Who does he think he is bringing his shit to my place of work? Not everyone is a rich spoiled asshole. Some of us need our jobs.
I storm up to him, my nails digging into the flesh around his elbow as I pull him into a room and close the door behind us.
Great. I didn’t notice it was a storage closet. I lock the door so we can’t be interrupted and turn my gaze on him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
His wolf eyes flash with anger. Those eyes aren’t normal. That blue is alien. “I woke up, and you were gone.”
I shrug, keeping my distance from him. “I had to work.”
He takes a step toward me, forcing me to take one back to avoid his all-consuming presence. “That’s not what your note said.”
“I’m fully aware of what the note said. Now leave.”
He bares his teeth, transforming from man to beast right in front of me. He takes another step forward. “You’re never leaving me.”
My voice shakes as I talk, not because I’m scared but because being in his presence makes my body a pathetic, whimpering puddle of mush. “Listen, it was fun, but I’m not your property. I’m done, and you need to leave.”
He doesn’t say anything. He moves closer still, one step, two steps until my back is to the wall and his body surrounds me. He has me trapped again, caught up with need for him.
“What are you gonna do? Rape me, Mikhail?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
“I’m not a rapist.”
“Then leave me the hell alone.”
Whatever remorse he might have felt a moment ago is gone. He turns those ice-blue eyes on me, and a grunt leaves his lips. The hard length of his body presses against mine, and his scent is intoxicating—lemons, peppermint, and Mikhail. I must ask him what soap he uses because it’s incredibly unique.
I start to speak, but I’m paralyzed when the light reflects off the blade of a sharp, silver hunting knife.
“Fuck you, Bree. I’m a lot of things, but a rapist isn’t fucking one of them. You don’t know the shit I’ve gone through in my life. You think it’s easy seeing the shit I’ve seen and done and casually talking about it with someone over a cup of coffee? As if murder for hire is the same job as being a mailman?”
Mikhail’s free hand moves down my body, pushing the hem of my skirt above my waist before he switches hands with the knife. His forearm presses against my throat, and—oh, God—he moves the sharp tip of the blade softly along my pussy. “You want to know what rape is like, Bree?”
Jesus Christ, I’m wet. I have a man whose face I’ve never seen holding a knife against my pussy, and instead of being scared, I want to know what he’ll do next because I’m turned the fuck on.
Mikhail barks a laugh as if he can read every thought running wild in my mind. “You like this, don’t you, Mouse?”
“Yes.”
“Well, since you think I’m a rapist, I’m going to need you to beg for it. Beg me to fuck you like the good little whore you are.”
“I’m not fucking a man who won’t show me his face.”
He presses the knife to my pussy, the blade gliding along my panties. The tear from the knife on the fabric fills the room. Oh, God, he just ripped my panties off with a knife, and all I can think about is his cock buried in me.
He moves the blade gently along my pussy, careful not to hurt me, just a soft caress. “So let me get this straight. The deal breaker isn’t that I kill people for a living but that I won’t show you my damn face?’
A moan escapes my lips, “Yes. What if you’re ugly? A girl has to know what she’s investing in.”
“You don’t care about looks, Bree. If you did, you would’ve fucked Ted in the woods.” Mikhail turns his face up to the ceiling as if contemplating something. “I still would have killed him because he touched you, and I don’t like people touching what’s mine. But don’t worry, Bree. I’m not ugly. My face isn’t riddled with scars. My wounds are on the inside. It’s not my face that’s repugnant. It's my heart. Now, why don’t you be a good girl and beg Daddy to fuck your pretty cunt until you forget all this nonsense and scream my name.”
I want to fight him, tell him this is not happening, but God help me, I can’t. “Please.”
“Going to have to do better than that, Mouse. Beg like the good slut I know you are.”
“Please fuck me. I don’t care what you use or how you do it. Just fuck me. I’ll be a good little slut for you, Daddy. I’ll gag on your thick cock. I’ll let you mark me. I’ll even fuck your gun. Just please fuck me the way only you know how.”
I moan as he fills me with his cock and moves his blade to my throat. “I like you like this, Bree. My good little whore. Look how well we fit together. You know you’re mine. You were mine with that first look. As much as you want to run from me, you won’t because no one will ever give you what you need. You crave my cock like a pathetic whore, don’t you, Bree?”