Blood Money: A Captive Romance (The Dirty Money Duet Book 2)

by BL Mute

  “Show me.” He says, stepping backward slowly until the backs of his knees hit the bed.

  I contemplate going to him, but not for long. Even with every confession he just told me, I still want him in every single way.

  I move forward, only stopping when I make it in front of him. I place my hands on his chest and can feel the beat of his heart on my palms.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Raking them down, I grab the bottom of his shirt and lift. It glides off his skin easily, revealing his skin beneath. I try to memorize every freckle, every muscle, every perfectly perfect imperfection. Scars, scratches, bruises. Nothing major, just reminders of the life he’s lived and the job he has.

  I drop his shirt and run the tips of my fingers over his skin. He’s so soft and hard all at once. When I make it to his collarbone, I pause for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

  He cocks his head to the side with curious eyes. “I do.”

  I nod and continue. Moving to his neck, I grip it, letting the tips of my nails bite into his skin. His hand shoots up and grabs my wrist, but he doesn’t pull me away. When my other hand moves to his chest, his moves to the small of my back, wrapping his arm around me before we fall onto the bed. I straddle his hips with my legs, never letting the grip on his throat fall. I can already feel his dick stiffening under me, and it makes me moan. The denim of his jeans scrapes the inside of my thighs with every movement as I grind myself on top of him, but it doesn’t stop me. I move my hips back and forth and feel my panties start to dampen.

  I lick my lips, then remove my hands to pull the dingy dress I’ve been stuck in since finding Bernard from my body. Exposed to the cool air and his gaze, my nipples pebble and my skin breaks out with goose bumps.

  “Touch me,” I whisper.

  He listens, running his hands along my sides, then up to my breasts. He cups each one in his hands and rolls my nipples with his thumbs. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You. Just you.”

  He moves his hands back down and grabs my waist before flipping me over. I close my eyes and wait for his lips to hit mine or even another spot on my body, but they don’t. When I open them, he’s moving from on top of me to the door, and gliding into the living room.

  Before I can ask any questions, he returns with the furry handcuffs. “This is me, Spitfire. Raw,” He steps closer and runs the fur up my thigh softly. “Animalistic.” He keeps moving until he’s by my head. “Real.” Lifting my hand, he clasps one cuff on my wrist and the other on the headboard. “There is no leaving after this.”

  I swallow hard as his eyes burn into me. “I don’t think I want to leave,” I confess. “I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I never want it to stop.”

  The way he looks at me. The way he touches me. The way he makes me feel. I never want to lose that.

  “Sometimes we don’t have to understand something to like it,” he replies, tugging on my cuffed hand to make sure it’s secure.

  He stands back to his full height and undoes his pants. After he pushes them down, he climbs back over me and settles between my legs. His cock pushes against my pussy. Reaching down with my free hand, I grip it and move him where I want him. I lay his length between my lips, then move my hips as much as I can. The fabric of my panties between us creates the perfect friction on my clit. I close my eyes and bite the inside of my cheeks to stop from screaming.

  This is all so much. The liquor, the words, the touching. I’m already so damn high and he’s barely touched me.

  “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you,” he growls, reaching down and pushing my panties to the side.

  When the head of his cock pushes into me, I cry out.

  His hand moves to my neck. “My name. Say it.”

  I obey and moan his name as he pushes further inside of me. “Cyrus!”

  One simple word—that’s all it takes to drive him forward. As his hold on my neck tightens and stars start to blur my vision, his thrusts get rougher. He goes deeper and deeper, reaching inside of me to evoke pleasure. His pelvis rubs my clit with every stroke, and I can’t take it anymore. I come.

  “Good girl. Come all over this cock.”

  His words do nothing but prolong my delicious torture. I grab his hip with my free hand and let my nails dig into his skin, while the other tugs at its restraint. Pain radiates around my wrist from the pressure, but it only makes everything ten times better.

  I warp my legs around him, still clawing at his side, just to keep him inside of me. I never want this to end, but he’s stronger. He’s always been stronger. Still pumping into me, he snags the key to the cuffs he abandoned on the nightstand and unlocks the one attached to the bed frame.

  As soon as my arm is free, he moves to his knees and slides an arm behind me. He grabs me hard, his fingers digging into me, marking me, and brings me to his chest. He stands and carries me back to the door where the mirror hangs before pulling out of me.

  He whips my body around so I’m facing the mirror and bends me at the waist. “Look at yourself while I fuck you. I want you to see what I see. I want you to remember the face you make when I come inside of you.”

  He slides back into me, his cock filling me up more than before, and I can’t help but cry out as I stare at myself. “Fuck!”

  “That’s it, Spitfire. Let go,” he says, grabbing my hips.

  His tempo increases, and I’m not sure how much more I can take. My knees shake, my lungs are barely functioning, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, chasing his own release.

  “Look at me!” he booms. “Look at who you fucking belong to.”

  My core tightens all over again, sending me over another edge. It’s the things of nightmares and dreams combined. Heaven and hell. So much pleasure, but so much pain. We’re two broken humans just trying to figure out life. Two people brought together by trauma who deal with it through sex. Whether he knows it or not, I’m his now. He’s claimed more than my body.

  Next thing I know, I feel him pulse inside of me, but his thrusts never stop. With each one, his cum spills out and runs down my legs.

  Yeah… I think to myself. I’m his.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CARMEN

  I roll over and touch the bed next to me. My fingertips graze the cold sheets, and immediately, my heart sinks. I shoot up and glance around, seeing everything still in its place. Rubbing my eyes, I hear movement in the kitchen and realize he hasn’t left.

  Relief sinks into me, relaxing my shoulders and calming my already pounding heart. I snag his T-shirt from the floor and put it on, then release a breath as I stand and make my way to the door. Leaning against the jamb, I stare through the kitchen doorway as he moves around, stirring things on the stove, rinsing dishes, and pouring drinks.

  The sweatpants he wears hang low on his waist, giving me the perfect view of the deep V etched in his hips. His biceps and abs flex with every movement he makes, and I’ve never been happier to see a man without a shirt. Staring at him only solidifies my thoughts from last night. He’s beautiful. Inside and out.

  I find myself smiling. What if I could wake up to this every day? The thought is fleeting as the reality of everything starts to set back in. Right now, I’m still his captive. His prey he caught and never intends to release.

  He finally catches sight of me as I’m deep in my thoughts. His sexy grin quickly falls as he moves toward me. “What’s the matter?” His hands reach out and grip my arms, squeezing them lightly.

  Releasing another deep breath, I move my eyes to his. “We can’t stay here forever, Cyrus. People are going to start worrying about me.”

  His frown turns to a hard line as he nods. “I know. I just…” He trails off, letting go of me and running his hand through his hair. “I have to figure out how to fix this.”

  He moves back to the kitchen, so I follow behind him. “I understand, but it’s already been, what, twenty-four hours or more? Considering how we left Lydia and Carter, I’m sure it’s only going to
be a few more hours—if we’re lucky—until they realize we aren’t coming back and start to worry.”

  The thought of how long he’s had me really sinks in. It’s been barely a day, yet everything leading up to this point seems to have happened a lifetime ago.

  He places his hands on the counter, remaining silent for a beat before speaking and dragging me from my thoughts. “You’re right.”

  Without another word, he exits the kitchen. I turn and watch him as he makes his way to the front door. “Wait. What are you doing?”

  More silence as he storms out the front door. I follow, trying to catch up, but stop when I make it to the doorway. Tiny leaps from the porch and sticks close to him as he opens the passenger door of his SUV. I watch as he reaches inside, then finally pulls out the same duffel bag he brought to Carter’s and the briefcase I stole.

  He walks back up the steps of the porch, Tiny in tow, so I open the door and hold it so they can enter.

  He unzips it, then dumps all the contents onto the couch. Random things like a pen and notepad spill out along with a gun, a gnarly-looking knife, and my own purse. He gives it one last shake, and a few clothes fall out.

  “I took these from Lydia before we left,” he remarks, pointing to the clothes and picking up my purse. “Here.” He hands it to me.

  I grab it and look at him, but he doesn’t offer an explanation. “Thank you?”

  He nods, then circles the couch and unplugs a big black box from the wall. “Call them and tell them you’re okay.”

  “What?”

  “Your phone is in there. Call Lydia so they don’t worry. Buy us some time.”

  I unzip it and retrieve my phone. I hold the power button on and wait a moment for it to come to life. As soon as the screen lights up, missed call notifications and messages start to pop up. I unlock it and start going through them. Most are from Lydia asking where I am and what happened. She can wait though because I see two missed calls from William.

  “I need to call William first.”

  Cyrus tips his head and narrows his eyes. “William?”

  I almost giggle because the jealousy he’s feeling is evident. “He’s our butler. Well, he’s more than that, but that’s the short explanation.” Without thought, I twist the snake ring on my pointer finger with my thumb.

  Cyrus catches the movement. “He get you that?” he asks, pointing with his eyes.

  I nod. “He’s like a dad to me. He’s nice and loving. All the things my dad isn’t.”

  He releases a breath. “Okay. Just tell him you’re fine, but it has to be quick. I can’t keep the blockers down long. It risks someone we don’t want to find us finding us.”

  I nod and click William’s contact. The line rings a few times as I bring it to my ear before he finally answers.

  “Carmen?”

  “Hey, William. Sorry I didn’t call. I got so caught up with Lydia and ended up crashing at her place. I think I’ll hang out here a few more days because she’s not doing too great. Missing her dad and stuff.” I give him the same lie I’ve fed him a million and one other times. Before, it was only so I could go out and party without him worrying or hook up with Bradley.

  “Okay,” he sighs with relief. “I was just worried since I haven’t heard from you. I just wanted to make sure all is well and let you know your father’s trip has been extended for a few weeks.”

  I roll my eyes. “No surprise there.”

  “Carmen,” he starts, but I cut him off.

  “It’s fine. Really. I don’t care, but thanks for letting me know. If I need anything, I’ll call.”

  Nothing but silence sounds out for a few beats. “Okay.”

  “I love you, William,” I add before he can hang up.

  “Love you too, kid.”

  I end the call and immediately type out a text to Lydia.

  Sorry. Me and Cyrus made amends—if you catch my drift. All is well. We’re just tying up some loose ends in Pine Hills for his job. I’ll call soon.