Bright pools of blood color her cheeks as she gazes up at me through hooded lids, her chest heaving up and down in unsteady breaths. There’s nothing but desire in her eyes, and it’s all for me. The monster. The man who doesn’t deserve her.
But here, right now, I do, because she makes me believe it. In every touch, in every glance, in every late-night conversation.
You can’t have her.
“Take the dress off,” I command.
She obeys immediately, stripping the fabric from her frame and bearing nothing but white lace over her breasts and cunt.
She isn’t yours.
“Now the bra.”
Again, Sabreena responds instantly, depositing the cups on the floor next to the dress before leaning back on her elbows. Her tan nipples draw tight under my gaze, invoking my curiosity of what they’ll look like in clamps.
She belongs to him.
That last thought is my undoing.