Chapter 5 5. Alma - The Prison 5
I try to shrug him off of me, but he’s a lot stronger than I am, which means that I need to plan my next steps very carefully, because I don’t know what he wants to do to me, but I might have an idea–hurt me.
He switches the knife from one hand to the other and cuts open my other sleeve–all the way to the neckline. The only thing preventing my dress from falling is his body pressing hard against me.
“You’re a very sick individual,” I tell him, something that he must have heard many times already.
“Why do you think I’m in here?” he says, his mouth so close to my ear, his lips almost touching it.
“Because you work here?” I try to guess.
He laughs at that. “Because I tried to turn Carlos’s woman into sushi. Too bad he caught me just as I was starting and called me a traitor. But I think being called a Rogue Duke has a ring to it, don’t you ?”
I should have guessed he’s a Duke.
“Too bad indeed,” I agreed, because Salma is really a bitch and deserves to die.
He takes one step back, allowing the dress to pool at my feet. He leaves my panties on. For now.
A second later, he turns on the water. The moment it touches my skin, running down my back, I let out a loud shriek, and he laughs.
“It’s fucking freezing, you sick fuck!” I yell as I try to move away from it. Not to mention that my boots will get ruined. “Turn it off!”
He laughs harder. “Did you really think I’d shower you with hot water?”
“What?” I ask over my shoulder.
His body presses against mine once more, his skin warm against my cold one. “If you want commodities here, you have to be ready to pay for them with your body.”
This actually angers me.
“I’m not a whore,” I hiss while trying not to think of how cold the water is.
“Sometimes, you have to whore yourself to survive, especially in this place. The real question, kitten, is–are you willing to do whatever it takes to survive, or are you going to be used, broken, and discarded like so many other women before you?”
This motherfucker thinks he can break me, but he will soon understand that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t break someone who’s used to destroying men like him. He thinks he’s the hunter, but it won’t be long before he realizes he’s the prey—and I’m the monster hiding in his closet.
“I will survive without having to whore myself out for anyone,” I assure him.
I might occasionally open my legs and allow a man to take a small sip of my taste, but he’s the one whoring himself out, not me.
“That’s what all of them say before they get on their knees and start sucking cock,” the officer says as he steps away and angles the showerhead so the freezing water hits me directly on the back of my head.
My teeth start to chatter. Being cold always pisses me off, so I yell, “¡Vete a la mierda, puto cabrón de mierda!” Go to hell, you fucking piece of shit.
I hate the cold. Summer is my favorite season, and if I could, I’d spend all my free time at the beach, soaking up the sun. Winter, on the other hand, is my least favorite time of the year.
“What was that?” the guard inquires. “Did you just say that you’re happy to finally get a much-needed shower?”
I don’t reply, at least not for a while, but when it becomes clear that he doesn’t care that I’m going into hypothermia, I realize that I have to play nice and even pretend to be willing to suck his dick—at least until I’m free of the handcuffs.
Gritting my teeth, I try to put on my best seductive voice. “You have no idea how happy I am to be washed by you, but you might want to hurry up, unless you want me to get sick. Then you’ll have to take care of me, and trust me, you don’t want to know how grumpy I am when I’m sick.”
Having the flu is the worst.
The officer steps behind me, his tall body shielding me from the cold water. He’s so fucking warm. I shouldn’t like this as much as I do because he’s a fucking asshole, but I can’t help it, so I press my back against his torso, needing more of his body heat.
His arms wrap around my waist, and he murmurs into my ear, his lips gently brushing against my skin, “I like it when my kitten rubs herself all over my body.”
He did not just refer to me as kitten. I thought Southern men used darling and sweetheart, not kitten. Whatever, I’m not about to fight him over that. He can call me whatever he wants; he’s still an asshole.
When he least expects it, he will learn that this kitten has claws so fucking sharp they will cut him into pieces so small that no one will be able to find them once I’m done with him.
I just have to be patient and see what this place is about first.
If Rogue Dukes are locked in here, it’s for an important reason, and my curiosity has to be satisfied.
I must proceed with caution because I’m on my own, and if any of them realize what I do for a living, they might get the wrong impression. It has happened several times before.
