Page 54 of Curse

I’m still wearing most of the suit I put on this morning in Chicago, and I shove my rolled-up shirt sleeves higher up my arms as I circle her, fuming.

She stiffens at the sound of my footsteps. “Who’s there?” she demands, her voice sharp, laced with fury. “Untie me! Let me the fuck out of here!”

I can’t believe she has the balls to be angry. She should be on her hands and knees, fucking begging me for forgiveness.

Storming across the room, I throw the small table out of my way so that it crashes against the wall and splinters into pieces with a deafening crash. Siena flinches violently, gasping as the sound reverberates through the space.

I lean in close to her, so close she can feel my breath brushagainst the side of her neck. “You’re not enjoying your stay?” I murmur, my voice low, almost taunting.

Her scream is pure rage, raw and guttural. She thrashes against the bindings, the chair creaking beneath her. Sweat beads on her brow, one drop sliding beneath the fabric tied over her eyes. “Leave me the fuck alone, asshole! I don’t fucking belong to you! You can’t just—”

“Except that I can, kitten,” I cut her off, my voice cold and even. “I can do whatever the fuck I want with you. And given how hard you’re working to get yourself killed at every turn, you’re far better off in my hands than on your own.”

She lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Oh, so you’re trying to keep me safe?”

In one fluid motion, I grab the back of her chair and yank it off the ground so only the back legs balance on the floor.

She gasps, her knuckles turning white as she clutches the seat. Her breath quickens, but I hold her there, suspended, watching the tension in her jaw, the way her body tries to shrink into itself. Then I let the chair drop forward with a jarring thud.

“Yes,” I say simply. “And you’re doing everything you can to make that harder.”

Her bitter laugh is quieter this time. “Kind of hard to protect someone when you’re never around,” she mutters under her breath.

I pause, caught off guard by the venom in her voice. I study her face, searching for a hint of vulnerability beneath the blindfold.

Her mouth is pressed into a tight line, and there’s a slight tremor in her jaw as she bites the inside of her bottom lip. She almost looks… hurt? Am I reading that right? Does she feel like I abandoned her?

The realization sends a pang of guilt through me, sharp and unexpected. But it’s quickly swallowed by anger. She was the one who made it clear she was using me to get off in the shower. She was the one who ran.

“What the fuck business is it of yours?” I growl into her ear, then stand, pacing around her and loosening my tie. “You were on your way out, remember?”

“You fucker!” she spits. “You’re a murderer. A barbarian. A fucking monster—”

I grip the chair again, yanking it back with enough force to cut her off. Her breath catches, and the sight of her tied there—angry, defiant, her dress riding high on her thighs—hits me like a freight train. The same little dress I took off her in the shower.

I can’t stop visualizing pushing that dress up around her waist and burying my face between her thighs.

Her breathing is ragged as I let the chair slam back down again.

“A monster?” I echo, pulling off my tie and wrapping it tightly around my knuckles.

Slowly, deliberately, I walk around her, unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt. “I am who I am, kitten. I don’t apologize for it. If you didn’t realize that from the start, maybe I’ve been too nice to you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t describe what you’ve done with me as ‘too nice.’”

Her defiance grates on me, but I ignore it, continuing my slow circuit around her. Sweat glistens on her collarbone, a bead sliding down to disappear between her full, heaving breasts.

Stepping in close to her, I drag the back of my hand over her chest, slowly wiping away the drip of sweat, watching as she squeezes her thighs together. She shudders involuntarily under my touch and lifts her chest slightly to press back into me.

“I did nothing to you, kitten. If I recall, you did it all to yourself.”

I dip my hand lower, hooking my finger under the edge of her bra. Her breathing starts to quicken as I slide my finger across her wet, warm skin, slipping farther under the lacy fabric until my fingertip just barely skims over her nipple.

“If you were mine and you let another woman touch herself like that in front of you, I’d fucking kill you both.” Her voice is raspy and low, and it hits me like an electric jolt to my system.

If you were mine…

Fuck. She’s perfect.

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