Page 19 of Dangerous Refuge

Sven’s voice is gruff, distinctly close to me too. I freeze, not realizing he has been watching me and then I push myself up to a sitting position. My nipples are hard, not from arousal, just from the cold air in the room. So he is the one who helped me to bed and he didn’t even cover me up? Funny how when I realize it was him my gratitude flies out the window.

“Why are you watching me?” I hiss, scooting up on the bed until my back has pressed hard against the headboard. I scramble to cover myself. No sense giving him a free show. He takes what he wants anyway. Not that I would complain, but I don’t want him getting the idea that I’m softening to his demands. I just need protection. I have no intention of falling for him.

“I smoke a cigar before I lay down every night.” He sits forward on the chair and I see his erect dick is not in his pants where it belongs. How long was I touching myself while I was sleeping? And was he masturbating to my sleep-play? I can’t pull my eyes away from his crotch; his fingers touch it lightly, holding it upright.

“I don’t see a cigar.” I glance at the ashtray on the corner of the dresser next to where he’s seated. There is no smoke rising. In fact, there is no smoke hanging in the air either. He is either lying to me or—

“I finished that an hour ago.”

Figures… He was watching me sleep-play. I cringe inside, wishing I could undo the past few hours and not get in that bath. After witnessing that bleeding man—and then the way Sven shouted at me—I’m having major second thoughts. Though, my vagina isn’t saying that right now.

“So you watched me sleep for an hour?” I ask, defiant. I may have agreed to his controlling proposal, but I don’t have to be his slave. Wives are to be respected, not used or abused. That’s a lesson Paul never learned and shame on me for waiting so long to leave him.

“Two actually,” he says, putting his hand around his dick and stroking gently. “And when you were sleep-talking, it was kinda sexy. So you did this to me. The part where you touched yourself was really fucking hot. Icing on the cake.”

Shame washes over me, forcing me to retreat into myself when I realize we are both horny and I am naked. This is his room. I am supposedly his fiancé, and even though I don’t know him, I want him.

“Do you always sit around watching a woman sleep and touch yourself thinking of her?” I squirm, feeling the ache in my vagina grow worse. I shift the thick maroon blanket so I can pull it up higher across my chest and a breeze wafts across my valley, sending a cooling sensation in every location my juices have spread. It’s a mess down there. Why does my pussy betray me by wanting him when he isn’t even civilized about this thing? Even if this was an arranged marriage by today’s standards, I’d be given more respect.

“Only for you.” He stands, letting his slacks fall to the ground along with his boxers. He’s hard—really hard, and it makes my pussy clench. He walks to the bed and folds the covers back on his side, then climbs in. When he shuts off the light and turns his back on me, I am instantly furious. He wants me. I saw his hard cock. Why is he acting like he is just going to sleep? Why does he just lie down like he doesn’t have precum smeared all over his shaft?

“Did you wash me?” I ask, angry that he is just going to sleep. Doesn’t he know I am horny? He has to know. He was watching me touch myself.

“Couldn’t help myself. Besides, I didn’t want that delicious pussy getting an infection. You forgot to take the panties out.”

I wince and clench my jaw. He doesn’t care about me. Why did he say that? He just wants a toy, or a trophy, though I can’t see how I’d be a trophy to a man this wealthy. I’m nothing to him, just a human blow-up doll he can order around. That doesn’t stop my pussy from needing fucked though.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I cross my arms over my chest in a huff and growl out my frustration.

“What?” he asks, turning to look over his shoulder at me. In the darkness I can just make out a smirk on his face. He’s toying with me, pushing my buttons.

“You’re just going to sleep?”

Why am I being so forward with him? Is it the alcohol I’m clearly still under the effects of? Or has this man gotten under my skin so badly that I can’t stand to be at peace around him?

“I was planning to. That’s what you do in a room with the lights off after midnight.” He turns back and adjusts his pillow and I scream growl.

I pull my pillow out from behind my back and smack him with it hard. Big mistake. He comes off the bed in a flash, turning and yanking me down toward the foot of the bed by my ankles. “What the hell are you doing? Who do you think you are?” Sven is strong, stronger than Paul. I tremble there at the edge of the bed, waiting to see if he’ll fuck me or smack me.

“Your toy apparently,” I spit out, trying to back away, but he grips both of my hips and pins me down. He’s strong enough to manhandle me any way he wants, and it’s a rush feeling his fingers dig into my sides. Definitely the alcohol.

“If you were just a toy, I’d have never let you sleep. You’d have been bruised from pussy to knee with how hard I fucked you.” His breath is hot against my skin as he growls his words into my ears.

“Then fucking do it,” I tell him, shuddering to think of that wild of a sexual experience. I believe he’s capable of it—of making me cum so hard every blood vessel in my lower half bursts with the pressure of orgasmic contractions. I kinda want to feel that.

“You’re not ready, Princess.”

“I’m not a Princess.” I try to get one last point against him, but my body is lying to me. Every part of me is on fire for this man. He’s not even inside me and I’m shaking with the need for him. How can someone I barely know have such control over me?

“Now go to sleep,” he growls, pulling my body tight against his and wrapping his arms around me as he crawls back into bed. I feel him from my shoulders to the backs of my thighs, and his hard dick presses against me. Teasing me.

“I’m not tired,” I tell him defiantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I didn’t say you were. I said, sleep.”

He’s got me. I can’t think when I’m under his arms. I’m his toy, and if I’m not careful, I’ll just be a body to him. I need to make sure I’m more than that.

“I’m not going to sleep,” I tell him, my arms unclenching from across my chest. My hands unfurl over his broad shoulders and I run my fingernails down his chest and over his abs, watching the muscles of his stomach jump and quiver under my touch. My hands are antsy, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to resist touching him.

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