Page 50 of Executing Malice (Jefferson Rejects #4)

Despite the earnest uncertainty on his face, I can’t stop the laugh that comes out of me.

“You’re...” I trail off as I loop his neck with my arms and pull him to me for a long, slow kiss. “Amazing,” I finish. “I might have to cuff you to me. I saw the way some of the women were looking at you.”

“They stand zero chance, but you should definitely cuff me to the bed and fuck me.”

Laughing, I pull away and capture his hand.

I had an image in my head of Daisy sitting alone and forgotten at the back corner, under a murky light with her jewelry unnoticed by the town .

I was not expecting to find a whole lineup of people crowded around her booth. Women, mostly, as they ooh and ahh.

“Want to stay?” Dante asks.

I shake my head, smiling at the glow of happiness on Daisy’s face.

“No, I think we can go.”

But no sooner have we started away when Daisy calls after me. I turn back to watch her sprint up, face wide and beautiful with her smile.

“Thank you!” Her arms sling around my shoulders and she squeezes hard enough to make me squeak. “People said you told them where to find me.”

Heat creeps up my neck with the prickle of annoyance. I didn’t tell people so they could tell Daisy. I wanted her to think they came to her on their own.

Stupid Jefferson.

“I’m glad it worked out,” I say instead.

Releasing me, she steps back to present me with a smooth, flat box no bigger than her palm.

“For you.”

I stare at the beautiful, satin design with the neat, little bow. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

It’s shoved into my hand. “I made it specifically for you, so you have to take it. It’s good luck.” Her green eyes sweep over my shoulder to where Dante stands. “Not that you need it.”

With a wink, she twirls on her heels and hurries back up to her enthusiastic crowd.

I turn to Dante as I peel the top off my present and gasp.

Nestled in a bed of royal blue silk is the most stunning bracelet I’ve ever seen.

A delicately crafted twist of wires looped through shiny beads and cluster of diamonds.

Between each sits a medallion with an eye, a hand, and a star.

I recognize them from jewelry I’ve seen before, but the bronze pieces with the crystals are perfect together.

“Don’t put it on.” Dante stops me when I reach to pull it free.

I blink up at him. “Why not?”

Gingerly, he puts the top back on and stuffs the box into one of his pockets.

“You might lose it.”

I don’t see how, but he might be right. The fairground is packed and there’s so much happening. I wouldn’t know if it slips off.

“Come on. We still have a whole night.”

I take his hand and let him guide us through the attractions. He stops to win me a stuffed bear the color of butterscotch and the size of a toddler. Refusing to walk around clutching the thing, I make him run it to the car.

“Oh! Candy apples. Want one?” he teases, smirking down at me.

I eye the display with a great amount of contemplation.

“No,” I sigh heavily and face him. “It’s not the same without the razorblade and biohazard.” I get a poke in the side for my cheek. “Speaking of biohazard. I want my jar back.”

“You threw it away.”

I gasp with outrage. “I did not.”

“You said it was creepy, and you didn’t want it.”

I stare up into his face. “Did you throw it away?”

“If I did?”

I stab him in the chest with my index finger. “You will make me another one.”

My hand is captured. “Make your own.”

Eyes hot coals in the murky dusk, he draws my middle finger between his lips, across the velvet heat of his tongue.

“Dante,” I croak, throat dry.

He sucks once before freeing me. “I’ll cum in whatever you want.”

I swallow audibly, trying to resist the image of him chained up in my bed, cock erect and waiting for me to milk him. I would ride him until he’s close before letting him empty ... wherever I want.

“We should—”

My attempts to keep moving, to keep from letting my brain forget where we are and jump him is halted by the hand he fists in my hair. Holding me prisoner. Holding me to him with his mouth inches over mine.

“I want your ass, Leila. And I want you to fight me like you hate me as I take it. I want my skin under your nails, my blood in your mouth...”

“Stop,” I beg, pussy throbbing with such desperate agony I have to squeeze my thighs together.

He licks my lip. Smirks when I open willingly. “I want you scared and bloody as I force you to the ground and take what’s mine.”

Fuck ... fuck!

“Come on, little whore. We still have a whole night of torture before you get your gift.”

Torture is a tame depiction of his cruelty. He is a demon sent from hell to torment me until I break. He’s a sadist setting every nerve on fire. And it doesn’t matter where we are.

Standing in line for a ride, his hands are at my waist. His cock rocking hot against the small of my back. His arms encircle my waist. His fingers brush my nipples on their way up to stroke my cheek .

At the top of the Ferris wheel, his fingers slip under my skirt, knuckles deep in my channel while we hang at the very top, over the heads of every person I know.

Grabbing food, I’m dragged into his lap, legs wide under the table, pussy open for the fingers rubbing slow, teasing circles from opening to clit and back.

But it’s only when the crowd thins, all the children gone and only the adults and random teenagers strolling through the attraction that his games escalate. Become brazen and rough.

Like dragging me between two games, forcing me to my knees and making me suck his cock while he grips a fistful of my hair. The yank of being jerked to the ground tears my knees, but I make no complaint as he uses my throat to empty down.

“Swallow, little whore,” he pants, keeping my head forced back so I struggle to follow his command.

My knees sting. Blood smears my kneecaps, but I keep it to myself as we do a round of the booths.

Most of the people from Jefferson have already packed up their goods and gone home for the night, leaving their stands dark and empty, perfect for when Dante shoves me face first against the back of one.

His big hands drag my panties to my knees.

My feet are kicked wide, stretching the fabric as he bends me over and slams his cock home.

No warning .

No preparation.

He pounds every inch home while I gasp and struggle to accommodate him, but it’s too much.

“Quiet, little whore,” he growls into my ear when I sob. He rips down the neckline of my dress, baring my breasts. “I’ll have to share you with whichever fucker finds you like this just to keep him from telling the town what a greedy whore you are.”

I know there is no way in hell he would ever share me, but the fantasy of it has me growing slick. Has my hips driving back to meet him.

I get a cruel snicker in response.

“I knew you’d like that. Getting tag teamed in the dirt like some filthy gloryhole. Cunt and ass full of some stranger’s cum.”

In reality, the idea is a hard no, but the way he’s taunting me, the cold mockery in his tone as he tells me what a filthy girl I am, has me shuddering with the first roll of approaching climax.

But Dante jerks out before I can tumble over.

His fist closes into the back of my underwear and the fabric is dragged back.

I can’t see what he’s up to, but when they’re pulled back into place, they’re soaked.

The crotch is dripping and sticky, heavy with the weight of his jizz now clinging to my naked lips. Adding to my already drenched core.

“Don’t worry,” he drawls into my ear, chest mashed against my back. His hands drift around to palm my breasts, squeezing my nipples. “We’re not done. Walk back to the car, little whore.”

Walking without giving away that there is a gallon of cum warming my panties is an experience I never thought I would have to face. But I manage to without drawing attention.

The parking lot is empty. The remaining few vehicles gleam under the faint lights of the rides. My car is halfway from the gates, within view, but nearly hidden behind two rows. I’m honestly relieved to see it knowing we are finally going home so he can finish what he started.

But boy am I wrong.

Dante grabs me by the arm and yanks me over the hood. His hands, bruising and strong, shove me up to sit on the cold metal.

“Say stop, sweetheart,” he prompts, pushing my knees wide to claim the spot with his hips. “This is where the games begin, and I will not hold back.”

I’m scared.

My heart is thundering a thousand miles per minute. My limbs are trembling, and I am so fucking wet I can’t think straight.

“No.” The word is jagged, torn from somewhere deep, dark and twisted. “Don’t stop. ”

His fingers are punishing, clamping down on my jaw, cutting the skin inside on my teeth. “That’s my good girl. Give me a safe word.”

Breathing hard, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Pumpkins.”

His features soften just a fraction before returning to their twisted state.

The kiss is brutal, violent. I taste blood. I taste him as he tears into the soft folds of my lips until there are tears in my eyes.

Face a mask of raw, animalistic hunger, Dante jerks back. The light glints over the crimson stain marring his mouth, staining his teeth as he bares them in a smirk.

My blood.

I shift against the hood, every nerve ending in my vagina on fire to feel him, to get railed so hard I see stars.

But his hands are twisted in my neckline. The fabric is torn. The sound deafening in the tinkle of music and rustle of naked branches.

“Dante!”

My yelp is met with the grip of my ruined dress and the hard shake for silence. There is no light, no life in his eyes as he wrestles me out of the tattered remains. As he snaps my underwear off and tosses both to the ground .

Naked, vulnerable, I’m shoved against the windshield with my legs thrown over his shoulders as he forces his head between them.

“Stop it!” I hiss, frantic.

Terrified of getting seen, I shove at his head. Try to twist my body away.

But he’s stronger. His hold is unforgiving as he forces me down, pins me in place.

His mouth is at my sex, tongue lapping, fingers invading.

Three all at once, no hesitation or warning.

The assault sends my back up off the hood with a wail.

The burn makes my teeth grind as anger wells up over the catacomb of emotions.

“I said stop!”

My fingers twist in his hair and I yank.

But all that seems to do is spur the monster inside him. It has him climbing up over me. The entire car rattles and shudders as he captures my wrists and slams them down on the glass. The pain is faint compared to the unexpected thrust of his cock.

I scream and he snickers as he pounds into me. Fast. Hard. Merciless in his rage to take me.

“Louder, little whore. Let everyone hear what you’re letting me do to you.”

I bare my teeth and glare up at him. “I’m not letting you.”

“Then use your safe word. ”

“No!” I snap.

His grin only deepens. “Feel that?” He slows just enough for me to feel how easily he’s moving inside me, how wet my channel is, how hungry for more.

“Little fucking liar.” His mouth clamps on my breasts.

The nipple is captured between his teeth hard enough to draw blood and another wail from me.

“Your filthy mouth says no, but your body wants this. Wants me to hurt and use it.”

He’s not wrong, but I’ll be damned if I let him believe that.

With what little leverage I can find by digging the heel of my feet into the metal, I try to buck him off, but end with him slamming deeper.

“You can’t fight me.” He bows his head to my injured nipple and licks the droplet of blood. “I will always win, and you will always wind up with my cock in your cunt.”

I hate that he’s right, but I hate it more that my body thrives in that knowledge. That it wants to submit and take everything he wants to do to me.

But my brain roars. It rages with indignation and a bone-deep refusal to submit so easily.

I buck again and get him this time when his footing slips. His hold loosens on my wrists and it’s all the opening I need to plant my palms against his chest and shove .

Again, not enough, but with his torso back, I drive the heels of my feet into his chest and kick.

He stumbles, but I’m already rolling over and off the edge .

.. straight down on broken pieces of rock.

Jagged chunks that take me to the ground, to my knees and palms that tear beneath the serrated edges.

I cry out as blood runs from the cuts almost immediately.

As it rains to the earth in tribute. But I force myself up, force myself to run.

Hobble to the driver’s side. dark, shiny wetness smears the handle as I fumble for it and yank.

Locked.

“Looking for these, Leila?”

The faint jingle of keys has me glancing back to where Dante stands, legs shoulder width apart, cock out, shiny with my essence and erect. The multitude of lights from the festival catches on each bar and my brain has to remind my body we do not want to crawl back and lick him.

Fucking guy and his perfect fucking penis.

Breathing hard, I edge away from him. From temptation. I’m aware of every retreating step with every fresh cut across my feet.

Like something from a horror movie, he lunges. It’s so sudden, so paralyzing that I scream. I turn and try to run, but he’s faster — and he has shoes. He catches me with one hand twisted in my hair, ripping out strands from their roots as he drags me to the back of the car.

I think he’s taking me around to the passenger’s side.

I am not expecting when the trunk pops open.

“What are you—?”

He shoves me in. The confined space catches me as I tumble inside. My flailing arms and legs are smacked and twisted down with me as I fight to climb out.

“Dante, no. Please, don’t!”

His face, a stone mask of pleasure, smirks. “Scream all you want, sweetheart. No one is going to hear you.”

Without another word, the lid is slammed down, and I’m plunged into absolute darkness.