Page 35 of Twisted Proposal

"Back to my dorm. I'm sober enough to get back safely." I tried not to stare at his large, powerful hands and think about all the things he could do with them.

Had those hands brought people pain? Taken the lives of men? Had they brought pleasure to women?

"I don't think so. You misbehaved, little girl. You will take your punishment." His words sent a dark thrill through me, but I still took another step toward the door.

"I'm sorry I got drunk. I didn't realize how much I actually drank. It won't happen again."

"I know it won't, not after your punishment." He took a long step, getting closer to me. "Are you going to take it like a good girl, or are you going to make it worse for yourself?"

His hands went to his belt, and all sorts of dirty ideas went through my mind. Was he going to force me to my knees, make me suck his cock? Or fuck me into submission?

No one would stop him.

I couldn't even if I wanted to, and I still wasn't sure if I wanted to stop him.

My mind swam with filthy ideas and my core clenched at the images of the things he could make me do. I must have been drunker than I thought.

I shouldn't have wanted any of those things. He was practically a stranger. I didn't want him, but my body betrayed me.

Heat flooded my core and my knees weakened as he gave me another look while unbuckling the belt.

He pulled the leather strap free. My heart raced and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end at the hushedswoosh.

Still, I took another step back, and he took another one forward.

I expected him to drop the belt on the floor or maybe drape it over the chair.

Instead, he folded it in half and slapped the leather against his palm. The sharp crack echoed through the quiet room, reverberating in my chest like a second heartbeat.

"Well, Viktoria? Are you going to be a good girl and take your punishment, or?—"

I didn't listen to the rest of that sentence.

I turned and ran to the door, just getting my hands on the brass knob when Artem's hand wrapped around my neck, his fingers gripping under my jaw.

His other arm wrapped across my torso as he pulled me into his body. His chest a wall of solid muscle against my back.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, pet," he whispered into my ear as he dragged me away from the door. "I was hoping you were going to make this a little more interesting."

"Get off of me," I shouted, squirming and prying at his arms in a futile struggle against his grip.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he pulled me into the bedroom. The pressure wasn't enough to cut off my air, just enough to remind me who was in control.

The shock was enough to shake the rest of the haze from my mind as I tried to fight him off.

He wasn't letting go.

"Take off your skirt," he growled, his breath hot against my ear.

"No," I begged. "Please, I promise I will be good."

"Then be good and take off your skirt. You will only make it worse by fighting."

"I'll scream," I warned.

"Do it. No one can hear you."

I had no idea if he was bluffing or not, but I believed him. The way he said it—absolute, final—left no room for doubt.