King's Hostage

by Stone, Piper

  My mind remained rattled as I fucked her, driving in long and even strokes, the sound of our coupling mixing with whatever second movie had started minutes before. Within seconds I could feel a shift in the stunning woman, her moans becoming feral, matching the savagery of what I was doing.

  I pounded into her like a crazed lion, taking everything I wanted, refusing to release until I knew she’d surrendered.

  Only then did I throw my head back, exploding deep inside.

  “Oh…” Panting, she hung her head, her body continuing to quiver.

  Seconds later, I exhaled, moving away and shifting my cock into my jeans.

  She remained in position, her breathing ragged. When she stood, she immediately dragged her robe over her shoulders, not bothering to turn in my direction.

  I returned to the couch, easing down and reaching for my drink. I heard nothing for a few seconds. If she was expecting some kind of additional passion, discussions afterwards, that also was never going to happen. “You can return to your room now.”

  Her silence was to be expected. I could feel her presence even a full two minutes later. Then she walked away, laughing under her breath.

  And just before she walked out of the room, I heard her whispered words and lifted my glass to them.

  “Fucking asshole.”

  Chapter 6

  Daniella

  What is that I’d heard about wolves in expensive Armani suits?

  Oh, yes, they were even more dangerous than those with claws and fangs.

  I had no doubt that was a truthful statement regarding Michael.

  “I’m leaving on business. Titus will remain behind. I assure you that he will be watching everything you do.” He nodded toward the brawny man standing in the shadows. The bruiser had yet to say anything to me, but he didn’t need to in order to be frightening as hell.

  Michael’s words were curt, said with zero emotion. What the hell had the night before meant to him?

  Or maybe I should say done to him?

  As if I gave a shit.

  He’d shown me just what an asshole he really was. Maybe he’d once had a soft spot for his dead wife, but that had ended with her death.

  With her murder.

  I still shuddered from the thought, unable to sleep not only because of my anger toward the wretched bastard, but the bloody images rolling into my mind, one after the other. What a horrible life he led.

  “Will you be home for dinner?” I asked just as curtly as his statement had been. Home. God, I was beginning to loathe that word.

  “Likely not. Please prepare the children dinner and have them in bed by eight.”

  “Why, certainly, sir.” I turned to face him, trying not to allow my emotions to steamroll over me. Why the hell did the man have to look so damn hot in his charcoal gray suit, the fit so perfect that the tailoring alone made my mouth water? Somehow, he’d found the perfect hue of plum for his tie, the color bringing out the lavender in his eyes.

  He adjusted the cuffs of his white shirt, his eyes penetrating.

  Dominating.

  I refused to give in, holding my head as high as possible.

  “However, we will have a discussion when I return. Is that clear?”

  “Yes. Sir.”

  Carlo was obviously amused, a slight grin crossing his face.

  Michael took a deep breath, shifting his gaze to his soldier. I could only imagine the punishment the poor man would receive for daring to defy such a glorious master of the universe. When he closed the distance, his eyes cutting through me, I was forced to hold my breath.

  Cold.

  Callous.

  Calculating.

  I could never forget the various layers encompassing him, the two distinct sides that were in battle with each other. Sadly, my instinct told me that his dark and dangerous side would always win.

  Especially when challenged.

  “While I understand your particular mood this morning, it will not interfere with your responsibilities. If it does on any level, my reaction will be swift and painful. Are we clear about that?”

  Swallowing, I yanked in my rebellious nature, nodding once.

  “When I ask you a question, you will answer. If I am forced to ask you a second time, you won’t like my response.”

  “Yes, Michael. I am in complete understanding of what I am required to do. I will ensure the twins are well taken care of. I promise you that.”

  Inhaling, he took a few seconds, studying my face. A series of creepy-crawlies skittered down my spine. As if he could look right through me.

  As if he knew exactly what I was made of and had already begun to break down my defenses.

  “Very well. Be prepared for our discussion.” Reaching out, he hesitated then fisted his hand, turning abruptly.

  I remained where I was, watching as he grabbed his coat, Carlo opening the door for him. He looked back once and if I didn’t know better, I could swear his expression held a sense of longing.

  Who the hell was I kidding?

  He’d made it perfectly clear that I meant nothing to him.

  When the door was closed, only then did I exhale, still shivering from his harsh words. However, I had a job to do and one that I couldn’t fuck up.

  Or else.

  * * *

  The day slipped by quickly, time spent with the twins between education, introduction to what little I knew about art, recreation outside, and the various meals exhausting me by the time I put them to bed. The simple act of reading them a story had almost put me to sleep.

  But their reactions had kept me almost gleeful all day. They absorbed everything I’d shared with them, Alessandro engaging more than he’d ever done in my classroom. He seemed in his natural element, free of trying to be a big brother or perhaps a carbon copy of his father. Even our short walk out in the frigid cold, light snow falling all around us had been enjoyable.

  And when we’d returned, Titus had stoked the fire, bringing in another load of wood and turning on several lights. Fortunately, the twins had fallen asleep within minutes.

  Now I was alone.

  All alone.

  The darkness outside oppressive.

  Although I knew Titus was hulking around somewhere.

  While blinds covered the windows in the bedrooms, the larger floor-to-ceiling windows were completely bare. I couldn’t help but shiver every time I walked past one of them. I could swear someone was watching everything I did, even though there wasn’t a single possibility. I’d seen little of Titus, other than when we’d gone outside. He’d remained in the distance and I could clearly see the outline of a weapon.

  The children neither cared nor bothered to try to engage with him. They were obviously used to their life. Time in Switzerland was nothing more than a working vacation for them.

  I walked downstairs, remaining in front of the fire for a few seconds before deciding on a glass of wine. Since I’d been given free rein of the house, I chose to make a selection from the wine cellar. I’d never been able to spend more than ten dollars on a single bottle of wine. I might as well indulge.

  I selected a pristine bottle of cabernet, knowing the Chateau Margaux was priced somewhere near five hundred dollars. What did I care? The man could certainly afford it.

  The act made me feel naughty. Merely opening the beautiful bottle was enough to give me a high. When I poured the glass, bringing the magnificent stem to my nose, the bouquet truly made me feel like a princess.

  But you’re only a toad.

  The words rambled in my mind, yanking me back to reality. I took several sips before returning in front of the fire. All the while Elle followed behind me, remaining completely silent other than the slight click of her nails on the hardwood floor. I peered up at the ceiling, the wooden beams artistic in design. The attention to detail in the house was incredible, but still so cold. No life. No love.

  At least for the closed-off man with a chip on his shoulder.

  I’d avoided the pictur
es of his wife after his admission of how she’d died, but I couldn’t avoid them any longer. I bit my lower lip and walked closer to the mantel, not daring to touch them but shifting my gaze from one to the other. They were simplistic shots like any family would snap with their cameras, not something a professional photographer would do.

  I’d never felt like an invader in my life, but that’s what I was at this point. I glanced up at the stairs and to the fourth floor. I had to admit that my curiosity was getting the better of me. After shooting a quick look toward the front door, scanning the area for any sign of Titus, I headed up the stairs. This time, Elle remained in front of the fire. I had no idea how long I might have but I had to know what the man was hiding.

  Stopping on the third floor, I listened for any sign the twins were awake before continuing. The first room was an impressive office, yet the furniture was modern with light wood and colorful walls. I was surprised how comfortable the setting truly was. There were papers on the desk, which meant Michael had already been working. I inched closer to his computer, double thinking my decision but unable to keep from hitting the space bar. Several files were on the screen in folders, but I had no doubt they were password protected.

  Besides, it would seem the man had eyes in the back of his head. The screen saver was almost as surprising, a picture of Elle when she was a puppy. When I entered the second room, I had to fight to keep from gasping.

  The four-poster canopy bed was unlike anything I’d ever seen. The wood darker, the pedestal bottom was at least three feet tall, the box springs and mattress positioned on top. And it had to be larger than a traditional king-size bed.

  Fit for a king.

  Or a wolf.

  Whew. Visions popped into my mind, filthy images of what the wooden beams could be used for.

  Michael stretched one arm over my head, securing the leather strap around my wrist. His eyes never leaving mine, he shifted to the other side, taking his time to repeat the move.

  “I adore seeing you in chains,” he whispered against my cheek, his hot breath sending a series of electrified shivers coursing through every inch of my body.

  After completing the task, he brushed the backs of his fingers down my side, rolling his fingers around my already taut nipple. “Are you wet for me, Daniella?”

  My entire body continued to quiver, my throat clenching almost completely shut. “Na… No.”

  Chuckling darkly, he continued trailing his fingers down my stomach, swirling his index finger around my navel before dipping his hand between my legs. He inched in front of me, a smirk on his face.

  I jangled the bindings, the slight squeak of the leather echoing in my ears.

  “There is no way to escape, Daniella. You are my prisoner for as long as I desire.” When he slipped his fingers into my tight channel, I tipped my head back and moaned. He pumped several times, his smile widening. After removing them, holding all four in front of his face, his breathing became ragged. “You are all mine. Now, open your mouth for me. I want you to see just how wet you really are.”

  I obeyed without hesitation, knowing that if I didn’t, my punishment would be worse. When he slipped his fingers into my mouth, using his other hand to clamp my jaw, forcing me to accept the invasion, I jerked. I fisted my hands, the leather tightening around my wrists.

  “That’s a good girl. Suck on them. Lick them clean for me.” He jammed his fingers into my mouth, driving hard and fast.

  I almost gagged from his brutal actions, my body swaying from the force. When he slowed, allowing me to fully obey his command, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was so wet, my body betraying me even more than it had before.

  “Very nice. You are learning. Open your eyes for me. You’re required to watch every single thing I do to you,” Michael commanded.

  While my vision remained foggy, I did as I was told, wanting nothing more than to lash out. When he moved off the bed, I sucked in my breath, doing everything I could to prevent whimpering or calling out. He was going to punish me again for my insolence and caustic mouth, both of which he hated. But I deserved the harsh punishment. I’d disappointed him more than once.

  He took his time selecting an implement, every one of his choices used at least once and I hated all of them. Turning slowly, he held up the thick strap, cracking it into the air then running the leather piece under his nose. “This will be perfect tonight.”

  His deep baritone was little more than a whisper. Blinking furiously, I stretched and struggled, unable to be the perfect girl that he needed. That wasn’t my nature. I couldn’t give in.

  I refused to surrender.

  After returning to the bed, he took his time brushing the freaking implement across every inch of my body, including between my legs. I couldn’t hold back a whimper as he shoved it between the swollen folds of my pussy, sliding the strap back and forth.

  “Your punishment will be harsh tonight. Your behavior has been egregious and that won’t be tolerated. Your whipping will include your pretty pink pussy.”

  When he issued a single crack across my bottom, I rose onto my tiptoes, unable to hold back a cry.

  Blinking, I was shocked just how vivid the fantasy really was. Was it a fantasy at all or a premonition of what he planned on doing to me? I backed out of the room quickly, taking shallow breaths. I’d never had this kind of… ugly… damning… delicious desire before. A lump formed in my throat as I turned away completely, moving to the bannister and listening for any sounds that Michael had returned. While I heard nothing, my brain told me the best thing to do would be to retreat to my room and prepare for his arrival.

  But as usual, I ignored both my instinct and my inner voice. I needed to learn more about Michael, the information regarding his wife only a small part of why he was so cold inside. There had to be more.

  The door was closed on the third room. I hesitated, reaching out twice before trying the handle. To my surprise, it wasn’t locked. So much of the last couple of days had been surprising. Michael’s brusque attitude yet his warmth and playfulness with his kids. The power he seemed to wield. The lengths he would go to in order to protect someone he cared for. And his hatred of himself. However, the second I turned on the light, the room showered with the most beautiful LED lighting splashed across colorful walls and magnificent pieces of art, I was stunned.

  Especially seeing the grand piano as the centerpiece of the room, several other instruments positioned in various locations. When I walked inside, I was able to see the extensive music system, rows of sheet music in several bookcases. What drew my eye more than anything was the beautiful violin located near the ebony piano. I clenched my fists, remembering far too many things that should be forgotten, a life that I’d left behind in my search to make a living.

  Against every rational thought in my mind, I walked closer, sliding the tips of my fingers across the perfectly polished piano then moving directly in front of the violin. I’d know the beautiful instrument anywhere. A Stradivarius. I’d held one once a lifetime ago, allowed to feel the weight in my hand, the varnish exquisite.

  A shiver trickled down my spine, coursing along my legs. Dreams of a little girl popped into my mind, forcing me to shove them away. I was no longer that girl and there were no more dreams. Yet… butterflies erupted in my tummy. I might never have another opportunity to play just a few chords during my lifetime. What could it possibly hurt? Very carefully I eased my glass on top of the piano before shifting in front of the violin.

  When I lifted the beautiful instrument into my hand, I gasped for air. No one but a musician could understand the majesty of holding something so precious in their hands. The artistry in the creation was magnificent, the time it had taken breathtaking in my mind.

  My hands were shaking as I lifted the piece, terrified I would drop or break it. The majority of people would say something so priceless deserved to be behind protected glass, but I knew a creation of this magnitude needed to be played as well as enjoyed by the rest of
the world. There were so few in existence that if I was right in my assumption that it was the real thing, it could be worth millions.

  Why and how did Michael acquire it? Was he a musician?

  No. My guess would be his wife had been the one to acquire every piece in the room. I pulled the bow into my hands, positioning the violin. The draw was irresistible, something I couldn’t deny. Just once. A dream coming true just once in my life.

  As I began to play, moans slipped past my lips, the sound evocative and so beautiful. While I’d lost some aspects of my rigid training, the music remained sweet, the chance to play once again something I would never forget. Within seconds, my favorite concerto was easy to remember. I kept my eyes closed, savoring the beautiful moment as my fingers began to fly, no longer rigid, my body relaxing as necessary. I found myself leaning forward, every cell on fire.

  My heart racing.

  My blood pulsing.

  Every muscle quivering.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Chapter 7

  Daniella

  His steel eyes turned into blazing fire as he shifted his gaze from the violin to my face, his jaw clenching as he glared at me. His enraged and hard stare was enough to send a series of chills into my body. I’d fucked up royally, making the single mistake that I had no doubt I’d regret.

  The entire world around me came to a halt, Michael’s angry and hateful tone permeating the room. Shaking, I couldn’t find any words to say, no excuses that would be reasonable. The rage in his eyes was terrifying and when he stormed toward me, I was fearful he’d smash the instrument before turning his wrath toward me.

  He seemed even more dominating in his attire, his expensive suit unable to cover his powerful muscles and lean physique.

  “Don’t!” I exclaimed, pulling the violin to the side. “Please don’t hurt it. I’m sorry, so very sorry.”

  His mouth twisted as he came to a halt directly in front of me. Veins in his neck bulged, his nostrils flaring. Beads of sweat trickled down both sides of his face. I’d never seen him this furious. But he reached for the violin. No. No.