Page 97 of Step Alpha

That’s when I realize I’m naked.

I was so focused on the shoes, I hadn’t picked up on the fact that Footlover stripped me naked before tying me up.

Oh Fates, did he…

No. I don’t think so. At least, I don’t feel tender or used.

I resume my effort at tugging free of the bonds, but I’m still too limp. All I succeed in doing is chafing my wrists with the rope.

The door clicks open, and an unshaven guy in a windbreaker walks in carrying a bag from In-N-Out Burger.

He’s younger than I’d pictured. Like, in his mid-twenties, with dark hair that sticks up in several directions.

“Hi, Rayne.” His familiar voice seems so much more sinister now. The guy is as dorky as I pictured, but now I know he’s not just shy, he’s unhinged. Dangerous.

I’m nauseated by him and my situation, but the smell of the food makes my stomach rumble. It must be twelve noon based on how hungry I suddenly am. Fate, I hope it’s only been a half-day since he grabbed me and not more. I know we’re not in Wolf Ridge because there’s no In-N-Out there.

I summon all my inner strength and glare at him. “Untie me now.” I use my best domme voice.

I wouldn’t exactly say it works, but it does seem to fluster him. He drops the bag of food on the floor, then scrambles to pick it up.

“Now.”

“Um…no. I can’t do that.”

“You can’t keep me here.” I keep my tone brusque and confident, despite the trembling in my legs.

His gaze travels to my feet, and I see the bulge in his crotch area grow.

Fates. I need to get out of here.

Think, Rayne, think.

You need to think your way out of this.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He advances slowly.

“You can’t have me.”

Some of his awkwardness drops away. He meets my eyes for the first time. “I do have you.” There’s not a threat in the words. He’s not gloating. He just states the irrefutable fact.

Fuck.

“You can’t keep me,” I modify.

He tips his head. “Maybe not. I don’t really care. This is what I wanted.”

Oh, Fates. Icy cold washes across my skin. That means he’s going to kill me when he’s done with whatever he plans on doing with me.

I need to get free.

Food might help.

“I’m hungry.” I add a strong dose of petulance to my tone.

It seems to work because he scrambles to bring the bag closer to me. He pulls out a box of french fries and puts one to my lips.

If I weren’t so starving, I might try to argue for the use of my own hands. Eating from his hand disgusts me. But I simply gobble the french fry down. “Are there any burgers?”

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