I was covered in sweat, and the heat coursing its way through my body made it apparent how badly I wanted him to touch me. I could feel my nipples harden and my skin tingle as he stared at me, and he knew what I felt and what he was doing to me. I didn’t want any part of it, but my body’s reaction to his touch proved that he always had power over me. Now more than ever before.
I would never get over this, I would never be normal again, and I would never trust my instincts again after the way I was feeling from one simple drop of water, to one slow caress across my face. I craved any sort of human connection—no, I craved humanity amidst his depravity.
His grip tightened around my wrist, massaging it, trying to relieve my discomfort. I turned my head to the side, away from him. Not wanting him to see the effect he had over me.
“You can’t hide from me, pet.”
His forefinger and thumb rubbed at the most sensitive part of where the bindings were cutting, and I moaned. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was smiling. He was enjoying what he was doing to me, and I hated him for it.
“Thank you,” I said without him demanding it.
I knew he was fighting some internal battle with himself, his demons, and I was suddenly one of them. He repeated the same process on my other wrist and ankles before he fed me warm oatmeal. Once I was done eating, there was an eeriness in the room. It was thick and heavy.
I smiled, despite myself.
However, it was quickly replaced when he spewed, “I’ll untie you after I make sure you’re still a virgin.”
I stopped smiling, and before I could make a peep, his fingers started rubbing my clit with precise determination.
I sucked in a breath. This was the first time he was touching me like this since the first day I’d arrived. Faster and faster, his skilled fingers had my body shaking.
“Ahhh…” I panted, feeling the ecstasy he was delivering.
His other hand found the inside of my mouth, pushing his fingers as far as they would go down my throat, causing me to gag at the intrusion. He did it a few times, and each time the gagging became louder and heavier. He pushed them in one last time and pulled them out with a trail of my spit following behind, placing it all over my pussy.
My eyes watered, and I hacked and coughed, but that didn’t stop my body from responding to his touch. The more pressure he applied to my clit, the closer I got to release. I felt his hard cock on my leg through his slacks.
“You want to come?”
“Yes…” I shamelessly begged.
He slapped my pussy a few more times, and that was all it took for me to shake with a deep, steady release. My come dripped down my inner thighs and all over his fingers, and he didn’t stop until every last drop was out of me. My head swirled with aftershocks, and that was when he slid his fingers inside of me. It was the first time a man had ever done so, and I squirmed at the discomfort. It hurt a lot, and it was only his fingers that were inside of me.
“And right there, pet …” he rasped in a husky, addicting tone. “You feel that? It’s your virginity. Now the real question is, should I claim it with my fingers or with my cock instead?”
“Please,” I pleaded, for I didn’t know what.
I was embarrassed, ashamed, afraid, and I still wanted him, needed his touch.
He growled from deep within his chest.
It was over before it even began. He removed his fingers and licked them clean. Backing away, he walked toward the door.
“Aren’t you going to untie me?”
“When you’re my good girl, you get to sleep in my arms; until then, you get nothing but darkness while you’re bound to the bed.”
He turned off the light, and once I heard the door being locked, I welcomed the sleep with open arms, allowing myself to slip back into dreams of my old life where I wasn’t being held captive.
My dreams turned into nightmares, and somewhere along the night, I was screaming in terror. Only to be told, “Shhh… shhh… shhh…”
I passed out again, only this time I wasn’t tied up.
No more dreams.
No more nightmares.
I was at peace.
Laying there, wrapped in my villain’s arms.
CHAPTER TEN
Donovan
“Fuck!”
I kicked the door, again and again, my foot banging against the metal until I felt nothing. When I was feeling everything. She was sleeping in my arms. It was too soon, but I couldn’t fucking help myself. She was hysterical, having a nightmare more than likely about me. I wanted her fear, yet it needed to be on my terms. Not hers. I watched Juliet from the monitor in my office for as long as I could bear it.
“You done yet?” a familiar voice questioned down the corridor.
I didn’t turn around.
I didn’t have to.
“Does it look like I’m done?” I kicked it again.
I sent the guards to go play fetch while I tended to my property.
That’s all she is, Donovan. You’re just taking care of what’s yours—nothing more, nothing less.
“I can smell her fear.”
“What?” I spun around. “You a werewolf now, Troy?”
“I don’t like blood as much as you do. You sure you still want this one? I could take her off your hands … break her for you, really challenge her to become the best version of herself. You know how it goes, kill all hope, burn down everything, so she becomes reliant on you. It’s like having a gorgeous slave who would kill just for your approval.”
I clenched my fists and finally gave him my full attention. Troy was my father’s best friend, and in some form, he was a father figure to me as well—taking me under his wing after I had killed my father. He was one of the only people who understood me, understood what we did, what we provided, and was the only one capable of seeing past every one of my cold, calculated looks to the man inside of me.
And sometimes, I hated him for it.
Troy wasn’t intimidated or threatened by my presence and made sure to put me in my place every chance he’d get. It didn’t happen often. He was getting older and didn’t have the power he once had.
Especially, over me.
“What do you really want?” I changed the subject, walking into another room that stored all my liquor. I poured a dram of whiskey into my favorite glass. “You never visit when I’m working.”
“I missed you,” he chuckled, sitting in his usual spot. The black leather chair was his favorite.
Our habits kept us focused, and each of us were religiously tied to everything we did when breaking someone new, down to the very clothes we wore and people we talked to.
This lifestyle wasn’t simple. It was a calculated web of desire, deceit, lust, training, approval, and money.
And I fucking loved it.
Most days.
He wore a black suit with his black shirt; the first two buttons were undone, revealing the matching tattoo we both got when we started our company. Something I couldn’t think about now, not with his arrogant blue eyes practically twinkling with amusement and not with his dark blond hair pulled away from his face like he’d constantly been running his hands through it. Plotting, thinking, planning. Even in his sixties, he was striking. According to almost every woman he had trained.