I chuckle, a shiver racking her body in response.
“You’re going to meet God in one of two ways, Reverie,” I whisper. “Either way, I’ll be between your legs when you do.”
CHAPTER 14
REVERIE
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be happening.
This literally cannotbe fucking happening.
The moment I felt him harden between my legs, I chalked it up to yet another physical reaction that means absolutely nothing. Two body parts pressed together, and boom, something biological happens that neither party can control.
Just like that kiss.
But his stupid-ass ultimatum is ruining that.
“Drown, or I fuck you.”
What the fuck kind of options are those?
“How about you let me go peacefully,andwe never talk about this again? In fact, let’s never see each other again, either,” I suggest shakily, casting another nervous glance over my shoulder.
Right now, I’d love nothing more than to unglue myself from his body, but I’m hanging over the edge of a pool, and the mereidea of dipping a toe into the water has me breaking out in a cold sweat.
When he threw me in last time, I felt like I was having a heart attack. And then he kissed me, and it still felt like a heart attack, but for an entirely different reason. When I ran away afterward, I spent the rest of the night fighting off that memory.
A phantom burn builds in my lungs, reminding me of that feeling when they were screaming at me for oxygen, but all I could give them was more water. The absolute terror, the helplessness… it lingers on the outskirts of my brain, threatening to drag me back into it, only prompting me to tighten my hold on Dread.
He’s not a safe place, but right now, I cling to him likehe’smy oxygen.
“There will never be peace between us, darling,” he murmurs darkly. “As long as you’re breathing, I’m in agony. If this is my fate, then we will suffer together.”
I shake my head, a shot of anger spiking in my system. I hold on to that, desperate to feel anything other than the panic sticking to my insides like wax.
“Is this the part when I plead for you to do anything else to me? Do I play into your misogyny and offer to be your maid instead? Because that’s not a respectable job, right? Should I use a toothbrush and wear a skimpy maid outfit, too, so you feel like I’m truly being humiliated?”
He scoffs. “Is that what you believe? That I want to see a woman scrubbing my floor because I think that’s below me? Baby, I’d be happy to see you on your hands and knees for me, but don’t think I won’t be kneeling right behind you.” He hums, the sound bordering on a groan. “And I can assure you, that floor will be a fucking mess by the time I’m done with you. Nothing a mop won't fix, though.”
My breath hitches, his devilish tone sending a tremor skirting down my spine. Despite my brain wanting to hit him over the head with a baseball bat, my body responds to his words with little resistance—heating, tingling, an uncomfortable feeling forming in the pit of my stomach before slowly sinking lower and lower.
My legs tighten around his hips again, though not out of fear this time. Except it presses his rock-hard length deeper against my center, eliciting a sharp throb from my clit that has my lashes fluttering with bliss. I’m so fucking lucky we're cheek to cheek so he doesn't see the stupid reaction.
“Why are you being like this?” I choke out, at a loss for wordsotherwise. I can't tell if it's because of the terror, shock, or the insistent pulsing between my legs.
“Because you fucking bore me,” he snaps, his voice darkening, only to lighten into a mocking lilt as he says, “but I’ve discovered I might enjoy all the different ways I can make you scream.” He hums again, sounding pleased. “There’s so much more I can do to you.”
He takes a step toward the pool, and my muscles harden into stone.
I grind my teeth, angry tears rising to the surface. He wants to fuck me to humiliate me, to gain power over me in yet another way.
“You’re fucking sick,” I spit, my lips trembling as fury bubbles in my chest. “How does this make you any different from Lionel, huh? Fucking me against my will and threatening to kill me? Sound familiar to you?”
“You wanna know the difference, darling?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Those women didn’t deserve what happened to them.” His breath tickles my ear a moment before he whispers, “You do.”
The mix of fury, hurt, and terror creates a dangerous concoction in my chest. Like mixing sodium with water, the result is explosive. Red bleeds into my vision, and I react without thinking—without a fucking ounce of self-preservation.
