Page 11 of Ravage
His attention is entirely on me.
"Stand up."
I obey immediately, surprising myself.
He stands too, towering over me. "If you come with me now, you're mine for three nights. No more, no less. You'll do everything I say, when I say it. You'll take everything I give you. And when it's over, you leave and never come back."
"Why three nights?"
"Because that's how long it'll take."
"For what?"
His smile is sharp, dangerous. "To ruin you for anyone else."
My breath catches. Between my legs, I'm soaked. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
Somehow, I know what he wants. "Yes, Sir."
"Good girl." The praise shouldn't affect me the way it does. "Follow me."
He turns and walks away, not checking to see if I follow.
I do.
Of course I do.
I've been walking toward this moment for eight years.
I just didn't know it until now.
He leads me through Hell, past scenes that become increasingly intense.
People step aside as we pass, some bowing their heads slightly.
Respect. Fear. Both.
We reach a door marked PRIVATE.
He enters a code—different from the elevator—and it opens into a hallway lined with more doors.
He chooses one seemingly at random, though I suspect nothing this man does is random.
The room is luxurious.
Blood-red walls, black leather furniture, a bed that looks like it's seen things.
But it's the other elements that make my stomach drop and pulse race.
Restraints attached to various surfaces.
A cabinet with glass doors displaying things I don't have names for, but understand the purpose of.
Tools of pain.
Tools of pleasure.
