soon—after the sun sets, at the very latest, I think wryly.
You’re going crazy, Sabina. A sudden hope that I’m dreaming overwhelms me and I give my forearm a savage pinch.
Nope. Still in his kitchen. Still no escape.
Closing my eyes, I tap my fingertips against my forehead and force myself to think. I don’t have my car, that’s true, but there are two in his garage. I could take one of them and drive myself back to Club Toxic. Technically, it wouldn’t be stealing—he works there, and I could drop off or mail the keys back to him later. Provided I can find them.
And that the garage door isn’t locked.
Why are you in such a hurry to get away? a little voice asks me. He hasn’t hurt you—at least, not beyond what you consented to. My clit roars back to life at the thought of his hands on my body, his low, dominant tone in my ear, his tongue driving me to the absolute brink…
If I manage to somehow borrow one of his cars without his consent and get home, one thing is certain: I will never, ever feel any of that again. Maximus would be beyond pissed.
And while I’m perfectly content being single, I can’t get over the way my body reacts to him. It’s like a drug high, and I want more. A lot more. I want to know how he kisses, how his cock tastes; I want more of that exquisite torture he can dole out so effortlessly.
Am I really ready to give up the best sex of my life just because I woke up without him, and now have some ridiculous notion that he’s not human?
My fingertips slide to the side of my neck and I wince as I encounter the bite mark. It’s not just a notion, though. I have tangible, visible proof. And while I agreed to play with him and even have sex with him, I do not recall a discussion about being his dinner.
The bark of laughter which escapes my lips is on the verge of hysterical, and I suddenly feel woozy. I just need to sit down for a moment. Get my bearings. Not make any hasty decisions.
Heading to the den we were in earlier, I allow my weak knees to give way and sink into the plush depths of the sofa. The view in here is just as spectacular as in the bedroom, but my eyelids feel so heavy.
God, I’m tired.
I’ll just doze for a few minutes, then I’ll pull myself together and come up with a plan. Maybe I’m even still in bed and this is just a dream after all…
14
Maximus
My first thought upon waking is Sabina. Gods, I hope she’s all right. I hope she only just woke up and is now blinking groggily, the memories of this morning slowly coming back to her. I wonder if she’s still wet, and my cock twitches at the thought. Perhaps she’s still asleep, I think as I leave my basement and bound up the stairs, taking them two at a time in my haste to reach her. I could wake her by sliding my dick deep inside—
I blink, my brain unwilling to acknowledge what I’m seeing. The drapes have been yanked back and the bed is empty. The glass on the nightstand is empty. The whole fucking room is empty.
“Sabina? Pet?” I force myself to sound casual as I glance inside the ensuite and see no trace of her. “Where are you?”
She can’t be far, I tell myself. We’re miles away from anywhere. She doesn’t have a car. She wouldn’t know my address, so calling an Uber or a cab would be out, surely?
I begin to search methodically, wondering why I have to have such a big damn house. Once I’ve ascertained she’s not anywhere on the second floor, I go down to the first, rubbing my head compulsively as I check the kitchen, the lounge…
She’s curled up on the sofa, wearing her rumpled dress from last night, her feet still bare. I flick on a nearby lamp and she gives a jerk, snapping awake just as I realize what must have happened. She woke up thirsty, somehow managed to find the release loops on the knots I used, drank the rest of the water, and made it this far before passing out again.
“Sabina,” I say softly.
She spots me then, and the expression of absolute anguish, fear and betrayal on her face turns my blood to ice. “Maximus,” she says coldly.