Vanessa
I grit my teeth while undoing the buttons of his shirt. A string of curses race through my mind, tempting me to unleash them. As if he wants to torment me more, he says, "Keep your eyes on me," as he tilts my chin upward to meet his gaze.
The iciness of my expression mirrors in his eyes. This feels like some sort of power play, given that I can't see what I'm doing, and my hands are at risk of touching anything.
My hands trail down his abs as I release the final buttons, pushing the shirt off his taut shoulders. He bites his lip, his eyes deepening, hooded with lust. His predatory gaze sends a shiver down my spine, but I remain focused on the task at hand.
I can't help but wonder how he was okay with another man touching me. Yesterday, he said I was his and even threatened to chop off anyone's hands who even dares to try it, yet he let Danny lick me like melting ice cream. I doubt his reasoning will make sense, but I decide to ask anyway.
"I thought you didn't share?" I taunt, unable to conceal the displeasure in my tone.
"I choose whether or not others get to play with you," he replies simply.
He gets to choose? I know my bodily autonomy doesn't mean shit to him, he's proven that already, but what's stopping him from eventually lending me out to the rest of his men? Who's he going to have "punish" me next? Luis? Leroy? All of them at once?
Fear coils inside me, but in an instant, something snaps in my brain, swiftly transforming into rage once again. My jaw tenses, teeth grinding with the weight of my emotions. "So should I get used to all your men playing with me like a whore?" I snap, the words dripping with both defiance and a simmering resentment.
He releases a humorless laugh. "Antonio really did a number on you. There's nothing to be ashamed of in wanting and receiving pleasure." Rage flickers in his eyes, and I swallow hard. He leans in, his hot breath caressing my ear, "Utter that word to describe yourself again, and you'll earn yourself a spanking."
A spanking? Images of his hand on my bare ass flash in my mind and I'm repulsed at how it instantly has my pussy dripping.
Ugh, can I have some self-control please?
"Finish, Mascota," Diego orders, snapping me from my thoughts.
I blindly reach for his zipper, my fingers grazing against his hard member. I hear his breath catch, his eyes dark and hooded now. I push past the discomfort and slowly yank his pants down to his ankles.
He gently strokes my head the same way he did earlier. "That's a good girl," he purrs, his touch sending an unwanted shiver of pleasure down my spine. My body glows from his praise, a conflicted mix of disgust and craving for approval. I blush, trying to keep my eyes from wandering all over his perfect body. He's practically naked now, and I can only imagine how his dick is trying to break free from his boxers. It's like he does this on purpose to see if I'm weak enough to give in to him.
Well, I'm not!
Like I've said previously, and I'll say it again a million times...he'll never be inside me!
"Am I done?" I growl, more annoyed with myself than him at this point.
A mischievous smile tugs at his lips. "Yes."
I step away and scurry to the bed, diving underneath the covers. I turn, facing away from him, but I can feel the bed dip as he lays beside me. The light in the room flickers off, darkness and silence creeping over me.
Seriously, how does he sleep like this?
I toss and turn, attempting to find a comfortable position. My gaze shifts from the ceiling to the curtains covering the window, and finally, I settle for watching the analog clock ticking away on the dresser.
After an hour, I throw the blanket off my body, groaning in frustration. Perhaps I can go downstairs and make some warm milk or something. But will I face punishment for that? What if he interprets it as another attempt to escape?
"Can't sleep?" Diego murmurs huskily in the dark.
I stiffen at the sound of his voice. Well, there goes my plan. Why isn't he sleeping yet? Doesn't he have drugs to traffic or people to murder tomorrow?
"No, it's too quiet and dark," I mumble, my annoyance evident in my voice. "How do you sleep like this?"
I don't know why I'm even talking to him. He's the one who took me from my comfortable home, my familiar bedroom, and obliterated the only life I knew.
"With a life like mine, this is the only peace and quiet I get. You're a tough girl, you'll adapt," he says with indifference. Which is his way of saying he isn't going to do shit to make me more comfortable. He can completely rearrange my fucking life, but god forbid he change even a little of his routine.
I respond with a grumble of incoherent curses, earning a chuckle from him. "Good night, Mascota. Try not to cry too loudly tonight."
The room is shrouded in darkness as he remains in bed beside me, his presence a stifling weight in the air. Lying in silence, a surge of determination courses through me. There has to be a way to reach the police. I make a silent vow to myself that tomorrow, when we head to the club, I'll devise a new plan. I'll never stop trying to break free from him!