“I can do this. I can,” said Gypsy. Twenty-four hours until she would have Grace back in her arms, and the time on the dash of the car seemed stuck. What if someone was playing with her, though? That voice on the other end of the phone sounded so familiar, yet she couldn’t fathom anyone doing this to her that she knew. Not unless Frank hired some whore to destroy her. That was the only logical answer to this sick and twisted puzzle.
From the back seat of the car, a voice shook her to the core. When she left her house, she checked the entire car. There was no one back there. How in the hell did she hear a voice? Every emotion rush through her body, paralyzing Gypsy with fear. Did she wait this long to get Grace back only to lose her to a mental breakdown?
“Pull into that parking garage, drive to the top level, and turn off the car the moment you find a spot secluded from others,” he said.
Her hands shook as she drove, pulling into the multi-layer garage. The place was empty, but Gypsy did as instructed and drove to the abandoned top-level, parking the farthest away from the entrance. Fear coursed through her veins, but that voice, she knew that voice as well as she knew her own. The last time she heard his voice, she sat in the safe room while he berated her for being scared. His compassion level was zilch for the young girl. There was a coldness inside of him that she never knew was possible.
Sitting with her eyes diverted to the floorboard, she didn’t look up until one single strand of her hair was pulled. Just one. He knotted his index finger around the strand, yanking her head back.
“Stop, I can’t stand that shit. Pull them all, not just one,” Gypsy said.
His finger laced another, yanking it from her scalp as he leaned in to growl into her ear, “Did you fucking forget whose speaking to you? I’m not one of your bitch boys who worships the ground you walk on!”
Her eyes brought to the rearview mirror, Gypsy was mesmerized by the eyes. She had never seen them before. The color of the ocean, she was lost in his dazzling pools. For a brief second, her heart ceased to beat, but was it from fear, or paralyzing lust?
“No. I don’t have time for this now. I have things to do, and none of them concern you,” Gypsy whispered. Her words falling on deaf ears, he could care less if she ever saw her daughter again. The brat was not the reason for his sudden appearance. It was time she learned that there was not a place in the world she was safe from him. Just as he told her before, he would always know where she was. That statement hit her so profoundly that she couldn’t erase it from her memory.
Laughing with the roar of a lion calling to his pride, there was something about the way she watched his eyes that transfixed him, almost into a hypnotic need for this female. Why though? She was nothing special. Attractive, yes, but had the common sense of a housefly. Not at all what he would choose for himself, but there was something about the way she cried out each time he demanded more of her body that always brought his thoughts back to the girl. It was infuriating how his body betrayed him with need. This common whore was not even worthy of someone like him, but still, he wanted to mark every inch of that flawless flesh as though it was his personal canvas.
“Lean back, pull that skirt up, and take the panties off,” he said.
Her face drew a blank, shocked that he would even ask such a thing while she was in the car. How perverted did he think she was? “No, I can’t,
she whispered her words of denial. While she said no, her nipples hardened, her body heated with warmth. Lust was an emotion that was bad for a woman like her. As a woman who sold her body, she desperately tried to not enjoy the sexual act but failed when it came to him. Whatever he used to lure her in, it was more potent of a hold than any other man had ever possessed. Even her ex-husband never made her feel completely helpless.
His finger twisted in a full lock of her hair, yanking her head back into the headrest. Holding her tight, his actions were as powerful as his words. “I never asked you if you could do it? I told you to do it now, or suffer the consequences or your denial,” he growled.
Powerless to his demands, without any further protest, she removed her panties, handing them to the man in the back seat. He, in turn, wrapped them tight over her eyes, blinding her momentarily. “Can you smell it? Your cunt is wet, and the aroma pungent with need, isn’t it?” he asked, but didn’t need her to respond.
Panting, her mouth as dry as cotton, she nodded in response. She was saturating the seat, and he hadn’t even touched her. “Fuck you,” she grunted. Her tongue flamed with venomous anger towards the male. If she was free to enjoy him, she would tarnish his flesh in the most undesirable ways. “I said, fuck you,” she repeated.
Once again, the back of the car shook with laughter, he was amused at her anger. Eyes darting around the car, it was the rosary beads that hung from the rearview mirror that caught his eye. Did he know where she received them? The day she sat in the church begging for the life of her child and a stranger offering all she could in exchange for her sins? No, but then again, he didn’t care. Yanking them down, the mirror bending with force, this was the moment he would teach her exactly who owned who. Rolling them around in his hand, all he felt was complete and utter disgust.
“Are you sure you want to disobey me?” he asked.
“Fuck you,” her words strengthened with a venomous fury.
“Very well,” he said.
With arms outstretched to wrap around the driver’s seat, his slender fingers parted her cunt, pushing that rosary as deep as he could into her filthy little core. Growling when he found his fingers bathing in a pool of her sins. He was by no means holy, but this little bitch was getting off on something that was usually found to be sacred to most.
“You fucking whore,” he whispered into her ear. With his fingers removed, he massaged over her clit, knowing every inch of him wanted to jackhammer those beads into the pit of her stomach. Not yet, though. She would have to beg him to remove them and give her the relief she sought.
“Oh fuck, please,” she screamed, her voice echoed in the car.
“Please what?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement. “Let you cum?” he asked as he twisted his finger around the small bundle of throbbing nerves.
Still blinded to her surroundings, she nodded her head, “Please!”
A deep sign exuded as his hand withdrew from her, “No, but if you attempt to remove what’s inside of you, ever orifice on your body will spill the blood that courses through your body. Remember my words, I know every move you make.”
She grabbed the steering wheel to control the shaking in her body as the rear door opened, and the car lightened. He was gone as quick as he came, but inside of her he left her with a want that had never been there before. Slowly removing the panties, she turned, noticing the only thing he left was the strands of blonde hair he yanked from her head. Each of them laid across the seat as a reminder of the damage he could inflict.
She didn’t need to look around the car to know what was inside of her. The small cross the hung on the end felt as though it was branding her core.
“Fuck you,” she screamed.
“Please fuck me,” was the words that followed. “please.”