Page 38

I’m married and it only took thirteen signatures. No traditional dress, no party, no happiness. I don’t know why it brings tears to my eyes. I never thought about marriage but not being able to experience it with someone I love kind of stings. I hate myself for even thinking this way. I just married the devil himself, I should be scared, not sad about not having a proper wedding. Shit, I should have brought my gun with me, or the lawyer should have left his pen for me to stab him in his pretty face. My cheeks heat. No, the man isn’t pretty; he’s rough, uncultured. Where Moon is grace, Tian is a loose cannon always hopping around Moon like a bunny. A killer bunny. Yes, he’s a killer bunny, wearing three-thousand-dollar tailor-made black suits. Those dark eyes seem to look right through my soul. His hair messy and long, like he’s been running his hands through it the whole night. I start to blush when a vision of him hovering above me while his hair tickles my face flashes through my mind.

“Are you done thinking of ways to kill me?” Tian inquires, sounding bored with this whole situation.

“No, and I don’t intend to stop till you actually are, motherfucker.”

He runs his thumb over the corner of his lip, his clean-shaven face only betraying being married to me too. I can see it in his eyes; he hates this as much as I do.

“I didn’t want to marry you either, but me and Moon decided it’s in the best interest of the future of the Triad.”

“Fuck the Triad and fuck you,” I spit out. My blood is literally boiling as my heart goes into overdrive.

He shakes his hair out of his eyes, pushing himself from the glass window. One second, he’s across the room, and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of me. He slams my ass against the table again. I fall backwards, letting out a startled cry. I try to reach into his suit jacket while he presses both palms next to my head, his long black hair tickling my lips.

“Don’t even think about taking my gun out or kicking me in the balls again. You belong to me now. What I say goes. It’s better to remember that, to make both our lives easier.”

“I’m not going to be a pawn in our family’s game. Or whatever you and Moon planned.”

“You already are, we all are,” he says, sounding angry when his voice goes deeper. I feel the tone right in the pit of my stomach.

I smile, making him frown and before he has any notion of what’s happening, I grab him by the balls squeezing tight. Pushing the barrel of his gun against the slit of my black dress he smirks. The fucker clutches my neck with his other hand while I pinch my fingers together. Growling, his cheeks turn a shade of pink from the pain I hope, or pure anger, I don’t care.

I do start to care a little bit when he closes his fingers around my throat, cutting off my oxygen and sending a jolt of pain down my spine while he pushes my dress up, tearing the crotch of my pantyhose. I groan as cold air washes over my drenched core.

He swallows hard, aligning the cold barrel against my clit. I loosen my tight grip on his junk while he presses his gun against my pussy, parting my lips through my panties. He keeps his eyes locked on mine while I place my other hand on his, pleading for him to ease his hold on me.

“Let go then,” he bites out through his teeth, his face starting to get a flush to it.

“Not before you take your gun from my cunt,” I counter, raising a single brow as a threat.

“I like the way you say that word,” he says, brushing his parted lips over my forehead, down my temple, making my head throb like my heart.

My head is killing me, and I can barely move my arms or legs. The man knows what he’s doing.

He exhales a breath, looking at me darkly. I gasp when he moves the barrel over my clit slowly from left to right, the cold of the metal sending a shiver down my spine as I arch up involuntarily. His eyes widen in response, his dark brows raising a little. But there’s no emotion there, just emptiness. He hates me, that much is obvious.

“It’s only fair we do a trade, when you have your tiny hands on my junk.”

I squeeze again and he lets out a deep groan. Our eyes meet. He’s getting off on this. Does he like the pain? My eyes bulge, he does, doesn’t he? Fuck it, I’m screwed.

My pussy floods with wetness when he looks down between my spread legs, his thighs pushing my hips wider, almost painfully. The pantyhose I’m wearing scrapes over the sensitive spot. But I guess that’s what he wanted to show me, that I can try to defy him but at the end of the day he’s the one who owns my life. Breathing heavily as he slowly lets go of my neck. I trail my eyes over the table, looking for a weapon to use. Nothing.

“I like the scared look on your face,” he rasps, slowly running his nose along my temple, down to my lips.

“I’m not scared,” I croak out.

“You’re not,” he breathes, running his lips over my cheekbone. He bumps the tip of his nose against mine. My eyes widen while he does it again. When his hot breath teases my lips, I stifle a moan. Why does he smell so good? I need to fight the asshole. To not want him. He’s only using me. But maybe I can play this game too. Get him to like me, love me before I walk away. Because I’m walking away in the end, no matter how many cute bunny nose bumps he gives me, like he’s doing now. Damn you, killer bunny!

He lets go of my neck, and I gasp for air, letting go of his junk, but within a flash he grabs my wrists to pin them high above my head. He spreads my legs wider, and the black panty rips. His eyes land on my skin and I try to close my legs in response, but he pushes back. The man doesn’t even have to try when he’s got forty kilos or more on me. He’s like steel, refusing to budge as I use every last ounce of strength I possess.

He keeps slowly rubbing my clit with the barrel of his gun over my pantyhose and panties, while I’m starting to pant.

“Do you want me to beg you to stop?” I grit through my teeth. “Not going to happen, fucker. I don’t do begging.” I swear in Mandarin, the last word coming out as a moan. He smiles and I want to punch him in the face.

“Why?” he asks in Cantonese to piss me off, frowning while he pushes my hands up higher, making me arch my back. He licks his lips when he looks between my legs. I don’t know what he sees, my dress is obscuring most of his gun, but I can feel it. Without warning, he slams his gun on the table; I eye it before starting to struggle to get free. He seems to like me putting up a fight, judging by the wicked smile appearing on his lips before it’s gone in the blink of an eye.

He reaches between my legs, tearing my panties at the crotch until there’s no fabric left; cold air hits my drenched core and I hate myself in that moment while I close my eyes.

I should be fighting the man but why am I pushing myself against his palm. Is this a good plan, making him believe he’s getting me? And then what? Run away? As if Moon would let me. Hell, I don’t know anymore.