My pulse thump-thump-thumps against my skin. “I’m not going to be your fucking pet.”
“You’re telling me no?” He slips his phone into his pocket.
I run my hand through my hair. Why does it always feel like he has the upper hand? “I’m not telling you no. If you want my dick, you can have it. Ride it to your heart’s content, but I won’t be your fucking pet.”
“Sure you won’t.”
“I’m serious. And I want my gun back.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t make the rules here. I gave you the choice to pay your debt like a respectable man would and because I’m not a fucking rapist, but this is my game, and you’re my entertainment.”
How would he react if he knew I’m as entertained by him as he is me? But the truth is, he knows. I basically admitted it. “How am I supposed to keep my mom safe without a weapon?”
“First, Kat can take care of herself. Second, until you pay me back, you’re mine, and if there’s one thing we do, it’s protect what’s ours. If someone hurts her, they’ll have me to deal with.” He takes a hit off a vape, and for the first time, I notice what looks like a small toy in his hand. Neither of thosethings is enough to distract me from what Rory said, though. That I would be his. That he protects what’s his. Hunger and disgust fight like oil and water in my gut.
I don’t need him. I’ve never fucking needed anyone, and I’m not about to start now, but…but I’ve never had someone claiming me and fighting for me that way either. Not even my own mom.
The thought should be vile, like when Rory said Ollie belonged to Cillian, but the warmth radiating off my skin isn’t disgust. It’s hunger.
“What?” Rory asks. “What are you thinking right now?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmm. Must have been something good. Your eyes glazed over, and now you’re lying about it.”
“I didn’t… I’m not… God, you’re fucking infuriating!” I turn away and pace the small living room. I decide to ignore everything he just said and focus on the important topic at hand. “How does that help? Because she’s still fucking hurt.”
“I’ll think about it.” He pushes to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To fuck.” He walks toward the front door.
“I have a bed, lube, and condoms here. And we didn’t talk specifics. I’m not fucking you for an indefinite amount of time. I don’t do boyfriends.”
He laughs. “And you think I do? Relationships aren’t me, pet. This is all about fun. Five hundred dollars per night of fucking—if we do it twice in one night, it counts as once. We do it until you pay me back, unless I’m done with you first, which honestly is a possibility. And a bed is not the only place to have sex. I’m also not in the mood to scandalize Mama Kat.”
“Can you not call my mom that?” Jesus, he makes menuts. I never feel like I’m gaining any ground with him. I grab my jacket, though, clearly willing to go with him.
“You’re so picky about everything.”
“Fuck off.”
“But then you won’t be able to fuck me. I hope you’re not a disappointment.”
Jesus, this guy. “I know how to work my dick, thank you very much. It’s pierced too, if you were curious. And I’m sure you saw how big it is.”
He turns toward me. “No shit? Huh. That sounds fun. I like to try new things.”
We head outside into the freezing night. It’s the day before Christmas Eve, not that holidays matter to me. I don’t remember the last time my mom got me something, and to be fair, I don’t get her anything either.
I climb into the passenger seat of Rory’s BMW, shoot a quick text to my mom to let her know I left with him, then whistle. “The Mafia pays good money.”
“We live like fucking kings.”
“Must be nice.” It’s not until my seat belt is in place that I realize this could all be an elaborate ruse and he’s taking me somewhere to beat my ass or kill me. He doesn’t seem the type, though—not that he wouldn’t kill me, he would, but he’d be honest about it. If I’m wrong, I’ll go out fighting.
“You taking me on a date first?” I ask.
