His words aren’t just senseless noise that’s circulated in the air, they alter the atmosphere along with his dominating presence, to something more sinister, more sexual. Something I’m unaccustomed to.
My innocence annoys him.
As he’s made clear before.
I shift in the tub, moving to cover my bare pussy and breasts from beneath his shameless gaze. He shifts beside the tub, and my eyes immediately move to the thick bulge in his pants.
How could he be so hard again?
Minutes after finishing himself off?
The sexual appetite is unsettling.
But I can’t deny the effect it has on me, innocent or not, in the face of a man who desires me so potently, I’m unable to control the autonomous reaction of my body; my nipples harden but not because of the cool breeze that teases the sensitive flesh when I move and they surface the air above the warm water in the tub. They harden because of his gaze, because of the way I notice his cock straining in his pants.
Each passing moment I remain beneath his roof, I seem to gain a sexual appetite foreign to myself.
I tell myself to roll with the flow that my body seems to have but my mind still presents roadblocks. His fists tighten on the edge of the tub, the muscles in his forearms bulging and present. I hiss in a deep breath, and it seems to amuse him.
“Rubbing your thighs together?”
My eyes widen, confusion on my expression as I tilt my head and glance at my own thighs which I hadn’t even known were rubbing together.
How revealing.
I shake my head, attempting to dissuade what I know is in his head, but what’s the point.
“Tell me, Sasha….”
My name rolls off his tongue, a deep cadence that makes my breath hitch in my throat. He removes his hands from the tub, his fingers glistening with the wetness of escaped droplets that have made it near the rim, before he moves his hands to the buttons on his shirt.
He’s going to remove it.
I shouldn’t watch.
I just wanted this moment of normalcy and he can’t even give me that.
But as he removes each button, the material dampening from the moisture on his hands, I’m unable to peel my eyes from each inch of chiseled muscle he reveals.
“Does that pussy crave me?”
Another button undone.
“How badly do you want me between your thighs, since you want to rub them together so much.”
“So that automatically means I want you?”
Oops.
The words burst from my lips, my tone filled with attitude that must’ve been conjured from the interruption of relaxation. When I got a taste of peace and it was ripped away it chipped away at the submissive attitude I’ve adapted with.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t apologize if it’s meaningless.” He removes the last button and let’s his shirt fall down and that’s when I notice the scars along his arms. I gasp, eyes moving over them, concern furrowing my brows.
What the hell happened to him?
It looks like someone’s slashed his arms and shoulders with a knife repeatedly. Even areas of his chest.
“That looks like it hurt,” I say. If he’s mad that I’ve noticed his scars, he doesn’t exactly say. He takes a deep breath, licks his lip and cocks his head sideways.
“It didn’t.”
“It didn’t?” I question, blatant worry in my voice. What does a person have to have gone through for that not to hurt? Do I even want to know?
He shakes his head.
“Comparably, these were like bee stings.”
He undoes his belt, and rips it from his pants swiftly, the buckle jingling in the room, an alarming sound that makes me sit up in the tub, my arms no longer attempting to shield myself from his gaze. It’s useless.
He wraps the belt around one hand, and I swallow as I notice his pants hanging on his muscular waist, where a deep chiseled V shaped muscle trails into his pants where his dick rests, throbbing and hard.
“You seem … concerned.”
“That displeases you?”
With wide eyes, I gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t reveal one. The only thing he reveals is a genuine curiosity.
“I’m not keen to concern.”
“Not even from family?”
He scoffs at the word family.
“Especially from family,” He replies and spits the word like all he’s ever known from it was pain. He moves toward me, and my heart pounds angrily in my chest, restricting my breathing until I’m panting with wide eyes like a feral animal as he roughly grabs a hold of my wrists and binds the with the belt.
He does it so perfectly, he’s able to grip the tail of the belt and yank my arms up over my head so my breasts push outward and I’m powerless with only my legs to help me.
“Levi,” I address him, hoping his name will humanize the parts of him I see lingering on the dark side, but all that does is make his eyes flutter closed, his grip still firm on the belt, as he groans.
“I want to hear those lips screaming that name.”
The zipper from his pants moving downward is the loudest thing in the room since I’ve begun to hold my breathing.
“Levi, please –“ That sentence breaks off because I’m unsure of what I truly want to say. Please don’t? Please, gentle? There’s a pleading within me and I can’t exactly pinpoint it. I cling to it though, my fright unshielded in my eyes. His distaste is fierce as he yanks upward on the belt and my arms scream with pain.
He’s silent for what feels like forever, before he releases the belt, curses and whips around, stalking out of the bathroom.
I’ve disappointed him for the millionth time, but maybe he’s just being patient with me. Letting me get ready, because I’m sure once he has me the way he wants, it’ll set in a motion the sexual prowess I know he’s concealing.
When he doesn’t return, I assume he’s allowing me to take the rest of the bath in peace. I attempt to remove the belt. I have to use my teeth a little, the leather slides against them awkwardly, rubbing until the taste is heavy in my mouth, and it reminds me of him. Leather and musk.
I let the warm water seep into my skin after removing the belt and letting it clatter to the floor, for a few minutes until it become tepid and it no longer is comforting. I get out, listening closely for him.
Maybe he’s on the other side of the door, waiting to have me.
Wishful thinking steals my attention as I hope he’s been called away on some long business call in his office. I glance at my underwear, scooping it up off the floor before wrapping a towel around me and heading back out into his bedroom.
I’m surprised and maybe relieved that he’s not in his bedroom. I creep slowly back towards the hallway, frowning when I get out there and I hear him calling my name.
“Sasha, come down here.”
Oh boy.
I firm my lips nervously, descending the steps with the towel pulled tightly around me and my underwear awkwardly clutched in my grasp.
When I near the bottom of the stairs, I hear his voice again coming from the living room. I take careful steps towards the living room, looking up once I arrive. I gasp.
No fucking way.
I thought his guest – Silas – was intimidating.
My eyes shift over the five men lounging on different furniture pieces.
Levi – still nude from the waist up – widens his arms, a sadistic smirk on his lips.
“What’s going on?”
“Clientele.”
As soon as that word leaves his lips, I begin rapidly shaking my head and taking a step back. He moves towards me quickly, grabbing a hold of my arm, before I feel his lips hot and wet near my ear.
“If you won’t provide me what I paid for, then I will get use out of you another way. Do you understand?”
In that moment, I’m forced to decide what is the lesser of two evils.
It’s hard to decipher with a man as cold as Levi, but my choice is instantaneous.
I choose him.