He isn’t wrong. I’ve never had an orgasm during intercourse with a man. Never. Not to say that the sex didn’t feel good. It did. It just didn’t make me shout incoherent words and dig my fingers into his flesh while my toes curled.
“Say that you’ll be my submissive.”
I actually sort of like the demand that I hear in his voice. And I liked it earlier too when he told me to bend over and place my palms on the table.
That spanking.
I liked it.
But I’m not ready to admit that to anyone other than myself.
“I need more time to think about this.”
He rubs his hand over his face. “I understand that this is new to you, and I’m trying to be patient, but fuck… you’re giving me a bad case of blue balls. I need your answer by tomorrow night.”
I can’t fuck him tomorrow night. I’m not ready. “Give me until the next night? Forty-eight hours?”
I can see by his expression that he isn’t pleased to hear my request for an extra day. But he can just suck it up. I should have an extra day if that’s what I want; it’s my freedom, my body, my dignity on the line. Not his.
“You have forty-eight hours to decide between my bed or jail. Choose wisely.”
* * *
I trustthat you’ll be here when I come home from work. Don’t disappoint me, Emma Lia.
Those were the last words that Tristan said to me before he left this morning. I must admit that leaving crossed my mind more than once, but Tristan’s threats are keeping me here. I believe him when he says that he will turn me over to the authorities.
Being in his house is comparable to being in a prison that I built around myself, and I am the only guard preventing my own escape. That makes being here even more dreadful.
All of this is my fault. I put myself in this position. In Tristan’s path.
I already know that I’m going to say yes to his indecent proposal. I’m not in a position to decline, but I’m not yet ready to begin fulfilling my debt. I need the next day and a half to mentally prepare myself for the things that are going to happen to me and my body.
This isn’t going to be only physical. It’s going to wear on me mentally and emotionally. I hope that I’m not fucked up ninety-nine different ways after this ordeal ends.
Tristan told me that I didn’t have to be confined to my bedroom.My bedroom.Those two words make me quiver even when only said inside my head where my ears can’t hear them. It makes this all too real.
One would think that he would have given me an official tour of the house since I’m going to be living here. But I’m quickly discovering that Tristan isn’t like most people. The man is one of a kind. Lucky for the world.
“Good morning, miss,” Ray says when I come into the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
“What would miss like for breakfast this morning?”
I’m not a big breakfast eater. Never have been. “Juice works for me.”
“Mr. Broussard wants you to eat a real breakfast.”
Well, I would ask why but I already know the answer. Because Mr. Broussard is a control freak.
“Cereal will be fine with me.” Preferably Froot Loops with marshmallows.
“He won’t like your eating cereal. Plus, we don’t have any.”
Is he shitting me? “He wants to choose what kind of foods I eat?”
“You may choose the foods as long as they are nutritious for your body.”
