My Step Daddy’s Best Friend
"He touched you?"
"No! No, we just talked," I sobbed, my legs shaking so badly I could barely stand as he let go of my hair.
Alexander didn't answer. He walked over to his desk and picked up a heavy, custom silver embosser used for sealing corporate documents. He walked back to me, his face a mask of predatory, unyielding ownership. He pushed me back onto the table, flipping me onto my stomach.
He pressed the cold, metal edge of the corporate seal firmly against the high skin of my thigh, right beneath my hip, pressing down until the heavy metal bruised the flesh, leaving a deep, unmistakable indentation that would turn black and blue by morning.
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