Nuzzling against my left ear he rumbles, “Come on, princeza. Tell me what I need to know. I don’t want to have to hurt you. You’re far too delicate for that, baby.”
The combination of his words and voice hypnotize me. The reactions he brings out of me makes time stand still. His full, pink lips come into view as he shifts his head. They press against mine and flood my brain with pleasure. The kiss he bestows on me is both passionate and romantic. His mouth is hot perfection as it moves against mine with practiced ease. He’s controlling the kiss. Controlling me. He’s masterful by nature, and I can’t resist him, if only in this moment.
He’s hungry for me as his tongue probes then presses in. I brush both arms up against his wide back, affected in spite of myself by the feel of his powerful torso resting beneath his dark cotton t-shirt.
A deep groan rumbles in his throat. He’s coming undone. It is becoming obvious that his attraction to me is at least as powerful as mine is to him, if not more so.
Could I use this to my advantage?
The fleeting thought vanishes as his hips grind slowly against my bare mound. It feels as if a wide steel bar is pressing against my upper thigh. He’s huge. A new gush of wetness floods my sex as I moan softly into his mouth. What’s happening to cause me to fall so hard for his touch?
A primal part of my brain begins to wonder if he will force me to have sex with him right here on this table in his workout room. Would I even care at this point? He’s in my bloodstream.
This is dangerous, Carew. This sort of sexual interrogation is far worse than any pain he could inflict on me tonight.
Reluctantly I tear my mouth from his and stare up into his sultry eyes. I whisper, “Don’t do this to me.”
He hesitates for a moment and then shifts, pushing silently off the table. I snap my legs together, ashamed that he has seen how much he affects me. Hell, at this point he can most likely scent it on me like an animal in heat.
I sit up and think about jumping off the table to make a run for the stairs, but the thought of possible consequences holds me frozen in place. I remain watchful, wary of his next move.
He moves toward a weight bench and pauses, whipping off his black t-shirt in a lightning fast motion. My mouth falls open. Tattooed on his back is a tiger. A magnificent tiger. A giant Bengal tiger with wicked black, orange-gold, and white stripes. Both its claws and fangs are bared. The head is turned in a full profile view at his right shoulder and his tail skirts around to the left of his torso, just above his hip. He is raw power, personified.
It is nearly as gorgeous as the lush jungle backdrop displayed on his skin. It’s both dense and botanical in nature. Vivid green leaves and white lotus flowers. His entire back is covered, all the way down to the base of his spine, ending just above his low-slung beltline.
I know zip about tattoos, but as an avid art lover, I recognize quality when I see it. It must have taken hundreds of hours to create this tattoo. Not to mention the depth of pain its creation must have inflicted on Zoran.
It becomes brilliantly clear to me that there is nothing this man doesn’t already know about pain. I bet that he’s seen several lifetimes of it, judging from his hardened expression and the scars on his chest.
When he stalks back toward me, I decide to simply go for it.
“Your tattoo is stunning,” I whisper as he moves closer, doing my best to cover my shaking frame with my arms and long hair.
“It pleases me that you like it, princeza.”
Talk to him. Stall him. Make him like you so he won’t hurt you down in this lonely basement ….
“How long have you had it?”
As he stands before me, I can clearly make out the three grisly gunshot wounds. One skirts his right ribcage and two hit him in the shoulder above the heart. This man should be dead.
“A while.”
He leans into the table and wraps his palms around my upper thighs. I gasp as I’m lifted up against him, my exposed bare mound pressed directly against his muscled stomach. I’m forced to throw my arms around his neck to keep from falling back.
His hands slide under my ass as he lifts me from the table and walks to the opposite side of the room.
I’m going to have to make a move soon. If I can just land something, a kick perhaps, then I can go for his keys. Surely I can make it to the vehicle before those dogs come after me, right? What other choice do I have?
My back bumps up against a suspended boxing bag. I bet the thing sways at an angle when he goes hard at the heavy device. Hot lips begin to trail down and across my neck as his right hand sweeps up from my thigh, across my stomach and lands against my breast.
He firmly palms the underside as he moans, “Tako lijepa.” So pretty.
I’m on my last reserves of control. His touch is mind-bending. This has to be stopped before things go any further. He continues with the barrage of sensual kisses, covering my neck. I’m so ramped up that my core is drenching his ripped stomach. He must know. How completely embarrassing!
He leans back, eyes glazed with lust, to demand, “Tell me what I want to know. Before things get ugly. You don’t want that, princeza.”
My answer is physical rather than verbal. I rear back as far as the red leather bag behind me will allow, and with all my force tightly consolidated, I slam my forehead into his face.
“U picku materinu!” Son of a bitch! He bellows with rage at the unexpected strike. Instantly I’m dropped down to the padded mats.
It must have been a good knock to the face because I’m seeing stars once I hit the ground. I catch a flash of him slightly bent and clutching at his nose right before I scramble for the stairs.
Fast! Move, move! Adrenaline explodes in my brain as I fly up the steps. There are only a couple left above me. If I can just get to that door, I can try and lock him down here!
A bone-chilling roar fills the air. Suddenly, the stairs fall out from beneath me. My hair is grabbed and I’m flying backwards.
Smack!
“Agh!”
I fall incredibly hard against the black sparring mats that cover the entire room. I struggle desperately to suck in air as I twist to scramble back up to my knees. He wastes zero time. He’s behind me, dragging me by the armpits toward the punching bag.
If I can just get to my feet, I might have a chance against this animal. My skills are solid and hopefully his nose is more injured than my wrist. I struggle hard against his hold, wrenching my shoulders back and forth as he once again hauls me up against the bag. I can’t bear to look in his face but I can feel his breath, which is ragged and irregular. He is snorting like a bull.
“Look at me!” The power behind his voice is so strong I can feel it vibrate through me.
Surreal. I’ve never heard him raise his voice until now. His need to control is chilling.
I turn away in defiance, and he grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to face him.
“You want to fight, princeza?” His voice is low, angry and guttural, nearly unrecognizable.
“Fuck you, you sick savage!” I lash out in a venomous hiss. I spit at him, and the wad lands on his right cheek. Good, my aim was true!
He growls, “Na oganj ulja ne ljevaj.” You shouldn’t add oil to the fire.
I gasp as he spins me around so fast that my bad arm flies outward and wraps quickly around the wide bag in order to keep me from falling over sideways. Like an iron shackle, his hand encircles my good wrist and hauls it up to the chain holding the bag suspended from the wooden ceiling rafter. My chest presses tight against the bag.
“Grab it.”
My entire head vibrates from the strength of his angry voice. I’m on tiptoes, but I grasp the cold chain that leads up to the mount on the ceiling. The heavy bag sways slightly with the trembling that’s coming from my body.
He steps away. What is he up to? I turn back to look over my shoulder. He’s coming at me with a black length of boxing hand-wraps. He’s planning on tying me to this bag? Oh shit! I start t
o let go.
“No!”
He’s fast, and I shudder as his hand squeezes hard against mine. The smooth, thick links are certainly imprinted in my right palm. Before I can fight, he begins wrapping the black cotton around my clenched hand and the chain over and over again, essentially tethering me to the weighty bag.
I’m terrified.
“Please, I’m sorry, Zoran. Please!”
His huge body presses up against mine, sandwiching me between himself and the bag. I close my eyes and try to breathe in through my nose. I must calm down and think clearly ….
Oh my God, his cock is still rock hard!
It presses against my back. It’s so huge that it feels like a weapon in itself.
He’s struggling for control as he says, “You’re not fucking sorry. Don’t you ever lie to me. But I promise you, princeza, you soon will be.”
I hate that he has control simply because I’m injured. I’m pissed and scared. I hate both feelings with a passion. Is he going to rape me, tethered here to this instrument of aggression? Self-preservation takes over. I lift my knee and kick back high, swift and hard, doing my very best to hit him in the groin. He’s too tall, and I connect with what I think is the top of his knee. It must have hurt, because he grunts low and my heel burns with the pain of contact.
He snarls, “You’re a fucking wildcat, woman! Okay, let’s play, baby.”
I shake my hair away from my face and crane my neck to watch him. I’m breathing hard as he undoes the buckle on his wide, black leather belt. Not good. So not good, Carew! He whips it off his waist in a sure tug.
My mouth opens and I begin to pant.
He wraps the belt once around his powerful fist before saying in a cold, flat voice, “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll stop.”
Time suspends in a long moment of horror. The belt flies back over his shoulder before it slices through the air with a clear whoosh. It lands impossibly hard on my exposed backside.
“Aaigeeee!” I scream. The pain is beyond comprehension. It’s vicious and all-consuming, instantly submerging me in its raw depths.
The belt lands again.
And again.
On and on, the blows rain down and my sweating chest pushes against the weighted bag. I’m hoping, praying, that I can somehow move away from his brutal strikes. Begging will get me nowhere. I know this like I know the name of the hospital where I was born.
He wants details and unfortunately for me, I can’t give them up. I’ve been trained. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that as soon as he has what he needs from me I’m as good as dead. I must endure.
Around blow twelve, he shouts through my panicked sobs, “Talk to me. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll end the pain. Just give up, stop trying to be tough.” There is an edge of desperation in his voice that is perplexing, considering the punishment he is meting out on my burning ass.
Dancing on my toes, I grip the chain tighter and swallow a whimper. “Go to hell!”
Tough? I’ll show him the meaning!
There is no reply, with the exception of a bombardment of more hard strikes. My ass and upper thighs are in a torrent of fiery pain that I could never comprehended to be possible before this moment. I wouldn’t be surprised if I already have welts. I struggle for inner strength.
Screw him. I’m not begging this monster for anything!
Just as I’m finding it difficult to breathe through my choking sobs, it all stops. The belt hits the padded floor with a thwack. Then he’s gone, moving rapidly up the stairs to the door. His footfalls are heavy, and as soon as he’s gone, I cry out in relief and would have crumpled to the floor if I wasn’t chained upright. I’m shaking and wet with a mixture of both tears and sweat from my face down to my stomach. My ass must be in awful shape because it’s pulsing wildly in pain.
I hear movement upstairs.
The door at the top of the steps re-opens and I hear him coming back down.
No! Already? I’m not certain how much more I can take. I hope he wasn’t just warming up!
I slowly lift my forehead off the bag in sweaty exhaustion. He stands on the other side, facing me with only the leather cylinder between us. His face is blank, cold.
“Talk to me. Tell me who you are and I’ll let you down. I don’t like harming you.”
He’s holding a white bag. Additional instruments to make me open up and talk? I’m doomed.
Meeting his eyes, I try to speak clearly, honestly. “I can’t.” It comes out as a soft, odd croak.
His gray eyes narrow before he responds, “Okay, princeza. I’m going to leave you to think on it.”
He places the bag on the floor and pulls out a proper air cast, of all things. My eyes fill with tears of relief. He’s not going to harm me any more … for now. As he touches my injured wrist, I jerk back slightly. I can’t help it.
“Calm yourself.”
“Easy for you to say.” I pin him with a wary stare.
He shakes his head in disbelief as he gently unwraps the Tiger Paw brace, leaving my other arm tied to the chain. My exposed wrist is throbbing, the Advil has long since worn off, and I would give my last dime for an entire bottle right now. Not only for my wrist, but also for my throbbing ass.
He slips on the air cast and secures it before he gently releases my arms.
“Look at me, princeza.”
I shoot him an enraged look before huffing out, “Stop calling me that. It’s not my name and I hardly think that terms of endearment are appropriate in this wacked out scenario.”
He surprises me by barking out a short laugh. “I like you, princeza. You’ve got heart. Tell me your name, then, if you want it used. Your real one, not the one you gave Juric.”
How about I give you my favorite phrase instead, big man? Hmm … let’s see. “Screw you!” I scream in his face, exhausting my last ounce of energy. He stays calm but he has a tell: his neck muscles and wide shoulders visibly tense up.
Oh God, is that a knife wound slashing across the top of his shoulder?
Taking a wide step back, he says in a low, angry voice, “You take your time and think on it. We’ll keep this game up until you’re ready to talk. I’m a man of infinite patience, as you will soon learn.”
I turn away in disgust, nuzzling a flaming, wet cheek against the side of the leather, away from his prying stare. Without another word, he disappears up the stairs and closes the door quietly behind him.
I cry out in open relief that he’s decided to leave me alone. I’ve heard plenty of stories about interrogations that could easily double as urban legends. He could have been far harsher with me. He drew no blood, left no permanent damage. Would he really kill me if I told him the truth? Now I’m no longer so sure.
Pins and needles. First in my fingers and then lower, down through my stretched right arm. Being suspended like this is agony. Every time I try to push up higher on my toes to take the tension off my arm, my toes start to cramp up.
How much of this does he think I can take? At this point I’d be willing to tell him my name. The sacrifice would be worth it, if only for a little relief. I wish I would pass out, anything to stop this horrid, gnawing pain.
At least he left the light on ….
Chapter Seven
The Tie That Binds
I press my sweaty back up against the basement door. Stupid, headstrong girl! Why won’t she just tell me what I need to know? I stopped when she’d had enough. I didn’t like whipping her but it was a necessary evil. She was unwise enough to fuck with my employer, and I need to know why. If she wasn’t so arrogant and stubborn, this would be much easier for her.
Does she think I’ll take her out once she gives up the information? Most likely. That must be the reason that she’s on lockdown. Regardless, she’s going to talk to me tonight.
Fuck! I nearly came in my cargos when I first touched that silky pussy of hers. She is perfection personified. While I had her beneath me on the massage table, it took every ounce of my co
ntrol not to wrench open my fly and shove my cock into her like an animal.
I’ll have her. It’s just a matter of time. I want her willing and eager, though. The thought of raping a woman leaves an awful taste in my mouth. I’ve seen groups of soldiers on both sides of the war do that, albeit from a distance and through a rifle scope. No, I wouldn’t put a female through that humiliation. Either I’ll have her willingly or not at all.
And she was drenched with need for me tonight.
So fucking sweet ….
I look down at my bare stomach cast in shadows in the hallway. Unable to resist, I swipe my index finger across the area where her spread pussy rested not long ago. Placing the finger between my lips, I suck and swirl my tongue against the moisture. My eyes close and a groan escapes me as her taste washes through me like the rush of a potent drug. Like peaches, so delicate and laced with honey. I must have her … soon.
I’ll go out of my skull if I don’t.
With a sigh, I push away from the door and head into the dining room. Black and white framed photographs of my relatives hang on the four walls, dating back as far as the dawn of photography. They are all there. This is the one room in my home that has remained unaltered. The one with the strongest memories.
Laughter around the twelve-foot-long walnut dining table. Playing hide and seek with my brother underneath. Our mother’s mouthwatering meals. God, what I wouldn’t give for just one more of her Purgerica turkeys that she labored over lovingly each and every Christmas. Fuck, I can still remember that last Christmas here, when we were so happy. That was two months before they were all slaughtered.
This room is full of emotional memories. I hate the sorrow but crave it all the same. It’s all I have left of them.
Turning to leave, I rest my eyes on the one photo that tears into my soul. My mother and father. It’s a candid shot taken at their wedding reception. Her youthful face glows with happiness, her hair upswept with a trailing veil of fine lace. She’s dancing with my father, who looks tall and handsome in his black suit. Why did that evil have to happen to them? Fucking senseless.
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