“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can be alone.”
“You could have asked me on a date.”
“Consider this a date.”
“Fuck you,” she barks.
“I’m trying to be patient, Little Bird, but you constantly testing me isn’t helping. I’m not the most gentlemanly. Don’t test me again."
“You literally tied my hands with your belt and took away my sight. I’m pretty vulnerable here. How can I be sure you won’t harm me?”
“You have my word that no harm will come to you. You’re completely safe with me.”
“Can I get something to drink?”
I open the car's fridge and pour two glasses of champagne. “You like champagne?”
“Who doesn’t?”
I bring one flute to her lips. “Open.”
“You can’t possibly expect me to let a man I barely know pour unknown liquid in my mouth. How can I be sure you haven’t drugged me?”
“Open your mouth, Clarissa, or I will pry it open for you.”
She sits there, mouth clamped shut. My control slips, and my anger rises, taking hold of me. I take a swig of the liquid, holding it in my mouth. If she wants to be difficult, so be it. I hold her head in one hand while I pinch her nose, restricting her airway. I am grateful that I can’t see her eyes, so I can’t see the knowledge in them. I’m a monster. When she can’t hold her breath any longer and opens her mouth, I lean down and spill the liquid from my mouth into hers. She swallows most of it, but a tiny drop glides from the corner of her mouth. I bend down and trace it with my tongue and hear Clarissa sigh.
“You turned on, Little Bird?”
“No.”
I glide my finger along her collarbone and stop just above her cleavage. “Is that why your breathing is so heavy? Why is your mouth slightly parted, as if waiting for my cock?”
“It’s fear, you asshole, not lust.”
Using my knee I nudge her legs apart. . I feel the heat from her pussy, knowing that if I touched her, she would drench my hand. Leaning down, I nip at her earlobe, enough to get her attention but not enough for it to hurt, and whisper, “Is that why your nipples are hard as rocks and your pussy is soaking wet?”
Chapter 8
CLARISSA
Anger is boiling in me and it’s about to erupt. I don’t know who Vance thinks he is. The asshole abducted me, tied me up, spat in my mouth, and had the nerve to point out how wet I was. The thing is, he isn’t lying about it, and that’s what really pisses me off. I am turned on—really turned on. I’m like Niagara Falls, gushing at everything this man does and says.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
Vance hasn’t spoken since he rudely pointed out how my body was a treacherous slut, ditching every ounce of pride for some dick. His dick. I'm not sure if I like the silence or hate it. On the one hand, it’s nice not to feel like I’m going to burn up either by his words or his touch, but it’s driving me crazy that he isn’t paying me attention.
“We are here, sir,” that prick Tony says when the car stops. I’m not sure if Tony really is a prick; he could be a very nice guy, but since he helped Vance do this to me, I will call him a prick.
I hear shuffling and a car door open as a cool breeze pricks at my skin before it slams shut.
“Fucker, you gonna just keep me in the car,” I demand before another door opens and a firm hand tugs at the belt cuffs.
“Easy… I don’t want you falling again,” Vance says.
I slowly get out of the car, heeding his words. His firm hands move torturously slowly along my arm, making me shiver. I hear the fucker chuckle. He knows exactly how I’m reacting because his eyes seemed to watch me like a hawk. Once he reaches my head, his fingers curl into my hair, tugging gently. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”
I nod as his fingers remove the obstruction from my eyes, making his dark blue eyes the first thing I see.
The heat of his stare is so intense that I feel like he could light me on fire. I’m not sure what to do with the emotions this man evokes in me. The sensations of fear, want, and need tumble within me until they have made some sort of toxic concoction.
I am not sure if I want to fuck him, kiss him, beat him, or run away from him. His eyes bore into mine, his lips turning up into a callous smile, as if he knows what I am thinking.
“All in good time, Little Bird,” he whispers, sending goose bumps along my flesh and a jolt of electricity right to my clit. If the man can do this voodoo with words, I wonder what he can do with touch.