In the entirety of my existence, no one has ever dared speak to me the way Sofia Blake did. And is still doing in fact.
She was unlike anyone I've ever come in contact with and there was something about her… something that was both intriguing and greatly vexing.
And of the two, the latter held more grip on my mind. With each word she said, every second she stood before me, my hate for her guts - built.
The most vexing thing about it was that I'm yet to humiliate her. All I've managed to do was vex her, mildly I might add.
I need to see that glint of pride in her eyes glaze with tears. For those proud lips to beg. For that imposing presence of hers she somehow manages to pull off even with such petite build, to be reduced to her knees. I want that chip she seemed to have on her shoulders to sag in defeat. I don't just want her to beg, I need her to grovel. To realize that I, Richard Wellington, wasn't a man to mess with.
