“Pet, stop and look at me.” It took her a moment to calm. When she finally lifted her eyes, her breathing was ragged. “Why do you wear it?”
She shook her head, looking away. “You said you were fine with me?—”
“Eyes on me,” I snapped.
Her contacts looked up at me. They were a light brown, almost bronze, today. I had no doubt that her pupils were wider than they looked under the fake irises. “Master, I…” She swallowed but did not shield her gaze.
“Why?” I demanded. “Give me a reason and I’ll let it be. Why do you wear the wigs? Were you sick? You have natural hairelsewhere. Did something happen to your head hair? Why, pet? Just give me a reason.”
Tears formed but did not fall. She gasped out. “I can’t look at you, Sir. Please don’t make me look at you.”
My chest hurt at the request, but I honored her need. Carefully, I extracted myself from inside her and lowered her feet to the ground. As I stepped back, I took hold of the used condom so it didn’t fall.
My little owl righted her clothing. She even put her shoes back on. However, I did not. I tied off the condom and tossed it onto my discarded shirt and pants on the floor. I’d take care of it later. Our food was still in the delivery bag in front of the door, where I’d dropped it unceremoniously.
She looked like she was getting ready to run. Antsy and jumpy, she was so different than the woman who’d leapt into my arms upon me opening the door.
“Little Owl—” But she held her hand up to stop me. I would have reprimanded her for that, but her hand was shaking so badly, it looked like it was attached to a motor.
“I have to go.” She turned to leave.
“No.” The word was not a panicked, desperate plea made out of fear, but a sharp, stern demand.
She froze, half turned towards the door. “Excuse me?”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s one, pet. Want to try that again?”
She swallowed hard. “Sir, I wish to leave. May I?”
“No.”
She turned towards me, her eyes narrowed in a glare.
“That’s two, pet.” I crossed my arms over my bare chest. “Are you going to make it three?”
Her nostrils flared, and for a moment, I actually thought she was going to. Then she sank to her knees before me, her elbow hitting the bag that held our dinner. She was not in a formal position, too slumped over for that. But it looked like she had herarms wrapped around her stomach, as if needing to hold herself together.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she sniffled. “I panicked. I’m sorry.”
I held my ground, despite that all I wanted to do was to take her into my arms. But she didn’t need soft and comforting right now. She needed strength and guidance. “Tell me why you wanted to run, pet.”
“I don’t want to tell you, Sir. I don’t want you to…” She curled into herself. “I don’t want you to pity me.”
Shit. I’d suspected, since the day she told me that bondage and being taken from behind were hard limits for her. Add in the fact that she naturally compartmentalized pain? Yeah, I knew what she was going to say.
One in four. Fuck, those were horrible odds.
Did I pity her? No. I was angry on her behalf, wanted to murder her assaulter, but I didn’t pity her. She was too strong for that. Look at what she’d overcome. We’d been having sex for weeks. And the way she submitted? The way she succumbed to the lust between us? It was utterly breathtaking. She was far too beautiful, too spirited, to cower.
“Stand.”
She jumped. Startled, her eyes wide, she looked up at me. “What?”
“That’s three,” I held up my fingers. “Stand or I double it.”
My little owl leapt to her feet. Her movements were not as graceful as they normally were and she was still shaking slightly. Though her head was tipped downward, her eyes landed on me.
I nodded my approval. “Good girl. Let’s hope you don’t make it to four before this conversation is done.”
