Bella knows how to get out of this—she could scream for help, but she wants me as badly as I want her. I can smell her desire for me just as I can smell her fear.

Fuck.

I can’t do it anymore.

I can’t wait any longer.

I need to feel her.

Bella buckles when I dip my fingers inside her, and for a second, I think I’m going to finish in my jeans then and there. She claws at my arms like she’s begging for more, and I’m only too happy to provide.

“Just as I thought,” I rasp. “Fucking soaked.”

“Don’t! Let go of me, Roman,” she cries.

Never.

“Don’t let go of you?” I laugh sadistically. “Oh, that was my plan. You’re all mine now.”

She squirms, moaning when another finger slides into her. She can fight me all she wants, but she’s drenching my hands, squeezing me like she doesn’t want me to run away.

She wants me.

She wants me. She wants me. She wants me.

“Do you know I was thinking about you all that time away?” I lick her skin, curling my fingers inside her needy little pussy. I could die happy inside of her. “I was going crazy thinking another guy laid a hand on you. Do you know what that does to me? Thinking that someone else is touching what’s mine,” I snarl against her hot skin, heady from how she clenches around me as I move my fingers. “I kept wondering if I consumed your every waking thought, just like you consume mine. I kept thinking about what you felt like in my hands, all the little sounds you made. Fuck, and how fucking divine you felt beneath me.”

I nudge her head to the side, and she doesn’t fight me. Good girl.

“My memories could never compare to the reality of you. Don’t you realize you were made for me? We were made for each other.” My voice comes out hoarse, because it’s taking everything in me not to push her against the door and fuck her while I’m wearing someone else’s blood.

She whimpers, moving her hips against my fingers, chasing her needs like she knows only I can fulfill.

“Say it,” I whisper. “Say my name.” I need to hear her call me Mickey so I know I have her—that I haven’t fucked up beyond repair.

She shakes her head like she wants to deny me, but rides my fingers like she wants to own me.

I rub her clit, pushing my cock against her grinding hips. “You’re so wet for me. Does your cunt miss me? Do you need me to get on my knees and taste you, so you can see the evidence of how much you want me all over my lips?”

Her lips part, and her heavy breaths fill the air, along with the sound of her desperate pussy taking my fingers. Fuck, she feels better than anything I could have ever imagined.

“So beautiful,” I murmur.

Her flushed skin reddens beneath me, but she doesn’t fight, sinking her nails into me like she’s trying to root me into place. My hold around her neck tightens in answer, promising her that I will never leave her again. I chuckle inwardly; Bella is wearing a collar made of my hands.

“You’re so breakable like this.” I smirk, flexing my fingers around her neck so she knows she will always wear me. “Completely at my mercy.”

I slow the movement of my fingers and watch her set on fire as she growls in frustration.

“Tell me you want me, and I’ll let you come.”

“Go to Hell,” she bites out.

Fiery little thing. “You’ll be right there with me. You’re my favorite sin.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She sounds so certain. Her body knows better, though, as she angles her hips like she’s trying to chase my fingers.

“Hmm,” I muse. “So feisty tonight.”

The little princess jumps when I flick her clit, making me laugh. But it doesn’t stop her from coming right back to my fingers, jerking around like she’s trying to get friction so she can come all over me.

My chest rumbles against her back. “It wasn’t a suggestion. You seem to have forgotten our promise.”

The tip of my finger dips inside her, and she throws her head back with a moan as I sink my teeth into her tender skin. She squeals in pleasure, squirming around in my arms, grazing her ass against my aching bulge in the process.

“I’ll forgive you for forgetting. I’ll just have to remind you who you’ve always belonged to. Let me make it up to you.”

She cries out when I sink my fingers inside her again, squeezing her eyes shut as her chest rises and falls like she can’t breathe. I circle her clit with my thumb, making her arch into me, grabbing at my skin like she needs me to keep upright.

Suddenly, the walls of her pussy spasm, and warm heat pours over my fingers, dripping down to my wrist and coating my sleeves. The feel of her is enough to kill a better man. “You’ll regret letting me feel your cunt coming all over my fingers. I promise you, next time, I’m breaking you on my cock.”

“There won’t be a next time,” she says, panting.

“Don’t doubt me, Isabella.”

I’m going to make you come on me every day for the rest of your life.

But before then, you’re going to say my fucking name.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 17

ISABELLA

Present

The vibrations from the car and the steady caress of a warm hand keep lulling me back to sleep. My consciousness stirs when his hand disappears, and I peel my eyes open when I hear the sound of something flickering. I angle my head to him just as an orange flame lights Roman’s face and the embers of a cigarette come to life.

I scrunch my nose. “Why are you doing that?”

He gives me a sideways glance and lifts his shoulder. “Something I picked up.”

I shift my legs to point toward the window, stopping midway to fix the blanket draped over me before I remember that he tied my hands. Right. Dick.

“It’s gross.” I try to inch my legs as far away from his as I can as a small act of defiance.

“Keeps my mouth busy.” He takes a long drag and lowers the window to exhale. “Don’t you like it?”

I look at him, dumbfounded. “Didn’t I just say it’s gross?”

Amusement is written all over his face. “You never used to be this snarky.”

“Abandonment and betrayal do that to a person,” I snap.

I’m not sure whether it’s exhaustion, trauma, or character growth, but I’m not in the mood to deal with his shit. Day in and day out, I’ve kept my mouth shut at work and at home. The rage and frustration have built until it’s overflowing, and I don’t want to hold it back anymore. Especially not toward the person who helped create me.

I was nice to him and every other male I’ve encountered, and look where it got me? Harassed, assaulted, and tied up in the front seat of a beat-up car. If my snarkiness shocks him, then great. He’s been taunting and playing mind games with me for how long now? Add that to the fact that he left me right after earning the title of ‘my first kiss’ on my birthday—of all days—upset is an understatement.

Oh, let’s not forget that he murdered my foster family while I was asleep upstairs.

He’s always been great at avoiding the consequences of his actions, but here I am: consequences.

Unfortunately, anger and frustration are an ugly look on me, as I’m just now learning that the combination of all my bottled-up emotions makes me cry. Not the pretty, dainty cry, either. No, it’s the ugly kind of crying where you can’t breathe, and snot is running from your nose and into your mouth, so you’d rather no one is around to see.

Fuck him.

Roman’s throat bobs and his lips thin. The cigarette goes flying out the window and he grabs a stress ball, pretending like the car doesn’t reek like Greg did.

“I tried getting back to you.” He sounds tired. Good. He deserves to be. Jerk.