by Linnea May
I lean forward, letting go of the blanket that keeps me shielded from the cold and his eyes. It falls into my lap, exposing my upper body to the cold of this room and the warmth of his touch. The chilly temperature tickles my skin for just a second before it is replaced by the warming touch of his masculine hands.
He lifts me up and pulls me closer, making me sit on his lap. Our lips never part as I straddle him and my arms rake around his neck. I nestle into him until my naked upper body is pressed against his muscular chest. The soft fabric of his cashmere sweater caresses my skin, and my heart beats wildly at the warmth his sculpted body emits.
“Lose this,” I breathe, and my hands travel down to his waist.
My fingers are already hooked beneath the hem of his sweater when he grabs my wrists and stops me mid-motion.
His hold is strong and unyielding, a subtle threat oscillating in his every move when he pushes my hands away from him.
“Remember your place,” he seethes.
The delicious menace that laces his words makes my heart beat faster, and a soft gasp escapes my lips when he forces my hands behind my back. He holds them in place with one hand while reaching for the picnic basket with the other. I turn on his lap as my curious eyes follow the course of his movement and he rummages through the basket. Next to the small bottle of wine, I see grapes and different kinds of cheeses arranged on a tiny platter wrapped in plastic, and a piece of baguette bread that looks freshly baked. My mouth waters at the sight of it as my stomach rumbles, my body reminding me that I have not eaten since my kidnapping.
But Cain doesn’t go for the food or the wine. Instead, he fiddles with a black silk ribbon that is knotted around the handle of the basket. He opens the knot surprisingly fast and brings the ribbon behind my back.
Our eyes lock, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he drapes the ribbon around both my wrists.
“This better stay on,” he warns me in a hot whisper. “Otherwise you’re in bad trouble, little Riley. Do you understand?”
My breath hikes at his ominous promise and I hurry to nod.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
The words create a fluttering deep within my chest, and despite the threat, my hands move ever so slightly, gently pulling at the knot he closed around my wrists. It’s not very tight and could easily be torn apart—that’s the danger in it. He tied my hands together, but the will to surrender myself to him has to come from me.
He brings his hands back to the front of my body, slowly caressing along my upper thighs while he assesses his work. I’m sitting on his lap, the soft silk keeping my hands in place behind my back, my naked breasts exposed to his hungry gaze.
He regards me with a wicked smile before he pulls his sweater over his head. And despite my best efforts, I can’t suppress a gasp when he reveals his chiseled physique. I still remember the first time I saw him like this, the first time my jaw dropped in front of this man—and he still has that effect on me. His body is like a piece of art, the kind that catches your eye and makes it impossible to turn away, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth water with desire. The kind that brings a hot blush to my cheeks and a craving deep down in my core that awakens with a furious roar and the need to be heard.
The alluring draw is only intensified by the fact that he won’t let me touch him. My arms are twitching and I feel a thin layer of sweat forming on the tips of my fingers as I nervously fiddle with them behind my back.
“And I was worried you had forgotten how to be my good little slut,” he whispers, bringing his face close to mine. “But look at you now, so eager, so ready to please me.”
His words dance through my core like firecrackers, bringing heat and excitement to every fiber of my being.
I sway into him, hollowing my back just a tad more and pushing my upper body forward in hopes of meeting his skin with mine. But he withdraws just as my breasts kiss the steely muscles of his chest, bringing his hands up to my shoulders to push me back.
“You are such a greedy little thing, Riley,” he reprimands.
His gaze wanders lower, pausing on my protruding breasts. The smirk on his face turns evil as his hands follow the same path, grazing along my collarbones before he cups my breasts with both hands. I lean into his touch, shifting on his lap as I try to accommodate my yearning for him while still following the rules he set. He is in command—he always was with me, and I’m at his mercy, a big smile on my face.
I shouldn’t be smiling. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. But I do, and this is exactly what I need right now.
Pain cuts through my body like a hot, searing dagger when he takes both my nipples between his fingers and twists them. The initial pinch is so intense that I almost forget about the weak tie around my wrists, testing the loose knot to its limits as my arms move instinctively to protect myself from his infliction. His touch softens just enough for me to breathe through the pain that slowly ebbs into a throbbing afterthought.
“Please, please…”
“Please what little girl?”
“Please let go?”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
He squeezes again, holding my buds in a tight grip as he slowly pulls me closer. I’m mewling, trying to hold my stance with my arms behind my back as I fight the urge to push his hands away. And just a moment later, I find myself wishing for the opposite when he lets go of me voluntarily. He frees my hardened nipples and moves his hands down to my waist. I squeal in surprise as he lifts me from his lap and throws me onto the sheets next to him. I land on my back with my hands still secured beneath me.
“Spread for me,” he commands while jumping up from the bed. My heart flutters when I see him reach for his zipper.
“Now!” he urges, and the expression on his face turns dark.
“Y-y-yes, sir,” I utter in response. I am filled with shameful heat that blends beautifully with the warmth still pulsating through my tortured buds. I don’t like pain per se, but I like what it does to me. I like the crests of comfort that mix with the receding adrenaline pumping through my body in response to his violent assault.
“Are you wet for me?” He is towering over me as I lay in front of him, naked, tied and with my legs spread apart for his pleasure.
I bite my lower lip as I contemplate my response. How much trouble do I want to be in? Do I want to be a good girl for him and be rewarded in return—or do I want to play?
Under normal circumstances, I would probably go for the latter and respond with a sassy remark just to tease him. But I have had enough of that lately—enough trouble, enough pain, and enough hardship. Right now, all I want is the sweet kiss of bliss.
“I am,” I whisper, throwing him a demure look. “I am wet for you, sir.”
“Good, because I’m in no mood to wait.”
A sinister flicker in his eyes tells me that he shares my impatience—and so does the fact that he’s already rock hard when he pulls down his pants. My eyes immediately wander to the steely length at his middle, strutting at me as if to guide the way, the thick tip glistening with precum.
He moves closer, lifting me up by my hips once again to make room for himself between my legs.
“You know the rules,” he says, teasing me by sliding the head of his cock between my wet folds.
“Mhm,” I murmur, drunken with lust as I fight to stay in place and obey his demands.
“Tell me,” he breathes. “What’s the first rule?”
Oh my God, I can’t believe he’s doing this to me.
I close my eyes for a moment to stop myself from rolling them at him. I don’t want trouble, I don’t want to anger him—all I want is for him to fuck me.
“No… no coming without permission.”
He nods. “Good girl. What else?”
My heart races anxiously. Fuck, what is he referring to? The ribbon?
“Hands behind my back,” I hurry to say. “And the tie must stay bound.”
>
There’s another moment of panic when I look up at him and see his eyes narrowing as he looks down on me, desire so clearly written all across his face that I almost admire him for his restraint. Almost.
“Good girl,” he finally produces—before he leans forward and drives his entire length inside me.
I yell out with sheer delight, arching my back as I welcome him inside me. He’s so long and thick, stretching my channel roughly as my entire body curls around him.
And he doesn’t pause there, waiting for me to get accustomed to his massive size. Instead, he begins fucking me with carnal fervor, holding me in place with his hands buried in the flesh around my hips as he pistons at a ferocious rhythm inside me. I rock under his heavy inflictions, taking every thrust with a smile dancing on my lips.
This is what I wanted. This is what I needed.
He takes me like he owns me, like he has no intention of ever letting me go. His thrusts come with such fierceness that they almost seem desperate. Desperate to stop time, to pretend things were different than they are. I’m his prisoner and a tool for his plan of revenge, and that makes me valuable to him. But when he looks at me now, I want to believe that I’m even more than that, that he actually cares for me, that he wants to be with me…
He comes closer, his hot body hovering closely over mine as our lips meet for a kiss that’s almost innocent. It’s little more than a peck, cautious but full of yearning. His eyes are half-closed when they meet mine, his expression fogged with passion and tiny droplets of sweat pearling at his temples.
He is so unbelievably handsome.
“Cain.”
I breathe his name like a prayer, a plea for forgiveness, though I’m not the sinner among the two of us. I’m not innocent, either. I begged for him to take me. I spread myself in front of him like a bitch in heat, so hungry for his body that I gave myself to him, demure and compliant just like he wants me—because I knew the reward would be worth it.
“Come,” he breathes in between pushes, slowing down a little as he continues to bury himself deep inside me. “Come on my cock, Riley.”
I reply with a deep moan, shifting beneath his strong presence to be even closer to him. His pelvis meets my sensitive core with every shove, and when he pauses for just a moment, his rugged length stretching me to the brim as he moves in slow circles, I can feel the first gentle waves of my climax approaching. My orgasm is just as violent as his thrusts, my muscles spasming out of control and with such unyielding strength that I take him with me just a few seconds later. He groans as he comes deep inside me, with long, brute pushes that follow the same rhythm as my crests of pleasure. My eyes fly open in shock as my body wins over my mind, obeying a simple command coming from the man who ruined so much for me—yet, in moments like these, he gives me more than I ever asked for.
Chapter 22
Cain
“How is the little princess?” Jack asks as he marches into the room.
I get up from behind my desk, grabbing the glass carafe that’s filled with water and walk over to the Monstera plant. The plant and I drink from the same source and even though I know better, I often find myself checking the plant’s status when I’m not sure how I feel myself. If the leaves are hanging low or even showing signs of dried up and brown tips, I take that as a sign of things being in disorder in my own life—and as a nudge to take care of it, both the plant and my life. So, every time I pour water into the big flowerpot, I feel like I am regaining control of things that have gone astray.
“She’s fine,” I growl in response without looking at Jack, who planted himself in one of the chairs opposite my wooden desk. My eyes are glued to the water trickling along the strong stem of the plant as I water it. It didn’t look thirsty today, but I felt the need to do this, to take care of things.
“You’re banging her, aren’t you?” Jack snarls from the other side of the desk.
“None of your business.”
“Oh, come on!” he complains. “Not fair, man. Why do you get to screw her and we don’t?”
I turn around and walk back to my desk in slow but deliberate steps. Jack is watching my every move, waiting for a response. He’s lucky I’m not punching his face in right now because God knows I’d love to. If I didn’t need him for this operation, I would have kicked him out after that unwarranted attack against Riley.
“Didn’t you get enough when you groped her?” I inquire, pinning him down with an angry stare as I take my seat opposite him. “Or when you assaulted her alone in her room?”
“Assaulted?!” he repeats, adding an indignant huff. “You should have seen her! Fucking bitch called me a loser! She provoked me!”
I can’t stop myself from laughing at his outrage. I didn’t have to be there to know how Riley held herself up in front of him. She’s a fighter, and she is smart. I’m sure she provoked Jack because she was sure he wouldn’t touch her—because she suspected that he wasn’t allowed to do so.
And he isn’t. No one is. The thought of another man’s hands on her makes my stomach turn.
“So what?” I retort. “You know your job, Jack. You scare her, you intimidate her, you make her understand the gravity of her situation—but you never touch her!”
Jack groans while throwing his head back and another exasperated gasp leaves his lips.
“I never fucking touched her,” he insists. “Well, okay, barely! I wasn’t gonna do anything—”
“That’s right, you weren’t and you won’t,” I say. “She’s off limits.”
I’m raising a finger at him, as if I’m scolding a child, but I’m painfully aware of the fact that I can’t blame him for what happened. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t barged into the room back then, but it doesn’t really matter, because that was never part of the scenario.
Because, technically, Jack didn’t do anything he wasn’t supposed to do that day. He was supposed to intimidate her, to make her feel small and scared, and the scene was always meant to be interrupted by me storming in to save her.
It was all part of the plan, a simple good cop-bad cop routine.
There’s just one thing I didn’t factor in when I came up with that plan: the way I would feel upon seeing Riley being subjected to a man like Jack. It was one thing to terrify the shit out of her by humiliating her as the guys dragged her down to her room, naked and covered in my cum. I looked away then and I silenced the voices inside my head screaming profanities that were born out of jealousy.
I ignored it then and I should ignore it now.
But I can’t.
I can’t forget the way she writhed beneath me. The way her eyes were partly closed but latched onto mine when she breathed my name. The way she looked at me when she vowed to help me.
Fuck, even the way she cast that cunning smile at me when she bargained for money.
I underestimated the effect she would have on me because I started to forget. It was intense then, when we met for the first time. And while I could never forget her, knowing that she could be the missing piece to a plan that I’ve been working on for years, certain memories started to fade as time moved on.
All I could think of was how perfect she was for this job. And how useful she could be for me in the future. In my mind, her worth was mostly based on the fact that she was a beautiful, brilliant and somewhat cunning programmer. Perfect conditions for what I had in mind for her.
But now…
“By the way, the air is still clear outside,” Jack informs me all of a sudden.
I regard him with a probing gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it doesn’t look like a big search is under way yet,” he clarifies. “I mean, it’s been five days. Her sister must have noticed. We have a close eye on her and that husband of hers, but I’m not even sure they went to the police yet.”
“You’re not sure?”
Jack shrugs. “As far as I know, they didn’t. Sister doesn’t seem overly concerned. Could be she simply doesn�
��t know yet. Maybe they’re not as close as you thought they were?”
I shake my head, unsure what to think. As far as I know, Riley’s older sister, Alena, is her only living relative, and the one who raised her after their parents’ deaths. We never talked much about it, but from what Riley shared with me, I had the feeling that they were as close as sisters could be, despite their differences. I’m sure that Riley must have told her sister about the job interview. Wouldn’t she call to hear how it went?
“What about her phone?” I ask Jack.
He gives me a quizzical look, his eyebrows arched so high that they draw a deep furrow across his forehead.
“What do you mean?” he asks back. “We turned it off and tossed it in a river like you told us to.”
I sigh. Of course, they did.
“Why?” he probes now, leaning forward with interest. “Anything wrong?”
“No, nothing,” I hurry to reply. “I’m just surprised that her sister hasn’t done anything. I expected her to worry and go to the police on the first day.”
Jack shrugs again. “Siblings, man. Don’t think my sister cares much about my whereabouts.”
Yes, but you are a fucking thug who has disappointed and betrayed his family multiple times throughout his life.
“Keep an eye on her anyway,” I tell him. “It makes things easier for now, but I don’t trust this calm. We need to be alert in case they kick the search into high gear or something.”
Jack nods and gets up from his chair. “Anything else?”
“Not for now.”
He turns his back to me and is almost out the door when he hesitates. His hand is resting on the doorknob when he looks back at me over his shoulder.
“We’re still going according to plan, right?” he wants to know.
The short moment of silence weighs heavily between us as our eyes meet across the room. His are narrowed and laced with skepticism. Not good.
