Page 107 of Jagged Line Paradise

I manage to get my right foot up on the ledge and shove off from it, scooting myself forward along the bench seat. It takes him off-guard and his grip loosens from where he holds my elbows, just enough that I’m able to get my other foot up on the seat and crawl forward.

He lets go.

He lets go because this is what he wanted from me—for me to fight him, to try to get away, just so he can wrestle me back into submission. Arousal twists my insides and coils in my belly at the thought of it. Only Andrés could turn me and make me want something like this.

I flip onto my back as I scurry across the seat to the other side of the car, my dress slipping along the leather seats and gliding me with ease until my back hits the door. He looks like an animal as he reaches behind him to pull the door closed before climbing in after me, climbing over me, making me his prisoner with nothing other than the look in his eyes.

It’s so hot in here, out in the desert sun. The coolness from the air conditioning he had running on the way over still lingers in the air, but it’s fading quickly. My breathing quickens at the reminder of heat, at the reminder of what it’s like to really be trapped and unable to leave.

Nausea mixes with the lust in my stomach and the dance takes my mind to another world entirely. I’m not there in my past, in the overheated death box where I once thought I’d take my last breath. But I’m also not quite present here with Andrés, alone in his car. I’m in some sort of purgatory where my mind is trapped between the passion and the pain.

The only way out isto fight.

I bring my knees up to block him, but I struggle to keep them together because they part naturally for him as he moves above me. He shoves my left leg off the seat, my foot landing on the floor, and before I can bring it up again, he grips my hips and tugs me down to lay on the seat. He starts to settle his weight on me and I panic, bringing my hands between us and shoving at his chest.

He lines himself up, and once again, harshly shoves his cock inside me. The thrust forces the top of my head to tap the door. I flinch and there’s a flash reminder of the way I woke up in his father’s truck, curled on my side in the fetal position, hands bound and mouth gagged.

I gasp and my eyes well with tears as he thrusts. “Don’t take me.” The words whisper from my mouth even though I don’t mean to say them.

Andrés growls and fucks me harder, faster.

I put both my hands on his chest and shove as I start to cry. “Stop it! Don’t take me. I can’t go back there! I can’t…I can’t go back—”

He doesn’t stop.

“Please!” I shove again.

He reaches above me, tugging on the seatbelt strap. He raises up and grabs both of my wrists, holding them together in one strong hand as he twists and coils and wraps the seatbelt around them, wrapping them so effectively that even when I try to pull my hands free, I can’t.

He tugs on the strap, pulling all the slack from the feed until it snaps, and when he lets go of it, the feed returns, dragging my arms up above my head when it locks in place. I tug on my arms, but it won’t give. It won’t give until the entire feed of fabric has been recoiled and that won’t happen because it’s all wrapped around my wrists.

I look up at him with wide eyes, terror creeping over me. “Andrés, don’t!”

He bends over me, smothering me with his body, driving inside me with a grunt. “You told me not to stop.”

I told him not to stop.

He’s right. I did tell him not to stop and I meant it at the time. But now that I’m in the thick of this madness, I don’t know if I can take it. A sob breaks free, and I feel the tears well and fall. He looks down at me, darkness still shadowing his eyes, though I can still see all the good in him hiding behind it.

“Sunshine,” he says softly, “look at me. Look me in the eyes while I fuck you. Feel me.”

I blink my eyes shut, letting a few more tears fall before I open them again. I lock onto his gaze as he moves inside me, drawing out slowly and slamming roughly back inside. He moves and I watch him, as I let myself feel everything all at once.

My pussy throbs, my wrists hurt, my shoulders strain, my heart hammers, my chest tightens, my eyes burn, and my lungs ache. My heart cries, my mind splinters, my anxiety grips me, and my fears come to light.

I feel everything and it’s overwhelming.

But as he moves within me, looking deep inside my soul with his beautiful dark eyes, it’s as if he takes all that pain from me, absorbing it like a sponge and drawing it out of me. He makes me feel it all, but then he takes it all away. He takes it all away and gives me pleasure in its stead.

All at once it washes over me from head to toe, as though I’ve been hit by a wave that forced everything bad away and cleansed me with all the good. It tingles from the hollow of my throat straight down to my throbbing core.

I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I watch him let go, as I watch the way our individual fears leave us both and mingle somewhere in the space between us. I know I’m supposed to keep fighting him, but he’s inside me so deep that I only want more.

He falls forward, engaging me with a sloppy, wet kiss full of filth and passion. He runs his nose along my jawline, back to my ear. “I was wrong.” His hips slowly rock and sinfully roll.

“Wrong?”

“I like it when you fight me,” he groans. “I like having you at my mercy,” he licks the spot just behind my ear and I shiver, “but I love the way you look at me when you want it as bad as I do. You’re as fucking filthy as I am, aren’t you? Deep down, we’re the same. We’re both sexually broken. You feed my beast, but I feed yours, too, don’t I?”

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