Keep Me E-Book

Anna Zaires

• Herausgeber: Mozaika Publications
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Keep Me

Leseprobe

KeepMe

Twist Me: Book2

Anna Zaires

♠ Mozaika Publications ♠

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 Anna Zaires

http://annazaires.com/

All rights reserved.

Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

Published by Mozaika Publications, an imprint of MozaikaLLC.

www.mozaikallc.com

Edited by Mella Baxter

Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

e-ISBN: 978-1-63142-020-7

Print ISBN: 978-1-63142-009-2

I would like to dedicate this book to our wonderful readers, for enabling us to live our dream, and to our families, for being our rock and support. I am also very thankful to our amazing beta readers (Chancy, Erika, Kelly, Lina, Tanya, Jackie, Fima, and Fern), as well as our new colleague and editor, Mella. You’re all absolutely awesome!

I

The Arrival

1

Julian

There are days when the urge to hurt, to kill, is too strong to be denied. Days when the thin cloak of civilization threatens to slip at the least provocation, revealing the monster inside.

Today is not one of thosedays.

Today I have her withme.

We’re in the car on the way to the airport. She’s sitting pressed against my side, her slim arms wrapped around me and her face buried in the crook of myneck.

Cradling her with one arm, I stroke her dark hair, delighting in its silky texture. It’s long now, reaching all the way down to her narrow waist. She hasn’t cut her hair in nineteen months.

Not since I kidnapped her for the firsttime.

Inhaling, I draw in her scent—light and flowery, deliciously feminine. It’s a combination of some shampoo and her unique body chemistry, and it makes my mouth water. I want to strip her bare and follow that scent everywhere, to explore every curve and hollow of herbody.

My cock twitches, and I remind myself that I just fucked her. It doesn’t matter, though. My lust for her is constant. It used to bother me, this obsessive craving, but now I’m used to it. I’ve accepted my own madness.

She seems calm, content even. I like that. I like to feel her cuddled against me, all soft and trusting. She knows my true nature, yet she still feels safe with me. I have trained her to feel thatway.

I have made her loveme.

After a couple of minutes, she stirs in my arms, lifting her head to look at me. “Where are we going?” she asks, blinking, her long black lashes sweeping up and down like fans. She has the kind of eyes that could bring a man to his knees—soft, dark eyes that make me think of tangled sheets and naked flesh.

I force myself to focus. Those eyes fuck with my concentration like nothing else. “We’re going to my home in Colombia,” I say, answering her question. “The place where I grewup.”

I haven’t been there for years—not since my parents were murdered. However, my father’s compound is a fortress, and that’s precisely what we need right now. In the past few weeks, I’ve implemented additional security measures, making the place virtually impregnable. Nobody will take Nora from me again—I’ve made sure ofthat.

“Are you going to be there with me?” I can hear the hopeful note in her voice, and I nod, smiling.

“Yes, my pet, I’ll be there.” Now that I have her back, the compulsion to keep her near is too strong to deny. The island had once been the safest place for her, but no longer. Now they know of her existence—and they know she’s my Achilles’ heel. I need to have her with me, where I can protecther.

She licks her lips, and my eyes follow the path of her delicate pink tongue. I want to wrap her thick hair around my fist and force her head down to my lap, but I resist the urge. There will be plenty of time for that later, when we’re in a more secure—and less public—location.

“Are you going to send my parents another million dollars?” Her eyes are wide and guileless as she looks at me, but I can hear the subtle challenge in her voice. She’s testing me—testing the bounds of this new stage of our relationship.

My smile broadens, and I reach over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you want me to send it to them, mypet?”

She stares at me without blinking. “Not really,” she says softly. “I would much rather call them instead.”

I hold her gaze. “All right. You can call them once we get there.”

Her eyes widen, and I see that I surprised her. She was expecting that I would keep her captive again, cut off from the outside world. What she doesn’t realize is that it’s no longer necessary.

I’ve succeeded in what I set out todo.

I’ve made her completelymine.

“Okay,” she says slowly, “I’ll dothat.”

She’s looking at me like she can’t quite figure me out—like I’m some exotic animal she’s never seen before. She often looks at me like that, with a mixture of wariness and fascination. She’s drawn to me—she’s been drawn to me from the very beginning—yet she’s still afraid of me on some level.

The predator in me likes that. Her fear, her reluctance—they add a certain edge to the whole thing. It makes it that much sweeter to possess her, to feel her curled up in my arms every night.

“Tell me about your time at home,” I murmur, settling her more comfortably against my shoulder. Brushing back her hair with my fingers, I look down at her upturned face. “What have you been up to all these months?”

Her soft lips curve in a self-deprecating smile. “You mean, besides missingyou?”

A warm sensation spreads through my chest. I don’t want to acknowledge it. I don’t want it to matter. I want her to love me because I have a sick compulsion to own all of her—not because I feel anything in return. “Yes, besides that,” I say quietly, thinking of the many ways I’m going to fuck her when I get her alone again.

“Well, I met with some of my friends,” she begins, and I listen as she gives me a general overview of her life over the past four months. I already know much of this, since Lucas had taken the initiative to put a discreet security detail on Nora while I had been in a coma. As soon as I woke up, he gave me a thorough report on everything, including Nora’s daily activities.

I owe him for that—and for saving my life. Over the past few years, Lucas Kent has become an invaluable part of my organization. Few others would’ve had the balls to step up like that. Even without knowing the full truth about Nora, he had been smart enough to infer that she means something to me and take steps to ensure her safety.

Of course, the one thing he didn’t do was restrict her activities in any way. “So did you see him?” I ask casually, lifting my hand to play with her earlobe. “Jake, Imean?”

Her body turns into stone in my arms. I can feel the rigid tension in each muscle. “I ran into him briefly, after dinner with my friend Leah,” she says evenly, looking up at me. “We had some coffee together, the three of us, and that was the only time I sawhim.”

I hold her gaze for a second, then nod, satisfied. She didn’t lie to me. The reports had mentioned that particular incident. When I first read about it, I wanted to kill the boy with my bare hands.

I still might do that, if he approaches Nora ever again.

The thought of another man near her fills me with white-hot fury. According to the reports, she didn’t date during our time apart—with one notable exception. “How about that lawyer?” I ask softly, doing my best to control the rage boiling inside me. “Did the two of you have a goodtime?”

Her face turns pale underneath her golden skin tone. “I didn’t do anything with him,” she says, and I can hear the apprehension in her voice. “I went out that night because I was missing you, because I was tired of being alone, but nothing happened. I had a couple of drinks, but I still couldn’t go through withit.”

“No?” Much of the anger drains out of me. I can read her well enough to know when she’s lying—and right now she’s telling the truth. Still, I make a mental note to have this investigated further. If the lawyer touched her in any way, he’llpay.

She looks at me, and I can feel her own tension dissipating. She can discern my moods like no one else. It’s as if she’s attuned to me on some level. It’s been that way with her from the very beginning. Unlike most women, she’s always been able to sense the realme.

“No.” Her mouth tightens. “I couldn’t let him touch me. I’m too fucked up to be with a normal mannow.”

I lift my eyebrows, amused despite myself. She’s no longer the frightened girl I brought to the island. Somewhere along the way, my little pet grew some sharp claws and was starting to learn how to usethem.

“That’s good.” I run my fingers playfully across her cheek, then bend my head to inhale her sweet scent. “Nobody is allowed to touch you, baby. Nobody butme.”

She doesn’t respond, just continues looking at me. She doesn’t need to say anything. We understand each other perfectly. I know I will kill any man who lays a finger on her, and she knows ittoo.

It’s strange, but I’ve never felt possessive about a woman before. This is new territory for me. Before Nora, women were all interchangeable in my mind—just soft, pretty creatures passing through my life. They came to me willingly, wanting to be fucked, to be hurt, and I indulged them, satisfying my own physical needs in the process.

I fucked my first woman when I was fourteen, shortly after Maria’s death. She was one of my father’s whores; he sent her to me after I dispatched two of the men who murdered Maria by castrating them in their own homes. I think my father was hoping the lure of sex would be enough to distract me from my path of vengeance.

Needless to say, his plan didn’t workout.

She came into my room wearing a tight black dress, her makeup perfectly done and her lush, full mouth painted a glossy red. When she began to strip in front of me, I reacted just like any teenage boy would—with instant, violent lust. But I wasn’t any teenage boy at that point. I was a killer; I had been one since I was eight.

I took the whore roughly that night, partly because I was too inexperienced to control myself, partly because I wanted to lash out at her, at my father, at the whole fucking world. I took my frustrations out on her flesh, leaving behind bruises and bite marks—and she came back for more the next night, this time without my father’s knowledge. We fucked like that for a month, with her stealing into my room every chance she got, teaching me what she liked… what she claimed many women liked. She didn’t want sweet and gentle in bed; she wanted pain and force. She wanted someone to make her feel alive.

And I found that I liked that. I liked hearing her scream and beg as I hurt her and made her come. The violence crawling under my skin had found another outlet, and it was one I used every chance Igot.

It wasn’t enough, of course. The rage dwelling deep within me couldn’t be pacified so easily. Maria’s death changed something inside me. She had been the only pure, beautiful thing in my life, and she was gone. Her death accomplished more than my father’s training ever could: it killed any remaining conscience I might’ve possessed. I was no longer a boy reluctantly following in my father’s footsteps; I was a predator who craved blood and vengeance. Ignoring my father’s orders to let the matter drop, I hunted down Maria’s killers one by one and made them pay, drinking in their screams of agony, their pleas for mercy and for quicker death.

After that, there were retaliations and counter-retaliations. People died. My father’s men. His rival’s men. The violence kept escalating until my father decided to pacify his associates by removing me from the business. I was sent away, to Europe and Asia… and there I found dozens more women like the one who had introduced me to sex. Beautiful, willing women whose proclivities mirrored my own. I gave them their dark fantasies, and they gave me momentary pleasure—an arrangement that suited my life perfectly, especially after I came back to take up the reins of my father’s organization.

It wasn’t until nineteen months ago, during a business trip to Chicago, that I foundher.

Nora.

My Maria reincarnated.

The girl I intend to keep forever.

2

Nora

Sitting there in Julian’s embrace, I feel the familiar hum of excitement mixed with trepidation. Our separation hasn’t changed him one bit. He’s still the same man who almost killed Jake, who didn’t hesitate to kidnap a girl he wanted.

He’s also the man who nearly died rescuingme.

Now that I know what happened to him, I can see the physical signs of his ordeal. He’s leaner than before, his tan skin stretched tightly over sharp cheekbones. There is a ragged pink scar on his left ear, and his dark hair is extra-short. On the left side of his skull, the growth pattern of that hair is a bit uneven, as though it’s concealing a scar there aswell.

Despite those tiny imperfections, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I can’t tear my eyes away fromhim.

He’s alive. Julian is alive, and I’m with him again.

It still seems so surreal. Up until this morning, I thought he was dead. I was convinced he had died in the explosion. For four long, excruciating months, I had been forcing myself to be strong, to get on with my life and try to forget the man sitting next to me rightnow.

The man who stole my freedom.

The man Ilove.

Raising my left hand, I gently trace the outline of his lips with my index finger. He’s got the most incredible mouth I have ever seen—a mouth made for sin. At my touch, his beautiful lips part, and he catches the tip of my finger with his sharp white teeth, biting down on it lightly, then sucking my finger into his mouth.

A tremor of arousal runs through me as his warm, wet tongue laves my finger. My inner muscles clench, and I can feel my underwear getting damp. God, I’m so easy when it comes to him. One look, one touch, and I want him. My sex feels swollen and slightly sore after the way he fucked me earlier, but my body aches for him to take me again.

Julian is alive, and he’s taking me away again.

As that fact begins to sink in, I pull my finger away from his lips, a sudden chill feathering over my skin and cooling my desire. There’s no turning back now, no possibility of changing my mind. Julian is again in charge of my life, and this time I’d willingly flown into the spider’s web, placing myself at his mercy.

Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered if I had been unwilling, I remind myself. I remember the syringe in Julian’s pocket, and I know that the outcome would’ve been the same regardless. Conscious or sedated, I would’ve been accompanying him today. For some messed-up reason, that fact makes me feel better, and I place my head back on Julian’s shoulder, letting myself relax againsthim.

It’s futile to fight against one’s destiny, and I’m starting to accept thatfact.

With traffic, our ride to the airport takes a little over an hour. To my surprise, we don’t go to O’Hare. Instead we end up at a small airstrip where a sizable plane awaits our arrival. I can make out the letters ‘G650’ on itstail.

“Is that yours?” I ask as Julian opens the car door forme.

“Yes.” He doesn’t look at me or elaborate further. Instead his gaze appears to be scanning our surroundings, as though looking for hidden threats. There is an alertness to his manner that I don’t remember seeing before, and for the first time, I realize that the island was his sanctuary as well, a place where he could truly relax and let down his guard.

As soon as I climb out, Julian grips my elbow and ushers me toward the plane. The driver follows us. I didn’t see him before, as a panel separated the backseat area of the car from the front, so now I sneak a glance at him as we walk toward the plane.

The guy must be one of Julian’s Navy SEALs. His blond hair is cut short, and his pale eyes are ice-cold in his square-jawed face. He’s even taller than Julian, and he moves with the same athletic, warrior-like grace, his every movement carefully controlled. There is a huge assault rifle in his hands, and I have no doubt that he knows exactly how to use it. Another dangerous man… one that many women would undoubtedly find attractive, with his regular features and muscular body. He doesn’t appeal to me, but I’m spoiled. Few men can hold a candle to Julian’s dark-angel allure.

“What kind of a plane is this?” I ask Julian as we walk up the steps and enter a luxurious cabin. I don’t know anything about private jets, but this one looks fancy. I’m doing my best not to gawk at everything, but I’m failing miserably. The cream-colored leather seats inside are huge, and there is an actual couch with a coffee table in front of it. There is also an open door leading to the back of the airplane, and I catch a glimpse of a king-size bed sitting there.

My mouth falls open in shock. The plane has a bedroom.

“It’s one of the higher-end Gulfstreams,” he replies, turning me so he can help me take off my coat. His warm hands brush against my neck, sending a pleasant shiver through me. “An ultra-long-range business jet. It can take us directly to our destination without needing to make a fuelstop.”

“It’s very nice,” I say, watching as Julian hangs my coat in the closet by the door and then takes off his own jacket. I can’t take my eyes off him, and I realize that a part of me still fears that this is not real—that I’ll wake up and find out that this was all just a dream… that Julian had truly died in the explosion.

The thought causes a shudder to run through me, and Julian notices my involuntary movement. “Are you cold?” he asks, stepping toward me. “I can have the temperature adjusted.”

“No, I’m fine.” Nevertheless, I enjoy Julian’s warmth as he pulls me toward him and rubs my arms for a few seconds. I can feel the heat of his body seeping through my clothes, chasing away the memory of those awful months when I thought I’d losthim.

Wrapping my arms around Julian’s waist, I hug him fiercely. He’s alive, and I have him with me. That’s all that mattersnow.

“We’re ready for takeoff.” An unfamiliar male voice startles me, and I let go of Julian, looking back to see the blond driver standing there, watching us with an unreadable expression on his hardface.

“Good.” Julian keeps his arm around me, pressing me against his side when I try to step away. “Nora, this is Lucas. He’s the one who dragged me out of the warehouse.”

“Oh, I see.” I beam at the man, my smile wide and genuine. This man had saved Julian’s life. “It’s very nice to meet you, Lucas. I can’t even begin to thank you for what youdid—”

His eyebrows arch a little, as though I said something that surprised him. “I was just doing my job,” he says, his voice deep and slightly amused.

The corner of Julian’s mouth lifts in a faint smile, but he doesn’t respond to that. Instead he asks, “Is everything ready for us at the estate?”

Lucas nods. “All set.” Then he looks at me, his face as expressionless as before. “It’s nice to meet you too, Nora.” And turning around, he disappears into the pilot’s area at the front.

“He drives and flies planes for you?” I ask Julian after Lucas isgone.

“He’s very versatile,” Julian says, leading me toward the plush seats. “Most of my menare.”

As soon as we sit down, a strikingly beautiful dark-haired woman comes into the cabin from somewhere in the front. Her white dress appears to have been poured on her curves, and with the full layer of makeup she has on, she looks as glamorous as a movie star—except for the tray with a champagne bottle and two glasses she’s holding in her hands.

Her gaze lands on me briefly before sliding over to Julian. “Would you like anything else, Mr. Esguerra?” she asks as she bends down to place the tray on the table between our seats. Her voice is soft and melodic, and the hungry way she looks at Julian sets my teeth onedge.

“This should suffice for now. Thank you, Isabella,” he says, giving her a brief smile, and I feel a sudden sharp stab of jealousy. Julian told me once that he hadn’t fucked anyone else since meeting me, but I still can’t help wondering if he had sex with this woman at some point in the past. She looks like a bombshell, and her manner makes it clear she would be more than willing to bring Julian anything he wants—including herself, naked on a silver platter.

Before my thoughts can travel any further down that road, I take a deep breath and force myself to look out the window at the slowly falling snow. A part of me knows that this whole thing is insane, that it’s illogical to feel so possessive about Julian. Any rational woman would be overjoyed to have her kidnapper’s attention deflected away from her, but I’m no longer rational when it comes tohim.

Stockholm Syndrome. Capture-bonding. Traumatic bonding. My therapist had used all of these terms during our few brief sessions together. She had been trying to get me to talk about my feelings for Julian, but it had been too painful for me to discuss the man I’d thought I lost, so I stopped going to her. I did look up the terms later, though, and I can see why they would be applicable to my experience. I don’t know if it’s as simple as that, though, or if it even matters at this point. Naming something doesn’t make it go away. Whatever the cause of my emotional attachment to Julian, I can’t turn it off. I can’t make myself love him anyless.

By the time I turn back to face Julian, the flight attendant is gone from the main cabin. I can hear the jet engines roaring to life, and I automatically fasten my safety belt, as I’d been taught to do my wholelife.

“Champagne?” he asks, reaching for the bottle at the table.

“Sure, why not,” I say, and watch him deftly pour me a glass.

He hands it to me, and I sit back in my spacious seat, sipping the bubbly drink as the plane starts rolling.

My new life with Julian has begun.

3

Julian

Sipping from my own glass, I study Nora as she looks out the window at the rapidly shrinking ground below. She’s wearing jeans and a blue fleece sweater, her small feet clad in a pair of chunky-looking black sheepskin boots. Uggs, I think they’re called. Despite that off-putting footwear, she still looks sexy—though I far prefer seeing her in summer dresses, her smooth skin glowing in thesun.

Watching her calm expression, I wonder what she’s thinking, if she has any regrets.

She shouldn’t. I would’ve taken her regardless.

As though sensing my gaze on her, she turns toward me. “How did they find out about me?” she asks quietly. “The men who kidnapped me, I mean. How did they learn of my existence?”

At her question, my entire body tenses. My mind flashes back to those hellish hours after the attack on the clinic, and for a moment, I’m gripped by that same volatile mix of burning fury and paralyzingfear.

She could’ve died. She would’ve died, if I hadn’t found her in time. Even if I’d given them what they wanted, they would’ve still killed her to punish me for not giving in to their demands sooner. I would’ve lost her, just like I lost Maria.

Just like we both lostBeth.

“It was the nursing assistant at the clinic.” My voice comes out sounding cold and distant as I place my champagne glass back on the tray. “Angela. She was on Al-Quadar’s payroll all along.”

Nora’s eyes glitter brightly. “That bitch,” she whispers, and I can hear the pain and anger in her voice. Her hand shakes as she puts down her own glass on the table. “That fucking bitch.”

I nod, trying to control my own rage as images from the video Majid sent me slide through my mind. They tortured Beth before killing her. They made her suffer. Beth, whose life had held nothing but suffering since her asshole of a father sold her to a brothel across the Mexican border at the age of thirteen. Who had been one of the very few people whose loyalty I never questioned.

They made her suffer… and now I will make them suffer worse.

“Where is she now?” Nora’s question brings me out of a pleasurable reverie where I have each member of Al-Quadar strung up and at my mercy. When I look at her blankly, she clarifies, “Angela.”

I smile at her naïve question. “You don’t have to worry about her, my pet.” All that remains of Angela are ashes, scattered on the lawn of the clinic in the Philippines. Peter’s brand of questioning is brutal but effective, and he always disposes of the evidence afterwards. “She paid for her betrayal.”

Nora swallows, and I know she understands exactly what I mean. She’s no longer the same girl I met in that club in Chicago. I can see the shadows in her eyes, and I know I’m responsible for putting them there. Despite my best efforts to keep her sheltered on the island, the ugliness of my world touched her, tainted her innocence.

Al-Quadar will pay for that aswell.

The scar on my head begins to throb, and I touch it lightly with my left hand. My head still aches occasionally, but other than that, I’m almost back to my normal self. Considering that I spent a good portion of the last four months as a vegetable, I’m quite content with this state of affairs.

“Are you all right?” There is a concerned expression on Nora’s face as she reaches up to touch the area above my left ear. Her slender fingers are gentle on my scalp. “Does it stillhurt?”

Her touch sends pleasure streaking down my spine. I want this from her. I want her to care about my well-being. I want her to love me even though I stole her freedom—even though, by all rights, she should hateme.

I have no illusions about myself. I’m one of those men they show on the news—the ones that everyone fears and despises. I took a young woman because I wanted her and for no other reason.

I took her, and I made hermine.

I make no excuses for my actions. I feel no guilt either. I wanted Nora, and now she’s here with me, looking at me like I’m the most important person in her world.

And I am. I am exactly what she needs now… what she craves. I will give her everything, and I will take everything from her in return. Her body, her mind, her devotion—I want it all. I want her pain and her pleasure, her fear and herjoy.

I want to be her entirelife.

“No, it’s fine,” I say in response to her earlier question. “It’s almost healed.”

She pulls her fingers away, and I catch her hand, not ready to forego the pleasure of her touch. Her hand is slim and delicate in my grasp, her skin soft and warm. She tries to tug it away reflexively, but I don’t let her, my fingers tightening around her small palm. Her strength is insignificant compared to mine; she can’t make me release her unless I choose to let hergo.

She doesn’t really want me to let her go, anyway. I can feel the excitement rising within her, and my body hardens, a dark hunger awakening within me again. Reaching across the table, I slowly and purposefully unbuckle her safetybelt.

Then I stand up, still holding her hand, and lead her to the bedroom at the back of the airplane.

She’s silent as we enter the room and I close the door behind us. The area is not soundproof, but Isabella and Lucas are at the front of the plane, so we should have some privacy. I don’t normally care if someone hears or sees me having sex, but what I do with Nora is different. She’s mine, and I don’t intend to share her. In anyway.

Letting go of her hand, I walk over to the bed and sit down on it, leaning back and crossing my legs at the ankles. A casual pose, though there’s nothing casual in the way I feel as I look ather.

The desire to possess her is violent, all-consuming. It’s an obsession that goes beyond a simple sexual need, though my body burns for her. I don’t just want to fuck her; I want to imprint myself on her, to mark her from the inside out, so that she will never belong to any man butme.

I want to own her completely.

“Take off your clothes,” I order, holding her gaze. My dick is so hard, it’s as though it’s been months, instead of hours, since I had her. It takes all of my self-restraint not to rip off her clothes, bend her over the bed, and pound into her flesh until I explode.

I control myself because I don’t want a quick fuck. I have other things in mind for today.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to stay still, watching as she slowly begins to disrobe. Her face is flushed, her breathing coming faster, and I know she’s already aroused, her pussy hot and slick, primed for me. At the same time, I can feel the hesitation in her movements, see the wariness in her eyes. There is a part of her that still fears me, that knows what I’m capableof.

She’s right to be afraid. There is something within me that thrives on the pain of others, that wants to hurtthem.

That wants to hurther.

She takes off her fleece sweater first, revealing a black tank top underneath. Her pink bra straps peek through, and the innocent color excites me for some reason, sending a fresh surge of blood straight to my cock. The tank top comes off next, and by the time she’s pulled off her boots and jeans, I’m all but ready to explode.

In her pink matching bra-and-panties set, she’s the most delectable creature I have ever seen. Her petite body is fit and toned, the muscles in her arms and legs subtly defined. Despite her slenderness, she is undeniably feminine, her ass perfectly curved and her small breasts surprisingly round. With her long hair flowing down her back, she looks like a Victoria’s Secret model in miniature. The only flaw is a small scar on the right side of her flat stomach—the reminder of her appendectomy.

I have to touchher.

“Come here,” I say hoarsely, my cock straining painfully against the fly of my jeans.

Staring at me with her huge dark eyes, she approaches cautiously, uncertainly, as though I might attack her at anytime.

I suck in another deep breath to prevent myself from doing exactly that. Instead, when she reaches me, I lean forward and firmly grip her waist, drawing her toward me so that she’s standing between my legs. Her skin is cool and smooth to the touch, her ribcage so narrow that I can almost encircle her waist with my hands. It would be so easy to damage her, to break her.Her vulnerability turns me on almost as much as her beauty.

Reaching up, I find the clasp of her bra and release her breasts from their confinement.

As the bra slips down her arms, my mouth goes dry and my entire body tightens. Even though I’ve seen her naked hundreds of times, each time is a revelation. Her nipples are small, pinkish-brown in color, and her breasts are the same light golden hue as the rest of her body. Unable to resist, I cup those soft, round mounds in my hands, squeezing them, kneading them. Her flesh is sleek and firm, her nipples stiff against my palms. I can hear the catch in her breathing as my thumbs rub across those hardened peaks, and my hunger intensifies.

Releasing her breasts, I hook my fingers into the waistband of her underwear and push it down her legs, then cup her sex with my right hand. My middle finger pushes into her small opening, and the warm moisture I find there makes my cock jerk. She gasps as my callused thumb presses against her clit, and her hands reach up to grab my shoulders, her sharp little nails digging into myskin.

I can’t wait any longer. I must haveher.

“Get on the bed.” My voice is thick with lust as I withdraw my hand from her pussy. “I want you on your stomach.”

She scrambles to obey as I rise to my feet and begin to disrobe.

I’ve trained her well. By the time I’ve removed my own clothes, she’s lying on her stomach fully naked, a pillow propping up her curvy little ass. Her arms are folded under her head, and her face is turned toward me. She’s watching me with those thickly lashed eyes of hers, and I can sense her nervous anticipation. She both desires and fears me in this moment.

It turns me on, that look, but it also awakens another kind of hunger in me. A darker, more perverse need. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the belt from my jeans lying on the floor. Picking it up, I wind the buckle end around my right hand and approach thebed.

Nora doesn’t move, though I can see the anxious tension in her body. My lips twitch. Such a good girl. She knows it would go worse for her if she resists. Of course, by now she also knows that I will temper her pain with pleasure, that she will derive enjoyment from thistoo.

Pausing at the edge of the bed, I extend my free hand and trail my fingers along her spine. She trembles under my touch, a reaction that sends dark excitement surging through me. This is exactly what I want, what I need—this deep, twisted connection that exists between us. I want to drink in her fear, her pain. I want to hear her screams, feel her helpless struggles—and then have her melt in my arms as I bring her to ecstasy again and again.

For some reason, this small girl brings out the worst in me, makes me forget whatever shreds of morality I possess. She’s the only woman I’ve ever forced into my bed, the only one I’ve wanted this much… and in such a wrong way. Having her here, at my mercy, is beyond heady—it’s the most powerful drug I’ve ever tasted. I’ve never felt this way about another human being before, and the knowledge that she’s mine, that I can do anything I want to her, is a rush unlike any other. With all those other women, it was a game we played, a way to scratch a mutual itch, but with Nora, it’s different. With her, it’s somethingmore.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, stroking the soft skin of her thighs and buttocks. Soon it will be marked, but for now I’m enjoying its smoothness. “So very, very beautiful…” Bending over her, I press a gentle kiss to the base of her spine, inhaling her warm female scent and letting the anticipation build. A shiver ripples through her, and I smile, adrenaline surging through my veins.

Straightening, I take a step back and swing thebelt.

I don’t use a lot of force, but she still jumps when the belt lands on the round globes of her ass, a soft whimper escaping her lips. She doesn’t try to move or crawl away; instead her small fists grip the sheets tightly, and her eyes squeeze shut. I swing harder a second time, then again and again, my movements taking on a hypnotic, trance-like rhythm. With each stroke of the belt, I sink deeper and deeper into the blackness, my world narrowing until all I see, all I hear, all I feel is her. The reddening of her tender flesh, the pained gasps and sobs that issue from her throat, the way her body quivers and trembles under each stroke of my belt—I drink it all in, letting it feed my addiction, soothe the desperate hunger gnawing at my insides.

Time blurs and stretches. I don’t know if it’s been minutes or hours. When I finally stop, she’s lying limp and unmoving, her buttocks and thighs covered with pink welts. There is a dazed, almost blissful expression on her tear-wet face, and her slender body is shaking, small tremors rippling over herskin.

Letting the belt drop to the floor, I carefully pick her up and sit down on the bed, holding her cradled on my lap. My own heart is hammering in my chest, my mind still reeling from the incredible rush I just experienced. She shudders, hiding her face against my shoulder, and begins to cry. I stroke her hair, slowly, soothingly, letting her come down from her endorphin-induced high as I come down frommine.

This is what I need now—to comfort her, to feel her in my arms. I want to be her everything: her protector and her tormentor, her joy and her sorrow. I want to bind her to me physically and emotionally, to brand myself so deeply on her mind and soul that she will never think about leavingme.

As her sobs begin to ease, my sexual hunger returns. My soothing caresses become more purposeful, my hands starting to roam over her body with an intent to arouse, not just to calm. My right hand slips between her thighs, my fingers pressing against her clit, and at the same time, my other hand grips her hair and pulls on it, forcing her to meet my gaze. She still looks dazed, her soft lips parted as she stares at me, and I lean down, taking her mouth in a deep, thorough kiss. She moans into my mouth, her hands clutching at my shoulders, and I can feel the heat rising between us. My balls draw up tightly against my body, my cock aching for her slick, warm flesh.

I stand up, still holding her in my arms, and place her on the bed. She winces, and I realize the sheets are rubbing against her welts, hurting her. “Turn over, baby,” I whisper, wanting only her pleasure now. She obediently rolls over onto her stomach, in the same position as before, and I position her so that she’s on her hands and knees, her elbowsbent.

On all fours, with her ass tilted up and her back slightly arched, she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I can see everything—the folds of her delicate pussy, the tiny hole of her anus, the delicious curves of her cheeks, pink with marks from the belt. My heart is pounding heavily in my chest, and my cock is throbbing painfully as I grasp her hips, line the head of my dick up against her opening, and push inside.

Hot, wet flesh envelops me, sheathing me in tight, slick perfection. She moans, arching toward me, trying to take me deeper, and I oblige, withdrawing partially and then slamming back in. A cry escapes her throat, and I repeat the move, my spine prickling with pleasure at the clinging grip of her tight channel. Waves of heat roll through me, and I begin to thrust with abandon, barely cognizant of my fingers digging into the soft skin of her hips. Her moans and cries increase in volume, and then I feel her peaking, her inner muscles contracting around my cock, milking it. Unable to hold on any longer, I explode, my vision blurring from the force of my release as my seed erupts into her warm depths.

Panting, I collapse onto my side, pulling her with me. Our skin is damp with sweat, gluing us together, and my heart is racing. She’s breathing heavily too, and I can feel her pussy clenching around my softening cock as one last orgasmic shudder ripples throughher.

We lie joined together as our breathing begins to ease. I’m holding her spooned against me, the soft curve of her ass pressing into my groin, and a sense of peace, of contentment, slowly steals over me. It’s always like that with her. Something about her calms my demons, makes me feel almost normal. Almost… happy. It’s not something I can explain or rationalize; it’s just there. It’s what makes my need for her so acute, so desperate.

So dangerously fuckedup.

“Tell me you love me,” I murmur, stroking her outer thigh. “Tell me you missed me, baby.”

She shifts in my arms, turning over to face me. Her dark eyes are solemn as she meets my gaze. “I love you, Julian,” she says softly, her delicate palm curving around my jaw. “I missed you more than life itself. You knowthat.”

I do—but I still need this from her. In recent months, the emotional aspect has become as necessary to me as the physical. It amuses me, this strange quirk of mine. I want my little captive to love me, to care about me. I want to be more than just the monster of her nightmares.

Closing my eyes, I draw her deeper into my embrace and let myself relax.

In a few hours, she’s going to be mine in every sense of theword.

4

Nora

I must’ve fallen asleep in Julian’s arms because I wake up when the plane begins to descend. Opening my eyes, I stare at the unfamiliar surroundings, my body sore and aching from the sex we justhad.

I had forgotten what it was like with Julian, how devastating and cathartic the roller coaster ride of pain and ecstasy could be. I feel both empty and exhilarated at the same time, wrung out, yet invigorated by the maelstrom of emotions.

Sitting up gingerly, I wince as my bruised bottom touches the sheets. That had been one of the more intense belting sessions; I won’t be surprised if these bruises last a while. Casting a glance around the room, I spot a door that I assume leads to the bathroom. Julian is not in the room, so I get up and go over there, feeling the need to washup.

To my surprise, the bathroom contains a small shower, as well as a real sink and toilet. With all these amenities, Julian’s jet seems more like a flying hotel than any commercial plane I’ve been on. There is even a plastic-wrapped toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash tucked inside a little shelf on the wall. I use all three and follow up with a quick shower. Then, feeling infinitely more refreshed, I go back into the bedroom to get dressed.

When I enter the main cabin, I see Julian sitting on the couch, an open laptop on the table in front of him. The sleeves of his shirt are pushed up, exposing tan, muscular forearms, and there is a frown of concentration on his face. He looks serious—and so devastatingly beautiful that my breath catches for a moment.

As though sensing my presence, he looks up, his blue eyes gleaming. “How are you, my pet?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, and I feel a hot flush moving over my entire body in response.

“I’m fine.” I don’t know what else to say. My butt hurts because you whipped me, but that’s okay because you trained me to enjoy it?Yeah, sure.

His lips curl in a slow smile. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. I was just about to come get you. You should get into your seat—we’ll be landingsoon.”

“Okay.” I follow his suggestion, trying not to flinch at the pain caused by the simple act of sitting down. I will definitely have bruises for the next fewdays.

Strapping myself in, I look out the window, curious about our destination. As the plane breaks through the cloud cover, I see a large city spread out below, with mountains looming on the edge of it. “What city is that?” I ask, turning towards Julian.

“Bogotá,” he replies, closing his laptop. Picking it up, he walks over to sit down next to me. “We’ll only be there for a few hours.”

“You have business there?”

“You could say that.” He looks vaguely amused. “There is something I’d like to get done before we fly to the estate.”

“What?” I inquire warily. An amused Julian is rarely a goodsign.

“You’ll see.” And opening the laptop again, he focuses on whatever he was doing before.

A black car similar to the one that dropped us off at the airport waits for us when we get off the plane. Lucas assumes the role of our driver again, while Julian continues working on his laptop, seemingly absorbed in histask.

I don’t mind. I’m too busy staring at everything as we drive through the crowded streets. Bogotá has a certain ‘Old World’ vibe that I find fascinating. I can see traces of its Spanish heritage everywhere, mixed with a uniquely Latino flavor. It makes me crave arepas—corn cakes that I used to get from a Colombian food truck in downtown Chicago.

“Where are we going?” I ask Julian when the car pulls up in front of a stately old church in a wealthy-looking neighborhood. Somehow I hadn’t pictured my captor as the church-goingtype.

Instead of answering, he climbs out of the car and extends his hand to me. “Come, Nora,” he says. “We don’t have a lot oftime.”

Time for what? I want to question him further, but I know it’s futile. He’s not going to answer me unless he feels like it. Placing my hand in Julian’s large palm, I climb out of the car and let him lead me toward the church building. For all I know, we’re meeting some of his associates here—though why he wants me with him for that is anyone’s guess.

We enter through a little side door and find ourselves in a small, but beautifully decorated room. Old-fashioned wooden benches line the sides of it, and there is a pulpit with an intricate cross toward the front.

For some reason, the sight of it makes me nervous. An insane, improbable thought occurs to me, and my palms begin to sweat. “Um, Julian…” I look up to find him gazing at me with a strange smile. “Why are wehere?”

“Can’t you guess, my pet?” he says softly, turning to face me. “We’re here to get married.”

For a moment, all I can do is stare at him in mute shock. Then a nervous laugh escapes my throat. “You’re joking, right?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Joking? No, not at all.” He reaches for my hand again, and I feel him sliding something onto my left ring finger.

My heart racing, I look down at my left hand in numb disbelief. The ring looks like something a Hollywood star might wear—a thin, diamond-encrusted band with a large, round stone sparkling in the center. It’s both delicate and ostentatious, and the fit is utterly perfect, as though it had been made just forme.

The room fades in front of my eyes, spots of light dancing in the corners of my vision, and I realize that I literally stopped breathing for a few seconds. Desperately sucking in air, I look up at Julian, my entire body beginning to shake. “You… you want to marry me?” My voice comes out in a kind of horrified whisper.

“Of course I do.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Why else would I bring youhere?”

I have no response to that; all I can do is stand there and stare at him, feeling like I’m hyperventilating.

Marriage. Marriage to Julian.

It simply doesn’t compute. Marriage and Julian are so far apart in my mind, they might as well be on opposite poles of the planet. When I think of marriage, it’s in the context of a pleasant, yet distant future—a future that involves a doting husband and two noisy children. In that picture, there is a dog and a house in the suburbs, soccer games and school picnics. There is no killer with the face of a fallen angel, no beautiful monster to make me scream in hisarms.

“I can’t marry you.” The words tumble out before I can think better of it. “I’m sorry, Julian, but I can’t.”

His face turns black. In a flash, he’s on me, one arm wrapped around my waist, pressing me against him, and the other hand gripping my jaw. “You said you loved me.” His voice is soft and even, but I can feel the dark rage underneath. “Was that alie?”

“No!” Shaking, I hold Julian’s furious gaze, my hands pushing helplessly against his powerful chest. I can feel the weight of the ring on my finger, and it adds to my panic. I don’t know how to explain, how to make him understand something that I can barely comprehend myself. I want to be with Julian. I can’t live without him, but marriage is something else entirely, something that doesn’t belong in our twisted relationship. “I do love you! You knowthat—”

“So why would you refuse?” he demands, his eyes dark with fury. His grip on my jaw tightens, his fingers biting into myskin.

My eyes begin to burn. How can I explain my reluctance? How can I say that he’s not someone I can picture as my husband? That he’s part of a life I never imagined, never wanted, and that marrying him would mean giving up that vague, far-off dream of a normal future? “Why do you want to marry me?” I ask desperately. “Why do you want something so traditional? I’m already yours—”

“Yes, you are.” He leans down until his face is mere inches from mine. “And I want a legal document to that effect. You will be my wife, and no one will be able to take you fromme.”