Page 28 of Don't Say A Word

“The more you fight the more it’s going to hurt,” I growl.

And then I strike. Her ass instantly turns red.

“Fuck you!”

Her fight both enrages and excites me and I whack her again, relishing the stinging sensation that spreads across my hand. Again and again I spank her until she sags in my lap. Anger and lust pulse through my veins. My cock strains against my jeans.

“Kneel.” I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. “I’ve already told you I don’t want to hurt you.” That much is true. “But I will if that’s what it takes.” More truth. “The choice is yours.” A lie.

Her eyes burn and, for a moment, the absurdity of our situation makes me want to laugh, but I hold any and all of the emotion I have within and command her to stand. Reaching out, I place my hands on her backside, tugging her toward me. Her flesh is hot from its recent punishment.

I want to turn her around so I can look at the pink tinge but instead, I pull her closer, shaking my head when she resists. The scent of her invades me as I rest my forehead against her stomach.

“You are not your own,” I tell her. My lips brush over her still damp skin. I kiss her and it ignites danger.

“Repeat,” I order, barely aware of what I’m saying.

I graze my teeth over her skin, nipping and tasting her. The urge to overpower and take her pushes against my chest until the pressure is almost too much. And when I look back up at her, there’s no longer hatred in her expression. There’s confusion. Confusion mixed with shame and a little desire.

“You will do as I command.”

She’s right in front of me, the scent of her driving me to insanity. I would only need to move forward a fraction and my tongue would be on her. Tasting her.

And then I do, unable to resist any longer. She’s wet, sending my lust into overdrive as my tongue runs over her slit. I forget who she is. I forget who I am and become lost in her as she trembles under my attention.

She whimpers and I groan. It doesn’t take long with my lust hanging so thickly in the air. She can feel it. Taste it. She knows how much I want her. Her body tenses and she shudders, pushing against me and threading her hands into my hair as she comes undone. My own release pulses with the need to be unleashed, but I ignore it, slowing my movements and drawing the last moans of ecstasy from her lips.

The guilt of what I’ve done only hits when I let her go and she scrambles across the floor, eager to put distance between us. So again, I resort to giving her the one thing I can. I allow her another question. But this time she does not jump at the chance. And there is no part of her that looks at me with hope.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RYKER

I pull up outside Mia’s house and stare at the curtains covering the windows even though it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. I had to escape. I couldn’t watch her on the monitor, trying to wash my touch from her body. I couldn’t stand Marcel’s incessant chatter.

Senior had told me to keep an eye on how her family reacted to her disappearance so he won’t be surprised when he checks the GSP on the car. Already the local newspaper had leaped on the story, relishing the mystery of her disappearance. Senior knew the disappearance of a local girl from a small town would create far more attention than he wanted, but Junior always got want he wanted, and in this case, he wanted Mia. Besides, they had people they could influence. The police aren’t beyond their control.

I sit for an hour, maybe two, waiting for the curtains to be drawn, for someone to arrive or to leave, but the house is dead. There is only one room with the curtains open. It must be Mia’s. I try to think of her sitting on the other side of the glass, staring out at the quiet street. But the vision of her huddled in the corner keeps interrupting my thoughts.

After coming to the conclusion that no one is home, I get out of the car and make my way over to the house, constantly checking to make sure no one is looking. I try the door but it is locked, so I walk around to that one window that isn’t covered. Her room is warm and colored with innocence, belying her age. Her bed is messy and clothing is scattered across the floor. Posters cover the walls, but I can’t read what they say due to the dirtiness of the windows.

“What are you doing?

I don’t move when I hear the voice. I force a relaxed smile and turn to look at her. It’s Mia’s friend. The one with the pixie-style haircut. She’s dressed in green.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Is this your house?”

She doesn’t return my smile. “No. But I know it’s not yours.”

I take a step closer, squinting from the brightness of the sun behind her. “Do you know if Mia Cooper lived here?”

Her eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

I run my hands down my jeans as though I’m nervous and then hold one out to her. She doesn’t take it. “I’m a reporter with—”

“You can stop right there.” She starts to walk toward the front door. “Fuck off. This is private property.”

I need to keep up the façade, so I follow. “Did you know her? Was she—”

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