Page 21 of Enslaved

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THE MAN’S AN ENIGMA. Usually, I can read eyes well. But his dark depths hold secrets. I practically ran out of his room because his gaze trapped me. I was looking too deeply, trying to read his eyes.

But I couldn’t. Until our gazes collided in the mirror.

His eyes flared so fast, I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t scrutinizing his face for any hint of emotion.

He has one hell of a poker face. I’ll give the man that. It occurred to me while I was lingering amongst his things, that he terrifies me not so much because of the things he wants from me, but because I’m starting to want to give them to him.

It’s probably because I’ve never personally interacted with a man of his caliber before. It’s not his wealth… it’s just him. He’s so physically overpowering, a true dominant male of the species. It’s practically stamped on his forehead, in the strong planes of his face, the hard tick of his jaw… it’s in the way he carries himself so assertively. The feel of his hard length against my bum felt decadent. I wanted it. For a split-second, I wished I could forget everything and just give in to the pure pleasure he would give. His attributes are affecting me; calling to the woman in me, making me crave him because it’s just nature. Survival of the fittest; the instinct to mate with the strongest male in the pride.

My hand brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear. Images of animals mating in the wild fill my head. The male mounting the female, rutting into her as he grunts in satisfaction.

Could I be her?

Do I secretly want to be mounted and taken so viscerally? Is he awakening a need I never knew I had?

I bit my lip so hard I taste blood, no longer scared of Christos, but terrified of myself. Being out here is romantic, just as Andre predicted. My mind keeps replaying the hot tub scene. I can’t shut it off.

“Did you finish cleaning his cabin?”

“Yes. There wasn’t much to do in there.”

“Thank fuck. Come on. Follow me to the den. There’s cum and condoms everywhere.”

“That’s disgusting. I won’t clean that.”

Her eyebrow rose. “You better. He personally asked for you to help clean the interior today.”

“Did he?”

Anger colors my face red. Just when I started to let myself think maybe I could sample a man like him, if only for one night—I’m once again reminded what an arrogant prick he is. I could never let a man like him touch me. When I had asked Andre out, I was completely flustered, my mind caught in someone else’s web.

But he’s exactly my type: carefree, unassuming—safe.

Sara opened the door; my hand covered my mouth and nose as the scents from within the room greeted us.

“What in the heck did they do in here?”

“Everything.”

“Um, no. I’m not going in. I’ll probably puke.”

“Loosen up. It was just an orgy. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen a few working in yachting.”

“I saw a threesome in a hot tub once,” I shrugged, feet not moving.

“Oh? Did you watch? You voyeur.”

“No. I-I didn’t.” A blush crept up my neck.

“Liar. You’re a dirty girl at heart just like the rest of us.”

“Sara… has Christos ever, you know, made a pass at you?”

“Never. Although I wish he would. I hemmed my dress up by three inches, so the curve of my ass will show every time I bend over. But he’s distant, cold even. I’d swear that man was gay if I didn’t personally witness the women walking bowlegged out to the tender when he’s through.

“Does that happen often?”

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