Read Online In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) by Tracy Ellen - Free Book Online
Authors: Tracy Ellen
Ads: Link
beautiful black cape settle on top of the filthy floor to be dragged through the grime. Actually, I’d peg him more as Leonardo DiCaprio’s pumpkin-headed brother, but who am I to get between a braying ass and his hero complex?
“ Go on then,” he urged, exposing his crooked front teeth in a delighted, but sly smile, “depends on what?”
“ Depends on if you plan to hurt me or not.”
H e paddled his plump hands gleefully several times on his bent knees, as if this was the best entertainment he’s had in months. I noticed he’s wearing several rings, including a diamond on his pinky. “And what if I do plan on hurting you?”
At his insinuated threat, I gingerly shifted on the seat of the chair to relieve the jabbing hurt in my splintered-filled buttocks. Fervently, I wished my foot was untied. I’d plant it square in his meat and two veg that’s so suggestively outlined in those creepy, tight pants and watch the pain grow.
My green teddy is a whisper of silk and lace that reveals more than it covers, but thankfully, I am not exposed on top since I am wound up in rope. Below is another story. I can’t see past the thick hemp to know what is showing, but I’m pretty sure the fabric is opaque and not sheer lace between my spread thighs. I’m also pretty sure this guy is gay, so I’m not worried about being raped any longer. I tried not to dwell on the sick idea that he could be a twisted freak show looking to hurt a woman, even if he doesn’t personally rape her.
Refusing to be intimidated by any of these thoughts, I narrowed my eyes at his threatening question. “You mean besides the hurt I already owe you for throwing me in a rotten potato sack, practically suffocating me, and then sticking a needle in my arm and injecting me with a drug,” my voice rose loudly, “all without even knowing if I had any goddamn allergies?”
Never losing the grin while he bounced in restless energy on his heels in front of me, he shrugged insouciantly. “Nothing personal, ladette, but that whole subduing bit was done entirely for your own safety. Couldn’t have you scrambling all over the place and cocking up the works, now could I? But yes, besides all that.”
I retorted decisively, “You would then be a dead ringer for the much older, uglier Cary Elwes in that movie where he’s a serial killer. The one where he gets his ass whipped by Ashley Judd because she’s a kick-boxer and he’s a dumbass!”
His head reared back , as if I’d struck him. “For fuck’s sake, I know that film! It’s called “Kiss the Girls”. You’re right; Cary did look an awful fright.” Shuddering theatrically, he placed a hand on each of my chilled knees and patted them consolingly. He added, the sly smile at play again, “Good thing I’m just winding you up and have no plans to hurt you, eh? So, it’s agreed-- I’m the young master Cary then?”
Even w ithout the ability to see his entire face, it’s still apparent to me the sly smile twisting his cherub lips was sincere and even slightly charming in an odd way. I hope I hadn’t succumbed to Stockholm syndrome in less than ten minutes, but my intuition said he wasn’t going to physically hurt me. The tension drained from my knotted muscles. I sagged a little in relief against the thick rope tying me to the chair. Now I was left with confusing questions.
S tarting off calmly enough and even trying to smile, I said, “Okay, Princess Bride, I believe you aren’t going to hurt me, but why have you stripped me down? I’m freezing!” Every time I think about that needle in my arm, I got furious all over again. I had to close my eyes and bite my tongue to not cuss him out. “Why am I tied up here and what are you planning on doing to me?”
With a flourish of his cape, the man stood up and pounded a fist to his chest. Pride vibrating through his falsetto voice, he proclaimed, “I am a Fixer!”
“A Fixer!” I echoed on a disbelieving laugh, coughing on an
“ Go on then,” he urged, exposing his crooked front teeth in a delighted, but sly smile, “depends on what?”
“ Depends on if you plan to hurt me or not.”
H e paddled his plump hands gleefully several times on his bent knees, as if this was the best entertainment he’s had in months. I noticed he’s wearing several rings, including a diamond on his pinky. “And what if I do plan on hurting you?”
At his insinuated threat, I gingerly shifted on the seat of the chair to relieve the jabbing hurt in my splintered-filled buttocks. Fervently, I wished my foot was untied. I’d plant it square in his meat and two veg that’s so suggestively outlined in those creepy, tight pants and watch the pain grow.
My green teddy is a whisper of silk and lace that reveals more than it covers, but thankfully, I am not exposed on top since I am wound up in rope. Below is another story. I can’t see past the thick hemp to know what is showing, but I’m pretty sure the fabric is opaque and not sheer lace between my spread thighs. I’m also pretty sure this guy is gay, so I’m not worried about being raped any longer. I tried not to dwell on the sick idea that he could be a twisted freak show looking to hurt a woman, even if he doesn’t personally rape her.
Refusing to be intimidated by any of these thoughts, I narrowed my eyes at his threatening question. “You mean besides the hurt I already owe you for throwing me in a rotten potato sack, practically suffocating me, and then sticking a needle in my arm and injecting me with a drug,” my voice rose loudly, “all without even knowing if I had any goddamn allergies?”
Never losing the grin while he bounced in restless energy on his heels in front of me, he shrugged insouciantly. “Nothing personal, ladette, but that whole subduing bit was done entirely for your own safety. Couldn’t have you scrambling all over the place and cocking up the works, now could I? But yes, besides all that.”
I retorted decisively, “You would then be a dead ringer for the much older, uglier Cary Elwes in that movie where he’s a serial killer. The one where he gets his ass whipped by Ashley Judd because she’s a kick-boxer and he’s a dumbass!”
His head reared back , as if I’d struck him. “For fuck’s sake, I know that film! It’s called “Kiss the Girls”. You’re right; Cary did look an awful fright.” Shuddering theatrically, he placed a hand on each of my chilled knees and patted them consolingly. He added, the sly smile at play again, “Good thing I’m just winding you up and have no plans to hurt you, eh? So, it’s agreed-- I’m the young master Cary then?”
Even w ithout the ability to see his entire face, it’s still apparent to me the sly smile twisting his cherub lips was sincere and even slightly charming in an odd way. I hope I hadn’t succumbed to Stockholm syndrome in less than ten minutes, but my intuition said he wasn’t going to physically hurt me. The tension drained from my knotted muscles. I sagged a little in relief against the thick rope tying me to the chair. Now I was left with confusing questions.
S tarting off calmly enough and even trying to smile, I said, “Okay, Princess Bride, I believe you aren’t going to hurt me, but why have you stripped me down? I’m freezing!” Every time I think about that needle in my arm, I got furious all over again. I had to close my eyes and bite my tongue to not cuss him out. “Why am I tied up here and what are you planning on doing to me?”
With a flourish of his cape, the man stood up and pounded a fist to his chest. Pride vibrating through his falsetto voice, he proclaimed, “I am a Fixer!”
“A Fixer!” I echoed on a disbelieving laugh, coughing on an
Similar Books
