Twisted Perception (Flawed #2) by T.l Smith Page A

situation. She stalks over to him, lifts her leg high up on his shoulder and talks in low whispers. He starts shaking his head, trying to will her off him. She smacks him across the face and his temper flares. She sees it and smacks him again, her leg dropping from his shoulder. I stand and remove my long sleeved shirt leaving me in heels, shorts, and a tank top and walk from the seat. Mika stops me with a hand to my arm.
    “Will I need to leave? Will I be able to see straight after this? After watching you?” He looks at me closely.
    “You’re the boss,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and pulling free from his grip. I unlock the door and step into the room, locking the door again behind me. Gabrielle takes a step back when I enter, and grimaces. Her man looks up at me with wide eyes, then drops his gaze to the ground.
    “Gabby,” I say, slowly shaking my head. I shorten her name—never, ever, give full names to the Thrall. I’m holding a screwdriver, the one I picked up in the main room, the one I was planning to use on Mika.
    “Would you come closer?” I say sensuality oozing from my voice. She listens and so does the Thrall. His head shoots up, I don’t look at him as she steps closer and closer to me. I run my hand along her collarbone, feathering over her tits, watching as her nipples react and pucker up under the thin piece of material that covers them. “Leave,” I tell her, watching as her breathing grows heavy just as my hand reached her waist. “Watch from the room,” I demand, listening to her walk away. I take a few steps closer to the man and sit on the floor inches from his legs.
    He looks at me and cocks his head. “Get out, bitch,” he hisses. Tough one, I like them, they’re more enjoyable to break.
    I slide my heels along the floor, spreading my legs wider. His eyes drop and follow. I lean back not watching him, but I know he’s watching me. Lifting my leg in the air, I run my hand down it and come to my pussy. Stopping, I hitch a finger under my waistband and slide my shorts off. They stop on my other foot hooked at the heel. My shirt is next to go. As my back arches upward, I fling it off and throw it behind me.
    “Tell me, should I touch myself here?” I ask, pulling a breast free and rubbing the nipple between my fingers. “Or here?” Sounding more turned on as my hands come to a stop at my pussy.
    “There,” he says, breathing heavily. I remove my hands and stand. He watches and realizes what he’d said. I made him listen to me, whether he realized it or not.
    “You fucking bitch!” he roars at me. His hard on is visible through his pants. I reach for the scissors and lean forward, cutting his pants away from his body. He moves and tries to kick me off. I snap the scissors at his skin and blood is drawn.
    “Do that again and I will aim somewhere else, somewhere you won’t like,” I say looking up at him. “Got me?” I watch as he nods his head.
    “I think you need to learn respect. You may call me Master. Nothing else. Every time you disobey, I will draw blood.” He doesn’t say a word, just watches me. His dick springs free and bounces off his belly. He stares at me like he knows it’s my fault it’s that way.
    “Who am I?” I ask him. He takes a little while to answer, obviously thinking about what to say.
    “Bitch,” he says, determination in his voice. I was planning to use the screwdriver, but the scissors seem a bit more fun now. I move closer to him, reaching up for his hands. Standing on my toes, I cut the side of his palm and he screams and swears.
    “Who am I?” I ask again, stepping back.
    “Slut,” he replies with even more determination. I cut him again on the side of his foot. Screams fill the room.
    “Who am I?”
    “Manipulator,” he spits at me now.
    That earns him two cuts, one on each of his kneecaps.
    “Who am I?”
    “Master,” he whispers, deflated. His head drops to his chest and he is silent. I nod and drop the scissors by the