My hand shook as I held the Glock. It was heavy, but it was even heavier with the weight of death. All I had to do was pull the trigger, and he would collapse on top of me. He wouldn’t survive a shot to the head, and if he did, he wouldn’t be strong enough to stop me from shooting him again.
“Baby.” He kissed me hard on the mouth, breathing into me. “You’re stronger than this. I’ve promised to kill you and your whole family. I’ve kept you as a prisoner and fucked you every chance I could get. You should kill me. I deserve it.”
Everything he said was true, but my finger wouldn’t squeeze the trigger. This was my opening, but I didn’t take it. I’d killed a man before, so this shouldn’t be any different. This was about survival. Just shoot and be done with it.
But my hand shook, and my finger didn’t move.
He pressed his forehead to mine and rocked with me, his cock so hard it seemed like he could barely fit inside me. His hand moved into my hair, and he kissed me like there wasn’t a gun pointed to his head. He fisted my hair and kept me in place, grinding against me just the way I liked. He gave me his tongue and his passion, gave me everything like he usually did. This man was fearless, not afraid of death or pain. He didn’t flinch when I shot him in the shoulder, and he kissed me just the way he did now.
Maybe he did want me to shoot him.
But I couldn’t do it.
I hated this man. Truly, I did.
But something steadied my hand.
I set the gun on my nightstand before returning my hand to his arm.
He stopped moving, ending his kiss and everything else. He stared down at me, his expression unreadable. He seemed angry but moved at the same time. His fingers moved in my hair, and his cock was still raging hard. “I couldn’t do it either, baby.”
With the gun on the nightstand and the large man still in my bed, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. I found his t-shirt on the way, so I pulled that over my head and let it touch my knees. Ten sizes too big, it wasn’t flattering to my curves at all, but it was the most comfortable piece of clothing I’d ever worn.
Probably because it smelled like him.
I watched the coffee pot work the grinds to produce the caffeinated liquid as I stood at the counter, thinking of last night.
Thinking of the way I put that gun to his head.
But didn’t shoot.
I didn’t fucking shoot.
He told me to but I didn’t. He reminded me of all the reasons why I should. He knew there was a good chance I would actually do it because I’d shot him before—with the intention to kill.
But I turned soft and set the gun down.
Maybe it was because he was in between my legs. Maybe it was because his mouth was mine. Maybe I was too attached to him to actually blow his brains out. I decided this was the only way out of my situation, the only way I could protect myself and my family.
But I didn’t do it.
Maybe if he never said anything, I would have pulled the trigger. Maybe if he’d kept kissing me and wasn’t aware of the barrel near his skull, I would have talked myself into doing it. But hearing him coach me to do it, feeling his cock get even harder with the threat of violence upon him, just confused me.
And now my chance was gone.
The coffee was done, but I continued to stand there, wearing his t-shirt with the sunlight coming through the window. He was asleep in the other room, the gun still sitting there. I could walk back in there and kill him now.
But I knew I wouldn’t.
Footsteps sounded behind me, his weight making the floor creak in certain places. The sound became louder once he entered the kitchen.
I could feel his stare the second he was in the room.
He stopped for a long time, just staring at me.
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want to face the shame of my weakness.
He came behind me and placed his large hands on the backs of my arms. He stood there, breathing down on me like a tiger that just cornered his prey.
I stayed absolutely still, my heart beating in my throat because I was both scared and nervous. After a night like that, I didn’t know what would happen between us. I didn’t know if he would punish me for the attempt or if he would be disappointed I didn’t do it.
He slowly turned me around, forcing me to meet his gaze head-on.