by Liz K. Lorde
I don’t want to give Leo the pleasure of knowing how frightened I am, so I keep my jaw clenched and chin up. He can’t see me break, even though I’m sure he knows already.
Leo’s whole body leans closer, until our chests are just brushing, and I feel his shirt brush against my nipples through my lacy bra. The friction is making me wetter, and if I were in another situation then, I would jump his bones.
But I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
Yet Leo doesn’t stop leaning in, though he was close to me before. Now his nose strokes against my cheek slightly, and his lips are millimeters from mine. I can smell champagne on his breath—and the memory makes me a little bit nauseated for a second, though I push through it.
He’s going to kiss me, and there’s nowhere for me to move my face away.
But then, he stops.
I can feel Leo’s breath on my skin, and I can practically feel his heartbeat through his shirt.
“I’m an asshole, but I’m not that asshole,” he says, looking me in the eye. “An hour ago, I might have done it. I’m still not entirely sure that I won’t. But not here, not now.”
“Thank you,” I say, not able to meet his gaze.
“Basic fucking decency. You shouldn’t have to thank anyone for that.”
I say nothing as he shrugs off his leather jacket and puts it around my shoulders, giving me some modicum of decency as Leo then pulls me on to the back of a motorbike that isn’t too far away from us.
He climbs on, too, and kicks the engine into life. It roars beneath us, and Leo drives off into the city.
God only knows where he’s taking me.
Chapter 7
Leo
What did I do that for?
I’ve done some dumb shit in my life, but, Jesus, this really takes the cake.
I had one last job to do, then I was free. I had two million dollars burning a hole in my pocket that I was ready to spend on starting up my own business, and I blew it.
I had a chance to turn my whole life around. To finally get out from under Oberon Lawson’s thumb and be my own man—a man who’s not forced to do other people’s dirty work. Instead, I just waved goodbye to two million dollars, and for what?
To bail out a spoiled little rich girl and protect her from the consequences of her own mistakes, as no doubt her rich daddy has been doing for her entire life.
But I don’t imagine that Kristen’s daddy has ever had to buy her freedom from a room full of perverts.
Those guys make my skin crawl. They spend stupid amounts of money just to buy girls and fuck them because they’d never be able to touch a woman that hot otherwise. They want to break those poor girls, just so they can feel like men.
It’s pathetic.
All the times I’ve had to do it for Lawson, not once have I ever really been okay with it all. No girl deserves that kind of life—even the ones who are into being a slave and having some lecherous old man telling them what to do.
But Kristen definitely didn’t seem like she’d enjoy playing maid and mistress to those creeps, so I had no other choice. I’ll just have to kiss those dreams of an early retirement goodbye, and settle for something that pays for a lot less: being the good guy.
I always knew that ‘nice guys finish last’ but that it was always worth being the good guy anyway. But at what cost?
Now, I’m stuck with my ‘purchase’ without any chance of exchange or return. I can’t even take the chance to really ‘get’ Kristen, to fuck her like I really do want to.
I mean, I could. As I just proved by pinning her up against the wall like that, no one would stop me, even if she screamed.
But I don’t need someone else to stop me, because I know that I can’t, and that I shouldn’t. Despite what her body is saying—because honestly, she’s so fucking wet for me right now—Kristen’s lips are telling me, “No.”
Kristen can think that I’m the bad guy—I mean, I am the bad guy. I kidnapped her and brought her here to be sold off in the first place. But, I’m not the kind of bad guy who sleeps with women who don’t give me consent.
I’m not one of those assholes, and I never will be.
That being said…the feeling of her body pressed up against mine as my motorbike tears through the streets is really turning me on. Kristen’s pushing herself up against me desperately, and I know that her bridesmaid’s dress—or what’s left of it—is flapping in the wind as I cut around corners to take her back to my place.
I wonder how she feels about having my jacket around her shoulders, feeling the soft lining brush against her bare skin and knowing that I was the one who was just wearing it.
Then, I begin to think about how it might feel to touch her skin for myself…I could have done it earlier, when she pushed up against the wall and was powerless beneath me, but I didn’t. I couldn’t indulge myself like that—to trace my hands up against her smooth skin until I get to her breasts.
They were, after all, practically spilling out of her bra—Kristen clearly knows what lingerie suits her, and she dresses to impress even when she’s forced to wear something hideous.
But when she’s dressed in lingerie like that, it’d be so easy to just pull her breasts out of the top of her bra, to squeeze them and play with them.
I can imagine her face when my finger rolls over her nipple. She’d look surprised—almost innocent—and even if she was trying to appear like she hated me, I know there’d be a little moan of pleasure that betrays her.
I could pay with Kristen’s breasts, kiss them and move up her neck—but I would purposefully avoid her lips so that I can hear her whimper, moan and then beg for me.
I would make her writhe in pleasure under my touch, and then I’d pin her against the wall again, with my leg between hers, so that I could watch her grind down against my thigh, trying to give herself pleasure.
And, when Kristen’s truly desperate for me—once I make her beg for me to fuck her after teasing and playing with her for so long, it’d be so easy to pick her up and push her panties to the side before making her come over and over again, until her knees give out and I need to carry her to bed.
Where maybe I’ll eat her out while she’s exhausted, pushing her to have more orgasms than any other man could give her.
As I drive us back to my place, I picture all the places that I could have my way with Kristen. My cock is rock hard and aching in my jeans, but I have to ignore it.
Because I could. I could throw Kristen down on the sofa and fuck her until she can’t take any more. But I can’t.
She has to want it, and, right now, she clearly doesn’t.
I could make her want it. But I won’t.
Kristen has to want me of her own accord, and not because I’m pressed up against her, pushing all the right buttons.
So, for the rest of the drive, I try to think instead about my reaction if I saw Lawson, spread for me, begging for me to take him. It’s enough to take my hard on away quickly, and it leaves me clear headed as I pull up outside my house.
I don’t live anywhere too flashy—after all, I’d been saving for a fresh start. But it’s nice, better than what most people can afford, and I’ve always had a taste for the finer things.
I look around briefly, instinctively checking to see if anyone was watching or had been following me. But they’re not—this is private property, and I know how to keep people out.
“Come on, then, princess.”
I take Kristen by her two handcuffed hands, helping her hold her dress together and regain some decency, before leading her towards the front door. She has nowhere to run to, so I lower my hold on her hands as I push her inside the house.
“So, this is where I—you’ll be staying, for now, I guess.”
I step forward and close the door, before motioning for Kristen to follow me. Her heels clack against my laminate flooring as I show her around the ground floor.
Kristen takes a breath behind me, but I don’t turn to look. She’s prob
ably just sulking and trying to get my attention with a tantrum.
“So, the kitchen is through there, along with a downstairs bathroom and a conservatory. That way is the living room and then upstairs is my bedroom, the guest bedroom.” I shrug and pause, looking out the windows and over the garden.
“Each bathroom has an en suite, and there’s a main bathroom, too, as well an office…I guess if you want anything special in the fridge, then I can buy it for you…”
Kristen huffs again, her breath shuddering slightly.
That’s when I turn around and finally give her the attention she’s been trying to get with her tantrum.
Except, she’s not throwing a tantrum.
She’s fucking crying.
It’s obvious she’s trying not to—but with the gag in her mouth it’s harder for her to regulate her breathing, and the fact that the gag is also becoming spotted with tears makes it impossible to hide since the fabric changes color when wet.
Yet, I still let the world’s dumbest question cross my lips. “Are you—are you crying? For real?”
Kristen turns her head away from me, and I watch her as another lonely teardrop falls from the end of her long lashes and cascades down her cheek.
“No!” she says through the gag, trying to articulate but failing.
I nod my head and raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Uh-huh, sure you aren’t.”
I can’t believe myself. I’ve been so wrapped up in what saving Kristen has cost me—the literal two million dollars and my chance at a fresh start—that I’ve completely ignored what it must be like to be in her shoes.
Chapter 8
Kristen
Fuck Leo.
Fuck Oberon Lawson.
Fuck all those dirty perverts who were waving money in the air as though I was a nothing but a sex doll that needed an attitude adjustment.
I thought I was going to get laid tonight, not roofied and kidnapped and threatened before being taken away to this stranger’s house without being told what he’s going to do to me when I get there.
So, if I was crying, it’d be totally understandable as to why.
But I’m not fucking crying.
I’m not.
It’s allergies. He clearly got his grass cut earlier, and my eyes are watering from all the pollen in the air or whatever.
I keep my head turned away from Leo, trying not to let him look at me now that he’s finally decided to pay attention to me again. How can he just be showing me around his house like I’m a guest and not his new personal fucking slave?
Having my favorite food in the fridge is not going to make up for the fact he just told me my life and freedom are only worth two million dollars.
“I’m not crying,” I repeat again, trying to spit the words through the gag.
“Of course. I must have a salty leak in my ceiling.” Leo sighs and takes a step toward me.
He’s made it clear we’re no longer playing a sexy game of cat and mouse, and that he thinks I’m just some stupid little girl who expects the whole world to fall at my feet.
So, as his hands reach out toward me, my whole body stiffens and every muscle in my body tenses. I might be handcuffed, but I can still kick off my shoes and run as fast as I can.
I’d just need to get to the end of the driveway and hope someone sees me—who wouldn’t pity a young girl in handcuffs and a torn-up dress?
Leo’s hands lift up to my face, his fingertips gently brushing my cheeks and wiping at the dried tear tracks from where my eyes had been watering on the motorbike.
What was Leo thinking, anyway, putting me on a motorbike without a helmet? With the speed he was driving at, of course my eyes are watering. Now he has the balls to accuse me of crying.
But he gently removes the gag from my mouth, dropping it so that it hangs around my neck, limp.
“I’m not crying,” I repeat, now that he can hear me better. “My eyes are just watering.”
“Whatever you say, Kristen.” Leo nods again, though clearly, he doesn’t believe me, but he looks down to my bound wrists.
He reaches into his trouser pocket and removes the tiny set of keys from earlier, unlocking the handcuffs and taking them away from me.
Leo looks down at the thick red lines where Lawson had tied them too tightly and is silent for a moment. I pull my hands away and wipe at my face and under my eyes, trying not to smudge my makeup any further.
Now that I can breathe easier, I take a shuddering breath and try to stop myself from crying—I don’t want to give Leo the satisfaction of seeing that I’m scared. He won’t get the chance to take pleasure in how the realization that I might never see my family again is beginning to wash over my whole body.
I don’t want him to know that my heart is sinking deep into my stomach and pushing bile up into the back of my throat and that it’s burning at my tonsils. If I hadn’t been crying, I would definitely be on the verge of throwing up all over Leo’s shoes and down his crisp white walls.
I feel my chest heave, but it’s not champagne and canapés that are bubbling up and about to burst. No, it’s tears.
I can’t fight it as salty tears bubble over behind my eyes and break over my cheeks. They’re wet and hot on my skin, and I feel them dripping down off my chin and onto my chest.
Leo looks up at my face again, and I turn my head away.
But he still pulls me, somewhat roughly, to his chest, pressing my face against his chiseled muscles while his other arm wraps around my shoulders, gently patting me in an attempt to be distant, yet comforting.
“Look,” Leo says stiffly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Sure, you don’t.”
“I don’t,” he says, more forcefully.
“Why—why should I believe you? You’re in the same side as all those other perverts back there.”
“Because I’m not, Kristen. I didn’t like that just as much as you didn’t.”
“You weren’t the one on sale.”
I throw that back in his face with as much venom as I can muster. Leo can bitch about me all he wants, but I’m the one standing here in my underwear.
“No, I wasn’t on sale today,” Leo says, his voice gruff again, “but let’s not pretend I haven’t been selling myself for Oberon Lawson in other ways for a lot longer than you have.”
It’s a tone of voice that tells me not to argue with him.
I’ve always been a sucker for a bad boy—but with a lifestyle like mine, I’ve met so many who’re just rich kids pretending to be the rebel. It’s quickly becoming apparent that Leo isn’t pretending at being bad; he’s genuinely dangerous.
“At least you’re going to be free eventually.”
I lift my head up to look at him as he speaks, but Leo’s looking out into the rest of his house and not making eye contact with me. I could almost feel sorry for him, but the potential for freedom chokes my tears, and I stare at him in silence for a little bit.
“You’re going to let me go?”
Leo laughs once, and it’s hollow.
“No. I can’t.” He looks down at me and watches my face as he sees the hope die and anger takes its place. “What did you think was going to happen, Kristen?”
“Well, I was kind of hoping that you’d bring me back here or better yet to my own house, and then I’d never have to see you again.”
Leo scoffs at me and shakes his head. “You really do expect the whole world to fall at your feet, don’t you?”
“No!” I pull myself away from him. “But I didn’t expect to get kidnapped at my friend’s wedding and then auctioned off like cattle. The only thing ‘falling at my feet’ today is this dress.”
I lift the skirt and throw it back down again, where it hangs limp at the sides of my body, to remind him.
“I can’t just let you go right now, Kristen, not twenty minutes after I just gave Lawson two million dollars for you. I can’t lose face in front of them, or it’s definitely not going to be worth it.”
&n
bsp; “Then, what are you going to do with me, master?” I say sarcastically, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “How can I make it worth your while?”
For a second, Leo says nothing, but he looks me up and down hungrily, then he blinks and looks back up into my eyes, briefly annoyed. But I can’t tell if it’s aimed at me or himself.
“Don’t joke about that, it’s not funny.”
“Well, if we don’t joke, we’ll cry.”
“Aren’t you already crying?” Leo raises an eyebrow and looks at me in disbelief.
I sniffle and snap my head away from him. “I’m not crying! It’s allergies!”
“Oh yeah, of course.” Leo rolls his eyes. “But that’s the point. As much as I can’t let you leave yet, I don’t want to keep you in my house against your will, especially if it’s going to give you ‘allergies.’”
He says the word allergies in air quotes, and I take some restraint and stop myself from sticking my tongue out at him like a toddler.
“So then, what’re you going to do with me?”
“I’ll have to figure it out.”
Leo moves closer toward the stairs, using his body to shuffle me along with him as I step out of his way.
“In the meantime, you should shower…get the stench of those assholes off you. I’ll look around for some clothes.”
“Oh god, I’m gonna wear all the stuff your one-night stands left behind?”
“If that’s all I can find, then yes.”
Leo smirks at me cockily, probably enjoying the thought of seeing me in whatever thong some girl left here as a token for him to remember her by. I just hope it’s clean when he gives it to me.
“Go on, then. Upstairs, straight ahead. Towels and stuff are in there already.”
He nudges me up the stairs, and I go, feeling his eyes watch and admire me from all angles as I climb up to the top.
Once I’m sure I’m alone, I shrug off the jacket and leave it on the floor outside the door before locking myself inside. As I unstrap my bra and step out of my panties, it feels like I’m letting the weight off my shoulders a little bit.
