by Measha Stone
“I don’t make idle threats. Now, fucking eat.” He picked the plate up and dropped it in her lap before jerking away from her.
She forked up mashed potatoes and brought them to her mouth. Her perfectly pink, pouty mouth. He’d kissed that mouth, a symbolic gesture really—acknowledging she’d given herself to him, but he wanted to kiss it again, do other things with it in a less symbolic and more animalistic nature.
He brought a chair from the table over. Propping his feet up on the bed and crossing them at the ankle, he observed her
She took another bite of potatoes.
“Not much of a meat eater?” he asked when the potatoes were all gone and the roast beef remained.
“I’m done,” she replied and put the plate on the bed.
He eyed her quietly for several long minutes, until she readjusted her seating. She still wore the skirt, and T-shirt she’d shown up in the day before.
“Go take a shower. I’ll have some clothes brought up for you. I’m sure one of Peter’s girls will have something you can borrow until we get you more.”
“I’ll shower when you go.” She shook her head, peeking up at him through lowered lids. If she thought playing the demure captive was going to work with him, make him feel sorry for her situation, she really didn’t know who she was dealing with.
He took a deep breath and let it out slow, and loud. “Now, you see, that puts us in a bind. ’Cause I’m not going anywhere, and you need to get in the shower.”
Those thick, kissable, fuckable lips pressed together in a thin line, and she raised her chin. Ah, he loved the stubborn ones.
Irritation gave way to anger. The soft edges of her chestnut eyes heated, and her cheeks reddened.
“Why does it matter to you?” Her clipped tone pleased him, more than she could possibly know. Wilted flowers weren’t interesting.
“For one thing, you said you’d work off the debt in my clubs, right? Working for me? Well, if you can’t even take your clothes off in front of me, how will you be able to do it with a room full of horny, drooling old men ogling you?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
The red of her cheeks deepened, and she to nibbled on the inside of her lower lip.
“When will I start?” she asked.
He masked his surprise at her question. No argument, no pleading to get out of it.
“When I see what you can do. Stand up and strip.” He hadn’t meant to make her get naked in front of him. Not this time, at least, not at their first true meeting. But things had changed a bit when he caught her trying to climb out the damn window.
She took a shaky breath and seemed to come to a conclusion. She jumped off the bed and gripped the hem of her shirt. Before he had the chance to even enjoy the idea of her getting undressed, she peeled off the T-shirt, shoved her skirt off, and stood before him in a pair of light-purple lace panties and matching bra.
“Not one for seduction, I suppose.” He grinned. “You’re still dressed.” He nudged his chin in her direction.
Her chest heaved with a sigh, and her hands moved behind her to unclasp her bra. With as little ceremony as she had given with her outer clothing, she shed her undergarments, dropping the bra on the pile with the shirt and skirt and shoving her panties to her ankles and kicking them off. When she stood upright again, one arm draped across her chest, and the other hand covered her sex.
He clucked his tongue. “Now, you see, that’s not going to fly.” When she didn’t respond or make a movement, he raised his eyebrows. “First, look at me.” He gave her a moment, and she didn’t disappoint. Fiery eyes met his, and he grinned even more. Damn, she was more than he could have expected from such a weasel as Dominick. “Good. Put your hands at your sides.”
“You’re an asshole,” she said with tension in her jaw. She seemed ready to spit at him. Delicious.
“True enough. Hands.” He didn’t move from his position. If she didn’t comply, he’d have to step in. No sense in letting her think she could get away with directly disobeying him.
She fisted her hands and dropped them to her sides, still holding his gaze with her own. He couldn’t be more pleased. While she had her eyes locked on him, his attention wandered over her body, accessing and appreciating.
So much better than he could have dreamed. Every bit of her was edible. Her curvy hips, her belly, her athletic thighs, and her breasts. Much better without the bra. They hung heavy, and he wanted to touch them, pinch her nipples, slap them until they swayed. But he would wait. At least until she had a shower.
He let his inspection move lower to the small patch of curls covering her mound. A perfect little patch, well groomed. She kept herself tidy.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked absently. It wouldn’t matter, but he wanted to know.
“No.”
“Previous?”
“Previous what?”
“Boyfriends.”
Rage simmered in her expression, her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. If she thought this little display was indecent, she was about to have a very rough time of it.
“Yes.”
He rolled his hand in the air. “How many? Fuck, this is like pulling teeth.”
“Four. I dated four men during and since college. I had a boyfriend in high school, so I guess it’s really five. Would you like their stats? Height, weight all that?”
He pointed a finger at her. “I like a little sass, but you’re getting close to the line. And if I were you, I wouldn’t cross it.”
She shifted from one foot to the other, probably trying not to give him another smart remark.
“Sex?”
Her eyes flashed to his then moved away again quickly. “Yes. I’ve had sex, and the number of partners is none of your damn business.”
He dropped his feet from the bed, letting his boots hit the floor hard enough to startle her, and stood up. He towered over her, nearly two heads taller, but she didn’t seem frightened, not even a bit. He gripped her face, pressing his fingers into her cheeks and pushing back until her eyes settled on him.
“You gave yourself to me. I didn’t go searching for you. You showed up here. And I accepted your offer, which means, you’re mine. Everything about you, everything you think, everything you do, what you wear, what you eat, is all my business.” He’d used a lower voice. His control would affect her more than a raised voice or hand. And he did have the control. She just didn’t understand it yet.
When the storm in her eyes simmered, he released her.
“How many partners?” he asked. He hadn’t planned to, but since she had to go and have a little tirade, he’d have to push her further. “Did you fuck all of them? More, maybe? A few one-night stands?” He’d bet no. She didn’t seem the type to do a one-nighter.
“Go. To. Hell. I said I’d work off my father’s debt. I didn’t say you owned me.”
Her mind twisted the truth to make it easier on her. He couldn’t allow it. Her reality would only be a hell of a lot more shocking if he permitted her to pull the cover over her eyes.
“You gave yourself in exchange for him. What I do with you is my decision, not yours.” He inched a little closer to her, invading her space. “How many?”
It warred within her. The decision to tell him, or maybe she was considering lying. Too many men and he might think her a whore, too few and he’d condemn her a virgin.
“Three.”
He smiled at her and patted her cheek. “See, not so hard. And did they make love to you or fuck you?”
Her brows knitted together.
“There’s a difference. You know that, right?”
“What difference does it make?” Her question came softly.
He studied her expression. Darkness settled around her eyes. The maids had said the bed hadn’t been touched. Had she slept at all since arriving the night before? He could order her to sleep as he did with eating her dinner. Though he doubted making it an order would aid her ability to obey.
“
It makes a difference. But I’ll let you answer another time.” He stepped away from her, letting her breath some relief at his absence. “Take a shower and go to bed. You need sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” A lie.
“I don’t tolerate liars, Ellie. A fact you should memorize quickly.” He stared at her for a solid moment then stalked toward to the door. “Shower and bed. If I find out you didn’t obey me, there will be consequences.”
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked in a rush as he opened the door.
He glanced over his shoulder at her standing in the middle of the room, naked, with only her arms covering her belly.
“Whatever the hell I want.”
CHAPTER THREE
His room connected to hers.
Ellie woke just after the sun began to rise. She scooted off the massive bed and peeked through the blinds at it, watching until it chased away the shadows of the night.
She surveyed the room for the umpteenth time, still finding nothing out of the ordinary. Still exactly as it was when she’d arrived.
Arrived.
She’d been so naive to think Ash would give her more time. She didn’t know much about him, but what she’d found online, and what Jason had warned her about appeared to be true. He didn’t care about anyone or anything other than himself. And money.
Thinking about money made her start wondering again how would he make her repay her father’s debt. Would he put her in a strip club? She had no rhythm; she’d only end up embarrassing herself. Perhaps he could use her as the court jester—comedic relief for the pervs lined up around the bar waiting for the next gorgeous dancer to come out and shake their groove thing for them.
She needed to get out of the room. At least to take a breath. He couldn’t keep her locked up forever. Just sitting around waiting to see if he would return, with more questions. And those eyes. Those piercing blue eyes that almost hurt to stand before.
Getting undressed in front of him had been humiliating. Having to stand there fully nude mortified her, and then his damn questions. She’d thought he wouldn’t leave until he used her, at the very least touched her again. And then he would have noticed. He would have felt the wicked wetness between her legs. The more humbled he made her, the wetter she became. It was a huge relief when he simply ordered her to shower and sleep.
And a bit of disappointment. But she wouldn’t dwell.
When she had finished with her shower, she had found a nightgown on the remade bed, along with clothes folded on the table for her. The dishes were gone and the window had been shut. It had been locked, too and she couldn’t find a latch to open it.
Trying to escape had been a harebrained idea. Even if she’d made it to the ground without breaking her face open, she’d have had to get through the gates and hitch a ride. His estate, although not far from town, wasn’t exactly within walking distance either.
She needed to get out of the room. Dressed in the black leggings and sweater left for her, she eyed the door he had used the night before. She hadn’t heard a lock click, but he could have done it after she’d gone into the shower.
Relief washed over her when the knob turned, and she pushed the door open. She rushed in and closed the door quietly behind her. When she turned around, she nearly groaned. Another bedroom.
His bedroom.
His jeans were thrown on the foot of the bed, and his boots lay on the floor as though he’d kicked them off on his way to the bathroom.
She took a step toward another door, assuming it led to the hallway, when the bathroom door swung open, and he stepped out into the room.
“Need something?” He gave her a cocky grin. His hair, wet and hanging loose, brushed across his shoulders, his very broad, very naked shoulders. The man wore only a towel tied around his waist. But it didn’t hide very much. He was too tall. His muscular abs pointed the way for her gaze to travel his length. And tattoos, so many and of varying sizes and shapes.
She wanted to soak it all in, to see each one, but she was already spending too much time gawking at him.
“Uh. No. I was—”
“Just trying to leave again?” He supplied for her. “I thought we talked about that last night.”
“I wasn’t leaving. I just wanted to walk around, to get outside for a bit.” She averted her gaze when he started to unwrap the towel. “I’ll just go back—”
“No, stay here,” he ordered. She could see in her peripheral vision he was rubbing his hair with the towel.
“No, that’s—”
“I wasn’t fucking asking, Ellie.” He dropped the towel and within a few strides was right in front of her. She raised her head, looking away, but he cupped her face and dragged her to him again. “I said to stay. You’ll stay. If I say to sit, you sit. If I say jump—what do you do?”
Those eyes again. Blue and sharp, demanding she give him her full attention, her obedience.
“I ask how high?” She tried to force a smile, something to gentle his fierceness.
But he didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh.
“No. You just fucking jump.” He released her and moved to the closet. She let herself get a peek at his ass. The thick muscles of his body tensing and gliding as he moved. More tattoos on his broad back. What was the purpose of so many?
When he came out of the closet, a pair of black boxers hugged his body. “Breakfast is probably ready. I’ll take you downstairs. Then you can have your tour of the place with Peter.” She inched her way to the door she suspected led out to the hall.
“Why did you put me in the room next to yours?” She blurted out the question while he stepped into jeans.
“Because it’s where I wanted you.” He yanked his zipper up and turned to her, his chest still void of a shirt. “The answer to any question you have starting with the word why is because I wanted to.” He went over to the dresser and withdrew an undershirt, pulling it on and tucking it into his jeans. She stood in silence watching him work a thick, black, well-worn leather belt through the loops and buckle it. It took her a moment to realize he’d been staring at her while she spied on him.
Her cheeks heated.
He chuckled. “A belt girl, huh? Well, we’ll see about that later.”
“My phone is missing from my bag.” She raised her chin. Letting him unsettle her wouldn’t be a good way to start things. He couldn’t get the impression she was some wallflower.
“I know.” He nodded and worked the buttons on his shirt, still keeping his infuriating gaze on her. He was obviously trying to intimidate her. Scaring her would probably turn him on.
He really was a beast.
“I’d like it returned.” She crossed her arms over her chest, giving the illusion she had a much sterner disposition than she actually had.
“You don’t need it.” He rolled the sleeves of the shirt to his elbows, plucked his own phone from the charger, and stuffed it in his back pocket. “C’mon. Breakfast.” He moved past her to the door, but when she didn’t immediately follow, he paused. “Are we going to do this again?” he asked on a sigh. “I can and will make you. Don’t mistake the kindness I’ve shown you so far for weakness.”
“Kindness?” she huffed. “Which kindness do you mean? Where you locked me in a room for almost two days? Where you took away my father without letting me say goodbye. Or maybe when you tried to humiliate me last night?”
His eyes narrowed as he squared off with her. She held her ground, not changing her stance. He wouldn’t get to her; he wouldn’t scare her. She repeated this mantra in her mind while he continued to stare at her.
“The kindness of not killing your father. The kindness of instead of throwing you naked to my men for a night of entertainment, I gave you a warm bed and shelter. Are those kind enough for you, or would you prefer I strip you and give you to my men? Because they’d love to get a naive ass like yours for a night of fun.”
She swallowed the sob forming in her chest at the image he presented. No one would st
op him if he wanted to do it. Not a single person would come to her aid if he had her held down while his men did whatever they wanted to do to her body.
“Now. Like I said. Breakfast, then you’ll get to see the place. This is your new home; might as well see it.” He opened the door and waited for her to get moving.
Ellie made herself walk, her elbow brushing him as she passed through the doorway. Not really sure which way to turn in the hallway, she had to wait for him. He placed his open hand on the small of her back and led her to the right, toward the winding staircase Peter had brought her up two nights prior.
Breakfast was ready when they arrived in the dining room. Two plates were set out, piled with scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh-cut fruit. Ash put her in a chair then took the one at the head of the long table.
The table could easily seat twenty, and the room could double as a ballroom. The architecture, the light decor letting the decorative trim and soft coloring shine through, contrasted with the obscure man she sat with.
Ash cleared his throat, and she realized she hadn’t picked up her fork yet. Most of his plate was already cleared.
“Have you decided what I’m going to do? Where I’ll work?” She took a small bite of watermelon, enjoying the full burst of flavor and juices. She’d been starved, only having eaten the potatoes from the plate the night before. Her stomach had growled through most of the night.
“Well, stripping’s out.” He wiped his napkin across his face. “I saw you last night, remember?”
Her face heated. She may not have the body of a high-priced stripper, but she wasn’t exactly chopped meat.
“Men like a little more sensuality in their strip teases,” he clarified as though he knew she’d taken his words the wrong way.
She shifted in her chair and took another bite of fruit.
“I can waitress,” she suggested between bites.
“I suppose you could,” he agreed, pushing his plate away. “I think I want you here, though.”
She finished the fruit and took a large bite of eggs before placing her fork across the plate. “Here?”
“Yes.” He nodded and turned his attention to Peter walking into the room.
