Page 60 of Brutal Legacy

“Just kill me. Make it quick. It’ll make both our lives easier. Please, stop dragging it out like this. Just do it. I want you to doit,” I pleaded. I wet my dry lips. It felt like my skin was going to crawl off.

The plane had started taxiing now, picking up speed. We swayed together.

“Get a grip,” my mercenary ordered as I started to wheeze.

I really couldn’t breathe. Maybe I didn’t need him to kill me; I could do that all on my own.

One moment I was dizzy, reaching for air that wasn’t there, and the next, I was in his arms.

He carried me through the plane. My vision was going dark at the edges. I could see the tattooed skin of his neck where the design disappeared beneath the beard, that perfectly lined the lower half of his face… it wasn’t the worst sight to see before you died.

Distantly, a door clicked open, and then I was falling. Landing on something soft, the movement jolted the remaining breath from my body. The bedroom was full of light from the doorway, but my mercenary kicked the door shut behind us, shrouding us in darkness apart from a small bedside lamp. I lay on the bed, crippled with panic. My lungs were cramped; they weren’t getting enough air in.

My mercenary straddled me on the bed, his knees bracketing my hips. His rough hands cupped my face.

“Breathe, Georgia! Calm the fuck down.”

I shook my head from side to side, white spots dancing in front of my eyes. I was going under. Drowning. I clawed at his arms, trying to hold onto something, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“Merda. I warned you not to test me one more time or I’d put you across my knee and turn your ass so red you wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. Maybe that’s exactly what you need right now.” His growl seemed to come from far away.

Then he was turning me over, my face pressing into the bed and his heavy weight holding my thighs in place.

His hand smacked down hard on my ass cheek.

Ouch.

He matched the blow on the other side.

Fuck.That really hurt. I sucked in a breath.

“Did that get your attention?” he murmured and smacked me again.

The feeling of it radiated through me. It hurt like hell, and it was embarrassing. Being immobile and smacked. It was humiliating… Anger flowed across my panic.

“You asshole!” I wheezed out, outraged.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, look who can speak again. I guess that means my treatment is working.”

I must have been the biggest idiot in the world, because I could’ve sworn that I’d heard a note of relief in his tone. Then his fingers closed around the waistband of my too-large pants and tugged them down.

“Hey!” I hissed at him, warmth beating in my already overheated face.

He was quiet for a second. “No panties is a choice.”

“No, it’s not. You didn’t exactly give me any to borrow, did you, dickhead?” I shot out, my lungs loosening with every word.

Another sharp spank hit my ass cheek, sending stinging pain through me. The smack on the bare ass was something else.

“If you think it’ll save your ass from me, you’re wrong.”

“God, I want to kill you,” I ground out.

His smack moved to the other cheek, and everything inside me clenched. I felt so powerless. My hands were trapped beneath me, I was facedown, he was holding me utterly prone. I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I couldn’t fight him. I couldn’t even try. The feeling of complete powerlessness built and built, while my mercenary spanked me again on the other side, his fingers dangerously close to my cleft.

“The feeling is entirely mutual, Mrs. Conti,” he murmured. “Now, breathe.”

I drew a ragged breath into my cramped lungs, the rush of oxygen making my head spin. Whoa, I’d gone too far into that panic attack. Passing out had only been seconds away.

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