The Devil's Plaything - Page 61

I don’t understand why he wanted to bring me here. He told me he felt everything I did. That he wanted me and nothing else. But now I’m here, bound to a filthy bed, at the mercy of a man who knows no compassion.

A buzzer sounds in the room, and Rodrigo turns to the glass in the corner of the room, which overlooks my bed, then he sneers, “I’ll be back.” The moment he releases my hair, I can’t help but sigh in relief. My body aches, but the real agony comes from my chest.

The heavy steel door shuts, and I find myself alone in the cold. The lights dim, and I’m bathed in darkness once more. Turning my head, I attempt to look around the only section of the room that’s visible from my position, and I see it—the red light of a camera.

They’re watching.

Closing my eyes, I picture Victor. I try to pray again, but I can’t find the words. I’m going to die here, I know it. The door slides open again, and the yellow glow of the overhead lamp shimmers to life.

“Your little puta is beautiful, Cordero,” Rodrigo speaks, causing my eyes to snap open, and I notice he’s on his cellphone. He’s grinning down at me, the maniacal expression on his face is evidence that he’s enjoying this. He loves hurting people, I should’ve second guessed myself when I took his money.

“Please, Victor!”

“Shut it, bitch,” the man spits out, before his hand comes down hard on my face earning him an ear-splitting scream. My body is shaking from both fear and pain, and my heart rhythm is completely out of whack. “She’s going to break,” Rodrigo tells Victor, and soon enough, he’s laughing darkly. “Before I leave, I want to know you will not come after me. Since you gave her up so easily, I want something more, fifty million in coke. Once I have the drugs, I’ll get the flight out, with your puta.”

I don’t know what Victor is telling him, but it can’t be good because Rodrigo is glaring down at me with pure venom dripping from his expression. The curl of his mouth is taunting as he looks at me, but I can’t tell what he’s going to do. I don’t know if Victor would give up everything he’s inherited from his father.

“Forty-eight hours,” my captor informs him. “Midday, the land between your compound and the ocean. I like watching the water while I slice stupid whores limb from limb. Perhaps I’ll see how much your puta can take tonight before she finally breathes her final breath.” He chuckles before hanging up.

The darkness that swirls around me in the next moment makes me retch. Normally, if I’ve eaten and had enough water, I don’t feel dizzy, but I don’t know how long I’ve been here. And I have no way of telling if I will make it till tomorrow.

“Wake up, bitch,” Rodrigo’s voice sounds far away, and even though I try to open my eyes, I find the lids heavy. “I said, wake the fuck up,” his words are spat against my cheek, and I feel every pronunciation in my ear as I force myself to look at him.

His dark gaze locks on mine, and the desire that dances inside it makes my stomach roll as the bile quickly rises to my mouth. It burns my tongue, and I can’t swallow it back down. A harsh swat lands on my ass when he notices the puke that’s now coating my face.

I think he’ll move me away, but he doesn’t. He merely unbuttons his jeans, and then I hear the zipper hissing as he takes out his hardness. The slick tip paints my dirty lips, and soon enough, he’s forcing himself down my throat. I can’t fight him. My body is slack, I don’t have the energy to bite down on him.

His hips move back and forth with the force of a hundred men. The feel of him sliding down my throat makes more puke rise up, and soon enough, it’s spilling free coating his cock. He laughs when this happens, and his one hand is, once again, fisting my hair, pulling my head back, and slamming me against his groin.

The coarse hair brushes against my nose, over and over again, and soon enough, he’s spilling his putrid tasting seed on my tongue. He pulls away from me, crouching to my level, and his eyes bore into mine.

“I thought you didn’t fuck used cunts?” I bite out the vile words as puke rises to my mouth. I taste the bitter acid, and I swallow it back down. The knowledge that I’m going to die tomorrow ensures that I no longer fear the man who just hurt me, stole from me, took what wasn’t his to take.

Tags: Dani Rene Erotic
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