Something sparks in my chest, like a fuse going haywire. Fuck.
“One more word about that bastard,” my voice shakes with fury, “and I swear to God, Bella, I’ll put a fucking bullet through his skull.”
Her eyes widen, and understanding crosses her face when she sees the resolve in mine. There’s silence for a moment before she speaks again.
“I know what you’re trying to do.” She jabs a finger at me. “And I’ll never be yours.”
The way she says it with such intensity is almost laughable.
“Oh, you will be, Bella,” I tell her in a low, razor whisper. “Because I’ll claim you in life, and in hell; and if you haven’t already noticed, I’ll burn the fucking world down until eternity bends to my will.”
She pauses, a slight gasp pulling from her lips. My nostrils flare at the sight, and a primal urge overtakes me.
I rip the gown in one brutal tug, baring her thighs to my hands. She gasps, trying to push me back, but it only makes the blood run hotter in my veins.
“You’ve been very defiant,” I hiss, pushing her onto her stomach across the seat. “And defiant girls”—my palm cracks against her ass, and her cry muffles in the leather—“get punished.” I tear a strip of her ruined gown and bind her wrists.
Her breath is ragged, her body trembling, but her hips still arch into my palm, betraying her. “You feel that?” Leaning in, I murmur against her ear, spanking her again. “That’s me teaching you who you belong to.”
Her muffled whimper is half pain, half hunger. The sound shreds what little restraint I have left.
I drag her upright by her bound wrists, forcing her to straddle me fully. Her breasts spill from the torn bodice, and my hands close around them greedily. “You’re mine!” I growl, sucking a nipple hard enough to draw out another whimper. “Say it,” I demand. “Say who owns you.”
She shakes her head. I shove her back against the leather, parting her legs roughly until my fingers brush her folds. She tries to close her legs, but the sound that rips from her throat when I press harder tells me everything I need to know.
“You’re soaked,” I rasp against her ear, dragging my fingers through her wetness before spanking her pussy. “Tell me”—Iforce her chin up, making her meet my eyes—“is this for me or the bloody bastards who couldn’t keep their eyes off you?”
Her lips tremble, but no words come out.
In my book, no answer is a wrong answer. So I push two fingers inside her, pumping until her bound wrists strain against the restraints. Her hips jerk, helpless against the seat.
“When I ask you a question, you fucking answer me.” My free hand grips her throat, pinning her head back. “Who makes you this wet?”
Her body bows, a strangled moan escaping as my fingers hit the right spot. “Y-you—”
“Louder.”
“You! Dominic! You!”
Her orgasm coats my fingers as I drag them out slowly, bringing them to my lips and tasting her sweetness. My cock strains against my pants, but I force myself to shift away, creating barely enough distance between us. “Remember that the next time you let another man touch you.”
My suit jacket comes off my body with a single tug as I toss it at her. “Cover yourself.”
I signal for the driver to enter, and we drive back home in silence. Isabella stares out the window, a flustered, breathless mess just as she should be.
We get to the mansion, and I wait for her to get out of the vehicle before trailing behind her as we head inside.
When we reach the corner that divides the wings, she stops short, turning to me with anger. “You’re really a piece of work.”
The bite in her tone only makes me want her more. My lips twitch. “Come here.”
She squares her shoulders, not moving. Her fists clench by her sides, and she looks like she has more to say when I dash forward and crush her into me with a firm hand on her waist. Without warning, I fist her hair and crash my lips against hers, swallowing the moan that escapes.
I lift her easily, not breaking the kiss as I carry her to my room and throw her on the bed. “Take off your clothes.”
She’s breathless, but her eyes shine with defiance. “And if I don’t?”
My action answers for me instead as I rip the little remains of her dress off her. She lies fully exposed before me, her nipples hardening instantly in the cool air. I force myself not to touch them. Anticipation is its own form of torture.
