Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Because I believe you will be able to challenge me, just not in the first few games. Or even the first dozen.”

  I eyed him, considering. His response allayed my irritation. Just a little. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to play a game that Andrés would certainly win. He already won all of our kinkier games.

  Didn’t he?

  If attaining multiple orgasms is me losing, I guess I don’t mind.

  I shook it off, focusing in on the current challenge.

  “How long have you been playing?” He’d assessed my skill level. It was only fair that I do the same.

  He picked up one of his knights, stroking the edges of the piece. It was a familiar touch, something he seemed to be doing without realizing. “This was my first chess set. I got it for my tenth birthday. That’s when Abuela taught me how to play.”

  “Abuela?”

  The ghost of a smile flickered around his lips before giving way to something harder. “My grandmother.”

  “Oh.” I could tell from his suddenly tense demeanor that she’d passed away. I hadn’t meant to pry into painful topics.

  He placed the knight back on the board, and his dark gaze focused on me again. “White goes first,” he prompted me.

  “I know.” He’d given me the slight advantage, presumably because he thought he’d defeat me so easily.

  Well, too bad for him, I’d picked up some pretty sweet strategies, even in my dabbling. I wasn’t being overly-proud when I said I was a quick study. It was just the way my brain worked. A little bit of internet research had told me some of the strongest opening moves.

  Since he’d made the mistake of letting me play white, I’d checkmate him in six moves.

  I moved my pawn from E2 to E4.

  Andrés studied the board, then made his countermove. It didn’t affect my strategy at all.

  Okay, maybe this was going to be fun, after all. He’d been so cocky with all that talk about how I didn’t have a chance at beating him. I was really looking forward to seeing his crestfallen expression when I made him my bitch.

  This felt almost as good as winning a battle in World of Warcraft. Maybe even better, because this was Andrés I was defeating, not some anonymous person online.

  I took a minute to pretend to consider my next move, even though I was about to win. It would be even more satisfying to take him by surprise.

  I moved slowly as I placed my bishop on C4, trying to make it look like I was hesitant about my choice.

  Andrés’ face remained impassive. He sat for a full two minutes of silence before making his next move.

  Usually, I would have found such a long wait boring, but anticipation sizzled through me.

  I didn’t bother to hold back when I maneuvered my queen to attack his pawn. I clicked it down on the board decisively.

  Andrés grinned, and my heart did a funny flip. That sharp, arrogant smile made something flutter low in my belly.

  He knew.

  “Scholar’s Mate,” he observed. “I’m impressed. You did study properly, cosita.”

  He moved his knight to F6, blocking me.

  His black eyes glinted as he captured me in his steady stare. “Now, we can play.”

  “When did you realize my strategy?” I asked.

  “I suspected on your first move. I knew by the second.”

  “But you didn’t try to stop me.”

  “You were so cute, trying to fool me. I thought I’d let it play out for a few moves. You’re not capable of lying to me, Samantha. You can’t play dumb with me, either. I know you better than that.”

  I flushed with pleasure. Did Andrés really respect my intellect? He’d proven he cherished me in his own way, but I’d never thought he might care about my mind. So far, he’d seemed more interested in my body. Even though he’d expressed that he wanted me to be happy, that wasn’t the same as respecting me.

  “Who do you play with?” I wondered who usually was capable of challenging him.

  “Believe it or not, I do play online mostly. There’s not anyone here I’m interested in playing against. It doesn’t compare to sitting across from your opponent, though. Studying you is part of the game.”

  “You play online? I thought you only got on your laptop to work. There’s like, no technology in this penthouse. I never even see you with a phone.”

  “I don’t like to be easily reached once I come home. This is my space. And if you’re worrying that I’m wasting my time playing chess while you’re tied up, don’t. I’d much rather play games with you. I really am taking care of my business in the evenings. This is the first time I’ve played a game in weeks.”

  My mind chose to skip over the topic of his business. Instead, I focused in on the fact that he’d chosen to play chess with me. He could just tie me up and toy with me. He could fuck my mouth and take his pleasure from my body, even without taking my virginity.

  But he was choosing to play chess with me instead. What had seemed ridiculous and boring at first now made my chest warm.

  Andrés valued me as more than his plaything.

  “Don’t be too disappointed when I win this game,” he continued. “I really am impressed with your knowledge of chess. But I’ve known Scholar’s Mate for years. Valentina beat me with it half a dozen times before I caught on.”

  “Who’s Valentina?” Something ugly stirred in my gut at the thought of him playing with another woman.

  His face hardened again, the same way it had when he’d mentioned his grandmother. “My sister.”

  I’d managed to pry into some secret pain again. “I’m sorry.” Guilt nipped at me, even though I wasn’t sure exactly what I was apologizing for. “You lost her?” I asked quietly.

  “Yes,” he bit out. “I lost her.”

  “How—”

  “It’s your move,” he said tersely, a clear warning not to press him on this topic.

  I nodded and moved a pawn, not really focusing on my choice. I was so caught up worrying over the fact that I’d upset him that he managed to beat me in five more moves.

  He barely took the time to say “checkmate” before putting the board away.

  “Can we play again?” I asked timidly.

  He blinked and focused on me for the first time since I’d asked about Valentina’s fate. “You want to?”

  “Yes. I’ll do better next time. I know I can beat you.”

  A half-smile tilted his lips, and my heart squeezed. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “I have another game I want to play with my clever gatita.”

  He hurt me that night. He made sure I enjoyed the experience, but he still left marks on my skin. My tears seemed to calm the dark mood that had settled over him.

  I gave him my tears willingly, hoping that by shedding them for him, I could ease some of the pain that he kept locked inside.

  Chapter 18

  Andrés kept beating me at chess. But I persevered, if for no other reason than the fact that I liked watching his brow furrow in intense concentration when I actually managed to outmaneuver him. He was clearly a master strategist, which shouldn’t have surprised me, given the way he’d handled me over the last few weeks. He seemed to anticipate my every move—in chess and in the kinkier games we played.

  I should have been scared at how complacent I’d become, but I couldn’t help finding moments of joy when we were together. I’d never shared this kind of intimacy with anyone, and it felt good to be so connected. It made me ache for more, and sometimes I almost broke down and begged him to fuck me.

  I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to beg him for it. That reminded me of our first few days together, when he’d been demanding and scary. I enjoyed the fantasy of our relationship too much to face the reality that he was still demanding. And even if I no longer found him scary, he could definitely be intimidating. He touched me however he wanted, whenever he wanted. Just because I liked it didn’t mean my consent was necessary.

  Was it? He still hadn’t taken me aga
inst my will. He held himself back, even though I could tell it caused him almost physical pain to deny himself what he wanted: me.

  He wants me to beg, I often reminded myself. I won’t beg.

  I might beg him to touch me on a daily basis, but I wouldn’t beg him to take my virginity. It was my last shred of dignity, of control over my own body and my own life. I couldn’t surrender it. No matter how badly my body ached for him to fill me, to connect with him in the most intimate way possible.

  After years of fear and isolation, his touch was like a drug. I doubted even Bliss would have been more effective at keeping me wet and needy for him as soon as he walked into the bedroom in the evening. He’d been right from the very beginning: he didn’t need drugs to make me compliant.

  At times, dark thoughts plagued me. Despite our chess games, it occurred to me that perhaps I was nothing more than his plaything, his pet. That made my chest ache, a sensation I didn’t fully want to contemplate.

  So I’d ignore it and concentrate on potential opportunities to escape. Even if that made the ache persist.

  But it wasn’t like he ever afforded me an opportunity to escape. He still kept me collared and chained to the bed in his absence, and I was completely reliant on him to see to all my needs. It should have made me resentful. I should have hated him.

  But the way he held me so tenderly when he cared for me made me feel cherished. Even the pain he gave me was a form of caretaking; he brought me transcendent bliss with his deviant toys. I wasn’t scared of the playroom anymore. I wasn’t even scared of the flogger. He’d shown me how good it could feel when applied with my pleasure in mind rather than wielding it to punish.

  When I did think about escape, it was to plan for the day when Andrés would give me access to a computer. The day he decided I was ready to work for his brother. It was the only opportunity I could see available to me.

  And it was coming soon. Some of my days were hazy, but I thought my assessment of three weeks in captivity was about accurate. That was the deadline Cristian had given Andrés. I’d been so well behaved, surely my captor would think I was ready to be trusted with access to the internet.

  Then I could finally get away from him and make my way back to the Bureau. Back to my friends. Back to Dex.

  I rubbed at the dull throb in the center of my chest and turned my attention back to my comic book.

  I’d only been reading for a few minutes when the bedroom door banged open and Andrés stormed in. It was the middle of the afternoon. He shouldn’t be back yet. And the fire in his eyes and furious twist of his scar mirrored his expression on the day he’d dragged me to the spanking bench and threatened to hurt me while he was angry.

  I scooted back on the bed and held up my hands to stall him.

  “Wait!” I gasped out. “Andrés, wait. Please.”

  He stiffened and stopped in his tracks, only three steps away from grabbing me.

  “You’re upset,” I said quickly. “I don’t like it when you’re like this. You scare me. Please, don’t… Don’t hurt me.” My heart twisted as the words left my lips. He might give me pain sometimes, but never more than I could handle. He was always fully in control, carefully administering how much pain he was inflicting. But he wasn’t in control right now. I hadn’t begged him not to hurt me in… How long?

  Long enough that I’d forgotten how terrifying he could be when he was in a truly black mood.

  A low, feral sound rumbled from his chest, and his fists clenched at his sides.

  “Please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened. Is it your brother? Did he—?”

  “Of course it’s my brother!” he shouted, and I cringed away as his rage slammed into me. He closed the distance between us and grabbed my upper arms, pulling my body up against his. I struggled, but he snarled down at me. “He wants to see you. He expects you to be ready by now. But you’re not. I’ve been too soft with you.”

  “You haven’t,” I insisted, desperate. “You don’t have to hurt me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he bellowed. “He does. Why can’t you understand that? I’m not the one who wants to break you. I want to save you. I want to protect you. I can’t do that if you continue to defy me.”

  “I haven’t defied you,” I gasped out, my fear rising. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

  “No,” he railed, shaking me. “I’ve given you everything you’ve asked. I’ve tried to make you happy here with me. I’ve indulged you and played with you when I was supposed to be training you. And now he wants to see you, and you’re not ready.”

  “I am,” I squeaked out, needing him to believe he could trust me with a computer. Terror rode me hard, and in that moment, I wanted to escape him more desperately than I had since the day I’d first been captured.

  “Don’t lie to me, Samantha,” he warned on a growl. “You think you can manipulate me with your pretty tears? You think I’ll do anything you ask if you smile for me? I won’t allow you to play games with me. I’m in control. You belong to me.”

  His eyes took on a feverish light as he spoke.

  “You’re not in control,” I said, trying to blink back the tears that burned at the corners of my eyes. “You’re scaring me. You’re hurting me.” His fingers were digging into my arms hard enough to bruise, but that ache was nothing compared to the horrible sinking sensation in my chest.

  Fighting him would get me nowhere. He wasn’t rational at the moment. He was in pain. I could see it in the wildness of his black eyes, the deep furrow of his twisted scar. With trembling fingers, I reached up and tentatively touched his cheek. He flinched away. I tried again, pressing my palm against his scar.

  “Talk to me,” I begged. “Tell me what happened.”

  “What happened is my brother takes everything from me,” he said on a harsh whisper. “Abuela, Valentina. Now he wants to take you.” He pulled me impossibly closer. “He can’t have you. You’re mine.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, trying to soothe him. “I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere. You won’t let Cristian take me away. I… I trust you.” Despite his bruising grip on me, I knew the truth deep in my soul. Andrés would do anything to protect me from his sadistic brother.

  I traced the line of his scar with my fingertips. I’d never touched it before. I’d never touched his face with tenderness. We came together in carnal need, but I never initiated intimate contact.

  He shuddered, but he leaned into my hand. His hold on my arms eased, and he embraced me, cradling my body carefully against his.

  “Sirenita,” he said, his voice strained. “Lo siento.” He turned his face into my palm, kissing my hand.

  “What happened to them?” I asked softly. “The people your brother took from you. Your grandmother and sister.” I didn’t really want to hear the horror of it, but Andrés needed to purge some of the pain from his soul. It was eating at him, driving him to the edge of sanity. I’d known he’d lost them, but it wasn’t until just now that he’d revealed Cristian’s role in that loss.

  He grimaced, but he kissed my palm again, and his arms didn’t tense around me with renewed aggression. He was so big, and I felt tiny in his embrace. But he held me carefully, as though I was something precious and fragile.

  “Valentina…” His voice hitched on her name. “My sister. Half-sister. Cristian and I share the same father as Valentina. Our father kept her mother as his mistress after our mother passed away, but she died giving birth to Valentina. Father let Valentina’s grandmother live on our estate, so she could care for her. Valentina was my best friend. Her grandmother became mí abuela. I spent more time in their home than my own. Cristian was always jealous of our friendship, our little family. As the oldest, father was harder on him. He had more responsibilities, a legacy resting on his shoulders.”

  He paused, his eyes sliding out of focus as he fell into memory.

  “Your father dealt in cocaine,” I prompted, knowing their family’s criminal history. “He wanted
Cristian to take over the business?”

  “Yes. But then father died when I was sixteen. Heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  His jaw firmed. “He was not a nice man. But I had a home with Abuela and Valentina. Until Cristian took over father’s organization. He resented us, our family. Maybe if I hadn’t left him alone with father, things would have been different. But he always had a sadistic streak, even as a child. I wanted nothing to do with him. He scared me, so I stayed away.”

  “What did he do?” I asked, softly prodding. This was the most personal information Andrés had ever shared with me, and I was beginning to understand his warped relationship with his brother. Andrés was bigger than Cristian. Scarier. Smarter. It didn’t make sense that he worked for him when he so obviously hated him. Unless the emotional scars went deeper than the ones carved into his flesh.

  “He sold Valentina,” he whispered, his gaze dark with pain. “She was fourteen. He traded her for money, for bribes to secure his place as father’s successor. Well, he said it was for money. He did it to punish me. To punish both of us for our happy childhood. One that had been denied him.”

  My stomach churned, and my heart ached for the innocent, teenage Andrés who’d lost his sister and best friend in such a horrible way.

  “Abuela died nine months later,” he said bitterly. “Breast cancer. She didn’t even try to fight to survive it. Not after losing Valentina. She left me alone. With Cristian.”

  I suddenly understood Andrés’ fierce desire to keep me. He didn’t want to lock me in a cage like an animal, to keep me as a pet. He just wanted someone who was his, someone to care for and protect. Like he hadn’t been able to protect his grandmother and sister.

  Lauren had been right when she’d said Andrés needed me to be good for him. He needed my submission, my willing surrender to his control. He needed to see me restrained, because it reassured him that I couldn’t leave him. He needed to see me cry, because he couldn’t shed the tears himself. He wanted to care for me, but more than that, he craved my devotion in return.