“Shh,” he whispers, his hot breath hitting my face. The moon shines down on us, making his dark eyes shine. They bore into mine intently, hungrily, causing my pussy to tighten. “You wanted it. Now take it.”
I willingly gave him my virginity. Our first time wasn’t slow and sweet because that’s not him. It’s not me. I like when he hurts me. When he chokes me. Or when he rips my shirt, throws me on the bed, and fucks me until I can’t walk. He takes great pleasure in making my body weak.
My pussy clenches at the thought, knowing how rough he’ll be since it’s been a few days. He’s always the most barbaric after he comes back from a job with his father. I used to try to get him to tell me what he did, but he never discloses that information, so I gave up asking.
“I imagined your nails scraping down my back. Your heels digging into my ass. Speaking of ass …” His hand cups it and lifts me off my feet.
I shriek in surprise as he slams my back into the wall next to the window that overlooks the courtyard. I wrap my legs around his narrow hips and hook my heels together. Then his lips are on mine. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, and I welcome it. My hips grind into his, and my hands go to his dark, luscious hair, gripping and pulling. He growls into my mouth before pulling away quickly, leaving my lips feeling swollen and bruised. My underwear instantly soaked.
His dark eyes look down into mine, and he licks his wet lips. “Cancel,” he repeats, now panting. “Tell me I can spend the rest of the day drowning in that pussy of yours.”
Four years later
THE MORNING LAS Vegas sun beats down on me. Sweat covers my face, neck, and chest along with the rest of my body. “Garden” by Halsey blares in my ears from my wireless earbuds. My phone strapped to my upper arm.
My feet pound the ground as I push myself, knowing I don’t have much farther to go. This is my morning ritual; wake up, drink a cup of coffee, and then run until I feel like I’m dying. It helps clear my mind and keeps me in shape.
I see the old stone and stucco mansion come into view at the end of the two-lane road in the exclusive neighborhood. I’m sucking in breath after breath, and my sides burn, but I push harder. Faster. My thighs scream, and my feet hurt, but I don’t quit. I’m too close. My once tight ponytail has come loose, and strands hang down around my face, sticking to my sweat-covered neck and chest. It makes my skin itch.
My mind wanders, thinking about where I am in my life right now and why I’m still stuck here in Sin City. At twenty-four years old, I’m currently living with my parents and trying to get my train wreck of a life back on track. I’m what most would call a fucking mess. But am I supposed to have my life figured out at my age? I’ve heard stories from others that you’re expected to go crazy in your twenties, to party and sleep around. If you ask the right people, they’d say I’m on the right track.
Nearing the end of the road, I take a hard right through the open gate, and the sight of a black Bugatti La Voiture Noire makes me stumble.
As if my legs trip over an imaginary rope, I fall on the driveway, my knees hitting the hot concrete first. Then I drop to my side, rolling a few times from the momentum. “Motherfucker!” I hiss, yanking the damn earbuds from my ears.
Looking over at the car sitting in my parents’ driveway, I feel like a hurricane is about to destroy everything in my life without any warning. No time to board up my feelings and hide away from what I know will be catastrophic to my psyche.
Nothing involving that car is ever good. And the black Cadillac SUV with bulletproof windows parked beside it can only belong to one person.
Pushing up to my feet, I don’t even bother brushing off my bloody knees or elbows. Instead, I storm up the steps to the two glass front doors and shove them open. “Dad?” It bounces off the high ceilings and grand foyer. I can’t tell if my heart is pounding due to my fall or the fact that he’s here.
What the hell …?
“Dad!” I shout this time, storming down the long hallway and then running up the spiral staircase to his office on the second floor. I come to the closed door and don’t even bother knocking. Instead, I barge into it, sucking in breath after breath.