by Nicole Fox
I refuse to break eye contact first. He needs to believe that I really want this. And in trying to convince him, I realize that maybe I’ve convinced myself in the process.
Excitement and nerves curve together in the pit of my stomach. And suddenly, I find myself eager. Have I just given myself an excuse to enter into unchartered territory with a man who’s supposed to be my enemy? Is my need to escape just a flimsy justification for the attraction and desire I feel for him?
I don’t have time to doubt myself, though. The window of opportunity is narrow.
Kian’s watching me intently. If my resolve slips even slightly, he’ll know. Even if he doesn’t see it, he’ll smell it on me. I’m sure of it.
“You’re ready?” Kian echoes dangerously, moving forward.
The way he approaches me is predatory. His body is graceful, but I know he can turn lethal at any second. He’s trying to intimidate me—and he’s succeeding.
“You’re sure you can handle this?”
“I…”
Give him the truth and he won’t be able to question your sincerity.
“Well, no, I’m not sure,” I admit. “But I still want to try.”
“Because you want me to trust you.”
“I want you to know I’m sorry for misjudging you. For assuming you were just like Drago or Rokiades or Logan.”
He stares down at me, leaning in slightly, so that his breath tickles my nose. “You might find that I’m just like them,” he warns, his voice deep and guttural.
I jut out my jaw and look at him with stubborn resolve. “I don’t think so,” I say carefully. “I don’t think so at all.”
I can see the faint fluttering of a smile, but it never fully materializes.
“Alright, kitten,” he whispers. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He smirks. “I’m in charge here, remember?”
I frown right back at him. “We haven’t started yet.”
“On the contrary, Renata Lombardi,” he intones, “we started this a long fucking time ago.”
41
Kian
Renata’s eyes blaze with a ferocious kind of determination that’s got me hard as fucking rock. She’s a woman on a mission. The question is… what’s the objective?
I have a feeling this is the only way to find out.
I move closer and gently uncuff her. A part of me is still wary. If this is a ploy, it’s a damn good one.
It’s all in the eyes. My brothers and I have lived by that creed our entire lives. This is the first time I’ve fallen back on that saying, only to find myself still languishing in uncertainty.
She looks sincere. She sounds sincere, too. But I’m not sure if my own desires are tainting my perception of her sudden willingness to submit to me.
One thing’s for sure: I can’t ignore my needs any longer.
I’d hoped that fucking Renata the other day might quell my desire for her. I’d never gone back to the same woman twice. Not since Annabelle. For almost twenty years, it’s been the rule that keeps me sane. Soothe my hunger once, and then send the woman in question packing, never to be seen again. It’s worked. My life has been manageable. My needs have been tamed.
That is, until Renata arrived.
She’d fucked me hard enough to turn me into a beast. I’d ripped the cuffs right off the chair and devoured her like both our lives depended on it. It was unlike anything else I’ve ever done before. And for one brief, blissful second, I thought it would be enough.
I was wrong.
That one coupling hadn’t done anything to stop my desire for her. In fact, it had only inflamed it. Since the moment I let myself taste her, I’ve wanted to take Renata again the way she ought to be taken.
Down here.
In The Room.
With all the tools and toys I need to break her the way she’s begging to be broken.
I’ve barely slept in the nights since we fucked. Too busy wondering what was going through her head. Too busy wondering what it would mean to violate the one rule I’ve lived by for so goddamn long.
But as she straightens in front of me now, I can see my desire reflected in her eyes. Her lips part slowly, her chest rises and falls slowly and her hard nipples stab through the sheer fabric of her shirt.
How the fuck am I supposed to resist that?
I toss the cuffs to the side. She watches them clatter against the floor a few feet away from us.
“Won’t we need those?” she asks.
“We’re going to start with something different.”
Her breath hikes up a little and her eyes go wide. “Oh. Okay. So what do I…?”
“Strip.”
She takes a moment, swallows hard. And then she starts removing her clothes without argument. She does so slowly, sensually, and every now and again, she glances back at me. I watch her intently until she’s standing naked in front of me.
Her body is taut and impressive. Her hips lithe and supple. Her breasts high and plump.
She’s my fucking wet dream made reality.
I scour her with my gaze and then I start to circle her slowly. I’m still fully clothed, and I know it’s a dichotomy that she’s not wholly comfortable with. But she bites her lip and says nothing.
I can tell she’s trying so hard to figure out the rules of the dance here. But that’s the fun part—I’m the only one who knows them.
My cock jumps impatiently, brushing against the crotch of my trousers. I’m determined not to rush this experience for either one of us, though. She deserves to see it done right.
As I circle her, I let my fingers trail around her body. I brush against her breasts and run my hand over her cheeks. I resist the urge to slap her ass. There’ll be time enough for that later.
I stop behind her. After a second, she turns around to face me.
“I didn’t tell you to turn around,” I growl.
Her jaw juts out. “I want you to kiss me.”
“That’s not how this works, Renata.”
She narrows her eyes, but she knows it’s not a true rejection. It’s just another part of the game. Another step of the dance. I leave her standing there and walk over to the massive black cabinet in the center of the back wall of the room.
I pick out padded wrist-to-thigh cuffs, then turn back to Renata. “Follow me,” I instruct her.
Frowning, she follows me towards the back of the room. There’s a thick black curtain that serves as a door. I pull the curtain to the side and gesture for her to walk through.
“There’s another room here?” she asks.
“Go in and find out.”
She steps tentatively past the black curtain. I enter after her.
The side room is comparatively small, but the bed at the center of the space is not. The sheets are black silk and they seem to swallow up all the light.
She glances at me, but doesn’t comment. “Sit on the bed,” I command her.
She hesitates, but she does as she’s told. I approach her with the wrist and thigh cuffs and she eyes them warily. I pop them open and start strapping her in.
She watches carefully as I make sure the wrist cuffs are secure. Then I connect them to the thigh cuffs, forcing her legs to bend apart.
Her beautiful pussy is on full display now. Her movement is limited, but she’s still not completely restricted. She tries to adjust herself, but the pressure doesn’t have her moving the way she wants to.
I see a ripple of fear flush over her eyes as she realizes how completely at my mercy she is. I’m standing over her, my cock at the ready.
And she’s lying underneath me, her wrists tethered to her thighs, forcing her into a position of extreme vulnerability.
I keep my eyes on her as I start to remove my clothes. That seems to calm her down a little. Her eyes pop when I release my cock from my pants. Even more so when I grab my shaft and give it a few pumps before getting down on my knees in front of her open pussy. I notice she strains he
r neck up to see what I’m going to do.
I like that she can’t see properly. She can only loll her head backwards on the sheets to stare up at the ceiling and wait for whatever I decide comes next.
I run my fingers up and down her slit. She bucks slightly and lets loose an involuntary gasp, though she quickly bites it back down.
I keep going until she gets used to the movement. After a few minutes, she relaxes. Once her body is less tense, I lean in and run my tongue up and down her slit. She’s getting wet, but I want her dripping before I enter her.
My cock is impatient already. More so than ever before. But I’ve trained my iron will over the years. I can wait a few more minutes.
As my tongue probes her soft folds, she gasps, and I can feel her body responding to the new sensations catapulting through her. The fact that she can’t really touch me the way she wants is only going to enhance the experience.
Her fingers twitch in agitation, but I keep eating her out until my tongue is pushed as deep into her pussy as it can go.
“Fuck,” she gasps, twitching, and I feel another wave of moisture coat my tongue.
As she’s moaning, I unleash my tongue on her. Sucking and licking quickly, trying to tease the orgasm out of her before I enter her.
She’s covered in goosebumps, her body shuddering uncontrollably as I introduce her to new levels of pleasure. When she comes, she drenches my short beard. I lick my lips and savor the sweetness.
After her labored breathing eases, I wipe myself off on the edge of the bedsheet and get to my feet slowly. Her breasts are trembling and there’s a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. Her eyes are closed when I stand, but she opens them slowly. They’re hazy, filled with lust and a contented sense of satisfaction.
I give her a knowing smile. “It’s not so bad, is it?” I ask. “Giving everything up to me.”
“Make it worse,” she tells me defiantly.
“Oh, Renata,” I sigh longingly, shaking my head. “We’re only just getting started.”
The haze of desire never leaves her eyes.
I position myself right between her soft thighs and she tenses all over again. That is until, my cock lines up with her wet pussy and I shove myself inside her.
Then she screams.
But I don’t slow down. I don’t ask her if she’s okay. I don’t have to—I know she is. The delirious look on her face is the expression of a woman in freefall.
I fuck her ravenously, slamming my hips against hers until she’s screaming again and gasping and moaning in ever increasing volumes. As I thrust, I reach out and twist her nipples with both hands. She winces against the unexpected pain, but she doesn’t look scared. She looks like she wants more.
I’m dangerously close to coming already, but I pull out before I can. I’m not ready for this to be over yet. Not by a long shot.
She cranes her neck up, looking at me with a clouded expression. “Why’d you stop?” she pants, clearly chasing another orgasm.
In answer, I grab her and turn her around. She gasps as though I’ve knocked the wind right out of her. I re-position her on all fours on the bed. This time, her ass is in the air, giving me a new view of her tight little pussy.
Because of the wrist cuffs, her hands are pulled into her body, as close to her thighs as possible, but she manages to hold her balance. She’s still trembling, but I can sense the excitement rising off her.
She’s enjoying this more than she thought she would.
I give her ass a hard slap that draws a delightful yelp. Then I leave her facedown on the bed and wander over to the thin cabinet in the corner. I don’t offer her any explanations.
When I return, the imprint of my hand is still on her ass. Red and sharp against that beautiful olive skin. I slap it again on the other side. She jerks forward, stifling another scream.
Then I snap the collar around her neck.
“What are you doing?” she asks, clearly taken back by this new piece of bondage.
“Making you mine,” I tell her shortly as I attach the short leather strap that connects to the hook at the back of the collar.
Once it’s fastened properly, I pull on it gently at first like a pair of reins. Her neck cranes back and she lets out a small growl of complaint.
“That’s a good girl.” Smiling, I ram myself inside her again.
My hips smash against her juicy ass and she lets out a sound that’s a cross between a moan and a scream. I start to fuck harder and faster, harder and faster. With every increase in speed, I pull the leash tighter. Until she’s choking for air and the veins in her neck are bulging out. I can’t see her face but I can hear her spluttering, whimpering.
I manage to get in three more slow, deep thrusts before my willpower crumbles in the face of her perfect fucking ass.
I drive myself into her, making her cheeks bounce wildly with every thrust. I pull on her collar the hardest yet and her neck tilts back even further as she takes my cock with whimpers that push me closer and closer to the edge.
With her last bit of air, she moans my name. “Kian, I’m going to come…”
I let the reins loose and unleash myself on her at the same time, thrusting into her pussy so hard that I literally fuck the final orgasm out of her.
As she comes, I empty shot after shot into my enemy’s daughter.
And a few moments later, my body goes limp. But before I collapse onto the bed in exhaustion, I make sure to unstrap Renata.
Once she’s free from the cuffs, I fall back onto the bed alongside her. I’m covered in sweat now just like she is.
She curls against me. Her breathing is still heavy, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leans in, pushing her breasts along my ribs for a moment before they settle against my chest.
“That was… intense,” she says.
“You don’t look as destroyed as I would like,” I chuckle.
She gives me a small smile. But it looks a little sad. “Maybe next time.”
“Maybe.”
“But for now… it’s my turn.”
I frown. “What are you—” But she’s already moving, snapping the cuffs in place.
For a second, I think she’s just trying to turn the tables on me and ride me like she had the first time. But then I catch sight of her expression.
The nervousness. The guilt.
“Renata,” I growl, “what the fuck are you doing?”
I struggle against my cuffs as I sit up. She’s got me well and truly trapped between the bedposts.
She moves forward and drops a kiss on my cheek before backing away.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and I see the regret in her eyes. “But I have to take control of my own life now.”
That’s when it dawns on me.
Renata Lombardi isn’t a pawn anymore.
She’s a player. And she’s just played me.
42
Renata
I know it’ll only be a matter of time before Kian figures out a way to free himself of the cuffs, so I fly through the house, trying to be as fast and as careful as possible.
I’ve been keeping tabs on the comings and goings of the mansion planning for something like this. I’ve rarely seen Kian’s men inside. They’re usually stationed at the gates, so there’s no way I can get out through any of the main entrances without catching their attention.
But I have a plan. It’s bold, it’s risky, and I have no idea if it’ll work, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
Instead of heading through the back of the house that leads to the ocean, I snake left and head to the cellar where I know my brother is being kept. I know there’s at least one guard stationed outside his cell door. So before heading down, I grab a long wooden ornament from one of the common areas.
I barely know what I’m holding, and I don’t care. It’s heavy enough that I know it’ll do the job.
When I step into the cellar, I scan the area quickly. The guard on duty—Donovan, I think his name is—is sitting on a chair
just outside the cell. His head is bent forward, clearly in the throes of sleep. I sneak closer, realizing that his eyes are fluttering.
He’s not deeply asleep. And my footsteps are enough to stir him back to consciousness. Just as his eyes open, I smash the wooden ornament across his face.
He collapses immediately, sliding off the chair and thumping onto the floor. It makes a bigger sound that I anticipated, so I snap my head towards the staircase, expecting an army of Irishmen to come shove a dozen guns in my face.
Three seconds tick by and nothing happens.
Move, Renata! I yell at myself. You don’t have much time.
I grab the key hanging off the unconscious guard’s belt and use it to open the cell. Drago looks up at me, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“What was that noise?” he asks.
“The sound of your guard going down,” I tell him. “Come on, we don’t have much time. We’ve got to go.”
His eyes go wide as he realizes that he’s not going to die in this cell. I rush around and check the restraints they’ve put on him. They’re pretty easy to remove and I manage it without much difficulty.
“Fucking hurry up,” he growls, offering precisely no help whatsoever. “They could catch us at any moment.”
I dig my nails into his wrist.
“Ouch!”
“Shut up,” I hiss. “Do you want to alert the whole fucking house?”
His mouth falls closed, but he doesn’t look happy about it. He groans when I unwind the rope off his broken arm. It looks painful, but my sympathy for his suffering is limited. A taste of his own medicine is probably long overdue.
“Come on.”
“Do you have a way out of here?” he asks.
“I might,” I reply. “Come on and don’t make noise.”
He follows me back up to the first floor of the house. I hold my hand up while I check outside the door. It looks clear, so I gesture him forward. He sticks to me like a second skin as we make our way to the back of the house.
“This can’t be the way out,” he says. There’s panic in his voice, and for some reason, that gives me a strange sense of satisfaction. It feels good to take charge when the people around you are scrambling to keep up.