She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this frustrated. Even the bath hadn’t helped, and she’d even used six cans of milk instead of four.

Of course, maybe milk wasn’t what she needed to use. Perhaps purity wasn’t the remedy she needed to seek.

She should know by now that purity couldn’t satisfy the hunger.

She finished closing her garment bag and tugged on the zipper. When it didn’t immediately yield to her pull, she gave it a violent jerk then shrieked at it. “Dammit!”

“Dammit…” She muttered the word again, her angry voice held low under her breath. “That fat bastard just had to ruin it…”

It was entirely his fault. She would be fine right now if it wasn’t for him.

She couldn’t believe it. The sensory deprivation, smothering, the razor; shit, even the gun didn’t make him afraid. And, he had known it was the real thing, it was his own goddamned gun! He just kept getting more excited no matter what she did to him. No matter what she threatened, there was no fear. Even after she would carry out a torture and follow it with psychological intimidation, implying that worse was to come, he would just get that much more aroused.

What a complete pervert he was! He was even so wrapped up in the game that he didn’t need manual stimulation. He just got off right there on the bathroom floor.

Damn the premature fucker.

She hadn’t been ready. Not yet.

None of them were ready. Especially her.

She hadn’t even had a chance to open her attache, much less do the ritual.

Damn him!

And, if that wasn’t enough, when he had blown his load, it got all over one of her shoes. Good damn thing he was carrying a healthy wad of cash. Her fees didn’t include having a three hundred dollar pair of suede pumps ruined by the likes of him.

But, even though he had the cash, it still made her angry.