Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“No, I can’t.”
My chest shudders with my breaths, as tortured as that look in his eyes and crazily, I begin, “But it…”
“It breaks the circle, doesn’t it,” he completes my thought.
Swallowing thickly, I nod. “It ruins the ending.”
God, this is crazy.
This is so, so crazy. It doesn’t make sense. It does not make sense at all, what we’re saying, what we’re doing. We need to leave. We should get out of the closet. But for the life of me, I can’t make my legs move.
For the life of me, I can’t seem to walk away from him.
“So there’s only one thing we can do, isn’t there?” he rasps.
I look at him with pleading eyes. “What?”
“You do it for me.”
“W-what?”
He comes ever so closer, his eyes glinting. “If I can’t touch your tits, then you’re going to have to touch them. For me.”
“You want me to—”
“Yeah.”
“But…”
“That’s the only way this can happen.”
I bite my lip, my heart racing like crazy. “I’m… I don’t…”
“Do it,” he commands, licking his lips. “Unbutton your blouse.”
My chest is heaving, caving in on itself. “I… My blouse?”
“Yeah, unbutton it.”
“What? I… No.”
That’s the right answer, isn’t it?
It doesn’t feel like it, but it is. And I’m proud of myself for finally saying something that makes sense. For finally acting like a rational human being instead of this lovesick, lustsick, heartsick, just sick, sick, sick girl.
I can’t do this.
I absolutely cannot do this.
But I want to do this.
I so, so want to do this.
And I don’t know how to make myself do it and…
My thoughts break when I notice something passing through his features at my no. Something dark and dangerous and oh so cold and yet so beautiful. That it takes my breath away. It makes my fingers tingle, itching to do what he’s asking me to.
“That’s the thing, though,” he says, lowering his face toward me.
I inch up mine until I think we’re breathing over each other. “What thing?”
“If you don’t unbutton your blouse, I’m going to have to make you.”
“You—”
“I’m going to have to force it.” He licks his lips. “And you remember what will happen if I do it, don’t you? I told you. That night.”
He did.
He told me, the night of the charity event, what will happen if he has to force me.
“Y-yes.”
“Tell me,” he invites. “Tell me what will happen if I put my hands on your tiny little blouse.”
“You will r-rip it,” I say, my voice barely there. “You’ll rip my blouse. You’ll tear my buttons. You’ll…”
“I’ll what?”
“You’ll…” God, my heart is pounding and pounding. “You’ll wreck my dress and strip me naked.”
“Yeah, I will,” he confirms, his gaze swirling. “If I get my hands on your blouse, it won’t survive the night. Your tiny little buttons will be a thing of history and all the things your pallu is supposed to cover will spill out in the open. For everyone to see. And of course that will piss me off. You know that, don’t you? Not only because I’ll be forced to ruin this sparkly dress fit for a fiery fucking princess like you, my Lolita, but also because they’ll all get to see what only I have the right to.”
At his words, I swear I feel my buttons strain. “But you don’t—”
“So isn’t it better if you just do as I tell you and both your dress and the people who may see what I don’t want them to see get to live a long and a happy life?”
“Yes.”
“So then why don’t you do the honors?”
And I finally understand.
I finally believe what he told me. About his blackmail being a favor to me. Because then I could pretend I didn’t want it. I didn’t want that one night with him. I could lie and say that he made me do it.
But it’s not true, is it?
I haven’t let myself think about his one-night proposition beyond what is appropriate and proper. But I’m thinking now, and I realize that I wanted—want—it so badly. I wanted that one night with him so, so badly that given the first chance, I would’ve taken it and run to him.
I would’ve ruined everything before fixing it.
And then I would’ve blamed myself.
So he took the blame away. He took the blame on himself. He did it to protect me even when he was trying to hurt me.
He’s doing the same thing here.
Because I’m dying to show him my tits.
I’ve been dying ever since I met him and so he’s making it so that I can. Without drowning in guilt, without blaming myself.
God, I love—
No, no, no.
I don’t.
I can’t.
This is all there is. This one night.
I lick my lips. “But I… This is blackmail.”
“I am a man with bad intentions.”
No, he’s not.
He’s so not.
“If I… If I do this, you’ll give me my pallu back?”
He stares at my lips for a moment before saying, “Cross my heart.”