Page 25 of Marek

“I’m not going to be your slave, Marek,” I shout at him, kicking my legs to keep me afloat.

Before he can answer, two men are throwing a ladder down to us. He must have called out to them before jumping in. What a hero. Snorting at my own thoughts, I find myself feeling slightly delusional as we climb the ladder back onto the ship. The moment my feet hit the hard timber floors, I turn to Marek who is standing behind me, soaking wet, his black jeans hanging low on his hips.

“Leave,” he barks at the two men, and quickly, they retreat until we’re alone.

“I’ll do things like that,” I say, my voice low as the cool air bites into my skin, “over and over again, until you stop treating me like a slave. I’m not a prisoner and you do not own me.”

“I do own you,” he growls, taking a step closer, his dark hair falling over his forehead where he angrily swipes it away.

God damn he’s beautiful.

“Wrong,” I shout. “You don’t own me. You can torture me, starve me, fuck women in front of me, do whatever it is you think will make me yield, but I will never fucking yield to you, Master. I will never fucking give in.”

“I can take everything from you. Staring with Alexis...”

That threat is old.

“Go,” I say, stepping closer to him. “Right ahead.”

I can see I’m agitating him, and I relish in the way his jaw clenches.

“If you want me to be your little star, Marek, then you’ll change and do it my way. Otherwise, get used to fighting because I’ll never stop. You might as well kill me now.”

His hand lashes out, curling around my throat as he turns, slamming me against a large pole on deck. I don’t flinch, don’t fight, don’t do anything but stare into his stark blue eyes as he holds me there, his grip tight but not enough to stop my airflow. “You think I won’t kill you, Ellie Mae?”

“Go ahead,” I say, so scarily calm I’m even terrifying myself. “Kill me. It’s better than living a life as your slave.”

His fingers curl tighter, and my hands go out, pushing against his chest, his wet skin beneath my palms sparking a desire in me that I’m so sick of trying to fight. Mostly, I’m sick of trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me. I should despise him, hate him, want to watch him burn in a fiery pit and yet right now, the only thing I can think about is his cock plunging deep inside me.

Slamming my hand on his chest, I thump him as hard as I can, causing his grip to tighten. I don’t look away, not even for a second, as I raise my hand and hit him again. A low hiss escapes his mouth, as he takes a step closer, forcing my hand down, and oh, down it goes until I’m gripping the top of his jeans, pulling him closer.

“You want me to fuck you before you die, Ellie Mae?”

We both know he won’t kill me.

Marek would have left me in that water if he wanted me dead.

“Go ahead, Master. Show me just how evil you are.”

I shove his jeans down, forcefully, until I can feel the hard ridge of his cock against my palm. He lightens his touch on my throat, just enough for me to be able to focus, and focus I do. Shoving his jeans down further, I curl my hand around his cock as it springs free, hard and aching.

“You didn’t like watching me with another woman,” he taunts, sliding his free hand down until he’s cupping my pussy, a teasing taunt that he has all the power.

“I couldn’t,” I grind out, squeezing his dick, “give a fuck.”

“You’re a bad liar,” he breathes, pushing my panties aside and slipping his finger through my wet folds. “You’re so fucking wet for me, your body betrays you.”

“I never said I didn’t want to fuck you,” I breathe, stroking his cock, up and down, loving the way it pulses in my hand. “That doesn’t mean I don’t hate you.”

“Hate is the very fuel for desire,” he murmurs, pushing a finger inside me.

I gasp. “Don’t fuck me with the same hand you fucked her.”

He grins, his teeth flashing before he lowers his mouth to my neck and sucks. Shivers run up my spine and I can’t help the way my eyes close and a moan escapes my lips. He fucks me with his finger, slow and precise, dragging it in and out, murmuring how hot my cunt is. His words are filthy, and I love every second of it. There is something so dangerously addictive about Marek, and I’m finding myself unable to get enough.

“Fuck me,” I demand, holding back my orgasm, wanting it to be explosive when he’s inside me.

“So demanding,” he growls, sliding his finger from my depths.

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