He takes a deep breath through his nose, then shakes his head. “It’s a long story, and I won’t allow him to ruin this, baby. Come, I am taking you somewhere no other girl has gone when they’ve been here.”
He sets me on my feet, his hands guiding my waist to turn around, then encases my hand in both of his, pulling me behind him toward the door. I follow him down the corridor, then down a flight of stairs, and then he leads me to a solid white door, and I follow him through, my eyes widening as we step inside.
A canopy bed bigger than anything I have seen before stands in the center of the octagonal room. Four sides of the room are windows from the floor upward, until they meet the carved white molding along the ceiling.
Without another word, he leads me to the silky cotton of the white bed, his hands pressing into my tiny waist and lifting me to sit facing him as he steps closer, opening my legs with his body, and cupping my cheeks in the heat of his hands.
I wanted him before, but now I have no idea what magic he has unfolded upon me, but there is nothing in this world I need morethan to have him inside me. I am desperate for him to take me for the first time.
His eyes captivate me as I feel his fingertips lower and pull the slinky yellow fabric of the dress up and over my head.
“I have to warn you. Gentle is not my specialty. But you must trust me when I tell you, I know what you need.” His voice darkens as his wild, green eyes drink in every inch of my naked body.
He lowers his eyes and hands to graze over my shoulders, down my arms, until his thumbs trace lightly around the deep pink circles that harden under his soft touch.
Through my lust, I vividly remember that he is utterly a stranger to me. Fear punches in my gut, but that same fear swells inside of me like a hungry bear. My body flows with liquid desire as his hands move over and cup my breasts, sending a thick, ripe, fear-filled shiver into my belly.
My throat feels tight, my muscles aching as he caresses and then pinches at each hard peak. Jolts of panic and wondrous temptation ratchet my newfound lust higher and higher.
“Do you understand what it means to be mine?” His deep voice shakes me as I feel so small sitting naked on the bed.
“You will take care of me?” I hear myself, but every ounce of my focus is on his fingers as they ignite a trail of ice and goosebumpsfrom my breasts upward, over my chest, and wrapping around my neck.
“Yes. I will take care of you. But it is more. So much more. Are you truly willing to give yourself to me completely? To leave behind who you were and allow me to teach you, to mold you into something I’ve only ever dreamed of until now? You will be my focus, my charge, and I will provide for you in ways you never imagined.”
His eyes drink me in, from the top of my head down, resting for a long moment between my legs before his lips raise at the corners, and I see a flicker of danger behind those green eyes.
“I think so. I’m not sure what it means.” I feel myself sink into the soft white bedding as his gaze challenges me. I am suddenly small, helpless, and frozen under the soft but firm clutch of his hands at my throat.
“I provide a very special service for my clients. People like your parents. I train girls to be good again. To allow themselves to be utterly and completely given to the care of another. There are men all over the world who wait years for one of my girls.”
My chest feels like a strap has been tightened down three notches too far.
“What do you mean? The girls…you sell them?”
“No. Of course not. I am simply a teacher. When a young lady in my care has successfully completed her training, I send herback to her parents, or whoever sent her to me, a new woman. Obedient. Willing to please.”
It is hard to look at him. I have never seen a man so impeccable, so perfect, except on the covers and glossy pages of high fashion magazines. Even his voice is otherworldly, like a seductive lullaby I have waited my whole life to hear sung.
His explanations only fuel the already out-of-control fire that burns down in my belly. It clutches at me like ten tightening fists, coaxing out of me a desire so deep I am not sure that I will ever climb out.
The question from before nags at me again.
“So, my parents... I mean, my mom and Hoover... They know you?”
Daddy tips his head to the side, a sympathetic glint in his green eyes.
“Yes. I know Hoover. We have a…” He hesitates, and I sense that he’s wondering whether to go on. “We’re family,” he says finally, and the warmth in the room turns to a chill.
“Family...” The word catches in my throat. “You’re related to Hoover?”
Daddy takes a long moment. Licks his lips slowly, as my heart falls to my feet. Then he squeezes my shoulders, leans down, and kisses me tenderly, soft and sweet.
“Hoover is my brother, Larissa. You and I aren’t related, except by his marriage to your mother. Does that bother you?”
He’s my uncle.
I should care.