Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I spin around, not liking him having the advantage, though any step I take in this room, I’m severely outnumbered. No matter what I do or say, I’m at the mercy of their hands.
“What’s that card?” I demand. “What kind of bullshit are you involved in?”
“It seems you’re lost,” Zade tells me, ignoring my question as Dalton’s sharp gaze flicks between me and Zade with a strange mix of curiosity and fear.
“Lost?” I question. “You’ll have to forgive me. I thought breaking into people’s apartments is just what we did around here. Consider it a debt now paid.”
“You don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”
“And you do?” I challenge, pointing toward my picture on his bed. “You’ve been fucking with me since the second I got here, and clearly whoever gave you that picture thinks I’m someone else because I didn’t sign up for any of this shit. I don’t know you, or your friends, and I sure as hell don’t owe you a damn thing, so either tell me what you want with me or leave me the fuck alone.”
His eyes sparkle, a strange excitement flashing deep inside of them, and I back up toward the wall again. “I know exactly who you are, Oakley Quinn, and you’re wrong. You owe me more than you could ever understand.”
I watch him for a moment, my gaze narrowing further with every word that comes out of his mouth. “Oh my God, that’s it,” I breathe, realization dawning. I may not be callous, cold, and cruel like he is, but one thing’s for sure. Without intending to, he’s shown me a weakness.
His brows furrow, clearly having no fucking clue what I’m talking about. “That’s what?”
“You have some kind of rape fetish, don’t you?” I question. “I can see it in your eyes. Every time I argue or put up a fight, something comes alive in your eyes. You want me to run and scream just so you can pin me down and assert your power over me. Or is that it? You have a power kink and like to be the big boss in charge, but something like that only comes from being a scared little boy with daddy issues. Tell me, did your daddy beat you as a kid?”
Anger flares through his eyes as Dalton discreetly moves closer. He curls his hands into fists at his side, while the rest of his body remains impossibly still. Getting under his skin is the best rush I’ve ever felt . . . only second to what Dalton did to me on the roof.
Feeling braver than I should, I step back into Zade, my tits brushing across his chest. I lower my voice to a soft whisper. “Tell me, does locking your hand around a woman’s throat get you hard? Squeezing tighter and tighter until she’s gasping for air, your fingers bruising her porcelain skin? You love it don’t you? You crave power, and when you don’t have it . . . well, that’s just something you can’t handle.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he growls.
“Oakley,” Dalton warns, creeping in closer. “Back the fuck off before you do something you can’t come back from.”
I scoff, raising my chin just a little higher, looking Zade dead in the eye. “Have you ever taken it too far? Got carried away fucking her tight little pussy while gripping her throat and then realized she was already dead?” Something flashes in his eyes and I scoff, realizing I’m onto something here. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Watch yourself,” he says, seeming in complete control despite the rage burning through his stare. “Or would you prefer to find out exactly how hard taking your life is going to get me?”
A shiver sails down my spine, and I watch him through a curious stare. I know damn well he has the means to follow through on that promise, but something tells me that he won’t. When I pushed him, Dalton stepped in, worried about letting this get too far, and if they really didn’t care what happened to me, he would have finished me right then . . . yet here I am, still breathing, still free to say what needs to be said.
A smirk pulls at the corners of my lips, and I look up at him with a pitying stare, but only for the purpose of bruising his ego. “Why’d you let me go?”
“What?”
“On the weekend. You kidnapped me and held me hostage in your little bullshit prison, went as far as letting that asshole insinuate he was going to rape me,” I say, pointing toward Sawyer. “Yet not a single one of you touched me. Why’s that? What’s the point? Why exert the effort of taking me and holding me captive, only to let me go?”