Free His Captive, The Unabridged Collection: Billionaire Dark Romance by Meg Watson Page B

wasn’t sure I actually felt.
    “I’m not telling you shit, motherfucker!”
    His eyes widened. The grip on my cheeks tightened painfully, boring through the old bruises and grinding in fresh ones. Then he seemed to let up. He smiled a little bit. His tongue poked out, swiping at his cracked lower lip.
    “You know what,” he sneered, hovering just inches from me, “I don’t need you to tell me yet. You can drag it out as long as you want. And yeah, do that. Please . I got all the time in the world.”
    I felt something lift off my hips, and his bony fingers knuckled against my pubic bone.
    And I screamed.
    Filling my lungs as much as I could, I put my head back and howled a burning, screeching wail until my throat felt like bloody ribbons. Then I inhaled again and…
    Crack!
    The back of his hand punched hard across my cheekbone. I saw it coming too late to turn, almost fascinated. I had never been hit before, not like that. It felt strange, and definitely real after everything that had felt so unreal.
    It felt sort of... good . Clear. Unmuddied.
    “Shut up!” he growled between his teeth. His fingers plunged between my legs and I threw my head back again, screaming out something that frightened even me. It sounded so raw and tortured that…
    CRACK!
    Another backhand across the cheek. I knew it was coming that time, practically leaned into it. I turned my head back to him slowly. The pain brightened the whole room, bringing him and me both into terrible, precise focus.
    His arm hovered in the air, curled and taut.
    “ You shut the fuck up! ” he growled. I could see something in his eyes, some teetering on the edge of control. Some hunger. Some fear, maybe. He didn’t want me screaming, but I didn’t know how much damage he was willing to do to ensure my silence.
    I breathed in and out through my nose, hearing the hoarse rattle in my throat. He backed away a half step and stared at me, his fists lowering to his hips now, trembling with restraint.
    “Fucking bitch!”
    “I want to see Rafe,” I said, slow and loud.
    “Fuck you! You ain’t seeing nobody.”
    “I. Want. To. See. Rafe .”
    For a second he glared at me, then suddenly he scoffed and cocked his head to the side.
    “Oh I see,” he said, sneering, his voice a cruel sing-song. “You think Rafe is gonna save you, right. This is just all some big misunderstanding.”
    I said nothing. He nodded like he knew anyway.
    “You think that’s how this will go down?” he mocked. “You think he’s gonna just apologize and drop you off at the Ritz?”
    Breathing calmly, I glared at him until he flinched and looked away, a hand unconsciously reaching up to twist at the curdled-looking skin under his jaw.
    “Yeah, well, he ain’t even here.”
    My expression must have flickered with disappointment. I could see the triumph in his eyes as he crossed his arms.
    “Yeah that’s right. You’re all mine . He said I could do whatever I wanted to you... And that’s a lot. Hey what’s your real name anyway?”
    I squinted, my lips pressed tight together.
    He took a fast, frustrated step toward me, twisting a nipple painfully between his fingers and coming down close to my face. I felt his thick tongue thrust into my ear, leaving it covered in wetness.
    “What’s your real name, you fucking bitch?”
    “Jolie!” I answered, then immediately cursed my weakness.
    Don’t tell him anything!
    “Pfft.” He stood back up again, walking behind my head to another part of the room we were in. I heard his footsteps receding on something that sounded like tile, maybe stone.
    “You know Jolie means ‘pretty?’ In French?” he drawled as he walked back to me. I said nothing but when he dove toward my ear again I nodded stubbornly.
    “Which is like some kind of joke, right?” he hissed, so close the words all ran together. Then he backed up and pivoted around the end of the table, arms on either side of my shoulders, hovering above me like a lover.
    I just