Chapter 11
No other woman had affected Ambrose Wallace as this petite redhead. He had already thrown out all the booze, but he still refused to mellow in his attitude toward her, remaining surly, as if challenging her to make the first peaceful overture. In effect, he wanted her to let him know that his rape of her, both times, now had her approval.
Amanda had no intention of sanctioning the horror he had put her through in the Rolls the previous evening. Granted, she did have feelings for him. Atone point it had been pure hate, but she realized the hate had stemmed from the fact that she had been emotional about him right from the start. Granted, it was possible to hate a man without liking or loving him, but in Ambrose Wallace's case, this just wasn't so.
Had she merely hated what he had done to her the previous night, then she would feel dislike and indifference toward him, now. But she didn't feel that. On the contrary, she felt very strongly toward him, only she wasn't sure what direction these strong emotions were taking.
Love was something that had never entered Amanda's life, and so she was unsure of what she was presently feeling, having nothing with which to compare these feelings. By the same token, she knew she did feel strongly about him.
Ambrose, on the other hand, began hating himself. He was trying to gain this woman's approval. He was well aware that what he had done to her both times was wrong. But he had handled so many different women the same way and hadn't given a damn about them, after. Why would he care about Amanda Rose?
He wanted her to like him. The only way for that to possibly happen would be if he took her back home. To do that would mean the possibility of losing her. There was also the fact that she was very probably pregnant, and a blood test could easily prove the child was his. She would drag him into court, and aside from his having to pay child-support, he might very well be charged with rape.
Ambrose was at an impasse. As a result, he became angry again. No woman had a right to make him feel this way.
Amanda was well aware of the way she was affecting him, perhaps because of the effect he had on her. She also saw the hard glitter return to his eyes. Where she had been sorry for him the first time, and afraid because of his drunkenness the second time, this time she began feeling angry. A mature man would face up to what he was feeling and try talking things out with her. But Ambrose obviously was either immature, or he lacked experience when it came to talking with women. But she knew that look, and it meant it was rape-time.
"Well, what is it to be this time, my mouth or my vagina?" she asked, anticipating him.
"You always have the answers, even before the questions are asked, don't you!" he snarled.
"There seems to be one answer to any question in this house, and it always has to do with that piece of meat hanging between your legs," she replied, testily.
"You're right," he nodded. "Satisfaction of my cock comes first and foremost. So you have a choice of either walking or being dragged."
"Where? Back to the car?"
"This time I'm going to give it to you nice and proper," he snapped. "Just so you have no complaints about where it's taking place, I'm going to fuck you in my private bedroom. But before you go getting any bright ideas, I'll tell you right now, I'm fucking you in the ass."