The way the pale moonlight illuminated her skin made me shiver. She was dating my best friend, this was wrong.
The dark lacy underwear covered just enough to give my imagination something to do. She moved with fluid grace and when I looked at her eyes, the steadiness of their steel blue gaze was both chilling and enthralling.
I want her.
She moved around the room, turning down the bedsheets and lighting candles. It was all I could do not to jump at her and pin her to the bed. She caught my intense gaze and waggled a finger at me, grinning mischievously.
Please don’t make me wait.
She went to the door, looking over her shoulder with fake surprise as she opened it.
No, don’t go!
I began to call out, but the cotton handkerchief gagged me and took away my words. I strained at the bindings on my wrists behind the chairback I was seated in.
She returned, carrying a tray with a silver domed dish on it. Placing it on my lap, she opened it, revealing the severed head of my best friend.
(This is pretty dark of me, but when I asked some friends what to write, they said dark and sexy. I just had too many ideas for 'beg'.)
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