by Linnea May
He smirks at me, taking a step back and tossing the ugly linen bag aside. It lands a few feet away from us, a stark contrast to the clean, bright marble floor beneath our feet.
“What… what are you doing here?” I stammer, as a smile spreads across my face. “What is this? Did you change fields?”
The sinister chuckle with which he responds would have frightened me just a few moments before. But not anymore, not now that I know it’s him.
Cain would never hurt me for real. If anything, this is just one of his twisted games. A game that he took a little too far, if you ask me.
“So you do remember me?” he asks now, his dark blue gaze locking me in place.
His handsomeness is still unsettling, just like it was back then. After all, there’s a reason why I fell for him, why I became such an idiot.
It was reckless. It was stupid. And it was one of the best things I’ve ever experienced.
I can’t help the smile illuminating my face as I recall those days. The way my heart accelerated out of control as soon as I stepped inside the office, the way he looked at me through those glass doors with the same ominous flicker in his eyes that I see now.
“Of course, I remember you!”
I step forward, following the instinct to embrace him, just like one would embrace an old friend after seeing him again after a long time apart. But I can’t wrap my arms around him. I can’t move my arms at all. It is now that I’m suddenly and painfully aware that my hands are still tied behind my back.
He removed the bag from my head, but he did not free my hands.
Cain seems to notice the distress that overcomes me. He raises an eyebrow at me. The intent of his expression appears to be sinister instead of one planning to offer help.
“Would you… Cain, would you please tell me what is going on? Why are my hands still tied? I can’t do anything like this. Is this part of the interview? I mean, I am a really good hacker, but even I can’t get myself out of this.”
He snorts and shakes his head, a condescending smile accenting his features.
“The interview is done.”
I gasp in surprise. “Oh! Did I… not get the job? Does that mean you’re just sending me home now?”
“There is no job, Riley,” he says, and the tone of his voice sends a cold shiver cascading down my spine. “And you’re not going home tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever.”
Chapter 6
Cain
Riley stares up at me, her pretty eyes widening and her pouty lips forming a perfect little O as she processes my words.
And then she starts laughing.
I expected several things to happen. I anticipated her crying, maybe screaming for help, possibly even trying to tear apart the ropes binding her wrists.
But no, little Miss Riley laughs at me!
I’m too taken aback by her reaction to come up with a response before she makes it even worse by blurting out, “Oh, that’s a good one! You almost had me there!”
Her entire body churns under heavy tremors of amusement as she tries to regain her composure.
“I’ll admit, I was scared there for a minute,” she says, smiling at me. “Back then, you promised me you’d have more in store for me, but I honestly never expected you to go to such lengths to make this happen! How did you even find me?”
She’s not getting it. She thinks I’m joking.
She thinks this is a game—just like it was the last time.
This is not how I thought this would play out, but maybe it’s for the better? If she thinks it’s a game, she’ll be more eager to play along. She’ll get another taste of what I can do to her. She’ll remember her growing addiction.
She will be such much easier to handle.
As insulting as it may be, I should see this as an opportunity.
“Asking a lot of questions again, aren’t you?”
I step closer, reaching up to trace my index finger down her cute face while she casts a dreamy smile up at me.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes, mischief already playing on her expression, and she winks at me. “You know I can’t help it.”
She’s so fucking delicious. So alluring, so aware of herself, and yet so fucking naive.
A gasp escapes her lips as I reach to the back of her scalp, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head back harshly. Excitement flares up in her grey-green eyes and the smile that vanished for a split second as I made my move comes back with a vengeance, now taunting me to go further, to take her like she needs to be taken.
“How long has it been?” I ask her, moving my face so close to hers that I can sense the heat of her breath on my skin when she speaks.
“About six months,” she responds in a low voice. “A little longer?”
Yearning laces every syllable of her words, and it echoes deep inside my core.
“Have you missed me?”
She wants to nod, but can’t because I’m holding her in a tight grip.
“Yes.”
There’s everything in that single word.
The need. The longing. The unbreakable desire we share. That goddamn pull neither one of us could resist back then.
I knew it was still like that for me. I knew I needed her back, and I knew I would get her back, no matter how long it took.
But there are no words to describe how gratifying it is to see that same attraction still flickering in her gaze. Her lips part, trembling with greedy passion as her eyes urge me to go on, to kiss her, to take her.
It’s impossible to resist.
My lips clash against hers with such violence that she almost tumbles backward, only held in place by my arm wrapped around her slim waist. She mewls when her tongue finds mine and we melt into one, both taking from each other ruthlessly. I bite her lower lip, sucking on it until she moans in pain—and when I retreat, she tries to do the same to me.
Naughty little Miss Riley.
She’s always been like that, cheeky and just as demanding as I was. But unlike me, her pleasure doesn’t stem from taking with a domineering hand. She likes to give and please, she likes to be subdued—but she never gives in without a fight. She’s a tough one, hard to break and even harder to keep.
It only makes her more irresistible to me.
I break our kiss, holding her in a tight grip while she remains completely at my mercy, her head tilted, her back hollowed, and her hands struggling against the ties behind her back.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” she breathes out, and those are the exact same words that are going through my head.
Good, very good.
I let go of her hair and reach behind her back, unfastening the ties around her wrists as quickly as possible before I tug the suit jacket off her shoulders. I need her. I need to see her naked body quivering with desire for me.
She jumps back in surprise after I open the first button of her blouse then rip it down the seam, the remaining buttons flying across the floor. The motion reveals her lacy bra underneath.
“What are you d—”
“Shut up!”
Her eyes widen when my hand snakes around her left wrist and I pull her close until she slams against my hard chest. I lock her in with another kiss, our lips never parting while I tear the remaining shreds of the blouse completely away from her trembling body. She lets it happen, her arms idly floating next to me as she seems uncertain what to do.
“Get rid of those pants! Now!”
She gapes up at me in disbelief. “Here? But—”
“As if that’s ever bothered you before.” I grab her wrists and move them down to her core. “You think I don’t remember what a little slut you are, Riley? You don’t think I remember every little thing that happened back then?”
She blushes and her eyes remain latched onto mine as she fumbles with the zipper of her pants, her body eager to obey while her mind can’t stop its futile protest.
My face stays close to hers, our lips almost touching, as I continue to revive her memory
.
“You think I’ll ever forget your cute little ass bent over the desk of your boss, your cheeks blossoming in all shades of red while I gave you the spanking you begged for?”
She moves faster, yanking down her pants, her breath accelerating and heat rising to her cheeks.
“You think I’ll ever forget how beautifully you came for me, Riley?” I am reveling in her response. “How you exploded on my cock, right there on that desk, with all of them watching?”
“I didn’t know they were—”
“So? Would it have stopped you?”
She chews at her lower lip, closing her eyes in shame as she hopes to evade giving an answer to that question.
“Would it?” I press, yanking her head back by grabbing her hair again.
“No!” she blurts out.
“Good girl,” I praise her, loosening my grip on her before I retreat. “Step out of those pants and take off your bra.”
She doesn’t hesitate to comply with my order, staggering as she steps out of her suit pants before she reaches behind her back to unhook the bra. Her heated cheeks are glowing in a pretty, dark red shade, and when she removes her bra, she regards me with a coy look through fluttering eyelashes. So adorable—and so fake.
“Come here,” I command, beckoning her to come closer with my index finger.
She complies, leaving the bra behind on the floor. She is now wearing nothing but a white g-string, the lace matching the bra she had been wearing.
“What a cute set,” I comment as she comes to a halt in front of me, and I hook my finger under the hem of her g-string. “Do you always dress like this for a job interview, Riley? Did you expect to model for me like this today?”
The color on her face darkens, and she shakes her head viciously. “No! Of course not!”
“You just keep telling yourself that.”
She wants to object, but is silenced by the swift motion with which I rip the lace from around her waist. An expression of shock emerges on her face when she looks up at me now, as the torn fabric floats to the floor.
“Stop the act,” I warn her, my voice a savage hiss. “I know you like this.”
A faint crease appears between her brows and she presses her lips into a thin line. She knows what’s about to happen because she knows me—yet she acts surprised when my hand moves between her legs and I wrap my other arm around her, pressing her dainty body against mine.
“Spread!”
She mewls in protest, squirming in my forced embrace and trying to fight off my intrusion.
“Spread! Now, Riley!”
I underline my words with a pinch at her inner thighs, and her legs part in an instant.
I know why she was trying to defend herself against my assault. It’s not because she doesn’t want to be touched by me, it’s because of the way her body betrays her. As outraged as she may be—as much as her mind keeps objecting to what is happening—her body is always ready to speak the truth.
A deep moan escapes her when I part her lips with two fingers and let a third one slide in between. She’s soaking wet, just as I expected.
I let out a sinister chuckle and try to catch her gaze, but she evades me, her eyes closed in shame and turned away from me.
“Look at me, Riley.”
She hesitates, but just for a second, before she slowly turns to me, her lashes batting like nervous butterflies when she looks at me. She doesn’t reciprocate my smile, but casts me a furious look instead.
“You don’t like this?” I probe, toying with her wet core while her body convulses in my embrace. “You want me to stop?”
Panic flashes across her face. “No. Please, don’t...”
“Then what do you say?”
Her lips start quivering, pressed against each other as if she’s trying to stop herself from giving the correct response, even though she very well knows what I want to hear.
“Thank you,” she finally produces feebly under heavy breaths. “Thank you, sir.”
“Good girl.”
I plant a kiss on her forehead and lift her up, the rope that’s still tied around one of her wrists dangling between us as I carry her over to the other side of my desk, where I gently lower her down into the massive leather chair.
She curls up inside it, pulling her legs close to her body, her arms wrapped around them as she tries to shield herself from my eyes. It’s cute, but nothing more than a demure show from a girl who’s afraid of giving in to her own desires.
“Spread,” I repeat my command.
She looks up at me with questioning eyes.
“Spread your legs for me, Riley,” I elaborate. “I’m not going to ask again.”
She needs a moment to come to terms with my demand, but once she does, she responds to it in such a delightful manner that my cock twitches with need for her. Allure is spicing every single motion as she cautiously spreads her thighs apart for me, even lifting her knees and placing the soles of her feet on the seat.
I almost burst with pride at the sight of it. She’s so fucking perfect, so responsive and compliant.
And most of all… she remembers.
Chapter 7
Riley
I can’t believe he’s doing this. I can’t believe he went to all these lengths to see me again—and to fulfill another fantasy for me.
He’s the only man who ever gave me what I craved. And he was the one who made me understand my needs in the first place. That’s why it’s impossible to resist him.
Well, that and his unparalleled handsome looks. And his presence. His aura of power and wealth.
I cursed myself back then for being susceptible to something so mundane and superficial, but I’ve come to terms with that demented attraction. I’m only tormenting myself by fighting it, no matter how superficial it may be to like a man in an expensive, custom-tailored suit with a watch on his wrist that probably costs more than my monthly rent.
But it’s so pleasing to go along with it, to follow his domineering voice and his strong hand directing me to wherever he wants me.
The smile on his face widens when I put my feet up on the chair, exposing my naked core to him, and my nerves run wild with excitement. This is how he told me to sit back then, exactly like this.
And then he tied me to the chair.
And then...
“Very good girl,” he praises me, and my heart jumps with unbridled joy.
It only gets better when he reaches for the end of the rope that has been used to tie my hands together. It’s still closed around my wrist, and when he brings it around the backrest of the chair, my arm follows the familiar motion.
I spent months trying to forget him. I left the city where I met him and I vowed I’d never contact him, even though that was my first instinct after I got fired from my job. It would have been easy to run to him and ask for his help. It would have been easy to hide in his arms and blame the world for being so mean to me.
But I’ve never been one to choose the easy route. That’s not how I was raised, and that’s not what made me who I am.
Maybe that’s why I did it. Maybe that’s why I ran in the opposite direction. Instead of losing myself in him, I was determined to find myself outside of anything I had built in that town, thousands of miles from my home.
I blocked out everything from that life, including him. But the wall I built was a brittle one, and it crumbled the moment I saw his face in front of me. Or maybe even before that. Maybe it started to fall apart the moment I heard his voice. I only had written interactions with “Mr. Stanford” before I agreed to the unusual job interview. The Skype call was the first time I heard his voice.
But I didn’t make the connection. Or maybe I didn’t dare?
He brings the rope to the other side of me, reaching for my other wrist and moving it behind the backrest to connect with the other. His touch is gentle and caring, very different from the way he handled me before. But it’s no less enticing. If anything, it only worsens my predicament.
I’m anxious for what comes next. Will it be like last time?
Heat spreads through my entire body at the thought of it. As much as I’ve tried to push them aside, the memories come flooding back to me.
Me, completely naked, tied to an office chair—my boss’s chair to be precise—that was twice the size of the one I’d sat in every day, my hands bound behind the backrest and my feet poised on the soft leather.
Him, standing in front of me, teasing me, whipping my clit with a tiny leather whip, the strings bringing a delectable blend of agony and pleasure to my center.
And then he stepped forward, throwing the whip aside and towering over me while he inspected the impact of his treatment on my poor clit. The pain wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be, but it was bad enough to make me cry out in anguish. However, as soon as he stopped, it turned into a hot throbbing that felt like nothing I had ever felt before. It was dazzling, mind-numbing, and so wonderful that I would have sworn that I was under the influence of drugs because it felt like a drunken high.
Will it be the same today? I’m quivering at the thought of it, and when he knots the rope behind the backrest, effectively binding me to the chair, my pulse is speeding with such a rush of anticipation that it is dizzying in itself.
He steps back in front of me, tall and mighty just like he was back then, watching me as I squirm under heavy breaths, my eyes seeking his as I search for the answer to my most pressing question.
What are you going to do to me?
“I should have fucked you the last time I had you like this, don’t you think?”
His dark, ominous voice slurs the words like a threat.
My response is feeble in comparison, a word that is breathed more than spoken. “Yes.”
“You think you deserve my cock, little Miss Riley?”
Oh my God, he is making me beg again.
He did that the last time, too. He teased me, lured me closer, until I was practically on my knees, pleading for him to fuck me. I remember the humiliation all too well, and I’m not sure if I’m up for it today.
