Ruthless Desire

POV: First Person.

"You little tramp! How dare you steal my…!"

The drunk blonde woman lunged at me like a feral cat. Her manicured claws extended, aiming viciously for my eyes. Shrieking vile, piercing insults that echoed off the rich wood-paneled walls of the massive office, she closed the distance between us in a chaotic blur. I threw my arms up over my head to protect my face, stumbling backward awkwardly on my broken heels. My heart lodged in my throat as I braced for the inevitable pain of her strike.

Before her sharp nails could even graze my skin, the massive man intervened with terrifying speed. He stepped right between us, establishing himself as an immovable mountain of raw muscle. His gravelly voice dropped to a terrifying register that could cut through solid ice.

"Veronica, I told you it was over. Now get the f*ck out."

Desperate and unhinged by the cold rejection, Veronica lost whatever shred of sanity she possessed. She began tearing in a panic at the delicate neckline of her flimsy gown, ripping the expensive fabric apart to expose her chest. She humiliated herself, falling hard to her knees on the thick, plush carpet. She crawled toward him like a beggar. Her trembling hands reached upward, fumbling in sheer desperation at the heavy leather belt resting at his waist. Her long, manicured fingers scratched at the metal buckle in a pathetic, clumsy attempt to undress him right in front of me.

Appalled and rooted to the spot, I watched the sickening display in stunned silence. The man pushed her clutching hands away with raw revulsion. He glared down at her as if she were a rotting corpse, his jaw ticking with barely suppressed rage.

"Get this f*cking drunk piece of sh*t out of my office!"

The burly guards waiting outside rushed in. They gripped the sobbing, drunk woman tight under her arms. Ignoring her hysterical wailing, they hauled her roughly to her feet and dragged her out into the luxury corridor.

He grabbed the edge of the heavy mahogany door and slammed it shut behind them. He turned the metal deadbolt with a loud, final click that echoed like a prison cell sealing shut. His broad shoulders heaved with residual anger, making the strong, thick muscles ripple under his half-open dress shirt.

A primal, suffocating fear rose hot and thick in my throat. I was trapped in a locked room with a lethal underground boss. Yet, battling that very real terror was an inexplicable, heavy wave of dark attraction. I was a naive, die-hard romantic who dreamed of finding a gentle lover. I wanted a sweet, traditional marriage with soft kisses and safety. I never wanted to be locked in a soundproof room with this terrifying, scarred man who was easily fifteen years my senior.

Yet, despite being morally repulsed by his aggressive, caveman tactics, my own treacherous body betrayed my logical mind. The sheer force of his dark presence struck a chord deep inside me. An undeniable, heavy wetness pooled between my thighs just looking at his raw masculinity. The muscles of my stomach clenched tight. My panties grew soaked with a slick, shameful arousal that made my face burn hot with embarrassment.

I clutched the torn edges of my red dress tightly against my chest, my voice barely a squeak in the vast room.

"Ca…Can I go? I am sorry."

He ignored my plea. He turned slowly, stalking his way toward the crystal liquor bar situated in the far corner of the expansive room. His dress shirt was now fully unbuttoned down to his waist, hanging loose from his broad shoulders. He grabbed a crystal decanter, poured a heavy glass of amber whiskey, and downed the burning liquid in one fluid gulp.

My wide eyes lingered on his torso. He possessed a flat, hard abdomen lined with rigid muscle and a dark, hirsute chest that radiated raw power. I swallowed hard before my gaze snapped up to meet his speculative, predatory grey gaze. The intense, evaluating look he gave me made me step back. A nervous heat gathered hot and heavy between my legs, intensifying the wetness at my core. I shrank back under the crushing weight of his stare, my voice trembling.

"Please…"

He let out a low, vibrating growl from deep within his broad chest. He set the empty glass down on the counter and began stalking toward me with the lethal grace of a black panther, his voice a hoarse rumble that scraped against my nerve endings.

"Please what, little girl?"

As I babbled my request to leave his club again, tripping over my own panicked words, he stopped dead in his tracks. His massive fists clenched tight at his sides. The air in the room grew unbearably thick, pressing down on my lungs as he glared down at me.

"How old are you, little sl*t?"

My tongue darted out to moisten my dry lips. It was a nervous movement that seemed to hypnotize his gaze, drawing his pale eyes down to my mouth. Terrified that he was a ruthless club owner who was going to physically punish me for being underage in his illegal establishment, my brain short-circuited. Panic seized my throat, choking off any rational thought I had left. I blurted out the first numbers that came to my mind.

"Eight...I mean Twenty."

Aunt Gwen had always told me I was a terrible, transparent liar. My flushed face gave me away in a heartbeat.

He prowled ever closer. The overhead light caught his badly healed broken nose and his scarred, pitted face, giving him an aura of brutal, commanding dominance. Unsettled but drawn to his dangerous gravity like a fragile moth to an open flame, I backed up slowly, step by step, until my spine hit the cold, hard wall. I was overwhelmed by the sheer, suffocating breadth of his bull-like shoulders boxing me in. I had nowhere left to run.

He smiled—a sinister, humorless stretching of his lips. He slammed his large, calloused hand against the wall right beside my head. The violent impact made me jump out of my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, gasping softly in shock.

His hot, heavy, whiskey-laden breath fanned across my trembling face, sending immediate shivers trailing down my neck. He snarled softly against my skin.

"I do not like liars, little girl."

Trembling with a dangerous, intoxicating mix of pure terror and a sharp, forbidden sexual excitement, my body reacted without my permission. The intense stimulation made my nipples peak into hard, aching diamonds against the lace of my ruined dress. I cracked under the suffocating pressure of his presence, the truth spilling from my mouth in a rush of breathless panic.

"I…I’m so sorry… I am eighteen years…"

The exact moment the number left my lips, his reaction was instantaneous. He abruptly flung his massive body away from me as if I had physically burned him. He put ten feet between us in the blink of an eye. He paced across the expanse of the room, spitting a slew of harsh, vulgar oaths that bounced off the walls. The terrifying explosion of rage left me shivering against the wallpaper, wide-eyed in absolute shock.

*Hail Mary,* I thought to myself feverishly, my heart hammering violently against my ribs—*what would happen to me now...?*