5| Nerves and Negotiations

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There had been a number of things during my lifetime that had terrified me, but in this moment Freddie King outrivalled them all.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I came to terms with the stupid things I'd just done. I had pointed a gun at Freddie King—Freddie King the notorious gangster and murderer, and not only that I had kissed him as a ploy to do it. He didn't kiss like other men, his lips had felt heavy and hungry against mine, a desperation seeping from his mouth for something much more than physical intimacy. He had made me forget who I was for a moment, drowning me in his breathing like kissing me was his only justification for life.

And what had I done instead of appreciating a nice little moment—I had positioned the end of his gun against his dick. I should have gone along with the game he was playing, instead the magnetic force I felt between us was a dangerous game of push and pull.

Logic would state that kissing him was infinitely better than him killing me, and yet every atom in my body wanted to defy him.

I barely made it a couple of steps away from him before I heard the click of his gun, my body responding on instinct as I held my breath and stopped moving.

I had only ever seen a gun being used on tv—and I'd never thought I'd be on the receiving end of one that was ready to fire, otherwise I would have paid more attention.

There was no use for regret now as I felt the panic fill my body, I had already known I was a dead woman standing since the day I had met him, and there was nothing inherently special about me that would be able to stop him from doing what he was supposed to do.

Freddie was angry and now he was going to show me just how far his anger could go.

"I think I need to teach you a lesson, Lola." The way he had said my name felt like he was reprimanding me as I felt him move behind me, his shadow flitting under the streetlights as he closed the distance between us once again. "You shouldn't point a gun at someone if you aren't willing to pull the trigger." His tone held a disappointment that I didn't understand, almost as if he was angry that I hadn't gone through with what he thought I had intended, but my intention had never been to shoot him, it had been to get him as far away from me as possible—and it had backfired.

My heart was beating harshly as I felt the ghost of every torturously slow movement he made and I gritted my teeth when he finally touched me.

I felt the blunt metal hit the middle of my back, the gun dragging against the material of my shirt and digging into my skin. His other hand moved to slowly trickle up my arm as he leaned further into me, his warm breath fanning the side of my neck. His hand moved purposely down my body until it rested on my waist, pausing for a moment and testing the tension in my body before his hand pushed under my shirt and rested on my bare stomach. When he had sufficiently caught me off guard, his palm splayed further until he was spinning me around to face him.

The gun that had been digging into my back was now pressed between my breasts, his arms holding me to him as I whimpered pathetically.

"Are you going to cry now?" He mocked me, and to my dismay, the tears began to fall.

Freddie King was a heartless man who liked to play games and I was his brand new toy. I would be his favourite plaything until he broke me and there was nothing I could do about, nothing that I could—

He frowned down at the tears soaking my cheeks and pulled away from me like they were physically hurting him.

I didn't move as I watched him safely tuck his gun back into his belt before he moved back to the wall he had trapped me against not long ago and leaned against it. I stared at him not knowing if I should stay or leave, but in the light of the streetlamps I couldn't help but admire him—not all of him was as terrifyingly threatening as I had made myself believe.

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