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He moves so that he's directly in front of me, blocking my field of vision. I look down, unable to meet his obsidian gaze.
“That’s what makes our little game so much fun.” His voice is smooth, unnaturally smooth considering the conversation we’re having. “If you weren’t afraid, this wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable as it is.”
“Why do you want me to be scared of you, Jackson?”
I’m trying to understand him, trying to figure out why seeing the blood drain from my face when I know I’ve got nowhere to run gets him off.
Even worse, I’m trying to understand why I agreed to it in the first place.
His hand cups my chin and tilts it up, forcing me to look at him.
“Aren’t pretty girls supposed to be scared of monsters?”
What if I’m more afraid of myself and the lines that I didn’t even know I was willing to cross. Tonight has shown me that maybe I’m not the girl who wants to run away from the monster, but maybe the one who secretly wants to be found by him.
“How does this end?” I ask, letting out the breath I was holding.
He looks up at the sky and then back at me. “You’re free when the sun comes up, Blair. Until then, you belong to me.”
I gulp, trying to ignore the thrumming between my legs at his possessiveness.
“That leads me to something else. We need a safe word. I’ve held back as long as I can, but now I want to see just how far we can take this.”
I can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes my lips. “You call that holding back?”
Jackson frowns. “Princess, I can promise you I’ve held back. The things I want to do to you…” He trails off, his mind seemingly going through a slideshow of all the depravity he wants to unleash on me. “In order for me to do those things I need you to understand that while I am in control, you still have power.”
“A safe word,” I repeat, my mind racing through all the possible things that would require one.
“Yes, it can be whatever you want. Just know, when you say it, everything stops.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” I ask.
Something dark shimmers in his eyes and it sends a chill over my body.
“Yes,” he replies, offering me a sickly sweet smile.
I should run.
Not run and hide like before, just run. Run to my car and get the fuck out of here before I go too far.
Every single shred of logic within me is screaming that I need to get as far away from this man as humanly possible.
But then there is a new voice, whispering, “You won’t run. You can’t. You want this. You want him to hurt you, and you’re going to like it.”
I grab a strand of hair and twist it between my fingertips, a nervous habit I’ve had for as long as I can remember.
“The safe word?” he asks again, and I take my bottom lip into my mouth.
“I don’t know, just any word?”
“Whatever you want.”
I look around me, trying to think of something. It seems only fitting that I choose something that matches the setting.
There is a ticket booth close by, a few trash cans, and a row of portable toilets.
None of that seems appropriate.
