Spicy Hot
The scent of sandalwood and leather is stronger now, more enveloping.
The door closes. The sound of the lock sliding into place is terrifying. Final.
He turns toward me. His gaze travels slowly over my body, from my sweater down to my boots, then returns to my eyes.
“Show me.”
Two words. An order. I know immediately what he wants to see.
My fingers are numb, clumsy. I unfasten my jeans and let them slide down my hips until they fall at my ankles. I remain there, in a black pair of panties and my sweater, exposing the mark on my pale hip.