“Hmm. . . pity. I would have lapped up the blood if I did. It is, after all, the right thing to do.”
His deep timbre vibrates through the area he is shaving, adding to the wetness. He continues shaving me for the next several minutes. Sometimes he gets right up close to ensure he doesn’t miss any areas hidden by tiny folds and crevices. Other times, he leans so far back, the long rod in his jeans becomes exposed.
His attention amplifies the pleasing zap shooting up my spine, and his occasional glance into my eyes makes my stomach knot tighter, but not once does he nick me.
After a few more minutes, he pats the silky smooth surface three times with a washcloth, then rises to a half-seated position. “Done.”
His eyes stray to mine. They are more effervescent than ever. “Want to take a look?”
I nod a little overeagerly. If the visual is as wondrous as his eyes are portraying, I don’t want to miss out. Anyone would swear he was gawking at a rare eclipse, his pupils are so dilated.
“Wait,” Dexter demands when I attempt to scoot off the bed. “I’ll bring the mirror to you, then you can view it how I see it.”
He rolls off the bed before heading to the bathroom. My pulse pounds in my ears when the shattering of glass bellows into the room not even two seconds later. I would check on him, but he told me to wait, so I must wait.
When he reenters the room, he is clutching a shard of glass in his blood-soaked hand. The hunger in his eyes is as notable as earlier, but there is a dangerous edge to it now. I should be wary. I should be scared. But all I am is turned on. Dexter is a big, moody man, carrying a dangerous weapon and an even more hazardous smile, and I am without medication. My response is highly accurate.
My thighs spread wider when Dexter pierces the shard of glass into the mattress a mere inch in front of my aching vagina. I shoot my eyes up to him before dropping them back to the thought-provoking visual.Is that what it’s supposed to look like?It’s bald, void of a single hair.
“Do you like what you see, Megan?” Dexter’s long drawl of my name returns my focus to him.
My lips twist as I pause for thought. It looks okay, but it’sveryexposing. There is nothing to hide the wetness. The folds of skin rippled down the middle glisten like Dexter’s eyes when he takes in the same visual.
After a few moments of silent deliberation, I give a half-hearted shrug, truly unsure.
“It will grow on you,” Dexter assures me before removing the mirror wedged between my legs and tossing it into the fireplace.
I sit up with the hope of finding my panties. I’ve barely risen to a half-seated position when a click sounds through my ears. I glare at Dexter, certain he is where the noise originated from. A jeering smile spreads across his face as he glances down at the sleek black cell phone in his hand.
“What do you think? Too risqué? Or tastefully seductive?”
He spins the device around to show me. There is a picture of me on the screen. Although the area Dexter shaved is on display, it’s partially hidden by my clamped thighs.
“I think it’ll work. Let’s send it, shall we?”
I dive for his state of the art phone when a swoosh noise ricochets through the dead-silent cabin. I don’t want my photo on the internet for the world to see. Especially not a partially naked one. If I still had my pubic hair, it wouldn’t be as demoralizing, but if they zoom in, they’ll see every inch of my ungodly region.
“Whoa, hey, settle the fuck down!” Dexter roars when my frantic lunge knocks his phone out of his hand.
While pinning me to the bed by my throat with one hand, his other darts down to grab his phone. I’m afraid he’ll squeeze my neck until I pass out when I spot the hairline cracks my violence caused to his screen. It was as smooth as my vagina ten seconds ago.
When Dexter’s furious eyes snap to mine, I swallow harshly. “Why did you do that? I’m trying to fuckin’ help you!”
I want to respond, but even if I weren’t mute, I wouldn’t be able to. His clutch on my throat is too firm.
So instead, I use my eyes and a windless grunt.I don’t want anyone to see that.
“If I didn’t send Nick proof of your existence, he wouldn’t know you’re alive. If he doesn’t know you’re alive, he won’t expect you. You want him to be prepared, don’t you, Megan? You want him to welcome you home with open arms.”
The vicious growl of his last sentence freezes my lungs as effectively as his clutch on my throat. I stop prying at his fingers so I can answer his question by asking one of my own.You sent the photo to Nick?
“Yeah, I did,” Dexter answers, reading me like no other. “But now I wish I didn’t. Maybe I should have upped the ante? Sent him one with my hand wrapped around your throat. . . or perhaps my tongue in your mouth.”
He leans in closer, bringing his lips to within an inch of mine. I lick them, still feeling the sting of our last foray.
“Or maybe I should send him one of your greedy little cunt swallowing my cock. Would you prefer that, Megan? Do you want him to see how wet I make you?”
He sucks in an exaggerated breath that makes my airless lungs envious. “I can smell how aroused you are, and I barely laid a finger on you.”
