8
Wren stares at me like she would love nothing more than to rip my throat out with her bare hands. I believe she’d do it too.
What kind of man does it make me if that shit turns me on?
“Are you going to be good, little bird?” I ask, waiting to hear the tell-tale sound of the door clicking behind me. Ryker wasn’t really going to stand in here with her, no, no, no one else gets to see her like this.
I try to think back to all the prisoners I’ve held in my keep and allowed them the comfort I’ve given her, but I think of none. The people I bring here are here for one reason. To die.
They’ve fucked up somehow and are being punished or they’re simply a means to an end, just like Wren here is. Only I shouldn’t be allowing her to shower, I shouldn’t be feeding her and making sure she has comfort beneath her back and yet here I am, allowing her just that.
She glares at me, the rims of her nostrils flaring as she takes steady breaths.
“I’m going to uncuff you now,” I tell her, “You’ll be wise to behave yourself.”
I cross the space between us and go behind her back, slotting the key into the cuffs, waiting for the click of the locking mechanism to release and then I pull them away. Red welts mark her flawless skin and she rubs at her wrists, fingers pushing against the marks.
My chest twinges.
What the fuck?
“Strip.”
“Are you serious? You’re not going to allow me some dignity?”
I quirk a brow. “No.”
“Turn around.”
“No.”
A puff of air huffs from her mouth. “Why don’t you just kill me now, huh?” She hollers, “You’re gonna do it anyway, just get it over with!”
“All in time, little bird.”
She visibly swallows, the first show of fear she’s given me since I took her all those days ago. I don’t like it.
But I don’t like this feeling anymore either. There’s something wrong with me, there has to be. The sickness that rolls in my gut, the twinges in my chest, I must be coming down with something. Just what I need.
I step forward.
“Touch a single finger on my body, Silver and I’ll break every single bone in your hand.”
“Don’t kid yourself little bird,” my hand cups her chin, fingers pressing into the soft tissue on her cheeks, “If I were to press these hands to any part of your body it’s because you’ve begged me for it. You’ve pleaded.”
Despite the hand that holds her face she still manages to lift her chin defiantly, showing me that pretty face.
“By the time a single finger runs through your pussy, you’ll be slick and wet and wanting for what I’d have to give you.”
Her eyes widen and her throat works on a swallow. I don’t miss the way her thighs tremble, begging to be pressed together, if only to ease the ache between her legs. I can practically smell her arousal and that shit ain’t good.
My cock jerks, fully prepared to slide balls deep inside of her and have her screaming my name.
“You want that little bird?” I tease through gritted teeth, my fingers pressing harder.
“Stop calling me that,” She breathes, no heat to her words. She secretly likes it and hates that she does.
It’s no doubt confusing being attracted to me. The man that almost killed her only a few days ago, the same man that kidnapped her and strapped her to a bed in a strange house, giving little to no information as to why.