"No wonder he likes you so much," the blonde man murmured, his voice thick with a repulsive, intoxicated fascination. "Your skin is so flawless... so soft. It looks like poured milk. I love the feeling of running my fingers over it."
As he spoke, his heavy, calloused hand slowly trailed up from her bare ankle, gliding over the delicate skin of her leg, creeping higher to her thigh, and settling over her stomach. He was half-naked, his shirt discarded somewhere on the floor, leaving only his dark trousers on.
Jillyanna thrashed desperately, straining her delicate wrists against the tight leather knots bound securely to the bedposts, but her efforts were completely fruitless. The rough leather cut into her skin, and tears of sheer panic and helplessness pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision into a smeared haze.
