Pennies (Dollar #1)(53)

The way he watched me frothed my stomach.

I wasn’t beautiful like him.

But for some reason, he saw something in me that I’d lost so long ago.

Leaning forward, he snatched the dress from my hands and threw it on the floor. “Fuck, it’s worse than I thought. So much bloody worse.”

Worse?

Any confidence he’d granted ripped into tear-filled bubbles.

Worse!?

How dare he say such a thing!

With nothing to hide myself with, I wrapped my arms around my body, doing my best to shield my nakedness that he called the worst he’d ever seen.

Anger swatted at my dismay. This wasn’t what I chose. I didn’t want to be this skinny and broken. How dare he destroy me so callously?

I almost wanted Master A to appear. At least, no matter how ugly and beaten I was, he always wanted me.

Mr. Prest shifted, his large hands cupping the bulge between his legs. “I’d planned on finding pleasure from you tonight.” He wasn’t subtle as his cupping turned to grasping—the outline of his cock a thick rod in his trousers. “I’d planned on f*cking you because, despite your awful fashion sense and wild hair, you turned me on.”

Turned me on.

Not turn me on.

I should be grateful his attraction was past tense. It meant whatever these mad few minutes had been, it was over before Master A stormed in.

He glanced at what he stroked. “Does that scare you?”

That you wanted me?

No.

I’d been pretty, once upon a time, but it didn’t mean my dark brown hair and mossy eyes were what all boys found attractive. However, in this environment, I could safely say all men wanted me. Because all the men I came into contact with were heathenous hounds, not seeing me for me but for what I represented: the freedom to f*ck and hurt with no repercussions.

Until him, of course.

My head swam as confusion made me dizzy.

“Unfortunately, now I’ve seen what he tried to hide beneath those awful clothes.” His upper lip curled with revulsion. “And it f*cking changes everything.”

I couldn’t look up—couldn’t bear to stare at a man who hired me and then fired me the moment I stripped.

I was a slave.

I had nothing of my own.

My self-confidence was a battered, flimsy thing and he’d just taken the tiny scrap I had left and stomped all over it.

Sucking in a huge gust of air, Mr. Prest scrubbed his face. “Drop your arms, let me see.”

I obeyed immediately.

He wanted to terrorise himself further by looking upon my grotesqueness?

Be my guest.

A few seconds ticked past as his eyes roamed over me. Finally, he whispered, “You’re more black than white and more blue than healthy pink, but you’re not shy about revealing it.”

Shy?

It wasn’t about shyness.

It was about knowing my place and doing what I was told.

I did what you requested!

This man had no notion of the rules and laws I lived in. He didn’t have experience dealing with bought creatures.

That soothed my rage a little, knowing I might be the worse he’d ever seen, but he wasn’t the worst I’d ever encountered.

“What happened to you?” His voice dropped to arctic levels.

My nipples stiffened at the chill while his scorching eyes heated me.

Did he expect me to tell him when the answers were all around him?

Stupid man.

“Silence won’t save you from me, Pimlico.” Mr. Prest pushed off his knees, reclining on the bed again. His head rested against the headboard, his motions smooth and unhurried. Never taking his attention off me, he straightened his legs and with nimble fingers unbuckled his trousers.

I swallowed hard.

The soft clink of the metal buckle sounded loud as he tossed the ends of his belt to opposite sides and popped the button before the harsh rasp of a zipper being undone filled the room. “You think I won’t touch you just because I’ve seen your injuries?”

My heart took control, bellowing my lungs like a blacksmith forging steel.

“You think I’m a nice guy who will treat you with more respect than the men who marked you?” He pulled the waistband of black boxer-briefs from his tattooed stomach, inserting his right hand into their depths. His jaw clenched as his hips arched a little, granting some slack for his fingers to wrap around himself.

The way his face etched with deep concentration and his teeth imprisoned his lip was the hottest thing I’d seen since I’d been murdered and sold.

“I’m not.” His tongue swiped where his teeth had bitten. “I’m not someone you can f*ck around. When I ask for something, I expect to get it. Immediately.”

A sudden wash of fear and rebellion crashed over me as his hand shifted in his trousers.

“You have a choice. Give me what I want or I’ll take what I want.” He smiled harshly, his eyes flicking around the room as if expecting company at any moment. “Your pick.”

I blinked.

I didn’t understand this new game. He’d already told me my bruises changed everything—that he no longer wanted me. He could’ve taken me the moment he’d stolen me, so why threaten me with sex when he would rather be in a different bed with a different girl?

My chin pressed against my sternum, doing my best to delete such puzzlement.