Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He picks me up and carries me in his arms all the way to the private bathroom. There he sets me down on the chair and turns on the faucet in the bathtub. He goes to his knees and takes off my heels that I couldn’t kick off in bed because of the straps. He softly places them on the floor beside me while his hand creeps up my leg ever so gently like a lover would touch his woman. And I’m so terribly confused by my own body’s reaction to his petting that I just go along with it.
His hands slide all the way up my dress, creeping underneath the fabric, only to tug at the panties that hold the buzzer in place. My thighs unclench, and he slowly tugs the panties down my legs so carefully that I’m almost starting to wonder if he won’t dare to touch me.
But that makes no sense. He captured me like a goddamn animal and keeps me in a cage. Why would he go through all that trouble if he could just grab what he wanted and use me?
I shiver in place from just the thought. And he pauses with undressing me right as the panties are at my toes.
“Don’t think so much, Amelia,” he says. “It will make you lose your mind.”
“Too late,” I respond, trying not to look at him, but it’s so damn hard when he looks at me like that, so warm yet so possessive, like a teacher trying to woo his assistant into submission.
Before I can say another word, he slips my dress over my head and takes it off. When he sets his eyes on me, I clench my legs together and clutch my chest.
“Why do you want to hide so badly?” he asks.
I throw him a look and don’t respond, but he knows damn well why.
He shrugs and turns around, feeling the temperature of the water before flicking his hand to rid himself of the droplets. “It’s warm enough. Hop in.”
I lift a brow and look at him. “Why?”
“You’re dirty,” he retorts, cocking his head. “Didn’t you feel the beads of sweat dripping down your back while you were coming?”
I almost choke on my own saliva. I can’t believe he said that out loud. And for some reason, it makes my cheeks flush with heat.
He nods at the water. “Go on.”
I hesitate for a moment, staring at him just to gauge how pissed off he’d get if I didn’t do what he says. Maybe now wouldn’t be the smartest time to do that. I mean, he’s warming up to me, and it’d be a shame to waste his trust. Maybe I can use it to my advantage. If I make him believe I’m a good girl … would it be easier to fool him until I find a way out?
I gather my courage and get up from the seat, still clutching myself as I huddle toward the bathtub and step inside. The water is warm and feels so good on my aching body, but I can’t enjoy it because he’s still here staring at me.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
“Clean yourself,” he answers.
Waiting, I continue to stare at him, hoping he’ll leave, but he doesn’t.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks.
“Can I have a little privacy?”
He shakes his head and grabs another strand of my hair, twirling it in his fingers. “Perhaps. But you’ll have to earn my trust, angel.”
Goose bumps scatter on my skin. I lean away so my hair falls from his fingers. “Fine. Can I at least have a towel or something? To cover up?”
He leans in over the bathtub, taking in a deep breath while he momentarily closes his eyes, almost as if he’s savoring the smell. “There is nothing to hide, Amelia. I’ve already seen enough … and I enjoyed every second of it.”
My cheeks turn crimson red. When he opens his eyes again, we engage in a stare down, and my whole body begins to shake again.
“You get off on this, don’t you?” I retort.
A smirk spreads on his lips. “Not enough.”
I throw him a shady look. “I’d like to know what kind of evil deserves this punishment,” I growl, rage bubbling up to the surface again.
“That’s something you need to find out for yourself,” he says.
I roll my eyes and throw my head back, groaning with annoyance.
He grips my hand. “You begged me to, Amelia. Do not forget.”
“But if I ask you to let me go, you’ll refuse, won’t you?”
“Because that’s not what you need,” he retorts.
Tears well up in my eyes again. “I just want my freedom back … please.”
I’m hoping, praying, that my pleading will have an effect on him, but he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. It’s almost as if he’s seen me do this a million times before. Like he’s grown used to it. And that makes me wonder … am I the first girl he’s done this to?