Page 72
Story: Devious Madness
He tilts his head slightly at my question, his eyes wandering over my face. It’s this quiet interrogation that sets my nerves on fire.
“Why would it be your fault? For once, you did what I said, and you stayed put.”
“I don’t know. You didn’t try to go after Marco on your own, did you?”
“No. Marco’s being dealt with in other ways for now. I went to turn the iPad over to the person looking for it.” He brushes a lock of hair from my forehead.
“The guy you got the iPad for shot you?” It’s my turn to be confused.
“No. He was dead when I got there. Whoever killed him shot at me.”
“Oh.” I nod as though it makes perfect sense, all this shooting and killing. “Did you kill him?”
His expression darkens. “No. He got away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry I didn’t kill him?”
“I’m sorry you got shot at.” I shake my head, trying to clear away all the fog this man puts in there with his touch.
“So, you don’t want me dead. That’s a good start.” He rests his hands on my hips, playing with the hem of my shirt.
“A good start to what?”
“Us.”
I roll my eyes. “Rurik, there isn’t an us. There can’t be an us.”
“Okay.” He lifts his good shoulder in a shrug.
“You agree?”
He laughs. “No, but I’m not in the mood to fight you tonight.”
He slides his hands up my shirt, over my stomach to my breasts. I tense, but he’s gentle in his touch, cupping them and fondling my nipples.
“We shouldn’t…” I try to get off his lap, but then he pinches my nipples through my bra, keeping me trapped in place.
“Why not?”
I wince. “Because it gives you the wrong impression.”
“I already know we’re going to be together. You’re the one who refuses to admit it.” He releases my nipples, which should relieve the pain, but it intensifies it as the blood rushes back in place.
“I thought you didn’t want to fight tonight.”
He pushes my shirt up and pulls it over my head, dropping it to the floor besides his bloodied clothes.
“We’re not going to fight. You’re going to be a good girl and do exactly as I say.”
I laugh.
“Oh? I will?”
“You will.” He reaches behind my back with one hand and expertly opens the latch on my bra.
“Why do you think that?”
“Why would it be your fault? For once, you did what I said, and you stayed put.”
“I don’t know. You didn’t try to go after Marco on your own, did you?”
“No. Marco’s being dealt with in other ways for now. I went to turn the iPad over to the person looking for it.” He brushes a lock of hair from my forehead.
“The guy you got the iPad for shot you?” It’s my turn to be confused.
“No. He was dead when I got there. Whoever killed him shot at me.”
“Oh.” I nod as though it makes perfect sense, all this shooting and killing. “Did you kill him?”
His expression darkens. “No. He got away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry I didn’t kill him?”
“I’m sorry you got shot at.” I shake my head, trying to clear away all the fog this man puts in there with his touch.
“So, you don’t want me dead. That’s a good start.” He rests his hands on my hips, playing with the hem of my shirt.
“A good start to what?”
“Us.”
I roll my eyes. “Rurik, there isn’t an us. There can’t be an us.”
“Okay.” He lifts his good shoulder in a shrug.
“You agree?”
He laughs. “No, but I’m not in the mood to fight you tonight.”
He slides his hands up my shirt, over my stomach to my breasts. I tense, but he’s gentle in his touch, cupping them and fondling my nipples.
“We shouldn’t…” I try to get off his lap, but then he pinches my nipples through my bra, keeping me trapped in place.
“Why not?”
I wince. “Because it gives you the wrong impression.”
“I already know we’re going to be together. You’re the one who refuses to admit it.” He releases my nipples, which should relieve the pain, but it intensifies it as the blood rushes back in place.
“I thought you didn’t want to fight tonight.”
He pushes my shirt up and pulls it over my head, dropping it to the floor besides his bloodied clothes.
“We’re not going to fight. You’re going to be a good girl and do exactly as I say.”
I laugh.
“Oh? I will?”
“You will.” He reaches behind my back with one hand and expertly opens the latch on my bra.
“Why do you think that?”
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