“What?” The rise and fall of his breathing paused beneath her cheek. “Why?”
She pushed herself up on her elbow. It was hard to look at him, but she wasn’t a coward. If she was going to be honest, she’d do it to his face, would jump off the cliff and suffer the consequences. She took one long, deep breath, then said what she’d been thinking for far too long. “Because I’m starting to wish this was real.”
He winced.
Actually fucking winced.
The reaction, though not shocking, was like a rusty knife twisting into her chest. She managed a derisive smirk. “Exactly my point.”
“Charli.” He sat up on his elbows.
She rolled fully away from him, wrapping the sheet around her breasts. “Don’t even bother, Grant. I don’t need the speech. This is not your fault. It’s mine. You never pretended this was anything different than what it is.”r: Roni Loren
She hurried past the pantry and slipped inside the alcove. She locked the laundry room door, her fingers trembling, and pressed her back against the door to the porch. Even though she knew this was a game, an undeniable zip of fear buzzed through her. Grant wouldn’t harm her in any kind of serious way, but she wasn’t under the impression he’d go easy on her either. The thought only served to make the achy pulsing between her legs more unbearable.
She strained her ears, trying to listen for his heavy footfalls. She doubted the man could walk softly even if he tried. There was a distant squeak—probably the office door opening. He’d probably try the laundry room any second. She looked around for anything to use to distract him, but all that was in there was a basket full of unfolded laundry. She grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of running shorts off the top and slipped them on. He’d never expect her to go outside since she’d been half-naked, but this could give her the element of surprise.
She reached behind her and turned the knob on the door to the porch, keeping her eyes on the other door and doing her best to not make a peep. When the knob gave, she backed onto the porch, never taking her focus off the kitchen door. One, two, three steps and she’d be to the screen door that led to the backyard. She spun on her heel, ready to bolt, and slammed smack into the hard wall of Grant’s chest.
Before the scream could even exit her throat, Grant turned her, clamping a hand over her mouth. The noise came out a pitiful, muffled sound.
“Going somewhere?” he said, his breath hot against her neck.
Not ready to lose so easily, she jammed her elbow into his ribs and tried to wriggle free. But he was too damn strong for her to even get an inch of space between them. He gripped her harder.
“Now you’re just pissing me off, princess.” He dragged her back into the laundry room and kicked the door shut behind him. “If you play nice, I won’t have to get rough.”
She grabbed for the hand he had locked over her mouth and dug her fingernail into his cuticle—a self-defense move her brother had taught her.
“Son of a bitch!”
His hand dropped, and the moment’s distraction let her slip free. She vaulted back through the door to the kitchen, an angry cowboy hot on her heels. When she took the turn into the living room, she thought she had enough of a lead to make it back to the bedroom, but before she hit the hallway, he grabbed hold of her shirt and yanked her backward. He caught her before she landed on her ass, but soon she was on the floor anyway. He pinned her down on the rug, belly down, knee against her back.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be cooperative.” He yanked her shorts and panties off in one rough tug, then tore her T-shirt, a long rip down the back.
The sound of the tearing and his handling of her had every sensory system in her body firing. Her mind tumbled into that place where thoughts went quiet and sensation took over. She struggled beneath him. “Please, please don’t do this. You can take whatever you want from the house.”
His dark chuckle was almost unrecognizable as he unhooked her bra. “You think I’m in here for a fucking TV, princess?”
“I have money in my closet,” she said on a whimper.
“I don’t need your money.” Something wound around one of her wrists, then he was shoving her knee under her, and the same scratchy material wrapped around her thigh—rope. “What I need is this tight, virgin ass of yours.”
A hard tremor moved through her. She tried to move, but her wrist and thigh were now anchored to each other. He gave her the same treatment on the other side until she was left with her ass in the air, knees spread wide, and the side of her face pressed into the rug.
Breath rasped through her lungs as she fell into the moment, surrendering to him, her desire for him swallowing any lingering fear. Her clit throbbed from neglect, the soft rug caressing her nipples and only ratcheting up her desperation further. “Please.”
He stood, his shoes coming into her peripheral vision. “Why do I get the feeling you’re no longer begging for mercy but begging for me to fuck you?”
“Because I am. Please.”
He crouched down and wrapped a hank of her hair around his fist, lifting her head ever so slightly. “You know how hot it makes me to hear you beg so nicely? I may even let you enjoy it now.”
He released her hair and stood. The sound of his belt buckle raised goose bumps on her sweat-slicked skin. She peeked upward to find him peering down at her as he doubled the belt over and tucked the metal part in his hand. He smiled a smile that could simultaneously melt her insides and break her open, then he stepped out of view.
Even knowing it was coming couldn’t prepare her for the blow. The belt landed across her ass, sending a rocket of stinging pleasure curling up her spine and down her legs. She cried out, her hands yanking at the ropes and inadvertently spreading her thighs wider.
Another swat came and grazed her exposed sex, jolting her and almost sending her into instant orgasm. Her back bowed, her head shaking back and forth like a restless horse trying to break loose. “Oh, God.”