Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart
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With his cock throbbing, and heat coursing through him, he moved back to his desk to look over the day’s schedule a second time. He glanced at her name again, and his entire body came alive, because there was no denying that he’d just been gifted the perfect opportunity to help her free her submissive side. Of course, given that he’d only have one weekend, he’d have no choice but to push her limits and resort to some stronger methods to seduce the submission out of her. His fingers itched as he thought about that lush heart-shaped ass of hers and how much it needed his attention.
He inspected the itinerary closer and discovered that Jack Armstrong, a pilot that had been with the company since its early days was scheduled to depart for Freedom at nine sharp—Ms. Andrews the only passenger on board. Quinn considered her final destination. Not only had his company taken guests to the private island numerous time, he personally knew the resort well, having played there a time or two. Although this time he suspected the plane wasn’t going to make it to the well-known island nestled in the Atlantic Ocean, especially if he was the one in the pilot seat.
He picked up the paper, and traced his finger over her name as a devious plan began to formulate in his mind. As he sorted through all the naughty details, all the tricks he was going to use on her, he checked his watch then picked up his phone to call his personal assistant. After giving her a list of things he needed before takeoff, he dialed a friend and called in a favor. Once all the pieces were in place, and the discreet information he needed was on its way, he crossed Jack’s name off the manifesto, shrugged out of his dress jacket and grabbed his flight suit. Ms. Andrews might be looking for a little adventure at Freedom, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be the guy to give her what she really wanted, yet had no idea how much she needed.
Chapter Two
Rebecca wrung her damp hands together and tried to wrestle her nerves into submission as the small plane cruised through the cloudless sky. It wasn’t so much that she hated flying, it had more to do with what waited for her when they landed on the private island. But since her friends had gone to so much trouble to put this package together for her, and she truly didn’t want to disappoint them, she couldn’t very well say no and let it go to waste. Which was why she was currently flying over the Atlantic Ocean, on the way to some sordid sex club. That, of course, didn’t mean she had to partake in any of the resort activities, whatever they might be.
She glanced at her suitcase, and relaxed a tiny bit, knowing her files were tucked safely inside. Maybe the weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all. She could hole up in her room and get some work done and her friends would be none the wiser.
Pushing back into her seat, she looked at the ground below then stole a glance at the pilot negotiating the skies in front of her. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and hard body—one that filled out his dark flight suit rather nicely thank you very much—and gave her something to think about other than her final destination. She perused his profile, but with his hat pulled low and pair of dark sunglasses covering his features, she couldn’t identify his face. She studied him a moment longer, and felt a niggling in the depths of her stomach. There was just something about him that felt familiar—something that reminded her of Quinn Montgomery—but she knew it was well below the stature of a man who ran a multimillion-dollar company to be flying a customer to a sex resort.
She turned and stared out the window for the remainder of the trip and when the plane finally landed, she looked around, detailing the small island fringed by the cold waves of the Atlantic. The makeshift runway was surrounded by lush foliage, and off in the distance, high on a hill, she spotted an impressive estate. Although upon closer inspection, it looked more like a millionaire’s summer home than a lavish resort where hedonist activities took place. And if this was a sex resort, where was everyone? The place was empty. Not a single vacationer to be found.
She leaned forward and tapped the pilot’s shoulder, certain he’d made a mistake. But when he unbuckled his harness, opened the cockpit door and climbed from the plane, the niggling in her stomach grew to a full blown case of panic.
What is going on?
The pilot widened the door even more, and with every nerve in her body on edge, she remained seated. She straightened her back and said, "I think there’s been a mistake."
"There’s been no mistake."
Her heart jumped into her throat because the second he spoke, the second she heard that rich deep voice, one that evoked a myriad of sinful thoughts and had her mind whirling back to the trial of Quinn Montgomery, she knew her day had just gone from bad to worse.
"What’s going on?" she demanded, steeling herself as alarm flashed through her.
Mr. Montgomery removed his hat and glasses, and when she caught the intensity in those shrewd, dark eyes, a fine shiver moved through her, and much to her dismay she found it most difficult to hold his steely gaze.
"Welcome to Montgomery estate," he said, his tone low, controlled as he opened his palm to her. "My summer home."
Refusing to accept the offered hand, she forced herself to level him with a stare and climbed from the plane on her own volition. Even though he was dressed in a flight suit, everything about his demeanor screamed of sex, sin, seduction…long hard spankings.
Okay, where the hell had that thought come from?
Exasperated with the way he could affect her without even trying, she fished her phone out of her purse and held it high. She checked for a signal, then cursed silently. Her mind raced to her friends and their final warning last night. Truthfully, even if her phone worked here in the middle of nowhere, she knew her calls would go unanswered.
Don’t come home until you’ve had at least a dozen orgasms.
Without conscious thought her glance drifted to Mr. Montgomery’s hands, and her mind took that second to think about what they’d feel like on her skin, touching her, stroking her, bringing her to orgasm again and again. Oh God! Her entire body flushed and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stifle the tortured moan crawling out of her throat. Just standing next to a man who could undoubtedly divide and conquer with a simple look had her feeling edgy, out of control, completely at his mercy.
He took a measured step closer and as his presence dominated the wide expanse of island, and threw her off her game, she worked to summon a modicum of composure and asked in her best professional voice, "What do you want?"
He cocked his head, his glance leisurely moving over her face. "Relax, Ms. Andrews, you’re not in the courtroom anymore." His smile came slow. "You don’t get to ask the questions here."
Her towered over her, and with a stance that was both commanding and authoritative it became abundantly clear that here, on his private island, she was now playing in his territory, by his rules. No longer was she the one calling the shots.
Oddly enough, equal mixtures of excitement and apprehension trickled through her and elicited a shiver from deep within. What the hell was going on with her?
"I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about."
"I’m worried about a lot of things," she countered, shading the hot, morning sun from her eyes while trying to hide her reactions from him.
The muscles along his jaw flexed. "And that is why you’re here, Ms. Andrews." Everything in the slow, calculated way he spoke did the most peculiar things to her libido.
Tension grew in her body and her thoughts raced to catch up. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Silence hung for a long time, her flesh growing hotter with each passing second, although she suspected it had little to do with the blinding rays beating down on her. "It’s time to stop worrying and let someone take a few decisions out of your hands."
"Someone? Let me guess, that someone would be you?" she shot back.
Anticipation moved over his eyes when he answered with, "Of course."
She swallowed. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"You’ll see," he said, the slow, promisi
ng way he drew out those two little words hinting at something wickedly intimate.
She sucked in a breath. "And what you’re going to see is the inside of a prison, because this––" she paused to wave her arm around the isolated island "––this is kidnapping."
"Kidnapping?" He rocked on his feet like he was mulling that over. "I suppose if that’s how you want to look at it, then yes, it’s kidnapping." He held his hand out. "Now shall we?"
She jerked away from him. "Now, we shall not. You can take me back home right now." Folding her arms, she rooted her feet, refusing to budge.
The corner of his mouth twitched––twitched, like he was laughing at her. "Don’t worry, Rebecca. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do."
Oh God, the rich, sensual way he said her name, the leisurely way it rolled off the tip of his tongue with such heat and hunger filled her with need and excited her in ways that didn’t make sense, considering he’d just kidnapped her and planned to do God knows what to her.
I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.
His amusement vanished. "Now why don’t you come inside, and have something cool to drink. You’re flushed."
"It’s hot."
He arched a brow, skepticism flashing in his black eyes. "Perhaps," he said.
Just then Rebecca spotted a middle-aged man coming their way, and her pulse leapt with hope. Maybe she could plead her case, tell him she was being held against her will, and he could call for help, get her off this isolated island. But when she glanced back at Quinn he had a knowing looking on his face.
"There are three loyal members of my staff here, and they answer to me only." He waved a hand. "That is Michael, and he’s here to attend to your needs during your visit."
"What I need is to get out of here," she said flatly.
Ignoring her he continued, "You’ll also meet Ester, my cook, and Mario, the grounds keeper."
Michael nodded his head and greeted them both, then proceeded to grab their luggage from the plane. "Right this way, ma’am," he said, gesturing toward the foliage lined path leading up to the grand estate.
Deciding to follow, and hoping there was a landline inside the house, she pushed past Mr. Montgomery and stayed close to Michael as he led the way. Once inside the opulent, airy home, the cool air conditioning refreshing against her hot skin, she searched for a phone.
As she panned the living space, she took in the huge floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back of the house, and the magnificent view of the ocean below. Michael disappeared up the wide staircase with their luggage in tow, and Rebecca stepped forward, needing to put a measure of distance between her and the man whose mere presence had the ability to warm her blood quicker than a double vodka martini.
She examined the expensive sculptures and artwork lining the walls, making note of the dark, creamy leather furniture and polished marble floors. Even though his summer home was grand and lavish, there was still something inviting and homey about it.
She felt him step up behind her, the warmth of his body weakening her knees as he placed his hands on her hips. "You can roam at your leisure, Rebecca," he murmured into her ear, causing the fine hairs along her neck to bristle. "The truth is, I’m not going to keep you captive."
She turned to see him, but wished she hadn’t. Sexual tension arced between them, the air around them charging. She fought to recover her voice and asked, "So I can leave?"
"If you want to get off, you can get off." His voice dipped lower, became much deeper when he added, "But that will require you to stay."
As she caught the sexy, double entendre, her mouth opened and closed, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.
His smile turned predatory. "But you need to know that staying means following my orders."
She swallowed hard. "Look, I know what this is about. You’re upset with the outcome of your trial and you brought me here for revenge."
"That’s not what I’m after," he said.
"Then what exactly is it that you want from me?" She braced herself for the answer because every instinct she possessed told her revenge was exactly what he was after, and he planned to make her pay for his losses…but payment wouldn’t come in the form of cash. No, it would come in another form all together.
The muscles along his jaw flexed and his black eyes shimmered when he said, "Total and utter submission."
Oh, God, the price was higher than she’d ever anticipated.
Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, and while there were so many things she wanted to counter with, all she could do was croak out a heated moan.
"If you decide to stay, all decisions will be taken away from you." He waved a hand. "Here you don’t get to ask questions or decide on anything."
Her limbs grew weak, and an unexpected lick of heat prowled through her body, settling itself deep between her legs.
"Michael will be back in a moment to collect you. You will follow him to your room, and put on only the clothes I picked out for you. Nothing more, nothing less. Then you will join me for brunch on the terrace. It’s a beautiful day to eat outside, don’t you think?"
Rebecca just stood there staring, her mind still processing. He wanted her to put on clothes that he picked out for her? Then meet him for brunch? Was he kidding?
Indignant, and unable to believe what he was suggesting, she drew in a quick breath to refuel her addled brain and said, "If you think I’m going to wear clothes—"
"It’s not a suggestion."
As blood drained to her toes, she forced her chin up. "I thought you said you’d never make me do anything I didn’t want to."
"That’s correct."
"Then I don’t want to wear clothes you picked out for me." She gestured to the professional pantsuit draping her body. "I have my own clothes."
He stepped closer and her heart leapt as his heat and scent overwhelmed her. "I’m a patient man, Rebecca. But we only have the weekend. And it’d be wise not to push my patience too far."
"I am not—"
"Disobedience comes with a price."
Her heart hammered. "A price?"
"I’ll be forced to punish you until I have your compliance. Understand?"
"Punish…me?" she asked, a shiver moving through her, but much to her surprise it was a shiver from anticipation, not fear. She planted her hands on her hips, struggling to hold her ground. "Just how do you plan on punishing me?"
For a brief second she thought she saw the corner of his mouth curl up in a grin, but his steely control was back in place when he said, "By taking my hand to your bare ass."
"Oh, God," she squeaked out, a rush of sexual energy hitting her hard. She gulped air, and before she could get her head on straight, the vision of her draped over his lap, her ass up in the air as he spanked her, had her body quivering, almost violently.
Mr. Montgomery looked past her shoulder, and gestured with a nod. She turned to see Michael waiting for her.
"Right this way, ma’am," he said and even though she didn’t want to follow him, she needed reprieve from Mr. Montgomery and the raw, sexual energy he emitted—not to mention the way it took her from a professional woman to a wanton hussy in seconds flat.
Hoping her legs didn’t fail her, she made her way to her room. She took in the huge bed with its cushiony, plush bedding and pillows, then turned to see the walkout deck with its magnificent view of the ocean. On her right she spotted a private bathroom, but unfortunately her suitcase was nowhere to be found.
She turned to Michael, who pressed his hands together and said, "Please, make yourself at home. If you require anything, anything at all, press the intercom and I’ll see to your needs."
"What I need are my belongings." she said.
"Mr. Montgomery will supply you with all you need during your stay." He gestured toward the bed, then disappeared into the hall, closing the door behind himself. Rebecca spun around and spotted a phone on the bedside table. So she wasn’t a prisoner after all,
and really could get off if she wanted to.
Her heart jumped and she hurried to it, but then another thought had her steps slowing. Getting off would require staying…
A low tortured moan caught in her throat and she stopped at the edge of the bed. That’s when she noticed the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen splashed across her bedspread. Colored with vibrant streaks of blue and green, ocean hues that would accentuate her dark hair and blue eyes perfectly, she couldn’t help but reach for it.
She touched the silky material and brought it to her face. God, it felt like butter on her skin. She shivered as she checked the tag, only to discover it was her size exactly. How? When? She held it up against her body and looked for a mirror, but then realized what she was doing. She dropped the silk back on to the bed, shook her head to get it on straight, and reached for the phone. She was not, under any circumstances, going to put on that damn dress—no matter how rich and luxurious it was—and meet that overbearing man for brunch. Nor was she going to spend one more second thinking about total and utter submission, the punishment that came with disobedience or what his large palm would feel like on her bare ass.
She didn’t think…
* * *
Sunshine glistened on the Atlantic waves and a refreshing breeze washed over Quinn’s body as he restlessly paced back and forth on the outside patio overlooking the ocean. Dressed for brunch in a collared shirt, and beige khaki shorts, he glanced at the beautifully set table for two, the salads and smoked salmon that Ester had prepared earlier now wilting in the late morning heat. He shook his head. Rebecca would most definitely be punished for her tardiness. He glanced at his watch for the hundredth time, and while he knew she would come, he wondered what was taking her so long.
He’d purposely put her in a room with a phone, knowing if she wanted off this island all she’d have to do was pick up the receiver and make a call. But every instinct he possessed told him she wouldn’t, and his instincts had never let him down before, in his business world or in his private one.