(Chapter name inspired by the song Give Me Her by Michl)

Adam

Last night was probably the most intimate experience I've had with a woman.

To wake up from a nightmare, on the verge of insanity, blind with fear. Then find Selena under me. Hugging me tight. The pain in her voice she felt for me. The tenderness. The ice barrier around my chest melted at her soft command. I lost my mind. I kissed her.

I kissed her and she loved it. She kissed me back with as much longing and passion, not trying to hide. It wasn't about initiating sex. That's been the reason I've kissed women all my life. Part of foreplay, no big deal. But with Selena, it was like our hearts were meeting each other. It was complete surrender. Nothing mattered and it was a blissful fucking moment to be in.

While I remember every curve on Selena's body and how good it felt to roam my hands over her, my thoughts are interrupted with a phone call.

Roxie's calling me at 8 AM?

"What's wrong?" My voice sounds like I haven't had water for eighty years.

"Nothing, what you up to?"

I scowl and check the caller ID again, making sure it's her. "Are you dying?"

"I'm afraid you're determined to do that before me." She barks out a dry laugh. "So I heard D'Amico has you by the balls. Did I not warn you about this, Adam? Did we not have this conversation?"

I roll my eyes at her unsolicited scolding. Time for coffee. "Let me worry about that. Do me a favor and look out for Leah a little longer?"

There's a long pause. "Seriously? You're seriously going to risk your life for that girl?"

"Would you relax?" I press the espresso machine, but it won't work. I press harder. Longer. Nothing. "Fuck, how does she turns this on?"

"Ew, don't tell me—"

Another call interrupts her and I check the ID, then instantly regret it.

It's my new boss.

"I gotta go, Rox." I hang up and press the answering button, but I don't greet him.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Ridiculous. "What do you want?"

"Would you please be a dear and come to my house tonight at 8? And bring Selena with you."

"Why? She can write from home."

At that moment, Selena steps out of the shower. Her black hair swept back and drenched. When our eyes meet across the living room, she stops in her tracks. My heart does a weird fluttering thing, making me clench my jaw.

"She's doing something else tonight." D'Amico breaks my focus. "I need her assistance to blackmail Jacob's Head of drug distribution."

"Not happening." I turn my back towards her and stab the button a thousand times again.

"Relax. I have a soft spot for the little writer. I think it's because she's so much like you. Sharp, soft-hearted, with unapologetic principles."

"Would you stop hitting my coffee machine?" Selena whispers behind me, catching me so off-guard that I flinch like a bitch.

I lean against the counter opposite from her. My hand grips the granite edge. I can move. Step aside. I don't need to stand literally behind her. Not when there's a tangible pull demanding I close the distance. Rip the towel off of her and take her, claim her, taste every inch.

"Earth to Adaaam..." D'Amico sings on the other line. "I better see you with her tonight or I will pay a special visit to Roxie with a couple of my friends. It would be unfortunate, if your sister was there..."

"You fucking—"

He hangs up.

My veins seethe with adrenaline, pumping through me so fast, my skin is prickling.

"Here you go, you violent caveman." She turns around, completely unaware. Her hand stays in the air with a cup of brown, foamy coffee.

"Never mind." I move over and dump myself on the couch, burying my hands through my hair. I can't put any of them in danger. Fuck, none of this would've happened if Selena didn't suggest working for him. She would've been safe.

"Dude, we can just forget about last night. Stop stressing out." Selena puts her hand on her hip, giving me an unimpressed smirk from the kitchen. "You can calm down. I'm not going to change how I behave around you and I have no expectations from you either."

"Selena, that's not important right now."

"Oh. Okay..."

She should've just let Marc die. She can't handle my world. She can barely handle a normal one. Girls like her shouldn't be involved with criminals like me and D'Amico.

"You know what, Adam. Screw it. If it meant nothing to you, to the point that you won't even look me in the face, then fuck it." She makes a beeline to her bedroom as if she can't get there fast enough. "I don't give a shit either. We've both been through stress. We live under the same roof. We're not seeing other people. It makes perfect sense why there might be an irrational, short-term attraction between—"

She slams her bedroom door before she can finish the sentence. Honestly, I'd rather have her be mad about this. It's obvious she cares about me or she likes me or whatever, but maybe she shouldn't. Not maybe. She shouldn't. I'm not good for her. I never will be.

~

D'Amico's house is tucked in a wealthy neighborhood, surrounded with pine trees. The house is a work of art. The dark walls are covered with oil paintings. They're framed in elaborate gold. D'Amico's petting a grey Persian cat next to a fireplace like a flamboyant villain.

"Are you into dark coquette?" A blonde guy with chiseled cheekbones and arched eyebrows grins at Selena. "'Cause like, I'm digging the waist-length black hair and doe eyes. I'm thinking you'll look nice as a preppy rich girl, but the secretly naughty type."

Selena stammers out an unsure reply, aware that she has no choice but to oblige. My neck and shoulders tighten into stones as she's taken out of my sight into another room.

"What's your plan?" I ask D'Amico.

"Come on, Adam. Live a little. Relax." He cuts off a cap of a Cuban cigar that must've cost three hundred dollars and offers it to me. "Interested?"

"Selena doesn't like the smell."

"Aw. You sound like you're ready to settle down. Choose the easy, normal husband life?" He lifts the cigar between his lips. Honestly looks like he's sucking a little dildo. "Is that your plan?"

I scowl at the obvious threat, arrogant warning in his tone. I'll never forget the time he paid me a visit when I was in prison. He tried to play the big brother role, promising me how we'd work together to stop fathers like ours. He was proud of me. Called me a man.

My voice has gone low, almost insecure. "I don't know."

"I'll support you if that's what you want. I'll be the fucking best man at your wedding, if you'll have me. I'll marry you to two myself."

He narrows his eyes behind the cloud of smoke, determined to catch whatever cracks through my mask. Find a weakness. Opportunity. How much ammunition he can gather against me.

"I don't give a fuck about Selena. I'm just here to finish my job."

"So you became my slave because you're her bodyguard? Come on. You're so traumatized by life, that it scares you to think of anything positive."

"I didn't know you're majoring in Psychology. Are you changing your profession into a therapist?"

"She is reeeady!" The guy from earlier struts out of the room, throwing his arms up.

She steps out in black platform high-heels.

"Those are Versace," D'Amico says proudly.

My eyes widen at her perfect legs. The delicate tattoo across her thigh, right below the mini black dress. It's strapless, pushing up her breasts. She's wearing long satin gloves and her hair is half-pinned back with a girly black bow.

Like a gothic little princess. I have no right to crave her like I do. I have no right.

The whole drive there, I'm gripping the steering wheel, forcing myself not to drive back. Get Selena out of the country for a while. Make her change her name.

"Don't leave my side there." I cast a dismissive glance at her crossed legs on the passenger side. "And I want you to use your safe word or tap your nose the moment you want to leave. The moment it gets too much. Promise me."

"Yes, sir." She stares out the window like she's bored, but her voice has a mocking undertone.

"I'm serious."

"Of course, you are."

My eyebrows knit close. What crawled up her ass?

"You good?" I keep my voice casual.

"So good."

"Okay...you don't sound good."

"Maybe you have a hearing problem."

I laugh, but it comes out like a small kick in the gut. Fine, I'll leave her alone. Probably better if we don't talk anyway. I can't afford to lose focus.

The moment we walk through the speakeasy bar, I realize this isn't a regular place. It's a private establishment where the elite fulfill their darkest fantasies, away from the public eye. At the entrance, we're given the option to label ourselves and pick a color that represents our interest. We choose to keep the label a mystery, given we don't know Rob's kinks, but both grab green wristbands which means we're open to being approached and spoken with. 

Every millionaire and billionaire with a limp cock is here. We climb the spiral staircase and enter the library room. A group is playing pool on the left, where moonlight is seeping through the window. The walls are decorated with ancient-looking bookshelves and low dim sconces.

We find empty stools by the rectangular bar in the center. Right across from it are tufted couches with half-open curtains, revealing glimpses of white-haired men with women.

I order us drinks just so we blend in, but Selena actually drinks hers. Maybe she's nervous, I'd understand. But it's not safe.

"You shouldn't drink."

I try not to stare at her chest, but she's leaning forward on her elbows, drinking out of the straw without using her hands. So it looks like...

"Hm?" She licks the moisture from her lips.

"You shouldn't drink."

She cups her ear towards me. "What?"

"Why are you being such a brat?"

"Me? A brat? I would never." She raises her hand to call the bartender over and flashes him an excited smile. "Can I get one more, please?"

I palm my face. This is about the kiss, isn't it?

"I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to hurt your—"

"You think one kiss is going to break my heart? Please. You weren't even impressive." Her crossed leg swings back and forth, exposing her nerves under all the attitude.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

She whips her startled face to me, as if that's the last thing she ever expected me to say. I find myself inching closer, like she's tied a rope around my neck that's pulling me closer.

At that moment, D'Amico's victim finally walks through the door. Rob Bamford. Married to a religious wife. Has three teenage daughter who volunteer at their local church every Sunday.

Except he likes to pour money and get young women to do dirty things for him. I don't think Jacob knows. D'Amico's plan is brutal, but brilliant. Kill two birds with one stone.

"That's uncle Rob!" Selena slaps her hand over her mouth. "I spent Thanksgiving with his family when I was in high school! Oh my God."

"I told you he's in charge of the drug distribution."

"You didn't tell me he was in charge of my dad's distribution."

"Another 1979 Macallan, please." Rob slides beside Selena. He hands a black credit card with gold lettering between two fingers, flashing a diamond Rolex. His white beard curves as he inspects Selena, like she's a shiny toy for purchase. "Are you two swingers?"

I open my mouth but Selena beats me to it.

"Oh, actually he's putting me up as a unicorn and he wants to watch." She hides her phone on her lap, which is secretly recording. "Sorry about him, he has no social skills, but he means well! I'm Sasha. What's your name, sir?"

Sir? Sir?

"Sorry, was I too forward?" Selena giggles behind her hand while Rob blinks like he's malfunctioning to process. "I tend to open too fast, I'm sorry. I'll just shut up." She squeezes her arms together self-consciously, drawing his widening eyes at her breasts.

If I grip my whiskey any harder, the glass might shatter in my palm. Then I can use it to gauge his eyes out and shred all the skin off his face.

"I love straight-forward girls." Rob kisses the top of her satin-covered hand as he sits beside her.

"I love straight-forward men." She uncrosses to switch legs. Her thighs part for a moment, sending a direct jolt to my cock. "Are you straight-forward, Edward?"

"Absolutely."

"Yeah? Do you take what you want?" She flits her devil gaze back and forth between us, as if taunting me, provoking me to step in.

"All the time! I make sure to spoil my women with anything their heart desires, including fulfilling all their naughty little fantasies."

"Oh, how dirty to you get?"

"As dirty as you want me to, baby girl. As dirty as you wish."

The sucker is eating straight out of her palm. This was too easy. We got what we need, now—

"Wow, uncle Rob. What does your wife think about that?" Selena tilts her head and my jaw drops on the floor. "Can't you tell that I'm Jacob's daughter, you sick fuck? Ew! Gross! I recorded everything, you mother fucker!"

I'm ready to haul her ass out of here. But something black and heavy thuds on the floor when I pull. It falls out of her dress and lands between her legs. It's not a vibrator this time.

It's a fucking gun. A gun.

Rob curses, causing people around us to notice. A woman screams like she's about to be murdered. More people yell to call the police and everyone races to evacuate the building.

Having scoped out the exit signs in advance, I take Selena in the opposite direction away from the panicking crowd. We exit through the back of the building next to the trash cans. Thankfully, I've parked in a discreet corner away from valet.

"How the fuck do you have a gun?" My voice rips in the car as I speed us back to her apartment, checking every second in the rearview mirror if we're being chased.

"D'Amico gave it to me, he said I might need—"

"Need what? Shoot someone? What did I say last time you tried to carry a knife with you, huh?"

"Um..." She squirms. "Something about if I were yours, you'd make sure I never do it again? That was about a knife though, not a gun."

"What? That's not what I'm talking about."

"Okay, but nothing happened—"

"You could've shot yourself!" I park behind her apartment building and slam the door shut.

"You told me to get blackmail material, I got blackmail material!" She clicks her heels quickly after me, struggling to keep up. I don't answer. Not outside where the neighbors can hear. She keeps yapping until I unlock her apartment door behind us. "You didn't tell me how to get it. How many times do we have to go over this? Besides, I only lost control of the gun, because you pushed me. If you didn't go caveman style on—"

That's it. I wrap my hand around her throat and push her against the wall, taking her lips. I'm not nice. I'm not gentle. I squeeze the sides of her neck until she lets out an ashamed moan. Fuck. Someone likes me being rough. She pushes her chest against me, returning the same hunger and urgency.

I leave open-mouth kisses down her soft neck, biting and licking, sucking her flesh in. She gasps like it's too much, pushes my chest away. But that's exactly what I love. I've been wondering if she'd be into the same things as me. She's dropped hints. Being hurt, restrained, humiliated. I know she also likes to be praised. But I wonder how far she'd let me go.

I spread my fingers on the back of her head and yank back a fistful, forcing her to look at me. "You know what you need, princess? You need to be taught a lesson." My other hand slips under her dress, finds her damp, lace panties. I push them to one side, stroking my middle finger over her soaking, slippery slit. My cock strains in my pants, begging for her. "Mm, fuck. Look how wet you are, sweetheart." I push a finger into her tight pussy, making Selena cry out.

I slow down, my voice becoming sober. "Do you promise to use your safe word?"

She blinks at me in surprise, before melting into a lustful haze and eagerly nodding her head.

"Let me hear it. I have to make sure. Do you want this, Selena?"

"Sure." Mischief glows back in her eyes within seconds. "As long as you don't hit like a bitch."

A/N
Ya'll I rewrote this chapter so many times, I want to rip my hair out...

If you liked it, please vote! And next time you see yourself in the mirror, turn around and smack that booty.