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Tentatively, I put out a hand, and he gives the bag to me. I withdraw into my corner, my legs tucked beneath me, my other hand still holding the towel. I reach into the bag and pluck out the item.
My stomach sinks.
It’s a baby doll negligée in pink with a satin bow at the point between the lacy cups. I realize that a simple tug on that bow will allow the whole thing to fall open. It’s floating and swirly, but also almost see-through. It’s a weird combination of being extremely sexy while also being somehow childlike.
I hate it instantly.
“Put it on,” Don says. “The others will be here soon.”
My blood runs cold. “Others. What others?”
He doesn’t give me a straight answer. “I think you’re going to be a little old for their taste, but we can always lie and say you’re younger. Looking as you do right now, with no makeup and naked as the day you were born, I’d say you could pass for seventeen.”
I almost don’t want to know. “Seventeen? Why do I need to be seventeen?”
“Let’s just say this group of men prefer their pussy to be untouched, innocent. Young.”
A wave of nausea washes over me. Is Don saying what I think he’s saying? Is he about to hand me over to a bunch of fucking pervs? I’d thought my situation was bad enough, but it’s just gotten a thousand times worse. Maybe I would have been able to handle Don fucking me—I’d have been traumatized, but I’d figure out a way to live with it—but being handed around to men like that? Would they all want a turn? Was that to be my fate?
Even though I’m sitting, I need to put a hand to the wall to steady myself. The room spins around me. This is sick. This whole fucking thing is sick.
I have badly misjudged what is going on here. The man isn’t deeply in love with me, not if he’s willing to pass me around like a toy.
I send a silent prayer out to Rafferty and the others.Please find me. Please, please, please. Find me before it’s too late.
This explains the baby doll negligée. He’s dressing me up for these fuckers.
There was me thinking Don would be possessive of me, that he’d want me for himself, when the whole time he’d been planning on sharing me around. This is so different from being back at the resort, I can’t even get my head around it. Yes, I was shared between Rafferty, Brody, Asher, and Wilder—and maybe it wasn’t always willingly at first, other than for the money —but they always made sure I was satisfied sexually, and they always turned me on. I dread to think what kind of men I’m about to be handed to.
I need to be brave. Cowering and simpering in a corner isn’t going to get me anywhere.
I don’t know if these men will like it better if I’m meek and compliant, or if they’ll get turned if I try to fight, but I decide I won’t let them take me easily. If I can draw some blood first, then I will.
Unsteadily, I get to my feet. I set my jaw and put my shoulders back and take a step closer to Don. I hold his eye, hoping he can see the fire burning inside me.
“I’ll tell them the truth. I’ll tell them how old I am, and I’ll make sure they know I’m far from being untouched.”
His eyes harden. “You shut your mouth, princess.”
“Why? Because you don’t want to hear the truth? I’ve been more than touched. I’ve had four men fuck me all at the same time. I’ve sucked their cocks and they’ve fucked my mouth and come down my throat. I’ve had two of them inside me at the same time, one in my ass and one in my pussy, and they made me come harder than I knew was even possible.” I spit the words at him. “And do you know what? I loved every second of it.”
The crack across my cheekbone sends my head rocking backward, and I find myself back on the floor. I don’t even feel any pain for a moment. I’m too busy seeing stars and trying to figure out what’s just happened.
Don is standing over me, his finger jabbed in my direction. “Don’t ever let me hear you speak like that again, or you’ll get a lot worse than a slap on the face. You got it?”
So, he slapped me. That makes sense. The restraint he’d had when he slapped me shortly after our arrival has vanished. He didn’t hold back this time.
I give my head a slight shake—not to indicate no, but to try to dislodge the ringing that’s suddenly started in my ear on the side where he hit me. Heat blooms in the shapes of his fingers, and I wonder if he’ll have left a bruise. Maybe not. He’s clever. He knows just how to hit to prevent visible bruising—or at least he did with my mother. He never wanted anyone asking any difficult questions. Of course, Don doesn’t care if he leaves a mark on my face now. No one is going to see it, at least, no one who’ll care.
I stay where I am, waiting for the darkness around the edges of my vision to fade. It occurs to me that I may have inadvertently found Don’s weak spot. He still wants to think of me as the young girl I once was—untouched, pure. He can’t stand the thought that I’ve been defiled by anyone other than him. Or perhaps it’s not for himself. Is it these ‘others’ he’s mentioned a couple of times now? Was there some kind of agreement that he’d deliver me to them still a virgin?
The possibility is weighty on my mind. It might also explain why he didn’t just take me in the shower—why he didn’t even touch me. Perhaps he worried that if he got started, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking me.
Is there someone he’s trying to impress? Someone he wants to make an impact on? Someone who might be coming here?
I don’t push Don any further. I’m worried I’ll end up with a boot in the stomach, or worse. Instead, I stay huddled on the floor and pray that he’ll leave.
“Get dressed,” he says from above me. “Then drink your coffee and eat your food, and, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you use the bathroom. But if you misbehave like that again, I’ll have you pissing in the corner. Do you understand me?”
