Page 54 of Stolen

“Pull down the zipper,” he ordered with a nod.

I knew it would come down to this, yet I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I froze. I couldn’t explain it, but the thought of my hands being anywhere near his dick again made me want to vomit all over the place.

And then the smack to my face woke me from my state of shock.

“That’s for hesitating. Don’t make me tell you again,” he growled down at me.

Shaking off the pain now pulsing in my cheek, I brought my fingers to the zipper that was pressing out of the black slacks he wore. I bit the inside of my mouth as I pulled the zipper down in a quick fashion and placed my hands back in my lap, praying to God I wouldn’t have to do what I knew he wanted.

“Good girl.” He patted the top of my head like an obedient dog. “Now stand and take off your dress. Slowly.”

I groaned in protest, trying to hide it and failing. I was going to murder this motherfucker. I swore on it. I rose gently, my hands balled into tight fists at my side as I eyed him something fierce. The look he gave me back was just as intense, another warning radiating from his eyes if I didn’t listen.

Biting hard on the inside of my cheek, I took the flimsy material of my stretchy tube top dress and slowly pulled it down my body until it pooled around my feet. I stood there exposed, shaking with rage as my fists returned to my side, my muscles tensing as his hands remained relaxed in his pockets. My eyes were glued to the wall behind him as he took a step toward me. I inhaled a sharp breath through my nose as I felt his lips graze my forehead.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Lie down on the bed and close your eyes.”

Biting back my tongue, I turned and walked over to the bed, trying my best not to give in to the despair of what I knew I would have to endure. But I would do it for Kayla. Better me than her, or any of them for that matter.

Lying back on the bed, I kept my knees bent and closed together while my hands clawed the sheets at my sides. I shut my eyes and focused on controlling my breathing and forcing my heart to calm down. My stomach clenched tight, sharp little knots threatening to tear me in half and making it incredibly difficult not to fidget under the owner’s scrutiny. I knew he was enjoying the show – I could fucking feel it.

Bastard.

I listened as he fidgeted for a second before his footsteps came closer to the edge of the bed, causing me to grip the sheets even tighter.

I fucking hoped he didn’t have another camera on him.

So silent. So much tension, it was driving me insane. I could feel his eyes on my skin as if he were devouring me right then and there. It was almost painful just to remain still.

And then I felt his fingertips trace along my shoulder and down the length of my arm, causing me to flinch. Goose bumps followed his trail on my skin as I tried to suppress the shiver threatening to give me away.

“So beautiful,” he whispered again as he traced his fingers back and forth. My skin was on fire where he touched me, like a slow trail of acid running down my arm, scorching everything in its path.

Before the burn was over, he climbed on top of me, straddling my hips and resting on his forearms on either side of my head. His warm breath tickled my face, minty with a side of malice. The tip of his nose was mere inches from mine as his hands pushed back my hair from my face.

He was being so gentle, so careful, and it was scaring the shit out of me. I was waiting for the fire, waiting for the rage to unleash itself from within him all over again. The anxiety was absolutely killing me.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded.

Tentatively, I lifted my lids and was met with nothing but deep ocean blue. It was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time because I knew who those eyes belonged to. I knew exactly who was staring back at me, and I could feel my soul cringe inside me as if it too were trying to hide from his gaze.

“God, your eyes…” he whispered as his gaze narrowed. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

I grunted under him, uncomfortable with his unnecessary assessment.

“Is this your idea of foreplay?” I asked boldly.

He smirked. “Is this your idea of submission?”

“Why, am I doing it wrong?”

“Depends on who you ask,” he replied, his smirk curving into a wicked smile.

I really needed to stop entertaining him with my stupid fucking sass.

Releasing a breath through my nose, I looked away from him, turning my head slightly. He was clearly lying to himself if he thought he really wanted my submission. It would bore him. It was written all over his face. Maybe that was how I could win this little game. Bore him to death.

His hand then gripped my jaw, forcing it back to its original position and locking me in place.

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