Shrugging out of Griff’s hold, I keep my eyes on Adam’s and drop to my knees. I sway for a second, placing one hand on the floor before finding my balance. Once I’m steady, I straighten and deliberately lick my lips, hoping my seductive side will appeal to him. His brows furrow, but he says nothing. I raise my heavy arms to his belt, undoing it with quivering hands. I’ve done this enough times before, but never in a room full of observing men.
Never to a man like this one.
I fumble with unclasping his belt, then lower his zipper. I hear a low whistle from the middle of the room, where Raife sits. My breathing quickens, nerves tightening my stomach until I feel sick. Just as I start to slip my fingers into Adam’s pants, his strong hand curls around my wrist, stopping me.
I glance up at him, my lips parted in a silent question.
This is what he wants, isn’t it?
When I try again, his grip tightens painfully. He grinds his teeth, gives a slight, barely noticeable shake of his head that feels a lot like a warning. “Who. Are. You.”
It’s then that I notice the tip of a black handle protruding from his pants pocket, mere inches from my fingers. My gaze darts back to his, the pounding in my chest quickening. His grip stays firm, but his eyes dance with a challenge.
He knows exactly what I saw. What’s within my reach.
My throat constricts when Griff kneels behind me, sidling his stomach against my back. “You wanna watch Adam while I’m inside you? Is that it?” He presses his chin into my scalp and slides his sweaty hands to my outer thighs, rubbing up and down. “Mmm. You’re gonna beg for it when I fuck you, aren’t you?” His voice is low, thick, and crazed, like a man possessed, and I’m relieved I can’t see the look in his eyes right now. “Down on your knees just like this, your mouth wide open for me.”
Blood boils beneath my skin. Images of what I’dreallylike to do to his dick resurface and make my lip curl. If he ever laid a hand on Frankie ... A ringing stirs in my ears, and I wonder if it’s from the drugs or the rage building inside me.
Adam cocks a brow, dark amusement flitting through his eyes as he takes in my expression. My gaze drifts back to his pocket, my fingers burning with an itch I can’t explain. Would Adam really let me grab the weapon? Or is this part of the test? I angle my wrist toward the knife to test him, and his hold loosens, barely.
A rush of air escapes my lips.
Griff slides his slippery tongue from my shoulder to my ear. “I wonder how fast I can get you to scream.” His words are muddled between heavy breaths. “Minutes? Seconds?”
He frees one leg from his grasp. The sharp buzz of a zipper hits my ears. His thumb slips beneath my panties, yanks until the material digs into my skin, and rips them off me. I suck in a sharp breath, unable to tear my eyes from the black handle that teases me.
I’ve never held a knife as a weapon before. With the intention to do harm. To see actual blood spill. But when Griff’s hands grab my hips, knocking me backward and positioning me over his lap like the doll I’m meant to be, the urge seeps steadily into my veins.
I can’t go through with it, can’t risk losing the only lead to my sister. But I can certainly imagine it, as vividly as the ink splattered across my paintings.
My veins turn to ice when I feel it—Griff’s erection stroking my sore ass, then dipping between my cheeks. He adjusts me so my legs are spread over his wide lap, my weight resting on my wobbling knees instead of on him, and shoves my back so I lurch forward. I barely catch myself by my hands around Adam’s ankles before my face hits the ground.
Black dots cloud my focus, blurring together then scattering apart, and my noodle-like elbows almost buckle.
Raife’s snicker echoes in the otherwise silent room. When I glance around, Felix has already left. Too boring an evening for him, I suppose.
I struggle to lift my head, finding Adam in time to see him casually tuck his hands into his pockets, then he’s inching the knife higher little by little. I drag my narrowed eyes to his face, and the handsome bastard’s lips twitch. He truly believes I’ll go for the knife before going through with this.
As Griff realigns my hips, I give Adam one final, half-assed glare then inhale deeply and brace myself.
Griff leans over me, his giant shoulders warming my back, his teeth finding my ear as he sniffs me. “You know,” he groans through a broken grunt, sliding in just enough to make my eyes squeeze shut at the threat of tearing. “I fucking hate the way you smell. What is it with our recent hires smelling like this?” He pauses to wrap a hand around my throat, and I open my eyes.
Waiting for the rest of the pain to hit me.
Ready as I’ll ever be.
I lift my chin, ensuring Adam sees all of me. My unflinching expression. Just howbreakableI really am.
Adam’s jaw ticks, any amusement wiped clean from his face. His nostrils flare as he looks from Griff to me and back again, as though only now realizing I’m not going to stop his brother. That I really am about to be, literally and figuratively, fucked.
“Hate your black hair, your starry eyes, and now that fucking smell,” Griff repeats, choking me just enough to make my lungs tighten at the threat of losing air. “Like some kinda hippy, flowery shit—”
The heavy thumping in my ears drowns out his voice, waves of manic energy vibrating from my fingertips to my toes.
Flowery.
He mutters something else as he digs into my throat until any trace of feeling drains from my face, but that particular scent being uttered by his spine-tingling voice is all I can hear on repeat.
