But her yelling worked, and Clara could hear the footstep stop drawing near her.
Swallowing nervously, Clara asked in fear, "Who, who are you, really, why do you do this to me?"
Without answering her question, the man standing in front of her was looking at Clara, who's lying on the floor. He walked to her after a lengthy stare.
Hearing the footsteps again, Clara lost her cool, hauling herself back, "Stop coming to me! What the hell do you want from me? Ah…"
Clara could clearly feel the man's weak breath on her neck as he bent over, lifted her up and placed her on the sofa.
Was the man going to do something bad to her? As the thought of that, Clara felt despair surging inside her. No! No way!
Clara retreated into the corner of the sofa, brandishing her tied hands before her, where the man didn't make another move.
She could feel that he was right before her, but somehow, he stopped taking any move, which startled her even more.
At the moment, she felt like a caged rabbit completely at the mercy of the man.
Under the threat of fear, she stopped talking. Biting her bottom lip, she confronted the man with silence.
But after a while, she felt a warmth on her cheek. He was touching her face!
The man's hand stroked her cheek like a feather, lovingly clipping her thin chin between his thumb and index finger, while his dark eyes gazing at her tender pillow lips below the black blindfold.
People were born to fear the unknown. Clara almost embedded herself into the sofa, but still couldn't avoid the man's hand.
"Who the hell are you? It's Laura or Sean who asked you to do this?" Clara asked with uncertainty, because she couldn't think of anyone else she might have offended.
The stroking hand paused, and Clara could clearly feel the stiffness of his fingers, but the man still didn't answer her.
Clara's voice sounded forlorn and odd in the room. With a curious surge of anxiety and unease welling up inside her, she suddenly swung her head hard, shaking the man's hand off her face.
With courage coming from nowhere, Clara suddenly leaned forward and bumped away the man, who had been getting closer to her. "Get off. Don't touch me!"
Her skin felt the man's shirt, and she found that the texture felt surprisingly good, and based on her knowledge, it should have been expensive and custom-made.
He couldn't have been dressed in a clothe as fine if he had been sent by Laura or Sean, but then who was he?
While she was trying to figure out his identity, Clara was suddenly pushed down on the sofa. Her heart was pounding wildly as she felt the commanding presence of the man.
She could almost see what was coming. Feeling terrified, she struggled and shouted, "Let go of me! You asshole, get..."
The man's kiss was no longer as aggressive and it lightly rested on her cheek and the corners of her mouth, as if soothing an injured little animal.
His lips came down, and when they kissed her chin, the man gently bit the tip of the chin before returning to her lips.
Clara was frozen by the natural move. Could it be him? Once the idea floated up in her head, it kept lingering.
Clara closely felt the man on her, including his smell, his breath and some familiar little acts during the kiss...
The more she felt him the more terrified she became. And she was almost certain that the idea was right.
How ridiculous! Clara felt all her organs were burning inside her in the flames of anger. How could he have done this to her?! It's way across the line!
All the fear had disappeared. Clara gave his lips a hard bite, and there soon came a smell of blood between the lips and the teeth.
"Ow!" The man was shocked by the bite and, feeling hurt, drew back from her lips, with a bit anger in his look at her.
When had she learned that!? She had never bit him before.
With the man letting go of her mouth, Clara was finally able to speak. She said fiercely, "What the hell are you doing, Horace! Let go of me, now!"
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