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I didn’t have a choice, did I?
The slow thud of footsteps echoed from the stairs. I dropped my hand from the door and stepped backwards. I’d had this moment in my head for hours…but now I wasn’t so sure.
I glanced down at the sheet wrapped around me and stepped backwards until the back sof my legs hit the edge of the bed as the lock clicked and the door opened.
Then the devil himself walked in, carrying a tray of food.
Of course, he locked the door behind him. Nothing could be that easy. He didn’t glance my way, didn’t even speak as he placed the tray on the desk next to the half-eaten sandwich and the empty water jug. “Good.” His words were careful. “You’re starting to learn.”
“Fuck…you.”
That impenetrable, icy stare cut my way as he straightened, then his gaze slowly lowered. I didn’t fight the surge of satisfaction at the look of distaste that followed. “Where are the clothes I provided?”
“I threw them out the window.”
He flinched, his gaze shifting to the curtains behind me. “You did what?”
I smiled wider. “I threw them…outthe window.”
His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed, drawing attention to the faint lines near his temple that showed every bit of his age. I jutted my chin higher. “If you want someone to dress like a whore, then you should wear the fucking clothes yourself…Daddy.”
He went still. So still he looked like a damn statue, then he moved across the room faster than I could track. His hand lashed out, gripping me by the throat, forcing me backwards until I fell onto the bed.
He was on top of me in an instant, leaving no room for me to escape.
“Those cost me a fucking fortune.” His cultured, stony tone made fear flutter in my chest, as he looked down to the sheet hugging the curve of my breasts. “The next time you decide to throw away something I buy you will be the last time you get the freedom to perform such an act. Do I make myself clear?”
A shiver passed through me.
He cut that deadly stare to mine, his grip tightening, until I fought the urge to cough. “I said…do…I…make… myself…clear?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Slowly his hold eased before he pulled away and stood. That chilling stare fixed on my body, the way my hard breaths pushed against the fabric. I felt a trickle of cold air, a slither that caressed my hip where the sheet gaped open. The graze of his fingers made me shiver as he pushed the sheet aside for it to fall between my parted thighs. One more inch to the left and he’d see everything…revealing the nothing I wore underneath.
Because that’s what he wanted…wasn’t it?
My body bare.
Open.
Exposed.
Waiting for the brutality of his touch.
He licked his lips, his chest rising.
I saw it now. London St. James had a breaking point, and I'd finally reached it.
That flutter in my chest sank lower, until it settled between my thighs, tucked a little deeper than the sheet. My pussy clenched with the throb. I hated that, hated how, instead of beating him with my fists and screaming in his face, I wanted him to push that sheet wider.
I wanted him to see me.
To fucking use me.
To take me back down to that basement and make good on his threats.
Oh God…
