by Julia Sykes
She would come around soon enough. Our chemistry was undeniable, and she’d definitely been attracted to me at breakfast yesterday morning. I had to convince her that I was every bit as much that man as I was the vicious protector she’d seen last night. She would adjust to the darker part of me over time, once she understood that I didn’t act in violence because I derived twisted enjoyment from it. Even though brutality didn’t faze me, I wasn’t inherently sadistic like Adrián.
Resisting my impulse to simply open the door and remove the barrier separating me from Sofia, I chose to knock.
A few seconds later, the door opened a crack, revealing an inch of her lovely face. “You knock now?” she asked dully.
I missed the fiery challenge in her tone. She’d acted up yesterday morning, and I’d enjoyed the push and pull with her.
Now, she sounded tired, even though she’d only just woken up. Her luminous skin was pale, the usual sparkle gone from her emerald eyes. Even her mahogany curls seemed to have lost their luster.
I’d been the one to break her like this, but I would fix her. I’d figured out what she needed.
Depriving her of touch and connection yesterday had been a terrible mistake. Sofia needed tactile stimulation, physical affection. Even when she’d been shaking and sobbing after her terror last night, she’d leaned into me when I offered comfort. She craved my reassuring touch.
“Yes,” I said. “I knock now.” I held out my hand, waiting for her to choose to take it. “Come on. It’s time for breakfast.”
Her gaze lowered to my hand, her lips plumping in a small pout. The little flash of emotional reaction confirmed that I was taking the right approach with her. I could coax her back into my arms with a little patience on my part.
“And what if I don’t come out for breakfast? Will there be more consequences?” She sounded more petulant than bitter, and the door eased open another inch. Her gaze was still fixed on my hand, as though it was a shiny object that she was tempted to take.
“Definitely,” I informed her, keeping my tone calm rather than forbidding. “But they won’t involve me leaving you alone in your room.”
She peeked up at me, a little spark of curiosity flashing in her lovely eyes. “What would they involve?”
I quirked my brow at her. “Do you want to find out?”
After only two seconds of indecision, she huffed, “Fine.” She opened the door wide and snatched my hand. “I’m hungry, anyway.”
I hadn’t stipulated that she had to hold my hand to avoid facing consequences; I’d simply told her that she had to eat breakfast.
But she clung on to me, her slender fingers firm around my palm. I was fairly certain she thought she was displaying some form of defiance by squeezing so hard, but it didn’t hurt me in the slightest.
She stalked down the hall, and I allowed her to pretend she was pulling me along to the kitchen with her. We both knew that I didn’t have to go anywhere I didn’t want to. It would be physically impossible for her to force me to move.
But I much preferred this spirited version of Sofia to the sad, spiteful woman I’d left in solitary confinement yesterday. So, I indulged her. Besides, she was kind of adorable when she was fuming. My angry little kitten.
I intended to cuddle her close and make her purr.
When we reached the kitchen, I extricated myself from her hold and picked up one of the stools at the kitchen island, moving it next to the stove. I patted the plush black velvet seat.
“This is where you sit,” I informed her. “Optimal viewing position for a chef-in-training.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, making me wonder if she was hiding her peaked nipples.
That was probably best for both of us, given my newly-imposed rules. Resisting the urge to fuck Sofia was already giving me blue balls, and I was making things even harder on myself by depriving her of underwear.
That issue would be resolved in a few hours, thank god.
I patted the chair again. “Up you get,” I prompted. “I cook, you watch.”
She hesitated for a second longer before she rolled her eyes and hopped up onto the stool with an exaggerated huff.
“Are Drama classes part of your Music degree?” I teased.
She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at me.
I chuckled and started getting out the ingredients I would need to make breakfast. She didn’t manage to stew in silence for even a full minute.
“I’m a Theater minor, I’ll have you know,” she said in an accusatory tone.
I shot her a smirk. “That doesn’t surprise me. You do have a knack for the dramatic. Are you sure you don’t want to double major?”
“You’re infuriating,” she said on a soft growl. “It should be illegal to be so annoying before breakfast.”
“You’re just hangry. Don’t worry, little kitten. I’ll feed you soon.”
“Oh my god.” She threw up her hands in exasperation, but her cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t know they let hardened criminals use silly words like hangry.” She tried for spite, but now that she’d moved her arms, I had a clear view of her hard nipples against the gray cotton of my t-shirt.
I shrugged, forcing my gaze to her face. “Everyone gets angry when they’re hungry. But you seem particularly susceptible to it. Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”
She quickly crossed her arms over her chest again, her lashes flying wide as she realized that she’d given me a clear view of her nipples.
“I don’t usually see this time of morning at all,” she grumbled. “I made sure I wasn’t scheduled for any classes before ten AM this semester.”
“Poor florecita,” I said with exaggerated pity. “Don’t you know little flowers need morning sunshine? No wonder you’re so grouchy. You’re not getting enough vitamin D.”
“I’m not grouchy,” she insisted.
“You are right now,” I countered. “Here, nibble on this while I cook.” I offered her a chunk of cheddar cheese from the block I’d grated to fold into the eggs.
She snatched the morsel out of my hand and popped it into her mouth, glaring at me as though she’d somehow challenged me.
I grinned and turned my attention to finishing my task. I didn’t intend to get distracted by her and burn breakfast again. I wanted her to enjoy every aspect of her meal this morning.
As I went through the motions of making omelets, Sofia’s posture gradually relaxed. I wasn’t sure if it was the little nugget of cheese that had improved her mood or if she was simply forgetting to be annoyed with me.
Despite her swings of emotional upheaval over the last two days, Sofia was remarkably resilient. Her default demeanor was cheery, and nothing seemed to keep her down for long. Even when she’d argued with me, I’d never seen her in a true rage. Given the circumstances, she had every right to be angry, and I admired that she’d advocated for herself rather than cowering from me.
She asked a few questions about my technique while I was cooking, her natural curiosity soothing her irritation further. By the time I plated the omelets and set them down on the kitchen island, all of her grumpiness had melted away.
She tried to pick up the stool she’d been sitting on to return it to its usual place.
“Leave it there,” I ordered before she could lift it.
“But where will I sit?”
I patted my thigh. “Right here.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly. She stared at me, her gaze flicking from my face to my lap and back again.
“Mateo.” She said my name breathlessly. “I don’t know…”
I tapped two fingers against my knee, silently coaxing her. I didn’t have to issue a verbal command. She would choose to come to me. She wanted the contact, craved it just as keenly as I did.
She took a hesitant step toward me, her eyes searching mine. “Won’t it be weird if I sit on your lap?”
“No, florecita,” I promised her as she took another step closer. “It won’t
be weird. You’ll like it. And so will I.”
Slowly, she closed the distance between us. Just before she was close enough to touch, she stalled. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and a little furrow appeared between her brows. She clasped her hands together, her fingers knotting.
“I should be afraid of you,” she whispered.
“No,” I reassured her. “You shouldn’t. I will never hurt you, Sofia. I just want to take care of you. Let me.”
She inched closer, as though she couldn’t hold herself back.
“I’m going to help you up.” I lifted my hands to her hips, moving slowly enough that she had time to stop me if she wanted to.
She didn’t stop me. Her eyes closed as soon as I gripped her waist, and she blew out a long sigh. Even this simple touch seemed to ease her anxiety in a way my words couldn’t.
By the time I shifted her body and had her curled up on my lap, she’d completely relaxed into my hold.
“Does this feel weird?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. Sofia wasn’t the only one affected by our connection.
“No,” she admitted, tilting her head into the crook of my neck. “You smell good.” She took a deep inhale. “God, you’re like weed or something.”
“What?” I tried to smother a laugh. “I smell like weed? I’m pretty sure I should be offended.”
“No, I mean…” She breathed deeply, and I felt her melt against me. “You smell like pine and…I don’t know. Man. You smell like man. It makes me feel good. Like, really chilled out and relaxed.”
“Does it make you feel safe?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she admitted on a sigh. “I feel safe with you, Mateo. I probably shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Trust your instincts. You’re safer in my arms than anywhere else on Earth. I swear.”
She snuggled in closer, and that addicting warmth she elicited unfurled in the center of my chest.
Sofia might still feel conflicted about what she’d seen me do to those men last night, but her body recognized me as her protector. Somewhere deep in her psyche, her primal brain trusted me, even though she questioned that on a rational level.
I just needed to allay her justifiable concerns. Proving that I could provide for her and care for her was a good place to start.
Keeping one arm braced around her shoulders, I reached forward with my free hand and picked up a fork. She shifted to do the same, but I flexed my hold on her a bit tighter, directing her to stay put. She responded instantly, settling back against me and dropping her hand into her lap.
I speared a bite-sized portion of the omelet on the fork and lifted it to her lips. She blinked up at me, the little wrinkle appearing between her brows again.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking care of you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of eating breakfast without your help.” The assertion came out on a soft, questioning tone rather than being issued as a hard challenge. Sofia was interested in what I was offering, but she didn’t understand it. I knew she wasn’t anywhere near ready for me to explain the complexities of what I wanted from her.
Submission. Devotion. Trust.
And a power exchange that involved sexual deviancy that would shock my innocent little flower to her core.
For now, I would work on trust, and I would test her submissive tendencies soon.
“I know you’re capable of eating your own breakfast, but I want to help.”
When she continued to study me as if I was a particularly difficult puzzle, I pressed her. “It will make me happy, Sofia.”
“Okay,” she breathed, agreeing instantly. My good girl wanted to please me.
I swallowed a hungry growl and tamped down my answering arousal. A hard-on pressing into her ass wouldn’t do wonders for my cause at the moment. I wouldn’t risk spooking her.
She continued watching me when she parted her lips to accept the first bite, searching my features. My mouth curved in a genuine smile when she accepted what I offered, my expression of pleasure untainted by mockery or dark amusement.
She swallowed and offered a shy smile of her own in return. “I still think this is kind of weird,” she admitted.
“But you like it, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Her smile took on a wry twist. “You were right. I do like it.”
I didn’t feel the slightest impulse to gloat over being proven right. This wasn’t a game with a winner and a loser. As long as Sofia enjoyed exploring this dynamic with me, we would both win. I intended to introduce her to my more perverted needs in a way that ensured she became just as addicted to me as I was to her. By the time she accepted that she was mine, she would submit to my every deviant demand and beg for more.
“Good,” I declared, fighting back my arousal by focusing on her sweetness. “I like it, too.”
When I lifted the second forkful to her lips, she protested. “What about you? Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I take care of you first,” I replied. “Always.”
Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, and she accepted the nourishment I offered. She didn’t hesitate or protest again; she simply surrendered to what was happening between us, adapting to my control beautifully.
After she’d eaten every bite of her omelet and finished her glass of orange juice, I tucked into my own portion. The eggs had cooled slightly while I was feeding her, but I didn’t care. It was the best fucking breakfast of my life.
She rested her cheek on my shoulder as I ate, quiet and content. We’d made remarkable progress in the space of a couple hours. Not long ago, she’d been peeking at me through a cracked bedroom door, hurt and wary. Now, she was all sweetness and softness, relaxing against me with no thought of spite or bitterness.
When I’d cleaned my plate, I glanced down and noted her eyes were closed, her features serene.
Over the years, I’d imagined her writhing and begging for orgasmic release, or screaming out my name when she came. My filthy, crude brain hadn’t been capable of conjuring up a purer, equally satisfying fantasy where she drifted off into bliss in my arms.
The warmth in my chest expanded, washing outward through my body in a slow wave. I brushed my fingertips over her cheek, marveling at how soft and delicate she was.
She made a little humming noise and leaned into my touch.
My breath stuttered. I didn’t deserve this level of trust. I’d craved to possess it, but I hadn’t done enough to earn it. And yet, Sofia offered it freely, so easily that I suspected she’d been fighting her nature when she’d expressed doubt in me.
Yesterday, I’d accused her of being foolish for trusting anyone and everyone. The world was a dangerous place, and I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her most people weren’t good or kind.
But Sofia was good to her core.
That goodness made her vulnerable. It had made her susceptible to her father’s lies, and he’d hurt her deeply with his deception. It made her susceptible to me.
When I’d entered her apartment, stalked her into a corner, and slipped a needle in her neck, she’d seemed confused by my actions rather than horrified. As though she truly couldn’t imagine a world in which I was a person to be feared.
I was surer of my decision to keep her for myself than ever. Sofia needed to be protected, and no one would be more devoted to preserving her sweet nature than me. She might have been dragged out of her falsely safe bubble and into the cruel reality of our criminal underworld, but I would shelter her from the darkest parts of it.
We had established trust. It was time to work on her submission.
“Sofia,” I murmured, stroking the column of her neck with a feather-light touch. “It’s time to talk about your punishment.”
Chapter 10
Sofia
“What?” I asked, his statement not quite penetrating the warm fog that blanketed my thoughts.
“You tried to run away last night.” His deep voice rolled through my mi
nd like slow thunder, soft and rumbly. “I warned you that there would be consequences if you tried to escape.”
Consequences. Unease stirred as a flash of my feelings from my period of isolation disrupted my happy place. I pressed myself closer to him, my fingers curling in his shirt.
“I don’t want you to shut me in the bedroom by myself again,” I said, my voice small. “I don’t like being alone.”
“I know you don’t.” He soothed me, massaging my scalp with his long fingers. “I won’t punish you like that ever again. I thought I was going easy on you, but I was mistaken. You need to be touched.”
I nodded my agreement, loving the feel of his huge hands stroking my body with such tender care. I definitely didn’t want him to stop touching me.
“I’m sorry I tried to leave,” I said with complete honesty. “I was just scared. I won’t do it again.”
“I know you won’t, dulzura. That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve earned a punishment.”
I peeked up at him. His features were relaxed, his dark eyes hooded with the drugged appearance I’d first noted on the night he abducted me. He didn’t appear threatening at all.
But he was saying he wanted to punish me.
“I don’t understand why you’re talking about punishing me if you know I won’t try to leave again,” I said, more curious than argumentative. “You don’t seem to be mad at me. Are you mad at me?”
“No, florecita. I’m not mad. And if I were, I wouldn’t discipline you until I cooled off. I will never punish you because I’m angry with you.”
“Then why?”
“Because you disobeyed me, Sofia. I warned you there would be consequences if you did. I’m going to discipline you for that.”
“I still don’t get it. If I don’t want to escape, why is this necessary?”
“Because the transgression isn’t erased just because you’ve changed your mind since then. When you’re with me, I’m in charge. That means I take care of you.”
“But you just took care of me by making me breakfast,” I protested.
“Sometimes, taking care of you means discipline.”