Текст книги "Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

6: Rules

Weaving in and out of traffic, Victor sped to the Virginia State Penitentiary. The meeting he had been trying to get for nearly a month was finally upon him. Once on the highway, he glanced in the rear-view mirror and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He spied a gray hair at his temple and grimaced. He was getting too old for these debauched games, but, God, how he loved them. And hell, he was good at them. He had stopped trying to deny who he was or what he had become – cruel and methodical – a long time ago. It was in his DNA so it’s not like he could’ve denied those tendencies even if he tried. Or could he? He plucked the silver strand from his head and tossed it aside along with the thought that he could deny what he was.

His thoughts wandered from his upcoming meeting to Elsa and her brazen statement about signing her name in blood. His eyes shifted momentarily to his briefcase. Her file was filling up fast with all sorts of delightful surveillance photos and tawdry little details about her life, medical history, childhood and past relationships. She was a fascinating specimen and he couldn’t help but feel like he had lucked out in choosing her. He loved the initial high of infiltrating a new target’s life and all the feelings of authority and power that a fresh test subject brought. It’s too bad those feelings didn’t linger and the inevitable staleness of familiarity set in.

Bringing his hand to his nose, he inhaled her sweetly fragrant and musky aroma still lingering on his fingers. He hoped his time with her would last longer than that of Seven. With her scent still enticing his senses, he reached into his pants pocket and retrieved her panties and eyed them with a satisfied smile. He wondered if she would follow his order to stay put or if she would defy him. He had learned over the years that waiting was a form of punishment in and of itself. He liked the mental image of her impatiently waiting for him, though on some small level he wanted her to disobey him so he could dole out his reprisal. Her longing gazes and foolish trustfulness needed to be tempered with emotional pain and humiliation, and he was just the man to shred her lack of caution. As appealing as punishing her sounded, Victor knew it was too soon to consider such an idea. Unless, of course, she brought his wrath on herself. But still, he wanted to frighten her, not scare her away. Not just yet, anyway.

*

Fifty minutes later he pulled into the large parking complex and made his way into the high-walled, brick jail. The sun was still bright in the sky and the warm wind was whipping all around him, leaving him damp from the muggy air and making his cotton shirt cling to his skin. While he walked toward the entrance, he took in his cold, sterile surroundings. He had been here far too many times to count over the years with his profession and had come to know the facility well and all the blood thirsty killers by first name. Except for the ever changing inmates coming in and out of the place, it felt strangely as if he were home.

Anthony Bruce was already in the interview room waiting when he arrived at his final destination. Seated in front of him, Victor couldn’t deny his eagerness to see the man’s familiar craggy face and to get into his degenerate headspace. As Anthony’s body count and notoriety continued to rise, so did the difficulty in getting in to see him as he was being inundated with requests for interviews. Victor had formed an unusual bond with the man over the last four years nd Anthony was his go-to-con when he couldn’t wrap his head around a case. Or Chapter.

The bond wasn’t only atypical, but necessary and Victor had come to accept the sociopath’s role in his life, even if the old man didn’t know the reasons himself. It was better that way. It was better that no one knew the reasons. It was essential.

“You’re a difficult man to get in touch with,” Victor eased himself into the hard metal chair.

Anthony’s weathered and scarred face split into a sarcastic grin and his voice cracked, “What can I say? I’m the man of the hour.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Ant. Once we find out all your secrets, you’ll be old news.”

The sinewy, white-haired man belted out a depraved laugh and pounded his fist on the table. “You’ll never know all of my secrets, no matter how hard you try, Son.”

Victor winced and his mouth tightened into a deep frown at Ant’s term. It reminded him of his mother who used the same euphemism when speaking to him. God rest her bitchy, demanding, old soul.

Ant tipped his head back, his green-flecked eyes scanning Victor’s briefcase. “So what ya’ got for me? Chapter Seven?”

“A new case I’m working on. I need your thoughts,” he answered as he pulled out a thick case file.

“You know how this arrangement works. I help you in exchange for the enjoyment of reading about your fucked up relationships. Oh, my apologies. I mean Chapters.”

His stomach knotted and twisted. He hated Anthony with the kind of putrid loathing that seeped from his pores. More to the point, he was repulsed by the fact that he needed him. Narrowing his eyes, Victor sat silent, giving Anthony a pointed, contemptuous stare and prolonging the inevitable – having to share his secrets with the only man he knew wouldn’t judge him. They sat like that for several long moments, neither of them giving an inch.

“I’ve got all the time in the world, Agent Laurenzo. How about you? Don’t you have some pretty, young thing to get back to? Chapter Eight, perhaps?” He flashed his yellowed, cracked and crooked teeth.

Victor swallowed hard, trying not to reveal his resentment and nonchalantly waved his hand as if he could care less. “Seven was a waste of time and not worth mentioning. As for Eight, I’ve only just begun that endeavor and there’s nothing yet to discuss.”

“I’ll decide for myself if Chapter Seven was a waste of time,” Anthony seethed with visible mounting rage. “If you want my fucking help…”

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy, old man. I’ll give you what you want,” he smirked derisively. He loved seeing the cold-blooded killer’s eyes brighten with fury. He often wondered if the rage that flared on the rarest of occasions in Anthony’s eyes was the same as that of when he was cutting the limbs from the bodies of his victims.

Reaching into his leather satchel, he pulled out a stack of photocopied documents. Ant’s face immediately brightened.

“You’re always prepared, aren’t you? So? Was she a good fuck?” he licked his lips like a hungry mutt and outstretched his arm. “Or was it a ‘he’ again?” he waggled his eyebrows perversely.

Victor’s jaw tensed and he pulled the notes just out of reach, tormenting Ant. “She was no better and no worse than the rest.”

“Said Agent Laurenzo, Master of mind fuckery and bisexuality,” Ant mocked satirically as he leaned forward and puckered his mouth in jealousy. “Now give me the motherfucking chapter or else get the hell out of here,” he hissed.

Victor smiled and raised his eyebrows, untouched by Ant’s accusation. He didn’t consider himself bisexual. He simply didn’t discriminate when it came to studying the weak or where his pleasure could be gotten from.

Casually, he laid the chapter on the table. Without delay, Ant slid it toward him and began fingering the pages lovingly as if he had been given a drug. In a peculiar gesture, his brows pinched together and he began to sniff the air around him. Picking up the pages and bringing them to his nose, he inhaled deeply and then placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, inching his way toward Victor. Ant was much too close for his comfort and his nerves prickled with caution, a red flag popping up as he fisted his hands, ready to defend his life. Again, Ant drew in a deep breath, his eyes dilating and a deep primal growl floating up from his throat.

“God damn I love the smell of cunt…” he whispered, his ruthless eyes fixating on Victor’s mouth. “Chapter Eight?”

Pushing his chair back, Victor snarled in response, regretting that he hadn’t showered before the visitation, “Keep your distance and don’t forget your place. I gave you what you wanted, now it’s your turn to return the favor. Let’s not forget who the bitch is here.”

***

Elsa quickly finished packing a day’s worth of clean clothing and womanly essentials. She had waited for nearly two hours before giving in and leaving 2500 East Grace Street to get ready for the weekend that lay ahead of her. It was absurd that Mr. Black hadn’t given her any information as to his whereabouts or what time he would be back. Christ, he hadn’t even given her a phone number with which to reach him yet. An unsettling thought had crept up on her during her drive back to her apartment that perhaps he really was married. It was nauseating to think about. She didn’t want any part of a man who was in a committed relationship and she had no desire to be ‘the other woman.’ There was just too much about Victor, aka Mr. Black, that needed to be known and she would know. She promised herself that much. After the weekend she vowed to do her own research.

Speeding back to his house, she was relieved when she didn’t see his car parked in the driveway. Letting herself in, the soft sounds of Figure 8 by Ellie Goulding filled her ears and the odor of cigarette and citrus lingered in the air and she knew what that meant. Rounding the corner to the living room, Mr. Black was leaning back in the duchess chair, his legs stretched out and his head cocked to the side as his eyes moved over her body. His mouth twitched with some undefined emotion, but the look on his face was undeniable – he was displeased. She dropped her bag to the floor and stood wordlessly watching him. There was no point in trying to make excuses.

“It was a simple request, Ms. Cassidy,” he spoke with light bitterness, his narrowed eyes stabbing into her.

Elsa lifted her chin, meeting his icy gaze straight on and pretended not to understand his look as she seated herself on the lounger across from him.

“I waited nearly two hours before I left,” she whispered in defense as her confidence waned in the face of his unnerving stare.

“The point is: you left. And now I’m to decide on how to deal with your insubordination.”

Her lashes flew up in shock when his eyes suddenly filled with fierce sparkling. He appeared as if he was thrilled with her ‘insubordination.’ When he stood and moved near her, she was still too startled by his statement to do what she knew she should, which was bolt in the opposite direction. Instead, she eyed him warily, his cat-like movements mesmerizing and spine tingling.

“What are you…” is all she could get out before he seated himself next to her and covered her mouth.

“Shh,” he breathed into her ear as one of his hands began to unloosen the tie around his neck.

When he was free of it, he gently pushed her onto her back, laying her out on the chaise. In a flash, his hot mouth was all over her as he pinned her down beneath his strong body; first on her eyelids, cheeks, briefly on her mouth, then on her neck. His tongue flicked and licked its way down to her covered breasts and she moaned, enjoying the frenzied and unpredictable movements of his hands all over her. His touches were everywhere and she couldn’t focus on one sensation before another new one would suddenly overwhelm her. As her skirt began to hike up around her hips, her pussy throbbed its yearning and she opened her legs to him, eager to have him.

“So trusting…” he ground out between his teeth as if agitated by the thought.

Yes, she was trusting; too trusting. And she knew it. But damn the consequences – she wanted him deep inside of her. Keeping her eyes tightly closed, she hadn’t even realized when he brought her hands down and over her belly and looped his tie around her wrists. When she felt the tug of the silk and the blood constrict in her palms, her eyes popped open and her body tensed. She tried to sit up but Mr. Black’s large hands pushed her shoulders back down and he repositioned his body over hers, straddling her and rendering her completely immobile.

“Now you’re really mine to do with whatever I want,” his lips parted in a dazzling display of straight, white teeth and his sparkling green eyes glowed in the darkening room as the sun began to set.

Good God, that smile. It was stunning beyond words. He hadn’t yet graced her with a smile like that and it was hard to take her eyes off of him. And the boyish look on his stubbled face? Whatever reservation she had about him and his intentions melted in an instance, her body relaxing into the velvet cushion beneath her.

His long fingers touched the buttons of her shirt just as she raised her bound hands above her head. Locking eyes, he tugged hard and in one motion, all the ornamented buttons flew off her blouse as he ripped it open. Elsa gasped. She loved that shirt and now she was out not only her favorite skirt, but one of her beloved tops. Not that she gave too much thought to it. She was too thrilled and horrified at his actions to truly care.

Yanking the lacy fabric of her bra under her breasts, his fingertips skimmed her flesh and his mouth crushed down into her bosom, his teeth plucking and nipping at her tender and under-used nipples. Just when she began to ease into the rhythm of his sucking, he abruptly sat up, his malachite eyes dark like ominous storm clouds.

“My word is law, Elsa. L-A-W,” he drew out the word. “When I say I expect something to be done, what I mean is: don’t fucking think, just do as I say. It’s not a difficult concept to wrap that pretty little head of yours around. My house. My rules. Are you getting it now?” he asked smoothly, his voice thick with desire.

She nodded her understanding but gritted her teeth and tried to relax. Who the hell did this guy think he was and why the hell was she allowing him to speak to her like that? Because on some level she liked it; even craved it. Hell – needed it. This man had asshole written all over him and lucky for the both of them; she had a thing for assholes. Her mind was clouded with a combination of excitement, irritation and fear causing her to involuntarily tense under his firm body.

“Now that we have that out of the way, I can dispense your punishment…” he trailed off as his hands hiked her skirt up the remainder of the way and high over her hips where he sensually traced every detail of her tattoo, centimeter by centimeter inching his fingertip over her ribcage.

The devilish smirk on Mr. Black’s face sent shivers over Elsa’s torso. He lowered his head and nipped at the cherry blossom just over her pelvic bone and sealed it with a lick. She welcomed whatever else he had planned. How bad could it be? He said she was safe within these walls…

Tucking his fingers into one of his pants pockets, he brought out the panties he had cut off of her earlier. She couldn’t resist a small smile at the thought of him having been doing whatever he was out doing with her panties in his possession. Sliding himself down, he wrapped the torn underwear around her ankles and tied them snugly.

Next, he reached underneath the chaise and brought out a small container of baby powder and began to dust it over the exposed parts of her body, her tummy, thighs and breasts, and sprinkled more down her legs. Occasionally his eyes would flick up to hers to gauge her reaction. Hypnotized and a little confused by what he was doing, Elsa lay completely still, fixated on the look of concentration on Mr. Black’s face. He looked handsome and powerful with his dark eyes and secret expression, and his smooth bronze skin stretched over his high cheekbones. Once more, he leaned over the edge of the lounger. The clear-cut lines of his profile were barely visible against the dimly lit room as he reached for a long, satin scarf.

Apparently he had already decided on how to deal with her. A breathy giggle fluttered past her lips at the thought.

Sudden icy contempt flashed in his eyes. “We’ll see if you’re still laughing when I’m done.”

Nervous butterflies fluttered in her belly and Elsa gulped down air causing her stomach to rumble. In a heartbeat, the scarf was draped over her eyes and tied behind her head, shielding all light from her vision. Her pulse skittered with excitement and her breathing became erratic once she felt his body shift and hover over her.

“Let’s see how you like this…”

Her body jerked when she felt Mr. Black’s nails graze lightly over her stomach and ribcage, then sensually over her arms. The same breathy giggle spilled out of her and her nethers dampened once again. Lighter stroking was felt over her upper thighs and she wriggled around, her laughing becoming louder and more nervous.

Without warning, she felt his fingertips on the soles of her feet and in between her toes tickling hard and fast, then slow. She hated being tickled. Reviled it, in fact, and it seemed to be made worse by the fact that she couldn’t move and was blinded to his actions and what was coming next. She attempted to sit up but Mr. Black straddled her like before and held her down.

Elsa shrieked and tried to shimmy her bottom out from beneath him, but it was no use. She begged and pleaded as his fingers jabbed into her armpits and worked their way up. God, not her neck. She couldn’t stand being touched there. Kissed, yes, but not tickled. She thrashed around wildly and screamed as she began to retch from the horrible feeling on her throat.

“Stop, stop it!” she wailed, choking on her words.

“Why aren’t you laughing now, Elsa?” he growled as he held her bound wrists high above her head while his fingers continued their assault on her sensitive areas.

“Stop… I hate being tickled!”

Mr. Black’s tone was velvet, yet edged with cruelty when he responded. “I know.”

How? How could he know that her older brother had found it amusing to hold her down when she was a child and torment her in the same way? How could he know that she had come to despise it with all her being? There was nothing funny about it. It was torture. Absolute. Fucking. Torture.

Then it happened – the thing she hated most and the tears began to seep from her eyes, soaking the satin around them and her rage boiled over. She fought with the kind of strength she didn’t even know she had, kicking and yelling, drooling and spitting as she tried to fight him off.

“Get off of me!” she howled.

It was no use. He was strong and impossibly solid and immovable. And excruciatingly inexorable. Her body began to quake from the unrelenting onslaught of his hands and digits as her tears flowed down her cheeks when the dreaded happened. Her bladder began to contract painfully and she knew she couldn’t stop what was about to happen.

“Please, please, Mr. Black…my water…”

To her sheer relief, he eased back and just as she relaxed and let out another pitiful sob, he dusted his fingers against her neck.

Her body hardened as the warm wetness between her legs began to trickle out of her uncontrollably and she worked her Kegel muscles as if her life depended on it.

“Let it go, Elsa. Let me see how beautiful you look when you accept your punishment,” he leaned into her ear and breathed out low and intentionally seductive.

Elsa bit back her tears and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip until she tasted her own blood. No. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her humiliate herself. But damn it, there they were again – his fingers in her armpits, stabbing and poking until she screamed one last time, unable to hold back any longer and let her urine go.

So that was her punishment. Not the tickling, but the lack of control and what came after. The seat beneath her became thoroughly drenched and cold, repulsing her as the stench of urine filled the room. When Mr. Black stood, she scrambled off the lounger, trying to distance herself from the mess she had made. Still bound, she stumbled and fell to her knees, but promptly ripped the blindfold from her eyes.

She squinted against the light as her eyes came into focus and when she met Mr. Black’s self-righteous glare, she stiffened, momentarily abashed. She flushed miserably and was glad for the semidarkness of the room which was hiding her face.

Angry at herself for her juvenile actions, she bit back her anger while he helped her to her feet and steadied her. He bent down to untie her ankles and wrists, and once her hands were freed and she came face-to-face with her punisher, her humiliation turned to raw fury when she saw the arrogant, satisfied look on his face. Reaching her hand back, her palm caught him full force and square in the jaw, the strike so hard her palm tingled and ached.

He stood there, tall and infuriated, glaring down at her. The muscle in his jaw quivered and he leaned into her, only a mere few inches away, his eerie calm unwavering.

“Irrational behavior will only make matters worse for you. And just for future reference: the first one is free,” he touched his reddened cheek. “But only the first one. Now clean yourself up,” he waved toward the staircase.

Elsa’s breath burned in her throat, but she turned, pulled her skirt down over her thighs, grabbed her bag and headed to the shower without another word.

Finally under the hot water, she tried to clear her mind of what had just transpired. She scanned her body and except for the light scuff marks on her knees from when she had fallen, she was shocked to see no evidence of Mr. Black’s persecution. He didn’t lie when he said no irreparable physical damage would be caused, but still… She had just been made to piss herself all because she didn’t do as he had ‘expected’ her to do. What a complete douchebag. What the hell was his problem? Was he this cruel to all his women? And what exactly was his profession, other than being a gorgeous asshole?

She shook her head. She didn’t care. She finished cleaning up and quickly clothed herself in a clean dress, ready to run for the hills. Exiting from the bathroom with her belongings in hand, Mr. Black was seated on the corner of the bed waiting for her.

“So that’s it?” he asked as he eyed her backpack.

“You’re an asshole,” she countered icily.

He raised his eyebrows condescendingly. “I never said I wasn’t.”

She blinked long and hard before spinning on her heel to leave.

“You’re forgetting about our contract, Ms. Cassidy,” she heard over her shoulder.

She laughed inwardly and allowed her rebellious emotions to get out of hand. “It’s not a real contract and I didn’t forget,” she retorted.

Just as she turned the knob of the door, she felt hot hands on her shoulders as Mr. Black whirled her around to stare at her, quick anger rising in his eyes. “Oh, it’s real, Sweetheart.”

“Shove it,” she narrowed her eyes back.

Pushing her against the door and pinning her between his solid body and the wood, a deep rumble floated up from his throat, “I’d rather shove my cock down your throat.” He nipped at her bottom lip while pulling the strap of her bag off her arm and letting it fall to the floor.

As appealing as that sounded, Elsa still put her hands up and pushed against his chest to get a better look at the expression on his cocky face.

“I want you, Elsa, and I won’t be denied; most especially not when you’ve agreed to all of this.”

Her eyes widened with disbelief. “I never agreed to you humiliating me.”

“You agreed to play my game and follow my rules, and my rules include reprisal when you don’t do as I ask. It’s that simple.”

Simple? She doubted that. This was only the beginning of things to come. She was smart enough to figure that much out. And as for his game, he could shove that, too.

“Now…” he backed away and motioned toward the bed. “Seeing as you accepted your punishment so well, I’d very much like to pleasure you.”

***

Elsa’s normally radiant brown eyes were black and glittering with vehemence. It was quite a sensual look for her. On too many occasions Victor had been the victim of a glare like this, but Elsa’s eyes… they held a different kind of passion than the other Chapters. She was defiant from the get go and she wasn’t impressed with him. The others knew who he was and were eager to be his fuck toy. As for the boldness with the others, well, that didn’t come until later – after he had used and abused them and set them free. She might prove to be a worthy player after all in his game, so long as she followed his fucking rules. But then again, he did enjoy watching her squirm and beg beneath him. And the tears… sweet Christ she was beautiful when she cried. His cock hardened just thinking about it. God, he was a sick fuck.

As he waited less than patiently for her response, he smiled as he recalled the look of revulsion on her face when she emptied her bladder in front of him. Surprisingly though, she held her composure considering her wet, smelly circumstances.

The slap, though – that was something he wouldn’t allow again. Ever. He had no room in his life for physical interactions of that nature. His mother had dealt out plenty of her own emotional and physical revenge when he was growing up and there was no way in hell he would put up with that shit ever again – from anyone.

“Ms. Cassidy,” he prompted when she stood watching him cautiously, deliberating on his offer of pleasuring her. His actions, though cruel, had made her more vigilant and he mentally patted himself on the back for the favor he had done for her. Now perhaps her trustfulness would be less than forthcoming in the future.

He watched her closely, all her subtle little movements. Like the clenching and unclenching of her fists; the barely noticeable swaying of her body; the way the corners of her mouth twitched with tension as her eyes scanned his face for some kind of explanation of his actions. Even her breathing pattern didn’t go unnoticed. Her rapid and shallow breaths clearly told him that she wanted his touch and he was more than happy to give it to her. He wanted to savor her flavor again and to fill her to maximum capacity.

When she stood frozen, his throbbing cock urged him forward. “I promise I won’t tickle you again,” he winked. Elsa’s bold gaze averted to the floor and she shuffled from foot to foot, and he knew at that moment he would have her. “Not tonight anyway,” he added to be ornery.

Her bright eyes darted up and she gave him a look so nasty he couldn’t resist throwing his head back and laughing obnoxiously. When her face came back into focus, a furtive, confused smile tipped the corners of her mouth.

Backing up, he casually began to undress for her. Slipping his pants down his legs, he kicked them to the side, then removed his shirt, amused with the way Elsa watched his every move. She hadn’t been with a man in over five months and he looked forward to fucking her revirginized pussy. He hoped she was as good in real life as he had built her up to be in his mind. After removing his briefs, he gripped his thick cock and stroked it, giving her a good show.

He motioned for her with his index finger. “Come to me, my pretty, little plaything. I want to taste you again.”

The flush on her skin glowed under the bright lights of the bedroom, but she suddenly paled with tension. This again? Laid out in bed and leaning on an elbow, Victor shook his head with disapproval.

“I’ve already told you that I have no time for embarrassment. You have no reason for it. Do I really need to point out the obvious? You’re beautiful; intelligent and spirited.” The hidden smile lines on Elsa’s face materialized but she stood unmoving. “Now come over here and let me make up for making you piss yourself.”

Her joy disappeared and the blood rose to her cheeks as if recalling the memory. She scanned the floor but he could see she was thinking about his offer, causing a smile to creep onto his face. She wore her humiliation well and he couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself.

Growing more impatient as she stood contemplating what to do, he leaned back onto a pillow, closed his eyes and began to stroke himself again in hopes that he could entice her. Right on cue, he felt her hands on him, warm, damp with nervousness and greedy. He left his eyes closed, enjoying the randomness of her movements. When she took a hold of his shaft, he rested his hands under his head and focused on all the sensations she was providing him with.

Several long, slow strokes later, her wet mouth was felt on his dick. He grunted when she swirled her tongue over the crown and his abdominal muscles contracted with longing. Thankfully she was good at giving head. Much better than Seven. She was good at it too, but that was her only saving grace. Hell, Elsa was a close second place behind Five when it came to oral talents and that was saying a lot because that man could suck cock like a rock star.

This was what oral was supposed to be like – sloppy and wet. He felt the tight muscles of the back of her throat capture him and he pried his eyes open, wanting to see the sinful vision of her red hair all around him and her drool-soaked lips. Rising up on his elbows, he pushed her long locks to the side to get a better view and she didn’t disappoint. For all her unnecessary bashfulness, she gave head like that’s what she was born to do. She placed both her hands at the base of his penis, twisting them in opposite directions and it was all he could do to not shoot his load down her throat.

It was time for another lesson in humiliation 101. He pulled her hands away from his shaft and pulled them behind her back, pinning them there with one hand while he grabbed a handful of her hair with the other. He thrust his hips upwards while simultaneously pushing down on her head, forcing himself deep into her throat. Elsa’s body jerked as she gagged loudly and a debauched grin spread over his face. Dragging her mouth away from his dick, a thick ribbon of drool pooled out of her mouth and down his cock. How would she react to this? Tears again?

Elsa’s watery eyes met his and to his incomprehension, there wasn’t one ounce of shame or remorse shining back. He pushed her head down again trying to elicit discomfiture, but still, all that was gazing back at him was longing and that same damned defiance as before. She was a dirty girl after all, or maybe something in between filthy and demure. Perhaps she couldn’t be put into any one category at all. She clearly liked being dominated and the feeling of complete authority surged through him.