see what was going on. She walked to the door outside and found it locked. That was strange, usually door s lock from the inside. Latching it from the outside made her uncomfortable, why was Jarrod Jacobs so worried about keeping something in?
She walked back towards the cart and ran into the sharp edge of a low bench. “Fuck,” she exclaimed, then shut her mouth when she heard how it echoed in the quiet space. She bent down to rub her shin where she had made contact with the bench.
She slowly stood up and thought she heard something again. The smallest whisper of fabric or a misplaced foot, but before she could determine the direction it was from, there was a hand clamped over her mouth and one gripping tight around her neck.
She panicked and struggled against the pressure, but had no chance. She deduced it was a man who had captured her, and his grip was iron strong. She saw bright lights blooming in the corners of her eyes behind her closed lids. She tried to take a breath but her efforts were met with resis tance under the determined hand that had her tight. Every nerve ending was alight and she felt as though she were falling into a deep abyss.
She tried again, one last ditched effort as she felt her consciousness slipping away. The man was breathing hard in her ear, she thought from exertion until her body slipped and she brushed against his thick hardness restrained in his pants. She tried to whimper, “Please don’t…” but no words made it past the hand around her neck. With a small shudder and a gasp, she lost her grip on the world and slipped into darkness.
Chapter Seven – Dimitri
He took a carefully controlled breath and nudged the door to the room open with his foot. It was a windowless space in the centre of the penthouse. It was designed for maximum control with minimum effort, so a single man could truss up a willing victim in no time flat. The architect had raised his eyebrows at his request, then sat back and nodded knowingly when Dimitri described it. Dimitri had the distinct impression that this wasn’t the strangest thing one of his rich clients had asked for.
He set her on the narrow wooden platform in the centre of the room and stepped back. She really was magnificent. From this angle he saw her pulse beating steadily on the curve of her neck. Her breasts were full and round and moved slowly as she breathed. Her legs were long for her body, lean and gently angled under the black tights she had on. Her stomach was flat and her hips wide, triggering some primal instinct to cover her like a stallion and fuck her until she was his and only his.
He shook his head and tried to concentrate. It must have been too long in between whores, that was all. He pulled her arms over her head and used silken white ropes to bind her there. He blindfolded her, aga in regretted not seeing her eyes, and moved to her feet. He pulled her legs apart and made sure she couldn’t move. He would wait by her side until she woke.
He dragged a heavy mahogany corner chair close to the platform. The fact that he knew it was a corner chair carved from mahogany made him smile to himself and glance towards to girl. She looked like th e delicate kind of little dove who would look him up and down, take note of the many expensive items located about his space, and find him lacking. Girls who possessed this kind of rare beauty always sniffed out the grubby street urchin he had once been, no matter how much couture he draped on his body or how much money he threw at his past in an attempt to outrun it.
He sat carefully, felt the wood creak under his muscular frame, and watched her. She was dressed in all black form fitting clothes. A black hoodie, zipp ed up, black yoga pants and ankle high black leather army boots. Nothing expensive or remarkable.
He moved as though startled as a thought crossed his mind. He needed to look for identification. He was a man familiar with killing or fuc king women such as her. This
She walked back towards the cart and ran into the sharp edge of a low bench. “Fuck,” she exclaimed, then shut her mouth when she heard how it echoed in the quiet space. She bent down to rub her shin where she had made contact with the bench.
She slowly stood up and thought she heard something again. The smallest whisper of fabric or a misplaced foot, but before she could determine the direction it was from, there was a hand clamped over her mouth and one gripping tight around her neck.
She panicked and struggled against the pressure, but had no chance. She deduced it was a man who had captured her, and his grip was iron strong. She saw bright lights blooming in the corners of her eyes behind her closed lids. She tried to take a breath but her efforts were met with resis tance under the determined hand that had her tight. Every nerve ending was alight and she felt as though she were falling into a deep abyss.
She tried again, one last ditched effort as she felt her consciousness slipping away. The man was breathing hard in her ear, she thought from exertion until her body slipped and she brushed against his thick hardness restrained in his pants. She tried to whimper, “Please don’t…” but no words made it past the hand around her neck. With a small shudder and a gasp, she lost her grip on the world and slipped into darkness.
Chapter Seven – Dimitri
He took a carefully controlled breath and nudged the door to the room open with his foot. It was a windowless space in the centre of the penthouse. It was designed for maximum control with minimum effort, so a single man could truss up a willing victim in no time flat. The architect had raised his eyebrows at his request, then sat back and nodded knowingly when Dimitri described it. Dimitri had the distinct impression that this wasn’t the strangest thing one of his rich clients had asked for.
He set her on the narrow wooden platform in the centre of the room and stepped back. She really was magnificent. From this angle he saw her pulse beating steadily on the curve of her neck. Her breasts were full and round and moved slowly as she breathed. Her legs were long for her body, lean and gently angled under the black tights she had on. Her stomach was flat and her hips wide, triggering some primal instinct to cover her like a stallion and fuck her until she was his and only his.
He shook his head and tried to concentrate. It must have been too long in between whores, that was all. He pulled her arms over her head and used silken white ropes to bind her there. He blindfolded her, aga in regretted not seeing her eyes, and moved to her feet. He pulled her legs apart and made sure she couldn’t move. He would wait by her side until she woke.
He dragged a heavy mahogany corner chair close to the platform. The fact that he knew it was a corner chair carved from mahogany made him smile to himself and glance towards to girl. She looked like th e delicate kind of little dove who would look him up and down, take note of the many expensive items located about his space, and find him lacking. Girls who possessed this kind of rare beauty always sniffed out the grubby street urchin he had once been, no matter how much couture he draped on his body or how much money he threw at his past in an attempt to outrun it.
He sat carefully, felt the wood creak under his muscular frame, and watched her. She was dressed in all black form fitting clothes. A black hoodie, zipp ed up, black yoga pants and ankle high black leather army boots. Nothing expensive or remarkable.
He moved as though startled as a thought crossed his mind. He needed to look for identification. He was a man familiar with killing or fuc king women such as her. This
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