Page 125 of The Loathing

“You do realise you have no right to just touch me, I haven’t given you permission.”

“Since when did I need to ask my fiancée for permission?” he smirks, and I see the darkness flash in his eyes.

“Since I said so,” I smile sweetly, pushing his hand away from me and off my skin.

“You will give yourself to me, if you don’t…”

“You’ll take it anyway?” I scoff, shaking my head.

“You got it in one.”

“You touch me without my permission, I’ll cut your hands off…” my tone is sharp, “and if your micro dick comes anywhere near me, I’ll cut that off in your sleep. Are we clear?”

His arm flies up and he grips my cheeks, squeezing them hard until I taste blood. He’s squeezing me so hard I have bitten the inside of my cheek. Wanker.

“Listen to me you little whore, I am trying to be nice, I am trying to be respectful, but you are making it very fucking difficult.” He leans over me, his stale breath making me heave. “You’re soon to be my wife, and the way I am feeling I’ll have you dragged down that aisle by the end of the week so I would shut that pretty little mouth of yours and do as you’re told.”

Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, but I roll my lips tight, his tongue trying to make its way through as his other hand skims under the skirt of my dress.

My heart is racing under my chest.

I let my lips part just enough to let his tongue slip in and then I bite down, hard.

He retracts, roaring in anger and pain no doubt. My smile widens, my chest heaving up and down, but he soon slaps the smile off my face, the back of his hand striking me right across the cheek bone.

“You little slut, just you wait,” he snarls as I hold my cheek, my eyes beginning to water as the tears threaten to fall but I blink them away. I will not cry in front of him.

* * *

We sit in the lavish suite of The May Fair and I am quiet. My cheek is bruised and throbbing and I know the bruise is already colouring my cheek. The power Wolfe Knight holds is scary. No one dares look at him in a certain way or decline any of his demands. Maybe I underestimated just how powerful he is.

“Make yourself at home,” Wolfe says softly, and I have whiplash from his split personality. Jekyll and fucking Hyde.

“No thanks,” I flip him off, stand and storm through the open planned hotel room, slamming the bedroom door behind me. I am so disappointed in myself and angry with Wolfe.

And I miss Titus.

My heart aches and I fall onto the bed, but I’m not by myself long when Wolfe enters the room.

“Go away you asshole,” I lift my arms above my face and cross them over my face.

“Look,” he starts before he pauses suddenly.

“Don’t want to hear it.”

“I have a meeting in an hour with some of my guys… you need to stay in here. Do you understand?”

“Very kind of you to ask,” sarcasm drips from me and I know he never asked me, he told me thinking I was some obedient woman, “but I would have stayed in here anyway. You can make yourself comfortable out there because that’s where you will be staying for the duration of our trip.” I don’t move, my breaths shallow.

“Is that so,” he pushes his tongue into his cheek.

“It is, now please get out.”

I know he is still hovering, but within moments, the door closes.

Once Wolfe walked out, I showered and dressed in a fresh sage summer dress. It has ruffled thick straps, covered in small white daisies and flows from just under my waist. It’s light and comfortable. My hair is pulled into a loose, messy bun. Strands fall and frame my face and I lose myself in one of my favourite authors, L G Campbell’s book, Rise Above since he was kind enough to let my bring my Kindle with me.

There is a gentle breeze blowing through the window and I am grateful to be away and cool from a hot and sticky London city.

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