“What if I’d let him fuck me?” I groan, rubbing furious circles. The pleasure is so intense it lifts me onto my toes, forcing me to bow my head. “What would you have done?”
In my mind, it’s no longer my finger torturing my clit. It’s his. Stars burst behind my closed eyes as the fantasy pushes me closer to the edge.
“I’m a v-virgin, you know. Does that get you off? Shit!” The glass fogs as I sink my finger inside my wet heat, pumping just like I know he would do. “I’m leaving, Sam.” My body is shaking with need, words tumbling out of my mouth with reckless abandon. “Your little mouse is being taken away. You could’ve been my f-first. N-now another will take what’s yours. D-does that p-piss you off?”
Letting out a tortured cry, I return to my clit, chasing an orgasm carved in his image.
Pretending my hand is his mouth…his tongue…
“Would you take me hard? Over and over until I bled your name? Until there wasn’t a part of me that didn’t belong to you?” That’s it. The thought of him claiming and dominating me is too much. “Sam!” Collapsing against the window, I come hard, his name a hoarse cry on my lips.
When the euphoria of my orgasm finally fades, I slump against the window, my forehead and breasts pressed against the glass, and my hand still tucked inside my panties.
What’s even more pathetic? The fantasy will never be enough.
Quickly ending the call, I block the unknown number in a panic and push away from the window, staring blankly at my reflection—at my half-naked body and the crude S carved into the inside of my hip.
“You’re in over your head, Lola. You’re fucking drowning, and you don’t even know it.”
My brother is right. I’m drowning. I’m getting myself off in front of a window to the thought of my family’s sworn enemy, for Christ’s sake. The man who desecrated my body in the name of war, not desire.
“That is a metal slab at the medical examiner’s office…And that, dear sister, is the same scarlet letter carved into her chest.” Santi’s warning blares like a siren in my head.
Sam Colton doesn’t want to fuck me. He wants to kill me.
“Dios mío, what the hell’s wrong with me?”
Shame burns my cheeks as I draw the curtains, gathering my dress from the floor and quickly buttoning it. Backing away, I disappear into my bedroom and pull my suitcase from the back of my closet, my mind a cyclone of self-loathing and sadness.
My family is right. I’m just a pawn.
A stupid little mouse who’s about to get her neck snapped.
Chapter Eight
Sam
It takes me less than sixty seconds to hack into her apartment’s maintenance system and cut the lights dead. It takes me another five to ram my fist into her bodyguard’s mouth so hard, he’ll be spitting up teeth for a week. Lust and jealousy are dangerous weapons, and after watching Lola Carrera come so hard against a window the fucking glass fogged up, there’s no army in the world that could stop me from sinking my cock into that virgin pussy tonight.
“I’m leaving, Sam.”
Never.
Her whispered admission sliced through the strands of my sense and reason. Her breathless taunts made a bonfire out of my obsession. Lola’s only going one way tonight, and that’s with me. Predators don’t barter with their prey. There are no pretty deals, sneaky underhands, or backstreet bargains. They stalk and they pounce, they steal and they break…
Her front door is open and it smells like an invitation.
I don’t make a sound as I slip inside, the heavy stillness crushing me like a velvet fist. I move slowly, cat-like, along the hallway, even though I know every inch of this apartment by heart. I head straight for the bedroom because that’s where she’s leading me. The sweet scent of her arousal is unmistakable beneath the generic florals and citrus.
I pause in the doorway, my anticipation turning my cock to stone. We’re breaking the rules together now. We’re crashing through unseen barriers. Do bad things with me, Lola… Sharing our pleasure will be double the fun.
I push the door open, the smallest creak shattering the silence. I hear her breathing in the darkness. Rapid, shallow rasps. Sounds that are so easy to make screams out of.
The curtains are closed. The moon is in hiding. I’m a thief in the night as I cross the room to reach the bed, stealing hearts and virtue with a fucking smile on my face. That’s when she makes her move, darting for the hallway in a flurry of frantic footsteps. Her soft cry shatters the silence again as she runs straight into me.
I grab her arm and throw her up against a nearby wall, pressing a hand over her delicate mouth as my hips hold her body prisoner. “Strike me a pose, Lola Carrera,” I say huskily, drunk off her fury and fragility. “The show’s not over until I say it is.”
Her muffled cries grow louder against my palm, and her sharp teeth snag on my skin.
Frustrated, I spin her around and crush my throbbing erection into her ass. Holy fuck. The feeling of her heat pressed up against me is blowing all my late-night fantasies out of the water. It’s enough to make my hand slip from her mouth.
“Get the hell off me!” She leverages her foot against the wall to try and tip me backward.
“Is that really what you want?”
“Want?” She toys with the word like it’s an unwanted gift. “You don’t want me, Sam Colton… Sanders… Whatever the hell your name is. You can drop the fucking facade right now. I know where your allegiances lie. You saw Troy Davis roofie me, so you took your opportunity. You branded me for him… You branded me for Dante Santiago.”
“I branded you for me.” I drop my mouth to her shoulder as she hisses out a single rebuke.
“Bullshit!”
Incensed, I suck
