Page 15 of Dangerous Vengeance

Iknow exactly why I kissed him. Because we are the same. Matty understands the pain of losing someone, the trauma involved in the hunt for justice. My heart wrenches in my chest, and I kiss him again and again, and he doesn't stop me, though my arms remain pinned over my head. The weight of his hips pressing mine into the bed is intoxicating, making my urge to be dominated flare up.

"We're not that different, Natalie," he growls as his teeth bite down hard on my lip and I whimper. I know we're not. I've known it since before I even met him, before I even started researching his family in particular. I've seen the stories, the things people in his line of business do, found myself being drawn to them out of curiosity and intrigue.

It all started because I wanted to know more. Hal tried to guide me to the light, help me use my skills as a researcher and investigative reporter to uncover truth, bring justice. But something turned sour in me when he was stolen from me. All my rage and anger over losing him made me forget my initial interest in people like Matty, my curiosity to see how they function, why they are the way they are. And all I wanted was revenge.

"God... I hate you," I snarl, biting him back as he squeezes my wrists harder. But I don't hate him. I hate the person who killed Hal. I hate life because evil things happen. And I hate myself for wanting him so badly, but I don't hate him. I want him.

"You don't even know what you want. Do you? You like when I force you to do this. You like being here in this place. You waited until I walked in the door to try to sneak out because you knew you'd incite my reaction." Matty loosens his grip on my wrists, and I smack him hard. How dare he say those things. He doesn't know me.

But deep down I know he's right. Iamaddicted to the way he dominates me, to the way he makes me feel completely powerless. And I do want him, more than anything. It's like he's the missing piece of me that I've been searching for all my life.

"You're right," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I don't hate you. I hate myself for wanting you." I go to smack him again, and he catches my wrist and stops me. He stares down at me, still straddling my hips as he slowly unties his tie with one hand. I shudder to think what he's going to do with it. His eyes stay fixed on my face, and I scowl at him.

"You want me to be cruel to you? To hurt you on the outside just so your insides stop feeling the pain they're in?" His voice is calm and even, and I scream-growl, bucking my hips and trying to force him off of me but he's too heavy. And he's too close to the truth. I feel tears burning my eyes.

"Fuck you!" I shout and growl again, but he only smiles a sad sadistic grin.

Matty wraps his tie around one wrist, then the other, then climbs off me and drags me up toward the slatted headboard and lashes my arms there tightly. "I'm going to take you now; make you feel the pain you're trying to hide. And then I'm going to make you wish you'd never met me." I don't really hear him, or care what he says. I'm still trying to process what I'm feeling, what I really want.

His teeth find my neck, and he bites down and sucks hard, leaving a mark that will surely bruise and be visible to the entire world. I don't care. I want him to mark me. To put his stamp on me so everyone knows I'm his. I want to feel his teeth and his nails and his cock inside me. To feel the pain. To feel alive.

Matty tears the thin t-shirt down the front and exposes my breasts, then yanks the shorts off me as I flail and kick. "You don't know what I want. You don't fucking know me." But he does. He probably knows me better than anyone I've ever met because trauma knows trauma.

"Oh, I know you." He unbuckles his belt, and I hear the hiss of leather sliding through the loops of his slacks. "And I know this is all an act. You pretend to hate it, to want nothing to do with me, but you're begging me to fuck you." He swings the belt hard, and I wince at the cold bite of the leather on my thighs, and I cry out and buck, but Matty doesn't stop. He uses the belt on me, and I arch my back and moan. I try to push him away, continuing the ruse that I'm actually fighting him, and his belt slaps my pussy, sending a shockwave of arousal through me.

"Oh fuck," I grunt and curl my legs up as he drops the belt on the bare mattress. He undresses slowly, watching me lay there. My chest is heaving from exertion, and my pussy aches to have him inside of me, to feel his thickness stretch and tear me. I want him to dominate me, and the only way to make that happen is to keep fighting. But he likes it. I can see it in his eyes. He enjoys it.

When he stands naked, hard cock standing proud, he reaches into his pocket of his slacks and produces a pocketknife. My skin bristles at the sight of him folding it open. "What are you doing with that?" I ask, licking my lips.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson." He grins. "And then you're going to be my little slave." He flips the knife and catches it by the handle. It's longer than my hand. I can't speak.

"You're going to tell me everything you know." He kneels on the edge of the bed and flips the knife again. "Everything you know about the crime syndicates that run the city. Every name you've heard, every man you've seen. And if you try to lie to me, or give me anything less than the truth, I'm going to cut you."

My pussy is on fire, a burning ache screaming to be soothed by his skin. "Fuck you," I hiss, watching him crawl across me. His dick drips with precum. He's so turned on by this too. Shit what did I do to deserve this? I'm so fucking horny.

"So, tell me, Nat. What do you know?" He presses the tip of the knife to my throat gently. It's not breaking the skin, but the pinch of pain is enough to drive me wild.

"I'm not saying anything." I grit my teeth against the sensation of the tip of the blade as he draws a line down my chest. It's just enough pressure to leave a light scratch and send shivers of pleasure through me, but not enough to actually cut me.

"You refuse to tell me what I want to know when I hold a knife against your skin?" The fire in his eyes makes me shudder. Fuck do I want him to make me scream.

"Go to hell...." I squirm again as he rakes the blade over my stomach and my thigh. The scratching is painful, but he isn't going to cut me. He'll get no pleasure out of seeing me bleed. He wants me to scream his name. That's what this game is, and God do I enjoy playing it.

With a snarl of anger, he grabs my leg and shoves it up. I yelp as he rakes the knife over my pussy, the jagged-edged blade scraping over my clit and sending a spark of pain through me.

"You're lucky that I don't cut you." He says it with a snarl. "If you want me to stop, you'll have to say it. Come on, you're a tough girl, Nat. Say it."

"No." I breathe. "I'm not going to beg you."

"If you want me to stop, you'll have to beg me."

"I'm not going to beg." I look into his eyes, and I know he's going to make me scream. He drops the knife on the bed. I'm shocked by his strength as he turns me over with one swift movement. "Ah..." I yelp as I bounce on the bed, then instantly wince and scream as the belt comes down across my ass.

"Say it, Nat. Tell me you want me." Again, and again the belt cracks on my skin, the sting of pain mingling with pleasure. I can't take it. I need him in me. The fight is leaving now as he demands to be placated. "Say it, dammit."

"I want you!" I yell. "I want you."

"Tell me what you want from me." His voice is dark. He's so sexy. I don't want him to stop. I want more. "Tell me."

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