Every man in the room stared at me, their gazes moving up and down my body. The torn rag did nothing to hide my breasts, which meant that I was basically hanging from the ceiling with cuffs around my wrists…semi-naked.
There was no stopping the tears now, the humiliation finally breaking the dam of the last shred of willpower I had left.
Castello stepped in front of me. “Two rules for tonight’s party.” He wiped a tear off my cheek with one swift, harsh move of his thumb. “You will not cry. The last thing you want is to show all these men how weak you really are. And lastly, you will not speak.”
Before I could reply, someone pulled a piece of rope over my head, forcing it between my lips before tying it behind my head. It was so tight the harsh rope cut through the corners of my mouth, and all I could do was moan as the pain radiated up my cheeks.
Castello smiled, his gaze slowly moving down my body. He bit into his lower lip, lifting a hand and dragging his fingertips from my collarbone, slowly down, pushing the fabric away from my breast. I yanked, I jerked, I moaned, but it was no use. I couldn’t get away from his touch, which still managed to burn my skin.
His gaze lingered on my exposed breast before his fingertip started circling my nipple. I closed my eyes and whimpered, biting into the rope that was tied through my mouth.
“I can’t decide whether Carlo was a lucky man or not.” Castello’s fingers moved over the swell of my breast, down to the middle of my stomach where the tear in the rag stopped.
“How many times did he fuck you, Tatum?” He pulled down, tearing the thin fabric further, down…down, the feel of his fingertip dragging against my skin making me shiver.
“How many times did my brother make you come?” From one hip to the other he moved his hand, causing the fabric to pull back, exposing both my breasts. The chills, the fear, and the ache pulsing between my legs made me bite down on the rope. I hated that between all the bad, his touch made me feel so damn good. It wasn’t right. In fact, it was so fucking wrong.
I jerked back, trying to get away from his touch, and the chains above me rattled in protest. But he grabbed me around my hip and pulled me forward, lifting my leg and hooking his arm underneath my thigh. There was no use in fighting him. His grip was too strong, his hold too tight. All I could do was watch his face as he stared down at my naked thigh like a starved predator.
“Did Carlo have what it takes to satisfy your body completely? To make you come so hard your spine felt like it was being cracked wide open?”
With a single finger, he softly touched a white line that spread across my skin, the only evidence left of a craving I had fought for so long.
“You know what I think, Tatum?” His finger continued all along the scar. “I’m thinking Carlo didn’t have a clue how to fully satisfy you.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “What twisted desires pump through your veins every goddamn day of your life?”
Now I was glad my mouth was tied, that I couldn’t reply…because he was right. He was so fucking right, and it pained me to admit it, even if not out loud. Every time Carlo and I made love, I yearned, craved for him to be rough, to be strong…to play. But he never did. He worshipped my body softly, delicately, like a flower that would wither under the tiniest amount of pressure, when I longed for him to use my body like it was his own temple of pleasure.
Castello stepped back with a smug grin on his face, like he had read my mind, heard me admit he was right. It was like he had a direct line to my mind, like he knew me better than I knew myself. It scared the crap out of me to know that someone could penetrate my mind so easily.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Linscott.”
Castello turned his back on me, walking away toward the rest of the crowd, leaving me there alone, exposed, and utterly humiliated. The worst part of it…I wanted to scream after him, beg him to come back, to not leave me there alone. For some twisted, depraved fucking reason, I would rather have endured his presence than the rest of the men currently staring at me with dark, malevolent eyes portraying the evil thoughts plaguing their minds.
If I thought I had the strength to fight him, to play Castello’s game…I was wrong.
Chapter 10
Castello
I sat at the end of the dining table, never taking my eyes off her. Bound by her wrists, kept in place by chains, and semi-naked, Tatum looked like a fucking offering…which she was. The sight of her was an offering to every man present, and judging by all the glances and profanities spewing from their mouths, they loved it.
So did I.
I’d have been lying if I said seeing her that way didn’t do things to me—wicked, twisted, perverted things. All I thought about while I stared at her was how much I wanted to pinch those pink, hard nipples of hers earlier. How much I wanted to suck them until they were swollen, bite them until she moaned with pain and pleasure. I thought about how she would look hanging from the ceiling of my bedroom, suspended by ropes and chains, completely at my mercy.
Fuck.
I knew I was a twisted son of bitch, but it never crossed my mind that this game, this plan, would tease and aggravate that part of me. I was convinced the part of me hungry for revenge would be stronger, that I would be able to do this without giving in to my most twisted desires.
Now, watching her, all vulnerable, humiliated, scared, and completely at my mercy—now I wasn’t so fucking sure.
I tilted my head, assessing her, studying her, trying to figure out if it was her that provoked my darkness or just the thought that I could do with her whatever the fuck I wanted. It could probably have been any other woman, and I’d still feel the pressing need to let go of all my inhibitions and embrace the wickedness stirring in my veins.
Goddammit, who am I kidding?
It was her. It was her fight, her weakness, the fact that I couldn’t figure her out. That was what made my spine tingle and my skin burn.
Tatum stopped crying about half an hour ago, and with every man walking up to her whispering what I could only guess were sordid details of what they would like to do to her, her face hardened. Not once did she try to respond in any way. The entire time she just stared vacantly in front of her, like she was trying to shut everyone out—like she was compartmentalizing. Strength…that was what I saw while I stared at her.
“Will your mother be joining us?”
I looked up as Uncle Gino took a seat next to me.
“This is a men-only gathering, but knowing my mother, she will make an appearance.”
He chuckled. “Knowing her, she would, yes.”
Uncle Gino was my dad’s middle brother. Of all the men in our family, I always thought he was the most controlled and composed. At family gatherings, he would be the one sitting at the end of the table just watching everyone, listening, calculating…evaluating. It was as if he preferred to take a step back and watch from the outside, see what no one else on the inside could see.
Uncle Gino took a sip of his drink. “She seems like a beautiful woman.”
I continued to watch Tatum, preferring not to respond.
He turned in his seat toward me. “How are you holding up, son?”
Surprised, I turned and stared at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m good. Everything is going according to plan.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I frowned. “I’m holding up well, Uncle Gino. You do not have to be concerned.”
“But I am concerned.”
“I won’t fail, Uncle. You don’t have to worry about that.” I turned away from him, irritated and annoyed, hoping he would take the hint and leave.
“I’m not questioning whether you will fail, Castello. I know you can pull this off. What I’m concerned about is the aftermath of when all this is done.”
I shrugged. “When all this is done, then we can finally move on.”
“Will you be able to?”
Goddammit. I glared his way. “Will I be able to what?”
“Move on?”
&nb
sp; For a few seconds, we stared at each other. I didn’t know the right answer to that. Would I be able to move on? Revenge wouldn’t bring my brother back, but it might make the pain of losing him a little less…I hoped.
“I’ll be fine.” I turned away from him and spotted Vico coming in with his entourage of cousins and nephews. There was one cousin in particular I didn’t like. Nicollo Fattore, oldest son of Uncle Roberto, my father’s youngest brother. Nicollo was the same age as Vico, which was probably why they always seemed to be glued together.
I’d always blamed Nicollo for Vico’s rebellious side. Nicollo was one of those friends who would help you pave your own damn path to Hell while he stood on the sideline to watch you burn.
When Vico spotted Tatum, he immediately walked toward her. There was no mistaking the malicious look in his eyes as he stared at her, the way he licked his lips like he was about to tear into a piece of meat. But that was what she was, right? A piece of meat showcased to stir everyone’s appetite.
“You’ve been staring at her the entire night.” Uncle Gino’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“She’s been put on display for that reason”—I gave him a sideways glance—“to be stared at.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “But every other man here looks at her like she’s just a worthless slave they’d like to fuck…or kill. Yet you, you look at her like you see something no one else does.”
Observant motherfucker.
I downed my glass of scotch and stood from my chair. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Uncle. And feel free to go sample the worthless slave displayed for your amusement.” There was no hiding the sneer in my voice. I couldn’t help it. The old man was working on my last goddamn nerve, pressing all the wrong buttons. Like I said, Uncle Gino liked to assess from the outside looking in—and he saw exactly what I didn’t want to acknowledge myself, let alone have someone else see.
Grabbing myself a new drink, I sauntered over to Vico still standing only a few inches away from Tatum, saying something to her. All the guys around him were laughing and cursing, drinking and enjoying the fucking show. What they didn’t grasp was that Tatum wasn’t put on display for their goddamn amusement. It was part of her atonement, her family’s penance for killing my brother. Not a goddamn peep show.
“I cannot wait until my brother is done with you, when it’s finally my turn,” I heard Vico say to her. “He only plans to break you, but when it’s my turn, I will fucking shatter you…after I push my cock down your throat, using you like the slut you are.” He grabbed her breast in his hand and squeezed, causing her to groan and whimper.
“Vico.” I stepped up behind him, but he didn’t turn around. “Why don’t you go grab yourself a drink?”
“Thanks, brother, but I’m not thirsty right now.” He leaned closer to her. “Not for a drink, anyway.” His other hand moved up the inside of her thigh, and my blood immediately scorched my veins as I watched him touch her.
“Vico! I said go grab yourself a motherfucking drink.”
He turned to face me, and we glared at each other. It was the mighty stare-off between brothers, one trying to intimidate the other without saying a word.
From the corner of my eye, I saw his thumb stroke the skin of her thigh, and at that moment all I thought was if he moved that hand another inch, I would fucking break it.
“Fine.” He stepped away, taking his hands off her. Immediately, I felt my blood settle, the jealousy dissipating. Jealousy? What in the name of ever-loving fuck was that about? Why would it bother me when Vico touched her? She was hanging from the ceiling half naked, for God’s sake, so why could I not handle the sight of my brother’s hand on her body?
Vico straightened his gray suit jacket, a smug grin plastered on his face. “We still have an entire evening ahead of us. Still lots of time to sample the slut.”
His entourage of stupid fucks laughed as they started walking toward the bar behind me. Of course, Nicollo had to prove what a dick he was by bumping his shoulder against mine accidentally on purpose.
Nicollo might be family, but I couldn’t stand him.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced back and saw them all huddling around the bar. I was going to have to keep a closer eye on Vico. His need for power, to prove to everyone that even though he was the youngest Fattore man, he had the balls to be a badass, had the potential to ruin everything.
When I turned back around, Tatum’s head was hanging down, her eyes closed. There was a tiny drop of blood slowly easing down the side of her chin from where the rope had cut her at the corner of her mouth. She was exhausted, weak, and bordering on malnourished. But that was just too goddamn bad. The evening was far from done.
I stepped closer. “Tatum.”
No response.
I walked right up to her, taking her chin in my hand and lifting her face.
“Tatum?”
Her eyes opened as her head lolled from side to side. I gripped her chin tighter, forcing her to look at me.
“Don’t fall asleep on me now, little mouse. I need you fully aware for the next few hours.”
A waiter who stood a few feet away brought over a tray of champagne at the snap of my finger. Grabbing a glass, I yanked the rope out of her mouth and saw the rawness it had caused in the corners.
A soft moan echoed from the back of her throat as I brought the glass up to her mouth.
“Open.”
She didn’t. In fact, she forced her mouth closed and tried to pull her face away from me.
“Tatum, stop being so fucking stubborn and just open your goddamn mouth.”
“No,” she whispered.
A tear slipped down her face, and I placed my thumb over it when I started squeezing her cheeks, forcing her to open her mouth.
“I swear to God, woman, do not test my patience. Now open your fucking mouth.”
I gripped harder and poured the champagne over her lips. She swallowed, but half of it spilled out on the sides, trickling down her chin and neck. My eyes caught the movement of a few droplets, and I watched it slowly trickle down her chest all the way to her nipple until it ran dry. My tongue wanted to lap it up, suck every goddamn drop off her body. She was helpless and wouldn’t be able to do a goddamn thing about it if I decided to drink an entire fucking bottle of champagne off her. I could do to her whatever the fuck I wanted, and she couldn’t do shit about it. I’d never taken a woman against her will, nor did I want to. But her? This entire goddamn game just kept on feeding, taunting, and teasing every ounce of desire I had for the darkness, for the forbidden. And God knew she had forbidden stamped all over her.
Fuck. It made my cock hard, thinking about how vulnerable she was.
When the glass was empty, I loosened my grip on her cheeks and moved my fingers down to clutch her chin. “Being stubborn will only make this harder on you.”
“Fuck you.” Droplets of champagne spewed out of her mouth while her tired blue eyes glared at me.
Good God, I loved her fight. It made me want to test her agility by bending her forward, spreading her legs as wide as her body would allow before I sank my cock inside her, slowly stretching her while her inner walls pulled me in deeper.
I’m so fucked.
I brushed my thumb lightly over her full, tempting lips. “Keep fighting me, little mouse. Keep fighting me until your last goddamn breath. It makes me want this so much more.”
Her eyes remained focused on mine, but she didn’t say a word as I pressed my thumb harder against her lips.
I leaned closer. “You need to realize that no matter how hard you fight me, how difficult you try to make this entire process, I will achieve my goal.”
“And what is your goal, exactly?”
For a second, I glanced down at the spot on her nipple where I knew the drop of champagne stopped, then looked back up at her.
“To make you pay.”
If she was pale before, she was Snow White right now.
“How many times do I have to tell yo
u that I had nothing to do with Carlo’s death?”
“As many times as you want, but it won’t change a damn thing.”
My hand inched over her jaw, down her neck. Her skin was soft beneath my fingertips, like silk. And when I felt the vein in her neck pulse to the rhythm of her heart against my palm, a lightning bolt of extreme, dangerous desire shot down my spine, causing my cock to ache like a motherfucker. It was like my body had a will of its own, defying my mind around every fucking turn when it came to this woman.
Down and down, my hand inched, my eyes already focused on the destination. Supple, round, slightly more than a palmful-sized breast with a pretty pink nipple begging to be tugged, squeezed, and pinched.
“Are you wondering how many times your brother sucked them?”
My eyes shot up to meet hers, which were cold and hard as she stared at my face.
“The first time I stood in front of him naked, he stared at my breasts the exact same way you are now.”
My heart stammered, and my lungs deflated as a rush of air escaped me.
“He told me that I had the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen. And that night, he sucked them both until they were swollen and red.”
As if she managed to ignite a goddamn inferno beneath her skin, I pulled my hand away from her like touching her had burned my palm.
“What are you doing?” I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what kind of game she was trying to play.
She lifted her chin, newfound confidence beaming from her eyes. “I’m just telling you the story. The story of Carlo and Tatum, best friends…even better lovers.”
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
She smiled, her lips pale and dry. “And what is it that I’m trying to do?”
I shifted, bringing my cheek right up against hers, placing my lips by her ear. “You think that placing images of my brother fucking you would stop images of me fucking you from entering my mind.”
A rush of air moved across my neck as she sucked in a breath, and I inched forward. “That’s right, little mouse. My mind is filled with images of me fucking you right now. And let me assure you, knowing my brother fucked you does not stop my cock from getting hard when I look at you bound by chains with your tits hanging out. But let me ask you this, Tatum. Did he fuck you like you wanted to be fucked? Did my brother feed your deepest…darkest…most forbidden desires?”
Dynasty Page 9
