USA Today bestselling author Jane Henry delivers a high-stakes, gritty story
of forbidden romance, devastation, and taboo love that knows no bounds.
She's barely legal.
Under my protection.
Fully
off-limits.
But all mine.
Ruthless is a fully
stand-alone spin-off from The Wicked Doms series.
Please note: this dark romance contains mild dubious consent, elements of violence,
and kinky, sexual scenes. If such subject matters offend you, please do not read.
I lean over and gently restrain her, pushing her wild limbs down and kneeling on one
knee beside her.
"Stop it," I order.
She looks at me then out the
window and back again, tears filling her eyes. Her eyes flash with something I can't
quite place, but soon the heated glare is unmistakable. She's pissed, and hell if that
doesn't make my cock hard just looking at her.
She's gorgeous any day.
She's stunning when she's angry.
"Mmmph."
Kneeling beside
her, with my hands at the back of her head on the gag, I instruct her. "I will remove this
gag if you promise to do exactly what I say. Do you understand me?"
She
nods wildly.
I unknot my t-shirt and pull the gag free. She rubs her mouth
and looks down, momentarily chastened while waiting for me to free her, though her
eyes quickly flash at me again before she schools her features. I quickly unbutton my
dress shirt and pull the slightly damp t-shirt back on, inhaling deeply but turning away
from her so she doesn't know how the shirt, permeated with her scent and essence,
affects me. I swallow hard, keeping my face stern and immovable.
"That
was awful," she whispers. "I hate when you're mean."
Oh, no, we are not
playing that game.
I lift her chin and bring her eyes to mine. "That wasn't
awful. What you face if you disobey me? That will be awful. We're going into the hotel,
and I insist you behave yourself. You speak to no one. You keep your eyes down. You
do exactly what I tell you. Am I clear?"
Those gorgeous, luminous eyes look
at me with hurt and anger and something deeper... something molten.
Fuck.
But she nods obediently, and I almost believe she's going to behave.
"Tell me you'll behave, Marissa."
"Fine," she says in a whisper, then
yawns widely. The girl's exhausted.
"I mean it," I warn, and I fucking do.
"I know," she says, yawning again. "I'll be good."
I'm not
convinced.
I chose the smallest, hole-in-the-wall hotel I could find, far less
likely to be on the Bratva's map. The car I borrowed is unmarked, untraceable to my
father or my brothers. My phone the same. Hers, however... I pull it out of my pocket
and frown at it, then shove it back in. I'll have to dispose of it, but it's best if she doesn't
know. She won't be too happy about that.
Walking into a place like this
without bags won't draw any attention. This hotel was built for one-night stands. I open
the door and gesture for her to go in ahead of me, earning me a heated glare.
"So now you're the gentleman," she says with an eye-roll.
"Watch the
attitude, little girl." Christ, my palm itches to spank her feisty little ass.
She
shoots me a mischievous grin.
Perhaps intimidation isn't the smartest tactic
after all, given how she's misbehaved underneath my watchful eyes for years. I decide
to try a different approach.
I've noted her wide-eyed gazes, the way she
fidgets and when I pull closer to her. If my suspicions are right... and she is at all
attracted to me in any way... I could try another angle.
I’m well versed in the
fine art of domination.
I take her by the elbow and pull her to me in the small
entryway before we enter the main lobby. Her skin is silk beneath my fingers, her
fragrance exhilarant, but I take a deep breath and fix her with a warning look. Leaning in
close, I brush her hair behind her ear, wanting to do so much more than that. To tangle
my fingers in that mass of gorgeous waves and tug her head back before I capture her
mouth with mine.
Wrong.
So fucking wrong.
I bring
my mouth to her ear, caging her in the little space. "Unless you misbehave on purpose,
Marissa? Is that what you want? Do you want me to punish you?"
The
sound she emits is like a little mouse caught in a trap, a fetching squeak that almost
makes me smile.
"Of course not," she protests, but the flush of her cheeks
and widened eyes betray her.
"Are you sure about that?" I ask, hoping to
embarrass her into silence. Gently, I run my fingers along the back of her neck, just
enough to remind her how I control this. How I control her.
Just enough to
ensure her compliance.
I shouldn't be doing this. Christ, I shouldn't be doing
this, but the way her eyelids flutter and her cheeks color, I can't stop myself. What I
wouldn't give to lay her down and make her moan until the sun sets and rises on a new
day.
"Are you sure you don't want just that?" I keep my voice suggestive
and salacious, allowing her time to think about the image I paint for her. "Me,
overpowering you?"
She shakes her head but moves closer to me and
swallows hard. She trembles, and it’s fucking beautiful.
I lean in and press
my mouth so close to her ear I feel her warmth. "Laying you over my knees for the
spanking you know you deserve?"
"Nooo," she says, but it's a moan this
time, and though she's shaking her head, she's moved even closer to me.
"Then be a good girl," I breathe in her ear.
USA Today Bestselling author Jane has been writing since her early teens,
dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her
pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge
(NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote
her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds
time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket,
and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want
to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she
likes to read.
One More Song by C.M. Seabrook
