Her eyes widened like saucers, and as she heard his filthy words, she could hardly catch her breath.
“Very good, I am sure I’m right,” he chuckled lightly, his mocking gaze fixed on her.
Her ears burned, uncertain if she now resembled a little girl caught doing something wrong, a girl blushing so deeply it seemed as though blood might drip from her cheeks. His words made her feel indignant, yet his words, his tattoos, his scars, and his masculinity stirred a different emotion within her, creating an unusual sensation for his roughness, danger, and disturbing allure. She was now boiling with excitement. Goodness, she was actually a bad girl. His humiliating words excited her, and she found herself involuntarily imagining how wonderful it would be to feel his rough and large hand slap her buttocks.
No! Wait! What was she thinking?
He had just spoken some vulgar words to her, and she was daydreaming about something else?
She was only lamenting how accurate he was! Yes! That must be it.
Especially the last part.
“You’re disgusting,” she spat.
“But you like it, don’t you?”
Suddenly, Enzo’s strong hand slid over her buttocks. When she felt his fingers caressing the exposed skin between the bottom of her blouse and the top of her skirt, she shuddered. His hand hesitated there, and with a firm grip, he made her body tremble.
She hated how wet she felt, how a part of her body seemed to respond eagerly. No! She couldn’t.
She must be unwell, seriously unwell. Her body was like those seductive dancers in the red-light district, striking alluring poses, inviting him closer, no matter what he did, her body was saying “yes,” while her mind was clear, telling herself “no.” Her mind wanted him to stop. But she also wanted him to continue. She wanted him to let her go, yet she also wanted his dirty hands to remain on her skin.
She closed her eyes, the room spinning. She felt herself melting under his rough touch.
Suddenly, Enzo’s hand stopped, his muscles tensed, and she opened her eyes.
She screamed as he suddenly pulled her up, throwing her onto his muscular shoulder, and began crossing the room. When she realized they were heading toward his bed, she gasped, finally understanding the man’s intentions in bringing her back here.
Damn it.
Under the influence of adrenaline, alcohol, and this wild night, she wildly kissed this man. When she was thrown onto the bed, she sobered up, shattered her own fantasy, pushed away the man she had kissed like a madwoman, and realized that he was a dangerous man who had kidnapped her and brought her here against her will.
Enzo pushed her onto the bed. She thought she would resist, she thought she would protest, but she did something she never expected.
She cried.
Tears flowed hotly, streaming down her cheeks, choking her throat.
“Please,” she gasped, curling up. “Please don’t do this.”
She tightly shut her eyes, and the room fell silent.
Only her sobbing.
After a while, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her, frowning, lips tightly sealed. He shook his head.
“Who the hell do you think I am?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Say.”
“I don’t know!” she screamed. “A bad person!”
When he lunged at her, she gasped, his arms reaching out on either side of her, half hanging over her on the bed.
“You’re right, little girl,” he roared, making her heart jump into her throat. “I am a bad person. I am a very bad person.” His hands moved to her wrists, her rebellious body betraying her again, trembling as she heard the baritone voice near her ear.
“But I’m not that kind of bad person.”
His strong hands pulled her arms over her head. He grabbed a rope-fabric, not plastic-securely tying it around one wrist and looping it around the metal of the bedstead, then doing the same to the other wrist.
Then he stood up, grabbing more ties, doing the same to her ankles, leaving her facing away from the bed.
“Please,” she whispered. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on her. “But if you damage my furniture again, we’ll be in trouble.”
He turned, walking quickly to the other side of the room. He flicked a switch, turning off her half of the lights, then slumped onto a sofa.
The adrenaline ebbed away. The alcohol seeped out of her body. Slowly, her eyelids turned to cement.
She slowly let her body sink into the darkness.
In her dream, he forcefully pressed her onto the bed, using his warmlips to steal the air from her mouth. He held her hands above her head, preventing her resistance.
Moving down her neck, her sweatshirt was lifted to reveal her chest, and he buried his head between two snow-white peaks, leaving his saliva on her skin.
Enzo’s rough hands tore off her bra, cupping her breasts, kneading them repeatedly. Then, he kissed her mouth again, savoring her lips.
She could feel him between her legs, and as his hands roamed the junction of her thighs, she couldn’t help but whimper.
Roughly pulling off her panties, he dragged them down to her knees and spread her legs with his thighs, using his hard protrusion to tease her wetness.
She gasped, feeling weightless, her head spinning with dizziness. Her blood boiled as his lips bit, sucked, and nibbled at her chest, then down her soft and flat stomach.
Kissing her sex, she felt herself becoming wet, her face surely flushed. She was falling in love with this sensation.
Breathless, almost unable to breathe, primal desire pulsed within her. She craved this.
“Turn over, lift your butt,” he commanded.
She couldn’t refuse him, slowly turning over, presenting to him that glistening and mysterious garden. As she felt that burning thing rubbing against her garden, she became excited, moaning and writhing.
She wanted him.