Page 83 of Root

“Is that the only word you know, Rush?”

“Murdery?”

“Not a word. Nice.”

“It fits.” Then he holds something out. It’s powder blue with pink and green…flowers…on it. I stare at him.

“What’s that?”

“You’re curious, so we’re having drinks and I’m going to satiate your curiosity. I’m sick of being nice Rush.” He flashes a dark smile on the word nice. “So if you want some pretty words from me, and a soft touch, put this on and come to me. And, when you do, you’ll do everything I say.”

With that he tosses the dress at me and says, “You have five minutes. You know where my room is. Do not make me come looking for you.”

He leaves.

“Fucking asshole.”

I search the room, but all my stuff’s gone. Just the dress. I pull it on angrily, and it’s worse than I thought.

Spaghetti straps and a pretty fitted bodice that’s a little too small so my breasts swell up. It flares at the hips and swirls around my ankles.

It’s horrible.

It’s girly and sweet and fresh and for a girl who he dates, not me. I’d never wear something like this in a million years.

I look around for something to use on him, but he was thorough. So I rip off the bottom frill of the dress. It still flows, it’s still girly, but now it ends above my ankles.

Wrapping the material around my hand I stomp off, heading down the stairs and not up to his suite.

There’s a living room that has a bar, so I go there and pour myself a drink.

I’m about to drink it when he finds me. “This isn’t my room.”

“Fuck you, Rush.”

“Oh, Jessie. That’s not how you talk to me.”

I come at him, ready to wrap the material around his throat, maybe his hands, whatever I can reach to tie him up, but he’s faster.

Bigger.

Stronger.

Ready.

He spins me around and clips something thick around my neck. My hands go to it. Leather, from the bottom of my throat to near my chin. And a chain clinks.

He pulls and I stumble back.

“Is…Is this a dog collar?”

“Special fucking delivery, Jessie.”

“When—”

“Yesterday.” He pulls me so I’m against him and anger and lust claw at me. He bites my ear. “You didn’t play nice, pretty little baby Jess.”

“I’m not playing nice with you.” I pull forward, and he lets me go, to a point. The chain goes taut. I turn, narrow my eyes. The material I ripped off the skirt dangles and Rush smiles.

---