NOT FULL BOOK
Amelia stumbles upon a crime syndicate on campus when she catches the eye of a member apart of the group. He is powerful, dominant, and controlling.
Aiden (who goes by Blade) is in line to be the next president of the Heathens. He's gi...
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She slipped off into the bathroom connected to our private room after I called her a good girl and her cheeks subsequently turned a delicate shade of pink. I smirk at the effect I have on her. I'm sure her body will ultimately betray her, surrendering to me before her heart eventually follows suit. In fact she's probably soaking wet in her panties right now, pacing around in the bathroom thinking that with space she can turn her feelings off.
We'll see about that.
When I push through the bathroom door she yelps and grabs her chest, her fear-stricken face instantly turns me on. She absentmindedly puts her hand on her hip and pops it out a little, it's probably a gesture she picked up from cheerleading, but the way it accentuates her curves captivates me. Damn, why does she do this to me. And so effortlessly at that. She could teach a masterclass on how to make a guy lose his fucking mind.
"What are you doing?" She whisper-yells, like a child who's afraid of getting caught for breaking a vase.
"Calm down, no one's coming in. You don't have anything to worry about," I reassure her as I take a few deliberate steps in her direction, making sure to maintain eye-contact while I subtly corner her against the wall and inhale her rose scent.
She really doesn't have anything to worry about, the waiters know not to disturb us. Except that one new one who signed his death wish by looking at Amelia like she was a prime steak on the menu. Well, I won't kill him, but I'll make sure he spends the next week trapped in the four walls of a hospital room. I'll bet he'll never creepily stare at another girl in public again.
"I told you I would have fun punishing you," I murmur into the crook of her neck, gripping her waist.
"I don't think this—"
"Shhhh," I interrupt. "Don't think. Just feel."
As my fingertips glide over her body I observe her reaction, noting the way she breathes harder at the contact. With deliberate movements I explore further, my hands reaching the delicate territory of her inner thighs, tracing along the area of panties covering her p*ssy. She shivers, and I don't know if it's from my touch or embarrassment that her panties are wet.
"Tell me, Angel. Have you ever been touched before?"
She nods, and her throat contracts in a visible gulp, the action zeroing in my attention to the necklace. My necklace.
Her nervous energy dances around her and I couldn't be more excited about it. I thrive on fear. And she has every reason to be nervous. She's caged in a small space with someone who could snap her neck in under 30 seconds.
"Then why are you so shy yet so receptive to my touch like a virgin would be?" I whisper into her ear, my breath fanning over the shell.
"I-I'm not shy," she stutters.
I smirk. "So you agree you're receptive to my touch then?"
Before I give her a chance to respond I grab her and turn her around so she's facing the wall, holding on to the metal bar and slightly bent over.
