The Bosses Daughter (Parts 1 and 2)

Part 1- Chapter 5

"Harley," Leo says dangerously. "Let me say this once, I am not a person you want to piss off. I do very sickening things to people and I enjoy it." He leans forward slightly. "I suggest you be very careful."

Butter my buns and call me a biscuit, I'm fucking drenched and this sexy Australian badass is threatening my life. I'll take 'I have problems' for three hundred, Alex!

I lean forward ever so slightly. "You may be the big bad wolf, but I'm not little red. You know who I am?" I lean forward more, making sure my cleavage is in sight as my hand wraps around the tiny handle of my six inch blade I have tucked under the table. "I'm the huntress who'll make a coat out of your fur."

Swiftly,  I get the knife out of its holster and run the freshly sharpened blade over Miller's distracting forearm, making a pretty little red line of blood run down his arm.

Before he has time to react, I bring the blade to my lips and gently lick it clean. Leo's eyes darken as he watches the movement of my tongue intently.

The metallic taste of his blood rests in my mouth.  I'm sure I look like a bat- shit crazy chick but that's exactly what I'm going for. 

Faster than I have time to comprehend, Leo has me up and off the couch, pinned against my little fridge.  My wrists are pinned above my head and my legs are barely just parted. His free hand is wrapped around my throat, stealing away my oxygen.

Leo's huge figure cages my petite build. A dark, dangerous, but somehow hotter than the Safari desert, look rests is place on his face. 

"Don't ever do that again." His deep voice thick with warning.  Miller keeps eye contact with me and I swear to God, you do not know the definition of 'intense' until a six foot, tattooed, Australian God is staring at you as if you were his prey.

"Or what, " I spit and instantly regret it when his smile darkens, as if saying 'I totally hoped you were going to say that'.

Miller pushes me forward and trips me, which puts me on my stomach on the table, my entire back end easy for the taking. For a split second, panic courses through my chest and I begin to jerk under Miller's grip. He leans forward and kisses my shoulder.

"Stop moving." The calmness in his voice causes my entire being to freeze, obeying his command without my consent.

Without warning, Miller's hand comes down on my ass. Hard.

I may fully clothed but damn. Just damn.

"Count," He growls dangerously.

I swear to God if he expects me to call him 'daddy' or 'sir', I will-

My thoughts get interrupted when his hand comes down once more, even harder than the first. "I will not repeat myself, Harley." He warns.

My pride may as well have been ran over by a semi truck, because when I whisper 'one', I feel my anger begin to boil.

"Two."

"Three."

"Four..." I continue to count, each number growing with rage. By the fifteenth time, Leo stops and gently rubs my soar ass.

"Good girl," he praises and I would rather cut out my own tongue than admit how turned on his comment made me.

"You will be ready by tomorrow afternoon. I will pick you, and you trashed trailer, up no later than one. Do you understand?" Miller says, his voice fierce and confident.

I'm still sprawled across my table and ashamed to no end. "Yes." I manage. Without further ado, Miller excuses himself, locking the door to the trailer from the outside as if to silently say 'I told you so'.

I listen as a bike starts up from a couple lots down,  his bike no less before slowly resting in a fetal position on my bed, which somehow managed to be spared during the hassel.

Fuck you, Leonardo Miller.

I think to myself.

Or atleast fuck me.  

I have no idea what time I feel asleep last night but when I woke up, six o'clock on the dock, the first thing I did was replay yesterday's events. Intently.

The second thing? Well, the second thing I did was throw on a pair of ripped jeans, wincing when it hurt to bend over, and a black tanktop. I grapped my yellow backpack i store under my bed and round up all three guns, twelve throwing knives, seven daggers (what can I say, knives are like my kink), three hundred dollars in cash, my only photo album and any papers that have my identy on them.

I shove everything into my bag that I'll need, grab my white jacket that has stains galore, and head out the door, all before seven; when the sun complety rises.

I don't bother grabbing my phone or keys, I left those on the counter. When the sun has fully rised, I slip my sunglasses on and walk four miles down the blazing hot road to a long forgotten garage.

I refuse to be a unlucky rabbit for a  starved wolf.