Other than Vera, the women within these walls weren’t here of their own volition. They didn’t want rotten, horny, old men touching them. But before the night was over, Luke would shed the last of his humanity and become one of their tormentors.
Through passageways and common areas, Vera narrated the function of each space. With flicks of a hand, she rattled off directions to the indoor gym, spa, main pool, and communal dining room.
He focused on what she didn’t point out. Cameras in the ceilings of every room and corridor. Weapons beneath the shirts of every cartel member. Vacancy in the eyes of every young female.
They were all young. As in not legal. Not legal age or citizenship. The half-dressed girls milled about carrying drink trays, mopping floors, and entertaining the guests.
A white-haired man in a suit sat on the veranda with a snake-skinned boot propped on the coffee table. An oil baron? Texan rancher? Probably a greasy politician. A topless Asian girl perched on his lap, staring at nothing as he fondled her breasts.
In the pool beyond, another girl bent over the side, moaning half-heartedly while an obese man plowed into her from behind.
At the end of the hall, a petite brunette sat on the floor of a sunlit library, playing with a menagerie of plastic animal figurines. Toys. She wore two curly pigtails and a frilly pink sundress that bunched around her waist. A child’s dress.
She was physically small enough to be prepubescent, but her profile revealed a woman in her twenties. A creepy dichotomy, made worse by the tinkling octave of her childlike voice singing in Spanish.
He slowed in the doorway, morbidly captivated as she spread her legs and licked the long neck of a plastic giraffe. Her hand went between her thighs, exposing herself, and the figurine followed, repurposed as a different sort of toy.
Nothing wrong with age play in a safe environment. But this place wasn’t safe. Who knew how long she’d been enslaved here? Likely captured at a young age, the girl needed a loving home. And therapy. Not a sex resort for pedophiles.
“Como este, papá?” She worked the giraffe in and out of her body like a dildo, groaning a hollow giggling sound.
“Yes, babygirl. Just like that.” A masculine voice rasped from around the corner. “Fuck that juicy cunt for your daddy.”
Heat simmered across Luke’s skin, and he quickened his gait. But he couldn’t look away as he passed the room, locking onto a middle-aged, average-looking man sprawled in the chair a few feet from her.
There was nothing normal or average in his eyes. The son of a bitch viciously face-fucked another girl while watching the one on the floor.
Sex charged the air, humming and writhing on the breeze. Luke felt it in his pores, sizzling his blood, and tightening his trousers. It made him itchy. Restless. Primed to sink into hot, wet pussy.
Christ, he was surrounded by temptation. Perfect bodies, soft mouths, doll-like eyes, irresistible feminine beauty, and it was all his for the taking. The wrongness of it swelled his cock, thickening with violent need.
What a sick, twisted fuck.
He dragged a hand down his face and looked away, catching Tomas’ blank stare behind him. At least one of them seemed to be unaffected.
Everything about this place stank of sin, awakening suppressed urges, tantalizing him, and they hadn’t even scratched the surface. These girls were just the entertainment, the docile ones who had been beaten out of their wild state and made tractable. Usable. Stripped of all hope and will.
There would be others hidden somewhere on the property—the untouched virgins who were freshly captured, full of fight, and caged like livestock. They were the forbidden flesh. The highest price tags. The ones who would be sold and sent home with guests.
Despite Luke’s filthy dark appetite for sex, he only wished to free them. But that wasn’t his purpose here.
His target was Vera.
Why would she want any part of this? Didn’t she miss her sister? He knew her background, her education, her life story. She hadn’t been raised in an abusive household or neglected by an unloving family. What was her motivation to be here? Money? Power? Or was she in trouble? Maybe she was being blackmailed, and her participation was all smoke and mirrors?
After surviving his own captivity and learning the tragic truth behind his captors, Van and Liv, he knew that not everything was as it seemed. The quickest way to the truth was to get close to this woman and coax her to talk.
She waited a few paces ahead, studying her fingernails as if the scene in the library had no effect on her. Maybe it didn’t, but he needed to test her.
A pretty Latina emerged in the hallway, carrying a stack of towels. Eyes directed at the floor, she strode by without looking up.
He grabbed her arm, halting her. “How old are you?”
“Whatever age you want me to be.” Her mousy voice matched the downward gaze.
“Show me.”
She set the towels on a chair behind her and reached for the neckline of her simple maid frock. A zipper ran down the front, which she pulled to the hem, fully opening the dress and revealing nothing beneath. Designed for easy access.
Stepping into him, she set her feet shoulder-length apart and put her hairless cunt next to his hand at his side. He only needed to twitch his fingers to feel her heat, tease her open, and sink inside.
He should do it. Make it look like he was interested. It was exactly what was expected of him.
But her age was questionable, and that doubt dumped ice water in his veins, holding him immobile.
“If it pleases Mr. Smith,” Vera said, nudging the girl back, “you’ll be sent to his room later. Go on now. Finish your work.”
The girl grabbed the towels and made a soundless, obedient exit. He kept his eyes on Vera, watching for something, anything, that might betray her thoughts.
She met his gaze with an unreadable expression. Impenetrable brown eyes. The stare-off stretched for a few seconds too long. Then her lips parted. A flush rose on her neck. Lashes fluttered, and her gaze pulled down and to the side.
Submissive. Aroused. Yeah, she definitely found him attractive. If he snapped his fingers, would she lower to her knees and service his cock?
“That girl wouldn’t please me.” He lifted her chin with a knuckle, guiding her eyes to his. “She’s too young. Too…passive.”
“Noted.” She turned on her heels and exited the breezeway, stepping into the foyer of a connecting building.
He followed at a leisurely stroll, admiring the way her ass swayed. As Tomas trailed, Luke refrained from stealing another glance at his friend. Too many exchanged looks would invite suspicion from whomever monitored those cameras.
“Here we are.” She stopped at the first door and inserted a key card.
The lock buzzed open.
Subtle hostility stiffened her movements. Was she jealous of his interaction with the girl? Annoyed? Tired of men hitting on her? No woman looked as good as she did without constant male attention. Especially not in this haven for perverts.
He played the part, leaning in and letting his breath brush her cheek. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re neither too young nor too passive. It would please me to have you sent to my room later.”
“Handsome and direct.” She pushed through the doorway and into a large private sitting room. “Two bedrooms. Kitchenette. Only one bathroom, but its ample size should be sufficient to share with your assistant.”