Complete Innocence Boxset

by Stasia Black

“You said you’d take care of me.” It escaped anyway, a heartbroken whisper.

  “I will. I will take care of you. Submit to the collar, Cora.”

  It was no use. She needed to harden herself, like he had. Gathering her reserves, she spat, “Go to hell.”

  “I see you need more time to consider your predicament. I’ll come back when you’re ready to assume your place.”

  He was almost to the door when Cora called out, “Wait! I’m sorry. Please.” Even she could hear the desperation in her own voice. “I… I’m thirsty. And I need to go to the bathroom.”

  She closed her eyes. It doesn’t matter. They’re just words. Words didn’t mean anything. And if groveling meant she could get free of being tied naked, spread-eagled to a bed, certainly she could survive a little indignity.

  Because that was the key word to focus on—survive.

  She’d been strong enough to survive everything her mother put her through. The years of isolation. The punishments. The emotional manipulation.

  She’d survived and come out stronger.

  But Marcus.

  Would she be able to survive Marcus?

  A shudder went down her spine even as she forced herself to look up at him and lock gazes when he peered down at her in return.

  “I hate you.” It popped out but this time he didn’t pull back, he only chuckled. It was so wrong, hearing the same sound she used to adore, now, here in these awful circumstances, as he lifted her hair and secured the collar around her neck.

  “I had this made special for you.” Eyes holding hers, he clipped on a chain and tugged. Heat singed Cora’s cheeks. Followed by terror. She had to get out of here. He’d just put a collar on her. No sane man did that. He’d killed people.

  She couldn’t stand being here another second. She had to escape.

  He untied her wrists.

  Steady, she whispered to herself. Be smart. Think this through.

  But her heartbeat fluttered like a rabbit being chased down by a predator.

  Run.

  Marcus moved to the bottom of the bed, the chain tied to the collar around her neck clinking as he went. It didn’t look like he had the best grip on it. He wasn’t even looking at her as he untied her ankles.

  Run.

  The second he had her left ankle untied she exploded off the bed and bolted for the door.

  Run!

  Only to be jerked painfully backward by the collar around her neck. She choked as she was wrenched off her feet onto her ass. Coughing and gasping for breath, her hands flew to the collar.

  “Ah ah ah,” Marcus walked around front of her, wagging a finger calmly. He wasn’t even holding the leash. He’d looped it around the headboard and that was why she’d been yanked backwards so unforgivingly.

  “You really do want to be tied to the bed again, don’t you? I guess we’ll try this again later.”

  “No, no! I’ll be good! I promise.”

  It had been fight or flight—the impulse was too strong, and she’d known there was no way she could fight Marcus. But some monkey part of her brain had thought, maybe, if she was untied, she’d be fast enough to make it to the door—

  “No!” she screamed when Marcus grabbed her by the wrist and shoved her back down on the bed, landing on top of her with his body.

  She thrashed to get him off but it was no use. He was twice her size and before she knew it, he had tied her collar to the headboard in a way that choked her unless she lay very still.

  “Careful,” he murmured. “Don’t want to damage that pretty neck.”

  This time he took the time to pull out real, heavy leather cuffs for her wrists and feet. He soon had her wrists bound. Oh gods, no. She bit her lip hard as she fought back tears while he spent a moment stroking the red lines on her skin from her struggle with the scarves. No, he would not see her cry.

  She clung to the anger and tried to stoke it again. Like a fire. Like a shield. She tried to let every ounce of hate pour from her eyes and kicked out when he grabbed her ankles. But it was no use.

  Within five minutes she was spread-eagled again, this time tied more securely than before to the bed.

  “We’ll try this again in an hour. You’ll learn to play by the rules, little girl. One way or another.”

  She let out a furious grunt, glaring at Marcus.

  He only chuckled again as he left the room.

  It took long minutes for her head to clear but finally she forced her breaths to even out. Just like she used to when mom would lock her in the cellar.

  She would get through this. She’d lived through one indignity after another with her mother, hadn’t she? And all because she could taste her future freedom. She’d lived in that imaginary future and let it nourish her for years.

  This was just another momentary setback. But she’d escape this bastard—and not by trying to make a run for it the first moment she was free. That had been stupid. No, it would require cunning and planning and maybe even—she swallowed hard—it might even require playing along with Marcus’s sick little twisted games.

  No, next time she wouldn’t run. She’d be the sweet little terrified girl he expected. And then when the time was right, she’d make her escape, steal out of town and eventually make Marcus Ubeli rue the day he ever thought to trap her in the first place.

  Twelve

  An hour later, Marcus was back sitting at the edge of the bed, holding out a glass of water with a straw in it. He’d already taken Cora to the restroom and then reattached her collar to the headboard. He’d been prepared for her to make another run for it but she merely followed his instructions with her head bowed.

  She was more subdued than she’d been during his last visit. He didn’t know why he was disappointed not to see the fire in her eyes. It made his cock rock hard every time she talked back with that smart mouth of hers. And even more determined to get her to submit.

  She sucked greedily at the straw.

  “Not too fast or you’ll get cramps.”

  She glared up at him. Ah, there it was. He didn’t bother hiding his grin. He never imagined how much he’d like having her helpless, completely dependent on him.

  Normally women were nothing more than a form of stress relief. Useful for a night’s indulgence, but rarely brought back for a repeat performance. If they were, it was only because they were convenient and knew the score. He didn’t need the hassle or a possible pressure point his enemies might use against him. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father had.

  But Cora was something altogether different. And he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Careful,” he murmured as she choked on the water. His stomach tightened as she coughed and gasped in a gulp of air, finally regaining her breath.

  His entire body had been coiled, ready to turn her around and pound her on the back. What the fuck? He should enjoy the sight of her sputtering, her eyes watering.

  Instead, relieved, he wiped her mouth carefully and helped her sit up to drink the rest. She stiffened but let him handle her. The feel of her warm, lithe body in his arms turned his erection painful. He had to take a moment to compose himself under the guise of setting the water glass aside.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had her right where he wanted her. But instead of crushing her and teaching her the merciless lesson he’d intended, he was coddling her.

  Taking care of her.

  It had been a problem from the beginning. Dating and courting her hadn’t been as painful as it should have been. He’d taken himself in hand every night, and gotten off imagining Cora looking up at him, eyes wide and innocent and so very trusting.

  Even now, he wanted to unbuckle the collar, check for marks, and soothe her sore skin. And somewhere along the line, he decided to train her to obey, being careful to insure she’d bend and not break.

  Because even though she was his enemy, he didn’t want her totally broken.

  Oh yes, the gods were laughing. And Marcus was the butt o
f no ones’ joke. He was meant to be ruthless in all things. Especially revenge. So he would turn his heart and flesh to stone, harden himself to her pleas and wide eyes, and take the pound of flesh she owed by virtue of her birthright.

  Behind him, Cora sighed.

  Don’t ask. You’re not supposed to give a damn.

  “What?” he bit out.

  “I’m just wondering. Do I have a tattoo on my face that says ‘victim’?”

  His brow wrinkled and he turned around to look at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re not the first person to take advantage of me. Oh no. There’s a pattern here. I came to the city to escape it. But look what a great job I’m doing.” She scoffed humorlessly. “The Donahues, then the guy who—”

  “You won’t ever have to deal with them again,” he said before thinking.

  “Oh right. You did something to the Donahues, didn’t you? Threatened them. Or whatever. Still,” she rocked her head back and forth, as far as the collar would let her. She wasn’t looking at him. Her derision was reserved for herself. “It’s always the same. I thought it was just my mother, but I’m sensing a pattern. And the common denominator is me.”

  Marcus forced his fists to unclench and his forearms to relax. She’d been hurt before. Why did it make him so angry? It shouldn’t affect him one way or the other.

  “It started with my mother, and now you—”

  “What about your mother?” he interrupted.

  “—you all think you can control me. And I let you. I’m so weak. I don’t want to be weak anymore.” The last part came on a whisper, as if she was speaking to herself.

  “What did your mother do?” Marcus forced himself to remain calm. He didn’t know much about Demi other than that she’d grown up in foster care and had no family to speak of, then she married Karl Titan at 22 and had Cora a year later, her only child.

  Cora scoffed, eyes to the ceiling. “What didn’t she do? She locked me in the basement, held me against my will. Kept me on the farm like it was a prison. She wouldn’t let me leave even for school or to socialize. Then there were the times she’d get physical, slapping or punching me if I ever stepped out of line, not to mention all the verbal abuse.”

  Cora shook her head. “I don’t even think I’ve ever said it all out loud. But I was as trapped as...well, as trapped as I am now.” Her mouth twisted in a mocking semblance of a smile. “She did it all to protect me, of course. That’s what she’d tell you, if you were ever on speaking terms.”

  “She hurt you?” A storm brewed in his chest. The thought of Demi slapping or beating his Cora… Because she was his. His jaw clenched and his vision narrowed the way it did when he had an enemy in his sights. No one else had the right to put their hands on what was his.

  Cora looked at him a long moment. “I survived it, Marcus.” She said it so matter of factly. “I’ll survive this, too.”

  He was doing it again. Forgetting she was the enemy. “Of course you’ll survive. You’ll live a long miserable life, I’ll make sure of it.” No one would hurt her. No one but him.

  She sighed. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m just like your sister? An innocent, caught by circumstance.”

  “You’re nothing like my sister,” he bit out again. “She died, and all the good in me died with her.”

  It felt good to finally tell her the truth. And it was a good reminder of why she was here and the mission he’d devoted himself to since he discovered Chiara’s broken and bloodied body. His jaw hardened.

  “That’s not true.” Cora strained forward. “There is good in you. I told Maeve so because I believe—”

  “That’s enough.” Time to teach her her place.

  He unlatched her chain from the headboard and held it firmly. She made no protest when he led her out of the room.

  He ought to make her crawl. He’d intended to humiliate her in every possible way. But it just didn’t…feel right at the moment.

  He still wanted it. Badly. To see her on her knees before him—his cock went steel just at the thought. But there was something about her willing submission, that moment when she finally gave in, the feisty spark still firing in her eyes—he was quickly becoming addicted to it.

  In fact, he hoped to see it in just a few moments.

  She allowed him to lead her to the table, a heavy wooden piece long enough to seat twenty where they could eat with a view of the city glittering before them.

  A table set for one.

  A cushion lay beside his chair. He felt the moment she saw it and recognized what it meant.

  “No.” She tugged away. “Uh uh.”

  Marcus waited, holding her leash firmly, pleasure unfurling in his stomach. It was wrong to be enjoying her training this much but after all these years of self-control, it was the one impulse he couldn’t seem to deny himself.

  “This is the price,” he reminded her. Food already sat on the table, plates covered by silver steam covers. The food smelled delicious and he could only imagine how it tormented her. Her stomach growled, an undeniable argument. She had to eat.

  He watched the internal fight play out on her face.

  And then finally, beautifully, she went to her knees.

  Triumph sang through his chest. “Good girl,” he murmured as she settled on the cushion.

  She bristled. “I’m not your pet.”

  “Aren’t you?” The chain clinked as he drew her forward. She waited, chin by his knee, as he removed the steam covers, releasing mouthwatering smells in a rush of steam. If he thought about how close her mouth was to his cock, he wasn’t going to make it through the meal.

  Instead, he tried to concentrate on a small forkful of omelet and lifting it to her mouth. She glared daggers at him. But then she opened her mouth and ate.

  “See,” he said after a few minutes feeding her. “This can be nice.”

  “This is fucked up,” she muttered after swallowing the last of the omelet.

  He patted her mouth with a napkin. “The Cora I knew wouldn’t cuss like that.”

  She gave a saccharine smile. “Then you shouldn’t have killed her.”

  His cock twitched painfully in his pants.

  “Are you done? Full?”

  A quiver entered her voice. “Yes.” She watched him carefully, like prey would a circling predator. It ought to have disturbed him, how much he liked the image.

  Enough waiting.

  He rose and pushed the food plates to the floor before drawing her up. He set her on the table and splayed a hand on her chest, pressing her down. “Lie back. I want to look at you.”

  With a whimper, she tensed, but let him push her to her back. He propped her legs open and reseated himself. He had a full view of her private parts...everything. She was delectable. Her scent intoxicating. His breath puffed over her folds and he saw her shiver. She tried to close her legs, but his shoulders nudged them open.

  Her beautiful virgin pussy. Wet and glistening for him. He licked his lips, his erection painful now. More than anything, he wanted to stand up, rip off his buckle and plunge into her wet depths. The thought of how tight she would be tormented him. He could barely sleep last night and he’d had to take himself in hand twice more before finally entering her room again this morning.

  He traced her plump labia with his forefinger. “Tell me, do you touch yourself often?”

  She looked stubbornly at the ceiling but her cheeks flamed pink and as he began to probe inside, even more heated juice spilled onto his fingers.

  “So ready for me,” he murmured.

  She cursed him under her breath.

  His fingers bit into her thighs. “Excuse me? What was that?”

  “You heard me.” He also heard how her voice quavered.

  “I don’t think you understand the nature of your situation. This,” he covered her pussy with his palm and didn’t miss the way she squirmed against him. So responsive. It drove him insane. “This is mine.”

  “So is
this,” he shoved two fingers in her mouth. Her eyes widened. “You eat when I tell you, speak when I tell you, kneel when I tell you. And you don’t talk back. If you need to learn the lesson, I’m happy to teach you.” He removed his fingers, wiping them on her midriff before burying his face in her cunt.

  She squealed and her legs went tense around his head before relaxing and flopping open a moment later.

  The sounds that came from her throat were fucking indecent. And the way she tasted. Ambrosia. The gods wished they could have feasted on her.

  But she was his.

  All his. Only his. Forever his.

  And he was going to take her and make her his wife in every way possible so she never forgot it.

  He thrust his chair back and stood up. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

  His condoms were in the bathroom. She’d gotten a birth control shot before the wedding, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The fact that he could even think straight enough to remember was a damn miracle. But he’d sworn never to bring a child into this fucked up world and not even Cora’s magic pussy was enough to make him forget that most basic tenant of his life.

  He stormed out of the room, only barely keeping himself from all out running. Finally, he’d sink his cock inside her. Maybe it would finally quiet the insanity she created in him. Yes, once he had her, her siren pull would ease. He’d be able to think clearly again. He could go back to the original plan.

  He grabbed a condom from the box in his bathroom, on second thought grabbed two more, then turned to head back toward the dining room.

  He’d imagined it a thousand times, what it would feel like to finally sink balls deep into her delectable pussy. And now he was only moments away from—

  But Cora was scrambling toward the front door, chain in hand, all but tripping over her own feet in her haste to get there before he got back.

  Marcus was across the room in four strides.

  She screamed when he locked his arms around her from behind. So tight he probably knocked the breath out of her, but he didn’t care.

  She thought she could run from him? She thought she could escape?

  She flailed and slammed her elbow back. Fuck. He couldn’t help the, “oof” that escaped his mouth. It hurt. But he didn’t let her go. He would never fucking let her go. And soon she’d realize it because it was a lesson he wouldn’t let her ever forget.