Page 33 of Trapped

“Being with you in my space. Where it’s just us. No interruptions.”

“This isn’t what we agreed on,” I said, my voice tight. “I’m not looking for anything more than what we have. This…this is a big change.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

I gritted my teeth. “Nothing, but this sounds like dating.”

He cocked his head. “So what if it is?”

“We don’t date. I sleep with you for protection and money.”

“I’m aware of that.”

I fisted the metal ring. “So why are you giving me your keys like we’re in a relationship or something?”

“Sometimes a man wants to fuck at home. Don’t overthink it.”

No, no, no.

I collected my cash, and we went our separate ways. That was the deal. Our sex was always distant. Impersonal. We fucked in stairwells, in his office, in his car. He came over, too, but I had control over how long he stayed.

I avoided challenging him. I gave him what he wanted. It’s what made me so addictive. I was a wet dream come to life. Every time I sank to my knees, unzipped his pants, and eased his giant cock into my mouth, I knew that. I’d done everything he’d asked for without putting up a fight, but I couldn’t give him this.

Keys meant something. Trust. Commitment. I couldn’t handle that. Not after everything I’d been through. Not after what I’d learned about men and their promises. Every relationship I had with men ended with me being used or betrayed. Taking those keys felt like walking into a trap. Once I opened that door, there’d be no going back.

I plastered on a fake smile. “If you want me to come over, all you have to do is call.”

“I want you to have keys.”

I placed them on the desk, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’d appreciate it if we kept to our current arrangement. Whatever this is, I’m not into it. I hope that’s alright.”

Judging by the way his eyes blazed, it was not.

I tutted, rolling his tie around my hand. I tugged, and he came forward. My lips touched his, and tension melted from his muscles. As my tongue glided into his mouth, I reached into his jacket pocket and took out his wallet. He grabbed my wrist and pulled away.

“Trying to bankrupt me?”

I shrugged. “A woman has needs.”

He sighed, letting me go. “How much?”

I slipped out the entire wad of cash, tucking it into my purse. The brazenness of it didn’t seem to faze Santino. It never did.

He lifted a brow. “That’s five thousand dollars. What do you need that kind of money for?”

“Another Birkin bag?”

I needed every dollar to fund Retro Rose Boutique. I’d use it for the first month’s rent and to purchase inventory I had my eye on. I stepped toward the door, but his hand shot out, wrapping my arm, and hauled me backward. As I collided with his body, his arm pinned me to his chest while his other hand snaked through my hair and made a fist, bending my head back.

“You’ll take the keys and thank me for it.”

That dark voice boded no argument.

“But—”

“I make the rules.” The hand on my waist drifted too low. “You need a reminder on how to be a good girl. Should I bend you over my knee and spank your pussy?”

My knees turned into jelly. “No, I don’t need you to do that.”