Beauty & The Biker

Somehow, once I leave the kitchen I end up walking down an unfamiliar hall. I can see the faint glow of a TV screen coming from one of the rooms. I draw near the door hearing the low murmur of whispers, unsure if they are from the television or someone watching it. I peek around the door frame seeing Rain curled up on a sofa watching a movie with Tristian. He seems so relaxed with her unlike earlier. They are sharing popcorn and laughing. Her head is on his shoulder and I don’t like it. It shouldn’t bother me. I don’t even know him but them being so friendly and familiar with one another angers me. I feel jealous. I don’t want her hands on him and I don’t want him smiling at her. Tristian’s head swings toward my direction and I hurry back the way I came, not wanting him to catch me spying on him.

Three wrong turns later, I am back in the comfort of my new room. All night I keep having vague dreams of Tristian and what I imagined as our almost kiss. When I awaken, I swear I can feel the shadow of his mouth on mine. But when I open my eyes, I am alone.

I’m not ready to get out of bed but my body isn’t going to let me sleep in any longer. The sun is shining through hitting the blue roses, beautiful. I don’t remember opening the curtains though.

Stretching and groaning I climb out of the massive bed. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it last night, but I was focused on pajamas, the entire wardrobe is filled with replicas of the same white dress from yesterday. I guess I am to wear this every day. No bras or panties either. That isn’t going to work. No way no how.

I change into another white dress and go to the bathroom in search of my bra and panties from yesterday, determined to wash them and wear them, but they aren’t there.

Great! Looks like I will have to ask Tristian for them, but I guess I could ask Elsabeth to bring me mine from home. If she will make the trip. I am in the boonies. But then again, I don’t want my family knowing my real location.

Back in my room, I dig through my bag in search of my cellphone and it’s missing. Did Tristian confiscate my phone too? I need to check in and see how Papi is doing. I need to know Ariala is doing what is right for once.

Angry about my missing belongings, I march to his

room and slap my palm against the heavy door.

“Open up bucko,” I bark.

Nothing.

I try again, nothing. He must already be up or he hasn’t gone to bed. My mind flashes to him sleeping on the sofa downstairs with his whatever she is…I smack my palm against his door, this time in anger.

After searching the kitchen, I find Tristian sitting in an expansive library. It’s huge with floor to ceiling shelving full of books. It’s beautiful. I could get lost in here for hours escaping between the pages.

“Sleep well Isabella?” He is cocked back in his leather chair at the head of his desk, feeling powerful and in control of me. He’s reading. I glance at the spine and he is reading Stephen King. Interesting. He doesn’t strike me as the reading type.

“Like a kitten.” If he wants to play games. I’ll play.

Walking over to his large desk I take a seat on the edge and prop my foot on the arm of his chair fully aware I’m not wearing panties. Let’s see if he notices me now. My bare bottom is hanging over the edge and I can see he is using restraint not to look. His jaw is clenched, his mouth set in a hard line. I watch him struggling; I am smiling on the inside. So, he does see me. He chews on the inside of his mouth, I can see his muscles flex as he bites down hard on his inner jaw, choosing his words carefully.

“Hungry, I can cook you something,” I offer smiling broadly, leaning back on my elbows.

He shuts his book and lays it next to me. “Already ate,” he answers with no emotion. He is trying to brush me off.

Not happening.

“Tristian,” I purr out his name. “Have you seen my panties, a draft keeps breezing up my skirt.” I gather the hem in my fist, my hand resting on my smooth tan thigh, daring to flash him. This behavior is so unlike me, but Tristian makes me this way. He makes me feel bold, daring—ALIVE.

He knocks my foot from his chair, like a pest. He sits up and grabs my wrist, getting so close to my face. I could lick the side of his face. I wonder if his skin tastes of ink.

“Personal comforts are a privilege. You have to earn them, princess.”

“So, my phone?”

“I have it.” He brushes his thumb along my thigh, stroking. “Prove yourself a worthy pet, and I will reward you,” he tells me as his thumb grows dangerously close to my intimate zone.

A man has never had his hands on me in this manner before. My breathing hitches, becoming erratic, enjoying the way his touch feels.

“Be a good pet and I will be a good master.” His touch disappears but I can still feel his warmth tracing over my skin.

I guess I should have known a man like him thrives on control. This is just a game to him. All of it.

“I’m not a pet Tristian, I am a person. I expect to be treated like one.”

He grabs my hair, leaning into my personal space. “You belong to me Isa. I own you. If you expect anything more from me, you will find yourself sadly mistaken.”

He pulls me from his desk by my hair and drags me down the hallway roughly, cursing incoherently under his breath.