by Vonna Harper
“She’ll go to Ethan. Beg him to use his influence to find out where I am.”
“Are you saying he can get law enforcement to do what he wants them to?”
No. At least I don’t think so. “Maybe.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“Sooner or later you have to let me go and when you do, I’ll go right to the police.”
“I’ll deal with that when the time comes.” He stared at the nearby window, his chest rising and falling in a way she couldn’t ignore and wished she understood. “Today we’re going to discuss your loyalty to Ethan.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Do you know why your mother loves him, if she does?”
“This has to be a trick question.” Her voice sounded small, insecure.
“That’s the last thing I intend.”
“I can’t see into her heart. No one knows what takes place inside someone else.”
“Is that so? What went through your mother when she saw you after the accident?”
“She was horrified. Scared I might die.”
“Were you in danger of that happening?”
“No.” Thank goodness.
“Then why did you say what you did?”
“She’s my mother,” Lainey whispered. “She has a mother’s fears.”
“Right. How much loyalty does Megara have for her husband?”
That wasn’t what he’d asked. “What does she have to do with this?” She jabbed a finger at the cage.
“Maybe nothing. All right. Time to turn this around. Do you owe Ethan anything? Would you lie for him?”
“No.” Maybe.
“Even if a lie protected your mother?”
This questioning was going around in circles. Joe Risinger had upended her life so she wasn’t sure what was right or wrong. Maybe more importantly, he’d forced her deep inside herself where her vulnerabilities lay. He was turning her world on its head. Shit, he already had.
“Answer me.”
“Go to hell.” She wished she sounded stronger.
“You have a reason for refusing to answer. Either you’re protecting her or him.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah,” he growled. “I am. So would you be if you’d gone through what I have.”
“Really? Next time I’ll leave my body splattered all over the road. That way there’s no doubt of what I endured.”
“Damn you.”
He’d barely spoken loud enough for her to catch the words but she saw his intensity in every line of his body. Leery, bordering on fear, she tried to curl into herself. Maybe he’d lost his mind.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “I can’t—you need help.”
“What I need is justice. Vengeance.”
Fighting to control her breathing, she stared at his chest. In another time and place, she’d strip off her clothes and wrap her body around him. Welcome him to her bed or beg him to take her to his. Spread her legs. Guide his hands to her breasts. Lift her hips in a silent invitation to tongue her pussy.
Confess how much she longed to be controlled and contained. Collared. Leashed. Owned.
Stop it! You’re going crazy.
Only, was it so bad?
Giving herself a hopefully private shake, she forced her thoughts back to where they had to stay if she wanted to survive. She was still in danger of losing control of her imagination, but she might make it as long as she acknowledged how much her knees hurt.
“It won’t be easy,” he said. “But I’ll win. He deserves it.”
“He?”
His eyes went dark again, maybe even darker than before. When his stare settled on her throat, she spread her hand over that part of her. Her fingers connected with her necklace.
“You’ve given yourself away,” he said.
“What—are you talking about?”
“Why you wear the damn thing.”
You know? It was supposed to be her secret.
“Fine,” she said when she trusted herself to speak. “Wonderful. It delights me to know how perceptive you are.”
“Perception isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?”
She knew he was going to touch her before he moved. Damn it, she wasn’t his plaything! His possession. More to the point, she had to do everything she could to shield herself from his insight. Otherwise, he’d know her greatest weakness.
“I’m done talking to you,” she snapped.
“The hell you are!”
Incensed and scared, she pushed herself to her feet and punched him in the chest. Like before, he barely reacted. Then, suddenly, he grabbed her wrists and wrenched her arms behind her. Despite her attempt to break free, he easily restrained her with a single hand and yanked down on her leggings. He didn’t stop until fabric roped her ankles. Her panties came next.
She twisted and turned, struggling against his greater strength. Their breathing turned ragged.
Then somehow, she was over his lap with his forearm pushing on her back and her legs flailing. She tried to scratch him, but his jeans prevented her from inflicting any damage.
“This isn’t a damn game,” he told her. “I own you.”
I know.
“I don’t care whether you love or hate Ethan, whether you feel any loyalty toward him. Right now it’s about you and me and a battle I’ll win.”
“Why?”
He paused. “Because I need my life to have meaning.”
She hurt for him. She shouldn’t, but she did.
Moment by moment she lost the will and desire to fight. She stopped trying to get off his lap. Instead she took note of how his heat bled into her. Not long ago she’d been in charge of her life, but he’d stripped that from her.
Tears leaked from under her tightly closed lids as she remembered how helpless she’d felt when paramedics loaded her into an ambulance. She’d been so scared, numb to pain, but aware it would soon take over. She hadn’t wanted to be her.
It was different today. Not only, insanely, did she long for Joe’s domination, she was more than ready to give up any and all control. He wouldn’t hurt her, not really.
Then his palm collided with her left ass cheek and she knew she’d been lying to herself.
He was hurting her. Making her flesh sting. His hand repeatedly connected with what she couldn’t defend. Whimpering, whining, she willed herself to stop fighting the uneven battle. When she surrendered, her world tunneled down until only the hard blows mattered. Her necklace became a companion to what he was subjecting her ass to, an echo. By turn she lifted and lowered her head. She didn’t want anything to do with him so why was she stroking his calves?
There’d been a rhythm the first time he’d spanked her. Not now. Nothing but pain landing, stinging sensations. A current. She heard whimpering, closed her throat around the sound, failed.
“I didn’t—damn it—I don’t deserve—what have I—damn it, stop!”
“You belong to me.” He punctuated his edict with a harsh strike that made her jerk. “Every part of you. In all ways.”
“The hell you—”
Another blow landed in the same spot, punishment being layered on. She shook and shivered, struggled to find a way out.
But there wasn’t one.
He was too strong. Too determined. Attacking her ass with his broad palm. Throwing her into a different world. One bordered by helplessness, and inexplicably, anticipation.
Tears burst from her, full grown. Impossible to stop. She didn’t think she was begging him to end what he’d started, but she was saying something, and nothing except pleas made sense.
As the pain intensified, her world lost and regained color. She had to concentrate to make sure she didn’t bite her tongue. Mostly her ass was on fire, beaten into submission by his power.
What she craved.
In her mind’s eye she saw her buttocks redden. As her arousal dribbled from between her legs, his hand continued to pummel her helpl
ess flesh, turning up the heat until it engulfed her entire body.
Stop!
No, keep going. Hit me until there’s nothing else. Make me yours.
Finally, ages after this insanity started, he pushed her sweat-soaked hair away from the back of her neck. His nail marked where collar and skin came together. Too spent to move, she lay draped over him. So this was what having a man rule her life felt like. All consuming. Her world.
“You’re shaking,” he said. “I wonder…”
No longer holding her in place, he lightly stroked her buttocks. His touch had gone from cruel to what she might call loving if she didn’t know better.
He’d claimed her. She belonged to him.
But it wasn’t all bad. How could it be when for the first time in her life she belonged to another human being? What she’d long craved had become reality.
I need you.
He returned his attention to her collar, moving it about as if it was special to him. She tried to lift her head but an inner voice whispered she could stay where she was for as long as she needed to. The painful pulsing in her ass made fully relaxing impossible so she waited for the discomfort to let up. When she caught hold of what she was experiencing enough to make a list of sorts, she acknowledged it felt as if his hand had claimed every inch of flesh. Maybe only her ass was red, but her nerves had taken the sensation everywhere. His control was total. Complete.
All consuming.
Life changing.
“The things we do,” he said. “The messages we give out without knowing. Humans are fascinating creatures. Vulnerable.”
“What are you talking about?” As raw as her throat felt, she must have been yelling or something close to it during his attack.
“About my need to focus, to remember my goal and the road to it. Refusing to be distracted.”
Whatever his goal was, she was the key to it. Angry at herself for dropping her guard, she put every bit of energy she possessed into getting off his lap. She’d nearly accomplished the herculean task when he ran a forefinger through the ring in her collar and hauled her back onto his lap. She hated the contact!
Yes, damn it, she did! Didn’t want anything to do with him.
Her breath hissing and buttocks throbbing, she ordered herself to stop fighting him. After the first one or two seconds, it became easy. Or easier. Although she didn’t trust how she’d react, she allowed her body to speak to her mind. Pain had ceased to be simple. Instead of being something she longed to escape, she now wanted to explore its complexity.
In a perfect world, he wouldn’t touch her ass again until it had recovered. He’d treat it with what, reverence? Understand how thin the line between pleasure and pain had become. He’d stroke what he’d punished, maybe drape a cool damp cloth over her. Gift her with a soft pillow to sit on, guide her into a shower with a gentle spray. She’d stand naked before him with her eyes more closed than open and her lips parted. Instrumental music would play from hidden speakers, the air flower-scented. When, finally, she’d absorbed everything the water had to offer, she’d turn it off and walk into a large white room. He’d hand her a towel so fluffy and soft she half expected it to be made from feathers. He’d gently pat her bottom until there were no more droplets, draw the towel out of her hands and encourage her to turn in slow circles so he could rub a rose-scented cream into every inch of her flesh.
She’d fall asleep or something close to that, handing her body over to him because he knew it so well.
Hours or maybe minutes later she’d ease back to consciousness. Sense his presence in ways she’d never suspected was possible.
I’m ready for you, he’d say. Whatever you need in the way of sex, I want to give it to you. We have all night—and the whole of tomorrow if that’s what you need. You’ll climax. I’ll come. Repeatedly. Both of us.
A part of her wanted to admit she fully and completely trusted him. That she had no fear, no doubt, no desire for freedom.
But only partly.
Confused, she struggled to send a message to her muscles. Eventually she’d find the strength to put distance between them.
He slid a hand between her legs. “Stay like you are,” he ordered. “Don’t let things go bad between us.”
Bad? Good? Up or down? Right or wrong. Dangerous or safe?
A masculine finger hovered at the entrance to her sex. He wasn’t asking permission or about to plunder her. This might be a game to him. Some insane test she’d either pass or fail. Teasing was a possibility.
Yes, teasing. Taunting. Pushing her buttons.
He slipped into her with her juices easing his journey. Her inner muscles tightened around the invasion. Held on.
“This is what you want.”
She wasn’t sure whether he was making a statement or asking a question. Either way she was vulnerable. Much weaker than him. Perhaps an animal for him to ridicule, to command.
It didn’t matter. Only finding release from this terrible tension did.
Once again, she commanded her muscles to relax, to stay in that fragile state until her pussy insisted on being heeded.
She’d become an animal, a furious beast determined to win this battle—and not caring if she didn’t succeed.
Over and over she clung to his finger, let go, tightened again as he went ever deeper as he plundered not just her sex, but her entire being.
It felt as if she’d been shoved into a tunnel or hole, some perpetually heated place. A space created for pleasure and pain. Something designed to teach lessons she hadn’t known existed before today.
“This isn’t so hard,” he said with his palm against her buttocks. “Not surrender, but acknowledging a new kind of freedom.”
“You call this freedom?”
He pushed even deeper, making her shudder and moan. “What label would you put on it?”
Oh god, don’t stop! “Taking—advantage.” She sucked in a breath. “Messing with me.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I can see why you’d call it that, but you won’t once—if—you understand.”
She couldn’t be sure, but he’d seemed to be trying to engage her in a conversation ever since he’d taken her. He’d start something only to stop—or she’d try to probe his mind before acknowledging how dangerous that could be.
It was safer for them to remain enemies.
Maybe.
“Don’t mess with me.” She raked his calves with so much force she risked breaking a nail.
“I don’t have a choice.”
He was doing it again, spinning her mind in circles when she didn’t have enough for anything to make sense. She couldn’t talk to him. Didn’t want to.
Wanted his cock to rest where his finger had been.
Brought to life by a mental image of her draped over his lap with his finger buried where it had no right being, she again tried to leave furrows in his skin. His jeans wouldn’t let her, damn it.
Rage warred with shame. A liberated woman would never allow a man to do this and she was liberated, wasn’t she?
“There’s no rulebook for this.” He moved his finger about, brushing and bruising. She shivered. “Just doing.”
When would this torture end? Much more stimulation and she’d come—repeatedly. Another wave threatened to tear her apart so she bucked, rising and falling on her captor’s thighs in a desperate attempt to distract herself. It didn’t matter. His finger remained inside her.
Owned her.
You’re making me crazy. Maybe making me fall in love with you.
No! What the hell was she thinking? She hated this all-powerful man, didn’t she?
“It’s time for something else,” he said before she could answer her question, if there was one. “Let’s call it taking things up a notch. Bringing you closer to what I need you to be.”
“No.” Please. “You’re scaring me.”
He didn’t reply, and in the silence, she was forced to admit how much she’d given away. He’d spanked her for reasons only
he understood, followed by keeping her ass exposed. Planted his finger deep in her. Left her with no doubt which of them was in control, not that she didn’t already know.
“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Earlier hadn’t he vowed not to hurt her? What had brought him to this level?
“Let me go.” She struggled, weakly.
“Hell no.”
She didn’t object to curses. In fact, she’d sworn more in the past few years than the rest of her life, even during her reckless teens.
She wanted them back. The freedom, innocence, and stupidity.
He redoubled his efforts, if she could call them that, by pistoning in and out, his finger claiming her. Heat and longing became a drug. She didn’t try to fight him off. Instead she let his finger speak to her pussy. To let hunger surround her.
She was Joe Risinger’s toy. His plaything.
The reason didn’t matter. Only release and relief did.
“I don’t understand,” the fool who used to believe she was in charge of her life confessed. She waited out a wave of hunger, of near starvation. “What is this about?”
“No talking. Just experiencing.” His finger plowed while he swatted the backs of her thighs with his free hand.
Thank you.
Her neck became too weak to keep her head up. Her arms and legs took the same downward journey. Tears she’d been able to hide while he was punishing her found an outlet. Surely, he felt them soaking his denim. Her buttocks twitched and shook. A fine whimper accompanied every breath. Most telling, her pussy continued its relentless attempt to caress the finger inside her. He’d probably intended what he was doing to make her climax, but his attempt at control was about to become her reward. She was fucking his forefinger, silently laughing. She’d turned the aftermath of a long, hard spanking into pleasure.
There! Need grew with every breath she took. Desire clawed up her spine. Held her tight. Promised release. Ready to cry out.
Out of breath, she lifted her head. “Damn you.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Her climax had started to roll over her when she felt pressure against her tight rim. Startled, she tried to hold back from letting go.
“No! Damn it, no.”
“I don’t believe you. This is something you love. Hell, maybe you’re a pro when it comes to back door action.”
