Callie could feel the painful tear of flesh as he forced his way inside her. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, afraid to make a sound.
“Yeah…” he breathed as he pumped inside her. “You’ve been flirting with me at the office… Leading me on…” He thrust harder, the gun waving above her face. “This is what happens to prick teases. They get what they’re asking for.” He groaned, ramming into her like a piston.
“Please, Damon,” she begged, hiccupping with terror. “Please…”
She wasn’t even sure anymore what she was begging for. For him to let her go? Or just put her out of her misery once and for all…
“Oh, god,” he cried as he ejaculated inside her. “Fuck, yeah!”
He slumped heavily against her, his skin hot, his heart hammering against her chest. The gun was now pressed hard against her temple, the metal digging into her skin. She stayed perfectly still, barely daring to breathe.
After a while, he lifted himself on an elbow and grinned down at her, mercifully taking the gun away from her head. “That was fucking awesome. It’s so much more fun when it’s authentic. All those stupid little fantasies you shared with Diana about the strong man taking control… The real thing is so much more intense, right?”
She stared up at him, speechless.
A dark look moved over his features. “I asked you a question, cunt.”
Somehow, she managed to take in enough air to inflate her lungs. “Very intense, Sir,” she managed hoarsely.
“Yeah? You think so? I can make it even more intense.” His eyes had a crazed look, like someone high on meth. She closed her eyes, willing him to disappear.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he snapped. “Look at me, cunt. This is the last face you’ll ever see.
His eyes fixed on hers, he brought the gun again to her temple. Grinning maniacally, he released the safety again.
Time stopped.
She whimpered.
He pulled the trigger.Chapter 14Callie was deep under the water. It was dark and cool. No one could get her down here. She was safe.
“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”
Those repeated words were muffled by the rushing sound of the water pressing in around her. She ignored the persistent call, snuggling deeper into her watery cave.
She desperately wanted to stay where she was, but the voice was insistent. Somehow it was pulling her upward toward the harsh, unwelcome light above.
“Callie. Wake up. Wake the fuck up. You’re fine.”
All at once, she burst to the surface, pulled unwillingly back into consciousness. She sucked in a deep breath as she tried to focus on the face looming above her. He looked like a Greek god, deep blue eyes, an aquiline nose, a strong jaw, a lush, sensual mouth. Was she dead? Was this heaven?
“There you are. I thought for a minute you’d had a fucking heart attack.”
The familiar voice jerked her back to reality. This was no god. It was her captor and tormentor.
She stared mutely up at him as the last nightmarish moments rushed back into her consciousness. He’d pulled the trigger. He’d shot her!
But no, that couldn’t be right. She was alive. There was no bullet wound.
All at once, she understood. It had been a total mind fuck. The gun hadn’t been loaded. In a way, it was worse than if he’d just shot her. At least then this would all be over.
What a sadistic fuck he was. Anger bloomed in her gut, consuming her with a fiery rage. A red film of raw fury moved over her vision. “No more!” she heard herself shout. Before she could stop herself, her right hand curled into a fist and smashed into that smug, handsome face.
Damon fell back with a cry, his hand flying to his nose. “You fucking cunt,” he roared, leaping to his feet. Blood was seeping between his fingers, his face blank with shock. “How dare you strike your Master?”
Callie, too, was shocked. She stared at her bruised knuckles, as if her hand belonged to someone else.
With a growl of fury, Damon reached for her. He hoisted her up from the sofa and threw her over his shoulder, momentarily knocking the breath out of her. He strode from the room and down the hall to the basement door. Flinging it open, he banged down the stairs, his forearm digging into the backs of her thighs as he held her in place.
He moved through the basement toward the storage closet where he’d locked her when the maids had come. Pulling open the door, he set her roughly onto the concrete. Blood was still dripping from his nose, his eyes wild.
“I’ll teach you to raise your hand to your Master, bitch. You’re gonna be very, very sorry.”
With that, he slammed the door, leaving her alone in the damp, dark little space.
She remained very still until she heard his footsteps on the stairs and the slam of the basement door. Then she curled into a ball on the hard concrete, too shocked at what she’d done even to cry.