Thirty-six

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Brutal air splashes my skin and tears threaten to fall through my eyes. This is not okay! I hate him! I hate that he can see everything I never wish anyone to see. I hate that I can't do anything about it because he's got the upper hand.

So I wait. I wait as I crumble inside.

His rough knuckles brush against my cheek. My eyes shut in response; wetness slides through the corners of my eyes. He's now seated on the bed, his hip next to my head. I want to bolt and jog out of his restraints but I know my efforts will be in vain.

"Open your eyes," he says coldly.

I close them tighter.

Not because I'm in the mood to defy him, or to be rebellious as he thinks, but rather because I simply can't do otherwise. If I look at him right now, I'm afraid I'll hate him further. He'll take the last thread of my confidence left in me.

For good this time.

"I said open your eyes and look at me!" he thunders, and automatically my eyes fly open.

"Let me go, Adrian," I whisper in my most desperate voice, pleading.

The frown on his face doesn't seem to be a result of anger. On the contrary, I see nothing but uttermost concerns glinting in his eyes.

"Why do you want to go?" he gently demands. I glance away, too angered to answer him. "I ask, you answer, Arabella. Are we clear? If not there's no way I'm giving your leeway back and we have the whole weekend to play if that's how you'd love me to call it."

Bastard! I know he ain't bluffing so I glare back at him.

"I hate that I'm like this," I confess, sniffling my sorrows away.

His eyes harden. "Like what?"

"This naked! I feel degraded. Why are you doing this to me, huh? I hate seeing myself naked, Adrian! I don't want to be here! Why are—" I'm shut by his lips.

What the fuck! My brain fails to register any emotion as he deepens the kiss while leaning over me, his warm skin scorching against mine as his solid chest squashes my breasts.

Instead of repelling, my mouth seems to have a mind of its own. At the fraction of the time, my body eases and succumbs to his touch, and my mind retreats from fear and worries.

I let him kiss me, his tongue deep in my throat, and the barricades of my inner walls crumble when desire fills me as though on a threshold to burst. But it doesn't last. He gently draws back and looks me in the eyes.

"Do you know how difficult it is for me to resist touching you right now, Arabella?" he asks in a deep voice, ragging my breath.

He's panting, deep dark desire clouding his eyes like a midnight winter rainstorm. Foreboding yet soothing. He's propped on his one elbow, partially leaning over me, and his face is right above mine.

"No, I don't," I murmur breathlessly.

Responsively, his large hand wanders on my breasts, touching and nibbling them expertly, one after another, and gently he plays with my nipples, ever slowly and patiently, until they turn hard and pointed. Desire floods my worries.

I moan softly, and a sharp throb caught between my legs. I close my eyes the moment his mouth closes around one etched nipple. He sucks it hard until pain shoots through me, but I get no time to react as he gently rubs a wet tongue over it.

Eyes open, a heavy breath escapes me.

What the hell is he doing to me?

"This, Arabella," he says softly with a playful smile. "I could do this over and over again if you lay in front of me naked. Do you know why? It's because I love what I see. I fucking love your soft breasts, your round ass, and your wider hips. I love everything you consider a flaw."

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