Page 13 of The Vigilante's Lover
But this one wrote me in my own code, which means she knew what she was doing, however pathetically she misinterpreted the knots.
I will show her I understand her game, and that I am not a Vigilante to be trifled with. We’ll end this little charade here and now.
I sit next to her. Her breathing speeds up again. The letters are still spread across the bed. I spot one with only a single line. “A new one?” I ask. “For me?”
She doesn’t answer, just watches with those green eyes. Vixen eyes. Looks like I’ll be ending my dry spell on this one before it’s over. Maybe I’ll let her think she’s seducing me, right till the end.
I pick up the letter.
“Let’s see,” I say. “What was on sweet Mia’s mind before she retired this evening?” I hold the paper to the light. “Mmmm. I like this. ‘You jerk my ankles apart with such strength that my gown disintegrates into tattered shreds around my naked hips.’”
I glance down at her thighs. “I say we give this one a go.”
Her eyes widen with shock. Such a well-trained little actress. I look forward to assessing her skill. What sort of maneuvers does she take pride in? I can already picture those slender legs wrapped around me.
I grasp the white cotton and tear it past her waist. Her hips are narrow in simple white panties. I finger the lace edge. Her breathing comes fast again. She’s so good at this. I almost believe it.
“Such pretty little underwear,” I say.
Her green eyes glisten with tears. So well done.
“Are you going to tell me you’re a virgin?” I ask. “I hope you knowyou can only do the hymen restructure surgery so many times before you lose feeling.”
Her mouth opens in a feigned oval of shock. As if she didn’t know.
“Your nightclothes remind me of one of my favorite books.Little Women.Have you read it?”
She shakes her head no.
“A pity,” I say. “Such strong women in that book. Do you consider yourself a strong woman?”
She shakes her head again.
“Too bad. Because we’re about to find out what you’re made of.”
When I rip another slice through her nightgown, she screams.
8: Mia
I am in hell.
I am in the hell I deserve for lying to this man. For writing him. For leading him on.
I wish I had never seen the letters. Never thought about them.
Never written back.
I can’t watch him cut up my gown. It’s too frightening, so I squeeze my eyes shut. I know he’s looking at me. The air is hitting my thighs and belly. I’m typically shy. No one has ever seen this much of me.
His slipknots on my wrists are perfectly tied, so that the more I move, the tighter they get.
I don’t recognize the pattern across my body, however. These aren’t sailing knots. They are something else, meant for other purposes. I don’t have to see them to remember how they look. The blood-red ropes crisscrossing my breasts and ribs aren’t something I’ll easily forget. The image is branded on my brain.
I won’t open my eyes. I don’t want to see my shredded nightgown.He used my own words against me, slicing the gown apart like we were lovers on a dare.
Goosebumps spread across my skin from the chill. I’m embarrassed as much as scared. The bed shifts as he moves. I assume he will take me now, do what he wants to me. He’ll assume my real virginity is — what did he call it? Hymen restructuring?
Where does this man come from?
