I cuss and swing my fist before I have time to think. Royal ducks, and the blow only glances off his cheekbone. He grabs my hands and pins them to the wall, his big body caging me in as he leans close. “I thought I told you to stay away from that guy,” he growls at me.
“Yeah, you did,” I say. “And then you locked me in a dumpster with him for three hours and told us to fuck. It’s hard to figure out what you want.”
“Don’t fuck with me,” he warns.
“Don’t fuck with you, don’t fuck with Colt,” I say. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”
I smile up at him. I can’t help myself. I want to just obey, but he makes it so hard. He glares back at me, his dark eyes inscrutable. His face is so close I could count his long, thick, dark lashes, could memorize the perfect angles of his cheekbones, his jawline, his strong chin and masculine nose. Damn, he’s too fucking gorgeous for his own good. Add money and power, and it’s no wonder the guy thinks he’s a god and we’re all his playthings.
“Why are you smiling?” he snaps.
“Well, I’m pressed up against the wall by a big, strong man,” I say, squirming my body against his. “Seeing as how I’m such a whore, obviously I’m enjoying this.”
“Cut it out.” He backs off a few inches, and I lean back against the wall, leaving at least six inches of space between us. That’s more room to work with, and less chance of me losing my head over how good he looks or smells or feels. I may have only said that to be a brat, but it’s not untrue. I’m starting to understand my mother, always controlled by her emotions and hormones. Guess I’m more like her than I want to be.
“What do you want from me?” I ask. “I knelt and kissed your feet like an obedient little slave. I sucked up and tried to be your fangirl, but you tossed me in the garbage. And now when I stay out of your way and give you the whole cafeteria, you hunt me down to demand to know what I’m doing.”
“What are you playing at?” he asks, his voice sharp.
“Who said I’m playing?”
“I can spot a knock-off from a mile away,” he says. “And you’re a certified, authentic fake.”
That makes me laugh. “I’m the fake? Have you seen your Dolce girls?”
“You don’t want to be a Dolce girl,” he says, sounding almost bitter about that, like I’ve offended him by not joining his fan club.
“So? You wouldn’t have me if I did.”
Royal leans in again, and I curse myself for not escaping when I could have. The last of the kids have left the café, and it’s just us in the hall and a few stragglers talking by a water fountain down the hall. He stares at me a few seconds, and then the corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk.
“You do want to be a Dolce girl,” he purrs, leaning in again. He pulls my hands over my head, moving both my wrists into one hand so he can pin them against the wall while he brushes my hair back with his free hand. “You want me to fuck you up against this wall right now, don’t you? I could, you know. No one would stop me.”
“I’d stop you,” I say, but I know it’s bullshit. We both know he’s right. He has so much power here it’s dizzying. And as fucked up as it is, the allure of that power pulls me in just like all the other Dolce girls. It’s sexy as hell, even when he’s threatening me.
“You wouldn’t stop me,” he says, running his fingertips along my jawline, where a slight tenderness remains from last Friday’s fight. “You want me to. You’d spread your legs and moan for me.”
“Then do it,” I say, my voice coming out breathy. “Take that big cock out and show it to the world, show them all how you can fuck a girl who has no choice in the matter, like that proves what a big man you are.”
I can’t deny that his dirty words have my heart pounding, but I’m not my mother.
I won’t be controlled by my body.
Royal lets out a quiet breath, a smile playing at his lips. He strokes that spot on my jaw again, as if he knows that’s where it hurts, as if he knows that even when he touches the tender place, it still feels good. Maybe even better than when he touches me anywhere else. He takes my chin and pulls it up so I’m looking right into his eyes. “Are you wet?”
“Dripping,” I say, arching my body against his again. “It gets me so hot to think of being one of your many, many,manyconquests.”
He slides a hand between my thighs, all the way up, in one quick motion. He pushes a finger under my underwear and swipes it over my bare skin.
I’m so shocked I don’t even react until he’s already pulling away. I buck and squirm to free myself, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His grip on my wrists is unbreakable. He smirks and brings his hand up, examining his finger like he couldn’t tell if my pussy was wet by touching it. And then, if it wasn’t humiliating enough to have him violate me in the middle of the hall, he gives his finger a sniff.
My face burns with embarrassment and fury, but Royal only cracks a grin and watches me squirm. I’ve known a lot of assholes, and I’ve had my ass and tits grabbed by immature high school boys plenty of times. But this is different. He didn’t just goose me to cop a feel.
He went under my clothes, and the worst part of the whole thing is the detached, casual way he did it, like it was no big deal, like it never even crossed his mind to stop and consider whether he had the right to put his hand under my skirt, inside my underwear, and touch the most personal place on a girl’s body. It was a cursory touch, just enough to check my story, but the fact that there was nothing sexual about it makes me feel dirtier than if he’d slid a finger all the way inside me.
“I knew you were fucking with me,” he says, wiping his hand on his jeans. “You better be glad, too. I would have been pissed if you got your diseased slime on me.”
I’m too seething mad to even come up with a response. I go for a knee in the groin, but Royal sidesteps easily. Thankfully, he seems to be done with the topic of my repulsive vagina. His hand tightens around my wrists, and his eyes go serious.