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My Little Chaos has this uncanny ability to shut off her emotions. Unless I pry them out of her, which I have no doubt I'll love to do.
“Enlighten me, how'd you manage to squeeze out of the cuffs?” I raise a brow when, once again, nothing gives her away.
She meets my eye with no remorse. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”
Feisty. My favorite trait of hers.
I hum, letting the tip of the delicate wooden bow roam across her throat. The beat of her heart pulsates under it, moving with her erratic breaths and heaving chest.
I think back to the moment I dressed her in the closet, remembering the lack of undergarments I put on her body. The tiny black thong is the only thing beneath the silky nightgown hiding her from my prying eyes.
That should change. Immediately.
She shudders when the tip of the bow dips between her breasts, tracing the familiar scar cleverly hidden beneath a tattoo in the shape of a key with vines wrapping around it and flowers blooming.
All the puzzle pieces are clicking together one at a time.
“I'd hazard a guess and say you either slipped your wrist from the metal or somehow worked the lock. You seem like the type of kitten to not be caged.”
At her core, she ultimately craves freedom. It's in her movements and motivations. I've watched her for long enough to have figured out that much. Why, though? I haven't a clue. But I'll get it out of her.
“Being attached to you all, twenty-four seven, isn't ideal,” she snarks back with a shuddering breath when I trace her hard nipple through her nightgown.
“Your tits say otherwise,” I retort, continually tracing the little bud coming to life. “In fact, they look cold. Maybe a warm mouth could help.” I raise a brow when she steps back, swatting at the bow nestled in my hand. “Careful, Little Chaos. This bow costs more than your life. You break it. You owe me.”
“Then keep it away from me and my tits.” She scowls, covering herself. A deep red blush takes over her cheeks.
It's cute she thinks she's in any position to deny me and my tastes. Not that I'd take her unwillingly. On the contrary. I'd rather have Journey West on her knees, begging for my cock, than crying through fear.
One day.
I hum to myself, running my finger along the bow. It's a shame it's about to be smashed. It's a rarity, almost worth fifteen grand. It was one of the first pieces I bought for myself when my father gave me access to my inheritance. Oh, well. I'll buy another. Bigger. Better. More expensive. There are more rarities in this world. I won't let my Little Chaos rule this house. She will submit to me and my brothers. Wear what I say. Do as I say. Sit when I say.
“You know bows are made from fine horse hair. Each time I play, I loosen them to avoid any damage. Meticulously clean it to spare it from the oils of my skin. It’s a piece of art in itself. Magical even,” I hum, continuing to stroke the fine hairs between my fingers, effectively ruining it in one swoop.
“Nice story. Can I go get a snack now?”
I raise a brow, watching as she twitches toward the door, aching to leave me so soon.
She's a runner, indeed. The moment we leave her alone, she’ll take off going wherever she wants to go. Interesting. I’ll have to put that to the test and then punish her for defying me. Shit. My dick thickens, rubbing against my sweatpants as it chubs.
“You will not leave this room until you tell me how you escaped. By the look in your eyes, you were headed for the front door. Were you going to run all the way back to your condemned trailer, Little Chaos? There's no escape for you." Goosebumps pebble across her delicate skin when I step forward, circling her body like a shark at sea. She’s the blood, pulling me in.
And I’m ready to fucking devour her.
She frowns, eyeing me as I circle her. “I told you I was hungry, and it’s May. It’s not cold outside,” she huffs.
I stop behind her, gathering her curls in my fist and yanking her head back. Her back arches, and her fingernails dig into my arm. Fuck. The pain of her scratch soars through my veins, bringing me back to life.
Without a thought, I march her forward until her hips bump into the front of my massive wooden desk. She bucks, trying to push me off, but I don't relent. I put the full force of my body into her backside until she's immobile, breathing heavily.
“Get off me,” she yelps, attempting to elbow me again.
Not a chance.
She's fortunate I'm not wearing a belt, or I'd tie her hands together and bind her until she couldn't move. Luckily for her, I'm only in a pair of sweatpants.
“You're underestimating who I am and what I do,” I whisper into the shell of her ear. I may be obsessed with every molecule in her body, but I won't let her repeatedly disrespect me. “I interrogate liars every day. I have since I was eight.” I roll my lips together, breathing through the memories. “Liars spit in my face daily, telling me made-up stories. Now, you're lying right to my face. Which was it, Baby? Bathroom or snack?” I press harder into her back until she's bent over my desk. Her ass rubs against my dick. And my sweatpants do little to hide the growing want.
