Page 48 of Heart of Sin
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Every time you mouth off, expect something. That was me being nice. Next time I’ll twist a fucking nipple off. I’m tired of the disrespect, T.”
“There’s no disrespect. You’re acting out of paranoia. I’ve never had a scheme against you. I’ve given you almost all my money for over fifteen years—”
I clamp my mouth shut when he shoots me a dark glare. He doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t give a damn if I haven’t been plotting against him—he’s going through with this regardless.
It’s over the loss of control.
His dominance over me is threatened if I have ties to the mob. He’d rather kill me himself than risk the possibility my new, more powerful allies helping me escape him.
He’s threatened.Afraidof losing one of his favorite toys.
The same thing had happened years ago when I first moved to Vegas. Big D hated the idea, but at the time, he was close with the manager at the Dollhouse. There was more money to be made dancing and escorting here than home, so he allowed it—with many caveats.
Sending him his cut was a major part of that.
Always under the threat that if I didn’t, he’d hurt Ramon and Zara. Force Ramon into a street gang. Make Zara sell herself like I had to.
It worked. But I didn’t have anyone more powerful than him to protect me then.
Think.
Be smart. Keep calm. Play it cool.
Big D’s taken us on the freeway. We’re racing down the I-40, going thirty over the speed limit.
I inhale a soft breath and sit up straighter.
Shoulders back. Titties out. Dick-sucking lips and fuck-me eyes. All tactics that work on Big D—and most men.
“D, pull over,” I say. “Let’s talk.”
“I told you. There’s nothing more to say. You made your choices.”
I reach into his lap, a bold move, running my hand along his thick thigh. There’s only one destination where I could be going. It’s up to him to stop me.
He glances down at his lap and then over at me before remembering the road ahead.
“I’ve missed you,” I purr. “Why don’t you give me a chance to show you how much?”
Every piece of me cringes at the words coming out of my mouth—I don’t want to share the same breathing space as Big D let alone touch his thighorhis dick.
But desperate times call for equally desperate measures. What other choice do I have?
He has good memories of our times together. It’s running through his mind as my hand travels up his thigh toward his groin.
Just when it seems like I might have an in, he proves me wrong. D spins the wheel and we veer between lanes. The tires screech and a car next to us honks their horn. I slide in my seat, my knee banging into the dash.
“That’s what you get,” he says. “You think it’s that easy, T? You’re gonna give me head and all is forgiven? I already told you. That’s not how this works. Sit back and shut up.”
“D, I didn’t do anything! This is fucking stupid!”
“Last warning. Say one more word. One more word.”
I’m fuming. I’ve crossed my arms, my breaths loud pants as I bite my tongue. It takes everything I have not to fire back with what I really want to say. The last option I had left—seduce and distract D—has failed. What am I supposed to do now but lash out and mouth off?
We’ve left the city behind. We’re speeding toward the desert canyons as traffic thins around us. A fresh wave of nerves flutters inside me. Where the hell is he taking me?