Empress Of Wrath, Blood And Desire

Chapter 6: Held against my will

A disgusted chuckle escapes my lips as my eyes become tense and cold. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you uncivilized piece of shit, you must've lost a damn screw in that head of yours."

My gaze narrows as I take a step back, ready to escape if he tries anything.

It hurts me to think that if I ran, I would have to leave my car. Who knows what might happen to her? My black Dodge Challenger Hellcat is a beauty I could never abandon, especially with what's inside.

I reconsider running away; I can't risk him searching my car and finding anything, especially my computer, hidden inside with three different entry codes.

"You have a remarkable talent for delivering insults with an almost childlike flair. But you're too stunning when you do it for me to even be upset. And when you're angry... it's like watching a scene from a perfect fantasy, everything falling seamlessly into place." He flashes me a breathtaking grin, his arms crossing over his firm chest, making his impressive muscles stand out.

"What is it about me that keeps you clinging to a damn one-night stand?" I snap, my voice dripping with anger. The cold wind bites at my skin, but the fury burning inside me is hotter.

"It's you, darling. Just you. You're impossible to forget." He furrows his brows at me. "Have you ever met yourself?" He teases with a smirk, and I roll my eyes.

"So, what now? We fight, I kill you, and pretend this never happened?" I give him a bored look, tightening my grip on the gun aimed at his chest.

He stands in the center, with darkness swirling behind him, obscuring everything beyond his back.

"You won't kill me, Dea..." he chuckles, the deep sound stirring something inside me, though I push it away. That feeling only intensifies as he slowly undoes his cuff links, his long fingers adorned with thick silver rings.

"And why wouldn't I?" I challenge, trying to keep my eyes from wandering over his 6'3" frame and chiseled face.

I loathe how the moonlight makes him glow right now, as a Greek God descended from the heavens.

He casually shrugs his broad, board shoulders, perfectly framed by his tailored jet-black suit. "You haven't pulled the trigger yet, and you are too hungry for what I got to kill me..."

An unexpected snort leaves my lips before a loud laugh does. His ego is so big. "There are a lot of fish in the sea. Don't mean to burst your little bubble, buddy, but you are not special and I can get all the dicks I want. I do not need..."

"Of course you do, baby. Nobody can fuck you the way I can... they don't know what you like or want. They don't know how to pleasure you the right way but I can... baby no one has pleasured you well before you met me, I could tell when I was stretching your cunt. You couldn't even take all of me...which makes me wonder if it was men you have been with before or children..."

Okay, he has fucking lost it.

"You think you are special but you are fucking sick!" I shout at him, regretting ever getting into his bed. "You do not know what the hell I like or want..."

"Aggressive..." he cuts me off. "You like it wild and untamed. You love it when you are explored gently as though you are being softly taken care of before you are held tightly by the throat and bend over with a forbidden promise or with a gun pressed to your head..." he begins to roll the sleeves of his dress shirt up. "You prefer when the person fucking you into obscurity focuses on making sure you enjoy the experience, rather than just indulging in their pleasure and pushing you into things you don't like. You like to be called dirty names..." he lightly bites his lips, as his front stays bulged. "You love things that make you feel dirty and slutty just like you are, but you also love to be called nice, innocent things that make you feel good inside while fucked like a whore."