Page 20 of Brutal Savior

Jacob

I leave Quinn aloneto pee in peace. Not a privilege she’ll always get, but I’ve punished her enough for one day. For day fucking one, more to the point. She just had to keep bloody testing me.

If I was a better human being, I’d let her shower alone, give her a pair of pajamas, and make sure she gets a good night’s sleep. But I’m not going to. I can’t resist seeing what’s underneath that hoodie.

Spanking her, then watching her struggle on the hard wooden chair has left me as hard as stone. It doesn’t matter, though, because I’ve no intention of banging her tonight. As deep as she managed to sleep in the interrogation room, I’ve no doubt she’ll crash hard tonight once I get her into bed. I can take care of myself later if I have to.

I wait outside the door. The toilet flushes, and the buzz of the electric toothbrush I gave her starts up. I take that as my cue to enter. She jumps when I push the door open, gapes at me, thendeliberately turns away and continues brushing, trying to play it tough.

“Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?” she mutters after she spits.

“You’re lucky I let you close the door at all.”

She pulls a face. “Oh Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you’re one of those freaks who like women to pee on them. If you are, I’m asking for a redo and choosing the old guy.”

God, she’s brave. Held captive by a bloke four times her size, and she’s still cracking jokes. There’s something so impressive about it that it takes me a while to think of a retort. “Not my thing, love. Sorry to disappoint. You about done with your teeth? Better to leave some enamel intact.”

She’s stalling, dragging out the last step because she knows what comes next. She makes a show of brushing for a while longer, then switches the brush off and rinses it carefully. Brave as she is, I don’t miss the tremor in her hands as she sets the brush down. She clutches the bottom of her hoodie protectively.

“I’m exhausted. Can we just go to bed? Please?”

The “please” is a nice ploy, and if it wasn’t such an obvious one, it might have worked. The fake sweet note in her voice almost makes me laugh, but I hold it back. “So desperate to keep your clothes on I get a please out of you? Incredible. But it’s not going to work. Take them off. I won’t do anything to you tonight. We’re just going to shower.”

I hold my hand up with three fingers raised in a boy scout salute. “Scout’s honor.”

She snorts. “You weren’t a boy scout.”

“I bloody was. Five years. Now, if you want to earn your ‘I do what I’m fucking told and don’t earn another punishment’ badge, get your clothes off. Now.”

I cross my arms across my chest.

She fidgets, looks down, glances up at me, then looks down again. “What if I don’t?”

Always an argument. “I’ll rip them off you, and you can shower on your knees with your hands and feet tied. Sound good?” I take a step forward.

It does sound good—too fucking good—and I’m almost disappointed when she holds up her hand. “No! No. I’ll take them off. Just give me a moment.”

“Take your time.” I lean against the door frame to watch the show, and my heart picks up as she grips the bottom of her hoodie in white-knuckled fingers. It’s cruel to make her do this, but I’m captivated by her nervous, jerky movements as she forces herself to comply. Christ, I’m so hard it’s painful, and she hasn’t even taken anything off yet.

She yanks the hoodie over her head and throws it down in a rush, as if trying to do it in the least sexy way possible. Beneath, she’s wearing only a skimpy white crop top. A line of pale, toned midriff shows, and she wraps her arms around herself for a moment before she bites her lip and pushes herself onward.

Off comes the top. Underneath, she wears a pale pink bralette. It pushes her small breasts up, giving her a little bit of cleavage. Next, she shimmies out of the white miniskirt. The knickers don’t match; they’re pale green. She wasn’t out on the pull, then. I don’t know why, but I’m happy she wasn’t.

She looks at me, and there’s a pleading note to her voice as she asks, “Can I just keep these on?”

There’s a soft part of me, buried deep, that wants to say yes. But I’ve made my position clear, and she needs to do as she’s told. “No. Off with the rest, too.”

Her jaw clenches. “You’re sick.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

Her chest rises and falls fast as she looks down at herself. She chews on her lip before reaching behind herself to unclip the bra.She lets it fall, then pulls the knickers down in an angry rush, kicking them to the side and standing before me stark naked.

I expect her to cover herself with her hands, but she doesn’t. She balls them into fists and keeps them at her side as she glares at me. “Happy?”

Fuck yes, I’m happy.

She’s slim, to the point I want to cook her my trademark Steak and Guinness pie every night for a month, but it doesn’t diminish her beauty. She’s perfectly formed, everything in proportion. Her breasts are small, and I can’t wait to see how they look in my hands. I want to roll those tiny nipples between my fingers and see what noises she makes when I pinch them.

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