Page 28 of His Pet

“Help!” I scream from deep within my throat. “Somebody help me!”

I take a breath, but my next words are cut off when Lorenzo slaps a hand over my mouth. He takes both my wrists and brings them up over my head, securing them in one tight grip.

“You’re supposed to scream fire,” he says with a smirk. “No one cares if you need help. Didn’t they teach you that in prep school?”

I thrash until my skin reddens from the friction against his shirt. His hard-on presses into me through his slacks, and I know my struggle only arouses him. A grin morphs his emotionless expression into one of glee. Excitement dances in his eyes, and I wonder if he’s felt this way the whole time.

“I can’t believe you’re still fighting.” He shakes his head. “You should be exhausted right now.”

I open my mouth and try to bite his arm, but it’s just out of reach. He lets my wrists go and spins me around, my cheek flat with the wall.

“Let me go, you sick fuck!”

He tsks but doesn’t otherwise respond. One hand is dug between my shoulder blades, pinning me against the wall, and his other touches my skin just above the bodice.

The material begins to loosen with the sound of a zipper at my back. I freeze, my eyes going wide. My breathing quickens, and I’m suddenly all too aware of the way my backside rubs against him.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice crackly.

Lorenzo finishes unzipping the bodice and it falls off my breasts. Cool air kisses my nipples, and they harden.

“Lorenzo,” I say, sounding desperate. I buck just to keep my fight alive. “Don’t.”

He pulls the bodice until I’m fully exposed and the revealing “outfit” hangs at my knees. I didn’t know what a blessing the thin material was until it’s gone.

Lorenzo smoothes a hand over my back and runs his knuckles down my spine. I shudder at the gesture and whimper when he palms my backside.

“What’s wrong, Kitty? What’s happening with you right now?”

I clench my eyes shut and try to ignore the sensations of his hand. It dips between my thighs, so close to my sex, but not quite there.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” I ask to distract myself. And him. A part of me is genuinely befuddled sometimes by the way Lorenzo talks.

“Because I want to know.”

He actually sounds sincere. He’s not playing with me. He’s not mocking me. He’s serious.

“I’m scared, Lorenzo. Do you really need to hear me say it?” I snap at him. He rubs my inner thigh with his thumb, then his hand slowly climbs.

“I know you’re scared. I’m not an idiot,Amelia.”

Amelia.

I’m not in a playful mood right now.

I upset him. That’s his tell. Even if the subtle hint of defensiveness didn’t taint his otherwise indifferent tone.

“Then I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

He pulls his hand from between my thighs, and I scrunch my face in anticipation for whatever comes next.

“You go from terrified of me to a smart-mouthed brat, back to terrified within a short amount of time. Most people never get past terrified. What am I doing that makes you respond this way?”

His fingertips glide up and down my spine. It’s gentle. Light. Is he trying to comfort me?

“I don’t know,” I whisper with a shaky breath.

He doesn’t say anything, and a question of my own forms.