Midnight Mischief by Andrews Lyla

Author:Andrews, Lyla
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-14T00:00:00+00:00

WE HEAD DEEPER into the woods, my heart racing the entire time as I silently wonder why he’s bringing me further out here. But Donovan seems to be determined to get somewhere, so I don’t question him. He suddenly stops and sets me down, apparently satisfied with this location.

I lunge away, ready to run again, but he’s already one step ahead of me. I take five long strides before his hand wraps around my bicep and jerks me back to him. I fight against his restraint, pushing and pulling in a desperate attempt to get away, but he easily overpowers me. I reluctantly give up.

“That was a bad idea,” he warns. “A very bad idea.”

I know from the tone of his voice that he’s going to punish me to teach me a lesson. The idea is equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“Now are you going to be a good girl and listen to me?” He asks.

I nod my head.

“Close your eyes and stay there,” he commands as he drags me back to where we were initially.

I do as he says and listen closely as he moves. I think he’s going to touch me, but he doesn’t. His footsteps move behind me, and I can’t quite make out the sounds of what he’s doing back there, though I can make out movement. Every second is agony as I wait.

Seconds later, his voice is in my ear. “Keep them closed,” he whispers as he slips his flannel off my arms. I allow him to take it, though goosebumps cover my exposed skin immediately from the chill of the air. His fingers brush against my bare shoulders, tracing the line of my collarbone and pushing the thin dress straps to the side. I lift my arms up through them and let them fall to my sides. The top of the dress is tight enough that it stays up without the straps.

To my surprise, Donovan slips the flannel back onto my arms, and I confusedly comply. I figured he would be undressing me more rather than putting clothes back on, though I can’t say I’m not grateful to have my arms covered again.

Gently, Donovan pulls me back a couple of steps so the back of my head is against his chest. Despite my desire to look back at him, I keep my eyes closed. “Arms up,” he orders. Maybe he is going to pull my dress off, then.

He doesn’t touch my clothes, though. He pulls my arms up above my head as high as they’ll go, forcing me to stand straight up, and I feel something being secured around my wrists. Oh. He yanks the rope—or whatever it is—to check that it’s secure, and I feel the warmth of his body leave me as he steps away.

His footsteps indicate him moving in front of me. “Go ahead and open up.”

I open my eyes to see him a few feet in front of me, surveying me with my arms secured above my head. I pull against the restraints, testing them, but they don’t budge.

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