Page 8 of Sold to the Enemy

but wonder what he was thinking. Did she sound childish? Stupid? Did he wish she was someone else? Someone with more experience?

Something sharp struck Selma right through the chest, and she could only put it down to jealousy, which was insane. Why would she be jealous of anyone? It made no sense to her. But at the same time, it did.

She didn’t know Drago. He’d chosen her. All of this was his doing, but she did know in that instant that she didn’t want to share him with anyone. She wanted to belong to him.

Selma had no idea where these feelings were coming from. She’d never felt such overwhelming selfishness for anyone. Why was Drago so different?

Drago wrapped his fingers around her wrist and then started to slide her hand down from where she held his shoulder.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, feeling the slight edge of panic wash over her.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was soft and made her ache for more.

“I’m going to show you.”

****

Selma was going to be the death of him.

Or at least, her innocence was going to be. Drago had always considered himself a patient man. He’d waited a year for the perfect opportunity to take Selma, and it had finally happened. He wanted to take his time, to make Selma fall in love with him.

Drago had never believed in love. He’d never believed in the “happily ever after,” and he certainly never believed in love at first sight.

One look was all it had taken. Drago had known he wanted Selma. In his stupidity, he thought it was lust, but he’d come to know it was more than that. Far more. He had fallen in love with Selma, and now he wanted forever.

Slowly, he moved her hand down his body, going over his chest. Selma’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t tense up or pull away from him. She nibbled her bottom lip, and that made him want to kiss her.

He was hard as rock, and he dropped her hand to the waistband of his boxer briefs. Drago let her go long enough to push them down his thighs, and then he stepped out of them.

Selma was still dressed. He’d rectify that soon.

With his cock free, he took her hand, and she kept it resting at his stomach, and then he wrapped those fingers around his length.

“Feel what you do to me,” he said.

“Drago?”

“Trust me.”

With his hand covering hers, he began to work it up and down his cock. He tightened her fingers around him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not. Look at me.”

She tilted her head back, and he looked her in the eye, as she tightened his grip even further, not wanting to let her go.

“I love the feel of your hands on me.”

“It feels good?” she asked.

“More than good.” With his free hand, he stroked the strap of her suit. “But it could be better,” he said.

“How?”

“Do you trust me?”

She opened and closed her mouth, but then nodded her head. There was going to come a time when he asked her that question and she wouldn’t hesitate. He would never hurt this woman. She was everything to him.