CHAPTER 2 — HOLDING BACK.

🦪 DORA 🦪

Our faces crash together, his mouth slamming against mine with a ferocity that steals the air from my lungs. His lips were bruising, demanding, parting mine with a growl that vibrated against my tongue. I moan into him, my tied hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders, nails digging through the fabric of his tailored suit jacket.

He tasted like whiskey and sin, his tongue sweeping in deep, claiming every inch of my mouth like he owned it. Like he owned me, and all I can think about is, “It’s finally happening, I’m finally visible.”

His free hand grips my hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks, pulling me half out of the car until my chest pressed against his, my nipples hardening painfully against the thin fabric of my dress. The hand at my throat tightens just enough to make my vision swim, my pulse hammering under his grip, my pussy clenching around nothing.

I whimpered, the sound muffled against his mouth, my body melting even as my mind screamed at the rough handling. His teeth grazed my lower lip, biting down just shy of drawing blood before his tongue soothed the sting. "Fuck, you drive me crazy," he growls, the words a dark rumble against my lips.

His thumb pressed into the hollow of my throat, feeling the frantic flutter of my swallow. "Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how badly I want to ruin you.”

His voice was a blade, sharp and lethal, and I shuddered, my thighs squeezing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache building there. His other hand slid up, palm cupping my breast through the dress, his thumb flicking over my nipple with just the right amount of pressure to make me gasp. "You like that, don’t you? Being manhandled by me." It wasn’t a question. He knew. He always knew.

My answer was a broken moan, my head falling back as his mouth trailed down my jaw, his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin of my neck. His hand left my throat just long enough to shove the strap of my dress aside, exposing my collarbone, the swell of my breast. His lips wrapped around my nipple through the fabric, biting down hard enough to make me cry out, my back arching off the seat.

The sound echoed in the empty lot, raw and needy, and he groans in response, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat straight to my core.

“You said you would hold back,” I whisper.

"Trust me, I am," he murmurs, his breath hot against my damp skin. "And it's so damn hard." His fingers tightened on my hip, nails digging in as he jerked me forward again, my ass now fully off the seat, my weight supported only by his grip.

His mouth crashed back onto mine, this kiss even more brutal than the last. His tongue fucked into my mouth with deep, punishing strokes, mimicking what I knew he wanted to do to my pussy. I could feel his cock, thick and iron-hard, pressing against my stomach through his slacks, the heat of him searing even through the layers of fabric. The hole between my tied hands went over his head, fingers fisted in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss, but he didn’t stop; if anything, it only made him more aggressive.

His teeth sank into my bottom lip, dragging it out before releasing it with a wet pop. "You’re mine, and one day," he snarled, his voice rough with lust. "I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name by the time I’m done.”

I should’ve been scared. Should’ve pushed him away, told him to slow down, to take me somewhere private where we wouldn’t get caught. But the thought of being taken like this, right here, in the open, where anyone could stumble upon us, only made me wetter.

My hips rolled against him instinctively, seeking friction, and he rewarded me with a dark chuckle, his hand sliding up to wrap around my throat again. "That’s right, child," he purred, his thumb pressing just under my jaw, forcing my head back so I am forced to look up at him. "What did you say about hating me?" His grip tightened, cutting off my air just enough to make my vision blur at the edges, my pussy clenching around nothing, so empty it hurt, and then… he pulled away, inhaling sharply.

“Help me… Daddy,” I mutter slowly, mixing my desperation for revenge and the lust pulsing in my veins.

“And what do I get?”

“Until my revenge is complete, you can have me every night…”

“Submissively,” I add.

Dale Lazarus kept mute and just kept ogling at me with eyes filled with lust and something else that looked like protection. Although I felt hurt, I thought he would jump on the offer. “Are you even thinking?” he retorts.

I shake my head frantically, “No. Honestly, I'm not. I signed a fight till death deal with Umbra; this is all I live for. Without any help, I'll be dead in the first fight. You are in it yourself, you know how bloody it is. You can have me, until death, I'll give my everything to you… Will you help me?”

“Tempting… But no.”

“Fuck me! Why?”

“Why should I help you die? I want to fuck you… not your corpse…”

“I said until my death.”

His eyes narrowed, and a subtle scowl crept across his face as the thought took hold. A spark of irritation flared to life, growing into a slow-burning fire that shimmered beneath the surface. His jaw clenched, and his fist tightened as he let the idea simmer in his mind.

“It's very disheartening that you think I can handle you dying.” He whispers, his anger intensifying just by the thought of it. His face darkened, eyes flashed with tense intensity as he tried to contain the rising tide of his emotions.

I sigh, “Then help me,” I press into his ears. “So I won't die… this is what I want, you said you love me.”

“That's why I can't help you, because of the crazy love I have for you. Dora, before you get to your father's killer, which is the final fight… You have multiple fights with heartless, soulless, ruthless, professional killers, people you should never cross. Men! With fifty or even two hundred times the strength you barely have. They fight dirty, they'll get you anywhere, slaughtering people like sea animals in the fighting ring. One of you would have to die for the other one to win, and it's most likely you.”

“I will get to him… and I will kill him,” I assured.

“How!? He's their top 1 fighter; if he was able to reach the top with such brutal fights, how terrible do you think he'll be? He has killed dozens of people, your father died in a fight with him, and your father trained restlessly while fighting for fifteen years. Even if you succeed in this fight… You can't fight him. I love your adorable resilience, but it's stupid.”

“You sound like you know him.”

“I do.” Dale Lazarus exhales sharply, “They call him The Reaper; he’s the harbinger of doom.”