Page 29 of Spitfire

I want to dispute his words, but what would be the point? I am fucking filled with anxiety right now, and I'm questioning my actions and sanity. Common sense is telling me to leave, that no information Xavier has is worth degrading myself for. The other part of me, the one that dreams of dark things, and fantasizes about men in masks, primal chases, and enjoys pain with her pleasure, is fully on board and refuses to move an inch.

The FBI agent in me starts to look for clues, and warning signs. Anything that can lead me to understand who Xavier Poine is and what his motivations are. Well, I guess his motivations, other than to get me under him.

I observe carefully as he pours a generous helping of a clear liquid into two glasses. The thought that he might try to slip me something blares in my already overstimulated mind, but he never turns his back on me or obstructs my view. He returns to my side, offering me the glass, and when I hesitate to take it from him, he smiles and quirks an eyebrow, taking a sip from the glass he's offering me, before doing the same to his own. "I have no need to drug you, Scarlett, you came here willingly, and you're free to leave any time you want."

"Without the information you mean, Xavier. You won't willingly part with anything until you've received your part of the bargain." He doesn't dismiss my accusation, instead, he gives me a patient look, as one does when humoring someone.

I feel a flush of heat rise to my cheeks, and neck, at the thought of being so transparent. His slender fingers reach out, his forefinger brushing gently down my cheek before tapping below the glass now clenched tightly in my grip. "Drink, Scarlett."

He watches me take a hesitant sip, the liquid burning a path down my throat, with its warmth and smoothness. "Good girl," he smirks, and my core instantly clenches at his praise as I choke on my own saliva.

I take another large gulp, needing the liquid courage and meeting his heated glance. "Why me? You could have any woman you want, and we barely know each other."

"Why not you, Scarlett? You're beautiful, sexy, tenacious, and highly intelligent. If my suspicions are correct, and I believe they are, you have more than a touch of darkness within you, and crave danger, passion, and violence. All the things that appeal to me." He leans forward, the side of his face brushing against mine, as his lips graze against the side of my head, and his warm breath tickles my ear. "Tell me I'm wrong and this isn't doing anything for you, Spitfire. Tell me your thighs aren't clenching and your panties aren't wet."

Spitfire? Heat rises up my limbs at the unusual endearment. I'm not sure whether I like it, or if it just pleases me that he has one for me, and that makes me even more pathetic. His hand reaches out, caressing my neck, before his fingers wrap around the slim column and tighten, and a whimper flees my lips. My own body is betraying me right now with the way I sway into his touch. My other hand grasps the front of his shirt, my nails digging into his flesh through the material, and a groan fills the air between us. "More," I croak, urging him to tighten his fingers.

Instead of complying with my request, he releases me and takes the tumbler from me, leaving me gasping as I siphon in air. He moves away from me, placing both glasses on his island before turning and leaning against it, as if he has all the time in the world. "Last chance to leave, Scarlett. After this, you're fully mine." His words are not a statement, but a claiming, as if he knows exactly how this will play out, and is confident I won't deny him.

I give him nothing but a pointed stare, and he nods his head in acceptance. His almost-white hair falls in front of his eye, giving him a softer appearance that I instantly know is deceptive. There's nothing soft about Xavier Poine, he's a determined fucker who won't relent until he gets what and whom he wants, and right now that's me, and my submission to whatever game he wants to play. "Remove your dress, slowly. Let it fall to the floor and step away from it."

I stall for a moment, but at the amused quirk of his lips, I reach for the side zipper without further hesitation, my skin both breaking out in goosebumps and feverish with just his intense gaze. I push the dress off my shoulders and let it slide down my body, hugging all my curves in the process, until it pools around my feet like a puddle of red blood. His eyes follow the material, moving upward across my skin, taking in my black sheer-and-lace panties, and matching bra. His chest rises and falls more quickly now, as he continues to stare at me with hunger, and my nipples pucker into tight points against the delicate material with his heated expression.

"Remove the rest, but leave on the shoes," he murmurs darkly, his voice gravelly but stern.

My trembling fingers move behind my back, releasing the clasp on my bra, before it slides down my arms and meets my dress on the floor. I allow my fingers to trail down my skin, cupping my breasts, which causes his breath to hitch, before sliding down my abdomen to the sides of my panties on my hips. He bites down on his bottom lip, his hands clenched in front of him as if he's forcing himself not to reach for me, and instead enjoying the strip show I'm putting on for him. I push the black sheer fabric down, allowing it to slide past my ass before shimming seductively until they're past my knees, and meet my other clothing items. All the while, I never allow my gaze to move from him, cataloging his reactions to my every movement, and allowing them to embolden me.

"And now?" I question with a raised eyebrow as I step away from the puddle of fabric.

"Jesus, Spitfire, you're stunning." His words make me want to preen like a damn peacock, and I'll never admit it out loud, but his term of endearment amuses me. He forces a ragged breath past his lips and steps toward me. One hand reaches out, as he trails a finger along my collarbone, before circling me and allowing his touch to slide down my spine until it stops right where my asscheeks meet my back, before he cups one tightly in his grasp and squeezes. My head tilts back to meet his glance as I force myself to stay still, my own breathing ratcheting up until my chest rises and falls as if I were running, instead of standing here, allowing him to explore my body.

His other hand circles around me and cups my breast, his fingers encircling and plucking at my engorged, tender peak, before he pinches it hard and a gasp rips from me. He palms my ass roughly before his hand leaves my ass, and before I can even register what he's doing, my hair is yanked tightly, forcing my neck to bow, as he presses his teeth to my collarbone and bites down. Our size difference is painfully obvious as his body towers over me, and I feel the restrained energy coming off of him in waves. The sting of my tresses being pulled, and his teeth, causes me to tremble and shiver with need. I can feel my slickness weeping from my pussy and coating my upper thighs. "Xavier," I moan, not even sure what I'm asking for.

He licks at the bite mark, the feeling of his tongue lashing my skin driving me wild. He twists my nipple sharply, before kissing up the side of my neck until his lips reach my ear, and he nips at the tender lobe. "Soon, Spitfire, but first we need to play a little game. One I'm sure you'll enjoy, won't you, my sweet slut?"

Oh fuck! My body is betraying me right now, allowing itself to delve into my darkest fantasies. I'm becoming helpless to deny him anything at this moment. I want more of what he's offering, and that should scare the shit out of me. Instead, it has me wetter than I've ever been, as every inch of my skin quivers with anticipation for his next command.

You need to remember why you're here, Scarlett, and all that's at stake. Don't let yourself fall into a trap. The last thread of self-preservation screams inside my head as I falter.

His hands leave my skin, and I almost cry out, begging him to continue to touch me. My eyebrows knit, and confusion wraps around me, as he moves back towards the loft entrance. "Hide and seek, Scarlett. The rules are simple: when I catch you, I'll tie you up, gag you, and fuck you any way, and in any hole I want, for hours."

A choked sound withers and dies in my throat, as my heart pounds so fiercely it threatens to rip right out of my chest. I had to have misheard him. There's no way he just said what I think he did. "If... I manage to... evade you?" I whisper, as my pulse races and my hands become clammy at my sides.

"You won't," he declares, full of confidence, with a mirthless smirk across his handsome features, that liquefies my insides and has my core clenching on nothing.

"What about a safe word?" I question as a slight buzzing begins in my ears, and my eyes dart around the space looking for where to hide from him. I won't make this easy on him. He wants me, but he doesn't want it freely given, and is using manipulation and coercion as tactics to bend me to his will. Even if it's turning me on, I won't show him any weakness. He wants a piece of Scarlett Lyssa, and she doesn't bow down to anyone.

"Doesn't exist between you and me. You will beg me before I'm done, and know that you truly are mine." His voice rakes over me with assurance, the tone filled with the promise of sin and pleasure. A cold shudder slips down my body, with the understanding that no quarter will be given. The game won't end unless one of us is the victor, and the pledge of pain and depravity is the undertone of every syllable.

"Spitfire," he snarls in a deep, menacing voice that has me taking an unconscious step backward. "Run!"

The lights all go out at once, only a sliver of moonlight breaking through where the curtains meet, but not even enough for me to make out the shadows around me. Panic hits me hard, as I jolt before forcing myself to still, and listen for where he's positioned, but nothing but complete silence greets me. Holy fuck, he's going to chase me through here until he catches me and takes me down, before having his wicked way with me. I try to recall the details of the loft and the position of my obstacles. I reach down and remove my shoes, carefully setting them aside so he doesn't notice I've done it, and I don't trip in my haste to get away from him.

He's going to expect me to try for the door, and that's where he'll instantly catch me. Instead, I take a few hesitant steps towards the kitchen island, my hands out in front of me to stop myself from walking into anything, my toes digging into the cold hardwood for purchase. My breathing is too loud in my ears, and I'm almost positive he can hear it. My throat is so tight with panic that I'm not sure if I could scream at this point, not that I fear anyone would hear me.

A slight noise makes my head dart in that direction, the darkness doing nothing to alleviate my dread. Silence once more greets me, and I can't even sense a disturbance in the air around me. Is he still at the doorway? My hand makes contact with what I think is a stool, and it scrapes against the floor slightly, the small noise overly loud, and I grit my teeth, waiting for him to instantly pounce on me.

Where is he? I place my hand over my mouth, to silence my heavy breathing, as I take another step forward and crouch. Maybe I could hide between the stools and the island. I'm small enough that I should just fit. Before I can even attempt it, something grabs my hair from above, yanking me hard until a scream rips from me, echoing in the space. I lose my precarious balance and land hard on my ass, as warm air scented in gin greets my face. "Naughty slut, you can't hide from me."