HIS MINI BEAR
Terribly, silently angry.
The realization sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.
Sliding his zipper down, the sound echoed around us, amplified by the oppressive silence.
My hands stopped, hovering uncertainly.
My fingers clenched and unclenched, a nervous tic that betrayed my inner turmoil.
When I looked up, his face was a mask.
All the usual amusement, the cruelty, the possessive hunger – gone.
He was staring at me without any emotion, his eyes flat and cold.
It was worse than anger; it was a chilling detachment
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