Page 89 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
I close my eyes momentarily. Shutting out his words. Not wanting Zander anywhere near Ethan in my mind.
“All lies, Gertrude.” He singsongs the words in a hauntingly childlike tone that creates goose bumps all over my skin.
His free hand haphazardly hits against my lower belly. Then I hear the telltale sound of a belt buckle jingling as the end goes through the loop, the metal clasp hitting against itself.
No.
“Does he promise you things only I can give you?”
The sound of a zipper being unzipped.
My mind shutting down.
I choke on the rising bile. Knowing what comes next. Panic returns. Hatred so strong the thought of having to touch him makes me physically ill.
“I deserve a proper apology, Gertrude.”
My mind disassociating from this reality.
“No.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. Fight back my fear. Prevent the tears from welling in my eyes. Try to hold on to Getty Caster as he attempts to strip her away, layer by layer, until she becomes Gertrude Caster-Adams again.
Weak. Compliant. Fearful.
“No. Is. Not. An. Option.”
Our eyes war. His telling me now. Mine telling him to fuck off.
He yanks on my ponytail again. Trying to force me to drop to my knees like I would have done before. Take his punishment by giving him a proper apology without a fight, because a fight just made the repercussions that much worse. In my old life, giving in was the only way to survive.
But not now. Not here. Not the new me.
“Now!” His demand eats up the air in the room, but I remain standing tall, jaw clenched, hands fisted, resolve unwavering.
“No.” It’s the only thing I can say without betraying my courageous facade with the fear and panic and desperation overwhelming me internally.
Pain radiates as he tugs harder than before on my hair; I yelp automatically. But this time he steps up against me. “Yes. You remember how to do this. You’ll get on your knees. You’ll suck my dick. You’ll take it all the way to the back of your throat. You will not gag. You will not move.”
He uses my silence to his advantage. To emphasize what he expects. To draw out my fear. To unnerve me. To let me think long and hard about what I know from experience will happen next.
“It’s not my problem if you can’t breathe, Gertrude. You just proved to me you can hold your breath an awfully long time . . . so no excuses. But be warned.” He chuckles maniacally, letting me know he’s really getting off on this. “The next punishment hurts a helluva lot more than my dick blocking your thro—”
Chapter 26
ZANDER
Your head’s in la-la land, Donavan. Better get it the fuck outta there quick or you’re gonna forget a helluva lot more than just your cell phone next time.
You ask a woman what her point-of-no-return spot is and the answer is supposed to be simple. My neck. My ear. My nipples. My clit. Hell, even her G-spot if she’s blunt.
But then there’s Getty. Answering me with a sweet expression and innocent body language casual as can be . . . but her words? Fuck, they were a seduction all their own. A verbal striptease. Giving me an answer but then telling me so much more than a simple location on her body. Instead she told me how it made her feel.
Fucking feelings, man. They’ll get you into trouble every damn time.
No exceptions.
Good thing I like a little trouble.
My mood’s pretty damn great with my mind full of ideas of exactly how I want to touch her when she gets off work. The exact spots where I’ll tempt and test. The decision I’ll force her to make after I tease her mercilessly. Maybe edge her out, withhold her climax until she decides on her p
