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Forbidden Fruit: Volume 1

Page 39

by Harley, Lisa M.


  “What happened to you?” he asked, stepping closer to me. I pressed my back against the wall and hugged my knees closer to my chest. At first I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then the memories of last night flooded back. I’d been ignoring the throbbing pain that radiated from my swollen cheek and my hand. Pain wouldn’t help me escape, so I’d pushed the feelings deep down under a layer of false confidence. But when he looked at me with concern in his eyes, I almost felt like caving ad crumbling at his feet.

  “Erian, this is why you’re arm is in that fucking cast, isn’t it?” he snapped, and turned toward the other guard. I hadn’t noticed the wrap until Loran pointed it out. Erian’s injured arm was casted up and harsh bruising radiated off his nose. I must have broken it. The bastard deserved even more.

  “Were my instructions about touching the prisoners confusing?” Loran asked, pulling his gun out of the holster on his hip.

  Erian’s body visibly flinched as he shook his head and started rambling in Albanian. He pointed to me, trying to explain. I didn’t miss the hatred behind his gaze.

  His pleading was silenced a moment later when Loran pulled the trigger on his gun. One single bullet and Erian lay flat on the ground with blood seeping from his heart.

  I screamed and scrambled to my feet, looking around desperately for a weapon to defend myself with. He killed him! He killed him in broad daylight, right in front of me.

  My breathing was fast and loud as I tried in vain to fill my lungs with air. It felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen no matter how much I inhaled.

  Loran’s hard gaze snapped to me for a brief moment. He watched me like a scared animal rather than a torturer, and I didn’t look away. I met his gaze head on, trying to understand the intricacies of my situation.

  My safety was worth more than his guard’s life? Or was he simply demonstrating the fact that he was in charge? Exerting his dominance and setting the law.

  “Get him out of here and dispose of the body.” He gestured with his gun and pointed out of the cell. The three remaining men scrambled into action for fear that they would be next. I’d never witnessed a murder, but I didn’t feel pity for this man. I would have killed him last night if given the opportunity.

  Once the men were out of sight, Loran replaced his gun in his holster and turned to face me. He didn’t utter a word as he moved closer. I didn’t budge. My shallow breaths echoed in the confined space. His hand reached out to touch my chin and I shivered in response to his touch. It wasn’t welcome. He wasn’t allowed to touch me and I wanted him to move away. But this was much different than Erian’s touch last night. Loran was the key to my escape and the way his eyes bored into mine didn’t tell me he wanted my blood. No, he wanted something else entirely.

  He tipped my chin up to inspect my injury, and I flinched, expecting pain. There was none though. His fingers barely grazed my skin. He wasn’t grabbing me. His touch was gentle and caring. It was as if he feared me as much as I feared him. He moved an inch closer to me and, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I wilted toward him, letting him hold my weight instead of the wall. He was massive; his size clouded over me. His skin seared me through our clothing and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to clear my head of the strange feelings circulating through my thoughts.

  His free hand wrapped around my shoulder to sturdy me, and I winced at the touch. My shoulders were still sore from hanging in the handcuffs yesterday.

  “Did he touch you anywhere other than your face?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

  That wasn’t the question I was expecting.

  “Why do you care?” I spat, remembering that he was the one holding me prisoner. No one else.

  His grip tightened on my shoulder and I swore I heard him snarl in response. “I won’t ask again. Did he touch you anywhere else?”

  I wanted to fight him harder, but I chose to be a compliant prisoner in that moment. “He tried to.”

  The corner of his mouth hitched up. “But you defended yourself, good girl.”

  My gaze snapped up to his. I narrowed my eyes on him and bit down on my lip to keep my anger inside. I hated this man. Why was he being nice to me?

  His gaze met mine with a challenging stare, and then before I could even process his movements, his mouth was on mine. He pressed us back against the wall and crushed his weight against mine. His mouth forced my lips open and he devoured me like he was a starving man. His tongue swept over mine and I was helpless to his attack. To be honest, there was not a single cell in my body that wanted to fight his kiss. But I knew it wasn’t right. He tasted divine and his hips ground into me, pressing his hardening cock against my stomach. I could feel him, and instead of pushing him away, I gripped his shirt and tugged him against me even harder. I could hardly breath, my lungs had no room to inflate, but I needed more. I needed him to be inside my skin, under my layers and buried where I needed him the most.

  Why? Why in that moment was my body able to forget my horrible situation? None of it made sense.

  I didn’t know what I was doing. If it had been any other man, in any other moment, I would have done the same self-defense moves that I’d done to Erian the night before. But it felt like I needed Loran to kiss me more than I needed the blood in my veins. It felt extreme and uncontrollable, like I was plunging into new depths of pleasure I never knew existed.

  His hand pried my jeans open until he had just enough space to slide his hand inside the top of my underwear. I should have stopped him. Oh, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew I should have stopped him. But I couldn’t. Once his long fingers slipped past my underwear and touched me, I was his willing prisoner. He could keep me forever as long as his fingers were involved in my torture.

  He groaned into my mouth just as his middle finger slipped inside of me. I was impossibly wet for him, as if I’d been waiting and wanting him for hours rather than only a few seconds. He made my body respond to him like I’d been positively conditioned to his touch. But I couldn’t let him know that. He was the one in power and I couldn’t feed him.

  “Stop.” My words begged and pleaded with him to end this while my body did the exact opposite.

  “Spread your legs for me, Kate.” I didn’t think about his command. I followed it without question, just like his guards had. The moment I’d edged my feet away from each other, he rewarded me with another finger. He sunk both of them inside of me, turning my world so that it was centered around him.

  “Fuck,” I moaned, loving the way his fingers curled against my g-spot. My head arched back against the concrete wall and he started to pick up his pace, finger fucking me into oblivion.

  “Loran,” I moaned softly.

  His body stiffened. “My name’s not Loran. It’s Adam. Say it,” he demanded, watching me with piercing eyes. What? His name isn’t Loran?

  When I didn’t respond immediately, he gripped my jaw and forced my gaze to him.

  “Say it, damnit.” Just as the curse word slipped from his lips, his fingers sunk into me so impossibly deep that the only thing left on the ground were the balls of my feet. Everything else was resting on Adam’s deft fingers.

  “Fuck you,” I answered just as his thumb rubbed my clit. My mouth fell open and a cry of pleasure escaped my lips before I could cover it up.

  “Come for me, you belong to me.” His words were vile, but his voice was smooth and his fingers were impossible to argue with. Each time his thumb swept across my clit, my fingers curled into a tight ball and I teetered on the edge of insanity.

  “Come for me now, Kate,” he demanded with a hard tone as his thumb picked up the pace. I had no control. I didn’t want to come. I didn’t want him to seduce my body while I was living in hell, but that’s exactly what he did.

  One final stroke of his thumb and my knees were buckling as I careened toward absolute bliss. He never stopped thrusting his fingers in and out of me even as he steadied my body with his other arm.

  I’d gripped his neck with my h
ands and the moment I had some semblance of control back in my limbs, I shoved away from him hard. Fuck him for making me have an orgasm in a place like this. He didn’t own my body. I tore out of his grasp and buckled my pants back up, staring daggers at him.

  He didn’t look the slightest bit upset by my withdrawal.

  “Let’s go,” he huffed, gripping my arm with his sturdy hand. I couldn’t have broken free. Elian was a fly compared to this man; there was no way I could fight him off.

  “Are you letting me go?” I asked, trying to meet his warm brown eyes.

  “No. You’re coming to my suite.”

  I yanked my arm back, and my shoulder screamed in protest. “What? No! You have to let me go! You can’t keep me here! I won’t be your sex slave!”

  Adam’s grip on my arm tightened painfully as he bent down to meet my eyes. “Does it look like you’re my sex slave? Did I just rape you? Or did I stroke your clit until your eyes rolled back with pleasure.”

  Bastard. I hated him in that moment and I told him so.

  “Good. Keep using that hate or you won’t survive me.”

  My chest rose and fell as I contemplated his threat.

  “I don’t want to go to your suite with you,” I raged, jerking my arm back one last time. His brown eyes bore into me with a mixture of confusion and fury. He hated that I questioned his authority, but if he wanted to be a part of a rebel group, he couldn’t have it both ways. He couldn’t pretend that I was here willingly. If he wanted me to go to his suite, he’d have to force me and reveal his true colors.

  “I don’t think you quite understand the situation you’ve found yourself in, Kate.” That was the third time he’d used my name. I didn’t know how he knew it. Perhaps the mole had told him? I hated the way his slight accent twisted my name into something beautifully harsh. It would be so easy to forget the evil situation and succumb to him, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t an option.

  “Then why don’t you enlighten me, Adam. Or was it Loren? I can’t keep up,” I asked, crossing my arms over my now-filthy shirt.

  I needed food and a shower. A change of clothes would be nice. But I wasn’t at home, or even at my hotel. I was in hell.

  He ignored my question completely.

  “You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong and you ended up here. What do you think happens to people in these cells? Do you think this is a game? That I’ll save you every time one of these guards breaks in to abuse you? I’d think long and hard before you choose to remain in here rather than follow me to my suite.” I couldn’t figure out how one man could be so beautiful and so inherently frightening all at once. His lips begged to be kissed, but his words were sharp as knives.

  “Why would I go with you? I thought you said you were the worst of them all?” I asked, regurgitating his threat from yesterday.

  “Yes, and yet, I don’t think you quite believe me,” he snapped, turning on his heel and exiting the cell so that I was left with my answer. The iron bars snapped to a close and he walked away without one glance back to me. He’d given me one chance to have a semblance of freedom, to leave this rank cell and go to his suite, and I had turned it down.

  I paced my cell like I was a caged animal. I had no clue what would happen next. I’d pissed off the man that could have saved me, but what did he expect me to do? Roll over and let him fuck me in this disgusting place? This wasn’t right. I deserved freedom, not to be held illegally is some underground bunker.

  I tried to collect every piece of information I could: I was still in Kosovo. I was being detained by LARK for attempting to interview one of their guards. Adam was one of the leaders, but he looked nothing like any of the other men, and I was fairly certain he hadn’t grown up in Kosovo. He’d killed a man for attempting to rape me. He had a temper and the hands of a God.

  Nothing added up. I slammed my hands on the iron bars and the force ricocheted through my bones.

  No one bothered checking on me until several hours later. One of the guards from yesterday, the one that had kicked away the gun, unlocked my door and skated a plate of food toward me.

  “You have five minutes to eat and then the boss wants you back in the handcuffs.”

  That fucking asshole. He was too much of a coward to tie me up himself so he sent one of his cronies to do it for him. I wasn’t a fool. I shoved that food into my mouth like it was the last time I’d ever see food. My plate was licked clean by the time the guard reentered my cell. He moved to push me back to the handcuffs, but I lifted my hands up in surrender and moved back myself. I was tired of being pushed around; I wasn’t going to fight him on this.

  “Do people ever get out of here?” I asked as he clicked the cuffs into place.

  The guard narrowed his eyes before scratching his stubble with sharp, dirty fingers. “No.” he answered with a harsh Albanian accent before spitting on the ground by my feet.

  The moment he was out of sight, I let out a harsh scream. A scream that contained every ounce of anger and fear that had been slowly building since I’d awoken here yesterday.

  ~*~*~*~

  I woke up a few hours later, blinking sleep away from my eyes as the sounds of torture from next door invaded my senses. Loud screams echoed down the halls from every direction as I heard bone hitting bone. But as I blinked my eyes open and my head cleared, I realized there weren’t any noises.

  They’d all been in my dream.

  Boots clapped against the concrete floor and I didn’t even bother lifting my chin to see who it was. I didn’t care. The iron bars clanked and then his clean scent broke through the filth. Adam. He’d returned for me.

  I still didn’t look up to meet his eyes. He came to stand directly in front of me as he worked the handcuffs off my wrists. I rolled my tongue over my chapped lips, trying to stay in control of my senses. His broad chest hit my head when he reached to free the other hand. When both wrists were out of the cuffs, I rolled out my shoulders, trying to regain feeling in my limbs.

  “Did you eat your dinner?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and unattached.

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “Come, I’ll give you a change of clothes and a shower.”

  He gripped the top of arm gently enough that I could pretend he wasn’t forcing me. I kept my tongue at bay. Leaving the cell was a good thing. It was a step closer to freedom. I didn’t think the guard had been lying when he said that no one escaped from there. I had to be cunning and one step ahead or I’d rot away in that cell.

  He led me down the hallway and I saw glimpses of other people cowering in their cells. None of them were women. For that, I was grateful. I didn’t want to stare into the eyes of women that had it much worse than I did.

  At the end of the hallway, he reached up to grab two black handkerchiefs off the wall. I knew it’d been too good to be true. He wasn’t going to give me the possibility of escape. He twisted me around so that my back hit his hard chest. Then he whipped the handkerchief in front of my eyes and tied it into a harsh knot behind my head. He tied the other one around my wrists.

  I tried to angle my eyes as far down as I could, but it was pointless. Adam knew how to tie a tight blindfold. I couldn’t see a thing. He gripped my arm once again and started leading me forward. I could hardly keep up with him when I could see, so when I was blindfolded I was tripping over my feet, trying to feel for what was in front of me.

  Adam groaned in annoyance and then swung me up into his arms with one quick flourish.

  “I don’t need you to carry me,” I hissed, trying to be as much of a dead weight as I could.

  “That’s enough,” he snapped.

  I balled my fists, for one brief moment fantasizing about fighting him off. But then common sense set in and I realized I was out of my league, especially when I couldn’t see. My finger nails bit into my hands as I tried to remain still in his arms. Every instinct wanted me to flee.

  He carried me for a few more minutes of silence. I listened for the changing sounds: opening
doors, boots hitting concrete, and then dirt. I thought I smelled fresh air for the first time in two days. Finally, he set me down and reached to tug off the blindfold. The sight that greeted me was nothing like I’d expected. We weren’t underground. We were in a modern apartment, with clean, rich wood floors and white granite counters. It was an open floor plan. A kitchen opened into a sitting room, which led to a dining room that had an expensive chandelier hanging above the table.

  “Where am I?” I asked, trying to peer out of the windows, but all of the blinds were drawn.

  “My suite,” he answered curtly.

  “But… this looks nothing like my cell.”

  He narrowed his eyes and started walking away. “We aren’t all prisoners, Kate. Come.”

  My heels dug into the wood floor and I bit down on the inside of my cheek. I thought that when he turned the corner, I could make a run for it and try to find a door. But he didn’t give me the chance. When it was clear that I wasn’t going to follow right after him, he paused and turned back to me.

  “Now,” he demanded, and I felt my feet starting to move toward him. “You have an uncanny ability to test my patience.”

  I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest as I moved past him.

  He laid his hand on the small of my back and a tingle spread up my spine before I could stop it. I looked up to see a slight smirk on his face. He’d felt it too.

  When we reached the end of the hall, he pushed open a door and we entered a dark bedroom. The room was simple, clean gray tons, but the bed looked large and clean. My aching body begged to crawl on top and sleep for days. But we didn’t stop there. Adam pushed me toward a door across from the bed. The bathroom. It was just as modern and extravagant as the rest of the suite. I stood in the center of the white-tiled floor as Adam moved around me to retrieve items that I assumed were for me: a towel and some toiletries that had clearly never been used.

  “I don’t get it,” I whispered. Why was he giving me these things? Why was he letting me shower in his suite?

  “Just take them and get in the shower,” he answered curtly.

 

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