“You’re the one who insists on feeding me one tiny piece at a time,” I complained.
“If you’d stop sassing me, this would go faster,” he drawled.
I narrowed my eyes at him to communicate my lingering displeasure with the entire weird scenario, but I allowed him to continue feeding me. I ended up eating well over half the steak before he actually used a freaking fork to deliver mouthfuls of the most delicious seasoned rice I’d ever tasted. I might have felt a little guilty that I ate most of the food, but he seemed content for me to have as much as I needed. When I finally turned my face away, he ate what was left.
He finished and lifted me off his lap to place me on the mattress.
“Stay.”
He didn’t have to restrain me to ensure that I didn’t follow as he wheeled the cart out of the bedroom and out into what I now assumed was a sitting room. By the time he shut the door and returned to me, I lay back on the mattress, exhaustion and a pleasant sense of finally being well-fed making me sleepy.
“Go brush your teeth and wash your face,” he ordered, grasping my hand and pulling me upright.
I made a little grumbling noise, which morphed to a yelp when he swatted my ass.
“Go on,” he said sternly.
My feet dragged across the carpet as I crossed to the bathroom. Moving seemed much harder than it should, my body aching in places I’d never imagined could feel tired and sore.
I shut the bathroom door behind me and took care of my essential needs. An unopened toothbrush waited for me on the sink, as well as feminine face wash and moisturizer. I wondered when Andrés had gotten these items for me, and I concluded that the boy who’d come in to clean the bathroom must have stocked the place for me.
I glanced at the shower. I hadn’t noticed before, but a brand new razor hung from beneath the showerhead, replacing the one I’d broken this morning.
“You got a new razor,” I said when I re-entered the bedroom, puzzled as to why he’d let me near a potential weapon again.
He met me with a level stare. “And you didn’t break it apart and attempt to cut my throat. I don’t need to worry about you trying that again, do I?”
My cheeks heated, and I dropped my gaze from his. I could still see the angry red line of the shallow cut I’d inflicted across his chest. He was covered only in the towel he’d slung around his hips after our shower, his powerful form clearly on display where he lounged on the bed.
“No,” I admitted, my voice small with shame. I wouldn’t try it again. Not because I didn’t want to get spanked, but because I had to acknowledge that I truly didn’t have it in me to rip open a man’s throat. Besides, it had been a stupid, reckless plan, anyway. Where did I think I was going to go after I took out Andrés? There had to be dozens of men between me and freedom. And I didn’t think they’d like it if they found me with their boss’ blood on my hands.
“Smart girl,” he said with satisfaction. “Come over here.”
He stood and pulled back the covers, gesturing for me to get in.
I didn’t move toward him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Putting you to bed,” he said, as though this was completely normal.
“I’m not a little girl. I don’t need you to tuck me in.”
A smile flitted around his lips. “Must you be so difficult about everything? You seem to love contradicting me.” He patted the mattress. “Do you want a spanking before bed, or are you going to be a good girl for me?”
I huffed out a frustrated breath and closed the distance between us. The sad reality was, I was too tired to keep fighting. I’d managed to get some much-needed calories back in my system, but my mind had been sapped with terror for most of the day. Not to mention the other new, intense experiences he’d forced upon me.
“Only because I’m tired,” I said as I slid beneath the sheets.
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” he allowed. “One way or another, you obeyed me, Samantha. That pleases me.”
I rolled onto my side, facing away from him, and curled my knees up close to my chest in a protective position. He didn’t comment on my small show of resistance. He simply pulled the covers over me and tucked me in like a child. It was weird. Fucked up.
Warm and soft.
And I was so tired.
“Go to sleep, sirenita.” His long fingers played through my hair, and my eyes slid closed.
Without meaning to, I obeyed yet another of his commands and surrendered to my exhaustion.
Chapter 9
The mattress shifted beneath me, rousing me. For a moment, I panicked. I wasn’t accustomed to sleeping with anyone else, so the instinctive knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my bed startled me.
Then I remembered that I wasn’t in my bed. I was in Andrés’ bed. The bed where he’d bound me and made me have my first orgasm.
My cheeks colored in the darkness. Shades had been lowered over the huge windows, hiding the Chicago skyline. But no light peeked around them, so I assumed it wasn’t morning yet. I hated not having a fucking clock. This room was absolutely devoid of even that level of technology. I’d go mad in here without access to a computer.
I’m going to get out of here, I promised myself. Maybe it wasn’t likely that my friends would find me. Maybe there were dozens of men standing between me and freedom. Not to mention my massive, scary captor.
But that wasn’t going to stop me from trying. It was nighttime. Most of the building’s inhabitants would likely be asleep.
That included Andrés, who was snoring lightly on the other side of the massive bed. I’d awoken when he’d rolled away from me, and his arm no longer weighed me down. If I could slip out without disturbing him, I might be able to make my way out of the suite and get to the exit before he woke up. Once I was in the street, I could shout for help. I could borrow someone’s phone.
It occurred to me that I’d have to go out in public naked, but I couldn’t risk taking time to rummage through Andrés’ drawers for something to cover myself. That would also make noise, and I couldn’t afford that, either.
Naked, it is, I told myself, reasoning that I’d attract help faster this way, once I got out into the street.
If I didn’t get killed on the way out.
Summoning up my courage, I carefully eased out of the bed, wincing when the mattress shifted ever so slightly beneath me. I paused, barely breathing.
Andrés continued to snore.
I exhaled and began to tiptoe across the plush carpet, making my way toward the door that led out into the rest of the suite. I squeezed my fist open and closed a few times to stop my fingers from trembling, then carefully turned the knob. The softest snick sounded as the latch disengaged.
Andrés didn’t stir.
I slipped out the door and cracked it behind me, not daring to shut it all the way in case it thudded closed.
City lights flooded the adjoining room, shining through another wall of windows. As I’d suspected, it was set up like a lavish sitting room. Finally, I spotted a clock. Of course, it was an ornate grandfather clock rather than something modern. Analog. Ugh.
Still, at least I now knew it was three thirty-five AM. Hopefully everyone really was asleep at this hour.
My gaze swept over the room, looking for the exit. Another closed door was set into the opposite wall from the windows. I started to make my way toward it when the shifting lights caught on something silver: an elevator. My way out.
I raced toward it on tiptoe, trying to move silently even as I rushed to freedom. I pushed the call button, which was illuminated in blue.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a loud buzzer sounded.
Fuck!
I hadn’t heard that sound when anyone else had come and gone from the suite. Why now?
Desperate, I punched the button again, knowing I had precious seconds before Andrés’ strong arms closed around me. The angry buzz echoed through the suite.
“It won’t
work for you,” he drawled.
I yelped and spun, backing up until my butt hit the cold silver doors behind me. Andrés stood in the doorway to the bedroom, the city lights reflecting stars across his black eyes. He didn’t move toward me.
The doors didn’t open behind me. Desperate, I hit the call button again.
Buzz.
His teeth flashed white through the darkness. “That elevator is accessed through thumbprint recognition. The only people who can come and go from this suite are those who have my permission. You don’t have permission, my curious gatita.” He finally began prowling toward me. “Did you want to explore my home?” he asked, the innocuous question made terrifying by the silky smooth tone of his voice. “Were you so eager to see the rest of it? I’m more than happy to show you.”
I shook my head wildly. “I didn’t… I don’t… I just want to go home,” I forced out past the lump in my throat. Whatever he was about to show me, I was certain it was terrible. I could read it in the hungry glint of his eyes, the sharpness of his smile. Dark anticipation pulsed around him like a palpable thing. It pressed against me, making me shudder.
“This is your home now,” he said when he finally reached me. There was nowhere for me to run, nowhere to hide. All I could do was press my body back against the cold metal doors and tremble.
His hand closed around the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair at my nape as he pulled me against him. He was naked, and his huge cock pressed into my belly.
“You weren’t really asleep,” I accused, knowing the truth. He was toying with me, testing me.
His grin sharpened. “Clever and curious,” he remarked with satisfaction. “No, I wasn’t asleep.” He leaned in, his cheek whispering against mine as he spoke low in my ear. “You can’t escape me, Samantha. There’s only one way out of this penthouse, and it’s barred to you. I don’t have to keep you collared and chained to trap you here. I just like it. I like knowing you’re naked in my bed, waiting for me.”
“You’re sick,” I said shakily.
He laughed softly. “You’ve called me worse already. Do you really think your little insults wound me? I’m going to tame your barbed tongue because I enjoy training you, not because it’s capable of hurting me. If you continue to defy me in this, the only time you’ll be allowed to use your tongue is when you’re worshipping my cock.”
My stomach churned, fear clogging my throat. I didn’t have any words, anyway. What was there to say in response to such a horrible declaration?
“But you wanted to see the rest of my home,” he continued smoothly. “Let me show you.”
“I don’t want to,” I squeaked out. “Please. I’ll go back to bed.”
He clicked his tongue at me. “The time for being a good girl has passed. You’ve been a curious gatita. You know what happens to curious kittens, don’t you?”
Curiosity killed the cat. “You said you wouldn’t kill me. Your brother wants me alive.”
His hand tightened around my nape. “This is about what I want,” he growled. “I don’t want you dead. I want you crying out and begging for mercy. My mercy. Don’t talk about my brother. Don’t think about him. He’s not your concern. I am.”
Keeping his grip on my nape, Andrés pulled me along in his wake, moving toward the closed door I'd noticed opposite the wall of windows. Dread settled in my gut, and my feet dragged on the carpet in token resistance. I could have clawed at him, at the very least. But my body remembered the punitive feel of his finger invading my bottom, and I didn't even half-formulate a plan to fight before he'd managed to drag me to the door.
"Please," I begged. "I don't want to go in there."
"You don't even know what you're scared of," he said, his voice colored with amusement.
"Whatever it is, I don't want it. You wouldn't want to take me in there if it were anything good. You're scaring me."
"You should be scared. You've been very naughty, trying to escape from me."
"But you just said I can't escape. I can't use the elevator. You don't have to hurt me to keep me from using it," I babbled on, desperate to stay on this side of that closed door. Even though the words tumbling from my lips made my heart sink as I recognized the truth in them, I had to press on. I didn't want to be punished.
He reached for the knob and pushed. The door swung open into darkness. The city lights shining behind us barely penetrated the blackness, as though refusing to illuminate the ominous space. The light had no place here. The scent of leather and something deeper teased through the air that drifted through the open door.
"Don't," I gasped out as he propelled me forward, into the darkness.
The soft click of a light switch being flipped registered in my ears, just before panic seized my senses.
It was like something out of the scariest corners of the internet. I'd seen some fucked up dungeon porn. Andrés might as well use this room as a set for the most depraved, disturbing videos I'd ever glimpsed before quickly clicking the back button on my browser.
Creepy crimson lights illuminated the space so I could clearly see every object that waited to torment me. It reminded me of the time I'd ventured to the BDSM club Dusk on my particularly misguided Valentine’s Day mission to seduce Dex.
"This isn't like Dusk," I told myself softly, not realizing I was speaking the words aloud. "It's not. Dusk is Safe, Sane, Consensual." I knew the tenets of BDSM, even if I'd never practiced it myself. "This isn't. I don't want this. Not like this."
"You've been to a BDSM club?" Andrés' voice penetrated my mounting terror. He kept his grip on my nape, but he stepped in front of me. His angry black eyes filled my vision, botting out the horror that surrounded me. "I thought you were my innocent little virgin. Did you lie to me, Samantha? I wondered when I didn't feel your hymen intact. But those can be broken in other ways, and I thought your surrender was genuine." His scar deepened to a furious slash. "I wasn't the first man to touch you. If you think you've suffered under my hand before, that's nothing compared to what's about to happen to you."
"No!" I half-sobbed. "I wasn't lying. I am a virgin, I swear."
"Then how do you know about Dusk?" he demanded.
"I went there one time," I gasped out. "I was looking for Dex. I followed him there. I wanted to see him. I wanted him to see me. But he didn't. He never does. I got drunk and left. I didn't do anything but drink at the bar. I promise, I didn't do anything. I didn't lie to you. Please, don't hurt me."
His eyes softened, his scar easing as the tension left his mouth. He didn't release me, but his grip shifted so his fingers rubbed the back of my neck.
"All right, sirenita. I believe you. I don't think you could lie convincingly if you tried. You will explain more about this later. For now, you have a lesson to learn."
"I just want to go back to bed." A tear slid down my cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.
"I'll put you to bed when we're finished in here. You must be punished for trying to escape. You need to understand that your behavior has consequences."
I started crying in earnest, harsh sobs wracking my chest as fear seized my system.
"Come here." He pulled me against his hard body, wrapping his arms around me in a firm embrace as he continued to rub the base of my scalp in little circular patterns. "It won't be so bad," he cooed. "I'm not angry with you."
"It will be," I insisted, my voice hitching. "Just because it would be worse if you were angry doesn't mean it won't be bad. This place is... It's not right. I don't want to be in here."
I shuddered against him, and his big hand stroked up and down my back in a reassuring motion.
"You'll get used to it," he said, his voice deep and calm. "We are going to spend a lot of time in here. I think you might even enjoy it, in a way." His soothing tone was so at odds with the horrible things he was saying that my mind couldn't quite process it. I felt comforted, even though my heart hammered against my ribcage.
"Take a deep breath," he said, a sof
tly-spoken order. "Good girl. Another."
I hadn't realized I'd complied, but my addled mind couldn't keep up with what was happening to me. My body obeyed, and my roiling emotions began to subside enough that I was no longer shaking and sobbing against my captor.
"Come with me," he commanded, finally releasing my neck to take my hand in his.
It was a sweet gesture, and he held my fingers so gently that he might have been my caring, kind boyfriend.
A caring, kind boyfriend I'd never had. A caring, kind boyfriend with a scary, scarred body and wicked gleam in his eye. A caring, kind boyfriend who was leading me toward...
I dug in my heels. "No."
"You don't get to say no," he told me, his voice still calm and even. "This is your punishment."
"You said you wouldn't hurt me," I said, trying in vain to jerk my hand out of his suddenly vise-like grip.
"I said I wouldn't harm you," he corrected me. "This won't leave any permanent marks. Although I'm interested to see how easily your pretty skin bruises. I do like seeing my marks on my pet."
I shook my head in wild denial. "Stop it! Stop. I'm not your pet. I don't want be marked or bruised."
"How else will you learn?" he asked, as though the question were completely reasonable.
"I don't need to learn anything. I just need you to let me go."
"You don't know what you need. I know what's best for you."
"You don't know shit," I railed at him, fear morphing to anger. "You're fucked up. You're so fucking messed up. Fuck you." I continued cursing at him, even as he pulled me inexorably forward. Mostly, I hurled the f-bomb at him. For once, he didn't rebuke me. He didn't say anything at all.
Which scared the shit out of me.
So I cursed at him some more.
He barely looked at me when he gripped my waist and positioned my body over the spanking bench. I knew what it was from years of indulging my perverted curiosity online.
But knowing what it was didn't prepare me for the full blast of terror that slammed into me when he pressed my torso down against the padded surface, forcing me to bend at the waist over the edge so my bottom was thrust up shamefully.
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