Page 68 of Dare To Break

“You …” Her throat moves as she swallows. “You saw that?”

“I see everything you do.”

Her breath is coming in small gasps. I straighten. “I brought you a gift. I want you to stand up.”

I take a step back and wait while she pushes to her feet.

“Good girl. Turn around. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

She shuffles around carefully and when she’s facing the bench, I touch her arm. “Perfect. In front of you is a box. Count to ten, then remove your blindfold. If you want to play some more, change into what’s in that box. Nothing else. Then put the blindfold back on.”

I move back as she counts slowly down from ten. By the time she hits zero, I’m hidden by the trees. I wonder what she’s thinking as she opens the box and pulls out the underwear Kellan admired earlier. She glances around.

Safely out of sight—we checked earlier to make sure the light from my cell wouldn’t be seen if I took it out—I tap out a text.

Me: Green or red?

She must have her cell on vibrate because I don’t hear a notification, but she pulls it out of the bag on the bench and sends a reply.

Prey: Green, I think. Are you alone?

Me: Do you trust me?

She hesitates and then replies.

Prey: I think so.

Me: Then be a good girl and do as I say.

She places the cell beside the box on the bench, takes another look around and then hooks her fingers into the hem of her hoodie and pulls it over her head. She’s wearing a t-shirt beneath it and there’s another hesitation before that is dragged off as well, leaving her in a bra that may be black. It’s hard to say without being closer. Her skin is a pale splash in the darkness. Her hands reach back to unhook her bra and I send another message.

Me: Wait. Turn around first. Let the bra drop down your arms to the ground. DO NOT cover yourself. Stand for thirty seconds. Count out loud. Red or green?

She stares down at the message, and I wonder if this is it. Have I pushed her too far? Is the game over already? But then her reply comes through.

Prey: Green.

She picks up the bra, sets down the cell and slowly turns to face away from the bench. I’m directly in front of her, even though she can’t see me. She’s worrying at her bottom lip, but she reaches back and unhooks her bra, then lets her arms fall to her sides. The bra slips off her shoulders, down her arms, peels away from her breasts and keeps falling down her wrists, her hands, and then it’s free, landing on the ground in front of her.

It’s my turn to lick my lips as she slowly starts to count. Her voice is low, barely more than a whisper, and her fingers are tucked into her palms, in tight little fists. With every number, her breasts lift as she breathes in and out. I wish I was closer. She’s visible, but not enough. I want to see what color her nipples are. Are they dark pink? Light pink? Small, large? Soft or hard?

By the time she reaches twenty, the numbers are spilling out of her mouth faster and faster in her haste to get to thirty. As soon as she hits it, she pulls on the new bra, and snaps it closed.

Me: Good girl. Now the sweats. We’ll talk about how that wasn’t thirty seconds another time.

She snatches up the cell, reads the message and types out a reply.

Prey: Can I face the bench?

Me: No.

Prey: But I don’t have any panties on.

Me: Good. Get used to it. You’re going to spend a lot of time that way. Unless you’re choosing red this time?

Prey: What if I do?

She better fucking not. I jab at the letters on my cell.

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