Forced to Wed: A Billionaire's Demand

Chapter 6

Sarah

"I am going to grab a quick shower. And when I come back, I expect you to be ready," he says gruffly and walks away.

I watch as Vincent leaves the room, his presence lingering in the air like a poisonous cloud. The moment he's gone, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

I know I shouldn't feel relieved in any shape or form since he will come back and demand to do the nasty with me. I have nowhere to run from here.

I glance at the clock on the nightstand and realize that time is ticking away. I hear the shower go off and an unwanted thought crosses my mind.

I wonder how he looks naked and wet...

Seriously, Sarah? Why would you think about that? I scold myself, shaking off my inappropriate curiosity. It's a defense mechanism, I tell myself, a way to distract from the harsh reality of the situation. That man is going to come back and destroy my virginity and take away my dignity so I shouldn't be lusting over him.

I quickly busied myself with straightening the already neat bedspread, avoiding the unsettling thoughts that threatened to invade my mind. The internal struggle between maintaining a facade of indifference and the unsettling curiosity about the man I'm supposedly married to adds to the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

I hear the bathroom door open, and panic rises in my chest. And then there he is, standing in front of me in all his glory, wearing nothing but a towel.

My eyes widen involuntarily, and I force myself to look away, focusing on the bedspread with newfound intensity. The room seems to shrink, and the air thickens with tension as I try to suppress the embarrassment and discomfort that threatens to consume me.

"Why aren't you naked?" he growls.

I feel a chill run down my spine at his demanding tone, but I refuse to meet his gaze. "I... I thought I would get undressed in the bathroom," I stammer, my voice barely audible.

Vincent's icy stare intensifies. "We don't have time for games, Sarah. Get undressed. Now."

"But shouldn't I shower too? I've been in this dress all day," I say, desperate to stall.

Vincent's eyes narrow, and I can tell his patience is wearing thin. "You will shower after we are finished. I prefer you a bit dirty anyway," he says with a sly grin.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. The room feels suffocating, the walls closing in on me as I struggle to comprehend the situation I find myself in. How did it come to this? How did I end up in the clutches of a man who revels in control and dominance?

Reluctantly, I reach back to unlace the dress, my trembling fingers fumbling with the ribbon. I can sense Vincent's gaze lingering on me, devouring every vulnerable moment.

"I...It's hard to unlace this thing," I stammer.

He approaches me slowly like a predator stalking his prey. When he stands before me, his eyes gleaming with hunger and desire, I can't help but feel a strange mix of fear and anticipation coil inside me.

"Let me help," he says huskily.

Vincent reaches out and gently takes hold of the ribbon, his touch making me tremble. He effortlessly unties the lace, his fingers brushing against my back in an intimate caress. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, engulfing me in its intensity.

As the dress slips off my shoulders and pools around my feet, I stand before him, completely exposed, wearing nothing but my bra and panties.

Vincent's eyes roam over my half-naked form, taking in every curve and contour as if committing it to memory. His gaze is both possessive and hungry, stirring a mix of fear and arousal in me. Despite the circumstances that brought us here, I can't deny the physical attraction between us.

I instinctively take a step back, finding myself pressed against the edge of the bed. The soft fabric beneath me feels cool against my heated skin as I desperately think of my escape from this chaotic situation.

"Lie down," he orders, and I obey.

I lay back on the bed, my body tense with anticipation and fear. Vincent stands by me and drops his towel, and a soft gasp escapes my lips.

Why, god...why!? Why does he have to be built like a Greek god and also have to have a big, fat, coc-

"Sarah!" he snarls and I tear my gaze away from his manhood.

I swallow hard. "Yeah?"

Vincent leans down, his voice dripping with both warning and desire. "Stop staring at my c**k and look at me," he commands, his eyes burning into mine.

"I can't help it. That thing is terrifying," I reply. "Are you really planning on putting it inside me?"

He gives me an intense stare, and for a moment, I feel like he will get angry at me. But to my utter shock, he bursts out laughing.

Vincent's laughter fills the room, the sound echoing off the walls and reverberating through my chest. I can't help but stare at him in awe. Why does this asshole have such a beautiful laugh? It's not fair.

Vincent takes a step back from the bed and runs a hand through his tousled hair. "You've got quite the mouth on you."

"Tha...nk you?" I mumble.

"Stop trying to waste time. Playtime is over," he says gruffly and looms over me.

I gulp. "Please be gentle," I whisper.

Vincent's smile slowly subsides, leaving a trace of amusement on his lips. He leans down, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, "Gentle isn't in my nature, Sarah."

His words make me tremble. He is going to hurt me, I can feel it.

As he towers over me, his presence overwhelming, I catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. It's as if he too is wrestling with conflicting emotions. Vincent's fingers trace invisible patterns along my thigh, making me flinch.

His thumb grazes over my lower lip. He leans in closer, his lips just inches away from mine.

"You can hate me all you want," he whispers against my mouth. "But soon, I will have you crave my touch."

"I don't think-" Before I can finish my sentence, his lips crash against mine in a searing kiss that consumes every rational thought in my mind.

He grips my hair with his left hand, pulling my head back as he passionately kisses me. Meanwhile, his right hand finds its way between my legs.

"Mmm," I moan into his mouth as I feel his hand slip inside my underwear. My pure white lacy panties, the color of innocence.

Too bad this man is about to destroy any innocence I have left.

Warm tears fall down my cheeks. He stops kissing me as it rolls down and reaches him. He pauses, noticing the tear, and quickly leans back to lick it off his lips.

"Crying again? How pathetic," he grunts.

I sniffle. "Easy for you to mock me when you get to do the hurting."

Vincent's expression softens slightly, and he releases his grip on my hair. He stares at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine before he speaks again.

"Don't tell me this is your first time," he says in a hoarse voice.

"What gives you the idea?" I bite back with sarcasm.

"I don't believe it. The respectable Thomas Whitemore sold his virgin daughter for money," he laughs.

This time, I don't find his laugh beautiful. "Like you are a saint? You are just as bad as my father, if not worse," I snarl.

His eyes are dark as he stares down at me again. "Oh, trust me, little one. I am way, way worse."

I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what's to come. Vincent's words echo in my mind, taunting me with their truth.

Vincent's hand moves away from my thigh and trails up my side, giving me goosebumps. My heart pounds in my chest as his fingers inch closer to my nether region.

He yanks down my panties without warning and I gasp.

This is it, I am about to lose my virginity to this cruel man.