“Please what, pet?”
I didn’t know what to say.
What to think.
My mind acted on its own, and I fought against his skilled fingers.
“No!” I screamed this time, louder than before.
He chuckled against my back, working my clit, knowing exactly how to touch my pussy.
“No!”
The bastard didn’t let up, and my defiance only made him work harder. Simply proving that there was nothing he couldn’t just steal from me if he wanted to.
Faster and harder, he manipulated me in this sick game of authority that I wanted to escape, but I was trapped in this room.
In his arms.
In his hands.
I tried to manage my emotions that were being solely governed by his voice, by his touch, by his erection that was still pressing into my ass.
“You’re going to come for me, Juliet. And then you’re going to thank me.”
His words were fueled by my fire.
My restraint to prove him wrong.
But it was impossible.
He was too skilled.
Too precise.
Easily playing me like I played the piano.
Holding me tighter, firmer, never wanting me to feel anything other than what he desired. He roughly and determinedly moved his fingers, making me groan out in frustration and surrender. He was going to make me do it just to show me that he could.
My legs trembled.
My core locked up.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head.
I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Resist it.
I saw stars as I came apart from the most intense orgasm I had ever felt.
“Good girl, Juliet,” he praised me as much as he punished, and I knew it was just the beginning.
I laid there against him, immobile, lax, complacent.
“Now, hold still.”
My body shuddered as he continued to mark me, cutting the ties of my hands.
When he was done, he once again stood in front of me before crouching to my level. For the first time, I could see him, really take a good look at him. His hair was dark and slicked back, emphasizing his chiseled cheekbones and five o’clock shadow. His broad shoulders and muscular chest were a few of the things I noticed as my gaze found the cross tattooed on his neck. That captured my attention the most, considering he was holding me hostage with a religious sacrament forever embedded onto his skin.
Bringing my attention back to his lips, he slid his wet fingers into his mouth and groaned in satisfaction.
My cheeks burned.
I was confused—both embarrassed and aroused.
Torn.
Sedated.
Was this his plan?
When he realized I appreciated his ruggedly handsome appearance, he grinned. It must have been my curious gaze that I couldn’t hide from him. Not when he’d just stolen another part of me which he now owned as well.
With his stare narrowed in, he looked deep into my eyes and bit, “I won’t love you. Ever.” His jaw clenched. “Make no mistake, though, your days as Juliet Sinacore are finished. But your days as my pet have only just begun.” He nodded toward the piano. Then ordered, “Play for me, Juliet, but first, where’s my thank you for making you come?”
Instead of fighting for my emotions, my freedom, my hatred for him, I gave in to his request. “Thank you,” I breathed out before turning to the piano.
Seeking refuge in music and not his wicked games.
CHAPTER TWO
Donovan
She did well. Better than I thought she would. After all this time, I finally had her. After four years of waiting for her, she was now a twenty-two-year-old woman.
A Sinacore.
I wanted her.
I had always, always wanted her.
Her innocence.
Her beauty.
Her body.
I’d been counting down the days to have her here with me. Away from everyone—her family, her friends—no one would find her. I made sure of it.
Images of Juliet flashed through my mind.
Her soft hair.
Her intoxicating scent.
Her sweet, salty pussy.
The way she cried.
Moaned.
Begged.
Mine.
Control wasn’t given. Power wasn’t handed. It was taken, exactly how I had taken her. My body relaxed, thinking about her in all the ways I shouldn’t.
Slowly, I rose to my feet, adjusted my tie, and made my way out of my office. It was morning, the next day. Twenty-four hours since I had my first taste of her, and already I was craving more. Fully aware that nothing would ever be enough when it came to her.
It never was.
With each step, I felt more and more like myself. The grand hall of my mansion was empty, and its gold-plated ceiling seemed to glisten as I let myself in the room where Juliet would be waiting for me.
Two guards stood by the door.
“Open.”
The guard jerked the heavy metal door to the side, and I walked in, nodding for them to close the steel door me. The entire room was blanketed in white, matching her complexion, but it was perfectly decorated with all the things she loved, including her beloved piano. Or should I say mine? I remembered the first time I had watched her play, in complete and utter awe of what she could do with her hands.
Her talent.
Her passion.
It poured out of her like the blood on my hands.
She was sleeping, passed out on a bed made for a queen. I watched her for most of the night from the cameras that were set up in her room. Even after I left her alone, she played the piano. Barely touching the food and water I had delivered to her. Each piece she played was darker, sadder, more intense than the last. Every emotion she felt was let out through the keys of black and white cords. It was all color. She was bright and bold. Fucking glowing from the inside out. Making my cock twitch at the sight of her. Images of me grabbing her by her sinful hips and fucking her up against the wall skated through my mind. Not to mention making her deep throat my dick between those perfect, pouty lips.
I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and inhaled. She smelled like sunshine, rain, and life itself. Possessiveness washed over me as I pulled in every single emotion I had that was screaming at me to touch her more, to hug her.
Offer comfort when I had none to give.
Comfort was a lot like love—once you give it, there was no taking it back.
She would need it to survive, and then I’d fuck it out of her when it was convenient for me. I tried not to focus too much on the thought of her beneath me, blindfolded as I thrust into her.
The vision was too tempting.
I’d make her fall in love with me.
And in the end, if she didn’t…
She’d die.
Juliet
My eyes fluttered open, feeling him staring at me. He was sitting in a chair beside my bed.
Talk about fucking creepy.
As soon as my sleepy gaze connected with his, he ordered, “Strip,” in a rough, demanding tone.
I didn’t know what came over me; my father always said that my defiance would get the best of me one day.
Well, that day had come.
He simply stood, commanding respect and obedience. I didn’t back down, lifting my chin higher and glaring at him. In one fluid motion, he unhooked the cufflinks of his collared button-down shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Through my stupidity, I still didn’t cower. Instead, I sat up, tucking my knees under my body, and pretended like I wasn’t scared as if I was a child. Unbuckling his belt next, he graciously pulled it out of the loops from his slacks. At first, I thought he was going to push himself on me. I could have been ready for that. Not once did I think he was going to do what he was about to.