Sweet Captivity

by Julia Sykes

  He wrapped a warm, fluffy towel around me. I snuggled into it, hiding my face between the soft fabric and his sculpted chest, as though I could simply sink into the warmth and disappear. Anything would be preferable to facing the shame of what he’d just done to me.

  I’d thought I’d regained some power over him when I’d made him come, but he’d quickly demonstrated how powerless I truly was. His punitive touch had brought me pleasure, pleasure I hadn’t wanted but had been wrought from my body by his masterful hands regardless of my wishes.

  He’d claimed he wasn’t going to break me, but in that moment, I felt completely shattered.

  Chapter 8

  Andrés carefully dried my body, rubbing the soft towel over every inch of my sensitized skin. My nipples and sex ached, and my bottom burned slightly, a constant, cruel reminder of how he’d subjugated my entire being.

  When he was satisfied that I was dry, something tugged at my damp hair. I registered the rhythmic pull of brush bristles through my hair, massaging my scalp. It made my head tingle, a pleasant sensation I tried to deny.

  “I’m not a doll,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes closed to avoid facing reality. I remained still and compliant where he’d placed me in his lap. I couldn’t muster up the will to fight.

  “Hmmm,” he mused, continuing to run the brush through my hair in methodical strokes. “You’re not a pet. You’re not a doll. Is there anything you do want to be, sirenita?”

  “What does that mean?” I asked instead of answering his question. He was teasing me, and I refused to rise to it. If I did, he’d likely devise another devious way to prove to me that I would be whatever he wanted me to be.

  “A literal translation would be little mermaid,” he said.

  I finally opened my eyes to study his face. Was he mocking me?

  “You mean, like the Disney princess?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “It’s an endearment. It means I find you beautiful.” He traced the line of my lower lip with his thumb. “Sensual.”

  I blinked at him. No one had ever called me beautiful. And definitely not sensual. I was the awkward geek who was barely worth noticing, unless it was to make fun of me.

  “You don’t believe me,” he said, reading my confusion. “Do you think my cock would get so hard for you if I didn’t want you? You are lovely, sirenita.”

  “You’re trying to manipulate me,” I accused, not quite believing him. Maybe he got turned on by dominating women, and my physical appearance had nothing to do with it. That made much more sense. “It won’t work.”

  “It already is working. I’m not lying when I say I find you beautiful. But everything I do to you is a manipulation, and I won’t pretend otherwise. You’re being very sweet and well behaved right now. If I’d known how obedient you’d become when I played with your ass, I would have filled it sooner. You came so hard for me. I thought you were going to pass out. I think you enjoy being manipulated, being shaped into my good girl.”

  I scowled at him. “You’re a bastard.”

  “That might be true. But you will learn to speak to me with respect. There’s a consequence coming for that, but right now, you need to eat.”

  I almost said I wasn’t hungry, the urge to defy him automatic. But my stomach was very aware that I hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. I still didn’t know what time it was, but it was now dark outside. That meant I hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before, because I hadn’t trusted the breakfast Andrés had sent up for me.

  “Okay,” I agreed, trying to sound resentful and failing. I was far too hungry.

  Now that I’d finally opened my eyes, I noted that Andrés was seated on the edge of the bed, with me perched on his lap. He reached around me and tugged at the small food cart. A silver dome covered the plate, and when he removed it, I realized that my wasted breakfast had been removed and replaced with a mouthwatering steak.

  My cheeks heated even as my stomach growled. That meant someone had come into the bedroom while we were in the shower. Had they heard my lustful scream?

  I didn’t have much time to worry over it, because my basic needs were too insistent. A jug of water sat on the cart beside two empty glasses. I reached for it and filled one, immediately gulping it down.

  “You didn’t drink anything today, either?” Andrés asked, his voice heavy with disapproval.

  “I thought you might drug me again,” I reminded him.

  “And you believe I won’t now?”

  I shrugged. “I figured that steak is huge enough for two people. There are two glasses, one water jug. So I’m assuming that you’re not going to drug yourself too, you know?” I poured another glass and drank half of it before moving to pick up the utensils. I was so famished, all I could think about was cutting into the steak and getting some food in my system. No wonder I’d been so weak in my attempts to fight my captor.

  He caught my hand before I could touch the silverware and guided it back to my lap. He also took the water glass from me and set it down beside the plate.

  “Do you really think I’m going to let you handle a fork and knife?” he asked drily.

  I glowered at him. “I just want some fucking food. I’m starving.”

  He frowned, his scar deepening to a disapproving slash. “I will train your tongue later,” he warned. “And I’m sure you’re hungry, which is more pressing than your punishment. I will always see to your wellbeing, Samantha, but don’t continue to test me.”

  “I wasn’t going to use the knife on you,” I said honestly. “I just want to eat.”

  “I’m going to take care of you, cosita. Trust me.”

  I snorted. “You’re not really giving me a choice. Is it trust if you don’t have a choice? Probably not. No, I don’t think it is. Nope. Definitely not.”

  He studied me for a moment, something like a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do you always speak this way?”

  “What way?”

  “You talk very fast. Like you’re speaking every thought that comes into your head as it comes to you. Are you doing it because you’re nervous around me? Is this the same as why you don’t like looking at people?”

  “I mean, I guess,” I admitted. “But I don’t talk like this because I’m nervous. Well, I guess it’s worse when I’m nervous. I just have a lot of thoughts, and they kind of pop out, like you said. My brain is really busy all the time. Like, my thoughts never slow down. I can’t focus on only one thing at a time, unless it’s really challenging.”

  “You focus on me quite intently,” he said, grinning with smug satisfaction. “Does that mean you find me challenging?”

  “It means I find you terrifying,” I shot back, but there was less malice in my tone than I’d intended. There was something odd about speaking to him so earnestly. I’d never been able to hold back vocalizing my thoughts when pressed by a domineering male, but this was different. I didn’t feel particularly nervous at the moment. I was too concerned with my need to eat, and Andrés’ arms were relaxed around me. He wasn’t threatening me.

  At the moment.

  He laughed. “Such a feisty gatita. You’re not terrified. Not like you should be. Then again, I suppose I haven’t shown you what I’m fully capable of yet.” His smile somehow seemed to show all of his teeth, and I shrank back a little. That just made him laugh again, a sound of pure, arrogant amusement. “I promised to feed you, and it’s getting cold,” he effectively ended the disconcerting conversation.

  His arms surrounded me on either side as he reached forward and picked up the knife and fork. He cut the steak into several small pieces, then shifted the utensils into one fist. I supposed he was smart not to set them down where I could reach them, but I really was too hungry and weak to try to stab him at the moment.

  He picked up a piece of steak between his fingers and lifted it to my lips.

  I looked up at him, confused. “What are you doing?”

  “Feeding my pet.” He was still smiling, but something darker s
tirred in his black stare. “Aren’t you hungry, gatita?”

  I blew out a sigh. “Fine. But only because I’m hungry, not because I’m your pet.”

  “Can’t you be both?”

  “No.”

  He chuckled, but he didn’t argue with me again. “Eat.”

  Too hungry to continue resisting, I parted my lips and reached for the morsel with my tongue. I probably should have bitten him just for being a bastard, but I really wanted to eat. Besides, he’d mentioned another punishment and warned me not to test him. Biting him probably counted as worse than testing.

  As soon as the steak hit my tongue, rich flavors exploded in my mouth, and a soft moan of appreciation left my chest. I loved a good steak, and this one was cooked to perfection. I wrapped my lips around his fingers without thinking, sucking the juices from them as I sought more of the delicious flavor.

  “You like carne asada?” he asked, his voice rougher than the simple question should have called for.

  I pulled back from his fingers, and they left my mouth with a small pop.

  “I like meat,” I said. “All kinds of meat. If it used to moo, I’ll definitely eat it. This is so good. I want more.”

  “Greedy and savage,” he remarked, his voice lilting with laughter. “You can have as much as you want.”

  “I’m not savage,” I grumbled. “I couldn’t even kill you properly.”

  “No, you couldn’t,” he said calmly, obviously remembering my pathetic attempt to attack him with his razor. “I don’t think you have it in you. That doesn’t mean I’ll give you access to a knife anytime soon, though.”

  “I’m a trained field agent,” I said, feeling defensive, mostly because I should have been capable of fighting him more effectively than I’d managed so far.

  “Not a very good one.” He said it like a simple observation, not an insult.

  And honestly, was it an insult if it was the truth?

  “I shouldn’t have transferred from tech analyst,” I lamented aloud. If I hadn’t tried to go into the field, I wouldn’t be in this shitty situation.

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “My brother has his own tech team. They looked into you. By all accounts, they were very impressed. It’s why Cristian let you live.”

  “Because he wants me to protect him from the FBI,” I said glumly. “He wants me to save his miserable life.” I tensed, suddenly worried that Andrés might not take kindly to me insulting his brother.

  “He does,” he responded in a monotone. I couldn’t read any particular emotion in it. “And you will. It’s my job to make sure you do. You won’t do it for Cristian, but for me. I want you to stop thinking about my brother and start thinking about pleasing me. And you can start by finishing your meal.”

  “You’re the one who insists on feeding me one tiny piece at a time,” I complained.

  “If you’d stop sassing me, this would go faster,” he drawled.

  I narrowed my eyes at him to communicate my lingering displeasure with the entire weird scenario, but I allowed him to continue feeding me. I ended up eating well over half the steak before he actually used a freaking fork to deliver mouthfuls of the most delicious seasoned rice I’d ever tasted. I might have felt a little guilty that I ate most of the food, but he seemed content for me to have as much as I needed. When I finally turned my face away, he ate what was left.

  He finished and lifted me off his lap to place me on the mattress.

  “Stay.”

  He didn’t have to restrain me to ensure that I didn’t follow as he wheeled the cart out of the bedroom and out into what I now assumed was a sitting room. By the time he shut the door and returned to me, I lay back on the mattress, exhaustion and a pleasant sense of finally being well-fed making me sleepy.

  “Go brush your teeth and wash your face,” he ordered, grasping my hand and pulling me upright.

  I made a little grumbling noise, which morphed to a yelp when he swatted my ass.

  “Go on,” he said sternly.

  My feet dragged across the carpet as I crossed to the bathroom. Moving seemed much harder than it should, my body aching in places I’d never imagined could feel tired and sore.

  I shut the bathroom door behind me and took care of my essential needs. An unopened toothbrush waited for me on the sink, as well as feminine face wash and moisturizer. I wondered when Andrés had gotten these items for me, and I concluded that the boy who’d come in to clean the bathroom must have stocked the place for me.

  I glanced at the shower. I hadn’t noticed before, but a brand new razor hung from beneath the showerhead, replacing the one I’d broken this morning.

  “You got a new razor,” I said when I re-entered the bedroom, puzzled as to why he’d let me near a potential weapon again.

  He met me with a level stare. “And you didn’t break it apart and attempt to cut my throat. I don’t need to worry about you trying that again, do I?”

  My cheeks heated, and I dropped my gaze from his. I could still see the angry red line of the shallow cut I’d inflicted across his chest. He was covered only in the towel he’d slung around his hips after our shower, his powerful form clearly on display where he lounged on the bed.

  “No,” I admitted, my voice small with shame. I wouldn’t try it again. Not because I didn’t want to get spanked, but because I had to acknowledge that I truly didn’t have it in me to rip open a man’s throat. Besides, it had been a stupid, reckless plan, anyway. Where did I think I was going to go after I took out Andrés? There had to be dozens of men between me and freedom. And I didn’t think they’d like it if they found me with their boss’ blood on my hands.

  “Smart girl,” he said with satisfaction. “Come over here.”

  He stood and pulled back the covers, gesturing for me to get in.

  I didn’t move toward him.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Putting you to bed,” he said, as though this was completely normal.

  “I’m not a little girl. I don’t need you to tuck me in.”

  A smile flitted around his lips. “Must you be so difficult about everything? You seem to love contradicting me.” He patted the mattress. “Do you want a spanking before bed, or are you going to be a good girl for me?”

  I huffed out a frustrated breath and closed the distance between us. The sad reality was, I was too tired to keep fighting. I’d managed to get some much-needed calories back in my system, but my mind had been sapped with terror for most of the day. Not to mention the other new, intense experiences he’d forced upon me.

  “Only because I’m tired,” I said as I slid beneath the sheets.

  “If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” he allowed. “One way or another, you obeyed me, Samantha. That pleases me.”

  I rolled onto my side, facing away from him, and curled my knees up close to my chest in a protective position. He didn’t comment on my small show of resistance. He simply pulled the covers over me and tucked me in like a child. It was weird. Fucked up.

  Warm and soft.

  And I was so tired.

  “Go to sleep, sirenita.” His long fingers played through my hair, and my eyes slid closed.

  Without meaning to, I obeyed yet another of his commands and surrendered to my exhaustion.

  Chapter 9

  The mattress shifted beneath me, rousing me. For a moment, I panicked. I wasn’t accustomed to sleeping with anyone else, so the instinctive knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my bed startled me.

  Then I remembered that I wasn’t in my bed. I was in Andrés’ bed. The bed where he’d bound me and made me have my first orgasm.

  My cheeks colored in the darkness. Shades had been lowered over the huge windows, hiding the Chicago skyline. But no light peeked around them, so I assumed it wasn’t morning yet. I hated not having a fucking clock. This room was absolutely devoid of even that level of technology. I’d go mad in here without access to a computer.

  I’m going to get out of here, I pro
mised myself. Maybe it wasn’t likely that my friends would find me. Maybe there were dozens of men standing between me and freedom. Not to mention my massive, scary captor.

  But that wasn’t going to stop me from trying. It was nighttime. Most of the building’s inhabitants would likely be asleep.

  That included Andrés, who was snoring lightly on the other side of the massive bed. I’d awoken when he’d rolled away from me, and his arm no longer weighed me down. If I could slip out without disturbing him, I might be able to make my way out of the suite and get to the exit before he woke up. Once I was in the street, I could shout for help. I could borrow someone’s phone.

  It occurred to me that I’d have to go out in public naked, but I couldn’t risk taking time to rummage through Andrés’ drawers for something to cover myself. That would also make noise, and I couldn’t afford that, either.

  Naked, it is, I told myself, reasoning that I’d attract help faster this way, once I got out into the street.

  If I didn’t get killed on the way out.

  Summoning up my courage, I carefully eased out of the bed, wincing when the mattress shifted ever so slightly beneath me. I paused, barely breathing.

  Andrés continued to snore.

  I exhaled and began to tiptoe across the plush carpet, making my way toward the door that led out into the rest of the suite. I squeezed my fist open and closed a few times to stop my fingers from trembling, then carefully turned the knob. The softest snick sounded as the latch disengaged.

  Andrés didn’t stir.

  I slipped out the door and cracked it behind me, not daring to shut it all the way in case it thudded closed.

  City lights flooded the adjoining room, shining through another wall of windows. As I’d suspected, it was set up like a lavish sitting room. Finally, I spotted a clock. Of course, it was an ornate grandfather clock rather than something modern. Analog. Ugh.