by Nicole Fox
I shake my head furiously.
“Little liar,” he says. “I just said I had a plan. I’m trying to help you, so why are you trying to run? I think we need to have a conversation about consequences. See, when someone doesn’t pay his debts, I give him a warning. I might break his fingers, or kick him in the ribs. Then, if he misses the next deadline, the consequences might be a little more extreme, a little more permanent in nature. Third time? He’s dead. I’m not a man who fucks around. So when I put you in these restraints, it was for both of our protection.”
I laugh at this. “Both our protection?” I repeat. “More like your sick pleasure.”
“No,” he says. “Here’s the thing. I thought this through already. I could send you back with your tail between your legs. You could be all, ‘Poor me, I don’t even know that guy and he punched you and abducted me and oh, please, help me.’ Right? And you’d be away from me, back in your job, but also under his thumb. In his bed. And judging by how I found you earlier, that’s not a place you want to be. See, I don’t think of you as a whore, but he does. He thinks of you as something to own, something to fuck, something to control.”
“Bullshit,” I say, baring my teeth. “That’s all any of you want. You want to own things. You want pets that you can fuck when you want and throw away when you’re done. You’re no different than him.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” he says. “And there’s still this matter of you trying to get away and the consequences of that choice.”
He leans in close, his lips on my ear. “Until your debt is paid, you’re mine. We’re gonna work together to extort the fuck out of that fucking boss of yours and then you’ll be free to go off and live your life however you want. Until then, you’re mine and you play by my rules. It’s just business.”
He flips me over then, pulling my underwear down over my hips and legs. My ass is bared to him and I feel a blush that starts between my legs and spreads up to my chest and face.
“Yeah, you’re real different from him. Fucking animal. Fucking asshole.” I keep insulting him, even as he slams his palm onto my ass hard. I let out a few more insults until he cracks me again, his slap sharp against my bare butt cheek. After the third stinging blow, he rubs the sensitive skin lightly, raising gooseflesh all over my body.
And … what? My pussy is quivering and wet. What a traitor!
He rubs just the tip of his forefinger between my legs and chuckles. “That’s what I thought. Big talk out of you.”
I spew more obscenities at him and the slaps come three in quick succession. It stings but … but I like it. Goddamn it. I like what he’s doing to me.
He rolls me onto my back again, smirking as he takes in the blush that creeps across my chest and cheeks. “Consequences,” he says, raising his brows.
***
Finn
I’ve never wanted to spank a woman’s ass so much in my life. And Selena gave me a reason by trying to get loose.
She’s not wrong. Men always want ownership, power, and control. I’m not different than Kovolov, other than the fact that I know she wants me, where she wanted nothing to do with him. She might be cussing a blue streak at me, but the wetness between her legs and the color all over her body tells a whole different story. She did not want him, period. She does not want to want me. There’s a difference.
Her whole body is flushed, a high pink spreading across her chest, those nipples hard as stone, nearly ready to push through her flimsy bra.
It’s that swollen flesh between her legs I’m most interested in, though. I push her legs apart to find her pussy lips slick and wet and engorged. Her musk is sweet and thick as I put my face there, breathing it in.
“Fucking perfect,” I say as I bury my face between those thighs, my tongue exploring, dipping, receding, teasing.
I put my hands on her inner thighs to push them as far apart as I can. She pumps that pussy right into my face, all insults forgotten as I eat her like dessert. I add my fingers to the mix, her clit so swollen as I work her toward orgasm.
I shove my tongue deep inside of her, adding my fingers, pumping in and out as she moves her hips with each thrust. I feel her quicken, her moans driving me insane. But I don’t want her to come yet. Not yet. She’s right about one thing. I am in control. And she needs to learn to listen or suffer the consequences.
So I pull out, move away, leaving her teetering on the edge, not quite able to fall over the cliff. Her eyes snap open and she whines.
“Selena,” I say. “You want me to make you come?”
She moans an affirmative sound, pushing her hips up, spreading her legs.
“Say please,” I say.
“No,” she says, shaking her head furiously. “No, no, no, no, no …”
“Selena,” I say again firmly. “I am in control here. I am going to help you but you have to trust me. You have to listen to me. You have to do what I tell you to do. Those are the rules. If you follow them, then you’ll walk away from all of this. If you don’t, then there will be consequences. So, say please. If you say please, then I’ll let you come. If you don’t, then you’ll lie here in pain, wishing you’d just done what I said.”
“Fuck you,” she snarls.
I put a finger on her clit and she nearly flies off the bed, a moan of desire escaping her perfect lips.
“Say. Please.”
“Please,” she whispers.
“Louder,” I say, moving closer, my breath hot on her pussy.
“Please, Finn,” she says. “Please. I’ll listen. I will. Please.”
“That’s a good girl,” I say, my tongue and fingers back to work, feeling her clench and clench until she finally loses her breath, her hips flexed off the bed, her juices flowing as she finally goes over the edge.
Once she’s finally still, her eyes heavy-lidded, I cut the zip ties from her wrists and her arms fall limply to the bed. She turns to her side and I lie on my back next to her.
“That was …” she says softly.
“You’re welcome?”
“Rude. Manipulative,” she says.
“You liked it. If I had to guess, I’d say you needed it.”
“It’s been a while,” she admits. “My husband wasn’t really, he didn’t … he was more self-focused usually, you know?”
“Big shocker,” I say.
“Look, I …” she starts. “Sergei is dangerous. I’m afraid of him. I’ve seen him rage over the smallest things, screaming at people on the phone, making threats. He’s got family all over the world. He kills people. I didn’t … I was new and I needed the job, but I … I saw things. Heard things.”
“And he was ready to hurt you,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “He doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“I get that, but neither do I. And we can make this work. I need details about the business, beyond the stuff that’s above-board. I need to know about murders and money-laundering. I need you to go back to work, beg his forgiveness. Tell him you don’t know me; that I came after you because your piece-of-shit husband left you with a shit-ton of debt. He’ll take you back, I know it, but he’ll make you work for his trust.”
“I don’t think I can,” she says. “It’s too dangerous. He’ll know. I’m not a good liar.”
“You want to be free of all of this?” I ask.
“I do, but …”
“But nothing,” I say. “You’ll go to work. You’ll tell him you got away from me, that you’re scared. That way, any time you seem scared or off, he’ll think it’s because of me.”
“There’s something else,” she says. “I think I’m pregnant.”
Time stops. I literally have no idea what to say to this. “You’re … with Kovolov’s …”
“No,” she says. “No. It’s Matt’s. I haven’t slept with … my boss.”
“Oh,” I say, trying to process what she’s telling me. “Oh. So, how far along …”
“He left a month ago. We last had sex maybe two or th
ree weeks before that. I guess maybe six or seven weeks?”
This changes things a bit. Putting a pregnant woman into a very dangerous situation … it’s bad. Even for me.
Chapter Six
Selena
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod. “I took a test a couple of days ago. And I’ve been tired, nauseous.”
I feel the threat of tears for, like, the hundredth time in this endless night. I haven’t really thought about it yet, about the baby. I was so shocked, so not ready, and I was just trying to get situated in my new job. I just couldn’t quite … wrap my mind around it. I’m not sure I would have been happy even if Matt had still been around. We weren’t exactly happy together. Anymore.
I’m not sure if we ever really were.
I watch Finn’s face as he thinks about what I’ve just told him. I’m positive he’s about to tell me to piss off, to get the hell out of his apartment. I’m not sure what to do—this whole situation is so fucked up. What would my mother say now? I’ve just come on the face of my kidnapper while pregnant with my husband’s baby. I’m about to go into the den of a lion, my boss, who will probably expect … sexual favors. This is insanity.
I should run. I should …
“Hey,” Finn says. “It’s a complication but … we’ll make it work. Now, let’s go through the plan. You’re going to go to work tomorrow like usual. We’ll sneak into your apartment early in the morning, get you showered and changed. You’ll tell Sergei I kidnapped you, raped you. That you ran out in the middle of the night and hitched a ride home. You’ll beg his forgiveness; beg him to help you. Tell him you just want to go back to normal; you’ll do whatever he wants.”
He makes me go over the plan several more times until my eyelids are so heavy, my head is aching, and I simply can’t hear him anymore. Finally, he lets me drift off.
When I wake up, I’m still in a torn dress, bra, and totally naked from the waist down. Finn, however, is freshly showered and dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and his work boots.
“Time to get up, princess,” he says. “It’s four-thirty. I think whoever is on guard duty will have nodded off, but not for much longer.”
I get up, my wrists sore from being bound the night before. Finn tosses me a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants and ushers me out the door as soon as I’m dressed. We get into a different car than the one we came in, Finn telling me it’s safer. I agree.
Traffic is light this early in the morning, so we make it in under a half hour, Finn driving around the block, spotting the watcher asleep in his vehicle as predicted. We park around the block and go in through the back door.
“Take a shower,” Finn orders.
“Bossy,” I mutter, heading into the bathroom.
It will feel good to get clean. Just as I go to shut the door, his big body blocks me and he steps inside.
“I assure you I don’t need a chaperone in order to take a shower,” I say.
“I’m sure you don’t, but I’ll stay just the same,” he says. “Hurry up.”
I let out an annoyed sigh, but turn on the shower without any more argument. I know little about Finn, but I’ve figured out that he’s about as hardheaded as they come.
I pull off the hoodie and sweatpants and toss them at him. Undoing my bra and stepping into the warm spray, I think I let out a moan of pleasure. The water feels so good, so soothing, on my knotted muscles. Finn watches me through the glass door.
Fine. He wants to be a big perv? Then I’ll give him a show. Maybe playing around will help calm my nerves.
I stand in the spray, tilting my head back under the water, running my hands through my long locks, my breasts jutting out as my back arches. I know my body looks good. I’m not showing any baby bump yet, not even close, and my workout regimen is the only thing that keeps me sane.
I soap my hair first, making sure to take a long time, knowing that the sight of suds running down the length of my body is turning Finn on. His cock strains under his jeans, even though he leans nonchalantly against the bathroom wall, trying to look unaffected.
I take the bar soap and run it under the water, lathering it along my breasts, playing with my nipples until they’re hard nubs. I feel the heat of Finn’s stare and it goes straight to my core. Why does he make me feel this way? I should be afraid of him. He’s easily as dangerous as Sergei. Maybe more so, honestly. With Sergei, I know to be on my guard. I know he’s a snake, that he’ll hurt anyone to get what he wants, that his business, his family business, comes first. His own desires come first. He’ll burn everything else to the ground.
With Finn, though … I don’t know. He’s beautiful. There’s attraction between us, in spite of the circumstances. And I’m not stupid enough to think that it’s anything more than sexual, I want to trust him. I want to trust that he’s going to help me through this, that he’ll get me out safely, get his money, and let me go live my life.
It’s probably really stupid, but I want to believe that this will work. If I let myself think otherwise, it will eat me up.
So I play along, reaching between my legs, rubbing at the ache building there. I close my eyes as I work my fingers along my throbbing clit, my mind on Finn, on his talented tongue, on his massive cock. I open my eyes, ready to invite him in the shower to finish me off, but he’s gone. The door to the bathroom is open, and Finn is nowhere to be seen.
I feel a little rejected, honestly. I thought for sure that the whole display would end up differently, not with him leaving right before I was ready to climax. Go figure though, just another little measure of control through indifference. Whatever.
I turn around to face the spray, finishing my shower quickly, stepping out, drying off. When I wander into the bedroom, I find him sitting in my reading chair. There’s a work outfit laid out on the bed for me.
“What if I don’t want to wear that?” I ask, nodding to the slim skirt and blouse he’s chosen.
“Just put it on. Get dressed. Do your makeup and hair like normal. Pretend I’m not here. If anyone’s watching, they’ll just see you moving around, getting ready for your day.”
“You know,” I say tersely, “You’re a real piece of work. You eat me out last night, make me come like a champ. Today you force your way into the bathroom with me, let me do a show for you, and then disappear. What the fuck?”
“Maybe it wasn’t a very good show,” he says.
“You fucking asshole,” I say, inflamed, stalking over to him. I slap him across the face and he doesn’t even flinch, so I raise a hand to do it again. This time, he grabs my wrist mid-air.
“I am an asshole,” he agrees. “It’s best you don’t get too comfortable, too familiar.”
“Fuck you,” I say. “What game are you playing?”
“You know the answer to that question, Selena,” he says.
“Why do that last night?” I ask.
“Because I wanted to,” he says with a shrug. “Because you needed it. Because I needed it.”
“But now you don’t?” I ask. “I put on a show for you in there and you walked out.”
“Don’t get your feelings hurt,” he says. “We don’t have time for what I want to do to you. It’s not personal.”
I wrench my hand away and head over to the bed, pulling on the bra and underwear he’s chosen for me. These are sexier than I’ve been wearing of late, a black lace thong and matching push-up bra. My breasts spill over, bigger now that I’m pregnant. I look at myself in the mirror with a frown.
“Looks good,” Finn says. “Sexy.”
“Looks like it doesn’t fit,” I say. “I’m surely going to be a hippo. I’ll be one of those very fat pregnant woman, I know it.”
“You’ll be fine,” he says.
I head back into the bathroom to dry and style my hair. It takes a long time because there’s a lot of it, and I don’t really feel like taking the time. I wonder, for a moment, if my scared act will come off better if I pull it into a bun or ponytail. If I’m too mad
e up, look too much like my normal self, will he think that’s weird? Or will it be better if I go in looking good?
I decide that I should look as normal as possible. He wants me, and it’s likely he won’t be as interested if I don’t look like someone he wants to fuck. The snake. I can hardly wipe the snarl off my face as I finish my hair and makeup, it pisses me off so much.
Once all that is done, I put on the outfit Finn has chosen. It looks good; he’s got decent taste. I pull on my shoes and head to the kitchen to grab a breakfast bar and a glass of milk.
“Milk?” he asks.
“Weird craving lately,” I say with a shrug. “Normally I’d drink coffee but …”