Page 29 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

"Many women would envy your position."

"I guess none of them were available."

About to walk past Keyshawn to grab a pen, I remind her of what I'm capable of by squeezing her cheeks, forcing her to look up at me and sending a surge of panic straight through her that even her best efforts couldn't hide.

"I don't want another woman," I say to her sternly. "I want you. The perfect set of lips. The softest skin. The exact demeanor of a woman that I very much need. Never question my desire for you again."

I drop her cheeks. Keyshawn rubs the spot where my thumb and forefinger just dug into her jawline. Her glare is hot enough to set me on fire if I keep standing still. I leave her seated at the table to get her a pen.

When I return, there's no more wine in her glass. Good. I set the pen next to Keyshawn and return to my seat opposite hers at the table. I have big plans for her once she signs my document.

"This isn't legally binding."

"I'm the only one who serves justice in this house. It's binding enough for me."

She takes the pen and flips to the back page where I printed a thick black line for her signature. My cock jerks to life in my pants when I realize that she's really going to do it. Even if she complains, signing that document will on some level bind her to me for at least a year.

"I have plenty of time to win your heart," I tell her. "Not just your signature."

Keyshawn gives me a flat, expressionless look.

"You will never win my heart."

She adds something onto the end that takes every ounce of inner strength not to smirk at.

"You can barely make me cum," Keyshawn says. "My heart is off the table completely."

She is such a goddamn brat.Fighting me until the end, even as she signs every inch of her life and her precious cunt over to me. Forever.

Chapter Seventeen

Keyshawn

Isign my life away to a redheaded psychopath and the grin on his face immediately fills me with dread straight through to my core. Have I lost my mind? I know this document would never hold up in court, but it’s a contract between us and something about signing it forces me to question my morals and ethics.

What if I get a chance to escape? I’m only human. A trapped human at that. I’ll have to throw that contract out the window and run if I get the chance. Deacon has clear standards for me. I have to spend two months here in this house on my best behavior before he allows me outside. After three months, I get my own car – he specified a white BMW of my choice in the contract – and with each additional three months as “his”, I get more privileges.

Listen, signing the document can’t hurt, can it? If I can take regular steps to avoid his more brutal beatings, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Simple as that.

“Keep your copy of the contract,” Deacon says. “I’ll need you to take a shower and meet me in the bedroom. Tomorrow,order some clothes online and whatever you think this house needs for your happiness.”

“Can I have visitors?”

He didn’t exactly stipulate that in the contract and I don’t know who exactly I would ask to visit me, aside from Oske.

“I won’t have Oske anywhere near my personal property. Family and friends are welcome to stop by for a day visit. If they wish to stay overnight, I will provide nearby accommodations.”

My heart races with excitement. I won’t be totally isolated. Good.

“Until you earn the use of your cell phone, you can borrow mine and make one phone call a week. I have to be sure that you’re taking this seriously.”

Deacon rises abruptly, his long, thick legs giving him an even more towering and domineering look than before. His mid-length red hair reflects streaks of gold in the warm light of his dining room. His eyes match the knife blade.

He walks towards his bedroom having left me with his instructions for what he wants me to do next.

But why did he walk off to his bedroom holding the knife?

I push all my fearful thoughts out of my head. I get to walk around without his watchful gaze and even take a shower without Deacon sponging me invasively himself. I celebrate every raw inch of freedom, even if he only lengthened my invisible leash a little. I know the way to the bedroom – and the bathroom – so I walk the familiar territory into Deacon’s lair.

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