by Monica James
His scent punches me low, and I can’t help but rub myself over his hard-on. We both moan as this feeling is just too much. “I know you want me too.”
“Oh, fuck,” he growls, detouring to my ass and squeezing hard. “For once, I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“I don’t want you to,” I counter, biting over his racing pulse.
Each flick of my tongue shatters Saint’s resolve, and before long, he surrenders. He doesn’t fight me as I smash my lips to his and kiss him fiercely. Nor does he move a muscle when I unbuckle his belt and unfasten his zipper.
The moment I thrust my hand down his pants and grip his luscious cock, his hips rocket off the bed with a guttural growl. He is hot and heavy in my hand. I don’t know where to start, so I gently push my underwear aside. I want to feel him pressed up against me. I position my hips and rock forward, gasping when I feel his blunt head nudge at my entrance that is slick with my arousal.
Our lips are still locked—our breaths heavy and mingling as one—so feeling this connection down low just adds to the heightened sensation, and I whimper, needing more. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I continue rubbing him over my heated flesh because it feels so good.
All it would take would be a slight shift of my hips, and my bargaining chip would be gone for good. To feel him buried deep within me, claiming every part of me—mind, body, and soul.
I know it would hurt because of Saint’s size, but I want the pain. I welcome it. Pain makes me human. So with a deep breath, I brace myself for the intrusion…but it never comes.
The room spins before me as Saint flips us so I’m now the one lying on my back. He hovers over me, his eyes wild. “I said no,” he breathlessly pants, biting over my jaw.
I groan in desire and frustration. “Saint—”
But he doesn’t let me finish because what he says next leaves me a whimpering mess. “What I should have said was no, not now.” He trails kisses down my throat and over my breasts as he slithers down my body. “However, once you’re safe, and if you still want me…then the answer will be yes.”
I arch my back when he nestles between my legs, lifting my hem. His lips form an absolutely wicked smile when he focuses on my sex, and with a quick tug, he rips my underwear clean off. It pleases me for two reasons. One—it gives me great pleasure seeing something Alek bought for me destroyed. And two—it’s fucking hot.
But I can also play that game. “I will always want you, Saint.”
My words are like a trigger because a primitive growl bursts from him before he lowers his lips to my core and suckles. I cry out, threading my fingers through his long hair, needing something to hold on to before I float away.
The ferocity with which he consumes me leaves me in twisted, desperate knots. He isn’t gentle, but I don’t want him to be. He spreads my legs open and goes in deeper. I am lost to his tongue, his mouth as he samples me without apology.
I ride his face, uncaring that I demand he put me out of my misery because I just want to come. He sinks two fingers into me, spreading me impossibly wide. I cry out, but soon realize these walls have ears, so I use my fist to mute my pleasured screams.
My body reaches the pinnacle impossibly fast, and I’m too weak to fight it. But before I am lost to the quiet, I whimper, “Teach me to be like you. Teach me how to fight.”
Saint’s hot breath ignites my skin, and I writhe madly. “Okay, aнгел, I will.”
When he drives his tongue deeper into me, I bow my back on the cusp of exploding. “Thank…you,” I pant, squeezing my eyes shut. “The next time I meet those men, I will be prepared.”
He doesn’t need me to elaborate who.
“I will always protect you,” he promises between fucking me with his mouth.
The sentiment along with his actions has me embracing my orgasm, but not before I confess, “And I…you. Oscar wants you…but he can’t have you because…you belong…to me.”
Saint pauses, surprised that I’m privy to Oscar’s attraction to him, before he slaps his tongue over my clit, making me see stars. “And you belong to me…Willow.” I’m swathed in everything Saint, and without a choice, I come…and I come hard. And loud.
Crawling up my body, he smashes our mouths together to mute my scream. I can taste myself on his lips, which just heightens my orgasm. His kisses destroy me, and I grow lax, my body trembling with the aftermath. My heart pounds fiercely, and I can’t wipe the smile from my cheeks.
We lie entangled, both our guards lowered as we rest nose to nose. We don’t have to say a single word because our lust-ridden gasps are all the speech we need. However, when a soft knock sounds on the door, my ecstasy shatters, reminding me this is all Saint and I will have—stolen moments in time.
“Willow, please come back to your room. Alek will be looking for you.” It’s Sara.
Saint brushes the hair from my cheeks, nothing but regret pooling in his eyes. But we both know she’s right. “You look beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
And just like that, I fall even harder.
Once I’ve said a sorrowful goodbye, I creep back to my room, ensuring to stay hidden in the shadows because just like Saint—I now belong in the darkness.
She is safe…for now as Alek is blinded by her perfection. But aren’t we all?
Day 47
“HARDER!”
I’m coated in perspiration, and my muscles ache, especially my wounded shoulder, but I embrace the burn because each bead of sweat takes me one step closer to regaining my life. Or, at least, a small sliver.
Saint stands before me shirtless, his ripped body shimmering under the bright lights, but I don’t allow the sight to distract me because we’re here for a reason. He’s teaching me how to fight.
So far, I’ve ended up on my ass more times than I care to admit, but I don’t see that as a failure. It spurs me on to get back up and try harder because each punch and kick on the focus pads and boxing bag has me feeling stronger.
“You’re not even trying!” Saint mocks loudly to be heard over the pop music blaring through the speakers. He waves the focus pads at me while I gnash my teeth together, attempting to prove him wrong.
But he is fast on his feet, and it’s easy to see why he’s good at being a…hitman. It’s still hard for me to stomach that fact, but I have come to accept it because that’s who he’s become to survive. Just as I have become Alek’s perfect submissive.
I have behaved as expected, and because of this, Alek has loosened up a bit, allowing Saint to train me. Saint invented the genius ploy that for me to stay in shape, I was to undergo brutal physical training. He called it bootcamp. He said it was an American thing.
Alek didn’t question it because I did what I was told. He thought the physical exercise was a part of my coaching for Saint to mold me into the perfect docile little lamb. And besides, there were cameras in every corner of the room, so it’s not like we could plot his death.
Saint was right. My virginity seems to be far more important to Alek than a quick roll in the hay. He has respected my wish to have my own bedroom, which has surprised me. I wouldn’t think a man like him would behave remotely like a gentleman.
But that’s exactly what he’s been.
I’m not fooled, though, as I know he’s just looking after his “investment.” That’s all I am to him. Come the night of the masquerade ball, which the date is yet to be announced, it’ll be a completely different story as he will have no qualms taking my virginity in front of a room full of perverted strangers. And I’m sure once I’m no longer a virgin, his chivalry will be long forgotten.
But that won’t happen. I’d rather die than allow myself to be used that way ever again.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Saint’s sarcasm whips me into the now. “If you’ve got someplace better to be, like kneeling at Alek’s feet, then don’t let me stop you.”
Everything fades into the background as I narrow my eyes, intent on knocking that smug grin off his
handsome face. “Fuck you.”
With a rumble, I charge forward, punching the focus pads he holds with all my might. He’s taught me a few boxing combinations, so when he attempts to knock me on my ass, I duck and deliver an uppercut. He staggers back, smirking.
“Again.”
This continues until I can no longer feel my arms, but giving up isn’t an option. Whenever I lower my guard, Saint knocks me to the floor, scolding me for not trying harder. I know what he’s doing, and it’s working because over the past few days, I have felt myself grow stronger and I’ve learned how to defend myself.
It’s still early days, but with Saint as my teacher, failure isn’t an option. He isn’t gentle. When I lower my guard or am too exhausted to jump to his command, he makes me pay. Bruises cover my body, but each blemish only has me more determined to succeed.
“Jab!” he exclaims, flashing me the mitt, which I punch. “Jab to the body!” He holds the mitt low, which I strike. “Jab to the head! Then body!” I do as he demands, following the sequence and watching his hands…a rookie move.
He kicks out his leg and trips me. I tumble onto my back, cursing my slipup.
“What did I tell you?” he asks. Shaking his head, he removes a mitt and offers to help me up.
“Never take my eyes off my opponent,” I reply between clenched teeth as I reach for his hand. He yanks me up, and thanks to my equilibrium being off, I topple forward.
He’s the only thing to break my fall, so I clutch onto his biceps, which are slick with perspiration. His scent is amplified, and unable to help myself, I inhale, relishing his unique fragrance. My body hums in awareness because he is hot and hard, and I desperately want to lick the beads of sweat collecting in the light hair on his chest.
The barbell in his nipple just adds to the appeal, and I wonder what it would feel like under my tongue. I focus on the cursive font across his chest which reads Only God Can Judge Me. The more time I spend with him, the more I come to understand its meaning.
When the word Sinner tattooed along his flank catches my eye, I gently squeeze his biceps as the tattooed feathers beneath my fingers contradict that claim. Yet his angel wings inked across his back and shoulders complement his name. But who he is and what he does would warrant his wings to be clipped.
Maybe they already have been. Hence the tattoo.
Suddenly, I’m hit with a heartbreaking epiphany. The black armband he has inked under his elbow. I always wondered what it meant, but now, being faced with so much loss, I now know what it means. Tracing it with my finger, I watch as his golden skin breaks out into goose bumps.
“You got this for every person you’ve…?” But I can’t say it. I may accept it, but saying it aloud…baby steps.
“Yes.” He has no problem with what he is. How can he? He is in eternal mourning for his victims, and that armband will forever remind him of what he’s done. I run my fingers over it, knowing it signifies so much. His own personal scarlet A.
His breath is hot and heavy, and I know I’m not the only one affected whenever we touch. I peer up at him from under my lashes. God, I want to kiss him. I want to scale up his hulking body and lose myself forevermore.
His sweatpants sit low on his tapered waist, emphasizing his glorious V muscle. The scars all over his body are like a roadmap, and I want to follow each one with my tongue. He is ripped, rugged, and oozes decadent sinfulness. Each second spent with him has me slipping further into hell.
“Aнгел,” he quietly cautions. His eyes dart to the corner of the room, reminding me to never make the mistake in thinking we’re alone.
With regret, I let him go.
He casually walks over to the water fountain while I reach for my towel. To onlookers, it appears innocent enough, and with the loud music playing over the speakers, if one of Alek’s men were to listen in, all he would hear is Britney Spears.
We have been training in this well-equipped gym each day, ensuring not to rouse any suspicion. So far, we’ve slipped under the radar, but when the doors open and in strolls Alek, I panic, thinking our hoax is up.
Saint slowly wipes the water from his lips, his demeanor as cool as cool can be. I mute the volume on the stereo before coming to a stand by Saint with my arms behind my back and my eyes downcast. The position he told me to take whenever Alek enters a room.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Alek’s smooth, unruffled voice makes me think we’re safe—for now. “We have some business to attend to this evening.”
“Let me get cleaned up. I’ll show aнгел to her room.” Saint grips my elbow, ready to escort me, but it appears Alek has other plans.
“No, she’s coming too.”
I measure my breathing, not wanting my nerves to show.
“Okay. If that’s what you want,” Saint replies calmly, tugging on my arm. “Come on.”
However, it seems Alek wants to speak with Saint alone. “Sara is waiting outside. She can help you get ready.”
Just as Saint taught me, I slowly lift my eyes to meet Alek’s. When he addresses me, I’m to look at him. When he doesn’t, I’m not. Alek looks casual in khaki chinos and a blue button-down shirt. But I don’t let his relaxed vibe fool me.
I don’t look at Saint for permission because Alek is my supposed master now, and when he gives a direct order, I’m to jump to command. Nodding, I make a beeline for the door, but I’m not quick enough because Alek reaches out and snares my arm.
Every part of my body wants to rip from his hold, but I stand passive, awaiting Alek’s next move. He runs a fingertip down my forearm, causing me to break out into goose bumps—the kind when something scary is about to happen.
“Tomorrow when you train, I want you to wear something a little less revealing.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look at him, and I find myself staring into the steel blue eyes of the devil. “I don’t want my men ogling you. Understood?”
With a jerky motion, I bob my head once.
I can’t help but wonder if his comment is directed at Saint. Has he been watching us? I’m hardly parading around in my underwear. I’m in NIKE training leggings, sneakers, and a crop top. The standard gym wear. But tomorrow, I guess I’ll be forced to wear a burlap sack.
“Good girl. Now go get ready.”
I don’t wait for further instruction because when he releases me, I can’t get out of the room quick enough, though I’m worried for Saint. What does he want to talk to him about? But he can look after himself and obeying my “master” is the reason I’m not cuffed to my bed.
Sara is a ball of nerves when I walk out into the hallway. She quickly drags me away, mumbling in French. “Sara?” I question, wondering why she’s edgier than usual. “What’s wrong?”
“Alek has asked me to come with you tonight. That’s never happened before,” she reveals, chewing her bottom lip. I can now understand her concern.
“Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly sharing her apprehension.
She lifts her shoulders, revealing we’re both going in this blind. If that’s the case, I do the only thing I can to show her she’s not alone. I reach for her hand and squeeze it tight.
Seeing as we had no idea where we were going, Sara and I decided to wear something causal. She’s in a yellow pinafore dress while I opted for a dark blue chiffon mini dress with brown belt. Although it’s sleeveless, the neckline is high, so I don’t feel too exposed. I would give anything to wear my cowboy boots, but as there are none here in my closet, I’ve decided to wear brown ankle boots instead.
Sara waits nervously by the door, and when there is a knock, she yelps, betraying her nerves. She opens it to find Hans standing before her and reveals just how terrified she is by leaping into his arms. Even though this PDA is definitely forbidden, neither seems to care.
They hug one another tightly as Hans assures her it’ll be all right. These walls lack love and warmth, so seeing this foreign sight has tears threatening to break past the floodgates. Something I
took for granted once upon a time now has the ability to leave me a blubbering mess.
“It’s okay. We are going to meet a new supplier. That’s all,” Hans says, rubbing Sara’s back as she cries into his chest. “Alek just wants to show off his prettiest girls.” He nervously meets my gaze, which I quickly avert as to not encroach on a private moment.
“Are you sure?” Sara sniffs, slowly pulling away. The moment may have only lasted a few seconds, but it’s enough for now.
“Yes. I overheard him talking to Saint. Don’t worry. I will be there.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Sara whispers, placing her palm to his cheek.
My heart breaks for these two secret lovers who have been brought together by heinous circumstances yet still managed to find beauty in the storm. I admire that. I wish they could watch their love grow freely, but we’re all caged birds with our wings clipped.
“Let’s go.” Saint’s sharp voice has Hans and Sara breaking apart quickly. Her cheeks redden while Hans stands tall, pretending Saint didn’t just catch him in a compromising position.
I know he’s mostly bark, but I wonder if they do. He does do Alek’s bidding. What do they see when they look at him?
When he comes into view, I know what I see, and that’s a man who isn’t interested in small talk. Something bad is about to go down. Hans may not know the full story or he may have played it down to calm Sara, but whatever we’re about to walk into can’t be good.
Saint takes a moment to take me in, and when he doesn’t mask his appraisal, I realize Hans and Sara can be trusted. The holster on his hip ruins the moment, and I swallow nervously.
Hans leads Sara out into the hallway while Saint waits for me by the doorway. I want to say so many things, but instead, I close my bedroom door and silently follow him through the rat maze. I’m slowly familiarizing myself with the layout, but this place resembles a labyrinth, which, of course, is done with intent.
