It’s two in the morning when I get to the penthouse. I’ve been thinking about my pretty little captive all night. My dick’s been hard with all the things I plan to do with her in the next month.

Although how tonight went down still baffles me. Why did I react the way I did to her? It’s not like me. On the other hand, I’d rather fuck a beautiful woman than break some asshole’s legs.

I dismiss the man standing beside the girl’s door and pour myself a whiskey as I strip off my jacket and tie, and undo the top buttons of my black button down. I make my way down the hall to her room. Turn the key in the lock. Push the door open. The lights are still on but she must have been asleep because she startles awake. She’s still got her coat on and I spy the torn stockings on her feet. She rights herself. She must have been sitting up waiting for me. But I’m not fool enough to think she did it because she couldn’t wait for me to show up.

I stand back and sweep the arm that’s holding the drink toward the hallway. I’m wound up from the club. Need a little release before bed. There’s never a shortage of women willing to suck me off, but I saved myself for her tonight. I wonder if she’d be grateful if I told her.

I decide not to.

Meanwhile, she’s still sitting on the bed, arms folded across herself.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t reply with words, just a glare.

“Where’s my brother?”

“Safe.”

“How do I know?”

“I give you my word.”

“Like I said, how do I know?”

I feel my eyes narrow and bite back my response. She’s already scared, no need to terrify her. It’s right she’d have questions.

Only I don’t like being questioned.

I take a step inside and drain my glass, watching her as I do. “I guess you’ll have to trust me. What choice do you have?”

“I don’t. You took that away.”

“No, that’s not accurate. You decided. You chose. And you can walk out of here anytime you like.”

“At what price?”

“You can figure that out, can’t you?”

“My brother.”

“You’re smarter than him. I can already tell. Now get up.”

She drags her legs underneath her so she’s kneeling up. “I have a job, you know.”

“Good for you. I’m going to ask you nicely once more because you’re new here. Get. The. Fuck. Up.”

She considers, and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed that she does as I say and slides off the bed still holding her coat tight to her.

“Let’s go have a drink.” I stand aside, gesturing to the hallway again.

She moves, keeping her eyes on me as she passes and walks out into the hall.

I’m behind her, herding her to the living room. Once there, I pour her a whiskey and refresh mine. Handing it to her, I take a seat on the couch, leaning sideways, one arm splayed out over the back.

She stands awkwardly, holding her drink, unsure what to do.

“Drink it.”

She takes a swallow, squeezes her eyes shut as it burns her throat. I smile.

“All of it.”

She obviously isn’t a whiskey drinker but she’ll be more pliant with it in her. I wait while she drinks it down, making faces all along.

“Put the glass there.” I point to the side table.

She obeys.

“Now let’s see what’s under that coat.”

She starts trembling, her eyes going wide. They’re a pretty shade of green, their brightness a stark contrast under the thick bangs of her almost black hair.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Right now, I’m just going to watch you strip. Don’t make me do it for you. You won’t like that. Understand?”

She nods, or it’s a tremble I mistake for a nod, but her hands move and she begins to unbutton her coat. It takes her a long time, she’s shaking so hard, but eventually, she manages, and slides it off, then holds it in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Put it down there.” I point to a chair. I could give a fuck where she puts it but she needs specific instructions right now.

Once she’s set the coat down, she stands waiting.

“Go on. Everything off.” I sip my whiskey. Give her time to process.

She reaches back to unhook her bra and slowly slips the straps from her shoulders. She covers her tits as long as possible, but eventually, she has to let it drop. I wait, patient because watching her fight her inevitable submission is as arousing as seeing her naked. As imagining how her mouth is going to feel wrapped around my dick.

It takes her a full five minutes before she’s standing with her arms at her sides, her eyes on a point somewhere beyond my shoulder.

“You need a lot of prompting. Most women are more…enthusiastic.”

“Why don’t you go find one of those women then?”

“Good one.” I sip, studying her, then shrug a shoulder. “They’re a dime a dozen. But you, Cilla—Jones told me you go by Cilla, is that right?” I don’t wait for her to answer. “You will make the next month interesting.” I drink another swallow. “Now show me your pussy.”

She flushes red and it takes all I have not to laugh out loud. She strips off each stocking then slips her hands into the waistband of her panties and pushes them off, the swift movement angry. She balls it up and throws it at me.

“Happy?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.

I catch her panties, bring them to my nose and inhale deeply. I let out a satisfied moan.

Her eyes go wide as she watches me. I guess she wasn’t expecting that. I’m a dirty fuck though. She’ll learn that soon enough.

I fold up the panties, tuck them into my pocket. I slide my gaze slowly to her pretty little pussy and examine it while she shifts on her feet.

“Hardly,” I say in response to her earlier question. I painstakingly drag my gaze back up to hers, rise, walk to stand an inch from her. Her hands splay out on my chest to stop me from coming closer. Our eyes locked, I close my fingers over her pussy making her gasp. I’m surprised at the moisture, at the scent of arousal coming off her.

But I don’t care about that just now. Now, I want her to heel.

I curl my fingers in the hair and tug. She winces, pushes at me.

“Do I need to teach you how to be respectful?”

She swallows. I squeeze.

“Do I?”

She shakes her head.

“Words.”

“No.”

I hold on a moment longer, then release her and step back.

“Good.”

When I walk to the side table to refresh my drink, she remains standing awkwardly where she is. I resume my seat and sip. She wipes at her reddened eyes.

“Now turn around.”

She does, and maybe she’s glad to hide her face, so it’s a win-win. I get a view of her gorgeous ass and she can hide from me when I give the next instruction.

“Spread your legs and bend over.”

Her hands fly to her face and I can just imagine the expression on it. I sip my drink and give her a minute before reminding her of our deal.

“Anything. Remember that? You said you’d do anything. Are you changing your mind?” I grin, imagining her mortification. “Bend over and show me everything.”

She continues to stand there, drops her arms to her sides. I think she’s going to do it, she’s building herself up, maybe giving herself a pep talk. What the fuck do I know? What the fuck do I care?

“Cilla.”

Her hands fist at her sides, knuckles going white, and slowly, she turns to face me, her green eyes narrowed to cutting slits.

“You’re a bully. You’re no better than some rapist in a dark alley.”

Everything changes in that moment. As soon as she utters that word, my vision goes red. I hear the pop of glass shattering, feel the sharp pain of shards slicing my hand, the liquor mixing with blood. She screams as I rise but strangely, my heartbeat hasn’t changed. It hasn’t accelerated. I’m calm. Controlled.

But at the same time, so completely out of control.

I take a step toward her and she takes off down the hall. I follow, stalking slowly, deliberately. She throws one look over her shoulder and slips into her room. I’m close though, so that when she slams the door, it bounces off the toe of my shoe.

She screams, backing away, stumbling, falling backwards on the floor.

“I’m not your whore!”

She scrambles up, frantically looking for something, anything she can defend herself with. But she’s no match for me. I’m about to drive that point home.

“You’re exactly my whore,” I say, each word deliberate. I wrap a hand around her throat, and, pressing her backward onto the bed, climb up to straddle her, trapping her thighs between my knees. I lean my face close to hers. I know what she sees in my eyes terrifies her. I see it.

“I’m not a rapist. You agreed. You knew exactly what you were getting into. What you put on offer.”

She’s clawing at my forearm, opening and closing her mouth. I squeeze, and she brings one hand to my face, her nails scratch my cheek, drawing blood.

Blood.

I blink.

I see it on her neck too from where my hand is bleeding from the broken glass. It’s on her face. Her chest. Wherever my hands have been.

Her arm falls away and I look at her eyes. I release her throat, slide off the bed. She rolls onto her side coughing, gasping for breath. I take a step back, watching her, looking at the blood on her, on myself.

Giving a confused grunt, I turn, walk to the door. I stop there, my back to her. I run my hands over my face, through my hair. I force my legs to move, to get out of her room. Because I don’t know what I’ll do to her if I don’t get the fuck out of her room.

Without turning back, I take hold of the doorknob. “Don’t come out, understand? Do not come out of this room.”

I slam the door shut and go into the living room, then through it and out onto the balcony. I don’t care that it’s pouring rain. That wind whips me like a lash. I don’t care. I stand in it, letting it wash away the blood. Letting it pelt my face. I stand in it and remember and I can’t think about anything else. Not the terrified girl in the bedroom. Not the fact that I almost killed her. Nothing.

Because all I see is blood. So much fucking goddamned blood.