Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Cassandra grabs my wrist before I can put the swab to the cut, and I think for a moment that she’s going to pull it away and tell me she’s done. Which she isn’t, because I can still see grit in the wound. But instead she pulls my hand to her forehead herself, wincing and gritting her teeth as she wipes deeper into the cut than I would have. Her eyes search my face as she cleans out the cut, then she sits forward, reaches into the first aid kit, and takes out a band-aid.
In silence, she watches me as she applies it, then stands and leans back against the counter.
“All better now, Mr. Volos.” Defiantly, she glances down at my crotch, and I feel my cock engorge all over again. For a moment, I’d been lost in making sure she wasn’t hurt, but now? Now I’m just lost. “You have no more excuses to keep me here.”
What is this girl’s game? She’s all alone with me here. I know her job was to seduce me, but surely it’s supposed to stop at flirting.
The way she’s looking at me right now, I’d swear she’s forgotten all about being an FBI agent. Is she that good?
When I don’t respond in words, she laughs, like she’s just scored some sort of victory. Then she takes a step forward. And another. And another. Until she’s so close I’m sure I can smell the scent of her pussy underlining her floral perfume.
“Well, I’ll be going then,” she whispers, looking up into my face.
But when she turns to leave, I lose control.
Chapter Four
Cassandra
I gasp as he grabs my arms hard, gripping me near the shoulders. When I laugh, it’s unexpected, even to me, but it only drives him mad, fingers slipping to my throat, pressing firmly, cutting off my airway. A slight panic takes over, and I squirm, but my panties take a hit as he turns me and stares into my eyes.
“No,” he growls, a snarl on his lips. He’s almost feral right now, and nothing could be more exciting.
“Yes,” I choke out as he loosens his grip to rest beneath my chin, defiant to the end. I cough, my voice strained when I next speak. “I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“You think I can’t keep you here if I want to? Sweetheart, you have no idea.”
“You promised. You said you wouldn’t do anything without my consent.”
“I did, didn’t I?” In an instant, he’s right in my face, pressing forward, nearly lifting me from the floor by my chin. “I lied, little girl.”
I know I shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not now. And certainly not with him. He’s twenty years my senior, old enough to be my father and then some. He’s my target. He’s a criminal.
He clearly has desires that go beyond a simple roll in the hay. And apparently, I have no choice.
Is this really turning me on? Being choked out and claimed by a man who might kill me if he ever finds out who I really am? Not an hour ago I watched him cut off a man’s ear without a second thought.
Yet, I want this. I want him to want it. And I want him to take it from me.
That thought spurs me on, and I bring my knee up into his balls.
His grip loosens as he doubles over, and I take the opportunity to pull away. “Fuck you!” I scream, then slap him across the face for good measure. “Fuck you, I’m not some little girl you can boss around. I give as good as I get, Apollo. Don’t you forget it.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m not going to forget this. You can count on it.”
When he rises back to his feet, there’s blood in the corner of his mouth. I want to kiss it away, I want to apologize for hurting him, but I won’t. I can’t show any weakness right now. He wouldn’t respect it.
His gray eyes are narrowed on me, dark hair slicked back like it’s still the early eighties and he’s just some street thug. But Apollo Volos is no street thug. His suit is impeccable, so expensive most people couldn’t even afford to look at it, his square jaw is covered with salt-and-pepper stubble that looks like it was painted there by God himself. I want to see beneath his shirt. I want to get at the bulge I see stretching his pants.
I want it to be the first cock I ever get my hands on, the first cock I ever open my mouth to, the first cock I ever allow between my legs.
And the last cock I’ll ever experience.
I take a step back as that thought shocks me, and he steps forward. It’s as if we’re dancing as I move to the side. One step, another, as he matches each one. There’s a block of knives on the island, if I can get to them…