Page 8 of Married to My Master

“Shut up!” he shouted, as he dragged her out of the kitchen and into the den. Her house had suddenly become a prison.

She flinched back from his voice, terrified she'd anger him into doing something more violent.

He spun on her as they reached the middle of the room. “Now, strip,” he growled. “All your clothes. Now. Take them off.”

She'd never had a man speak to her this way or try to command her in this manner. Emily's lower lip trembled as she looked into his blazing eyes, seeing how terrifyingly alive they were. She knew with one look into those burning orbs that he was capable of anything.

Emily knew she needed to run and take her chances on an escape.

But even though she was still drugged and woozy from hitting her head, something inside her told her she needed to stay. In business, and in life, men had been trying to break her one way or another for her whole life. Dane Bishop wasn't any different. He just happened to have a gun.

She looked at him, her mother's spirit of defiance and willingness to buck tradition boiling inside her as she willed her quivering lower lip to stop its betrayal. She lifted her chin, looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, and began to strip.

Who did this man think he was, anyway?

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Dane

He'd break her. He knew how it was done from his time overseas. He'd heard the not-so-muffled whispers. He'd strip her of her humanity and fill her with monsters and dread she'd never be able to leave behind.

She just looked at him with that stiff upper lip, though, and those big blue eyes of hers, daring him as she reached behind her and unzipped the top of her dress. She shrugged out of her white dress, baring first one creamy, smooth shoulder, then the other, revealing black bra straps as she went. Soon, she shimmied the dress down her body, showing him her lacy black bra and her toned stomach.

It had been a long time since Dane had been with a woman. Too long. Certainly longer than he liked to admit, even to himself. Dane swallowed hard, his eyes ravishing her body as she revealed more skin to him. He could feel himself getting hard, and he had to readjust his length, tucking it down inside his pant leg.

The dress reached her hips and, with her eyes still on his face, she pushed it down over their swell. Her dress dropped to her feet in a pool of fabric, leaving her just standing there in high heels, black thigh highs, her black bra, and matching panties. She lifted her chin higher, sticking it out at him, to show him she'd be hard to break.

It was cute that she was fooling herself this way. “The rest of it,” he barked. “Now. All of it.”

She lowered her gaze and glowered at him from beneath her brow as she reached up behind her back and unsnapped her bra. She pulled down the straps and removed her bra. She went to cover herself, but he batted her hand away.

“No,” he spat. “You're nothing. You don't get to cover up. Now, the rest of it.” He took in her full breasts, and the way they rode high on her chest. They were small, but they fit her frame perfectly.

She gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw, but she complied. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and pulled them down, revealing a little patch of near-gold between her legs.

“Curtains match the carpet, huh?” he asked.

She didn't answer, she just stepped out of her panties, her eyes locked on his.

He just sniffed at her and stepped closer.

She sucked in a breath and backtracked one step.

“This'll be worse if you try to run,” Dane breathed as his hands came up. “Remember, I don't care about hurting you. If you upset me, I'll make my displeasure known.”

She stayed still after his words. Her chin remained out, daring him to try and tear her down, but her whole body trembled in fear as she waited to see what he'd do.

Dane brought a big, callused hand up. He cupped her breast, weighed it beneath his hand, and brushed a thumb over the nipple.

She sucked in a breath, and Dane watched, feeling her nipples stiffen beneath the pad of his thumb.

He ran a hand over her arms, her smooth skin, then over her stomach as he kept watch on her eyes. He took her length and measure with his hands and eyes, walking around behind her.

Her breath was coming faster, probably from fear. He ran a hand over her lower back, down to her ass, which was pushed out from the heels she still wore. He squeezed her cheek hard, eliciting a surprised grunt of pain from her. He squeezed harder, appreciating how firm but how soft and yielding she was.

“Stay,” he said into her ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you move one inch, I will hurt you. Do you understand?”

She nodded slightly.

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