Pennies (Dollar #1)(60)

His smile was hell itself. “Ah, there you are, little mouse. Slowly coming alive.”

Once again, the name ‘mouse’ tightened my muscles, revoking everything that I’d lived through. Any other name I could tolerate. Any other rodent noun or whore’s address—even a dreaded verb would be better.

But mouse?

How could he use that?

How dare he use something that meant so much to me?

Gritting my teeth, I shoved aside the memories doing their best to rise. I hadn’t let myself think about him in years. It was too damn hard. My mother wasn’t often in my thoughts, but at least she was still alive and blissfully unaware what had become of her daughter.

My father, on the other hand, was dead.

He was in heaven watching me from above, mourning my circumstances and seeing every foul activity I was made to do.

Horror and self-pity sat so heavy, I couldn’t breathe. I fought to sit up, to remove my hand from Mr. Prest’s hold and unlock my leg from beneath his.

I needed space.

I needed to block certain memories before they drove me mad.

But he didn’t let me go. His thigh merely tightened, his fingers forcing mine to swirl around my clit. “You hate that even more than when I call you girl.” His mouth moved, but his voice was soundless as a breath, almost apologetic while coaxing my secrets. “Tell me why.”

How when I refuse to speak?

Why when I don’t know you?

Never because you don’t deserve to know.

I hated how handsome he was reclining beside me, stealing my freedom with the artistry of his exposed torso and tattoo. His raven hair matched the opaque lines of the cavernous cavity where his organs ought to be, his lips so damn intoxicating.

But beauty did not hide a beast, and I wouldn’t be fooled.

I was done with this.

“Close your eyes, Pim. It’s much easier to let go when you’re—”

I bucked, breaking his sentence, determined to remove his control.

I refused to do what he ordered—not when I didn’t trust him.

Wait, you don’t trust Master A, but you obey.

That was true, but I knew what would happen if I didn’t. I was smart enough to choose the least painful journey. With Mr. Prest, I didn’t know what he would do in retaliation.

And it was worth risking agony in order to find out.

He might not have the balls to hit me. He might let me get away with it, and I could avoid sleeping with him, which in turn would please Master A because he didn’t want to share me.

It was a convoluted plan…but still a plan.

My shoulders rose from the bed as I struggled harder than I’d struggled in years.

His face darkened while surprise highlighted his eyes. “Keep fighting and your night will be ten times worse, silent mouse.”

I jerked, but in my unwound state, I didn’t focus on the nickname. However, I gasped as his teeth clamped over my collarbone with no finesse. I flinched as his tongue lapped over the bite of his incisors.

I couldn’t control my shiver.

“You dare disobey me?”

Yes, I dare!

I’m so over all of this!

The snout of his dragon hissed where his ribcage cracked open as he held my wriggling form. But it didn’t stop me. It didn’t scare me. The only thing that could was knowing no matter what Mr. Prest did it would never be as bad as what Master A would do.

I had to use this man to help free me or prove to Master A I was loyal and submissive. If he saw me fighting…he might be kinder to me. If Mr. Prest saw my strength, he might break me out.

Two scenarios from one brave, reckless move.

He froze, following my gaze to his tattoo and where our bodies kissed. His face etched with temper, unable to hide his frustration. For his confidence at figuring my silent replies, he would never understand why ‘mouse’ was the one name he could never call me without me hating him for eternity.

The impenetrable mask he wore (hiding everything that made him real), slipped for a second. He lost the uncouth businessman he projected and became someone riveting and unknown instead.

He studied me just as hard as I studied him.

I saw a man with control issues.

A man so used to the world bowing at his expensive feet.

But I also saw a man who knew what it was like to be me. To be the one without a choice, without a life…without hope.

Then, as if remembering that I was nothing more than a whore who existed for his discretion, his mask refastened into place.

His touch turned harsh.

“You don’t get to direct this evening’s fun, Pimlico. That’s my job.”

My breath caught as he forced my fingers to swirl harder on my clit, gathering yet more tingling electricity.

“I’ll find out sooner rather than later. You will answer me. But for now, I refuse to waste any more time.”

His cock wedged on my hip, throbbing beneath his trousers. “I want to be inside you, but for your sake, I’m going to wait until you’re dripping wet.” His nose skimmed mine. “Isn’t that fair of me? Nice of me?”

Grabbing my broken hand with his free one, he slammed it above my head, restraining me. Pinned to the mattress by his fist, body, and hips, I was completely helpless, hopeless, and utterly at his mercy.

I gulped as his throat worked hard, his hair falling over one eye as he pressed his forehead against my temple. “You’re going to feel something good, Pim. It’s all in your head.” His fingers manhandled mine to drift from clit to entrance and back again. The stroking felt different this time, less strange but just as appalling.