Chapter 10 #2
He hums, pulling me in closer, his lips an inch from mine.
“You break into my house, trash it, threaten me. Again. This time with a fucking barrel pointed at my dick. Shoot off a couple bullets. And now you expect to just walk out of here in one piece?” His breath his hot on my face, igniting that heat in my core.
Setting it on fire. “I’m gonna hurt you, Gracie. ”
I dig my nails into his wrist. Trying to free myself, maybe. Or encourage him to squeeze harder. A punishment. For all I’ve done, for the trouble I’ve brought with me. For the life I took.
Rough. Violent. Unrestrained ferocity. I’m like that too.
A brutality that was bred and built into me, that keeps leading me down this road, that starts with heart-beating, pulse-thumping, adrenaline-racing-through-my-veins kind of excitement and ends with me speeding down a highway on my bike with blood still dripping from my hands.
I don’t want Decker to be gentle. I want it to hurt.
I want to feel it in every dark corner of my body.
On every inch of my skin. Then I’d get what I deserve.
Or maybe it would help me forget. If I let this feeling take over.
Allow my mind to clear and my body to fill with desire and need and nothing else.
Here, now, there’s no knife. No body. No enemies hunting me.
Just him. And his hand around my throat.
Smirking, he backs me up against his bedroom wall.
I scratch at his arm, my nails breaking skin. His grip only gets tighter.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “Can see it all over your pretty fucking face. You might as well be begging for it.”
Vision darkening, I struggle against his hold. It’s getting harder to think.
He skims a finger down my cheek, over my jaw, and then lower.
Exploring my body. The way I explored his two nights ago.
Trailing over my arm and chest, over the mounds of my breasts.
Down to my waist, clutching my hip. Every sensation is heightened, every touch magnified by one thousand as my brain searches for oxygen.
Pulling back, he gives me a quick reprieve. But just as oxygen starts filling my lungs, as blood starts flowing back into my brain, he starts again, pinning me in place.
I rest my head against the surface behind me, surrendering to the euphoria taking over. Throat under palm. Body tight to the wall. Bursts of pleasure igniting beneath my skin.
He feels it too. It’s etched all over his face, written in his eyes, in his dark, lustful, hungry expression. Like the last time he had me like this, when he flirted his fingers over the sensitive flesh at my throat, he’s testing me, waiting for me to tap out.
But I’m drunk off the feeling, off the heat unfurling deep in my belly, the wetness in my panties, the hardness pressing into my thigh that is definitely not his belt buckle.
He toys with the edge of my skirt, drags his fingers up my thigh, his hot breath gusting over my neck, sending a shiver scuttering up my spine. “Say it, then, Grace. Beg for it. Tell me what you want. And maybe I’ll think about giving it to you .”
I grit my teeth. Another way to push me to tap out.
If I give in, maybe I get what I want. The product and cash I came searching for, or a naked Lincoln Decker on top of me with his hands around my throat.
Regardless of what he’s offering, regardless of the way my body begs me to give in, I won’t take the bait.
“Fuck you.”
He laughs, the sound a low rumble in his chest. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“In your dreams.”
“No, Gracie, in yours.” He releases me and takes a step back.
The sensation is like a goddamn ice bath. I gasp, taking a breath much too big for my oxygen-starved lungs.
He gives me his back, his head lowered, and shifts, like he’s adjusting himself.
Then he does a full rotation, surveying his bedroom, the destruction I caused.
Taking in the clothes strewn all over the floor, the shredded pillows, the open boxes.
I even pried up the heating vents. Maybe I went a little overboard, but I still plan to use that product and cash to barter for my life, regardless of how unlikely it is that move will play out in my favour.
I can’t keep this up. The running. The hiding. The shitty motels. Dirty truck stop bathrooms. I’m tired, desperate, and out of options. I need this to work. I need this mess cleaned up. So I need my shit back. Now.
Decker picks up the gun from the bed, and before I can even react, shoots the wall a few inches from my head.
I scream on instinct, my heart jumping into my throat.
He steadies the weapon on me next.
My stomach drops and my breath catches, adrenaline spiking in my veins as I frantically search for a way out of this. Arm outstretched, he advances. He only stops when the gun is pressed to my forehead. Gone is that hunger in his eyes. There’s nothing left but anger. Darkness. Violence.
Tears tickle at the back of my eyes. Holding my breath, I will them away. Then I raise my hands in surrender.
Only he doesn’t drop the gun.
Unable to keep the quiver from my voice, I say, “You won’t.”
“Fucking try me.”
“No, Linc. I know you won’t.” My pulse hammers in my ears. “You’re… you’re still the good guy.”
He scoffs. “I’m not. Haven’t been for a very long time. The quicker you learn that, the easier this is gonna be for you.”
I believe him. By the tone of his voice, the cold expression.
He pushes the barrel harder into my forehead, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting.
Despite my best efforts to hold them back, those tears finally escape. They run down my face and drip down my neck, but I don’t look at him. I won’t.
The cold metal of the gun slides over my skin to my cheek. A footstep. The warmth of his body seeping into mine. He cups my face, using a thumb to wipe my tears. For a moment, it feels almost… tender. Lips close, his breath heating the side of my face.
He lets out a deep sigh. Then, in a far too calm voice, says, “Open your eyes.”
I shake my head and press back into the wall, trying to create some semblance of space between us.
“Grace.”
This time the harshness of his tone forces my eyes to snap open.
The gun is still pressed to my face. His hand remains cupping my chin, and his body continues barring my exit.
“Gonna need you to do something for me,” he says.
I swallow, will my voice to be steady. “And what’s that?”
“I’m done being pushed around by your family. I need shit on your brother so I can end this. You’re gonna help me do that.”
My stomach plummets. “I-I don’t know anything. I can’t help you.”
He pushes the barrel of the gun against my skin again. “You can, and you will. Need you to get cuddly with the club. Find me something good. When this is over, I’ll give you back your product instead of handing it over to Allen and his OPP fucks. Got it?”
Pulse once again racing, I suck in a shaky breath. “Axe finds out I’m slipping you information, he’ll kill me.”
A wicked smile plays at his lips. “Guess you better not get caught, then.” He backs away, then jerks his gun towards the door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
Eyes down, I scurry towards the door. Halfway there, the cold, mechanical click of a gun halts me mid-step. I peer over my shoulder, eye the barrel pointing at my head.
“One more thing,” he says. “Point a gun at me again, and it’ll be the last thing you do. Got it?”
I nod.
“No. Say it. Tell me you understand.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Good. You can go.”
I’ve barely escaped his trashed house when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
You really thought I wouldn’t find you?
Another vibration. This time a picture appears.
Of me. From earlier today as I was leaving Triss and Jack’s place.
Ice floods my veins. He’s here. Which means I’ve run out of time.
I quickly thumb out a reply.
You want your shit? Come get it, asshole.
Before I can think better of it, I drop Decker’s address in the reply box and hit send.