Dornan stood beside the bed, still fully erect in front of me.
‘Get up,’ he said. I didn’t hesitate. I knew what he wanted, because I wanted it, too. I rolled over to my front and raised myself on hands and knees, crawling towards him.
He held the base of his cock in one hand, and fisted my hair roughly with the other.
My family might have been shocked by my behaviour, but in that moment, I was somebody else.
Somebody who did whatever it took to ensure she survived.
I like your blood.
I opened my mouth and darted my tongue out, licking the very tip of his cock. I tasted myself and his salty arousal as I swirled my tongue around and took the tip into my mouth.
I like it very much.
Blood and violence and fucking and pain. This was what my life was reduced to. This was the person I had to be if I had any chance at surviving this hell.
I clamped down my gag reflex as I took him deeper into my throat, as deep as I could. He sighed in appreciation, a deep rumble that seemed to come directly from his chest and wrap around me like vine tendrils. He’d already been close, I could tell when I put my lips on him and he pulsed between them.
A couple more strokes, and he went rock hard, pinching my shoulder as hard as he could. The universal sign for I’m about to blow my load in your mouth. Last chance to turn back.
I didn’t. I relaxed my tongue and waited to feel the first pulse jet against the back of my throat, and it didn’t take long. I waited until he was done, and swallowed it all down. I wasn’t about to spit and disappoint him. I was committed to the final, warm spurt as it slid down my throat.
He pulled himself from my mouth and I took the opportunity to massage my aching jaw. My small mouth and his impressive appendage didn’t really match, but, in a disturbing way, I was insanely proud of myself for what I’d just done.
Almost as if it had been a test, and I had passed.
‘Did it hurt?’ he asked me, in the stillness that came after.
‘No,’ I replied.
He paused for a beat.
‘Did you like it?’
I felt my cheeks pool with blood as I nodded in the dark.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Dornan
When she came, he’d almost exploded. He couldn’t believe it. He’d stopped himself once he had his fingers inside her, snapped to his senses by the sound that had come from her mouth.
She was sad. He saw it in the hollow of her cheeks; he heard it in the guttural wail she had let out when he touched her. He had stopped, fully prepared to leave, even if the blue balls might kill him. He refused to make her sadder.
But she hadn’t wanted to be alone.
She had wanted to be with him. Wanted to be beneath him. Wanted to be around him.
He’d barely been able to hold back, but he was damn glad that he had. Because the way she finished him, took it all and swallowed and looked at him for approval afterwards — it made him feel like the motherfucking king.
Rationally, he knew that she was fucking him because it was in her best interests. It was about survival.
But she had liked it. He knew it even before she’d said it. He felt it in the way she locked her ankles around him and pulled him deep inside her. In the way her lips sought out his; in the tight little sobs that escaped her mouth as he fucked her into oblivion. Yeah, she was definitely using him, but at least she seemed to get off on it almost as much as he did.
It made him uneasy about what he was going to do next. The drive. The devastation that would ensue. But he reminded himself that it was necessary. One of his men, Jimmy, was already in place. He had another one, Viper, trailing Mariana’s father and brother.
He knew exactly where they were going. After all, he’d told them where she was.
He watched the steady rise and fall of Ana’s chest as she lay sleeping in his bed. He had had the sense to cuff her wrists to the headboard before he’d drifted off to sleep, so there was no chance of her spoiling his plans. He didn’t think she would, especially after the way she’d responded to him, surrendered to him, but he could never be too sure. He never trusted women. They always ended up letting you down in the end.
She stretched in bed lazily, and as she did, the cuffs around her wrists clinked against the bed head.
Her eyes flew open and she gasped, realising she was chained up. Dornan leaned against the bedroom’s door frame, sipping coffee, black and strong. He felt himself grow hard again just at the sight of her, spread out deliciously in front of him like a goddamn buffet, but he wouldn’t try to fuck her again this morning. As much as his dick was trying to protest, the girl had to be sore after last night’s marathon.
She looked from the cuffs above her head, down to her naked form, and finally to him.
‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘You hungry?’
She nodded. He set the coffee down and undid her cuffs, one by one, probably letting his hands linger a little too long on her delicate wrists as he did so.
Breakfast was bacon and scrambled eggs with chilli sauce, and a side of strong coffee. She wrinkled her nose up in distaste, reaching across and sliding her coffee cup closer. He’d contemplated making her eat breakfast naked, but at the last moment let her have one of those hotel dressing gowns he’d somehow ended up with. It was white and fluffy, with little flowers sewn into the hem. Against Ana’s creamy caramel skin it looked positively divine. It covered her breasts but showed the definition of her nipples.
‘What is that?’ she asked, holding her coffee to her chest as she surveyed his sauce-slathered eggs dubiously.
He laughed. ‘Mongrel’s breakfast.’
‘Which is?’
He chewed his eggs and swallowed. ‘A little huevos rancheros, some Italian coffee, and good ol’ American bacon.’
She studied him as he continued to devour his food.
‘You’re kind of a mongrel, aren’t you?’ she asked.
He grinned. ‘Am I?’
‘I mean, your family is Italian, you’re American, and you like to hang out with a lot of Colombians.’
‘And I grew up on the border of Mexico,’ he added, shovelling the last piece of bacon into his mouth. ‘In the house where you were being kept.’
Her face paled three shades lighter right in front of him. ‘You grew up in that place?’
He swallowed and pushed his plate away. ‘Yeah. I fuckin’ hated it. Still do.’
Neither of them spoke for a while.
‘Who lives here?’ she asked finally.
‘Sometimes me, sometimes nobody,’ he said. Despite what was about to happen, he was feeling awfully chipper this morning. Probably because every time he looked at her lips, it reminded him of the night before.
She was very good at being bad. He appreciated a woman who was both resourceful and devious. Often they were one or the other, but to have both was simply delicious.
‘Where else do you live?’
He saw right through her feigned casual manner.
‘That’s for me to know,’ he snapped, standing abruptly and circling the counter, tossing his empty plate into the sink.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I just meant … will I stay here? Or will I go somewhere else?’
He softened slightly. ‘That depends.’
She cocked one eyebrow. ‘On whether I please you?’ Her words sounded submissive but there was a glint to her eye that turned him on.
‘It’s not hard to keep me happy,’ he said gruffly, trying to restrain his desire. ‘Just don’t try to escape. It’s that simple.’
She nodded, a faint smile on her lips.
‘Eat something,’ he ordered, pointing to the pantry. ‘If you don’t want my breakfast, get some goddamn cereal or something. I don’t want you starving yourself.’
He smiled as she stared at her coffee. ‘What are you thinking?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m thinking of ways to ask you questions that won’t piss y
ou off.’
He laughed.
‘I just screwed your brains halfway back to Colombia last night. I think we’re past being polite.’
She blushed.
‘Just ask me what you’re gonna ask me. If I don’t want to tell you, I won’t.’
She nodded slowly, and he could practically see the cogs turning over in her mind.
She finally cleared her throat. ‘Am I safe here?’ she asked. ‘I mean, will anyone else ever —’ She tilted her head towards the bedroom.
‘No,’ he said abruptly, cutting her off. ‘The only person who gets to touch you is me.’
‘Your father would disagree,’ she said quietly.
He slammed his fist on the counter. ‘He’s not fuckin’ here, is he? I brought you here to keep you from him. Besides,’ he struggled not to explode with anger in front of her, ‘he’s too busy with all the other girls.’
Her head snapped up. ‘The other girls?’
‘No more questions,’ he growled. ‘You need to get dressed. And eat something or I’ll make you eat me when I get back. And trust me, baby, you’re gonna need a full stomach for the drive we’re about to take.’
He slapped the pantry with one hand as he left the kitchen, walking down the hallway towards the front door.
‘Wait!’ she pleaded. ‘What if there’s a fire? How will I get out?’
He turned slowly, swivelling on his heels. ‘If there’s a fire, in the forty minutes I’ll be gone, then it was really fuckin’ nice knowing you.’
He slammed the door behind him and shook his head in amazement.
Little bitch was almost too smart. She might have given him her body last night, but he saw the fear in her eyes, the hate. She would be dangerous for a long time to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mariana
I sat on the floor in front of the washing machine and watched as the white sheets tumbled around and around, hot suds rinsing away the evidence of everything we’d done the night before. Not that it mattered. I could wash the sheets, hell, I could burn them, and it wouldn’t erase the invisible marks he’d left on my skin.
After Dornan had left, I’d cleaned up the table, disposing of the bloody bandages and the bullet that he had torn from his arm. Then, I’d had a shower and shampooed my hair until it squeaked between my fingers. Finally, I had stripped the sheets from the bed.
What I really wanted to do was go to the front door and scream and pound my fists until someone helped me out. I was starting to feel increasingly uneasy about my situation, especially in the wake of throwing myself at Dornan last night.
Este had been dead less than a month, and I’d gone and done that.
But I didn’t pound on the door, or scream for help, or any of the other dramatic scenarios I’d imagined. I found some bread in the freezer and fixed myself some toast, buttered thickly, and made another coffee. Then, partly to stop myself from anxiously pacing the front hall, I took my toast and coffee and sat on the floor in front of the washing machine.
It was an odd spot — I could have sat on the couch, or at the breakfast bar, even on the bed — but I’d chosen to sit in this small room and breathe in the artificial scent of sunshine, thanks to the fabric softener I’d located and added.
Sunshine. How I wanted some of that, for real. While I chewed on my toast, I tried to picture living here long-term. It made me think of the enormous risk Dornan had taken in bringing me here, somehow convincing Emilio not to sell me at auction, and although I doubted he would ever say anything about it, the fact that he seemed to give a fuck about what happened to me made a strange warmth crawl up my stomach and into my chest. Beyond the obvious physical attraction we had, the big bad biker seemed to genuinely care about me in his own fucked-up way.
I was still trying to figure out my thoughts when I heard the front door slam.
Damn.
I was meant to be ready to leave. He’d said that before he left. Shit! I scrabbled to my feet, forgetting about the sheets and the scent of fabric softener.
I dumped my plate and mug on the breakfast bar just in time to see Dornan standing in the hallway.
He dropped his helmet to the ground beside his feet, and I jumped when it crashed on the white porcelain tiles.
He stalked towards me. He looked angry.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. Jesus. Since when had I become a submissive girl? What was I apologising for, anyway?
I was tired, I realised. So bone-achingly tired, and I didn’t want him to get angry and leave me alone again for weeks.
‘I was washing the sheets,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll get dressed now.’
His expression morphed, that infuriating grin appearing on his mouth again. He didn’t say anything else, so I took that as permission to get dressed. I headed for the bedroom, giving him a wide berth.
Not that it mattered. It seemed that no matter how far apart we were, Dornan would always find a way to reach for me. He took a step forward and shot his hand out, curling his grip around my arm.
I didn’t struggle. I stood where I was, halfway between the kitchen and bedroom, his fingers digging deep into my skin.
‘Look at me,’ he commanded.
Slowly, I turned my gaze to meet his.
His eyes raked over me, like he knew he already had me.
And he did. His father might technically hold the deed over my life, but after last night, there was no mistaking who was in charge of me.
Dornan Ross.
I wanted to shiver, but I refused to let him see what he was doing to me.
He dropped his grip from my arm and stepped in front of me, reaching for the tie around my waist that knotted my robe shut. He pulled one end quickly, and the robe fell open. I gasped. I was completely naked underneath, and goosebumps broke out on every inch of my exposed skin, despite the Californian heat.
I started to close the thick material, but he slapped my hands away, pressing me backwards until my back hit the wall. It was pretty much the same place I’d stood last night when I’d pounced on him; tried to get him on my side.
He trailed one finger along my shoulder. With his other hand, he gripped the base of my throat. It wasn’t tight, but it was uncomfortable enough to relay the message. He was calling the shots.
‘You washed the sheets.’ It was a statement. I didn’t dare move.
I nodded.
‘Why?’
What did he mean, why?
‘Because they were dirty,’ I said hurriedly, frowning in confusion.
He appeared to think about that for a moment before releasing his grip and taking a step back.
‘Get dressed,’ he said. ‘You’ve got one minute. Go.’
I stumbled to the bedroom, fully aware that if I wasn’t dressed in one minute, he’d make me leave the house in my birthday suit. I dragged a denim skirt and panties from the closet and threw them on, followed by a bra and a black scoop-neck tank that clung to my breasts. There had been no pants in the bag of clothes he had left me a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t miss the significance of that.
I heard the click of fingers, and knew I’d narrowly escaped an outing in my underwear.
I quickly tried to grab a pair of shoes, but he was already there, blocking my way.
‘No shoes,’ he said. ‘Shoes make it that much easier to think about running.’
I gave a small nod to say I understood.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked dully, looking at the floor.
He took my hand and looked at me sidelong as he guided me to the front door.
‘You’ll see.’ The threat in his words was unmistakable.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Dornan
The road was rough — the sealed asphalt had gone as far as the main tourist drive of Joshua Tree National Park, but beyond, the corrugations were more rustic. He drove and drove, Mariana fidgeting beside him.
Finally, she spoke.
‘Can I have some water?’ she asked softly.
‘I’m thirsty,’ she protested.
He glared across at her, one hand going down to his belt. ‘There’s only one thing in this car that’s going in your mouth,’ he threatened. ‘Your choice, darlin’.’
She closed her mouth and slumped back in her seat, staring out of the side window.
Thought so. He put his hand back on the wheel. Damn, being a bastard came a little too easy to him sometimes. He almost delighted in her suffering.
‘Are you bringing me out here to kill me?’ she asked a few moments later.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘No.’
‘Seems an awfully convenient place to bury a body,’ she continued.
He snorted. ‘If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t waste my time driving to a national fucking park, baby.’
She nodded, apparently satisfied.
A few minutes later, they pulled up onto the shoulder of a narrow, dirt track.
‘Out,’ Dornan said.
She eyed him warily. ‘I don’t have shoes.’
He grinned. ‘I know.’
He got out and circled around, opening her door for her. Fuck, he was such a gentleman. The irony made him chuckle.
She stepped out, walking tentatively over rocks and scrubby ground-cover weeds, until she reached the back of the car.
‘Stay there,’ he said. He popped the trunk, taking out a sniper rifle that would make GI Joe’s eyes water. It had cost the Brothers a pretty penny, and Dornan guarded it like a precious diamond. He’d killed a couple of guys with it, blew them to pieces actually. He wasn’t a long-range marksman, but she didn’t know that.
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and gestured up the hill in front of them. ‘We’re going up there,’ he said. ‘If you dawdle, I’ll tie you to a fuckin’ tree and let the ants feast on those pretty bare feet.’
She gave him a blank stare before falling into step beside him.
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