by Nikki Sloane
“Shit,” he whispered. “It’s so fucking late.” His mouth moved against mine lazily. “I need to get some sleep.”
It sounded like a dismissal. I blinked, and pulled back. “Oh. I’ll go.”
He looked pissed at the idea. “No, you won’t. That’s not what I meant.” He curled his arm around my shoulders, but looked uncomfortable with the embrace. It probably felt as foreign to him as it did to me. “You’ll sleep here tonight.”
I wasn’t supposed to want this. I certainly wasn’t supposed to have nervous flutters of excitement about it. He was my captor, controlling all aspects of my life, and had admitted he might be a murderer someday. But as he shifted closer and found a position that was more comfortable for both of us, I couldn’t ignore how I felt. Over the course of one week, my perception of Luka had changed dramatically. We were so similar in other aspects of our lives. Would I have turned out the same as he had if I’d lived his life?
19
LAST NIGHT HAD A POWERFUL effect on me, and I was aware I was falling deeper under Luka’s spell. The good news was it seemed to have an impact on him as well. Luka was nearly late for work. When his alarm had woken us both, we’d blinked our sleepy eyes at each other. It was followed immediately by our mutual realization that my arm was around his waist and my leg thrown over one of his.
“You’re really warm,” I said on a hurried breath, scrambling across the sheets to put distance between us. I could claim I was just using him for body heat, but it was a lie.
He chased me across the bed and pinned me down, burying his lips against the side of my neck. He must have known what he did to me, and kissed me that way on purpose. A shiver shook my shoulders.
When he took me all the way to the edge and made me crazy for him to do more than just kissing, when the plea was on my lips, he commanded me to get up and follow him to the shower.
He’d wrapped his hands around my throat while we were soaked by the rainfall shower head. “Repeat it.”
There wasn’t a belt around my neck, and I was confident we had enough trust, so he was only making me repeat the mantra to exert his power. My voice was steady. “You get pleasure or I get choked.”
I knelt on the tile and sucked his dick while he twined his hands in my drenched hair. His deep moans of pleasure created a dark craving in me, and I was only half satisfied when he reached his end. He sensed it, of course.
“Don’t use any of my time to touch yourself today. I want you aching for it tonight.”
After the shower, he’d had to hurry to get out the door, and left me feeling restless and needy.
I was still sitting at the kitchen table eating a late breakfast when Jennifer appeared, garment bags draped over each arm.
“Oh, you’re eating,” she said without giving me a greeting. “I’ll go get these ready for you to try on.”
Jennifer had unwrapped several dresses by the time I plodded upstairs to my room. She noticed my appearance in the doorway and waved me in.
“Let’s start with these,” she said, pointing to the clothes laid out on the bed.
I gathered them up in my arms and went into the bathroom, feeling uncomfortable changing in front of her. I tugged on the outfits, one after the other, and paraded out into the bedroom like it was a bizarre fashion show for one. Two, really. Jennifer snapped pictures with her phone, and texted them to Luka.
The clothes were nice—they looked expensive and well-made. They weren’t things I would have picked out for myself. Some were a tighter fit than I was used to, and some were low-cut, but overall she’d done a good job.
“What’s Goran’s party like?” I asked her as she passed me a green dress on a hanger.
She hesitated. “It’s nice. Good food and good booze, and an excuse to dress up.”
The dress was slinky and much too sexy for me. As soon as I stepped out in it, Jennifer pursed her lips to one side. “No, that won’t work. Let’s do this one.”
It was navy blue, simple and elegant in the front, but backless, plunging all the way to the base of my spine. Lace trimmed the edges where it gave way to skin, and the dress fit me perfectly.
I tried to pry more information from Jennifer, but she gave tight, short answers to every question. Where is the party? Goran’s estate. How many people will be there? A lot. When there were no more clothes for me to try on, she hung what I was keeping in the closet and took back the others.
She glanced at the text message that popped up on her screen. “Luka’s downstairs.”
It was already lunchtime. I grabbed my iPad and followed her out of the room. Luka waited at the base of the stairs, his attention fixated on me, but his expression was unreadable. “The blue dress,” he said to Jennifer. “Does Addison have everything she needs for it?”
“Yeah.” She adjusted the strap of her purse, fidgeting.
“Good, thanks for your help.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile. “She’ll look perfect.”
He used the word specifically to get under my skin. Why did I allow one innocuous adjective to hold so much power? It was a compliment and it made me feel warm and proud, but it also felt like a lie, too.
He held out his hand, wordlessly asking for my iPad, which I passed to him. He said goodbye to Jennifer and then we went into the office. I watched as he hooked the iPad up to the computer so he could download the new videos while we ate.
Did he notice the change between us during lunch as much as I did? The conversation flowed seamlessly for the first time as he asked about my family’s holiday traditions, and told me about his. Then, he dropped the bomb that if I wanted to go home for Thanksgiving break, I could, but it’d be with him in tow. He was my new boyfriend, after all.
“I don’t know if our relationship is serious enough,” I said, “to introduce you to my parents yet.”
He blinked slowly. “Is that a joke?”
“Maybe,” I whispered. “The truth is, I don’t know if I can prepare my parents for you. You’re . . . pretty intense.”
For a fraction of a second he seemed amused. “We’ll be fine. I can dial that back if I have to.” The word we lingered. Strange, but not unpleasant. Luka’s expression returned to his serious one. “Your task for this afternoon. Hold on, I’ll go get it.”
My nerves swirled. What sinful, dirty assignment was he going to give me? I waited with held breath as he left the table, disappeared through the doorway, only to return a moment later carrying the iPad.
“Memorize this as far as you can.”
He set it in front of me and the screen was full of numbers. I gave him a skeptical look. This was what he wanted?
“You look disappointed.” He smirked as if he could tell I was expecting a different kind of chore. “Is this too hard for you?”
“Rote memorization? Of course not. I’m just thinking about the last time you had me reciting pi.” Since that horrible morning, Luka hadn’t been as cruel or scary.
His expression gave nothing away. “That, like the bathtub, was necessary. Neither of those were fun for me either, but I had to break you, Addison.” He sighed. “I had to, so my father wouldn’t.”
π
The house seemed to grow twenty degrees colder when the sun set, but I wondered if his absence contributed as well. He burned hot enough to heat whatever room we were in together. So I was curled up on the couch in the office, the blanket covering me, when Luka arrived home from work.
“How’s school, darling?” he asked, throwing my attitude laced comment from Monday back at me. I couldn’t tell if he’d meant it to be light and teasing, or mocking. He walked the perfect line between.
“Fine,” I said. “I finished a while ago, so now I’ve just been sitting around, waiting for you.”
He gave me a dark look. “I gave you an assignment, so I hope that’s not true.”
I pushed the quilt off and stood, setting my hands on my hips. “You want to hear about your assignment? Three point one four one five nine—”
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“Stop.” He held up his hand, then pointed to the doorway. “Upstairs.”
I marched behind him, wondering if he meant my room or his. He turned left at the top of the stairs, and I slowed a step. Since he’d given me freedom from my prison, I spent as little time as possible in the green striped bedroom.
When I stepped inside and turned, his hands closed on my waist, and he walked me backward toward the bed. My nerves twisted in my stomach.
His expression was authoritarian. “Undo your pants. Everything down to your knees, and lean over the bed.”
My legs went weak. “What?”
“I want your ass in the air by the time I get back.”
He strode quickly from the room, leaving me spinning. My fingers were made of lead as I undid the button of my pants, and clawed both them and my panties down. I set my elbows flat on the mattress and forced myself to control my breathing. The tremble was already working its way up my legs. Being exposed like this was almost worse than being naked. My hands itched to pull the fabric back up and cover myself. Instead, I stayed as I was, staring at the green stripes that were symbolic bars.
I was short of breath as he returned and shut the door, closing us in together. He was carrying a small black bag, and he dropped it by my feet with a thump. His hand curved over my bare flesh, and a soft sound of appreciation slipped from him.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said, his voice low. “Did you?”
His fingers brushed over my slit, making me swallow a breath.
“Hmm?” The fingers became more invasive, and he teased my clit. “I didn’t hear you. Were you less than perfect today? Did you waste any of my time and disobey me?”
“No.” It came from me hurried.
“Good.”
He sank a finger inside my body, all the way to the knuckle. I opened my mouth to gasp, but I didn’t make a sound. I arched back into his touch. It was shocking how immediately the pleasure came. I may have been shy and nervous, but I was also incredibly aroused. He was in total command, and when that happened, I was free to feel however I wanted.
“So wet for me.”
I closed my eyes and enjoyed how he stood beside me, one hand on the hollow of my back and the other pressing slowly inside my body. A moan escaped, and it sounded like a desperate whine. But it cut off abruptly when his damp fingers slid upward through my valley, coursing through my cheeks.
Luka’s wicked chuckle threw me into chaos, and he pressed his hand firm against my back. “Do you want me to tie you up, or can you hold still?”
What the hell kind of question was that? I couldn’t answer without tacitly giving my consent to whatever he was planning. So I said nothing at all. And I was well aware it didn’t matter anyway. He’d get his way.
His fingers stirred over my pussy and repeated their path, skirting a line upward. Maybe it felt good, but the sense that it was dirty overruled everything else. I jolted from his obscene touch.
“This body is mine.” His tone was firm. “Repeat it.”
His dominance had so much weight, I sank forward and turned to rest a cheek against the mattress, keeping my eyes closed. “This body is yours.”
Luka moved, kneeling behind me. My heart was pounding up in my throat, blocking my ability to breathe, and then it wasn’t a problem. I stopped breathing completely as he licked me, all the way from front to back.
My knees went weak. It felt good, but it was horrifying. I whimpered and balled the comforter beneath my hands into fists, clutching at the fabric as my knuckles turned white. This time when he did it, he stayed. His tongue moved at the tight circle of muscles, and I gave a cry of panic. Holy fuck, what was he doing? I reached a hand behind me and tried to ease him back.
“I’m asking again.” This time his tone was razor sharp. “You want me to tie you up, or stay still?”
I was so flustered by his actions I couldn’t think straight. I had no idea which was the right answer, and my muscles were so tense I couldn’t move. “Luka.”
His hands were warm on my ass cheeks, lifting and separating, and this time when he leaned in and sent his tongue wandering over my flesh, I groaned. My body delivered the signal loud and clear to my mind it was pleasurable, but my brain fired back I was disgusting.
I clawed at the sheets as he tore me apart with his ruthless mouth.
My legs rattled against the bedframe as his tongue ceased, giving me a reprieve. I was vaguely aware he was moving. I heard a strange sort of click, but couldn’t place the sound, not until something cold and wet was dripping on me. He’d uncapped a bottle, and . . . oh, no. He was putting lube on me.
“W-Wait,” I cried. “What are you doing?” I pushed up on my elbows and tried to stand.
His hand came down on my ass with a loud crack, and pain thundered up my spine. “Whose body is this?”
I stayed on my elbows and breathed through the stinging heat his punishment had left me with. My voice broke on the word. “Yours.”
His shadow fell beside me on the bed as he stood. “Mine.”
Something cold and smooth like metal was nudged between my cheeks, prodding for entrance.
“No!” I jerked up.
He was ready for my reaction. I was shoved down on the bed at the same time he dropped something beside me. As I scrambled up, he twisted my arms behind my back, just as he’d done a week ago. He secured my wrists with one hand and scooped the toy up, but not before I got a look. The small silver plug had a heart-shaped base, and the jewel at the end glittered the color of sin.
“Yes,” he said. “Mine. Mine to have any way I want, anywhere I want.”
The plug moved through the lubrication he’d put on me, and when he’d found the spot he wanted, there was pressure. I choked on air, swallowing huge gasps as it began to intrude.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice low and carnal.
My body pushed back, not wanting the penetration, but there was nowhere to escape, and the uncomfortable stretch grew. I whimpered as the toy slid deeper, every fraction of an inch burning worse than the last. I struggled against the hand holding me down, but my twisting made it hurt more.
“Hold still, luče,” he whispered. “That’s right.” The pressure began to ease, and the intrusion stopped. “Oh, fuck me. Good girl.”
He released me, and both of his hands smoothed over my back, caressing. It was lodged inside me, the heart-shaped base against my skin. I felt uncomfortably full, and . . . heavy. I lay still on the bed, my chest heaving, as Luka’s hands continued to trail over me. I endured his sensual touch while I pulled my mind back together.
Slowly, the burning sensation began to fade and shift. I could feel it with every breath, but it didn’t hurt. It was . . . odd. I blinked and tried to decide if I hated it, but, no. Hate was too strong of a word. I wasn’t even sure if I disliked it.
“Addison.”
I blew out a shuddering breath.
His command was spoken softly. “Stand up.”
Hell, that I could really feel. I pushed up on my shaky arms, lifting myself off the bed. The fullness and weight was stronger now, and each movement made me aware.
He lingered to the side and his words traveled over my shoulder. “Get dressed.”
I clamped my teeth tight together to hold in the question. How long was he going to leave me like this? I fumbled with my pants, gingerly pulling them back in place, and did up my fly.
“Look at me.”
I turned and faced him. His expression was drenched in desire, and his eyes burned with power. I stood stock-still as he trapped me in his embrace, one hand twisted in my hair and forcing my gaze up to meet his.
“You have no idea how fucking hot you look like this. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are wild, trying not to show what’s going on inside. But I know. I’ll always know.” His grip pulled my hair taut with an edge of pain. “Go downstairs, pour a glass of wine, and bring it to me.”
My shoulders tensed.
20
AS MY BODY GREW ACCUSTOMED to the plug, it became easier to move around, but every step down the staircase made my anxiety grow, just as Luka had intended. Would his personal chef know about the dirty secret in my body the second she laid eyes on me? I used to have a great poker face, but that was cards.
She stood at the kitchen island, a pair of tongs in her hand as she supervised dinner. A pot steamed on the sophisticated gas range, but her focus was on the grill top, where lamb chops were cooking.
“Hello,” I said over the grill’s ventilation fan. My cheeks were burning.
She glanced up and did a double-take. Whitney’s bright gaze scanned me and a smile stretched on her face. “Why, hello, Addison.”
Luka’s personal chef appeared to be in her late thirties. She had rich brown hair, cropped short and it swept across her forehead. I was instantly struck by how maintained she was. The exceptional organization of her meals should have shown me how organization extended into all aspects of her life. Even her apron was a perfect white.
“I was wondering when I was going to meet you,” she said, her eyes glittering. “Luka wouldn’t let me ask, so I’ve been making extra meals in case you have any dietary restrictions.”
“Oh,” I said. “No, I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Yay!” she joked. “Shellfish is back on the menu.” She picked up one of the chops and turned it. “I’m Whitney, by the way.” The tongs were set down and she extended her hand for a shake.
I’d swear I could feel the toy more the longer I remained in her presence. “Nice to meet you.” I didn’t want to seem rude and tried not to speak in a rush. “Luka asked for a glass of wine before dinner. What do you recommend?”
She thought for a moment. “There’s a California cabernet that’ll go nicely with this lamb.”
