Chapter 103 - ONE HUNDRED AND THREE

Chapter 103: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND THREE

ANGEL

"You won’t pull that trigger, Angel."

"No?" I smirked, tilting my head, letting my finger caress the trigger. "You sound awfully sure for a man with a bullet aimed at his brain."

"No." Vincenzo’s lips curved, his gaze unflinching. "Because you love what this body does to you too much to put a hole in it."

I laughed at that, daddy knows me too well, still I wanted to tease him for being so right. "Maybe I’d rather have you dead than have another woman ever touch you again." I cocked my head, letting the gun drift down an inch. "Maybe I’d put a bullet right here..." I aimed at his chest.

"...so no one else could ever have your heart. Then one here..." I lowered the gun further down. "...so no one else could ever have your cock. Then I’d crawl into your coffin with you and let them bury us together. Wouldn’t that be romantic, Daddy?"

His expression didn’t change. But I saw it—the way his chest expanded on a breath he couldn’t quite control. His jaw ticked.

I was getting to him. He never liked it when the crazy in me bled through.

"You’re testing my patience." His voice dropped, stern now. Daddy’s warning voice. "Give me the gun."

"Am I testing it, Daddy?" I pouted, pressing the barrel forward until it kissed his forehead, metal meeting skin. "I want to see what you look like when you’re scared."

"I’m not scared."

"No? You should be." I flashed him a gummy smile. "I’m the one with all the power,"

Before I could take another breath—or even register the blur of movement—he struck.

His hand closed around the barrel and wrenched it sideways so fast I felt the tendons in my wrist scream. The gun vanished from my grip, and then I was spinning, my back slamming against the concrete wall hard enough to punch every wisp of air from my lungs.

"What the hell was that?" His forearm crushed against my chest. Pinning me flat against the wall. The gun was in his other hand now, like it had never been a threat at all.

His face was inches from mine. His breath hot against my lips.

"I wasn’t going to shoot you, Daddy." I squirmed under his gaze, "You know I wouldn’t! I was just playing. I just wanted to see..."

He didn’t answer. His hand came down on my ass. Hard.

I yelped at the sharp crack of palm against flesh, the shock vibrating through my whole body like a bell being struck.

"Bad girl." His voice was a rasp against my ear. "Naughty. Fucking. Girl."

I whimpered, heat igniting across my skin, pain and pleasure tangling together into something that made my knees buckle.

He spanked me again. Harder. My dress was thin enough that I felt every line of his palm, the sting sinking deep into my muscle.

"What did Daddy tell you about behaving?"

"I’m sorry!" The words came out breathy, desperate. "I’m sorry, Daddy, I was just playing, I didn’t mean..."

"Playing." Another spank, harder still. I cried out, my back arching against the wall, my hips pressing forward into nothing. "You call putting a gun to Daddy’s head playing?"

His hand left my ass and wrapped around my throat instead.

"Would you prefer I play like this instead?" My eyes dropped to the gun in his hand, then back at him as I leaned forward.

My lips brushed against the muzzle of the gun, while our gazes remained locked.

"So hot," I whispered against the barrel, letting my breath fog the dark surface. "Just like Daddy’s cock."

His grip tightened on my throat, firm enough to make my pulse skip and my vision sparkle.

I completely ignored the heated warning in his eyes and let my tongue slide out. A slow drag across the metal. The taste hit immediately—gunpowder, iron, something chemical that made my nose wrinkle.

"Too bad it doesn’t taste the same." I looked up at him through my lashes, "Your cock tastes so much better, Daddy. Sweeter. Can I suck that instead? Please? I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you."

His nostrils flared, his eyes so dark they looked like pits into something hellish.

"Fuck. Fuck, Angel. The things you do to me. The things you make me want to do to you."

"Then do them." I pressed forward against his hand, letting him feel my pulse racing under his palm. "Do all of them. I can take it. I want to take it. I want you to ruin me, Daddy."

His hand left my throat and closed around my upper arm instead, then he was walking.

His stride was so long and fast that I was practically running to keep up. We walked past men in suits and guns who were watching their boss haul his daughter past them with a grip and a pace that said don’t ask, don’t speak, and don’t fucking look.

The car was already waiting when we burst outside.

He spoke two words to the driver, then he was climbing in after me, the door slamming so hard the whole frame shuddered.

The partition began to rise.

His mouth was on my throat before it finished closing. Not kissing—consuming. Teeth dragging across the sensitive skin below my ear, then biting down hard enough that I felt the bruise forming in real time. I gasped, my hands flying to his shoulders, my fingers twisting into the expensive wool of his jacket.

"You put a gun to my head." He growled it against my pulse, the words vibrating through my blood.

"I already told you I wouldn’t have... "

His hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head back, "Shh, baby girl. Here’s what’s going to happen." His lips brushed the shell of my ear. "You’re going to be very, very quiet. Not a sound. Not a whimper. Not a moan. Because if the driver hears you—if a single fucking sound escapes that smart little mouth—I won’t let you come. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until I decide you’ve suffered enough. Understand?"

I nodded, my breath catching.

"Good girl."

His hands shoved my dress up around my waist. I expected—I thought I knew what was coming. His fingers hooked into my underwear and tore, the sound of fabric echoing in the quiet car.

I spread my thighs for him. Ready. Aching. Desperate.

But his hand didn’t go where I expected.

His fingers gathered the slick arousal between my legs. I was dripping, embarrassingly wet—and then moved lower. Behind.

My whole body went rigid.

"Daddy?"

"What did I say?" His words were a whip crack. "Not. A. Sound."