by Hannah Ford
BECAUSE HE DECEIVES ME
(Because He Owns Me, Book Eight)
Hannah Ford
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1. BECAUSE HE DECEIVES ME
Copyright © 2016 by Hannah Ford
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BECAUSE HE DECEIVES ME
(Because He Owns Me, Book Eight)
ADRIANA
I stared at the closed elevator and twisted my hands together nervously. I could hear Callum and Brendan talking and laughing through the doors as the car began its descent down to the lobby.
And then the sound faded away and I was left alone in my new apartment.
An uneasiness settled itself in my stomach, the kind of uneasiness that came from being in unfamiliar surroundings. The apartment was beautiful, the furniture immaculate, the fixtures and finishes shiny and modern, but there was nothing here that was mine, nothing that comforted me or gave me a sense of the familiar.
I wandered down the hall back toward the bedroom, marveling at the expensive abstract art in shades of turquoise and chocolate that lined the walls, at the small taste of this new world of money and power I’d been given.
But the whole time all I could think about was him.
Callum.
His name flash banged itself against my brain, images of us together imprinting themselves in my mind.
His hands on my body, his kiss on my lips, his taste, his touch, his stare.
I made my way through the bedroom and into the master bath.
I stood by the huge Jacuzzi tub.
It was deep and pristine white, surrounded by a ledge made from gleaming marble. The ledge was lined with an assortment of lotions and bubble baths, all of them expensive-looking, all of them in various shades of blue. Obviously they’d been set up by the realtor or decorator in an effort to make the room seem calming.
I picked up a glass bottle filled with turquoise bath beads and uncorked it. The scent was heavenly – it smelled like a summer’s day at the beach, the kind of day where you let the sun fry your skin while you laid on your towel and sifted the sand between your toes, drifting off to sleep while tasting the salt water in the air.
Thinking about the ocean made me think about Callum, when we’d gone to Florida together, the way he’d touched me in the pool, the things we’d done in his bedroom, how he’d cuffed me to his bedpost while he fucked me rough and hard.
My breath caught in my chest, and I realized I was squeezing the bottle tight in my hands. I began to set it back down on the ledge, but then I remembered that I lived here, that it was my apartment and that if I wanted to use the bath beads, no one could stop me.
So I uncorked the bottle and started the bath water, then poured a bunch of the tiny beads under the stream before removing my clothes and lowering myself into the tub, letting the warm water envelope my body.
I placed my phone next to me on the marble, hoping that at some point Callum would text me. I felt jittery, worrying that he was going to end up drinking again.
I grabbed a washcloth, folded it up and stuck it behind my head like a pillow, then took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind.
But I couldn’t relax.
He was still all I could think about.
He consumed my thoughts, my feelings, my whole entire being.
He’d told me he loved me, and the thought of the words on his lips sent flutters through my stomach and caused my heart to thrum against my ribs.
But how could that be true, with the way he was acting, just taking off like that with a friend I knew was trouble?
Annoyance raced through me, and I felt anger bloom in my chest and my heart rate speed up even more.
Why was Callum allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted while I was expected to do whatever he said? No drinking, no anti-anxiety drugs, no wearing the clothes I wanted, no asking him personal questions.
My hands curled into fists under the water, and yet at the same time, I felt a pulsing desire between my legs as I thought about the way his eyes blazed with jealousy when he’d seen me talking to another man at Aubrey’s book party, how he’d taken me back to his apartment and bent me over the couch, punishing me with his belt.
My pussy flooded with moisture.
You like this, Callum’s voice whispered in my ear. You like being a dirty little girl for me, you like when I take control of you.
I could almost feel his breath tickling the sensitive spot behind my ear and my pussy got even wetter, my clit throbbing with need for him.
I took another deep breath, the scent of the perfumed water filling my nose.
But I still couldn’t relax.
I got out of the bath, dried off and dressed in pajamas I found in the closet.
I crawled into the huge-king sized bed and snuggled into the soft sheets, watching the huge TV that was mounted on the wall until I dropped into a fitful sleep.
When I woke, the air was dark and still and the tv was off – it must have been on a timer.
The sound of male laughter was drifting down the hall from the kitchen.
“Dude,” I heard Brendan say. “Fuck, dude, you are so fucking rich.” Then he laughed again. I grabbed for my phone and checked the time. 3:11 am.
Three in the morning and Callum was just getting home. And he’d brought Brendan with him.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, trying to keep myself calm, then got out of bed and stomped down the hall.
Brendan was sitting at the kitchen table, shoulders slumped, his hair messy, his clothes wrinkled. There was a bottle of Corona clutched in his hand. The two of them must have stopped at the store on their way back here. Lovely.
“Hey!” Brendan said, raising his bottle toward me and tipping it in a friendly greeting. “Hey, Callum’s girlfriend! I’m sorry, sweetheart, I forgot your name.”
“It’s Adriana,” I said, not bothering to try to keep the annoyance out of my voice. My eyes flicked to the other side of the kitchen, where Callum was bent over, his back to me as he rummaged through the refrigerator. When he straightened up, he was holding two packages of lunch meat.
“Hey, baby,” he said easily, his tone laced with flirtiness. While Brendan looked a mess, Callum looked perfectly put together. He’d obviously changed out of his suit before they’d gone out, and now he was wearing a soft-looking blue sweater that matched his eyes and clung to the defined muscles of his broad chest. Dark baggy jeans hung low on his slim hips, and sparkling white sneakers completed the look. His leather jacket was resting on the counter.
His body language was relaxed, carefree, but then his eyes raked up my body, his expression darkening as he took in what I was wearing – the pair of pajamas I’d found in the closet, which consisted of a thin baby blue tank top and a pair matching shorts. Callum set the packages of lunchmeat down on the counter. “Adriana,” he said, his voice hard as steel. “Please go back to the bedroom.”
I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I thought he might have been slurring his words as he said my name. Had he been drinking? I di
dn’t want to go back to the bedroom, didn’t want to do anything he said. In fact, I wanted to defy him, to push back on him for making me nervous, for leaving me alone all night and making me worry.
“No,” I said. “I’m not going to – ”
“Oh, shit,” Brendan said, and for a second, I thought he was remarking on the fact that Callum and I were about to get into a fight. But then he clutched at the table with one hand and bent over, grabbing his knees with the other. “I don’t feel so good,” he moaned. “I need the bathroom.”
“Down the hall,” Callum instructed. “First door on the right.”
Brendan sprung up from his chair, pushing by me as he rushed down the hall. I recoiled. He smelled like cigarettes and alcohol and heavy cologne. It was not the kind of smell you got just from going out to dinner.
They’d definitely been out partying.
Brendan ran into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, and a second later, the sound of retching echoed through the hallway.
Callum strode down the hall after him. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah,” Brendan said, and then he was throwing up again.
Callum shut the bathroom door and then came back down the hallway toward me. “Hi,” he said, giving me a cocky smile.
“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t ‘hi’ me.”
“Aww, don’t be like that, baby.” He pushed his body up against mine, his hips pinning me to the wall behind me. “I missed you.” His strong hands slid up my sides, over the curve of my hip, his touch warm through the thin material of my tiny pajamas.
“Callum,” I said, trying to wrench out of his grasp. “This isn’t okay.” But he held me tight, so I pulled away as best I could and looked at him. His eyes blazed bright blue and I had that same sensation I always did when our gazes locked, like I was tumbling headfirst into a free fall, like I was floating uncontrollably through open air.
And then he pressed his mouth to mine and we were kissing and I could taste the alcohol on his lips, dangerous and sweet, and my stomach dropped to my toes.
This time when I wrenched away from him, he let me go.
I started walking down the hall back toward the bedroom. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Yeah, so?” he asked, his tone filled with that lilting, flirty tone he’d used on me back in the kitchen. “I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re worried about.” He began to follow me.
When we reached the bedroom, I turned around to face him, crossing my arms over my chest and studying his face for signs he was lying. He didn’t seem drunk. Besides that tiny little slur and the taste of alcohol when he kissed me, I wouldn’t have been able to tell he’d been drinking.
I shook my head, refusing to be taken in by his semantics. “That’s not the point.”
“What’s not the point?” he teased, and then he was moving toward me. He took my arms from where they were crossed over my chest and forced them down to my sides, his eyes lingering on my body. My nipples hardened under his gaze and I flushed.
“The point isn’t whether or not you’re drunk, it’s that you’ve been drinking at all.” I placed my hands flat against his strong chest and attempted to push him away again, but he held me firmly in place, his hand slipping up under the back of my tank top as he pulled me even closer to him until I could feel the bulge in his pants.
“Do you know how hard my dick has been all night?” he breathed into my ear. “Thinking about getting home to your body?”
His hand moved from the back of my shirt to the front, his hand cupping my breast through the sheer material of my tank top. I shivered as his thumb brushed over the raised peak of my nipple.
“Do you like when I touch you like that, baby?” he whispered against my neck, and it was just like I’d imagined earlier when I was lying in the tub, only so much better, so much more intense. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, my body on high alert, my knees weakening as the urge to submit to him threatened to take over.
“Callum,” I said, and my voice broke at the end. “I’m worried about you. You can’t go out drinking like that and just not call or text or anything. It’s not okay.” I struggled against him, but he kept me close. The hardness in his pants pushed against my stomach, and I could feel my resolve weakening.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” he said easily. And then he was kissing me again, his hand gripping the back of my neck and tangling with my hair as his mouth crashed into mine.
He tasted like a mix of lemon and darkness and rum, and his lips on mine made me dizzy, his tongue probing my mouth as the stubble on his chin rubbed against my skin, leaving me raw and wanting.
When he pulled back, his blue eyes were blazing with hot desire. The room was dark except for the tiny bit of light that was shining in from the window, and it illuminated the side of his face, leaving half of him in darkness and the other half in light, and it served to made him look even more wild and dangerous than he already was.
“Callum, please,” I tried again, but my voice was weak, and he bit his bottom lip briefly to keep from smiling, to keep me from seeing the look of satisfaction on his face that came from knowing he would have me, that he would do whatever he wanted and I would go along with it no matter how much I might protest.
“Shh,” he said, and his finger was on my lips, trailing down over my neck, down over my skimpy pajamas, down my stomach and into my panties and I gasped as his finger slid right inside of me, brushing against my clit without asking or expecting permission. “You’re so wet, Lemon,” he said wickedly. “I think you’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you, baby?”
Emotion welled in my chest as he reached behind him and pulled at his sweater, shucking it off in one quick motion, his biceps flexing with the smooth movement. His shoulders were cut and defined, his chest smooth and tan, his stomach flat and ridged with muscle.
My breath stuck in my chest at his beauty, at the perfection of his body.
He was only a foot away from me, and I knew it was impossible, but I felt like I could feel the heat coming off his body, enveloping me. He was like a magnetic force field, and the temptation of him was too great.
I took a step back.
“Oh, no. Don’t even think about it.” He reached for me and pulled me back to him. “You can run but you can’t hide,” he whispered and then he was kissing me again, his hands sliding down my body to my ass as he lifted me up off the floor, pushing his pelvis in between my legs and forcing me to wrap them around his waist.
“You feel that?” he asked, grinding himself into me. “You feel how hard you make my dick, baby?”
I nodded, helpless to resist him now, even though I should have been pressing him for answers, should have been telling him that what he’d done wasn’t okay, that he couldn’t just take off like that and go out drinking, then come home and expect me to act like everything was okay.
His eyes locked on mine and he was still bathed in light from the window, still holding me tight to his body.
“Callum,” I murmured. “Oh, Callum.” I gripped his shoulders as he brushed his fingers softly through my hair.
“Shh,” he said. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“I just want everything to be normal.” I pulled back and looked at him. Something softened in his clear blue eyes as I felt his grip on my body loosen just a fraction. For one terrifying, amazing moment, I thought for sure he was going to tell me he was scared, that he couldn’t control himself, that the fact that he’d ended up drinking tonight made him nervous, too.
But a second later, any vulnerability I’d seen reflected in his expression was gone, replaced by his trademark cockiness. He tilted his head slightly to the right, bathing more of his face in the darkness, his eyes hooded and sexy.
“This is normal, baby.” He kissed me again, this time taking my lower lip between his teeth and nipping it softly as he broke away.
And then he gripped me tighter, his cock grinding
into my pussy through the thin material of my tiny pajama shorts, and then he threw me down on the bed, hard.
So hard that I bounced on the mattress. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my breasts jiggled.
Callum reached down and yanked at my pajama top roughly until my breasts popped out.
“Lean back on your elbows, Adriana, and push your tits out.”
I did as I was told.
He stood there in front of me, shirtless, his eyes drinking me in as I laid there with my back arched for him. He reached down and ran his hands over the marks on my naked breasts, the ones he’d left there earlier in his office when he’d whipped me with his belt.
His fingers blazed a searing trail over my skin.
“Does it hurt?” he whispered and I saw that same flash of vulnerability in his eyes.
“No.” I put my hand over his, watching as he traced the red lashes. “It feels good.”
This excited him, and his breathing deepened.
“It feels like you branded me,” I whispered. “It feels like you made me yours.”
“You are mine,” he growled, and now any sense of weakness or any chink I may have seen in his armor was completely gone. His walls were back up, his need to control me, to own me, to possess me roaring back full force.
He stood over me, looking down at my body like he was trying to decide what he was going to do with me. He reached down and grabbed the waistband of my shorts, slid them off me and tossed them onto the floor. My panties were next, and he slid them down my legs nice and slow until I was naked from the waist down and my tits were still popping out of the top of my shirt.
“Spread your legs. Show me that tight little pussy.”
I spread my legs and then he was taking his belt off, sliding it out from the loops of his jeans.
“Pull your knees up.” His voice was smooth and controlled as he took the leather strap of his belt and looped it around his hand, pulling it taught.