“I agree with you.”
“I bet you do.” He leaned forward and inhaled me. “I’m still wondering what I will do with you, and how I will get all of my money.”
I pulled up my confidence. “I. . .I still think my alternative will work. She does all the work.”
“Because she gets a cut.” He scowled. “A cut of my money.”
Well. . .it’s actually the guys’ money, but I won’t argue specifics.
“I would owe you her forty percent,” I said.
“Judging from that shitty hotel room, I doubt you can get me the funds in time.”
In time for what?
He pointed behind me. “Go take a shower.”
Do I really need to?
I looked behind me and spotted a small one in the corner next to the only wall that was made of wood. Happy to put more space between us, I hurried over to the shower, opened the glass door, and stepped inside.
When I got ready to close it, Cain caught the door. “Hurry up.”
When did he get over here?
He was too damn fast for me. In the hotel room, he’d fucking blurred to me like some supernatural being.
With my luck, he’s probably a vampire or something.
I twisted the knobs in front of me.
Cold water sprayed out. Jerking back, I shifted the other knob to heat it up. The shower water spilled out into a warm, comforting rain, soothing and steady. It awakened my shivering flesh. It rejuvenated me.
It felt so good, I stepped in closer to the warmth as if doing so would help me get stronger, let me fight another day.
Fuck. I forgot how much I missed this.
It had been several months since I’d taken a nice hot shower. All the hotel rooms that I could afford guaranteed a horrific shower experience. If the water wasn’t cold, then the pipes clanked and creaked. If the bathroom didn’t smell like mold, then everything from the knobs and door loudly squeaked.
Damn this is nice.
That same opera song flowed around me.
In my head, I sang those three words when I knew the singer would do it.
Una Furtiva Lagrima. . .
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of luxury, even though my captor watched me the whole time, twisting that knife in his hand.
Don’t look at him. Just enjoy the moment while you can.
I grabbed the bottle of soap and poured some on me. An earthy pine fragrance filled the air. It was similar to Cain’s scent.
Thinking of him, I glanced over my shoulder.
His gaze lay on my ass. And still, he twisted the knife as if imagining fucking me with the blade and wondering if I would moan.
I really would like him to put that knife away.
Scared, I turned my view back to the water.
His heated attention made me nervous and a little bit excited at the same time. Part of me thought that he hadn’t fucked in a while. Perhaps, if I gave him some pussy, I could get in his mind and seek some form of escape.
No. I better not play that game. Especially with the way he’s holding that knife.
The other part of me knew that he was the sort of man that fucked anytime he pleased. Surely, he had the looks and body. I was sure that bed on the altar had possessed many women.
He probably thinks he’s a god and bitches should worship his dick.
I smeared the soapy liquid all over my body.
His dark voice rose over the opera song. “Turn around.”
Why?
I tensed but did as he said. I’d been smearing liquid all over my breasts.
Lust filled his eyes.
Maybe, I really can get through to him with sex.
The thought intrigued and terrified me.
While I stripped, I’d never whored myself out. It was fine for strangers to look at my naked body, but to touch it was a different thing.
Could I let him fuck me if it meant my escape?
I continued to cover my breasts in the liquid. Bubbles formed around the mounds and slipped along my nipples. His gaze rested on those points. They stiffened from his attention.
I pinched my nipples.
Grunting, he twisted the knife.
He’s turned on for sure. But. . .pyscho-knife turned on. . .or will fuck me regular turned on?
I took a chance and massaged my breasts some more.
He licked his lips. “Get the other parts of your body too.”
Slowly, I slipped my hands down my sides.
His gaze followed.
I moved my hands over the curve of my hips and then slid to my pussy. I kept them there, without moving my fingers.
He kept his view on my hand and parted his lips.
In that moment, the singer loudly held a note.
The lyric rose high over everything.
I looked up at the ceiling as if the opera was playing above me.
“What. . .?” I turned my view to him and swallowed. “What is he saying right there?”
Cain didn’t move his gaze from my pussy. “Heaven, one could die. One could die of love.”