Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(99)
His tongue quickly flicked across his lips. Just then, I didn't believe fulfilling an old vendetta was the only fixation on his mind. He stepped closer, putting his knee on the edge of the bed, closing the distance between us.
There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I didn't give a crap about finding out what was behind the curtain – probably some luxurious room with locks on every door. He'd broken out of prison, for Christ's sake. No way would he screw up something so simple when he had an enemy in his bed – if it was his bed – and his brothers wanted me for more than just satisfying Anton's dick.
My eyes darted to his crotch. There was a noticeable bulge, bigger and meaner than anything I'd seen in my nightmares. Those stupid fantasies felt like they were in another lifetime, now that I had the real thing staring at me in the shadows.
“My beef's with your uncle and his crew, babe. Not with you. You know that, right?” The bed sank beneath his weight, and he crawled towards me, running a confident hand through my hair.
My head snapped away from him. I watched his smug smile melt out of the corner of my eye.
“I don't know anything when it comes to you. I don't want to, really, unless it has to do with when you're going to set me free.”
I met his blue gaze. His eyes rippled, fiery and intense, longing and frustrated. Two small oceans of contrasts.
“You gotta give this a chance. You work with me, you can have it all. My brothers and I are gonna put your * Uncle outta business, whether you sign off on it or not. I'm giving you a chance – one f*cking chance – to minimize the damage we've gotta do on the way to the prize. Come the f*ck on, babe. Work with me.”
“I'm not your babe!” I sat up, taking a swat at his huge arm. “You know what? We already know which way this is going to go. You're going to take me, use me, and probably end up killing me when I don't go along with any of it. Fuck it. Here. Let's get it over with.”
My last shred of sanity snapped. He couldn't invade me if I gave myself up willingly, taking away his pleasure, his conquest. Anton looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head as I slid my legs off the bed, stood, and stopped.
I fingered the straps to the gown on my shoulders, letting it fall. His blue eyes widened when he saw me almost naked, instantly drawn to my hard nipples beneath the bra.
“Take it. Lay me down and rip me apart. I won't fight it. I'll lay there like a rock. You'll f*ck me. I'll hate it. I won't even acknowledge you're in me.” I sniffed. “I'll be too busy thinking about how I'm going to get out of this, and let Uncle Gioulio know what you did so he tracks you all down and puts a bullet in every one of you.”
Anger rippled through his muscles. For a second, I thought he'd pounced, maybe do something a lot worse than shove his hips between my legs. He got up slowly, rounding the bed, taking patient steps.
When he was only a couple feet away, he laughed. I fumed. Once again, I'd completely misjudged how f*cking dark and evil the depths of this man's brain went.
“That's cute, babe. You think you've got a choice. You think you'll be able to keep it together when I'm f*cking your goddamned brains out your ears.” He paused, shook his head. “You think this is a f*cking game, don't you?”
I didn't answer. I was steeling myself for the inevitable, trying not to shake while my heart pumped scalding fire through my veins. We locked eyes, and I tried to tell myself I wasn't afraid, that I was ready to have him pressing me into the bed, f*cking me like a depraved animal. I told myself I wouldn't feel anything except hate.
But I knew it was a lie. The wet cream pooling between my legs just wouldn't stop coming. He turned my panties to mush without laying a finger on me. If I wanted to be brutally honest, the pleasure of him rubbing up against me on the ride in was just as responsible for the blackout as the exhaustion buzzing in my body.
Maybe plunging headfirst into this sick fantasy would finally get it out of my system. Maybe if I told enough lies to myself enough times, I'd believe them.
Anton glowered. He darted forward without warning, grabbing both my wrists, throwing me down on the mattress as he bent, pushing my body with his.
Determination wasn't worth a damned thing when he was on top of me. I kicked, I thrashed, I screamed, just like in the prison and the truck. He held me down, rubbing his rough body over mine. The power packed in his muscles was inevitable.
He reached down with one hand, squeezed my thigh, pushed the gown up above my belly. “Let's get one thing straight, Sabrina. This shit's no joke. I laugh about it, sure, laugh at your fiery ignorance. But there's nothing f*cking funny here. Nothing at all. You think you can challenge me? Control me? You think you've got a single shred of f*cking leverage here at all?”
He squeezed my inner thigh. Holy shit!
Desire pierced through my explosive rage. My blood, my skin, my eyes burned hot. I hated him and needed him at the same time, split down the middle by the violent storms turning my blood molten.
Anton grunted, satisfied with the way I'd melted in his arms. He pushed my legs apart and his fingers went for the waistband to my black panties before I realized what was happening.
“What's the f*cking matter? Too scared to answer? Too f*cked up already with how bad you want this dick hammering some hot wet truth outta that tight cunt?” I shook my head, denying it, terrified to let him find out I was too sopping wet for words.