Page 9 of His Bet To Take
“Did you know that in order to clear his name, he added in the fact that you were a virgin? He basically sold you to me for thirty thousand dollars, all so I can pluck that sweet cherry you have between your legs. Does that surprise you?”
I gasp, clenching my thighs together, but not in fear.
No, even though I need to be afraid, the thought of Ian Roulette taking my virginity has my panties wet and my clit on fire.
I need relief, but I’ll never admit that to him.
The tattoos swirling up his arms disappear under the rolled-up shirt sleeves and I’m unable to stop ogling the rope of muscle.
“Why don’t you seem surprised? I expected more of a reaction out of you, Mae. Do I not scare you?”
“You terrify me,” I admit, my body shaking until I can feel it in my bones. “I’m afraid of what you’ll do to me.”
“Don’t be.” His thumb rubs against my bottom lip, tugging it down until it pops free. “When he told me about you; when he showed me your picture, there wasn’t an amount of money in the world that was going to stop me from taking you.” His body slides against mine and I’m able to feel every ridge of his abdomen. “You were more than a debt. I knew that my dealings with your brother were supposed to lead me to you.” Ian unties the old, worn apron I have on, and it drops to the floor. “I don’t think you understand when a man like me says you’re mine, it isn’t always in the best of ways.” He rips my shirt down the middle, the storms in his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m unhealthily obsessed. One look at you, and I knew that the only world I wanted you submerged in, was mine.”
He reaches behind me and with no effort, unclasps my bra.
Still, his eyes are locked to my face.
He slides his palms down my body, and I shudder, the callouses scratching against my flesh. I almost feel the death on his hands, the lives he took to form those callouses scream along my body as he unbuttons my pants.
Fight him.
Get out of here.
Run.
I’m frozen in place. The danger he exudes, the poison that he breathes, I inhale. I want to be at its mercy.
He slides my pants down and I step out of them, curious as to why he isn’t taking what he wants. He has yet to look at my body. Maybe I’m not what he wants? Maybe he realizes I’m not good enough for him.
And I’m not, let’s be serious. I’m a waitress. I have no college education. I’m dirt poor. I live paycheck to paycheck. What could he want with me?
“You deserve a hot shower, Mae. Let me take care of you.” He brushes a piece of my hair back. “I have a feeling the only person that’s ever taken care of you, is you.” Ian tugs me into the bathroom, swinging the French doors wide open.
My mouth parts when my feet hit warm black tile floors. The ceiling is high, the sink is marble with gold faucets, and there’s a huge soaking tub to the side. I almost groan when I see how deep it is. I could lie in it forever with bubbles.
All the fucking bubbles.
To the right, there’s a walk-in shower with shower heads attached to the walls and the ceiling. There’s a bench along one wall. I imagine him taking me there and blush.
“Undress me,” he orders, turning to me as we stand in front of the glass door in front of the shower. “I paid for your attention, Mae. I expect it.”
“You didn’t pay me,” I argue, not wanting to back down from him even while my fingers itch to unbutton his tailored-made shirt.
That hand again… it clutches my neck and holds me against the shower. He grits his teeth, his eyes darting between mine and he growls, low and inhuman. “I paid for years for you. Maybe not into your pocket, but for years, I’ve unknowingly been making you mine by dealing with your brother. Undress me, Mae.”
I do as he says, swallowing my fear of the unknown, letting that voice in the back of my head go quiet, and tug the buttons of his shirt with hesitant fingers.
I should run. I should get him where I want him, use my body to my advantage and run, and I would if I were sane.
But I’m thinking I’m more like Ian.
I’ve always wanted to be taken. I’ve always wanted to be owned.
I’ve always wanted to belong to someone.
And while this isn’t conventional, it’s my opportunity.