When I walk into the guest bedroom, Crimson’s eyes move to the enormous king-size bed. Her eyes flash with fear and she backpedals.
“Sit,” I order her, waiting to see compliance before I pull my phone out and synch to my home network.
There’s so much security outside my home that I use the bare minimum inside it. A few motion sensors trained on the more expensive pieces of art dotted around the floors. A camera in my office, just in case.
The bulk of what I do have is in here. Every corner is covered by multiple camera angles. The mics pick up every word, even ones whispered in a running shower.
This is the nicest bedroom in the house. A magnificent view, second only to my living room. Twice as much space as my bedroom and the bathroom is half as big as mine again. The walk-in wardrobe could function as its own small apartment and the furnishings are more comfortable than anywhere else in my home.
It’s designed to feel luxurious, to make its occupants feel special. Designed to loosen any guards so they’ll be down when I spy on every movement from the safety of my office monitors or my phone.
The perfect spot to record the moment I take Crimson’s virginity. I’ll have my choice of angles when I splice a short film together to show my brother when I have a front-row seat of his guilt. Of his pain.
When I’ve checked everything is working, I turn my attention back to the girl sitting on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders are hunched so far up, they’re level with her ears. I need to loosen her up, or I might really hurt her.
And that’s unnecessary. At most I want to mark her a little. Nothing wrong with a hickey to remind a kid brother that his isn’t the only loose tongue in the family. Or a bite mark on her breast that she can look at every morning and night for the next week and…
No. This isn’t about her. She’s irrelevant. Just a vehicle to deliver a message to my brother and a rebuke to her father. Nothing more.
I could take her hand again, guide her to my cock and make her stroke it. Not that she needed much encouragement. She could warm me and herself up at the same time, then I can push her back and fuck her so hard that it won’t matter if she next has sex in a day or a decade, she’ll still feel my imprint deep inside.
“Is something wrong?”
My eyes jump to her, startled by the interruption. As I frown, she shivers again, her bare shoulders exposed to the cold.
“Get undressed.”
“What?” She leaps from the bed, hands raising in defence. Shock spins her pupils out so wide her eyes shade to black. “Now? I…”
This is better. This should kickstart my desire.
I tuck my phone back in my pocket before sprawling in an ornate tapestry chair, the arms carved from rich Kauri timber. When she doesn’t move, I nod to her and repeat, “Get undressed.”
Her eyes dart towards the wardrobe, the bathroom, the door behind her, but I shake my head. “Here. In front of me.”
She backs up a step, a flush rising across her shoulders and bleeding upwards until her cheeks are stained bright red. I shift my body forward, elbows on knees, watching every slight motion as she weighs up her options.
“This is going to happen,” I say in a soft voice, scared of spooking her further. “I promised your father a lot for your hand in marriage. I want to be sure I’m getting my money’s worth.”
Her voice breaks as she croaks out the word, “And?”
“And what?”
“What happens next if you decide you haven’t?”
A smile eases onto my lips and spreads wider and wider. “Then it’s too late but at least I’ll know.” When she still doesn’t move to obey, I gesture her closer. It takes half a minute of coaxing to get her to move one step, then she lunges forward until she’s within touching distance.
I spread my legs apart, giving her room to step between them as I take hold of her trembling hands. “Either you do this, or I’ll be the one to strip your clothes off you. Would you prefer that?”
Her teeth snap together as she whips her head from side to side. She removes her sandals before her shaking hands rise to the fastening on the back of her dress. She unbuttons it, catching the halter when it falls forward and holding it in place.
There’s a glow in her eyes, hard to catch as she stares at the wall behind me, her expression set in hard lines. I wait for the next step, and she surprises me by lifting a hand to her hair, tugging it free.
The ringlets spring into a halo around her face. I reach forward to grab the end of one, stretching it to its full length before letting go, entranced as it springs back into place.
Just when I think I’m going to have to help her, Crimson lets go of the dress and shimmies her hips, so it pools down at her ankles. She steps free, lifting the material and folding it neatly on the bed beside her.
Her bra and underwear are basic cotton. White. There’s a stretch to the elastic band of her pants that shows they’re old. Comfortable. Serviceable.
