Page 44 of Gold Mine (The Diamond Trilogy 2)
“Do you think he’ll come back soon?” she asks without turning her head, and I realize that she thinks I’m Adam. She can probably sense my presence, but she assumes I’m him.
I don’t answer, because I want to prolong the time it takes her to discover me. She won’t be pleased to see me. That’s the irony. That I wanted to punish Adam but really I just made him a hero. I’m the villain in her story.
“When he does, I think we should accept the water and medicine,” she says. “I shouldn’t have refused like that, not when you need it more than I do.”
And still I say nothing.
Her voice comes softer this time, more reflective. “Do you think he would let you go if I promised to do what he said? That way you could see a doctor. Do you think he’d make that trade?”
“It’s a good idea,” I say. “I wish I’d thought of it.”
She scrambles up in the bed and backs up to the wall. “Elijah.”
“That’s me.”
“What are you doing here? Where’s Adam?”
A pang in my chest. “Do you miss him? You seem pretty worried about him.”
“He’s been shot. By you.”
“Well, don’t worry about him anymore, sweetheart. He’s free of this hellhole. There’s only you and me. And you didn’t even make a promise to obey me. That means you’re free to fight when I fuck you, pretend like you don’t want what I’m giving you.”
“How dare you.”
“I know you like it better when you fight.”
She could have withdrawn when I taunted her. She could have started crying. There would have been nothing left for me to do but take her back to her pretty little loft in her pretty little building. She could have brunch with mimosas and avocado toast. Yeah, I studied her staid life. The life that she thinks suits her.
Instead she lifts her chin. “Whatever I may have liked, that was in the past. Before you freaking abducted me. Off the street.”
“Would you prefer I abduct you from the terrace of the restaurant with your editor and agent looking on? Or maybe you’d like it better if I’d stolen into your loft at night, if I’d appeared in your bed with a ski mask and masking tape for your wrists?”
She tries to look furious. She really fucking tries. But the way her cheeks darken is clear to me from a few feet away. The way her eyes brighten with lust makes my cock hard.
There’s no hiding from me.
I stand and dust my hands off. This will be fun. “How about this? You can pretend you’re disgusted with me when I make you come so hard you see God. You can scream and cry and faint when I lick your pretty little pussy.”
“I won’t like it. I won’t.”
I notice that she doesn’t deny it’s going to happen. She knows that we’re going to fuck. Her body’s already preparing itself for me. Her pussy would be wet if I touched it.
She glances at the door to the cell. It’s open an inch.
“Don’t,” I warn her. “Remember what I told you in Italy. Running only makes me chase you. It only makes me pin you down and fuck even harder as punishment.”
She broadcasts her decision seconds before she actually bolts for the door. I could catch her right away, but I let her scramble to the door. It’s more fun to press her against the iron bars. More fun to push my body against her so she can feel my erection.
She goes still at the feel. “That was before.”
“Before I took you captive? Make no mistake, sweetheart. You were mine from the moment your pretty little ass landed in that French church.”
“No,” she whispers.
Carefully, very carefully, I lift her hair away. And I place a soft kiss at the back of her neck. Then I use teeth, scraping against the same place that I kissed. Gentleness and force. I’ll always be a mixture of the two where she’s concerned. “Yes.”
She bucks her hips, trying to push me off. All it does is send friction through my cock.
I push back, grinding hard enough to make her whimper.
The gentleness part of the night is over. There’s only force now. I reach around through the bars and feel her breasts pressed against iron. The contrast of soft and hard makes me groan. “You’re so pretty,” I murmur. “But I like you better in the dark.”
There’s only the two of us in the dark. The world fades away.
“I’m going to cross the line. Again and again,” I murmur against her hair. “You have to be the one to stop me. You have to make me stop, understand?”
“What if I can’t?”
“You have to draw the line. I need you to do that.” I’m forcing her, and I’m begging at the same time. I need her to draw the line because lord knows I can’t draw it myself.
