ELEANOR
The entire living room was filled with soft, echoing melodies as Armando turned on the music. Something smooth, gentle, but somehow suffocating too. I didn’t want to be here. Not in this situation, not in his arms, not anywhere near him. It felt like everything was slipping out of my control-even the littlest of things.
My life wasn’t my own anymore-every decision was being made for me. Everyone else had a say except me.
I glanced around the living room, noticing the space. It was just the two of us in this massive mansion.
Armando’s men were outside, probably stationed like statues around the compound while here on the inside was quiet, except for the music which made everything else louder. The silence between us, the tension in the air-it all seemed amplified by the melody.
Armando stepped closer, and before I knew it, his arms were around me. I froze, every part of me going still. He looked down at me, his eyes piercing mine, locking me in place. His grip was firm, like he had no intention of letting me go.
I swallowed hard, realizing the only option I had was to play along. I was stuck with him. There was no escaping it now.
“Relax,” he said, his voice low but commanding.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I tried to focus on moving my feet and not tripping over myself. Armando guided me, showing me the steps as well as leading me through the motions.
To my surprise, it wasn’t as awkward as I thought it’d be. I wasn’t tripping or stumbling anymore. His hands were strong but controlled, and somehow, he was a good teacher.
“You’re getting the hang of it,” he said after a few moments, his voice almost soft, though I could hear the satisfaction underneath it.
“Thanks,” I muttered, not really meaning it. I just wanted this to be over.
But then something strange happened. As we moved together, left, right and across the wide expanse of his living room, I started to feel… okay.
It wasn’t so bad. The music, the rhythm-it was almost calming. A small, barely noticeable smile tugged at the corner of my lips, and I let myself enjoy the moment, just for a second.
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes again. But I couldn’t read him. His face was blank, impossible to figure out. Whatever he was thinking, I couldn’t tell.
The man was like a brick wall.
And then, without warning, he pulled me closer. His hand slid from my waist, pulling me tightly into his chest. I froze, completely thrown off.
My heart raced, but not from fear this time. I didn’t know what it was. I just knew I was lost in the feel of his body pressed against mine, strong and unyielding.
I didn’t want this, or maybe I did-I couldn’t tell anymore. The confusion was suffocating, but somehow I stayed there, in his arms, unable to pull away.
My body betrayed me, clinging to him even as my mind screamed at me to get away.
I kept staring at him, but I couldn’t form a single word. I was speechless, caught in this strange space between anger and desire, frustration and something deeper that I didn’t want to name. Why was I reacting like this? Why did my body seem to want the very man who had taken everything from me?
It didn’t make sense-none of it did. But there I was, holding onto him like I didn’t want to let go.
Armando seemed to notice something shift.
He loosened his grip slightly, giving me space to step back and break free, but I didn’t. I stayed close, still pressed against him, not even realizing I had the chance to move.
I didn’t want to. Not in that moment.
I felt my breath hitch, my thoughts spinning in a hundred directions. This was wrong, so wrong.
But at the same time, I couldn’t deny that a part of me-the part I didn’t want to admit existed-wanted more.
It scared me. It made me feel sick. But I couldn’t stop it.
Armando watched me closely, his face still unreadable. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.
I blinked, trying to find the words. “Nothing,” I answered, my voice barely a whisper.
He tilted his head slightly, still holding me, still keeping me close. “You’re not acting like someone who hates me.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to take a breath.
His gaze never left mine, sharp and intense. “Maybe you should stop thinking so much.”
I laughed, but it wasn’t out of humor. It was out of pure disbelief at the absurdity of this situation. “Stop thinking?” I repeated. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Armando’s lips curled into the slightest smile. “Maybe it is. But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
I didn’t respond, because deep down, I knew he was right. Thinking too much was exactly what got me into this mess. Thinking too much was what kept me trapped in this cycle of wanting to escape and yet… feeling drawn to him in ways I didn’t understand.
I stayed there, pressed against him, waiting for something to happen, waiting for him to let me go or for me to pull away. But neither of us moved. And for the first time, I didn’t want to.
Armando’s hands slid from my waist, moving lower, his touch deliberate and slow. I could feel every inch of it, the way his fingers caressed my hips and then, without hesitation, moved to my ass.
He didn’t stop staring at me, his eyes dark and unreadable, and for a moment I thought I saw something else there. Maybe desire, maybe something else-I couldn’t tell, and it frustrated me.
I gasped, unable to control my reaction. My body had already betrayed me completely. I was panting, trying to get a grip on the flood of emotions running through me. My brain screamed at me to stop, to pull away, to not give in. But every other part of me-my heart, my body, even my soul-was screaming for something else entirely.
I hesitated for a moment. I knew this was wrong.
He was the man who bought me, the man who treated me like a possession. But in this moment, I didn’t seem to care.
I leaned in slowly, almost without thinking, and wrapped my arms around him. His body was warm, solid, and the moment my hands touched him, it felt like something inside me cracked. We continued turning, moving in slow, deliberate circles around the room.
Our faces were inches apart, close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin.
I looked into his eyes again, still searching for any hint of what he was thinking. But he gave me nothing, just that intense, unreadable stare that made my heart race faster than I wanted to admit.
We turned again, our movements slow and careful, and every second that passed seemed to draw us even closer. Our faces were nearly touching now, and I could feel my breath catching in my throat. The space between us was closing, and with each moment, the air around us seemed to get thicker, heavier, like it was waiting for something to happen.
I didn’t know what to do. My mind was spinning, but it was like the world around us had stopped. Everything had come to a standstill, like time itself was waiting for me to make a choice.
It felt like this was the moment where it had all been building up to, where I would either pull away and regain control, or lean in and let whatever this was happen.
Armando’s gaze never wavered, and his hands didn’t move from where they rested on me. He was waiting too. I could see it in his eyes-he wasn’t going to make the next move. He was leaving it up to me.
My heart pounded so loudly in my chest that I was sure he could hear it. My hands tightened slightly around him, and I couldn’t help but lean in just a fraction more.
We were so close now that all it would take was one small move to change everything.