by Julia Sykes
“I’m not yours,” I insisted. “And you’re not keeping me. You said that’s your brother’s decision. Did you tell him you believe I’m FBI? Have you both seen reason and decided to let me go before the Bureau comes for you?”
“I’ll let him discuss this with you,” he replied.
He released my wrists and wrapped one hand behind my nape, pulling me toward him. I was forced to scramble across the mattress and get to my feet.
“Behave,” he ordered, squeezing my neck slightly in warning. Then he called out in Spanish.
Cristian Moreno appeared in the doorway, flanked by two men who were nearly as massive as Andrés.
My stomach dropped, and a horrible memory of Cristian’s knife slicing through my flesh flashed across my mind. I took a small step back, not realizing I was positioning myself closer to Andrés.
His grip on my neck eased, his fingers threading through my hair to massage my scalp. It helped ground me in the present, saving me from being thrust back into panic and choking terror.
Cristian’s dark eyes—so like his brother’s—watched my movements, coldly calculating. It occurred to me that I’d moved away from one tormentor to find shelter with another, and I eased away from Andrés. His fingers tightened in my hair, holding me firmly in place. He waited a few seconds, then released the tension and resumed massaging me once he was certain that I wasn’t going to struggle.
“You are Samantha Browning,” Cristian announced. “Andrés is convinced, and I had my people look into your story. You’re a fed.” He sneered the last.
I lifted my chin. “So you’ll let me go?”
“No.”
“But you have to,” I insisted in a rush. “If you keep me here, my friends—”
“They won’t find you here,” he cut me off with cool certainty. “One of my shell corporations owns this building. They won’t trace it back to me.”
“They know I was investigating your organization before you took me,” I said. “They’ll suspect you’re behind my disappearance. They’ll follow you until you lead them to me.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t come here often. This is my little brother’s home.”
Home? I thought, baffled. This entire freaking building was Andrés’ home? How much money did the Moreno family have at their disposal?
“Besides,” he continued. “It’s not like I’m stupid enough to get out of my car out on the street. And your people don’t have surveillance cameras in our private garage for this building. Which, I’ll remind you, they have no idea I own. So, Samantha Browning, no one is going to find you.”
My heart sank. If anyone could hack into Cristian Moreno’s life and trace his financials and properties, it was me. And I was trapped here, isolated from the Bureau and completely cut off from technology.
“You’re going to kill me,” I surmised, my blood running cold. There was no reason to keep me around anymore. He’d checked into my story, confirmed my identity, and he still didn’t care that I was FBI. He wasn’t intimidated in the least.
“No,” he said again. “You’re going to work for me from now on.”
“What?” I asked, all the air leaving my lungs.
“You’re going to erase all the evidence the FBI has on me. You will protect me and my business from them. If you do, I’ll let you live.”
A staunch refusal teased at the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. If he wanted me to log into the FBI database, that meant he’d have to give me access to the internet. I could get a message to Dex.
“Okay,” I agreed quickly. “I’ll need a computer.”
Too quickly.
He laughed, a hard, cold sound. “Do you think I’m a fool? You’ll contact the feds as soon as you get online. Now, I could just threaten to kill you if you try, but then you’d be useless to me if you’re dead. So, I’m going to leave you with my brother for a while longer. I’m sure he’ll break you in for me. He’s so good at that.”
Andrés growled, and his fingers tightened in my hair. He bit out something in Spanish, too fast for me to catch a single word.
Cristian smirked. “All right, hermanito,” he drawled. “You can keep this one. Just make sure she’s useful to me, and we won’t have any problems.”
“Give me a month,” Andrés replied, resuming the calm, assured demeanor that so unnerved me.
“You can have three weeks,” Cristian countered. “I don’t have time for you to play with your new toy. Break her, or I’ll find another way to ensure her cooperation.”
Andrés nodded his agreement, as though their discussion of my fate wasn’t horrifying enough to make nausea curl in my stomach.
“You can’t do this to me,” I managed faintly.
Andrés’ fingers hooked through the back of the collar, pulling it tight around my throat. I could still breathe, but I was very aware of his control.
“Quiet, cosita,” he commanded softly. “It’s done.”
The world blurred with my tears, and I could barely make out Cristian’s suit-clad form retreating from the suite, his guards in tow. When they were out of sight, my tormentor pulled me against his hard body, and I sobbed into his chest.
Chapter 6
“You haven’t eaten, sirenita,” he murmured as he stroked his big hand up and down my back.
I sniffled against him, collecting my thoughts as my wits returned. I tried to push away from him, but his arms firmed around me, trapping me against his hard body. He allowed me just enough space so I could lift my face to glower up at him.
“I didn’t want to be drugged again,” I said hotly, a clear accusation.
“I don’t need to drug you to keep you compliant.” His lips twisted in distaste. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You drugged me last night,” I reminded him.
He frowned at me. “You were hurting. I was sparing you more pain. Would you have preferred to suffer?”
“Yes,” I defied him. “Then I could have at least kept the dignity of my clothing. You stripped me as soon as I was unconscious.”
His brows rose. “Do you really think you’d still be wearing clothes if I didn’t want you to? You can’t hide from me, Samantha.”
His fingers fisted in the sheet at my lower back, and he pulled at the soft fabric until it loosened and slid down my body. I twisted in his hold, struggling to cover myself. But my movements only made the sheet shimmy down my legs, leaving me completely bare against my captor. He still wore his sharply-tailored suit. The dichotomy of power was painfully obvious: he was fully dressed, while I was writhing naked in his arms, a collar still locked around my throat in a sign of his ownership.
“You shouldn’t have covered yourself,” he reprimanded.
“So you would have paraded me naked in front of everyone? In front of your brother? How fucked up is your family?”
His jaw firmed. “I would have covered you before I invited Cristian in. I don’t let other men look at what’s mine.”
I shoved at his chest, accomplishing nothing. “I’m not your property.”
His hand fisted in my hair at my nape, tugging my head back and trapping me beneath his black stare. “You could be,” he said smoothly. “I could make you my plaything, my eager little fucktoy. And I think you would be eager, Samantha. Your body aches to be touched.”
I squirmed against him, my blood pounding through my veins. “I don’t want to be your…” The words died on my tongue. They were so vile and vulgar, I couldn’t bear to repeat them. “I don’t want you to touch me,” I managed.
“You do,” he countered coolly. “But you’re still afraid. You’re so innocent, you’re scared for me to touch your little pussy. That ends now. Your innocence is mine. Your pleasure is mine. You will accept my touch.”
“I won’t,” I hissed. “I won’t invite you to rape me.”
“I will never rape you,” he replied calmly. “And I won’t fuck you at your invitation. You will beg and weep for my cock before I give you what you want
.”
I shuddered in his arms, completely overwhelmed. In the space of a day, I’d been stripped of my rights, my dignity. And the way he spoke about breaking me with such calm assurance rocked me to my core. In his mind, my surrender was a foregone conclusion.
Fuck. That. He might spank me, but I could handle it. A little sting on my flesh wasn’t going to break me. I glared up at him, defiant.
“Go ahead and punish me, then,” I challenged. “You can spank me all you want, but I’ll never beg you to violate me.”
One corner of his lips ticked up with perverse amusement. “I do enjoy a challenge,” he purred, his pupils dilating. I felt his cock stiffen against my belly. He leaned down, his lips skimming across my cheek before tickling the shell of my ear. “You enjoyed your spanking, so it’s hardly a punishment,” he said, the whispered words threading through my mind, reaching deep inside and revealing the truth that I didn’t want to acknowledge. “But that’s not what I have planned for you. You owe me an orgasm. Your first. I want it. I’m going to make you come hard, so your body has no doubt that I’m your Master. I can give you pleasure. I can give you pain. Obedience is taught through discipline: punishment and reward. It’s time you learned exactly what that means.”
I trembled, my heart hammering in my chest. I hadn’t realized that I’d stopped struggling. He was too strong, too powerful. And his crass words overwhelmed me more effectively than any physical show of force.
His erection pressed against me, thick and hard. “Do you feel what you do to me, sirenita?” he asked, his voice rough with lust. “You are so beautiful when you’re like this; your little body shuddering in my arms. Are you frightened? Or aroused?” His teeth nipped at my ear, and I sucked in a sharp breath. “Or both?” His hand slid down the length of my spine, caressed the curve of my bare bottom, and dipped between my thighs. He hummed his approval when I whimpered. “Both,” he concluded with dark satisfaction as he found the slickness on my labia.
He pressed a tender kiss against my neck, just below my ear. My nerve endings crackled with awareness, and my skin pebbled.
“Stay,” he murmured before finally releasing me.
I remained frozen where he’d left me, my body tingling with fear and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. I watched him with wide eyes as he crossed to the chest of drawers and retrieved a few items. This time, he slipped them into his pocket before I could make out what he’d selected.
When he approached me once again, he held a length of black cloth wrapped around his fist. I took a step back, wariness making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“I like watching your lovely eyes when I’m playing with you, but this will make you more aware of what I’m making you feel,” he told me.
“What?” I asked faintly, but I didn’t have long to wonder what he meant.
He lifted the cloth to my face and pressed it over my eyes. I closed them automatically, and I felt him knot the material firmly at the back of my head. Panic spiked as soon as the darkness closed around me, and I lifted my hands to rip the blindfold away.
He caught my wrists immediately, guiding them back down to my sides.
“Settle, cosita,” he cooed. “This isn’t going to hurt.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted on a shaky whisper, the words leaving me without thought.
A low, rumbling sound rolled over my skin. “If I were a good man, I’d tell you not to be frightened. But I’m not a good man.” He pulled one of my hands forward, pressing my palm against his bulging erection. “I like having you at my mercy, Samantha. I like when you tremble and whimper for me.”
“Please,” I whined, trying to tug my hand away from his hard length.
He held me fast. “Just like that,” he said with rough approval. “But soon, you’ll be begging me to touch you, not to release you.”
He finally, mercifully guided my hand away from his terrifying arousal. He released my wrists and gripped my waist, lifting my body as though I weighed nothing. The dark world spun around me as he moved my body and positioned it where he wanted. My back settled onto the soft mattress, and I instantly tried to roll away, disoriented and frightened. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, and I was very aware of the heat of his hands on my flesh. His masculine scent infused the air I desperately breathed, until I thought I would drown in it.
His steady grip kept me pinned to the bed. He grasped my wrists again, tugging them above my head. Cool metal snapped in place around them, a sensation that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me; we’d trained with handcuffs at the FBI academy. As soon as his grip left my wrists, I tried to pull my arms down to cover my exposed body. They jerked against the unyielding metal, and his hands returned to my forearms, pressing them down into the mattress.
“Don’t struggle,” he ordered. “You’ll only bruise yourself. I’m interested to see how easily your pretty skin marks up, but not like this.”
His words made my fear spike, and I twisted beneath him. His palm settled over my throat, his long fingers wrapping around my neck.
“Cosita,” he said, warning imbuing the word. “I gave you an order. Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But you want to,” I whispered tremulously, going utterly still. “You want to break me.”
His hand remained at my throat, but his other stroked my hair. “I won’t break you. But I am going to tame you.”
“I don’t want to be tamed. I want to go home.” Tears sank into the black cloth that covered my eyes.
“You’re scared,” he said softly, still petting me while holding my neck in a gentle grip. “That’s natural. But it will pass. You have to trust me, Samantha.”
“Trust you?” I asked on a maddened laugh. It was impossible, insane.
“You will trust me. You will give me everything. Trust that I will take care of you. I will give you pain, but you don’t yet understand the pleasure I can offer. Now, be a good girl and don’t pull against the cuffs.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed, my terror morphing into rage. It was too intense to bear, so my mind redirected the fear into anger.
“Mind your language,” he rebuked. His hand tightened around my throat. I could still breathe, but he pressed down just hard enough to restrict the blood flow to my brain. I’d trained in how to choke a man out, so I knew what was happening to me. If he squeezed too hard, I’d slip into unconsciousness. Maybe even die.
Just as panic began to sap my mind, he released the pressure. Blood rushed back to my head, and a strange high I’d never experienced soared through me. I let out a long sigh, and my entire body relaxed as a pleasant buzz quieted my mind. All my fear, my conflicting emotions, melted away, and I floated for a few ecstatic seconds.
“That’s better,” he praised, his fingertips skimming along the line of my vulnerable artery at my neck. My skin felt electric beneath his touch, alive. A low moan left my chest, and I arched my head back, further exposing my throat to him in mindless invitation for more.
“Stay just like that,” he commanded. His touch left my throat, his heat receding as the mattress shifted beneath me. I was aware of his hands on my ankles, one after the other. He spread my legs wide, and supple leather cuffs wrapped around my ankles to lock them in place. I didn’t tug against the restraints this time. I lay perfectly still and relaxed, relishing the quiet in my mind. This was much preferable to unrelenting terror.
Then he touched my sex, and instinctive fear surged back. My entire body jerked, but the restraints he’d used to secure me kept my body stretched out for him.
He gently shushed me, continuing to lightly caress me despite my struggles. “This part will be over soon,” he said, his voice almost tender. There was something slick on his fingers, a thicker substance than my own arousal. He carefully coated my labia, his fingers dipping between them before circling around my clit. I gasped and shuddered as he teased around the tightly-packed little bundle of nerves, pleasure lighting up my system despite m
y mounting fear. The longer his touch lingered directly on my sex, the more intense my terror grew. My entire body was shaking by the time he finally withdrew his hand, leaving a strange heat behind, as though he’d branded my sensitive flesh with his touch.
It wasn’t an unpleasant heat. In fact, it tingled rather than burning. I squirmed and tried to press my legs together to stop the sensation. The cuffs held my ankles fast, and I was left quivering and helpless to stop what was happening to my body.
“What are you doing to me?” I asked on a throaty whisper.
His fingers trailed beneath my breasts, spiraling upward and inward until they reached my peaked nipples. The same slick substance coated the tight buds.
“This is arousal cream,” he told me. “Not that you need it to feel pleasure. You’ve already soaked my hand when I’ve spanked you. This is to help you get past the fear. Soon, you’ll be desperate for me to touch your pretty pussy. You’ll beg for me to grant you release. Need will outweigh fear. Then we can move forward with your training.”
“I don’t want to be trained,” I protested on a whine. The same tingling had set in around my nipples, making me squirm as my body instinctively sought stimulation.
He chuckled. “Most wild things don’t. And you are a wild thing, aren’t you? You’re innocent, untouched. But your body hungers to feel pleasure. Once we get past your fears, I suspect you’ll be a very greedy girl. You’ll crave my touch. You’ve already responded so well to your spankings. You’ll learn to respond to positive reinforcement, as well.”
“You make it sound like I’m an animal,” I forced out, trying to ignore the heat that flared between my legs. “I’m not.”
“No, you’re not,” he agreed, his hands skimming down my sides, tracing the slight flare of my hips. “You’re a woman. But you’re mine. That means you’re whatever I want you to be. My plaything, my pet. Your sole purpose is to please me, to serve me. I’m your Master now, and it’s time you understood what that means.”
“But I—”
“Shhh.” He blew a stream of cool air over my nipples as he shushed me, and my protest ended on a soft cry as the tight peaks lit up with sensation. My back arched, offering my breasts up to him. His approving rumble vibrated against my skin as he pressed his lips against the soft swells, leaving feather-light kisses in a random, scorching pattern across my flesh. A strange, strangled sound left my chest, and rational thought evaporated.
