Finally.

It’s taken years of preparation and planning. Laying the groundwork. But I’ve finally got that bastard Calvin Badiary right where I want him.

And now it’s time to take my revenge. Time to ruin his precious daughter. To use her and debase her in all the ways I’ve dreamt of, ever since the night I met her in that alley and realized what an asset she would be. How she could serve me to take my revenge.

All I have to do is remember why I’m here. Why I’m doing all of this. Why I need to use this girl.

“Strip,” I tell her, my voice heavy with the command. I expect her to try to resist. Maybe throw something at me again, the way she kept doing in the limo. That, or I figure she will get scared now. She’ll finally realize the dire straits she’s in and cry, beg for mercy.

What I do not expect is for Pamona to lift her chin and meet my gaze. I can tell she’s quivering—she’s not that good an actress. But she keeps her mouth in a narrow, hard line, and meets my eyes, and refuses to back down, even with all the fear that must be coursing through her.

Then she grabs the bottom of her dress and pulls it over her head in one smooth motion.

When she drops it on the floor beside her, still glaring at me, I can’t help it. I flash back to that night, years ago. To seeing her bare skin in that alley, her flat stomach on display, her shoulders naked, her ass tight and pert in those skintight jeans. She was perfect, she was sexy, she was completely naïve and ignorant of what she was doing walking down that street in the dead of night… And I had her right where I wanted her. I could have taken her then.

I wanted to.

But I made myself wait. I told myself I would do it better. Make sure her father knew who took her and why. Now that she’s here, standing in front of me, naked except for her thin, lacy white bra and a pair of flimsy cotton panties, glaring me down like she doesn’t have a single fear in the world, all I remember is how much I wanted her that night in the alley. Not for the sake of humiliating her father, but for the sake of having her. Running my hands over every inch of her smooth, perfect skin.

Bending her over, pulling off her clothes, claiming every inch of her as mine. I’ve spent years picturing the way it would feel to make her scream my name, to make her desperate for my touch, my cock, my cum.

And it will happen. She will beg for it.

There’s a reason I rescued her from those men all those years ago. It’s because I had plans for her, even then.

Plans that I tell myself are entirely about revenge. Plans to use her.

I tell myself that because deep down part of me is worried about how much I want this woman.

“Bra next,” I tell her, circling her slowly.

She doesn’t hesitate. Keeps her eyes on mine as she reaches back to unclasp it. She lets it fall down her arms, and I take in the smooth cups of her perfect C tits. Her nipples are pert, already hardening pink nubs in the chilly air of this room. I want to feel those tits in my hands. Want to squeeze them in my palms, hear her gasp. I want to tease those nipples, roll them between my thumb and forefinger until she can’t stand it anymore, and then I want to pinch so hard she screams.

Instead, I keep walking around her slowly, enjoying the wait. Goosebumps rise on her arms, her naked torso, and she’s shivering slightly, though I can tell she’s trying to hide it from me.

As if I can’t tell. As if I can’t read everything she’s thinking. She’s an open book, Pamona Badiary, and I enjoy a good slow read of her.

“Now your panties,” I say.

She hesitates.

“Pamona,” I add, putting a heavy warning into my voice.

She hooks a thumb under her panties. Pauses again, her chest heaving. I’m standing behind her now, close enough to touch, though I don’t. Not yet.

“Don’t be shy,” I add, smirking. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

At that, anger seems to flare in her. She shoves the panties down to her knees. Steps out of them, angry even in her obedience. “You’re a monster,” she spits.

I laugh, softly. “It’s easier if you hate me, I know.”

Her ass is facing me, bare and firm and exactly how I pictured it when I first saw her sashaying down the sidewalk years ago. The perfect ass for grabbing onto while I fuck her, bent over this sofa.

My cock, already hard from the limo ride here, from the way she felt pressed against me in the car, jumps against my jeans. I can’t remember the last time I felt this turned on. But I am patient. I have waited long enough for this. I can wait as long as I need to now.

“I know my father has his faults,” she says, and I circle back around to meet her eye.

The view from the front is every inch as maddening as her backside. Her smooth, flat stomach leads down to a clean-shaven mound, and beneath, her tight pussy lips, half-hidden by her thighs, which she keeps squeezed closed. “But you’re worse.”

“You wouldn’t know the half of it,” I respond, shaking my head.

“Wouldn’t I?” She lifts her chin, glaring straight into my eyes. “Getting even with my father by raping me is pure evil.”

I step closer and cup her chin in my hand. Hold her there, our eyes locked, as I breathe in her scent. Fuck. She smells as good as she looks, and I’ll bet she tastes even better. It’s making me dizzy and horny as hell—I want to shove her down and take her, right here, right now.

But no. I have more control than that.

“Pamona,” I say, drawing her name out so that I’m sure I have her attention. “I am not going to rape you.”

Her anger breaks, just for a second, and a flash of confusion crosses her face instead.

“I would never take you against your will,” I add. The confusion spreads. But I notice, underneath that, the way her eyes dilate, and her lips part, breathing faster. I steal a glance at her chest, notice her still-hard nipples, and the way her chest heaves faster the longer I keep my hand on her chin.

Is she attracted to me the way I am to her? If I had to guess… If I didn’t know better…

I scowl and lean in until my cheek brushes hers, her skin so, so soft against mine. “I am going to use you,” I whisper. “I am going to take revenge on your father with you. But it won’t be by raping you.”

“But…” Her voice tremors. Trails off into quiet.

I smile against her cheek, my lips barely skimming her earlobe, as I murmur, “I am going to turn Daddy’s sweet little virgin into a dirty, naughty little cum slut. I am going to wait until you beg me to fuck you, Pamona.”

Her breath hitches, hoarse in her throat.

My smile widens. “By the end of this month, I promise you, you will be addicted to my cock.”

Then I release her chin and step back, only half a step, enjoying the confusion warring with anger on her face. But under that, there’s a deep flush, a bright red blush she can’t hide.

“I won’t… I’d never…” But she’s stammering too hard to even get her denial out.

I laugh softly and trail my fingers up her arms again. Savoring the feel of her, so soft and smooth and delicate. So breakable. So takeable.

“Never?” I repeat, my breath hot on her neck as I lean over her. I can feel her trembling beneath my fingers as I curl one hand around the back of her neck, cupping her gently, holding her in place.

“N-no,” she manages to stammer in response.

I grin. “How can you be so sure?” I let my hand trail down her back, tracing the ridges of her spine one at a time. “You don’t know what sex can do to a person.” I reach the small of her back, and tighten my grip, pulling her body against mine. Crushed against me, I can feel her small nipples harden, pressing through the fabric of my shirt. “Let alone sex with me,” I add in a whisper.

She swallows hard, stiffens against me. Trying to resist me. But she’s in over her head here. I know all the ways I can drive her wild, and I intend to use every last one.

I turn to brush my lips along her jawline, feathering kisses along her face until I reach the sensitive spot just below her ear, where her neck meets her jaw. Then I nip her lightly and grin as she gasps and startles against me.

“Admit it, Pamona. You’re already getting wet for me, aren’t you?”

“You’re a bastard,” she whispers.

But that’s not a no. I slide my hand back up her naked back, up her neck, until I reach her hair. I bury my hand in her long curls, then tighten my grip into a fist, and pull her back, just far enough so I can look down into her wide, nervous green eyes. “I am going to use your virgin pussy,” I tell her, enjoying the way those eyes go wider, the pupils dilating, her lips parting, half in fear and half in desire. “I am going to wreck you, through and through. And then, right when you are finally and completely addicted to me, when you are fully mine… That’s when I am going to leave you.”

She blinks, frowning a little in confusion.

“That is,” I add, “Unless you go on a live webcast. You’ll proclaim to the whole world what a whore you are. That you are my filthy little slut. And then—only then, once you have humiliated your father and debased your family name, will I consider fucking you again.”

There’s a crack and a sudden sting in my cheek.

Both of us blink for a moment, startled. Then I realize she’s got her arm between us and my cheek is burning in the shape of her palm.

She slapped me.

I grab her wrist without thinking, hot red fury flaring behind my eyes. I shove her onto the nearest couch and pin her, looming over her as I glare down at this girl. This little innocent virgin who I am going to tame and ruin.

“I am never going to beg for you,” she says, jaw set with anger. “So you can stop holding your breath right now.”

“We’ll see about that.” I run my hand down her side, tracing her curves. The slope of her breast, her waist, the flat plane of her stomach. I pause at her hips, digging in my nails just enough that she’ll feel it. Her soft gasp tells me she does. I smile and let go of her hips, run my hands over the smooth plane of her thighs instead, then slide beneath her to trace her ass. Oh, how I want to take her. I want to grip that ass and fuck her senseless.

But not yet. Not yet, not yet, not yet…

I’m savoring this.

The feel of her trembling beneath me. The way she keeps her legs clenched tight together, because I know—I can smell that she’s already getting wet for me. It oozes from her pores, sweat and sex and desire.

“Nobody has ever touched you like this, have they, Pamona?” I murmur, nuzzling against her neck.

Her breath hitches. “What do you care?” she says, but it’s weak. Unconvincing.

“It’s your first time. I want to make sure that you’re enjoying yourself. That you realize, if you let go of control, how much more pleasurable this can be.” I trail my fingers over her thighs, trace the place where she’s squeezing them together. Run my fingers all the way up, almost to her pussy. Just before I reach it, I spread my fingers, so they graze either side of her mound, barely touching.

She gasps again, and jerks against the couch. Trying to avoid doing what she wants. Which is to thrust against me. Lean into my touch.

I smirk and kiss her neck again, slower this time. My tongue traces the edge of her neck, the sharp line of her carotid artery, the muscles that remain tense beneath my mouth. I kiss and tongue my way to the crook of her neck, then graze my teeth across her skin. She groans this time, a long, drawn-out gasp through clenched teeth. Against her will, I know, she’s starting to enjoy this.

I kiss her collarbone, her clavicle, the little hollow at the base of her neck. I flick my tongue into that hollow, taste the salty sweet flavor of her sweat, the scent and taste that’s all her. At the same time, I flatten my palm across her stomach, cupping her navel under my palm, memorizing her body slowly, methodically.

Her belly trembles beneath my hand, clenching and unclenching, heaving with deep breaths as she struggles to control herself. But she can’t. Because her body belongs to me now. Her pleasure is mine, her desire is mine, and she is not going to escape my needs this easily.

I will make this innocent little virgin my personal slut in no time.

I am hard as a rock, feeling her growing desire with her bare body pressed against mine. I lie down across her, flat, so she can feel every inch of me. She inhales sharply when my hard cock presses against her upper thigh, the layers of fabric between us suddenly frustrating.

I lick and suck my way lower, along her chest, and when I reach her breasts, I feel her lift her hands and bury them in my hair. At first I think she’s going to try and pull me away, but instead, she tugs me against her, closer, and I part my lips to suck her nipple into my mouth, the blade of my tongue curling along her hard nipple. She moans, and her body arches, her hips thrusting up into me. I steal a glance at her face, enjoying the expression, torn between pleasure and frustration, anger at herself for feeling this way, hatred of me for putting her in this position.

But she thrusts against me anyway, grinds her pussy against my leg, her hip rubbing against my swollen, aching cock, and she fists her hands in my hair, glaring at me even as she gives in to the want.

I can feel her wet pussy against me, smell her hot desire, and I swear, my cock is so rock hard it might break through my jeans. I inhale sharply, pin her to the couch suddenly, red-hot lust flaring behind my eyes.

I need her. Now.

But before I can reach down and undo my jeans, I force myself to shove off the couch, back to my feet.

Pamona is gasping, legs spread, eyes glistening with unfulfilled lust. Her face is bright red, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Her hands fly to cover her face. Between her legs, I catch a glimpse of the couch, soaked beneath her, and I have to turn around, hands balled into fists, nails digging into my palms to drag myself back to my senses.

Christ.

I almost fucked her right here and now.

This is not the way it’s supposed to work. I am supposed to be the one driving her wild, not the other way around.

I can hear her behind me, sitting up, still panting with want, and I can’t even turn around to enjoy the naked desire on her face, or savor the way she must feel right now, conflicted and furious with lust and anger. I can’t enjoy it because I have to tame my own fucking lust.

This is insane.

You are Farrow Lochlan, I tell myself. She is Calvin Badiary’s daughter. You are in control here.

I planned this for so long. Worked through every detail. I am in control.

So why does she make me so wild with want? Why do I want to turn around right now and pin her to that couch again, finish what we started?

“Farrow,” she says, her voice trembling, though whether it’s with anger or something else, I can’t tell.

My chest clenches. It’s the first time she’s said my name. It sounds too good in her mouth, in that pampered, posh accent of hers.

I cross the room without replying and wrench open the door. Slam it behind me, snapping this connection shut.