Page 242 of Blood of Hercules
Fingers spasmed where they held me, but they didn’t release.
The man behind me pushed his hips forward—a bulge dug into my lower back. His chest vibrated against me.
I was wedged in place.
Unable to move.
All pretenses of dancing were gone.
They hadn’t even flinched at my violence. If anything, it had turned them on.
These weren’t normal men.
Monsters.
“What—was your... question?” the man behind me asked wickedly, his hips flexed.
My heart pounded painfully inside my chest.
They had me trapped.
I tilted my head back, gritted my teeth, and forced out what I wanted to say.
“Whothe fuck,” I whispered, “do you two think you are?”
They laughed louder, crueler.
“Oh—don’t you know? We belong toyou, carus.”
My breath left in a whoosh because the game wasn’t funny anymore. It was horrifying.
“Let me go,” I demanded, and I tried to yank away, but once again they didn’t budge an inch. Deep groans echoed wantonly.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered.
“We’re never letting you go,” one said harshly. “You already belong to us. And we’ve decided that we’re going to take care of you—someone has to do it, because clearly, you can’t do it yourself.”
Why does that sound so familiar?
“No one owns me but myself.” I shook my head. “And I’ve been doing just fine for years.”
“What an adorable perspective,” the other man said with a raspy chuckle. “But your actions speak differently.”
Shifting, I tried to kick at them. “Release me now, or I’ll cause a scene. This isn’t f-funny anymore.”
The man in the back slowly rolled his hips. “We’ve never been more serious about anything in our fucking lives.”
“Carissima,” said the man in front throatily. “We’dloveto cause a scene with you.” Hardness pulsed against my thigh.
Hands trailed wickedly back up toward my chest.
They tweaked my nipples.
Drifted back down and grabbed the indent where my waist met my hips. Fingers spread possessively across my lower stomach and pulled me back flush against a hard male body.
Chills erupted across my skin.
Everything blurred.
