“You can look,” he whispered. “I have full intention of looking at you.” His shoulders bunched as he reached over his head and grabbed the back of his t-shirt. With a dark glare, he wrenched the fabric off, undressing a torso I’d only seen in my fantasies.
For a man with mixed authenticities, his body wasn’t confused as to what made him excel in this world. Long, lithe arms with perfectly proportioned biceps and tight forearms. Broad but not too broad chest with pectorals and obliques and a washboard stomach that seemed too strong for his skin.
But none of that mattered as my eyes drifted toward the sweeping masterpiece.
I sucked in an awed breath.
His ribcage was visible. His flesh open, revealing a dragon hidden beneath the bones.
That can’t be.
But it was.
My fingers itched to prove it, to insert my hand into the chamber of his chest and stroke the hissing reptile within.
Somewhere inside me, I knew it wasn’t real, just excellent trickery. Whoever had done the ink had made it look so three dimensional, so realistic, I swore I looked into his body and witnessed his heart beating all while the slithering dragon exhaled smoke, protecting its master like the gatekeeper to his soul.
Mr. Prest didn’t move. Sitting on his heels, he allowed my inspection as I swayed forward, fooled into thinking if I turned left or right, I’d see his spleen, liver, and kidneys. The tattoo was so lifelike, so deep in detail, I squirmed at the thought of real bones pressing against me rather than encased in human flesh.
“It’s not real.” He ran his palm over his side that looked cavernous and gaping. His fingers whispered over his muscles with no blood from an exposed ribcage or being bitten by the hissing dragon in his cavity. “See?”
Dropping his hand, he cocked his chin at my frozen form. “What I do, you must too.” His eyebrow rose, finishing his sentence. Remove yours.
I stiffened.
Being naked in front of him didn’t scare me. Nakedness was just another dress code. Master A had cured me of private places or secret spots on my body.
But that was before I saw his beauty, both natural and adorned.
All I had to offer were muddy bruises and sun-deprived skin.
Mr. Prest lowered his jaw, his eyes darkening. “Obey.”
The word rippled from his mouth to my ears. Making me angry and itchy and dazed.
He wants to look?
Fine.
The longer I spent in his company, the more I sensed hesitation on his part. He wasn’t like others who would’ve spun me around and taken me over the bed the moment the door was in place.
He wasn’t here to take me quickly.
He wasn’t here to take something physical.
What does he want?
And what will happen if he gets it?
Sitting upward on my knees, I cocked my chin at the corner of the room, searching once again for the portal where Master A watched. Gritting my teeth, expecting the door to soar open with shrapnel and cannon fire, I grabbed the hem of the white dress and jerked it over my head.
The air-conditioned breeze licked around my flesh. I prickled with awareness as Mr. Prest sucked in a breath, his vision tracing paths from my lips to nipples to core.
The way he watched me frothed my stomach.
I wasn’t beautiful like him.
But for some reason, he saw something in me that I’d lost so long ago.
Leaning forward, he snatched the dress from my hands and threw it on the floor. “Fuck, it’s worse than I thought. So much bloody worse.”
Worse?
Any confidence he’d granted ripped into tear-filled bubbles.
Worse!?
How dare he say such a thing!
With nothing to hide myself with, I wrapped my arms around my body, doing my best to shield my nakedness that he called the worst he’d ever seen.
Anger swatted at my dismay. This wasn’t what I chose. I didn’t want to be this skinny and broken. How dare he destroy me so callously?
I almost wanted Master A to appear. At least, no matter how ugly and beaten I was, he always wanted me.
Mr. Prest shifted, his large hands cupping the bulge between his legs. “I’d planned on finding pleasure from you tonight.” He wasn’t subtle as his cupping turned to grasping—the outline of his cock a thick rod in his trousers. “I’d planned on fucking you because, despite your awful fashion sense and wild hair, you turned me on.”
Turned me on.
Not turn me on.
I should be grateful his attraction was past tense. It meant whatever these mad few minutes had been, it was over before Master A stormed in.
He glanced at what he stroked. “Does that scare you?”
That you wanted me?
No.
I’d been pretty, once upon a time, but it didn’t mean my dark brown hair and mossy eyes were what all boys found attractive. However, in this environment, I could safely say all men wanted me. Because all the men I came into contact with were heathenous hounds, not seeing me for me but for what I represented: the freedom to fuck and hurt with no repercussions.
Until him, of course.
My head swam as confusion made me dizzy.
“Unfortunately, now I’ve seen what he tried to hide beneath those awful clothes.” His upper lip curled with revulsion. “And it fucking changes everything.”
I couldn’t look up—couldn’t bear to stare at a man who hired me and then fired me the moment I stripped.
I was a slave.
I had nothing of my own.
My self-confidence was a battered, flimsy thing and he’d just taken the tiny scrap I had left and stomped all over it.