My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 3 by Marita A. Hansen Read Free Book Online Page A

he didn’t have a knife to my throat, and he had
nothing but his arms wrapped around me. He pushed my legs apart and
lowered a hand, his cock prodding at my opening a second
later.
    I yanked my head to the side and
yelled “No!” as he plunged inside of me.
    He went still, his body jerking. “What?”
he gasped, looking pained.
    “ Get out of me!”
    He blinked, looking surprised, then pulled
out, muttering, “Stupid woman.”
    I shoved him. “I’m not stupid, you are,
you sex-mad freak!”
    “ I thought you wanted it,” he
said, pushing to his feet, “and you called me your man when you
saved me from the Padre .”
    “ I did no such
thing ! I
don’t want you, and never will.”
    His jaw clenched. “You’re a liar. You
were wet for me.”
    “ A physical reaction.” I waved
my hand at his body. “You are beautiful, but your personality is
uglier than your brother’s face.”
    His eyes
flashed .
“How dare you?!”
    “ I dare all I please, you
chauvinistic ass!”
    “ I saved your
life!”
    “ Only f or a few minutes. And I saved you
from being raped after you raped me!”
    “ You raped me
too!”
    “ I did not!” I yelled, pushing
off the bed.
    “ You fucked me with your
fingers, you dirty bitch. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. I
saw your eyes; saw how much you loved taking me, having control
over me.” Sneering, he ran a hand over his chest, abs, and cock,
cupping his balls. “You want me, we both know it; so you use any
excuse to touch my body.”
    “ Shut up!”
    “ Or what? You’ll knock me out so
you can tie me up for your pleasure.” He smiled, his expression
mean. “What did you do to me while I was unconscious? Did you rub
your body against mine, did you run your hands over my ass like you
did when you sucked my cock? ” he said, opening his mouth, imitating what I had
done for him.
    My hand whipped out, slapping him
again.
    He ran a hand over where I’d
hit him, then smiled wider. “I bet you want to slap my ass too, to feel my
flesh under your palm.”
    “ You’re full of yourself.
A nd the next
time that fake priest comes in here I won’t interfere.”
    His smile dropped, then
he turned
away from me and walked to the door.
    I followed him. “Fingers up your ass, a
priest trying to rape you, your household taken. What’s next? You
at the priest’s feet, sucking him off like I was forced to suck
you?”
    His back tensed, his muscles pulling
tight. I wanted him to snap, to lose his temper, to make him so
angry that he would attack me, which meant I could hurt him without
remorse, because if he threw the first punch, the last would be
mine.
    I stopped behind him and ran a fingernail
up his back, making him jerk away from me. He crossed his arms over
his chest and headed for another corner off the room, not saying a
word, my taunts over the priest obviously hitting a raw nerve. I
followed him, running a hand over his ass. “You have a lovely ass,
just ripe for the priest to plow.”
    He turned around, his eyes flashing at me.
“Stop being vulgar.”
    I smiled, happy with his
reaction. “From a don to a puttano ,” I said, emphasizing the Italian word for a male
whore.
    His jaw clenched. “Says the FBI puttana. ”
    I grabbed his crotch, making
him hit my hand away. “You have big balls, but no brain allowing your
house to be taken so easily. Pathetic.”
    “ Is this a
sla nging
match? You insult me then I insult you back.”
    “ I have plenty of your
shortcomings to use against you, whereas you have very little to
use against me, which is why you haven’t replied with
much.”
    A smile spread across his face, not
something I wanted to see: I wanted anger, not
amusement.
    “ What’s so funny?” I asked.
    “ You want me to hit
you.”
    I frowned. “No.”
    “ S ì , you
do, which is why you’re taunting me, so you can have an excuse to
hit me back.” He opened his arms wide. “Hit me, FBI bitch, I give
you free rein to touch me to your heart’s