"I hate you." My voice cracks as I tell him.
His feet stop at the door.
I clutch the bedsheet tightly around my chest as he turns around with an emotionless face.
"Then there will be a lot of hate fucking between us." A smirk curve his lips as his g...
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I stare down at my thighs and recall all the bad decisions I ever invented which made me reach here. On my knees.
A part of me wants to sink into the cold marble floor, grab his leg and beg for his forgiveness till he lets me go to my father's safe land.
But I know he has no heart, that pumps of feelings. It has all hardened into a stone which beats with no symphony of sympathy for me.
'Seven nights..' Dakota's deep voice echoes in my head and my anxieties clutch on to the frill of the dress. Submit to him? Survive his hell? How?
I slowly look up. His one hand is placed on one of his broad thighs that could easily crush a skull, and other one is gripping around the glass that touches his sinful lips as he takes a sip of the red liquid while staring down at me.
Green eyes under his long lashes appear dark, like they changed colour. There is more black in them than the greens. And it scares me thinking what unholy thing is cooking in his evil mind right now.
Dakota keeps his glass on the table and licks his lips. Plump, pink and wet, full in the center and curved on the edges. Perfect lips of a sinner.
Everything about this man screams of warnings. His muscular thighs, strong hips, toned chest with ungodly hair, sculpted jaw with a twisted smile like a cherry on top.
He is the kind of man, even his inner demons fear from.
Everything about Dakota is a danger flag. Someone you don't wanna mess with, even in your fantasies.
And here I am.
On my knees.
In a see through lingerie.
Decorated like a red-raw meat in front of a beast, starving since three years.
I gulp in my anxieties as he raises his other hand from his thigh and pulls the kitty hair band from my head, like snatching away my tiara. I bite my gasps and stare down at his feet in melancholy.
I want to run away to my home at the speed he ran after me.
I jump in fear as he keeps his large palm on my head and pets me like a dog. The heaviness of his hand reminds me of how muscular this man is and how useless I am to ever stop him from doing anything to me, physically.
My heart pounds against my ribs violently as he slowly draws his long calloused fingers through my wet hair and softly untangles every strand as if it bothers him.
"Why didn't you blow dry your hair?" He whispers hushly. His voice sounds just like his touch, gentle and patient while he tenderly brushes my damped hair.
My breaths become erratic as his warm fingers touches over my sensitive ear. I close my eyes and feel his thumb caressing the edges on my ear, drawing a C, then slowly sliding down to the soft part of my neck.
