by Lori Lane
I watched as Clarke put in a key code and the elevators opened to his apartment. The lights were off, leaving little for light except for the moonlight pouring in from the large windows onto the marble floor of his living room. Even in the darkness, I could see the expensive furniture, electronics, and fireplace. My preconceived idea of what Clarke's life would be like – after finding out about the whole Mafia thing – was one-hundred percent correct. Lavish and powerful.
He seemed to sense how I was feeling about it because he waved his hand dismissively as we walked inside. “I'm not a snob or anything, promise. The apartment was furnished before I started renting it.”
After he turned the lights on, Clarke went to the bar next to the balcony door and started mixing a drink. His powerful arms shaking the shaker as I watched him with my arms wrapped around myself. “Please, make yourself at home, Catherine.”
I sheepishly walked through the apartment and tried not to make a wrong step as I sat down at the bar. “Uh, what are you making?”
He smiled. “Manhattan. I promised you a drink, didn't I?”
I couldn't help but smile at that, despite the events that transpired tonight, I was still incredibly attracted to him. His suaveness and intrigue continued to draw me in no matter how many red flags went up.
“Am I allowed to ask you the normal dating questions while we drink?” I asked him, leaning my cheek on my hand as I watched him.
He nodded. “To your heart's desire.”
I wanted to ask the obvious question of what do you do for work, but that felt too on the nose in this case. So, instead, I went with the next question that came to mind and hoped it wouldn't strike a nerve.
“Tell me about your family.”
Clarke's body stiffened for a moment and then he recovered. “I don't really like to talk about my family.”
I could respect that even though I wondered how bad his family life could've been.
“Okay, uh, what are your favorite things to do?”
He pulled out two glasses and poured the cocktail into them before he answered.
“I like driving at night, I think it's soothing.”
A nostalgic feeling ran through me and I smiled fondly. The man I considered to be a brother used to pick me up at night and we'd drive for hours. It made the especially dreadful days bearable and relaxed me during the stressful ones.
Clarke set a glass in front of me and leaned against the bar as he looked at me thoughtfully. His dark eyes searching mine for as long as I allowed. I still couldn't look into his for too long without feeling intimidated.
“So, am I allowed to ask you questions, too?” He asked, sipping his drink.
I tasted the Manhattan before answering, surprised that I enjoyed the taste. Normally, I went for the sweetest tasting cocktails, but I couldn't help but like this more sour-tasting one. It warmed my belly as it went down.
“If we're going to get to know each other, I'd expect nothing less,” I finally answered, meeting his gaze evenly in an attempt to gain my confidence.
His smile returned and for the first time tonight, I realized that he had a subtle dimple on his left cheek. “What do you want to do with your life?”
I was taken aback by his question. It seemed like a very serious question to ask someone off the bat. At least to me, anyway. But, more than anything, I didn't know the answer to the question. I went to college for four years and got a bachelor's degree in nursing and worked at the hospital in Olympia. I only did that because it was a higher paying job and I knew that my people skills were good enough. In truth, I was very bored and unsatisfied with my life.
“Well, I'm a nurse and it's pretty okay, I guess. But, to be totally honest with you, I have no fucking idea what I want to do with my life,” I answered him honestly and sighed softly.
He pursed his lips. “Then, what interests you?”
“I'd like to travel. Most of my life has been spent in Seattle or Olympia. I haven't even left the state my whole life, if you can believe that,” I scoffed, stirring my drink with my finger absently.
Clarke made a noise of sympathy. “We're going to have to change that very soon. Traveling is very therapeutic.”
I laughed softly, looking at him thoughtfully. “Where would we travel to?”
He shrugged, finishing his drink. “Wherever you wanted to go first. I'd let you plan the whole thing if you wanted to.”
My eyes widened and I waved my hands at him. “You don't want to give me that much power. I can go a little overboard.”
Clarke closed the distance between us, standing between my legs and gazing down at me fervently. “If it makes you happy, it couldn't be too over the top. Your smile is worth more than any amount of money in the world.”
I flushed at the compliment, my breath catching as his face hovered closely with mine. He was a second away from my lips and I wet them nervously as his liquored breath fanned across my face. I was conflicted about whether or not I wanted him to kiss me.
On the same token, I wanted to grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him so hard neither of us could breathe. His lips looked so soft and tempting. The depths of his nearly black eyes were enchanting instead of terrifying at this distance. My attraction to him had come back full force and I felt weak.
“Catherine,” he whispered, his hands gripping the back of the barstool I sat on.
I held onto the cushion underneath me as his name came off of my tongue like a demand. Our eyes were locked, searching endlessly for the answer to a question. My body yearned for him in a way I didn't appreciate.
Clarke leaned forward and placed a greedy kiss on my lips, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulled our bodies together. I melted into his chest, my fingers digging into his back as I pulled him closer. Our lips moved in eager exploration, tongues dancing in a passionate tango.
I gasped softly when he picked me up and placed me on the bar, equalizing our heights as he captured my lips once more. His hands searched my body, pulling the thin fabric of my blouse up as he moved up my torso. I let him take the fabric all the way over my head, gathering my hair to one side of my shoulders before devouring his lips. Our bodies pressed tightly together as he slid his hands into the back of my jeans to cup my ass through lace panties.
Things were moving very quickly toward sexual territory and I had to decide if that was what I wanted. Being a virgin for so long has been embarrassing and left a desire within me, but did I want to give my virginity to the man who claimed me due to debt? It didn't sound romantic per se, however, I didn't want it to stop either. Clarke gave me so many naughty feelings and I wanted to act on them.
Which is why it shocked both of us when I pulled away and put my hand on Clarke's chest to keep him at a distance.
“Wait. Before we go any further, I should probably tell you that I … I haven't ever …” I whispered, unable to actually say the words I'm a virgin.
Clarke's eyebrow rose inquisitively and he smirked a little. “Are you telling me that you're a virgin, Catherine?”
I nodded sheepishly.
His eyes darkened lustfully and he pulled my face towards his. “That's incredibly sexy. You're a delicacy and I must have you.”
I tried to pull away and he wrapped his hand around my throat softly but firmly.
“Catherine, I want you. Let me have you,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over my throat slowly.
Desire flared in my core and I swallowed hard as his lips brushed against mine once. His hold over me – both figuratively and literally – was too strong for me to deny. Even if I wanted to, Clarke already had me right where he wanted me.
I nodded weakly as his lips moved against mine again.
“I want you to say it,” he murmured, continuing to rub his thumb over my throat.
“I'm yours,” I whispered.
Clarke's free hand found its way to my jeans, slipping completely into my panties where he caressed my sensitive folds. His lips went to my ear as he ventured in
side with two fingers. “Wow, you're already so wet,” he breathed, tightening his hand around my throat and chuckling when my core gave an appreciative squeeze in response.
“You're so timid and yet you seem to love being intimidated. Do you enjoy feeling submissive, Catherine?” He taunted, curling his fingers inside of me.
I gasped and grabbed the hand around my throat tightly. Fear and desire coursed through my body as our eyes met, my heart racing erratically in my heaving chest. He immediately hit several nerves and I didn't want to make a habit of him treating me this way.
“Give in to it, Catherine. I'm not going to hurt you,” he murmured against my ear as he ran two fingers along with my clitoris in slow strokes.
Breathlessly, I moaned and leaned my pelvis into him involuntarily.
“Good girl,” he coaxed as he released my throat in favor of unclasping my bra.
The weight of my breasts dropped from the cups as he pulled it off of me and I reflexively covered them with my arms. My chest was very large in comparison to my forearms, spilling over the sides as I covered them. His hand returned to my throat playfully, caressing the flesh softly – almost like a warning.
Slowly, I moved my arms to allow him the sight he desired. I watched as his eyes darkened lustfully, his hand traveling down to cup the left one. He kneaded it pleasantly, pinching the nipple between his fingers. It sent an erotic shiver through my spine, arching my back.
Clarke picked me up after that, walking toward the back of the apartment with purpose. His hands placed firmly on my ass as I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself. Our pelvises were all but pressed together and I could feel the hardness of his bulge in the contact. It sent a whole new feeling through me as I moved against it, testing the feeling.
It caught his attention and he pushed me up against a wall, his hands moving to my hips. Our eyes met as he moved my hips rhythmically against his, the friction fluttered through my core and I bit my lip lustfully. Clarke's mouth found my throat and I whimpered when his teeth grazed the skin before he clamped down and sucked until it hurt. He continued to move our hips together and continued to suck on my neck, moving along with the line from my collar bone to my ear.
“Fuck,” I whimpered vulnerably, feeling hot all over and suddenly very trapped against the wall.
It was then that the elevator bell dinged and someone came into his apartment quickly, almost running right into us. I struggled into Clarke's chest to keep my modesty as the man turned around sheepishly.
“I'm sorry, sir, but there is something very important that we need to talk about in private,” he apologized as Clarke set me on my feet, took his shirt off, and handed it to me.
I scrambled to put it on and turned my back to button it up.
“This better be so fucking important,” Clarke growled as they retreated to the living room.
After buttoning the shirt all the way up, I picked one of the three doors and went into the room for privacy. It happened to be what I imagined was Clarke's bedroom and I took the time to appreciate it. He had a king-sized bed against the furthest wall, a dresser, and two nightstands with fancy-looking lamps. I turned one of them on and sat on his bed, stroking the soft blanket.
It was then that I realized what almost just happened and I started to panic. How could I be so easy to get? That set a very bad first impression for my time here. I didn't want Clarke to think that he could run over me like a doormat, and here I was giving him just that. God, I'm such a dumb ass, I scolded myself and collapsed on my back. He already intimidated me and here I am giving him the damn key to making me submissive.
Clarke came into the room a few minutes later looking very upset. “I have to go out and do some things, don't leave the apartment. Darius and Mathias are right outside if you need anything.”
More bodyguards, I thought with disgust.
He came over to me and pulled me up by the collar of my shirt, planting a passionate, rough kiss on me. I kissed him back breathlessly and blushed when he pulled away. “I'll be back in a few hours, don't get into any trouble.”
And then he was gone, leaving me in his apartment with two bodyguards, feeling more confused than I ever had before.
Chapter 3:
I slept like shit. Clarke didn't come back for a very long time, the sun had risen by the time he finally came stumbling into the bedroom. I saw him for a moment before falling back to sleep and when I woke up he was gone again. Which left me to fend for myself in his apartment. I'm not helpless or anything, but I didn't appreciate being left alone either. He could've at least woken me up to tell me he was leaving again.
My opinion changed when I went into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of my neck in the mirror. Big, nearly black splotches marked nearly every inch of it and when I touched it, pain radiated across the skin. He had marked me as his … and he hadn't half-assed it at all. Anger rose in my throat as I swallowed and bit my lip.
Who the hell does he think he is? I thought bitterly as I undressed for a shower.
I liked to imagine yelling at him when he came through the door, really giving it to him to put my foot down. But, deep down, I knew it wouldn't happen. Clarke was intimidating. I sat in the shower, letting the hot water work into my aching muscles, and pretended for as long as I could that I was strong enough.
By the time I was dressed and leaving the bathroom, the elevator bell dinged and Clarke came through it. He looked annoyed and tired but smiled when he saw me. I couldn't help the anger that returned when my hand touched my neck nervously. Just tell him not to do it again, the little voice in my head egged me on.
“How did you sleep?” He asked as he kissed the top of my head fondly on his way to the bar.
I inhaled deeply and followed him. “Actually, can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course you can,” he told me sweetly, pouring things into the shaker.
I stood there, rubbing my arms, and cleared my throat. “I'd, uh, really appreciate it if you didn't do this again,” I told him, pointing at my neck.
He chuckled. “Why not?”
“Because I have a job that sort of frowns upon things like this and I'd like to keep it,” I snapped, crossing my arms.
Clarke's humor left and he met my gaze with dark eyes. “You don't need that job anymore, Catherine. I'm here to take care of you now.”
I shook my head. “No way. I'm not quitting my job.”
He placed the shaker down on the bar and came to stand in front of me. “Excuse me? I don't think I quite heard you right.”
“You heard me, Clarke,” I told him firmly, holding my ground.
He grabbed my face firmly and leaned down so our faces were close. “I don't like that tone of voice from you, Catherine. So, I'm going to ask you one more time, what did you say?”
I don't know where the sudden fearlessness came from, but I was riding high on it with no plans to stop. Clarke would not walk all over me today.
“I'm not quitting my job, Clarke, and you can't make me,” I told him once more, grabbing his hand and forcefully removing it.
Big mistake on my part, I can admit it.
Clarke's anger rose well above my own and he grabbed me by the throat, not so gently this time. I gasped as his hand tightened until I couldn't breathe, holding me to my toes as his gaze bore into me.
“I absolutely can make you, Catherine. I think you're forgetting that I'm a dangerous man and I always get my way,” his words were slow, calculated in their dark tone. He was being as patient as physically possible with me and if I pushed him any further it would be much worse.
My hands wrapped tightly around his wrist and I tried to pull it away, but he was much stronger than I was. It made me feel small and weak, it made me want to give in to whatever he wanted. No questions asked.
“One more time, Catherine. What did you say?” He asked, releasing me from his grasp, his hand hovering over my throat.
I gasped and coughed as air entered my lungs.
<
br /> “I'm lucky to have you,” I wheezed, my voice hoarse.
He ran his thumb over my bottom lip affectionately and smiled. “Good girl.”
Once he returned to the bar and resumed shaking his drink, I retreated to the bathroom and allowed myself to fall apart. I splashed cold water on my face and hyperventilated as tears fell. What the fuck!
I started to wonder what the rest of my life would look like with Clarke's hold over me. Would he continue to do things like this? Am I going to make it out of this alive? If I try and deny him things, would he eventually end up killing me?
The thoughts sent me into a panic attack and I desperately tried to calm myself. He definitely wasn't going to want to see me like this. I didn't want him to see me like this – it was embarrassing and would only make me feel weaker.
I cleaned myself up, splashing water on my face until I felt ready enough to join Clarke in the living room. He was sitting on the couch with a drink in his hand, reading something on his phone. I slowly sat down next to him and smiled softly when he looked over at me.
“I'm sorry, Catherine. Sometimes my anger gets the best of me and I don't know what I'm doing,” he said, seeming genuine.
I wanted to believe him, but a small part of me doubted that he really meant it. Regardless, I reassured him that I understood, running my fingertips over his cheek softly. He smiled approvingly and set his drink on the coffee table before pulling me into his lap.
“I think we should finish what we started last night,” he suggested flirtatiously, running his fingertips down my spine.
I bit my lip and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, continuing down the length. Last time we got hot and heavy, he saw so much of me and I never got the chance to appreciate his body. Even though I feared Clarke, I still felt drawn to him – both emotionally and sexually. My eyes drank up his strong abdomen muscles, fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos as I eased the shirt off of him.
