Her Perfect Gift by Theodora Taylor

had in this world. “Give. It. Back.”
    “No,” he said, fending her off easily. He caught both her wrists in his hands. And gave her a gentle shove backwards.
    “Give it back!” This time she screamed the words. “And then get out of my apartment, you psycho!!”
    She tried snatching the key from him again, but once more, he simply caught her wrists and sent her stumbling backwards as if she were little more than a pesky child.
    “Get out of my apartment!” she screamed, tears of frustration and fury gathering in her eyes. “You have no right to be here, or to take my things! You have no idea what I’ve been through to get the things I keep in my security deposit box!”
    “No, I don’t know what you’ve been through,” he said in an infuriatingly calm voice. “Why don’t you tell me?”
    “Because I don’t want to! They’re my secrets. Mine! And that is my key. Give it back!”
    He inclined his chin at her, his eyes seeming to go even more dead, as if she were a bug he were studying. “No.”
    This time she didn’t go for the key. Her hands went straight for his face in a very deliberate attempt to scratch his eyes out. But her fingers barely grazed his cheeks before her wrists were once again bound in his iron grip.
    However, this time he didn’t push her away. “Calm down,” he said.
    Which only infuriated her more. She pulled and tugged, trying to get her wrists free, but the more she tried, the stronger his grip became, until her arms were aching and her spirit was wrung dry.
    She started crying. Not regular tears of frustration, but the kind of ugly tears that signaled a nervous breakdown. She was so tired of fighting for everything. Staying hidden, staying alive, making enough money, keeping her distance from Suro. And now Tony was gone. And she had no idea how she would get the key back. And her father. Her poor father…she remembered the tired smile he’d given her before she and Darla had left that morning long ago, the last smile he’d given her.
    And she sobbed, her heart coming undone as if he had died all over again. For whatever reason, this gained her freedom. Suro let go of her hands, and her arms fell to her sides like worn strings as she continued to cry.
    Then to her surprise, Suro’s arms came around her, wrapping her up in an embrace so stiff, it was obvious he hadn’t initiated a hug in a very long time, if ever.
    But she held on, because though she hated him at that moment, she knew the alternative was having a nervous breakdown right there in her own kitchen.
    Then they were kissing. She didn’t know who started it, but once it began, it blasted through them both like an unstoppable fire.
    “Tell me who you really are,” he demanded, dragging his lips across her neck. “Tell me everything.”
    Now it was her turn to say, “No.”
    A glass of water crashed to the floor and the next thing she knew, she was bent over the counter, her breasts pressed against the formica tile as he pulled down her jeans before taking the elastic band out of her hair. She felt her dreadlocks fan out across her back and heard his sharp intake of breath behind her.
    “Do you understand how you’ve tortured me these last few weeks?” he asked. “How much control you’ve made me exercise over myself?”
    One hand held her in place, while the other pulled aside the crotch of her panties. “Tell me,” he said again.
    “No,” she moaned. Her pussy was on fire now…she could feel it dripping, despite the situation she was in and how furious she was. The apartment’s cool air hit her exposed lips and it only made her squirm more. “No,” she said again, even as she moved her hips against the hand holding the crotch of her panties. “I’ll never tell you anything, so you can stop wasting your breath and just fuck me.”
    “Tell me.” He plunged into her from behind, stroking into her deep as he said it over and over again, “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”
    He worked her clit with