She had the covers pulled up to her chin, making sure that I couldn’t see any part of her. The way she was looking at me—the fear in her eyes—I knew she was just waiting for me to launch into something awful. I had no intention of hurting her, none at all, but part of me was pissed that she’d even think that way about me. Fuck, she’d been the one to arrest me all those times; she knew better than anyone that I wasn’t exactly the human–trafficking type.
“Does anyone know I’m here?” Her voice was soft, her eyes wide as she spoke. She looked so different than what I was used to seeing from her. The last few times we’d encountered each other, she’d been in full uniform, hair scraped back into a ponytail beneath her standard–issue hat and every wrinkle ironed out of her clothes. She looked softer now, with her dark hair curling down to her shoulders, the strap of the dress shifted slightly to the side so that I could almost see her nipple. She noticed it and shifted so that she was – well, as decent as she could be in that horror show – then looked to me for an answer.
“No one, except the guys who were there last night,” I replied. I didn’t know what I was planning to do with her—I mean, I had no intentions of hurting her, but it wasn’t like I could go back on straight–up purchasing a woman from an auction. And what, would those guys vouch for me? They probably thought I’d spent the whole night peeling her out of that dress and getting her to bend to my every whim. They had no reason to think I wasn’t.
“So there are witnesses?” She raised her eyebrows. I could tell she was testing me, and I bristled in annoyance. Damn, I was trying to help her out, and here she was, treating me as though I was nothing more than some kind of rapist piece of shit.
“Yeah, but good luck getting any of them to testify,” I replied tersely, running my hand over my head as I spoke. “If anyone asks them, they’ll say that you left with me of your own accord.”
“The fuck?” She wrinkled her nose up. “But they—“
“Unless they have a kink for getting arrested for human trafficking, you’re not going to get any of them on your side.” I held my hands up, a mock–apologetic expression on my face. “Sorry to break it to you.”
“Shit,” she muttered to herself, and I could see the flash of panic across her face. She quickly wiped it clean and turned back to me.
“If you let me go now, I won’t tell anyone about this,” she tried to reason with me, her tone soft and encouraging. “Just…let me walk out of here. No questions asked.”
“Yeah, sure,” I agreed. “And let you take me in for the fourth time?”
She pursed her lips at me briefly, and I could tell she was pissed that her attempts to get around me weren’t exactly successful.
“Besides,” I pointed out. “No one’s going to testify that you didn’t leave with me of your own accord. You want that attached to your permanent record? That you hooked up with a criminal you’d arrested a bunch of times? That you just couldn’t resist my bad–boy charm?”
She flopped down on the bed, and I could see her mind ticking over, trying to slot the pieces together. She was probably still half out of it from whatever drugs they’d given her while she was being held backstage. I was stunned, to be honest, that she was even slightly coherent. I watched as she tried to come up with another way out of this, and failed. She was resigned.
“Why the fuck did you buy me?” She muttered. “You must hate me more than anyone in the world.”
“You’re goddamn right,” I agreed. I didn’t want to admit, not even to her, that I hadn’t done this out of some sense of revenge. I couldn’t say it aloud to her, not yet. Because then I would have to admit the real reason that I’d done this. And coming to terms with that—a notion that had been beating around the back of my head for as long as I could remember, since I’d first met Thaddeus all those years ago—was harder than keeping her on the hook for a few minutes longer.
“Can I have a shower?” She asked, looking around. “I feel gross.”
“Bathroom’s through here,” I jerked my head to the door next to me. “Do whatever. But I’m coming in there with you.”
“What? No!” She staring at me as though I’d told her I was going to pull out her fingernails one by one, which was particularly funny in that ridiculous failure of a dress
“You’re not getting away that easily,” I raised my eyebrows at her. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“What, you think I was gonna—“
“Try and climb out the window and make a run for it? Yeah, more or less.” I filled in the blanks for her. “Remember, you arrested me all those times. I know exactly what you’re capable of, and you’re not getting away from me that easy.”
“Fine,” she muttered. “Do you have a robe or something I can change into? This dress…”
She plucked at the pleather tersely, clearly pissed that it was even still on her body. I let out a sigh and shrugged.
“Sure,” I reached into the wardrobe that was sitting next to me, and quickly went through the handful of clothes I’d dumped in there the night before. I tossed her a t–shirt, one big and baggy enough to cover her up, Well, mostly.
“Take this,” I suggested. She held it up in front of her and inspected it for a moment, looking grossed out by the thought of wearing it in front of me. But it was better than the dress—even she seemed to recognize that—and she clambered out of bed and made a dash for the bathroom.
“Can I at least get undressed in peace?” she shouted at me, and I ran my hands over my face. Goddamn, but why did she have to make things so fucking difficult?
“Sure,” I sighed. I listened carefully, making sure she kept the door open as she stripped down; I caught sight of the red dress landing in the doorway, and felt my cock stirring in my pants. Fuck. I had to fight the urge to peer around the door and catch sight of her. I heard her climbing into the shower and switching it on, and tugging the curtain across for a little privacy.
“You can come in now,” she called, and I entered the bathroom, putting down the seat and perching on the edge. I could see the shape of her through the curtain; I was just looking to make sure she wasn’t trying to pull off any bullshit, I told myself, that was it. I certainly wasn’t eyeing her up, watching the way her slim form moved back and forth behind the curtain. The light was streaming through the window in such a way that I could make out her silhouette almost perfectly; she couldn’t see me looking, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I forced myself to look away, and my gaze landed on the panties that were sitting, cast aside, on the floor only a few inches from my feet. They were very small and plain, black cotton. I was bewildered that she’d managed to hide them under the bandage of that dress, but clearly she had, somehow. I imagined her ass in them, imagined inching them down her gorgeous body once and for all…
I shook the thoughts from my head. I was just horny after deciding to white–knight it out of the club the evening before. I didn’t want her, I just wanted someone. My dick was rock hard in my jeans now, and it just made sense to reach down and squeeze the head through the rough denim. Not like that would make it any easier to wait. After all, I had paid for her. I had kept her safe. I found myself thinking of stepping into the shower and taking what I’d paid for – and then she pulled back the curtain.