He roughly chuckles, the sound harsher than what I’ve come to know and adore from Rafael. “Yes, you are. You’re my little rabbit, aren’t you?” That’s because it’s not Rafael. This is Santos—the man who wants to break my body and mind, mold them in his palm so he might tuck me into his pocket and keep me forever.
This isn’t a man in love.This is a man possessed.
My toes curl.
“Rafael?” His name comes out far breather than I intend, and part of me doesn’t expect him to acknowledge me.
A greater part of me hopes he won’t.
I love Rafael, but I crave Santos—I crave the release and oblivion only he can give me.
He tsks. “Don’t ruin the fun, little rabbit.”
I shift on my feet, chills erupting over my skin, my nipples aching against the rough feel of my shirt. “What do I need to do then?”
He laughs again, the sound grating against my nerve endings. I still can’t see him, but I can hear him, shuffling closer and closer. And when I feel like my heart might just burst from both fear and anticipation, his face flashes into the small pool of light, far closer than I even realized. His face splits into a vicious grin. “Run, little rabbit.”
And I do.
I tear out of the kitchen, toward the front door and burst out into the frigid night air. I don’t feel her familiar chill, thescorching adrenaline pumping through my veins warding off anything but fire.
I can’t hear him behind me, but I can feel him. I can feel his breath, his wicked grin, his heated gaze—he’s close, but I can’t stop. My arms pump at my sides, my legs eating up the space with greater speed than I think I’ve ever managed.
Still, it’s not enough. I know he’s gaining on me when I hear him laugh, the sound so full of exhilaration and promise, I stumble over myself, my entire body trembling from the shiver that splits down my spine.
I’m terrified.But I’ve never felt more alive.
“I’m gonna catch you, Little Rabbit, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
I squeal, pushing my body harder, but it’s not enough. His muscle-bound arm wraps around my middle, the momentum of my feet folding me over in a huff of air as he grips me. “Let me go!” I shriek, flailing my legs.
He only grips me tighter, pulling my body to his chest, his free hand wrapping around my throat to twist my face to his before his lips crash against mine. It’s a punishing kiss—vicious and unrelenting—and even though my pride demands I continue to fight him, I melt against his mouth like the desperate, meek, needy woman I’ve become.A little rabbit, indeed.
We stumble forward, my focus wholly on him and his on me, and we crash into the truck parked in front of the house, my legs taking the brunt. I cry out, but I don’t stop kissing him. I can’t. I’m a fucking mad woman.
His breathing catches, and for a single moment, I fear he’ll let this game go, more afraid of hurting me. But I don’t want that. Tonight, I want to be broken. Tomorrow, I want to wake up with bruises as the reminder of who I am, what I can endure,who I belong to.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I snarl, and his grip around my throat tightens.
“You’re a fucking vixen, an evil woman, a siren singing me to my death.” His teeth nip at my lip. “Fuck!” he snarls into my mouth. “The taste of tequila on your tongue drives me fucking crazy. Were you thinking of me when you drank it?” I nod as his tongue spears into my mouth again, taking another taste. I pant against him as I reach behind me to find purchase anywhere I can—his head, his neck, his back and ass. I want to feel him everywhere, anywhere, inside and out. “So fucking desperate. My desperate whore.”
“Yes,” I mewl, rubbing against him like a dog in heat, not even trying to deny it.
Both his hand around my middle and neck begin to wander, feeling for the hem of my shirt. Growing frustrated and impatient, he grips the neckline of the simple, navy long-sleeve and tears. It rips with a satisfying hiss, baring my chest to the frigid air and the even colder press of the truck in front of me. I cry out, my nipples frozen, aching peaks where they rub against the metal.
Rafael doesn’t notice, his hands hungrily eating up the skin like this is the first and last time he might have me, like if he doesn’t soon, he might die. When he reaches my nipples, though, his rough palms grazing my sensitive buds, he freezes, his breath wheezing out of his body.
“What’ve you—” he snarls, whirling me around so quickly, my head bangs against the glass of the window. My chest heaves upward toward his waiting gaze, the moonlight glinting off the fresh hardware now stationed in the rosy tips. As if in a trance, he reaches up, lifting one hoop with the pad of his forefinger, inspecting it before flicking his gaze to the other.
“Do you like them?” I pant, suddenly nervous at the prospect I might’ve underestimated his love for the silver bars instead.
He nods, but his mouth does not open, his eyes transfixed on the onyx metal. They’re not heavy by any means, but they aren’t the smallest hoops one can buy either. Their weight, distributed outward from my body, does bring about a feeling of constant tugging, and I haven’t gotten used to them yet. It’s a delicious thrill, and I absentmindedly push my chest upward toward his tentative fingers.
His gaze snaps to mine, warning glittering in the mossy orbs. Without saying a word, the tip of his pointer finger slides into the ring, tugging slightly, and I gasp, my body instantly quivering.
Rafael smiles, a mean, deviant smile, and then smashes his lips to mine. I moan again into his mouth, my legs wrapping around his waist as he uses the truck to keep me hoisted up. I’m met with the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my ass, and I’m suddenly aware of just how many clothes separate us.
“What a whore you are indeed,” he snarls.
