Page 10 of Double Dare

I raise enough to pull it over my ass before I sit again, letting it pool over my closed legs.

“Scoot back.” Another demand with the shake of his gun.

I feel like such a coward giving in to everything he asks, but I feel I’m caught between a rock and hard place. Either I put my dignity on the line and save Dario or defy him and get us both killed. Which means this whole, stupid fucking game would have been pointless.

“Legs spread.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I raise my knees and place my heels on the bed’s soft surface. I let my legs drop open as wide as they can comfortably, then push the upper half of my body into the bed.

“No. You’re going to watch, Danica,” he chastises.

Raising to my elbows, I look at where he stands at the edge of the bed in front of me. Slowly—so fucking slowly—he moves the hand gripping his gun and runs the cold barrel from my ankle to my knee. He pauses a moment to move his eyes back to mine and make sure I’m watching. When his stare meets where the gun touches me, he continues.

Dragging it up the outside of my thigh, he pauses to examine the marks my nails made in my skin moments ago. “I’ll be the only one marking your body, understand?” I nod, willing myself to swallow every snarky reply I can think of.

When the gun touches my hip, he crawls onto the bed with me and settles on his haunches between my legs. For a few seconds, he uses the barrel of the gun to draw circles and other abstract patterns across my stomach to my hip, then back to the other.

I’m expecting him to say something else—anything else—but silence suffocates me as he moves the gun to my navel at a snail’s pace. He trails lower, brushing the light dusting of hair covering my most sensitive spot. My heartbeat drums in my ears in an erratic rhythm.

“Please don’t,” I beg, but it falls on deaf ears.

Adrian slips the barrel between my folds, then runs it up and down, letting the sight scratch my clit painfully. I drop my head back, not wanting to see what’s happening, thinking if I don’t it will somehow make it better.

Better because I won’t have to admit that for some fucked-up reason this turns me on, and better because I won’t see my death coming. Both of which are equally fucked-up and a hard pill to swallow.

The movement between my legs stops, and then he finally speaks. “I said to watch.”

Doing as I’m told, I pick up my head and shift my eyes back to where the gun is, but he doesn’t continue. Bringing the barrel to his mouth, he opens wide and inserts it. Back and forth, he sucks the gun, letting his spit run down the sides.

Right now, I could sit up and pull the trigger easily. End all this bullshit and go back to my life, but seeing him in such a vulnerable position almost turns me on more. Almost. When he removes the gun and brings it back to my pussy, the attraction dissipates.

Slowly, he pushes it inside of me. That pesky sight positioned at the very top scrapes my insides as he goes and hits spots I never thought would feel good. When my pussy has swallowed all the barrel and my lips are left resting just above where his finger hovers over the trigger, I finally breathe, releasing every bit of oxygen in my lungs along with a soft moan.

“This,” he states, jiggling the gun slightly, “shows just how much you’re mine.”

As he pulls the hammer back, my heartbeat picks up once again, and I can’t seem to decipher if it’s from fear or excitement. This is so fucking thrilling and so fucking stupid. I want to hate it—I want to hate him—but I can’t bring myself to actually do it. I want him to fuck me with his gun roughly and without care. I want the savage from before, but all he’s giving me is soft, slow, and fucking calculated.

Removing it, he keeps it gripped in his hand and shoves his dick back in his pants, snapping me out of the lust-filled haze he created.

“Good night, love,” he mutters as I close my legs and try to hide the arousal I don’t want to admit is there. “And next time you run,” he throws over his shoulder when he makes it to the door, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

CHAPTER SIX

DANICA

Waking up this morning, I realized two things. One, I’m locked in this fucking room until Adrian decides to release me. And two, I’m in deep shit. And by deep shit, I mean completely and utterly fucked in more ways than one.

This was supposed to be simple—make him love me, then say fuck it and part ways—but I’m realizing very quickly it won’t be that easy. At first, I thought it was going to be difficult because ofwhohe is. Ruthless, conniving, murderous. But I’ve come to realize that won’t be the only thing making this hard.

What’s going to make this complicated is my traitorous body.

I woke up so many times last night in a cold sweat, practically humping the air, looking for a release, but not just any release. I wanted a release from him. Hell, he could shove a fucking grenade in my pussy at this point and I would thank him, and that pisses me off.

All the men I have been with before have been gentle, sweet lovers. I never complained because I always managed to get off, but it’s like Adrian has unlocked a side of me I didn’t even know existed.

I need to get out of this room, out of this house, and away from Adrian before there is no turning back, only, I’m not sure how to do that without forfeiting my inheritanceandkeeping Dario safe.

God, Dario.

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