Page 82 of Virgin Bratva Hostage

I don’t want his eyes on me.

I don’t want to tempt him in any way.

“Royce, we can talk—“

“Hah,” he laughs. “Go ahead, talk. I’m listening.”

He crouches in front of me and starts cutting from the bottom of my jeans, around the ankle. He cuts upwards, all the way along my leg, right up to my hip. Then he does the other side.

I’m so scared I can’t even think of anything to say to distract him.

He pulls my jeans away and now I am in nothing by my underwear.

He sets the scissors down and grabs me thighs, pulling them apart.

I cry out.

He grins, running his hands up my leg.

He wants to take his time. I’ve noticed that. He isn’t in a rush to get this over with. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. Maybe I can—fuck. Idon’t know what to do. Think, Ruslana. Think.

I keep catching sight of his cock, pressing against his pants.

This is sexual for him, but also—a need to be in control. He wants to use me for his own pleasure. Ok—so how can I use him back.

“When I first saw you at the club—,“ I start talking, not even sure where this is going to lead me.

He pauses, tilting his head towards me, a scalpel in his hand. The blade catches the light and I take a sharp breath. Speak. Say something.

“When I first saw you I thought immediately that you were the type of man I would be with. That’s why I ended up dancing with you.”

His eyes are on me and for the moment he isn’t hurting me.

“Carry on,” he says, curiosity in his eyes.

“Then, when you were following me around—I knew you were there. I loved it. I loved the feeling of having someone watching me.”

All I know right now is that I’d rather suffer his sexual advances than having him slicing my veins open with that scalpel. I don’t want to die.

Swallowing away the tight lump of fear in my throat, I shift my body, arching my back slightly, letting my legs drift open again—not wide—just enough to tease his mind.

A low growl rumbles through his chest and he lifts the scalpel, holding it against my inner thigh. “Are you toying with me, girl?”

“I’ve always wanted a man who knows what he wants. Someone willing to take control. It turns me on,” I whisper, doing my best to sound seductive and not terrified.

He lets the blade press harder against my skin and a very thin trickle of warm blood drips down my thigh.

He rubs his other hand over his cock. His eyes are so dark they could be black. Like midnight and nightmares.

All the while—I tell him how incredible I think he is—and how he’s the kind of man I’ve been waiting for—I am wiggling my wrists, bit by bit to loosen the ropes. It’s not easy, but if I don’t get this loose, I will die here. I will die painfully and horrifically—and it won’t be quick.

“You know, little angel, I think you see me for who I really am. And you might be the first person who has ever done that. Most people look past me and underestimate me.”

Yes, fuck. Yes—this is working.

“I saw you from the beginning. You are smarter than everyone else. You’ve been in control since the beginning and no one else even realizes.” I say, hoping that whatever I’m saying makes sense.

“How did you know?” he asks, sounding impressed.

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