Page 18 of Depraved Lust (Valetti Crime Family #5)

But instead, his brows furrow and he looks back at the screen, reading over the posts in my group. After a moment he breaks the silence. “I wonder what your group would suggest, kitten,” he says, taking a seat next to me. His arm wraps around my waist. Like this is normal, like we’re a couple.

“Ask them this.” It’s a command.

I click the box and prepare to type in a question.

My heart beats chaotically in my chest as he tells me what to write.

“What would you do if you woke up in a basement and a man gave you two choices: die, or be his?” I type in his words and hover over the submit button.

It’s fucking insane that he’s having me ask them.

But it’s also a common thing I do. I pose a question by picking a scenario from a common trope to engage them. I already know what most will answer.

I hit enter, and it doesn’t take long for them to start commenting. They love these questions, and frankly, so do I. But not this one. Because this is real.

“Well, your friends have some good ideas as to what you should be doing.” I consider pointing out the comment from a reader about gouging his eyes out, but I don’t.

I read down the list of responses. Nearly forty comments already. Most say the same thing.

Be his!

I choose the second option!

Well, if he’s hot--that’s a no brainer!

All their responses seem so natural online.

They're meant for humour, and to be cheeky replies. A week ago, I would have said the same. But it’s not real .

You wouldn’t really do that. It’s not that easy.

I want to yell at Anthony. I’m pissed that he would do that shit to me, that he would make me feel like I’m the one holding back.

“Given that the choice is to die or to be his, it’s clearly a given.” I read the words flatly. It’s one of the comments, but also the truth. I keep my voice even and my eyes on the screen.

I can feel Anthony’s eyes on me, and I regret opening my mouth at all. I can’t look at him, so I stare at the screen. The comments continue coming in.

Agree to be his...duh! lol

Well I wouldn’t make it easy for him…

Agree! It could be hot as hell ;)

I close the laptop and try to swallow the lump growing in my throat.

I can’t read them. I hate the ease at which the replies come in.

Normally I love them. I love my group of readers and authors.

But right now, I can’t stand how easy they make giving in sound.

Anthony pulls the laptop from me and cradles me in his lap.

“I just wanted you to see why it was easy to pick you.” His voice is gentle, and it vibrates up his chest. I lean deeper into him. “You’re primed to enjoy this because deep down you know how good this can be.”

I shake my head against his broad shoulders. Those are fantasies.

He grips my chin in his hand and leans into me. Our lips are closer than they have ever been before. “Real life and fantasy can blur, kitten. This can be whatever you want it to be.”

My heart aches in my chest. Be his. How easy it seems to give in.

And I do. A piece of my armour cracks enough that I lean into his embrace and brush my lips against his.

He doesn’t kiss back, not at first. And it kills something deep down inside of me.

Before I can pull away, his hands grip my hips, and he pushes me down onto the bed and kisses me with passion.

His erection rubs against my clit, and he rocks against me as our tongues meet, and our kiss turns into something more.

I feel my walls falling down around me. It would be so easy to give in to him.

To live something, I’ve only ever thought would be a dream.

Just as the word touches my tongue, please , he pulls back and stands, leaving me panting and lost in lust. I slowly push myself into a sitting position as he climbs off the bed and gives me a heated glare. I know he wants me. I would have begged him though.

I close my eyes and turn back to my computer. A moment of silence passes. I fucking would have begged him. I was going to do it. What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me?

“Time’s up, kitten,” he says, reaching for the laptop.

“I need to work.” I speak without thinking. His eyes narrow and I reword my plea. “I’m really far behind.

Please, Anthony.” I sound so pathetic and weak. I hate it. I’m so fucking weak.

“You can download the books and write your articles without going online,” he answers, and he’s partly right, but he’s fucking wrong, too.

I have to be available. That’s why I’m so successful.

I respond immediately. If they need something done, I get it done that fucking second.

Yesterday took a toll on my work already.

I’m going to have to bust ass to get it back up.

And his internet is so god damned slow that everything is taking longer than it should.

“You don’t understand, I have to be available,” I say.

“You want to be able to go online without being monitored?” he asks.

I nod my head even as I realize how ridiculous my request is. But he said he’d give me my life back. And this is my life. It’s my passion.

“Alright, kitten,” he says as though it’s perfectly normal. As though there’s no harm whatsoever in allowing me to do this without him here. I remember the ping from his earlier text. But that had to have been a coincidence.

Hope rises in my chest. Maybe I can get the fuck out of here after all.

I don’t need him fucking with my emotions and manipulating me into fucking begging him like he just did.

He hands me back the computer and I take it as gently as possible to hide my intentions.

I’m going to escape. I just need to figure out how.