Page 50 of Marek

“Because he’s fucking evil, that’s why,” he barks. “Fuck, anything else you want to know? Should I tell you how my mother used to starve me for weeks, or leave me locked in a cupboard, or whip me until my voice broke and I couldn’t breathe? Or maybe you’d like to hear how when she was sober, she was kind and loving, and then with the flip of a switch, she would beat us until our faces were coated in blood. What is it you want, Ellie Mae?”

I swallow, horror washing over me.

I’m sure what he just told me was only scratching the surface and, judging by his tone, he doesn’t want to go on, so I’m not going to push him further. I have a feeling that he just told me more than he has ever told anyone before.

“You know, you don’t have to be the same.”

He slams his foot on the brakes, causing the truck to skid to a screaming stop as he pulls it to the side of the road, then he turns toward me and lashes out, reaching for my throat, but I stop him. Instead, his hand flattens against my chest and he pushes me back into the glass window.

“Go on,” I say, my voice shaky but I’m not afraid of Marek any longer. “Hurt me. If that’s what makes you feel better about yourself. I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”

“Shut the fuck up. I can end you. You think you matter to me, girl,” he spits, “you don’t.”

“I do,” I dare challenge, my voice confident even though inside I’m terrified. “I do matter, if I didn’t you wouldn’t have come after me, you would have killed me and been done with it.”

“Get out,” he seethes. “You think you matter? Get the fuck out. I can and will replace you.”

“No,” I throw back, my hands shaking. “No, I won’t get out.”

“Get out,” he roars.

I take his hand, putting mine over it. “I said no. You want me out, do it yourself.”

He releases me, getting out of the truck and moving around to my door so quickly he’s nothing more than a flash. The door swings open and I unclip my belt, turning toward him. He reaches for me, and our eyes meet. I know he’s fighting something in himself right now, and I know he wants to throw me out, to prove a point, but something inside me is telling me to keep pushing.

“Do it,” I whisper, my voice far lustier than I’d like. “Throw me out, Marek.”

He reaches for me, fingers curling around my shoulder, and he’s panting with rage.

Go on.

Do it.

I don’t move my eyes from his, the challenge strong.

I’m begging him to toss me, and yet at the same time, I’m praying he doesn’t.

His fingers are biting into my shoulder so deep I know I’ll be left with bruises.

And I don’t care.

“Toss me,” I whisper, biting my lower lip, my need for him to intense. “It won’t change the fact that you want me as much as I want you.”

His other hand curls into my hair, jerking me forward until our lips are only inches apart. I spread my legs, my bottom stillon the truck seat, so he can get in closer. He’s panting with a rage I’m certain he’s fighting to control. He tugs my hair, and I moan as my head drops back.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “God damn you, Ellie Mae.”

Then his mouth is on my neck and he releases my shoulder, sliding his hand around my waist and hauling me closer until his jeans rub against me. His mouth against my neck has become one of my favorite things and oh, do I want it to just keep moving up, over my jaw, until he finds my lips. Kissing Marek would be explosive, and it has become something I’m desperate to do.

For now, I’ll take this.

We’re frantic, a need pulsing through both of us that we can’t fight.

He reaches down, jerking his jeans over his bulging cock, and then he’s gripping my ass, ripping my shorts down and exposing me. Without a single warning, he plunges inside me, so forcefully my mouth drops open and a strangled scream comes out. It burns, stretches, fills me in a way I wasn’t ready for. When Marek is around, I’m always wet, but my god, his size is something I’m not certain I’ll ever get used to.

“Does it burn, Ellie Mae?” he growls, sliding his hand up and cupping the back of my neck as my head falls back with a gasp.

“Yes,” I moan. “But I fucking love it.”

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