“You’ll cut my hair first.” Tiago nodded at the trimmer kit on the table.
“Me?” She shrunk back in revulsion and glanced at Arturo. “Why can’t he do it?”
Arturo leaned against the wall, supervising her every move with a deceptively bored expression.
“I said you’re doing it.” He cast her a hard glare.
“You want to put scissors in my hands?”
“Yes, unless you know another way to cut hair.” He unzipped the black pouch full of barber accessories.
She stepped forward, eyes zeroing in on the shearing tools. When she reached his chair, her fingers floated over a pair of sharp blades, lifting them.
“Use this on the sides.” He removed the cordless clippers and set it on the table beside her.
She edged closer, but not close enough. He gripped her waist and tugged, wordlessly ordering her to stand in the V of his spread knees.
Her rigid, narrow-shouldered body felt surprisingly curvy beneath his hands. He pulled her another step into his space, and the tantalizing scent of her skin met his nose.
Goddamn, she smelled fantastic. His position in the chair put his face inches from her chest, and at this proximity, the white linen dress was see-through. If she knew he was ogling the supple rings of pink around her nipples, she would be mortified.
She had a modest way of holding herself, as if unaware of her beauty and the power it held over the opposite sex. Her innocence only made him harder.
As she lifted her hands near his head, the round shape of her tits filled his view, drying his mouth. A glance lower revealed the apex of her thighs and the shadowed patch of hair there. No panties. Fucking torture.
The dress fell to mid-thigh, and her bare cunt was right there for the taking. The idea locked things up inside him and scrambled his brain.
He jerked his attention back to her face. Her gaze narrowed on his hair, calm and astute. Her fingers flexed around the scissors, her hands hovering out to the sides.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked.
“Sometimes, I shave my asshole. This isn’t any different.”
Arturo choked on a laugh and coughed into his fist.
The mention of her asshole painted a glorious picture in Tiago’s mind—her body spread out before him, her little pucker taking his cock, clenching and dripping with his come.
She called to his testosterone, summoning the most primal part of him to mount, fuck, bite, cut, carve, and make her bleed.
He bit down on a groan, his skin hot and itchy. Christ, he was starting to sweat and needed to get a handle on this. On her.
Reaching up, he yanked down the top of her strapless dress and held the fabric tight around her waist.
“What are you doing?” She shrieked and flailed her arms.
He caught the hand that held the scissors, plucking them from her fingers.
“Stop!” She flattened her palms over her exposed chest and twisted, trying to escape his grip on her clothes. “Let go.”
He wrangled her arms down and restrained them behind her, holding her wrists in one fist. All that soft, feminine flesh was so damn tempting. He wanted to sink his teeth into her heaving tits, mark her, claim her. But that wasn’t how he did things.
Maybe he’d allow himself to touch her, but if anyone fucked her, it would be his guards.
“Do you think she’s pretty?” he asked Arturo.
“Very much, Jefe.”
She shook her head rapidly, her breaths coming hard and fast, bouncing her gorgeous rack.
He traced the scissors across the slope of one breast, taunting her as he asked his guard, “Do you want to fuck her?”
“More than anything.” Arturo stood straighter, interest smoldering in his eyes.
“No, please. Don’t do this.” She fought harder in his hold.
He yanked her against him and pressed the closed blades of the scissors against her pussy, with only the thin layer of linen between her delicate skin and the steel edge.
“If you cut me, draw blood, or disobey me in any way, Arturo will fuck your ass.” He adjusted his grip, angling the sharp tip against her tight, little opening. “When he’s finished, I’ll yank out that tampon and fuck your cunt with the scissors.”Oh God, oh fuck, oh fuck.
Kate’s breath escaped in a shuddering wave, and her heart banged painfully in her chest. Tiago’s ruthless grip on her wrists made her bones ache, but it was the scissors he held against her vulnerable flesh that had her shaking to the point of nausea.
“I won’t disobey you. I swear. I’ll do whatever you say.” She lifted on tiptoes, unable to escape the bite of steel between her legs. “Please. You’re scaring me.”
“Good.” He set the scissors on the table, released her hands, and combed his fingers through his hair. “Even up the sides and trim the top.”
Black spots blotched her vision, and she swayed on wobbly legs. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she fought the compulsion to cover her exposed breasts.