Claiming My Sweet Captive

by Julia Sykes

I ran through my brother’s building and out into the parking garage, flinging myself into my black Jaguar and ordering my driver to speed back to my home. My body vibrated with violent tension as I rode in the backseat, impotent and powerless to defend her immediately. If I could have gotten to her faster by running across the city, I would have. As it was, all I could do was wait and try not to punch through the car window to siphon off some of my rage.

  When I reached my building, I took the stairs two at a time to get to the third floor, unable to wait for the elevator. I had to stay in motion, had to get to her.

  I burst into the brothel, kicking the door off its hinges. Samantha was naked, surrounded by men. Ben—the boy who’d threatened her in my suite when I’d first captured her—fondled her breasts. His eyes barely moved from her body to my face by the time I closed the distance between us. I bracketed his skull with my hands and snapped his neck with one jerk of my arms.

  I dropped his lifeless body and rounded on the other men. They all backed away. I positioned myself in front of her, blocking her nakedness from their lascivious stares.

  “Who else touched her?” I roared, preparing to tear my way through all of them. “Who?”

  “N-no one.” Lauren’s voice was a high squeak. “I’m sorry, Master Andrés. I’m so sorry.”

  “Do not speak to me.” I bit out each word. The girl had betrayed me. She’d let them look at Samantha. She’d let the boy touch what was mine. “You’re lucky I don’t snap your neck, too.”

  Lauren heaved out a despairing sob and wisely fled the room.

  “Master Andrés,” Samantha said with distaste. “I don’t like that she calls you Master.”

  The sound of my name on her tongue called my full attention to her. My fury didn’t dissipate, but the need to shield her from their eyes overcame my need to destroy every man in the room. My muscles were still tense with the imperative to punish, but I handled her carefully as I picked her up and carried her out of the brothel. The smell of sex followed us, and I knew Samantha was experiencing artificial lust as a result of the Bliss. She’d have no control over her body right now. She’d obey any order, do any depraved act that was asked of her.

  “You’re not hers,” she murmured as I stepped into the elevator. She snuggled into my chest, rubbing against me like a needy kitten. “You’re mine. My Master.” She giggled. “Isn’t that funny? I always wanted a Master. And you’re mine.”

  My stomach twisted.

  Master.

  I’d craved to hear that title fall from her lips. Now, it made nausea curl up my throat. Once, I’d desired her mindless devotion, her absolute, unquestioning obedience. The little sex doll in my arms would comply with my every deviant order.

  But it wouldn’t be real. She wouldn’t be willing. She wouldn’t be Samantha.

  And she’d hate me for using her when she had no control.

  I’d hate myself.

  We arrived at my penthouse, and I carried her to the bed. I tried to set her down. Her nearness and the scent of her arousal stoked the madness that threatened to overtake my thoughts. My body was conditioned to want her, to respond to her carnal desire. My cock stirred, even as acid coated my tongue.

  She locked her arms around my neck before I could pull away. “Touch me, Master,” she breathed. “Please. I need you.”

  Master. She was behaving like something out of my darkest wet dream. Anguish churned in my gut, and I pried her arms away from me, pinning her wrists to the pillow so she couldn’t grab at me.

  She whimpered her desire and arched her back, seeking stimulation.

  “I can’t,” I rasped. “I can’t be with you like this.”

  Holding her wrists in place with one hand, I smoothed her hair back from her sweat-dampened cheek with the other in an attempt to soothe her.

  She nuzzled her face into my palm with a sigh. “My Master. Mine.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I said tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t here. I didn’t know. When Cristian told me…” My jaw clenched as I recalled my brother’s disgusting words, his laughter as I ran away. “I should have killed him. I should have fucking killed him.”

  “You’re upset,” she observed. “Don’t be upset. Make love to me, Master.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I growled, the breathy honorific tearing me up inside.

  “But you are,” she declared. “I love you, my Master. My Andrés.”

  I cupped her cheek in my hand. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t.” Something hot and sharp pricked at the corners of my eyes.

  “Don’t be sad.” My sweet Samantha tried to ease my anguish.

  I blinked hard, and something wet spilled down my face. It dropped on her cheek, glistening against her porcelain skin.

  “Make love to me,” she urged again, arching her back and lifting her breasts in wanton invitation. “I need you.” There was a thread of desperation in the words. I remembered how Cristian had threatened to torture her by dosing her with Bliss and leaving her without release. I wouldn’t let her suffer.

  But I couldn’t fuck her, either. I couldn’t.

  I pressed a tender kiss against her forehead. “All right, cosita,” I murmured. “I’ll help you. I know you must be aching.”

  “I am. My pussy hurts.”

  “I’ll kiss it better,” I promised.

  “Thank you,” she sighed in relief. She lifted her face to mine, seeking my lips.

  I turned my face away. “Not your lips,” I forced out. “I can’t when you’re like this.”

  “But you said you’d kiss me,” she whined. “You said— Oh!”

  Her complaints ended on a sharp cry when I drew her tight nipple into my mouth. I was careful not to use my teeth, treating her gently. Her body would be hypersensitive, and all I wanted was to ease her pain, not inflict more.

  “Please,” she begged raggedly, lifting her hips to seek stimulation.

  Resolving to do what was best for her, I released her wrists and pressed my hand down on her belly, pinning her in place so she couldn’t continue to tempt me with her helpless writhing. I hated my arousal, my weakness. I couldn’t help wanting her when she was hot and needy and calling me Master.

  But this was about helping her, not fulfilling my own sick desires.

  I joined her on the bed, settling my shoulders between her thighs. I’d never kissed her pussy before. I’d told myself she existed for my pleasure, and I’d always felt there was something subservient about worshipping a woman’s cunt.

  When I’d gone to face Cristian, I’d realized I had no pride when it came to Samantha’s wellbeing. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

  Her pale blue eyes watched me with rapt fascination as I lowered my head between her legs. I touched my tongue to her wet folds, and a low groan left my chest. I never could have imagined how decadent she’d taste, how soft she’d feel under my mouth.

  Her fingers speared into my hair, and she pulled my face closer to her sex. “So good,” she panted. “More.”

  I didn’t need the command to continue exploring her sweet perfection. I traced the line of her slit, licking up to her sensitive clit. She thrashed against my mouth, and my hands closed around her thighs on a growl, my fingers digging into her flesh as primal desire overtook my mind. Why had I denied myself this mouthwatering pleasure for so long? I should have known my Samantha was perfect for me in every way.

  My tongue circled her clit, applying firm pressure against the needy bud. Her thighs quivered in my hold, but I kept her pinned in place so I could devour her in the way I wanted. My cock ached with the need to part her soaked folds, to stretch and fill her until her tight muscles contracted around me. Kissing her like this was exquisite torment, tearing me between the desire to continue pleasuring her and the need to fuck her hard and deep.

  “Please,” she choked on a sob. “I need you inside me. It hurts. Please, Master…”

  I couldn’t let her suffer.


  And I couldn’t hold myself back. Not now that I had her taste on my tongue. Not now that I knew what it meant to give myself to her in every way, just as she’d given herself to me.

  Master. The title burned into my brain, searing away rational thought.

  I pressed one final kiss against her clit before I settled my body atop hers. I freed my cock from my slacks, but I managed to pause at her hot entrance, the last shred of decency in my mind whispering to me that what I was about to do was wrong.

  “You shouldn’t call me that,” I ground out. “You really shouldn’t.”

  She wrapped her legs around me, her heels pressing against my ass as she drew me inside. “My Master,” she moaned.

  A deep, pained sound tore from my chest. I craved this. I’d craved it ever since I’d first captured her. She wasn’t in her right mind, but I was going to fuck her anyway, because the woman beneath me fulfilled all my darkest fantasies.

  She needs me, I reasoned. She’s hurting.

  But I knew the truth: I was selfish and possessive to the point of crazed obsession, and I couldn’t stop myself now.

  I braced my arms on either side of her head and began to thrust deep inside her, claiming her with almost vicious force. My forehead dropped to touch hers, and I stared down into her lust-clouded eyes.

  “Forgive me,” I whispered, even as I slammed my cock back inside her with enough force to rock her entire body. “Forgive me, sirenita.”

  She didn’t seem aware of my words as she came undone on a scream. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she pulled my face down to hers so she could capture my lips. The intimate contact and feel of her inner walls squeezing my dick sent me over the edge, and I shouted my release against her mouth. Wet heat leaked from my eyes even as my seed branded her insides.

  She shuddered and groaned beneath me. Then, her taut muscles relaxed, her tongue stilling against mine.

  I pulled out of her body as her eyes fluttered closed. My stomach lurched as she slipped into unconsciousness, the full weight of my disgusting actions slamming into me.

  “Forgive me,” I begged on a rasp. She didn’t respond.

  I pushed off her and quickly stripped out of my clothes. After ensuring that her breaths were deep and even, I rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water was close to boiling hot when I stepped under it, but I welcomed the discomfort. I deserved to feel pain after finding pleasure with Samantha when she was drugged and mindless.

  I stayed under the burning spray for a long time, until I finally accepted the obvious course of action open to me. There was only one way to protect Samantha from my brother. And from myself.

  Chapter 20

  A few hours after slipping into unconsciousness, she finally stirred. I hadn’t been able to stop staring at her, desperate to memorize every curve and slope of her lovely face. She was still naked, but I’d put on my suit; armor between us.

  She sat up and reached for me. “Thank you.”

  I flinched away, my gut churning. “Don’t thank me. I fucked you while you were high out of your mind. I violated you.”

  “No,” she said fiercely, grabbing my hand when I tried to retreat farther. I didn’t pull away this time. The warmth of her slender fingers around mine felt too good. “I begged you to. I needed you to. I was hurting. You helped me.”

  I turned my face away, unable to look at her. Shame licked at my insides, but I still held her hand fast. “You shouldn’t have called me Master,” I said hollowly. “You shouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t—” I put an end to my pathetic excuses. “I’m not blaming you. You didn’t know what you were saying. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask to be trapped with me. You didn’t ask to be beaten and raped.”

  Her fingers firmed around mine. “You didn’t rape me,” she declared hotly. “Don’t you dare call it that. Don’t you dare.” She swiped frustrated tears from her cheeks. “You were helping me. I trusted you to help me. I love you, Andrés. And I meant what I said. You’re my Master.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I barked.

  She didn’t shrink away from the ire incited by my self-loathing. Instead, she scooted across the bed so she could get in my face. “You did nothing wrong,” she swore. “You saved me. You’ve been saving me this whole time. You’ve been protecting me from Cristian. He would have—”

  “He would have what?” I shouted over her. “Ordered Lauren to slip you Bliss and whore you out? That’s what he wanted, Samantha. He wanted you to scream in pleasure while they violated you. He wanted them to send you back to me, broken and used. He wanted to punish me for my failure. I should have killed him.” My brother’s cruel, mocking laughter rolled through my mind. “But I didn’t. I ran back to you as soon as he told me. He fucking laughed while I ran away from him.”

  “You got back to me in time.” She cupped my face in her hands, trying to capture my attention. “You saved me. You protected me.”

  I grabbed her wrists. I squeezed hard enough to bruise, but I couldn’t bring myself to force her hands away from my face.

  “I can’t protect you,” I rasped. “I’m a coward. You deserve better than me.”

  “I don’t, and you’re not,” she asserted. “I want to be with you, Andrés. You’re not a coward.”

  “I’m afraid of him,” I admitted on a bitter whisper.

  “I know,” she said softly. “And I understand.”

  “You don’t. My face…” I shuddered and cut my eyes away from hers.

  She touched my scar, applying enough pressure to guide my gaze back to hers. “Tell me what he did to you.” It was a steady command, compelling me to confess my darkest secrets. I owed her this. I owed her everything, after what I’d done to her.

  “It was three years ago,” I began, the words bleeding out of me. “Cristian made a deal with some Russians. He started dealing in Bliss. I’d never dared to challenge him, but I hated it. It was too far, too much. He was selling women, just like he sold my sister. So, I decided to stage a coup and take over the organization myself. I’d always been the one to keep the business running. I could do it without him. My life would be better without him.”

  I paused, the phantom ice of Cristian’s knife slicing across my chest as memories threatened to suck me under. I’d never talked to anyone about this. I’d barely spoken to anyone at all since he’d disfigured me. Now, my words were no longer required at meetings with allies and enemies; my ruined face was threat enough of Cristian’s retribution against those who crossed him.

  “He found out,” she surmised, quietly urging me to continue.

  My jaw clenched. “One of my men betrayed me. Cristian came for me before I made a move against him. He strung me up in front of all of our people—the ones he hadn’t killed for following me. He cut me. He made me scream. He humiliated me. Then, he stitched me up himself to make sure the marks lasted.” An acidic tang washed over my tongue, and I swallowed back my nausea.

  Samantha’s face was pale, devoid of the pretty flush I loved so much. “Andrés…” She said my name shakily before leaning in and brushing her lips over the deep furrow in my cheek. “I love you,” she said with the weight of an oath. “We’re going to get away from your brother. Together.”

  Anguish twined around my heart. Yes, I’d get her away from Cristian. “I have something for you,” I said instead of responding to her fervent declaration.

  I pulled her into my lap, holding her close with one arm around her shoulders. She sighed and pressed her cheek into my neck, trusting me completely.

  I reached around her with my free hand and picked up the syringe from the cart beside the bed. Her brow furrowed with confusion as I uncapped it, but she didn’t cringe away or struggle.

  “Lauren already gave me the birth control shot,” she said.

  I tightened my hold around her, trapping her in place as I slid the needle into her arm. “It’s not birth control. I should have sent you away hours ago, but I had to s
ee your lovely eyes one last time.”

  “What are you…?” Her question trailed off as her eyes drooped closed, the sedative taking effect.

  “I can’t protect you.” I pressed one last kiss against her motionless lips. “Goodbye, sirenita. Te amo.”

  I loved her. I loved her, so I had to let her go. I’d face Cristian’s retribution later, but I had to get her to safety before he came for her.

  I dressed her in one of my shirts. It swallowed her slim frame, covering her well enough. Still, I slipped her into a pair of slacks I’d gotten from Lauren. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone’s eyes on her. Not even my own. If I allowed myself to continue holding her and caressing her bare skin, I’d never be able to release her.

  When she was dressed, I removed the collar from her throat. I tucked it into my pocket, unwilling to shut it away in the drawer where it used to belong. It belonged to her now.

  I’d thought it marked her as mine, but I couldn’t keep her. That had been a fantasy from the very beginning. Cristian had never intended to allow me to keep her forever, and now, I had to let her go if I was going to save her from him.

  I picked her up and carried her out of our bedroom, past our playroom, and into the elevator. We rode down to the garage, and I couldn’t help staring down at her, drinking her in. I longed to look into her lovely eyes, but that wasn’t an option. Soon, I wouldn’t be able to look at her at all. Wouldn’t be able to hold her. Wouldn’t be able to hurt her.

  This was what was best for her, in every way. She deserved to be free of me, safe from my darker impulses.

  The elevator stopped at the parking garage, and I carried her to my black BMW, choosing the least flashy car I owned. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I’d already had my people disable the security cameras at the motel where I intended to drop her, and my tinted windows would prevent traffic cams from catching her where I set her in the passenger seat.

  I got in the car and started it up, driving slowly to the outskirts of the city. The motel I’d selected was nondescript, the randomness of the location ensuring she’d be safe here for a short time.