Page 40 of Do It For Me

I focus on his scars, some are larger than others, and while I’m practically drooling over him, I wonder how he got those.

His gaze lingers on my bare breasts. I have a couple of scars there. I fight the urge to cover myself. I don’t have to hide… But what if he realises I’m disgusting and regrets this? Is that why he pulled away?

He’s going to ask me to leave.

He’ll leave me, that’s it. He’ll—

He holds my hand and presses it to his chest, right over the tattoo.

His heart is pounding as fast and hard as mine.

“I’m as nervous as you are,amore,” he whispers. “Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not—”

He nods toward my free hand. It’s trembling uncontrollably. Embarrassed, I close my eyes and pull it away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We don’t have to do anything. We could watch a movie, talk, whatever you want.”

When I open my eyes, he’s only a few inches away, a reassuring smile softening his face. I lift my hand to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. My thumb brushes over the scar on his skin.

He smiles, and I can’t help but wonder...

“How did you get this?” I ask softly.

“Fighting for someone.”

I arch my eyebrows. Maybe that’s why he got the statue. “Was it worth it?” I can’t imagine anyone being okay with ruining their face for someone else.

“Every scar,” he replies without hesitation.

Something strange stirs in my chest. I lower my hand to his neck and gently pull him toward me. He presses his body against mine, his hands grazing over my thighs and bottom.

He’s as soft as he was that day in the meadow, but now there’s a desperate need in his touch. Yet, he remains just as careful and caring.

His hand glides to the back of my thigh, effortlessly lifting me as he lowers me onto the bed, his body hovering over mine.

“Spread her open. I want to break her.”

No…

His hand brushes over my nipple.

His teeth sink into my skin so hard I’m certain he’ll tear me apart. A screeching scream rips from my throat, but it only makes them laugh. They keep biting, one after the other, each new spot burning.

I’m about to beg again when one of them forces himself inside me.

He kills me.

“I can’t,” I gasp, jerking away. “Please, please, let me go.”

“It’s okay, Lana. You’re—“

“You’re delicious, kid. I can’t wait for you to be all mine.”

I close my eyes and kick the man in front of me. I crawl away until my back hits the headboard, frantically covering myself as much as I can.

Please, leave. Leave me alone. I want to be alone. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want any more torture.