Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Far, far worse.
Chapter Seven
Maykl
I rise with the sun and get up to shower. I liked having my little warrior settled beside me far more than I liked her out in the living room where I couldn’t see her. Where I was worried about her discomfort.
Blyad’. I don’t know how I’m going to get any information out of her when I’m so unwilling to inflict even the smallest amount of pain.
I make my shower quick and discover my sense of urgency was correct. She’s rolled herself off the bed and is crawling her way across the floor like an inchworm.
Considering the state of her undress, it’s a very alluring sight. I watch her, letting her keep it up as I pull my clothes out and get dressed. Letting her entertain me with her bare ass undulating to the sky like she’s humping my floor.
“That’s pretty, malen'kaya Valkiriya.”
She knew I was in the room. I’m sure she knew the moment the shower stopped that I’d find her. She sighs and rolls over onto her back to look at me. “I have to pee.”
I love that she’s not afraid of me. That she’s making petulant demands.
That’s wrong.
I should definitely want her to be afraid. How else will I get the information I need from her?
But it satisfies me on some deep level that she’s not traumatized by what I’ve put her through. That she still has her indomitable warrior spirit and is fighting back in the ways she can.
I give her a glimmer of a smile and tilt my head toward the bathroom. “Then you’re going in the wrong direction.”
She holds her bound hands out like she wants me to help her up.
I shake my head and fold my arms across my chest. “Nyet. I am enjoying the show. Thoroughly. Please continue, little warrior. It’s a lovely sight.”
She huffs her displeasure but manages to roll back to her belly and make a 180 to start inching in my direction.
Fuck.
So. Hot.
I never thought I’d be the type of guy who fantasized about keeping a woman captive. Forcing her to crawl. To serve.
But everything about this scenario is turning me on.
Until I notice the rug burn on her forearms.
I lurch forward and scoop her up to balance on her bound legs then toss her over my shoulder to carry to the bathroom. I let my hand slide up the back of her bare thigh.
She smells like sugar cookies and warm bread and faintly of sex.
I set her down in front of the toilet and stand over her as she lowers to sit on the seat, pinning me with a defiant look.
Showing me she’s not cowed by my handling or intimidated by me towering over her, watching as she uses the toilet.
She makes a show of using the blade of her taped hands to unroll a length of toilet paper then raises her brows at me expectantly.
I waffle between telling her to drip-dry and helping. Which is more disempowering?
Since I don’t intend to allow her to dress, I decide helping is the best option. I finish and inspect her elbows and knees. The skin is chafed. She’ll probably get little scabs, but there’s no real harm.
Still, I don’t like seeing any kind of marks on her.
Except my handprint on her ass.
I like that. A lot.
I carry her back to the bed and toss her on it, climbing over to snip off the tape around her wrists and pull her arms behind her back again. “You shouldn’t have tried to run away, Valkiriya. Now I have to punish you.”
She turns her head, trying to gaze at me over her shoulder. Her bare ass is tempting me to do all kinds of dirty things to her. I lean over and bite one cheek, hard.
But she’s not my plaything.
I need to interrogate her today. Find out what she’s doing here. Who sent her. What her objective was in searching my desk. Is it related to her sister’s death? Her search for her nephew? Does she still believe he’s here?
My shift begins at noon, so I need to get answers soon.
I scoop her delectable body into my arms and carry her back to the living room, where I tape her back in the chair. Once more, having her tied to my kitchen chair pleases me. It inspires an affection toward her rather than animosity. I don’t want to harm her, but I also don’t want to give her her freedom back.
Ever.
I ruffle her silky hair before I walk away.
In the kitchen, I scramble a pan of eggs and put toast in the toaster. I make enough for her to eat, too, even though I know the logical thing would be for me to refuse to feed her. To eat in front of her as a torment and wait until she grows hungry and desperate enough to talk.