“Or until you wise up and get on top and ride my dick to Valhalla.”
This time, I can’t stop myself from laughing. But it’s a loud, spiteful laugh that draws the attention of the couples closest to us. But I don’t even care. What the hell am I doing here at this point? Is this his way of romancing me?
What a mysterious man. Powerful, gorgeous, claiming to be protecting me, yet bullying me every chance he gets. It’s like he gets off on being mean or something.
“You should write scripts for porn movies, Baron. That’s how bad that line was.”
“Yet you’re still dancing with me.”
“Yeah, because I can’t get away from you,” I reply. He smiles because he knows it’s true. He loves the fact that he’s got me, and I can’t get away. I’m like his little plaything. A doll. Something he can use with total disrespect like he did before. I hate the fact that I’m wondering if he’s getting hard with his hands on me.
“The real question is have you learned your lesson yet?”
“Didn’t you say something about not wanting to be my father, Baron?”
He nods. “I did say that. But I also said I’d like to be your daddy, and a daddy should always be sure to teach his little girl her lessons.”
“Barf,” I say, hating the fact that he’s secretly making me have a very different reaction deep down inside.
It’s only natural, right? Even if he’s a complete psychopath, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s incredibly attractive and beyond confident. I don’t know if there’s even a word for how confident Baron is. He has every reason to be though. Rich, powerful, self-made and hung like a horse.
God, I have to stop. I’m going through full-blown Stockholm syndrome right now, and it’s fucking embarrassing.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally ask him. It’s the hardest question I’ve ever had to ask, but I have to know. Baron is this terrible, torturous mystery that’s eating me up inside. “Do you just like screwing with me? Or are you about to drag me into the other room and jerk off on me again?”
“Why? Would you like that?” He pulls me closer and answers my internal question: Yup, he’s getting hard all right.
“What is wrong with you?” I hiss. “Is this seriously how you think you should get what you want?”
“And what do I want?” His eyes flare.
“Me, I guess!”
There. It’s all out on the table now. The question is what’s he going to do about it? But for the first time, Baron doesn’t respond immediately. In fact, he only stares. We’re no longer dancing; he’s just holding me now, pressing his ever-growing bulge against me, forcing me to feel the heat between my thighs as he reminds me of the power and control he has.
“Well?” I ask, raising my voice. “Are you just going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to talk to me?”
My outburst draws the attention of a few couples dancing around us. I can feel their judgments like tiny little spotlights, burning holes into my skin. But I don’t care. There’s only so much of this shit I can take before I boil over.
“Answer me, Baron!”
Louder this time. Too loud.
Baron reacts with speed. In an instant, he has me by the wrist with such a grip that I feel as though my bones might break. He’s pulling me across the dance floor toward a door, and for a moment, I think I might cry out. But the consequences of that would surely be severe, so I keep my mouth shut.
He closes and locks the door behind me, and before I can react, pushes me hard and sends me falling backwards. I collapse onto a couch, nearly breaking my ankles again, and look up at him as he advances on me like a predator.
“Don’t ever disrespect me like that in public,” he snarls, getting right up in my face. “Do you understand? I’ll have you and your mom out on the streets tomorrow!”
Scared. Shitless.
God, I wish I had the nerve to snap back at him right now, but I don’t. In fact, I’m trembling as he stares down at me. There’s no telling who this man is or what he might do.
“Christ, it’s impossible to teach you anything, isn’t it, princess? You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? Just go around flaunting what you’ve got and doing what you want, right?”
I can’t respond. My tongue doesn’t seem to want to work. I realize my legs are spread wide open and quickly close them. Baron glares at me then snaps his fingers in my face.
“Answer me!”
“I—I don’t know what to say!” I blurt out, fully admitting just how lost I am. When I was alone, I wanted him with me – to save me – and now that I’m with him, I want him gone.
Or do I…?
“Don’t act like you don’t want me,” he growls, leaning over me, each of his massive arms flanking me like tall stone pillars. “You wear those outfits for me. You tease me. You come for me and then you act like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
I’m so exposed. He’s tearing down my defenses, peeling back layers of my psyche that I never even knew existed. It’s painful, but he’s right. Of course I wasn’t just doing those things to spite him; I wanted him to look at me, and even though his eyes are filled with fury right now, I still want them on me.
“I—”
“Do you know what I would have done to that little son of a bitch, Harry, if he’d laid a fucking finger on you?” he says, his tone iced and threatening. Slowly, he reaches out and drags a finger up my leg, causing me to shiver. When he reaches my knees, he forces them open, and I’m powerless to stop him.
Jesus, I’m giving in to him, aren’t I?
My body continues
