Dalton glared at Macy furiously as she waited for a reply. He couldn’t understand why she was suddenly so sure of herself again. Hadn’t he roughed her up enough so she’d cower in fear of him? She was definitely not like most girls.
At the same time with his anger, Dalton was fascinated. He’d never met a girl able to resist him like Macy was capable of and frankly, it made him nervous. Almost as if she could beat him at his own game.
While they stared each other down, he was speculating over what to do next. He knew if he let her go now, she’d feel like she won and that was the last thing he wanted. But he also had another side of feelings going on. He felt some … guilt … only the slightest bit though about seeing the damage he’d caused this girl in a matter of days. Guilty about seeing the bruises on her body and seeing the way she cringed away from him. Always. But then there was a very strange side to Dalton. Though he felt guilty about it, he enjoyed it all: her pain was his pleasure. Undeniably a guilty pleasure.
“You can go,” he finally said slowly, admitting defeat.
“So I’ve won?” she asked with raised eyebrows and Dalton growled. She wanted him to say it out loud but it was taking all of his strength not to charge across the room and hit the girl he wanted so badly …
Not that she hadn’t hurt him. No, she hadn’t. She’d damaged beyond repair this lone manwh*re’s heart in a few simple days. And now, he wanted her so badly that he suffered by watching her despise him so much. In a twisted way, they were torturing each other.
Dalton gazed at Macy broodingly as she waited a few more moments for his response before beginning to open the door. Once close to completely open, he forced it from Macy’s hand slamming it shut. She spun around; terror visibly read on her face.
“No,” was all he said quietly. “You didn’t win.” And then he pinned her against the door and proceeded to do to her what he’d thought of last night, while taking part in another guilty pleasure of his.
Macy begged and pleaded with him to stop; she had thought stupidly that she won. But no. And as she struggled to get free, Dalton ignored her voice altogether, except for when tiny noises sounded from her lips. When he was done, he stepped back, satisfied as she glared at him with tears in her eyes. Oh how he wished to wipe away those tears … though he was the cause of them.
There wasn’t one witty thing that came to Dalton’s mind as he opened the front door for Macy. His mind couldn’t focus enough on what was happening now. It remained still stuck back at several minutes ago, when he’d taken control. Maybe she was like the others, Dalton told himself.
But he knew it wasn’t true. Nothing he had assumed about Macy applied to her. She was the exact opposite of what he’d imagined, but he knew for sure that she was what he wanted.