Page 58 of Pretty Pink Poison

“I’m not promising you shit,” I choked out.

He yanked me closer to him. “Then I’ll keep you locked in here forever,” he said through clenched teeth. “You think I wouldn’t mind a fucking pet?” he said and thrust his cock up near my pussy.

Instead of clawing at his tatted wrist to get him away from me, I was gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. I was already soaking his trousers as I ground into him. “I won’t hurt myself ifyoupromise to deliver the pain, Bane. You know that. Give me what I want and then I’ll give you what you want.”

His forehead fell to mine and his hand loosened its grip. “How about I give you your real birthday present tonight and let you deliver the punishment to someone else for once?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me show you.”

CHAPTER 19

BIANCA

Bane got me a soft,loose dress to change into, but I got to pair it with my black combat boots now. Bane wasted no time after that. Within an hour, a dark SUV idled at the back of the facility and a private jet waited on the tarmac for us.

When I boarded, he had me sit right next to him. Not across the aisle. Not at a distance. His palm rested on my thigh, not possessive exactly, but heavy, like a new reminder he was there. He scrolled through his phone, thumb moving over the screen with methodical swipes, every so often glancing at me like he was afraid I might leap up, lash out, or slip away again.

“Quit looking at me like that,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the clouds outside.

“I look at everyone any way I want,” he replied back. His response was the Bane I knew him to be. Pointed and confident in everything he did.

Unapologetic too.

But then he closed his eyes for a moment, like he wanted to recalibrate, his jaw working once, twice, three times. When he opened them again, they’d softened just a fraction. “What look don’t you like?”

I lifted a brow. This was new. “Are youlisteningto me?”

“I’m trying.” He said it like it cost him his whole damn soul. His fingers flexed against my thigh, then went still.

“You’re looking at me like you’re scared I’m going to do something to you again,” I said, clicking my tongue and then looking at the wound on his thigh. “Your leg doesn’t really hurt that bad that you’re afraid of me now, does it?”

He tried to glare but then a reluctant smile of his formed. He brushed his fingers over the marred part of his slacks, where the pen had gone in. “I don’t worry about you hurting me. If you stab me again, Pink, it’ll just get me rock hard. You know I like the pain as much as you”—his voice dropped lower, rougher—“but I do care about you hurting yourself.”

A soft huff escaped me. “You care that I hurt myself, but you hurt me every day. You locked me up in that penthouse and wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Not this again,” he grumbled, shifting his weight like a restless animal.

“Well, I hated it. And the last week in that literal dollhouse asylum was a bit much.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep you healthy.”

“Yeah, not working.” I leaned past him to see the city lights as the plane tilted. “You’re taking me home?”

“Maybe.”

I swallowed. Did I even want to see my family? Did I care? “What for?”

“For whatever you want.”

“There’s nothing left there that means anything to me.”

He hummed low in his chest. “Then maybe I need to go there for something.”

My frown deepened. “Want to tell me what? Pretty sure my parents aren’t expecting us.”

“They haven’t been living there for the past six months,” Bane said flatly.