Chapter 10

Kristen

Leo is a fucking asshole and a shit stain of a human being. First, he roofies me, then he tries to fucking sell me at some flesh auction, and then the man fucking buys me.

He fucking bought me.

I’m not a fucking commodity that can be fucking purchased and used, goddammit! So why, for the love of God, can I not stop thinking about him?

Or stop wanting him?

“Ugh,” I groan as I close my eyes and let the shower beat down upon my face.

The hot water feels soothing and relaxing, and it certainly helps the pain in my shoulders. But it does abso-fucking-lutely nothing to deter these thoughts racing through my mind. If anything, it makes it worse.

I don’t even realize that my fingers are tweaking at my pert nipples until a gentle moan spills from my lips. Hastily, I slide my fingers through my hair and let out a heavy sigh.

Stop it, Kristen! You shouldn’t be thinking about this asshole. You shouldn’t want him…

But I do. Evidently, assholes really do turn me on.

I know I shouldn’t be thinking about him, and what he would do to me—if he was just a tad bit less noble than he is—but I am.

My hands move from my hair and down over my hardened nipples again. Another moan slips past my lips as my fingers pull more firmly at my pert buds—just as if Leo’s the one doing it.

I let my other hand slide further down my body and over my taut stomach until I reach my clit. I’m wet as fuck…and it isn’t because of the shower.

My imagination runs away from me, and I don’t bother to stop it this time. This time I relish it.

Immediately, my mind goes back to hanging in that dark room. Leo cut away my clothing so that I’m only in my heels and he traces his fingers over my naked body as if molding me from clay.

From the shadows, we are watched by a horde of faceless men who observe him caressing me with reckless abandon, as if he already owned me before they arrived.

The length of my finger slides against the tip of my clit, and I lean back against the cool tile of the shower’s wall. The sudden cold against my skin sends a shiver down my spine that only enhances the tender massaging of my clit.

I picture Leo’s knee between my thighs, forcing them apart so that he can move his hand between them and rub my clit with this thumb, his fingers dipping inside me. I can almost hear the smiles on the faceless men as I moan at Leo’s touch. It’s exhilarating, and oh-so-wrong, but I don’t care—it’s fucking hot.

A warm flush surges through my body at the thought, and I mirror it by sliding my own finger in between the folds of my lips and inside me. The sensation has me moaning—huskier and louder than before.

The thought of Leo’s fingers filling me as his lips hungrily nip and bite at my neck makes my stomach clench with excitement. I imagine him taunting me as his fingers delve deeper inside…exploring me as I fight fruitlessly against him.

“Not so sassy now, are you? Where’s that rapier-like wit now, Miss Jones?” Imaginary Leo mocks.

But I don’t answer him. I try to wiggle free, though it only lets him thrust his fingers in deeper—making me moan louder as he does so.

I bite down on my lip as my fingers move faster—and deeper—to stifle the loud moans pouring out of me. Only, it’s not working.

Imaginary Leo unfastens his pants next and frees his gloriously thick cock for me to see. He pushes the head of it against my swollen clit so menacingly that I whimper.

I shouldn’t, but I want it so badly…both myself and the imaginary version.

Slowly…teasingly, he fills me with inch by marvelous fucking inch with his cock. My own fingers move faster, and harder.

“Is this what you wanted, Kristen? To have me take you in front of all these people?” he coos menacingly.

My knees begin to shake, and I try to swallow the lump in my throat as my breath hitches.

I throw out my hand in some futile attempt to grab the wet surface of the shower wall. My fingers try desperately to cling to it to no avail as I throw my head back and let out a crying scream while I succumb to my own machinations.

I see bright lights—stars in my eyes—as the world only just begins to regain focus, and then the bathroom door is nearly shattered from its hinges.

The curtains of the shower are thrown back while I’m in mid-gasp, and I see Leo looking frantic and worried, almost as if he’s ready to commit murder…to save me.

And save me he does.

My knees buckle—still faint from the overwhelming orgasm I’ve just had—and I begin to slip and fall forward.

Instinctively, I reach out to grab the shower curtains to stop myself from falling, but they only join me on my descent toward the ground. Instead, it’s Leo’s quick reflexes and strong, sexy arms that save me from my fall.

Once I feel his body holding mine, I let go of the torn curtains and throw my arms around his neck.

My breathing is rapid and panicked—seeing as I almost busted my head open—but it’s not only because of my near accident. No, the look in his fiery, intense, dark eyes is doing more than their fair share of contributing to the cause.

“You okay?”

“Mm? Ye…yes. I’m okay,” I manage. “Though it wouldn’t kill you to have a mat or something so that people don’t fall and crack their heads open.”

“Well, had I known you were planning on playing with yourself in my shower, I would have bought some adhesive ducks or something for your feet.”

My eyes immediately go wide like a dear in headlights. I can’t fucking believe that he caught me.

His lips begin to turn upward into a knowing smirk that’s sexy and infuriating at the same time.

“I was doing no such thing,” I blurt out, obviously lying through my teeth. My lie only makes his smirk worse.

“Uh-huh. You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

I want to stand up and push him away. I want to slap him for even daring to say such a thing—regardless of how true it is—and for getting me into this situation in the first place.

But I don’t.

I remain perfectly content against his muscled frame as he holds me, and the water beats down on us like heavy rain.

“Oh, get over yourself. Even if I had been getting myself off…which I wasn’t. But if I had, you’d be the last fucking person on the planet that I’d be thinking about. I’d be thinking about a real man like Henry Cavill or Aiden Turner. Not some asshole like you.”

Leo laughs in my face, and I can smell the Kentucky bourbon on his breath. It’s so strong that I can almost taste it, and part of me wants to taste it…on his tongue.

“Oh, come on, Kristen. Just admit it. You were thinking about me while playing with your pussy,” he teasingly mocks as his eyes twinkle with mischievous intent.

“I was doing no such fucking thi—”

That’s all I get out of my defiant statement before I feel his lips crashing against mine like a torrential downpour.

I should push him away—that’s what a rational person would probably do in this situation—but, God help me, I kiss him back with just as much force and intensity.

And, fuck, does that bourbon ever taste good on his lips.