by Bella J
Abruptly I yanked her leg up, twisting it to the side as I stared down at the prominent scars, depicting something beautifully twisted, and perversely inviting. The hunger those scars awoke inside me burned like acid in my stomach, letting me crave the warped desires that always churned in the deepest part of my soul. It wasn’t something I was prepared for. It wasn’t a complication I anticipated when I put this entire plan together, but fuck me, it slammed against my chest, shaking my very foundation. Even though my hatred for this woman poisoned the blood running through my veins, my cock pulsed and ached with a need to extract something twisted out of her. A part of me wanted to taste her, sample her—devour her. I wanted to see her succumb to wicked desires that I knew were gnawing inside her, to let her feel what it’s really like to be completely and utterly consumed…and owned.
I looked up at her eyes burning like white fire. “You are no longer Tatum Linscott.”
Her chest was rapidly rising and falling, her breaths coming out shallow and fast, its warmth gently moving across the skin of my neck.
“Who am I?” Her voice was soft, as if she was too afraid to ask, but needed to know.
The need I saw in her eyes was too tempting, too inviting, and it was feeding the lust that festered in my groin.
I let go of her leg, reached up and tore the rag down the front, exposing her breasts. She yelped, then fought to cover herself. But I grabbed her arms in my hands, squeezing tight, pushing her forcefully against the wall. Allowing my gaze to travel down her chest staring at her full, round, naked tits, I licked my lips, the sick fucker inside my head loving the way her body shivered and trembled.
I lifted my gaze to meet hers. “You’re my little mouse now.”
9
TATUM
There was no mistaking the feral look in his eyes as he stared at me, licking his lips like he was preparing to taste something that he wanted…me.
“Take your hands off me.” I tried pushing him away, but it was no use. His grip around my elbow tightened, the look of alpha possession glowing from his face as he allowed his gaze to run down every naked part of me.
Even though my heart was about to rip through my chest, my stomach churning with panic, I swallowed my fear, determined not to show weakness. But there was something else, a need that flickered inside my core, a feeling of want that primed my body to be taken. His hot breath stroked my skin with soft wisps of sensual promises, and ignited a slow burn inside me. My nipples hardened, my thighs clenched, and my lips parted slightly with expectation. The feeling instantly shattered my mind in shards of confusion and disgust, yet every muscle in my body was clenched tight in search for release. How was it possible that I could want this man—this man who held me here against my will, who wanted to break and hurt me? Why would my body react so sinfully toward a man who had the power to ruin me with his touch, wreck me with his wickedness while he relished my demise?
No…never.
With his eyes narrowed into slits he looked up from my naked breasts and into my eyes. For a moment it felt like he saw the need I so desperately tried to suppress, the same need I saw casting a shadow over his face. It became too hard to breathe, as if the air had thickened with a sultry tension that swept through me, settling in my belly. By the way his eyes darkened, his tongue flicking over his lips, I was certain he felt it too.
Abruptly he let go of my arms like my skin burned him, cold air replacing his touch. Giving a step back he roughed his hand through his hair, glancing down at the floor, seeming confused—mortified…exactly like me.
I grabbed the torn fabric and tugged it together, covering myself. Castello started to pace up and down, his hand still clutched in his hair while he repeated the same phrase in Italian over and over again.
“Non lei, non la…Non lei, non la…non lie, non la…” Not her, never her.
What he didn’t know was that I understood every word. I spoke Italian fluently, but that would remain my secret…for now.
With confusion I watched him pace, wondering why he would repeat those words. Why not me? Why never me? It didn’t make sense. Was he experiencing the same turmoil inside as I did a few seconds ago—his body pulling him in a completely different direction than his mind? I didn’t know what the hell was going on, and by the looks of it, neither did he.
When he stopped pacing and spun toward me, I sucked in a breath. The look of need was gone, replaced with the anger that once again burned behind his dark irises, intimidating the hell out of me.
I stepped back, not knowing what his next move would be. We were surrounded by so many different emotions, it was impossible to predict which one would consume us next.
For a few seconds both of us just stood there staring at each other, waiting, expecting, anticipating. The silence was heavy, laden with tension, and something else, something so intense I felt it in every bone of my body. I was too afraid to try and place it, to determine what it was, because deep down I already knew, but there was no way I would acknowledge it. Not with him. Not with him being the devil currently ruling my Hell.
Slowly he stalked toward me, my heart beating faster with every step he took. I didn’t recognize the look in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was murder…or lust—lust that had no place between the two of us. We were enemies. He hated me, I feared him, so why did it feel like there was something stronger, something that would ultimately destroy us both?
He stopped in front of me, so close I could feel his breath coating my cheeks. All I could do was close my eyes, unable—unwilling to determine what went on in his dark mind, what he wanted from me now in this very moment, because I was too afraid I would give it to him.
His hand touched the inside of my thigh and I gasped, my stomach about to explode, my knees trembling beneath me. One simple touch of his hand, and I seemed to have lost all control over my body.
“This isn’t going to work, Tatum.” His voice was low, soft, just like the feel of his thumb slowly moving up the inside of my thigh. It was a touch that had the power to turn that flicker of need into a brightly burning flame, and to turn the confusion inside my mind into darkly shadowed hate.
His touch wasn’t cold as I had anticipated, but instead it singed my skin causing me to inhale sharply. Up and up his hand moved, and the longer his touch remained on my skin, the more rapidly I started to breathe.
What the hell is happening?
Fear ran rampant inside me, but my body somehow responded to his touch, betraying me in the worst possible way. I didn’t dare open my eyes. I didn’t want to witness how he was looking at me in fear that I might look back at him in the exact same way. I didn’t want to risk being swept away by whatever the fuck was happening since it was just too wrong, too disgusting…too twisted—exactly the way I wanted it for so long. It was the most decadent kind of torture as my mind fought his touch, yet my body embraced it.
His hand moved a little higher and stopped just below the apex of my thighs. My body screamed for him to move that extra inch, to touch me where it ached and pulsed with need, but my mind cursed him, hated him, willed him not to touch. If he did, he would feel the soaking proof of my depravity. There would be no more hiding from him, my body would divulge all the secret perverted desires I’ve been hiding for so long—something he would use against me in his sordid quest to destroy me.
But the slightest movement of his thumb, barely touching, yet sending the most powerful wave of shameless lust crashing against my core made me whimper. I hated my body, hated the way my insides coiled tight because of the way he touched me.
There was a hard jerk, the sound of fabric being torn pulling me back from wherever the fuck I was—somewhere between here and a place in Hell where I was being seduced by the devil.
I looked down and watched as he tore a piece off the already tattered rag I was wearing.
“That little bucket of water isn’t going to be enough to wash away your filth.” He grabbed my elbow and spun me around, pushing his knee between m
y thighs, forcing my legs apart. The ache between my legs intensified, twisting my stomach into knots of misplaced lust and desire. How could I like this? What kind of twisted freak am I for wanting him as fear and need ran through my veins in equal measure?
He pushed his body against my back, forcing me harder against the cold wall. And then I felt it—the length of his hard desire pressing against my back. Oh God, this was so damn wrong.
“You’re one dirty little mouse, aren’t you, Tatum?”
I couldn’t answer him. There was no way I could open my mouth since I had no guarantee what would come out of it. Currently there was a raging war between my body and my head, and with his warmth sweeping through me, feeling the evidence of his desire against my back, I was ninety-nine percent sure my body was busy winning.
“Lucky, or unlucky for you, I prefer you dirty.” He grabbed my wrists and forced them behind my back before tying my hands together with the piece of fabric he had torn from my already shredded rag.
“Which is why we’ll forgo the bath…for now.”
I glanced over my shoulder as panic surged through my heated body. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to meet the rest of my family.”
Oh God.
For the first time since I got here I didn’t want to leave the room. For the first time these four walls represented a safety I never felt before now. Out there, beyond these walls lay the unknown, and right now the unknown was my worst enemy.
I struggled against the ties, trying to free my wrists, but it was too tight. It felt like the fabric was slicing through my flesh.
“Please—”
He tore off another piece of the rag, and before I could finish my sentence he placed it over my eyes.
“Stop, please.” My voice shook, my body quivered, and everything inside me burned with the need to escape, to get away.
With a hard tug he tied the blindfold behind my head. “Shhh, little mouse.” Softly he placed his hands on my shoulders before leaning closer to my ear, pressing his hard body against mine, letting his heat sweep through my spine. “This is all part of the fun.”
“Castello, please—”
He grabbed my hair and yanked it back, the force stinging my scalp. “I told you to address me as sir, or have you forgotten?”
Soft whimpers rolled over my lips, and I was secretly thankful for the blindfold hiding the threatening tears.
“Come on, the show’s about to start.” He turned me around. “And you’re the main attraction.”
Gripping my elbow tight to a point where I was certain it would bruise, he started to drag me out of the room while I struggled against his hold.
“Where are you taking me?” I tried to push my heels into the ground to stop him from dragging me. With every bit of strength I had I tried to rip my arm from his hold, but he was too strong, twisting his grip firmer around my skin.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“Please don’t do this.”
“It’s already done.”
As he dragged me to wherever we were going, I tripped and stumbled a few times along the way, but he had no mercy, no compassion. Every time I fell over my own two feet, he just jerked me up without slowing down. My strength had left me, once again leaving the weak, crying Tatum to endure whatever lay ahead. Every step he forced me to take, I felt more and more like a lamb on its way to the slaughterhouse.
The hunger pangs that plagued my body earlier were now replaced with the urge to vomit, to get rid of the bile that was churning in the pit of my stomach. Fear filled the emptiness in my belly now.
Abruptly we came to a stop, and I heard voices along with a lot of gasps.
“Where am I?” I jerked my head from side to side, trying to determine where I was—with whom.
The fabric around my wrists got cut off, but before I could reach up to pull down the blindfold, someone grabbed my arms.
“Now-now, you’re not ready to see yet,” Castello whispered into my ear as my arms got lifted up, and cold, hard steel was placed around my wrists.
“Oh God, what’s happening?” I tried to struggle against whoever was holding my arms, but it was no use. The click of the cuffs being locked around my wrists sounded like fucking gunshots echoing in my ears, and my heart no longer beat with a rhythm, but rather thrashed with alarm.
“Are you ready for your fifteen minutes of fame, Tatum?” Castello’s voice was tainted with malice, and I shuddered as he started to untie the blindfold. My body went numb, my insides burning with incomprehensible fear and panic. My lungs seized to work, only allowing a few shallow breaths at a time.
And then the blindfold was off, allowing me to open my eyes.
God, I wish I didn’t open my eyes.
I stared at a room full of men dressed in tuxedos, holding glasses of champagne and tumblers of bourbon in their hands. They all looked at me, glaring at me like I was the spawn of Satan.
“Meet the family,” Castello said beside me.
“What is this?” I whispered, unable to look away from the crowd of people.
“See this as your own personal coronation day.”
Every man in the room stared at me, their gazes moving up and down my body. The torn rag did nothing to hide my breasts, which meant that I was basically hanging from the roof with cuffs around my wrists…semi-naked.
There was no stopping the tears now, the humiliation finally breaking the dam of the last shred of willpower I had left.
Castello stepped in front of me. “Two rules for tonight’s party.” He wiped a tear off my cheek with one swift, harsh move of his thumb. “You will not cry. The last thing you want is to show all these men how weak you really are. And lastly, you will not speak.”
Before I could reply, someone pulled a piece of rope over my head, forcing it between my lips before tying it behind my head. It was so tight the harsh rope cut through the corners of my mouth and all I could do was moan as the pain radiated up my cheeks.
Castello smiled, his gaze slowly moving down my body. He bit into his lower lip, lifting a hand dragging his fingertips from my collarbone, slowly down pushing the fabric away from my breast. I yanked, I jerked, I moaned, but it was no use. I couldn’t get away from his touch, which still managed to burn my skin.
His gaze lingered on my exposed breast before his fingertip started circling my nipple. I closed my eyes and whimpered, biting into the rope that was tied through my mouth.
“I can’t decide whether Carlo was a lucky man or not.” Castello’s fingers moved over the swell of my breast, down to the middle of my stomach where the tear in the rag stopped.
“How many times did he fuck you, Tatum?” He pulled down, tearing the thin fabric further, down…down, the feel of his fingertip dragging against my skin making me shiver.
“How many times did my brother make you come?” From one hip to the other he moved his hand, causing the fabric to pull back exposing both my breasts. The chills, the fear, and the ache pulsing between my legs made me bite down on the rope. I hated that between all the bad, his touch made me feel so damn good. It wasn’t right. In fact, it was so fucking wrong.
I jerked back trying to get away from his touch, and the chains above me rattled in protest. But he grabbed me around my hip and pulled me forward, lifting my leg and hooking his arm underneath my thigh. There was no use in fighting him. His grip was too strong, his hold too tight. All I could do was watch his face as he stared down at my naked thigh like a starved predator.
“Did Carlo have what it takes to satisfy your body completely? To make you come so hard your spine felt like it was being cracked wide open?”
With a single finger, he softly touched a white line that spread across my skin, the only evidence left of a craving I have fought for so long.
“You know what I think, Tatum?” His finger continued all along the scar. “I’m thinking Carlo didn’t have a clue how to fully satisfy you.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “What twisted desires pu
mp through your veins every goddamn day of your life.”
Now I was glad my mouth was tied, that I couldn’t reply…because he was right. He was so fucking right, and it pained me to admit it, even if not out loud. Every time Carlo and I made love I yearned, craved for him to be rough, to be strong…to play. But he never did. He worshipped my body softly, delicately, like a flower that would wither under the tiniest amount of pressure, when I longed for him to use my body like it was his own temple of pleasure.
Castello stepped back with a smug grin on his face, like he had read my mind, heard me admit that he was right. It’s like he had a direct line to my mind, like he knew me better than I knew myself. It scared the crap out of me to know that someone could penetrate my mind so easily.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Linscott.”
I watched as Castello turned his back on me, walking away toward the rest of the crowd, leaving me there alone, exposed, and utterly humiliated. The worst part of it…I wanted to scream after him, beg him to come back, to not leave me there alone. For some twisted, depraved fucking reason, I would rather endure his presence than the rest of the men currently staring at me with dark, malevolent eyes portraying the evil thoughts plaguing their minds.
If I thought I had the strength to fight him, to play Castello’s game…I was wrong.
10
CASTELLO
I sat at the end of the dining table, never taking my eyes off her. Bound by her wrists, kept in place by chains, and semi-naked, Tatum looked like a fucking offering…which she was. The sight of her was an offering to every man present, and judging by all the glances and profanities spewing from their mouths, they loved it.
So did I.
I’d be lying if I said seeing her that way didn’t do things to me—wicked, twisted, perverted things. All I thought about while I stared at her was how much I wanted to pinch those pink, hard nipples of hers earlier. How much I wanted to suck it until it was swollen, bite it until she moaned with pain and pleasure. I thought about how she would look hanging from the ceiling of my bedroom, suspended by ropes and chains, completely at my mercy.
