“Look at me!” Sandman bellows, his hand latching onto my throat with unyielding force.
Panicked, I grasp onto his wrist with both hands in a vain effort to ease his crippling hold.
“You will never know peace again.” His grip tightens, completely blocking air circulation.
Within seconds, burning pressure claws through my chest. I feel myself slipping away; my world growing dimmer with each fleeting heartbeat. Strangulation is personal—a slow, agonizing induction to the afterlife.
I can’t die. Not like this.
My oxygen-deprived mind races, ruminating on the past, present, and what could have been. Specifically, the catastrophic decision that led to this very moment—the day my cowardice resulted in irreparable damage to my beloved best friend.
I want him back.My Sam. My protector, my keeper of secrets, my shoulder to cry on.
But he’s gone forever, replaced by this sadistic monster. I study his granite features—the sneer twisting his full, beautiful lips, the throbbing vein on his right temple, the maniacal elation gleaming in his cornflower-blue orbs. He’s enjoying choking the life from me. His grip loosens, and air immediately fills my deflated lungs… then he squeezes again.
Over and over.
Taking me to death’s door, then pulling me back at the last possible second.
After what seems like an eternity, he releases me. I wilt tothe floor, coughing and gasping for breath. He grabs a chair and drags it in front of the dance pole, heavy boots crunching along the broken glass.
“Dance,” he commands, sprawling in the high-back chair.
I clamber to unsteady legs, shuddering sobs ripping through my naked body. I’m in his territory.The Gods’ Territory. There’s no use in calling out for help. Not here, not anywhere. It’s pointless and highly dangerous. Sandman is a ticking time bomb. One wrong move and I’m done for.
I stagger toward the dance pole, skirting the shards of broken glass.
“No!” he booms, freezing me to the spot. “Walk through the glass.”
I venture forward, body shaking, cautiously placing one foot in front of the other. Mind whirling. Heart thundering. Each step more nerve-racking than the last.
A stabbing pain falters my steps. I cry out, coming to a standstill.
“Keep walking!”
Tears streaming down my face, I limp the short distance to the dance pole, blood painting a trail behind me. My hand wraps around the cool metal—then I hesitate. I don’t know what to do.
Sandman opens his cut, revealing the gun stashed in his shoulder holster. The silent threat is loud.Obey or suffer the consequences.
“Dance,” he growls, freeing his intimidating length. “And make it sexy.”
I inhale a quivering breath and circle the pole, awkwardly fondling my nipple. Sandman caresses his erection in slow, deliberate strokes, peering at me with unrestrained lust in his eyes.
Does he plan to just watch, or will he take it further?
He won’t be gentle.
My first time is supposed to be special. I want loving kisses and warm embraces.
This afflicted man, whose raw desire is more suffocating than his chokehold, will only give me pain and scorn. I broke him, and now he plans to break me in turn. Karma is hell on wheels.
Having no clue what to do next, I try to remember moves from my majorette days. I never imagined that knowledge would be the difference between life and death. I execute a scorpion and split combo, hoping it’ll be enough.
“Come ’ere,” Sandman demands.
I trudge over to him, heart thudding rapidly in my chest, praying I survive the night in one piece. He seizes my waist with strong fingers and pulls me between his spread thighs, his lengthy erection brushing against my leg.
“I want to kill you, but I can’t,” he states, frustration mirrored in his words. “Why can’t I kill you?”
