I am finally finished with the rough draft of Devin and Kara’s story. The working title of their journey is Protected. Since I’ve just started first round of edits, I figured for this week, I’d show a little something from the beginning. Devin has just broken in, woken her up, and is getting her ready to leave her apartment- with him. She’s a tad reluctant.
“And there went the manners.” He let out a sigh again. She ignored the comment. She heard the laptop being placed on the table, heard him shuffle around with his cell, but still found herself surprised when he stepped over the table and grabbed her up by her arms. “It looks like we have a little trip to take.” He dragged her away from the couch, ignoring her squirming as though she were just some errant bug that buzzed around him.
She realized where he was taking her, and her fight intensified. Her foot finally connected with his knee and he stumbled in his step. When he turned to look down at her, it was with a heated gaze that should have sent her shivering in fear, but it didn’t.
With almost no effort, he spun her around and shoved her face first into the wall. Her teeth dug into her cheek, the taste of copper dripped over her tongue. A large hand held her firmly as the other hand slapped her ass four times. Hard, rapid slaps in the same spot on her left ass cheek, both surprising her and sending a burn through her body.
Spinning her back around to face him he put his face in hers, leaving no room between their noses. “You do something like that again, and you’ll get more than that. Got me?”
“You spanked me,” she said with more surprise than hurt.
“That was a warning. Keep up this fighting me and you’ll see what a real spanking is.” The warning came out in a low growl that suggested she probably didn’t want to find out what he considered a real spanking to be. He finished dragging her into her bedroom and flung her on the bed. She bounced on the mattress and watched him, this stranger, go through her drawers until he found a pair of jeans. “Put these on.” He tossed them at her then went in search of a shirt.
“You’ve been here before.” She slid from the bed as she made that observation. He moved around the room as though he’d been there too many times before. He knew which drawer she kept her bras in.
“I do my homework.” He tossed a bra at her then a t-shirt.
“This shirt doesn’t fit.” She held it out to him. The conversation felt insane. The whole fucking situation was insane. The man had broken into her apartment, threatened to hurt her, and obviously wasn’t done with her if he was picking out clothes for her. Yet, there she stood, holding out a shirt and asking for one that fit better. Her insides shook, and she wanted to ball up and cry, but she wouldn’t. No fucking way she would show him how much his presence scared her. He wouldn’t get that power. To make her feel something, to make her behave any other way than she chose.
This is a blog hop, so make sure you check out the links and go forth and read, read, read. There are excellent authors waiting to share their WIPs with you!
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