Page 8 of Rayne

"Sure," he taunts. "That's precisely the reason. You could have just donated to an organization. But you chose to come here. Willingly to give your body away."

Hawk rolls his eyes. "She wouldn't have made that decision herself. Don't be ridiculous. She's not that interesting."

I'm getting more and more frustrated and irate as the minutes pass.

"Are you going to move from the door?" I growl at Jett, desperate to leave the room.

I'm surprised when he moves forward toward me, but he doesn't step aside. He makes a beeline for me, snatching the bag from my grip.

"I want to see what's in here," he muses. "What does our money get?"

Opening the bag that Damien handed me, he tips the contents out onto the bed. This should be my chance to run, but I'm distracted by the toys and condoms that fall onto the mattress.

Staring back at me from the bed is a vibrator, a small silver bullet, some condoms, lube, a mask and other little bits and pieces.

"Don't forget the cabinet," Hawk directs at him.

Jett's eyes light up and he stalks over to the wooden restored antique cabinet, opening the doors. Hanging inside are more toys—or weapons, really.

Floggers, whips, handcuffs, canes.

My eyes widen in horror, and bare fascination. It's been on my bucket list for ages to buy toys to experiment, but I've never had the lady balls to step foot inside a sex shop. I know I could buy online but the thought of not being able to visually inspect something first before buying, makes me a little uneasy—especially since it would likely be going inside of my body.

I watch as Jett pulls a crop from the cabinet, his fingers running along the length. Instantly, my body tenses up in fear.

"Don't come near me with that," I scold him, keeping my voice firm.

He looks over at me, surprised. "Are you afraid of a little old crop?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," I growl back, but we all know it's a lie.

Jett walks over to me, crop dangling by his side. "Oh, really?"

Swallowing, I force myself to hold his gaze. "Really."

"Put your hand out," he directs, stunning me.

"What?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes, reaching for my hand. Grasping my wrist, he holds my hand out, palm up. I try to pull away but he tightens his grip.

Before I can open my mouth to speak, he brings the crop up, swooshing it down again so the leather tag hits my open palm.

I jump in response, but quickly realize there was no pain. It was just a reflex from the movement.

"See—that didn't hurt," he teases.

Tugging my wrist, he doesn't let go, so I scrunch my hand into a fist to protect my palm.

"Let go of me," I tell him.

Leaning down, his face inches closer to mine. I recoil, pushing against the wall, but with nowhere to go, I have no choice but to watch as he boxes me in.

"Now, imagine that on your body," he murmurs. "Someone hitting the leather on your ass. Or your pussy."

Using my free hand, I shove his chest. "You're disgusting."

Jett barely budges from my push, grinning at me. "Imagine not knowing when it's coming. Letting someone else control it."

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