Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set

by Black, Stasia

  Thunder rumbles in the distance and clouds cover the sun, casting my mother’s beautiful stone face in shadow. Like she, too, is turning her face away from me, wherever she is in the heavenly fields of paradise.

  I bend over her grave, my tears falling and salting the ground. “Please,” I beg. “Don’t leave me alone. You always knew what to do. You knew how to handle Daddy when he was being impossible and you always made me feel better no matter how bad things got and I—”

  “So now you show up at your mother’s grave.”

  I choke out in shock at the voice and swing around. Logan! He’s standing not five feet behind me. I jump to my feet and start to run towards him when I notice his face.

  His features are cruel and angry.

  He saw. He saw the news.

  When he grabs my hand and holds it up, exposing Adam’s ring still on my finger, I know for sure. He throws my hand away roughly in disgust.

  “You lied to me,” he spits.

  “No, wait, Logan, it’s not what you think—” I start but he swiftly cuts me off.

  “Are you engaged to Adam fucking Archer?”

  “I- I mean, well, technically, but not—”

  Before I can get another word out, though, Logan’s crossed the few feet between us and his hand is at my throat. “Faithless whore,” he spits. “Our bed wasn’t even cold before you were off spreading your legs for him. I was just practice, I suppose, to break you in like a bitch in heat?”

  I slap him. Hard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His hand at my throat squeezes and he moves so that his face is only an inch from mine. And I can’t help it. My body is trained to respond to his dominance. I liquefy beneath him. My curves soften to his hard muscle.

  And he feels it. For a second, I see a glimmer of Logan, my Logan in his glittering blue eyes before they turn back to ice. “Is this how you were with him? Did your cunt soften and squirt when he touched you?”

  He reaches down, roughly shoves up the skirt of my dress, and grabs my crotch. I have to fight my back arching into his touch.

  “I ought to slap you again,” I grit out through my teeth.

  “Is that a yes?” he all but yells, gripping my sex harder as fury flashes in his eyes.

  “No one but you has ever touched me there, Master!” I yell at him, just as furious. I know it looks bad, but doesn’t he have any faith in me? In what we shared together? He wouldn't even let me tell him my side of things!

  He just shakes his head at me. “I can’t believe a word out of your lying mouth.”

  I deflate. So that’s how it will be. The truth doesn’t matter to him. Only his stupid, misguided vendetta. I shove him in the chest. “Then let me go,” I shout, rallying again. “If you won’t believe me, then there’s no point in any of this.”

  He lets go of me and I stumble back.

  “So that’s it?” he laughs. “You and Adam Archer ride off into the sunset together? I don’t think so, kitten.”

  I glare at him. “What do you want with me, Logan? You won’t believe what I have to tell you.”

  “No.” His dark eyes glare right back at me. “I won’t ever believe anything that comes out of your lying mouth ever again. But that doesn’t mean your debt to me is nearly begun being paid. I am your Master. And I get to say when you leave. Not you.”

  What? What does that mean?

  “I- I don’t understand,” I say slowly.

  “You will,” he says darkly. “You will.”

  And then he rushes me, picks me up and slings me over his shoulder.

  “Where are you taking me?” I squeal, banging on his back with my tiny fists and kicking uselessly. He locks his thick arm around my legs, holding them down, and walks towards Thornhill manor.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  Three

  Present Day

  Logan

  She lied to me. She betrayed me. She’s so warm and lithe and alive in my arms.

  The fact that I still want her so badly burns worst of all.

  I bang the front door to her childhood home open and let it slam into the wall.

  “Logan, what are you doing?” she screeches. “Did you break in here?”

  I smile maliciously as I kick the door shut. Oh little kitten, I have so many surprises for you. I swing her off my shoulder and down onto the expensive couch in the front sitting room.

  “Why would I break into my own house?” I ask.

  Her confusion is adorable. Truly adorable. I leave her in her muddle while I walk to the curtains and rip off the curtain tie, first one, then another.

  She shrieks in protest. “What are you doing? My mother picked out those curtains!”

  I nod. “Guess that’s why nothing in this house has been updated in over a decade. I’ll have to call in my interior decorator. She’s a hot little thing who’ll do anything for a buck. Probably even fuck me,” I shrug.

  “Why are you being so hateful? And what do you even mean, your interior decorator?” Daphne sits up and makes like she’s going to stand but I’m on her before she can, pinning her down with my thigh.

  I grab her wrists and wrap the curtain tie around them, binding them tightly. Her eyes flash up at me but she doesn’t protest. She knows where this is going and she wants it as much as I do. I guess Adam couldn’t satisfy her like I can. The thought both infuriates and gratifies me at the same time.

  But mostly it just infuriates me. She’s mine, but she gave herself to another man.

  With a growl, I flip her over and I don’t bother being gentle about it. Her ass sticking out in the air slightly mollifies me. I know there’s only one thing that will truly soothe the beast inside me, though.

  I hike her skirt up again. I plunge a finger inside her. She’s wet and she doesn’t protest. So the next second I yank my buckle open, shove my pants down, rip open a condom with my teeth and sheath myself. Then I shove my cock home.

  “You bastard,” she grunts, even as her perfect peach ass thrusts back up against me. Lying little— If I hadn’t taken her virginity myself, I’d be questioning whether she’d just been playing virginal the whole time. But that tight cunt wasn’t lying.

  Even now, she’s gripping me like a fucking vice. Not long ago she was a virgin and she’s still tight as a drum.

  But what if he was inside her, too? What if he tasted this sweet little cunt that’s mine? If she shared herself because I never mattered more than a passing novelty, someone to get her off—

  I fuck her more furiously but it’s not the same. The condom is more than just a latex barrier between us. It’s what it represents. I can’t trust her anymore. What if she didn’t use a condom with him? If my perfect, pure girl is now diseased because of that disgusting fuck?

  My dick starts to lose its hardness and I yank out of her, breathing hard. Which only makes me more furious. How could she ruin everything like this?

  I tear the condom off and throw it to the floor, then pull my pants back up. She looks over her shoulder at me but I grab her head and force her to face front again.

  “Are you done?” she asks, more confused than mocking.

  “Not nearly,” I growl. I grab her and lift her, setting her on her feet at the side of the couch. “Bend over and grab the side.”

  She glares at me. “Go fuck yoursel—”

  “Go ahead,” I dare her darkly. “Finish that sentence.”

  She gulps and instead, lowers her head. Submitting. I breathe out, barely keeping my temper under control. “Grab the edge of the couch, ass out.”

  She stands still for a long moment, indecisive.

  “You said you were only going to check on your father’s well-being. Instead, you got engaged to another man. A man you know I hate. Don’t you think you deserved to be punished for that?”

  Her back goes ram-rod straight and I know she wants to say something. She wants to sputter her lies again, her fake ‘explanations’. But she finally chooses to do the smarte
st thing she’s done all day.

  She bends over, wrists still bound.

  I flip up her skirt.

  “Logan, I—”

  I bring my hand down before she can finish. And then I pull my belt out of the loops and snap the leather in the silence.

  “It’s time to begin your punishment. Count, kitten. Count and beg me for more.”

  Four

  Present Day

  Daphne

  He’s infuriating. Why am I going along with this? If he’d just listen to me!

  Thwack.

  “Ow!” I screech and look back at Logan furiously. He just spanked me. With his belt. And he has the gall to glare at me.

  “Count. And then say, may I please have another, Sir?”

  He’s stoic. Furious. But not out of control. And underneath it, or maybe I’m imagining it, but underneath all of that, do I glimpse a glimmer of hurt?

  What must it have been like, seeing me on TV like that? With Adam of all people, the man Logan considers his mortal enemy? Getting engaged?

  Logan’s not the sort of man to be able to listen until he feels like he has a measure of control back. And this was how we’ve always been able to connect—this lightning shortcut to intimacy that made two weeks feel like a lifetime.

  And I trust him. Even in his ice-cold anger. He might not trust me right now, but damn him, I trust him and I’m going to show him.

  So, even though my ass is on fire, I don’t drop his gaze as I say, “One. May I please have another, Sir?”

  His arm moves back and he releases another smack.

  Motherfu— My fingers dig into the fabric of the couch and I clench my stinging ass cheeks.

  “Count,” he demands ruthlessly.

  “Two. May I please have another, Sir?”

  The third follows before I’d barely gotten the words out. I dance in place at the pain. Ow! Fuck. How many of these does he have planned?

  “Look how pretty your little ass is when it turns so pink. And it jiggles so good every time I smack it.” He sounds mesmerized, then his voice turns dark. “Count for your Master. Count because I own you. Count because you’re mine and I own this little pink ass. It’s mine. Count for me.”

  I nod and for some reason, I don’t think it’s the pain, tears start to course down my cheeks. He’s hurt and I’m hurt. I am his but everything got all messed up and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Nothing except count and beg for this punishment.

  “Four. M- May I p- please have another, Sir?”

  There’s a pause, and then another thwack, up higher this time, not in the same spot as before. My breath hitches and I blurt out, “Five. May I please have another, Sir?”

  But then comes the touch of his large hand, hot but not harsh. He probes my no doubt pink flesh. I start to turn my head to look over my shoulder but he orders, “Eyes forward.”

  I obey, dipping my head down to the arm of the couch, feeling more completely exposed than I ever have before in my life. Logan could destroy me if he wants. He always could.

  But his touch...he’s caressing me. Why is he caressing me?

  “You’re doing so well, kitten. Taking your punishment so well. Just five more. You’re going to give me five more. Tell me you understand.”

  My lip trembles, but I nod and then manage a watery, “Yes, sir.”

  “Feel your Master’s touch. Memorize it.” His fingers move from the heated flesh of my ass cheeks down, down, down between my legs. In between. Skirting by my asshole, massaging as he goes. My breath hitches as he begins to tease at my sex.

  He lingers, his fingers rubbing along my lips, whispering against my clit and making my sex clench and spasm around nothing, missing his cock. “Please,” I whisper, not knowing what I’m asking for. More of his touch? His forgiveness?

  But my words have the opposite effect. He snatches his hand away. “Count.” His voice is ice cold again, and then comes the pain ripping across my ass as another blow lands.

  “Six!” I screech. “May I have another, Sir?”

  Another two land, one after another, never in the same spot twice, so I don’t know where to brace to expect it. I dance on my toes at the burning heat that feels like it’s searing through my flesh.

  But that’s when it hits me, clear as day: There’s nothing to do other than to give myself over to it. To stop fighting. To give myself to him, in spite of his anger.

  Because this is Logan. My Logan. In spite of everything, I have to still believe, underneath, I haven’t broken what we have—Daphne and Logan. He’s not a beast, in spite of what I once thought. He’s not using the full weight of his strength in these blows. He’s being the Master, still caring for me even as he doles out punishment.

  And to Logan, my Logan, I can trust and abandon myself over to whatever he has to give. My entire body relaxes as I give in.

  When the next spank comes, it reverberates throughout my body. It still hurts. It hurts a hell of a lot. But I allow myself to feel the sting, the heat, and to ride it. To ride it all the way through my body and out again until a strange euphoria settles over me.

  “Eight,” I gasp. “May I please have another, Sir?”

  Hesitation, and then the next comes. There’s the pain, no less sharp for the euphoria, but while my feet are planted on the ground, I’m also floating. Floating so high. My breathing slows, my grip on the couch flexes and then releases.

  “Nine, may I please have another, Sir,” I manage in a rush, anticipating the last, all fear and confusion gone.

  And when the last blow comes, it makes my body sing. For one shining moment, I feel so alive, my body electric, the world and all its worries a million miles away. I’m floating above it all. Safe like a cloud.

  And then comes his touch. Hot where it already burns but then slipping between my legs and stoking another kind of fire. My face drops to the side of the couch. I’ll go wherever he leads me. My body is pliant. I’m warm wax to be molded. “Thank you, Sir,” I breathe.

  “Damn you,” he hisses. “Damn you.”

  His warm heat disappears from behind me. I blink in confusion, still spiraling down. When I look over my shoulder, all I see is him disappearing up the stairs.

  What? Usually he never leaves my side after we— After a—

  I swallow and stand up, wincing at the sting in my ass. My hands immediately go to my backside, but every touch hurts. I want to sit down. I feel woozy. I’m overwhelmed. I want to be in Logan’s arms.

  But he’s not here. Why isn’t he here?

  Then there are footsteps on the stairs and my eyes fly up to see Logan coming back down, jar of salve in his hands. My entire body relaxes at the sight. He is going to take care of me. Tears spring to my eyes but I blink them back.

  But then the jar of salve comes flying through the air at me and I lift my hands and catch it barely in time.

  “I’ve called you a taxi.” Logan’s voice is low and arctic, his face blank of all emotion.

  “I- I don’t understand.” And I don’t. Everything still feels fuzzy after the places he just took my body. “This is my house.”

  Emotion lights his face now, but it’s not one I like. A cruel smile curls his lips. “Your house. But kitten, your father sold me this property, too. All that was once yours is now mine. I own you.”

  His words snap me out of my daze. “Dad would never sell Thornhill! My mother is—!!” My eyes shoot to the window. I can’t see my mother’s resting place from here, but it’s right out there. My mom is here, forever. All our memories are here. Dad wouldn’t— He couldn’t—

  “Your father sold your ancestral home without a second thought to save his precious company,” Logan continues. “Without even consulting you. That’s how much he values you and what you care about.”

  “And what are you going to do with it? Bulldoze the mausoleum and light my childhood home on fire to get your unholy revenge?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Logan rages, storming towards me, stopping only
inches away from me, his face right in front of my face. The scars on his face are pale, but the rest of his skin is flushed and angry. “Your family took everything from me!”

  I start to shake my head but he’s not done, “And you,” he growls. “Bella donna. Beautiful poison.” He spits the last word and turns away.

  His words gut me, scooping me out like an ice cream scooper.

  For a long moment, there’s only silence in the room, both of us breathing hard. We are destroyed things. Broken. Irreparable.

  A sudden ping startles me. Logan pulls a phone out of his pocket. He doesn’t look at me. “Your taxi is here.”

  My taxi. Just like that, he’s kicking me out. Of my own house. That he bought out of revenge. This is so messed up.

  I walk towards the door. What’s there left to say?

  “Don’t forget the salve.”

  I look back at him searching for...something, anything in his eyes, but they’re hard, blue stone.

  I snatch the salve from where I’d dropped it on the couch before. And then I’m out the door. It’s only after he slams it behind me and I’m in the taxi zooming away from my childhood home that I remember Belladonna. The company. The research.

  Everything I worked my whole life for—he now has control of it. A man who hates me and my family.

  I look out the window. It all seemed so important, so vital, only weeks ago. Like there was nothing more important in the world. But now, as I glance out the back window, my ass smarting even though the seat is soft and plush, all I’m hoping for is a glimpse of him.

  Five

  Present Day

  Logan

  I watch from an upstairs window as she drives away. Am I fooling myself or do I see her hand pressed against the glass of the window as she looks back?