The Wicked Games We Play

Chapter | One

"TAKE THE DRESS OFF," he demanded in his low tenor, eyes blazing with something akin to lust. It was an emotion so foreign it made my entire body tremble with — what? Trepidation? Excitement? — I couldn't pinpoint what it was, but it made my nerves ignite, blood boil and send an electric current of thrills flowing up and down my spine. Yeah, it was fucking intense. He wasn't like anyone else. His mere presence was intoxicatingly overwhelming, and it beckoned to something deep inside me. Something so primal, so carnal, that even I didn't know it existed. "Now."

     Without any further hesitation, I did as I was told, immediately following his orders like an obedient pet seeking it's master's approval.

     But why did I want his approval? More importantly, why did I feel like I needed it?

     Because of the pounding pulse in my ear, I saw rather than heard his sharp intake of breath when I finally let the dress slip from my fingertips and pool around my stiletto-clad feet.

     He drank me in appreciatively from top to bottom before his captivatingly light eyes settled on mine and burned further with ignited passion. As if something had awakened in him. He looked pleased, satisfied with whatever it was he saw that I couldn't.

     Suddenly, he started towards me with powerful, determined steps and somehow, I barely managed to stand completely still, almost too afraid to even breathe.

A FEW HOURS EARLIER

     For whatever reason, from the moment I woke up earlier that morning I had a feeling that it was going to be an interesting start to the weekend. I don't know why, but something in my gut told me—no, warned me—that whatever it was it was going to be huge; maybe even life-altering. But heading warnings wasn't really my thing. I had shit to do and work was one of them.

     I was studying my reflection, meticulously inspecting my appearance in the mirror. I honestly don't know why since I didn't feel any different than I had the previous night and no matter how much I stared it all looked the same. Same light brown eyes; same long, dark brown hair; same lighter-than-copper-toned skin. My cheeks were still chubby; my nose still looked like a small bulb, and my chin was still short and rounded at the tip. The only thing I liked about my face was that my forehead was less than a four and more of a three; I had naturally long, thick lashes; and my lips had the perfect pout — or at least what I consider the perfect pout. That could just be my bias talking, though.

     That should be good enough, I nod at my reflection after adjusting my hair.

     I glanced over my shoulder at the clock on my nightstand and made the simple adjustments to my thigh-high stockings before I go about slipping on my worn-in black combat boots. It was all part of my nightly routine before heading out to work, and tonight was no different.

     I cast one final backward glance at myself in the reflection of my body-length mirror. Satisfied with the dark grey t-shirt dress that fell just above the top edge of the stockings, I grabbed my bag with all the essentials and headed out at the stroke of ten.

     I remember moving to Miami four years ago when I turned eighteen. It was right after I graduated from high school.

     Shit. I was so young and naive then.

     It's not that I regretted the move, but I wish things had turned out differently. I wish I could've been able to achieve things a little sooner, and that maybe my home life was a little different. That my parents were different. Unfortunately, there were things beyond my control and my neglectful parents were one of those things.