There’s nothing for me to say to that, unless I were to voice my agreement. My father has never respected women, and I’ve heard him say awful things to and about them. I assume the only reason I never heard anything concerning Rossi was because I was locked away in my room. Although I suffered in some ways by being denied a normal amount of human interaction, being in solitary confinement was the greatest blessing under the circumstances.
I wish Maximus would ignore me like my father did most of my life.
Instead, this man towering over me has paid too much attention to me. And my body. Heat burns just underneath the skin of my cheeks whenever I think about what happened in the car with him. I may not have a choice in what he does to me, or my physical response to it, but my thoughts on the subject? Those shouldn’t be anything except full of revulsion.
Yet that was not the case.
Even now, it’s a struggle to keep my thoughts in line and on the matter at hand, which is why I’ve concentrated on his mouth, waiting for him to speak again. A little bit ago, my gaze drifted from the leather belt in his fingers—the same ones he used to fuck me with—to his erection, and I didn’t hear the question he asked. I can’t afford to make that mistake again. However, after feeling the length of him pressed against me, I couldn’t squelch my curiosity and amazement.
The research I did on the internet during my captivity was an incredible amount. I wanted to learn everything about anything, including sex. Certain websites were prohibited to me, but anything educational was permitted. The medical texts concerning sexual organs, arousal, orgasms, and reproduction assisted me a lot and were most assuredly not part of my online curriculum.
But that information did not, in any way, shape, or form, prepare me for what Maximus made me feel.
He takes a step toward me, and I shift my gaze from the beautiful tattoo on his hand to his bare chest. This is another distraction able to scatter my thoughts. The muscles along his torso are finely honed with each divot sharp and defined. Whenever he moves the slightest bit, they flex or ripple, and I have to look away or be caught staring. Maximus doesn’t need to know about my attraction to him, and I’m hoping it’ll soon wither and die.
I start at the sensation of an object landing against the underside of my jaw and jerk my gaze upward to find his already on me. My throat nudges the edge of the belt when I swallow deep and valiantly struggle to hold on to my composure.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asks.
I mentally scramble to provide an answer but come up empty. Once again he’s caught my mind wandering away with my thoughts, and I can only hope he doesn’t know the reason. If he did, Maximus would use my attraction to torture me more than he already has. Yet I suspect he hasn’t truly begun the worst of it.
I shake my head. “No, sir.”
“If I have to repeat myself again, you’ll find this belt across your ass, not resting under your chin. Am I clear,donnaccia?” At my nod, he narrows his gaze at me. “Was the orgasm I gave you on the way here one of your firsts or not?”
That was the question?
I bunch the material of my nightgown in my fists and then squeeze to keep from trembling. Humiliation and indignation war within me, but I can’t let either of them win. Maximus expects an answer, and I have to give him one. But which? The lie that says I’ve touched myself on several occasions? I’m not sure he’d believe me, and telling him it was done by another man may not be the best response either. Maximus doesn’t care about me, but I’m his property, and I have to consider the idea he’d be upset if someone played with his toy before he did.
However, the truth is almost too embarrassing to admit. How can I tell him I’ve never done that to myself because I didn’t want to put on a show for my father’s men? How can I explain I used to fantasize about him, my fallen angel, doing that and much more to me?
I drop my gaze to avoid his. Just that submissive action fills my stomach with nausea, but it won’t compare to the words on my lips. “It was my first orgasm.”
What will Maximus do to me now that he knows?
The belt falls away from underneath my chin, but there is no relief. Especially not when I detect the arrogance in his voice. He is prideful, much like Lucifer was.
And like the devil, I hope Maximus’s downfall is eternal.
“I thought as much,” he says. “Take off your gown.”
My eyes close of their own volition at the command. So it begins.
After uncurling my fingers, which now ache from me clenching them tightly, I slide off the mattress. My feet land on the plush carpet, and I pull the sleepwear up and over my head. Remaining in only my bra and panties is the same as being nude for me. I haven’t been undressed in front of anyone in years, and even the henchmen at my father’s house weren’t allowed to see into the bathroom connecting to my bedroom. It was the only place I truly had any privacy, but if I stayed in there too long, then someone would come looking for me, so I never lingered more than necessary.
I tuck my chin to avoid Maximus’s gaze, since I have no desire to see his look of satisfaction due to my shame. My hair creates a flimsy curtain around my face as I struggle to keep silent. The urge to plead for mercy burns in my throat, and I wrap my arms around my middle as if that will help. It doesn’t.
The crack of the belt against my forearm has me sucking in a breath originating from surprise more than pain. I jerk my head up before I can stop myself and rub the stinging away from the spot that was struck.
“Don’t hide your body from me,” he says. “It belongs to me, not you. Put your hands down by your sides and keep them there until I say otherwise.”
I lower my arms in an automatic fashion while snared by the look in his gaze. The black of his eyes gleams the same way it did in the car, and I suspect something more than excitement shines there. Lust is there too, and I find it odd he’s aroused by me. Is it normal to be attracted to someone you hate? If his behavior, along with his stiff cock, is any indication, it’s happening whether normal or not.
At least it’s not just me.
He narrows his gaze a second before the strand of leather slaps my thigh. The skin throbs, and I squeeze my elbows to my sides so I don’t massage the area.
“What did I say about acknowledging me when I speak to you,donnaccia?”
