Dollars (Dollar 2) - Page 43

My fingers looped around her seaweed hair, tightening just enough to wrench her head back. “I order you to forget everything that that bastard did to you. None of that was sex. That was abuse, and it won’t happen again. You’re a woman beneath whatever slave he turned you into, and when I fucking kiss you, I expect a woman to kiss me back not a slave to shut me out. Do you understand?”

She flinched, her eyelashes sparkling with droplets. Her jaw worked, but beneath her rage, the mildest form of agreement glowed. She wanted to be normal. Despite her fighting me, she secretly hoped I’d smash her cage and teach her how to be free.

Well, I’d help her be normal.

But not tonight.

Her body softened infinitesimally as she licked her lips. My cock immediately reacted, understanding her message. In some small part of her…she wanted me to kiss her. Tongue stitches, black ocean, and whatever chaos existed between us be damned.

Fuck.

It took all my strength to shove her away from me. “Goodnight. I trust you can find your own way back.”

She sucked in a breath as I relinquished her to the ocean. For a moment, she frowned, then shook her head with a scowl.

I chuckled. “Is that disappointment, silent one?”

Her scowl turned into a snort.

“Despite what you think, you already look at me differently. You might hate the thought of what I’ll one day do to you. You might fear the thought of my cock inside you and my body smothering yours, but a small part of you wants me to do it.”

She jolted; a small splash from her fingers decorated the blackness.

I cocked my head. “Why is that? So you can stop wondering who I am and label me the same as your previous master? Or…” I rubbed my lips in promise. “Is it because you’re sick of pain and want pleasure instead?”

She scoffed, her arms spreading wide to swim away.

I should shut my mouth and let her go, but I liked making her uncomfortable. Words wouldn’t leave scars, but they could slice open old ones. “Beware of what you wish for, Pim.” I lowered my voice, thick and heavy over the waves. “Next time I kiss you, you’ll be wet and feel pleasure you’ve long since been denied. You’ll come. I won’t tolerate otherwise.”

Her head tilted up in defiance coupled with the tentative hope that I could achieve what I’d promised. That when I took her, it wouldn’t be rape but entirely consensual and mutually enjoyed.

Ducking underwater, she vanished.

I didn’t panic, counting the wet thuds of my heart in the eardrum created by the sea. A few moments later her head broke the surface by the Phantom.

Grabbing the bottom ladder rung, she hauled herself from the depths and shimmied up the side of my yacht—broken hand and all.

Fuck, what a woman.

Her naked ass as she climbed was as perfect and inviting as the moon.

WHAT THE HELL is he doing?

What the hell am I doing?

What the hell happened to me last night?

First, I’d jumped off the damn yacht.

Second, I didn’t shut down when he gathered me against his wet, naked body.

Third, I didn’t blush when he spoke about sex and coming.

And fourth…and this was the worst one…

Fourth, when he’d pulled me close as if to kiss me, I’d wanted him to. For a split second, I forgot how much I hated sex and remembered how good he’d made me feel at the white mansion.

I wanted to feel that again.

I wanted to feel that way all the time because then I wouldn’t have to feel everything else. Every bruise. Every bone. I could…forget.

But then he’d pulled away and growled rules and regulations—warning me I wasn’t a slave he wanted, yet he wanted the woman I could become.

Only…I don’t know who that is.

All I knew was that while in his care, I’d had the gift of sunshine and travel and wind. I’d wished upon stars not hidden behind glass, and my skin became honey-kissed from being outside rather than pasty, sickly white.

I wasn’t stupid.

Every gift would have to be paid back. I just expected him to demand payment now—while I was still subservient and very aware of my place as a pleasure toy. Why would he want me to be any different?

If he let me continue gluing my shattered pieces together, I’d be like normal women.

I’d have opinions and rules of my own. I might not let him sleep with me. Was that what he wanted? The challenge? The chase? A girl to fight him rather than a slave to submit?

But why?

If he wanted a relationship, why hadn’t he met someone in a bar, or however free people met these days? Why me? Why piss off my dead owner for one night with me—with the intention of fucking me with force, only to let me sleep unmolested then bring me back to life?

Tags: Pepper Winters Dollar Erotic
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