Page 22 of Dance with Death

And I could have just given in and gotten through it before now.

But now,now,Ezra’s green eyes flash across my spotty vision and suddenly, I’m angry.

I’m angry and frustrated and furious because I let myself lose control. I let myself fall in love with him. I let myself hope again and that was the most dangerous thing of all.

No.

Having hope wasn’t the most dangerous thing.

It’s the aftermath of hoping, the loss of it, that endangers what is left of me now.

Still, the lightning flash of Ezra through my mind inspires the bit of fight he’d somehow managed to conjure up in me before I was sold. I unsheathe my teeth and clamp down on Vigo’s cock. This startles him, and he thrusts upward hard, stabbing at the back of my throat. I haven’t bit him hard, just a nip to catch him off guard.

He digs his nails into my scalp, gripping my hair and pulling me back forcefully. I gasp for a breath as my lips slide free from his invasion. Saliva drips sloppily from my mouth as he separates me from his cock. He pulls his hand back and slaps me, his knuckles punching into my skin as he strikes me with the back of his hand.

I tumble to the side, landing on the floor as I yelp from the unexpected hit and the new burst of pain. My vision blinks out, then fades back in with dots of light around the edges.

I scramble to get up, managing to get on my hands and knees, facing away from him, but he’s already standing, ready to come after me. His foot lands hard on the back of my swollen ankle and I scream.

The pain shoots a crippling ache through my leg, making me freeze, my body going rigid to tense against the hurt.

He’s on me like a lion leaps for a running gazelle. His arms latch around my waist and he flips me over in a flash, slamming me to the floor. I land heavy on my back and the little air I’ve managed to catch escapes with a whoosh.

Vigo’s hands find my knees and spreads them wide as he scoots up between them, kneeling. He reaches for the button on my jeans, pulls the zipper, and tugs my pants down with a hard jerk. My body drags toward him as he wiggles and peels the denim away, taking no care for the way my ankle flops as he gives a final tug and I scream from another jolt of pain.

He pushes his pants down, and without so much as a beat for me to cope with what’s about to happen, he grabs my hips and drags me toward him, my legs open around him. He slaps my sex with the back of his hand, forcing me to whimper in disgust with the painful slam of his hard knuckles.

No.

No.

No!

I pick up my legs, preparing to kick, but he places his hands on my hips and digs his thumbs into the hollow spots between bones on either side.

As I start to cry, I shout, “No!”

I’m unable to fight as he tilts my hips, lifting my bottom from the floor. I can’t fight as he pulls me closer. I can’t fight as he angles his tip.

Then he slams into my pussy, hard, raw, dry.

I don’t even try to hold back the tears now. They pour from me freely as Vigo painfully fucks me.

“Good girls don’t hurt theirpapà. Good girls take cock with gratitude. Thank me.”

Fuck you.

I fucking hate you.

I hope you die and suffer an eternity in hell.

I don’t want to prolong my agony.

I turn my head to the side and say, “Thank you,” between sobs and feel like a coward for doing it.

Vigo fucks me until he’s done with me and leaves me a crying mess on the floor. He covers himself, straightens his suit, returns to his seat, and pulls out his phone as if nothing had happened.

He’s done with me.

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