Hazel’s Point of View A gasp escaped my lips as his hand moved to my thigh, lifting my dress with a slow, deliberate touch. “Stop, please!” I screamed in my head, but no words left my mouth. My body betrayed me, responding to every touch—I didn’t want this. I don’t want to do this His mouth brushed my ear, teeth grazing gently. I bit my lower lip, forcing back the moan that threatened to escape. I shivered. “Please… let me go.” The words came out broken, and my voice was barely a whisper. He chuckled—cold, empty. It wasn’t amusement; it was a warning. A death sentence. My heart pounded. His hand slid to my breast and squeezed gently. My knees buckled. I bit down harder, swallowing the sound rising in my throat. As if he could hear my thoughts, he suddenly released me. For a second, I stood there, stunned. Then instinct took over—I scrambled to my feet, backing away, breath hitching. “Thank you—” I started, but then his voice cracked through the silence like a whip. “Stri
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