Page 81 of Love Sick

But the fear in Kyle’s eyes reveals how desensitized I really am.

“Stop,” Noah orders.

I do.

“Take off your dress.”

Again, another way for him to humiliate me. But has he forgotten I took my clothes off for a living and exploited men’s stupidity for my gain?

If I waver, Dutch will think I’m scared and swoop in to rescue me. So without a second thought, I slip my dress off over my head. I toss it to the floor, daring Noah to do better.

Kyle turns his cheek as best he can with a gun pointed at the back of his head to protect my modesty. I appreciate the gesture, but things will get a lot worse before they get better.

I only have on underwear. But that’s still too much for Noah.

“Those too.”

He won’t be satisfied until I’m entirely degraded. But again, I hold my head high and take off the white cotton underwear. I don’t shy away or cover my nakedness. I stand proud, daring Noah to do his best.

“Touch yourself.”

I exhale slowly, needing a moment because this man is beyond vile.

“Why me? From the very beginning, you showed an interest in me. Why?”

Noah smirks, and I realize it’s because he knew me. And it’s not just from the dirty magazines my pictures were in. This is personal.

“I don’t think I gave you permission to talk.”

I know Dutch is about two seconds away from ripping off Noah’s head, but I can’t let that happen. If I give Noah what he wants and distract him for long enough, it might give Dutch the window he needs to take him down.

There’s no room for error, which is why I lock eyes with Noah and commence touching my breasts slowly. I circle my areola with my pointer, ensuring the strokes are deliberate to hypnotize Noah in a sense.

Kyle is still looking away, but I have Noah’s full attention.

I know how to seduce men. I did it for a living. But Noah isn’t a man; he’s a little boy with a god complex.

I use everything he’s done to me as fuel to lure him into this trap which he set for himself. Like Dutch once told me, he tunes into the universe to hear music.

So I do the same thing.

I move my body in sync with the howling wind outside as the music flows through me. I use myself as an instrument and play Noah, who is utterly engrossed as I slither my hands down my body. I never break eye contact with him and make him believe this is all for him.

Swaying my hips, I allow Dutch’s music to steer me as I close my eyes and remember the way he looked behind the piano. His fingers moved with ease as his silver rings caught the candlelight. His dirty blond hair shielding his downturned face. The muscles in his upper body taut and defined. And my most favorite thing of all—the top button of his jeans undone, revealing the soft hairs from his navel, leading downward.

I know how they feel when I run my fingernails through them. As well as when I lick his stomach, leading down to his dick.

This show is for no one else but Dutch because I love him with every echo of my heart, and with that, I rub two fingers over my sex, not surprised to feel I’m wet. I only have to think about him to get turned on.

This has never happened with anyone else before and I know if we get out of this unscathed, I want him to be my forever. I can’t remember life without him, and I only want to make new memories which don’t involve death or getting myself off in a room full of people.

My nipples tighten when I relive the memory of Dutch and me being utterly lost in each other. The way he touches me, kisses me, I know he loves me too. Through hate, we’ve found love, and that is rather incredible.

I remember the way his mouth dominates mine. The way his touches set me on fire. I wish my fingers were his, but I pretend that they are. I rub over my aching center, surprised I am this aroused. But I know it’s common for feelings of anxiety or fear to be overcome with feelings of pleasure.

It’s the perfect balance.

And right now, I would rather come than deal with what’s ahead.

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