Page 26 of His to Bedevil

“I find that impossible,” he rasps, and his breath tickles my face.

“That I’ll never be wholly compliant?”

“That I’ll ever tire of you.”

I find myself now bouncing between his eyes and his lips, not sure which I prefer on me more. “You really should just kill me or let me go.”

“Probably,” he agrees automatically.

“Then do it,” I taunt.

“I can’t.” He’s so close now, I could easily headbutt the shit out of him and get away, but I don’t. I’m stock-still.

“Why not?” I ask.

“The thought of you dead is too unpleasant for me.”

I inhale sharply in alarm. His lips are now hovering over mine. “Then let me go, Alejo,” I whisper.

“Never,” he says firmly, then his lips crash down on mine.

His lips are as soft as silk, yet firm and demanding. As his lips move with mine, I arch my back and moan. The noise reminds me of who I’m kissing, and before I can push him away, his arm snakes around my lower back and his other hand plunges into my tangled hair. When he uses his lips to part mine, I think about biting down on his lip, but my body has different plans. My tongue dances with his, and I feel hungry for so much more. As the kiss quickly deepens, my body sags in his embrace.

Moaning into his mouth, I open my legs for him to lodge himself between them, and my legs wrap around his waist as if it’s second nature. I’m not wearing any underwear, so when he grinds his erection against my now swollen sex, the fabric of his jeans rubs directly into it. I whimper in wanton need, and it’s again the awakening that I need.

Ripping my mouth away from his, I let out a big gasp. My head is swimming, and my body is humming with electricity. His mouth moves along my jaw then down to my neck with no plans of stopping, and I fall right back into his allurement. I’m arching my back and rubbing my pussy against him, and I want more from him. Ineedit.

“Irma.” He grumbles my name, and it’s like someone shocks me to my senses. He called me Irma, not Fynn. Because he tortured my name out of me. For weeks he starved me and left me in the dark. Because I’m his captive and he’s my captor. This isn’t some romantic love story. This is a horrific quagmire with no ending in sight.

My half-hooded eyes open wide, and I stiffen under him. “Stop,” I say, but he doesn’t listen. He continues sucking on my neck and grinding into me like a horny teenager. “Stop,” I say more firmly, and try to push him away from me.

Finally, he stops and lifts his head up. His eyes are practically glowing, and his hair is disheveled, making him look devastatingly handsome. It would be so easy to just give in and live in the moment, taking exactly what I want, but that is not my reality. Taking what I want in the moment will bring concrete consequences.

“Get off of me,” I say, but there’s not much spirit behind it. I should be fighting him, not about to fuck him, but here I am with him pressed against me between my legs, panting like a sex-crazed fool.

The light in his eyes blazes brighter, but I don’t think it’s just from lust. He’s pissed. He begins to lean back, and I’m about to sigh in relief when he scoops me up with him. On instinct, I wrap my limbs around his body to hold on as he stands. “What are you doing? Put me down!” I shout, and try to wiggle myself out of his arms, but he’s way too strong to even budge. He takes several long strides into his room, and all the while I’m pushing and grunting, trying to free myself.

He tosses me back, and I shriek when I hit the mattress and my hair flies all over my face. Before I can fight through all my hair to bare my surroundings, he’s on me. Wedged in between my legs again and pinning my arms down at my sides.Oh God. He’s going to rape me. I should’ve known.Why the hell else would he want to keep me around? To clean me up and nurse me back to health.

I’ve been in tons of these situations before. Creepy foster dads, and I lived on the streets for two years. Plus, the kind of company I’m forced to mingle with for certain assignments. But I’ve always managed to somehow get out of them. There’s no getting out of this one. I can scream all I want, and no one will come to my rescue. I can struggle all I want and even make a run for it, but I don’t have anything stashed to defend myself with. Besides, I’ll never get far.

“You think I’ll just take you, don’t you?” he asks angrily, and all I do is just stare at him, afraid to answer. If I say no, that might piss him off and he’ll prove me wrong. If I say yes, it mightreallypiss him off and he’ll take me because of it. “Remember when you tried to stab me with my own fork yesterday? I have yet to punish you for that.” His voice is low and menacing, his eyes still glowing with scorching heat.

So, this is my punishment? Rape?Why the fuck am I at all surprised? He’s a monster, and I let myself forget that, beguiled with his incredibly good looks. “Please,” I beg in a small voice. “Please, don’t do this.” I don’t want to be raped. To be so defiled and violated.

His lips curl into a smirk. “I won’t hurt you,mi pequita. I’ll never hurt you.” Keeping ahold of my arms, pinning them down at my sides, he shimmies his body down lower on mine.

I don’t know why, but I believe him. Maybe it’s because I want to believe him. I want to believe he won’t take me by force, that he’s not as barbaric as I think. “Be a good girl and lie back. I only want to take care of you.”

What the fuck does he mean by that?My heart rate along with my breathing picks up several notches as I’m defenseless and pinned down.

He keeps sliding downward until he’s face-to-face with my center, and I really begin to stress. Trying to twist this way and that, I fight with the little bit of strength I have, but I am in no way making any progress. He’s so strong and more than twice my size. I’m frail right now, and even if I were at my full strength, it would still be laughable.

“No, Alejandro! Please, don’t!” I yell with ragged breathing. His hands are still clamped around my wrists with them pinned at my sides, and it works to his advantage because with his body down there, his stretched-out arms are holding my thighs down and open.

“Relax and be a good girl, Irma,” he says in a soothing tone, trying to allay me, but his face holds warning to it. What would he do if I kept fighting him? Would he end up hurting me? Would he cuff me to the bed like he threatened to last night?

Not wanting to find out, I stop trying to fight him off and lie there with my chest heaving. My arms are pinned down, and my knees are too. The position I’m in is humiliating, spread open and on display. His face hovers over my sex, and it’s throbbing in anticipation. Something is seriously wrong with me. I mean, I know I’m not the girl next door or the girl you bring home to your mama, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets off on a man about to force himself on me. Or force oral sex on me.

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