“Another time,” he murmured and spread my legs, settling heavily between them.
At first, I didn’t even try to resist. Everything that was happening had taken on the aura of a dream…or a nightmare. I felt as though I was standing apart, watching what was being done to my body with no more than detached interest. Until suddenly I wasn’t.
As the head of his cock began to push into me, I stiffened. He was too big, too hard. I didn’t want this!
“No! Don’t, please!” I hated myself for begging but I was too terrified to remain silent. Burning heat filled me. I tried to twist under him but his weight bore down on me, holding me in place.
He grasped my hair in one hand, twisting it around his fist and slid the other between my folds. A pulse sprang to life in the taut line of his jaw, beating fiercely. His eyes, staring down at me, looked glazed with pleasure and utter, remorseless intent.
Teasing my clit, he pushed further into me inch by inch. “Damn, you’re so fucking tight.”
The pain worsened but even more shocking was the sense of being invaded. For the first time, I really understood why intercourse was referred to sometimes as “possession”. I’d laughed with girl friends about that when the bolder and more experienced among them pointed out that it was really the woman who took possession of a man’s most sensitive and valued part. But they’d failed to understand that sex, under certain circumstances, could be an act of conquest.
Penetrated, the separateness of my body breached, I felt an overwhelming sense of subjugation that terrified me. Instinctively, I turned my head and sank my teeth into Adam’s wrist, tasting blood. He cursed and twisted my hair further, making my scalp sting and leaving me with no choice but to let go.
“Savage!” He sounded more satisfied than displeased. He definitely wasn’t deterred. On the contrary, holding my gaze, he pushed further into me.
Only to stop suddenly as a bolt of shock clenched his body. “What the hell?” His eyes cleared suddenly as he stared down at me. “You’re a virgin?”
He sounded incredulous and I couldn’t blame him. Not that there weren’t other twenty-one-year-old virgins; of course there were. I might even know some of them. Somewhere between a taboo topic and an embarrassing secret, it was rarely discussed, at least in the circles that I moved in.
I hadn’t been “saving” myself, not at all. It was just that the men I had met were either in awe of my family and treated me was though I were made of spun glass, or boorishly inclined to go in the other direction and try to show that my family meant nothing to them. In either case, it wasn’t me they saw, only my name and the wealth and power that went with it.
Will was an exception but I’d decided early on never to become involved with a man who owed his future to the favor of the Delaneys. What I’d learned a few months ago had only strengthened that decision.
But if Grandmother was to be believed, Adam Falzon stood far above anything my family had dared aspire to. I wanted to think of him as a primitive throwback to a more brutal age. But he was vastly more, a true man of his times who didn’t hesitate to make use of the power that his heritage and his natural inclinations gave him. Power over me at that moment no matter how I wanted to deny it.
“Let me go,” I whispered. My eyes met his, pleading.
For just an instant, I thought there was a chance he would relent. But then his full, sensual mouth hardened and the light in his eyes turned dark and molten.
“Never,” he groaned and with a savage thrust of his hips, drove all the way into me.
I screamed. The rush of blood in my ears couldn’t drown out my sobbing gasps. My body felt invaded, torn apart.
Only the gruff, low murmur of his voice drew me back from the edge of black panic. With unexpected tenderness, he said, “Easy, Grace, it will get better. Stop fighting. Accept this.”
Everything in me rebelled. I’d die before I gave him what he wanted. But death was no longer a theoretical notion viewed from the safety of youth and privilege. I’d felt its clammy grasp too short a time before. The harsh truth was that I wanted to live, no matter what that took.
A bead of his sweat falling from his brow struck my lips. My tongue darted out, capturing it. The explosion of salt and other, subtler flavors riveted me.
I stared up at Adam, realizing for the first time that he was exerting tremendous effort to hold himself still. He looked in pain. Was it possible that he truly didn’t want to hurt me, at least not more than could be avoided?
I didn’t want to think anything good of him but as the moments passed and he still didn’t move, my body slowly adjusted to his possession. Distantly, I realized that the orgasms he had forced on me had readied me for him. Not entirely but enough so that when he did move at last, slowly and carefully, a curl of pleasure unfolded deep inside me.
Instinctively, I fought to deny it but it blossomed too swiftly, radiating out from my core to encompass my entire being. Pain and pleasure mingled, one becoming indistinguishable from the other. Lost in a maelstrom of sensation, I could only cling to him as he drove into me again and again. The heavy sack of his testicles slammed against my buttocks. His breath rasped harshly in my ear.
“So fucking hot,” he muttered.
Time slowed down, the moments blending together into a single, sustained experience of sensation. My entire body tightened remorselessly. I clung to him, no longer fighting. He would have his way, have me. There was nothing I could to do stop it.
With that admission, white hot ecstasy ignited deep inside me. Caught within the shimmering waves of pleasure too great to be endured, I cried out in abject defeat.
“Adam!”
Chapter Eleven
When I was next aware of anything, I was wrapped in a blanket and being carried up the slope of the beach. Ahead, in the moonlight, I could make out a vehicle, a Jeep or something like it, on the road that ran beside the shore. Other similar vehicles were stopped nearby. Men stood around them but none approached us.
I didn’t need to look at Adam to know that he was carrying me. Somewhere in the depths of my soul I understood that he wouldn’t have allowed anyone else to do so. But nothing else about what was happening made any sense.
The memory of being in the water and almost drowning was sharp and clear. Everything after that…less so. I had a lingering sense of something cataclysmic happening on the beach that he had been at the center of but before I could pursue it, I slid away into darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Light. Bright, hurting my eyes. I peered out from beneath my lids just enough to see a vast marble entry hall with a staircase curving upward out of sight. With a shock, I realized that we had to be inside the house that I had fled from which could only mean…
The cell! I couldn’t bear to go back in there. Back into the dark and cold with only hunger, thirst, and my memories for company. Desperately, I tried to wiggle free but my body refused to move. All my strength and will were gone. I could only lie helpless in Adam’s arms.
Off to the side, a man spoke. His voice was deep and slightly accented. He sounded concerned.
“Sir? Your guests…”
Adam’s reply was curt, leaving no room for argument. “Tell them I’ll see them in the morning.”
The man murmured a response but Adam ignored it. Something of my distress must have reached him. As he turned away, he bent his head and murmured, “Easy, everything will be all right.”
A hollow laugh died in my chest. How could that possibly be true? Nothing was ever going to be all right again. No matter what happened next, I would always have to live with the memory of what I had experienced at his hands. Assuming that I survived at all.
I had never been given to self-pity and but I couldn’t deny the tears that spilled down my cheeks. All I could do was turn my head into Adam’s chest as my whole body shook with the force of my despair.
His arms tightened around me. Moving swiftly, he walked around the staircase. Terror clenched my throat tigh
t. Even so, I managed to murmur, “Please, don’t!”
He stopped for a moment. I could feel him looking down at me. As though the words were wrenched from him, he said, “You need to let me take care of you.”
In the cell? That made no sense. He had destroyed me on the beach. Every part of my body hurt and I was certain that I bore the stains of our passion and my former virginity. Even if he allowed me another shower, I wouldn’t be able to stand in it long enough to get clean. And the thought of having to lie on the thin mattress on the concrete ledge--
Oh, god, he wouldn’t fuck me again there, would he?
My tears came in earnest. I couldn’t hold them back any longer. Did he truly possess no shred of mercy at all?
Adam cursed again under his breath. Holding me hard against his body, he reached out and pushed something. A moment later, I heard metal doors sliding open smoothly.
He took a few steps, turned again, and pressed something else. Suddenly, we were rising.
Relieved beyond bearing that we were going up rather than down, I opened my eyes just enough to get a glimpse of where we were. An elevator, an old one by the look of it, little more than a cage with metal lattice-work walls that revealed the stone shaft beyond. There were designs in the metal. At a glance, I saw a peacock, its feathers unfurled, and a stag darting through bushes.
We rose swiftly. However old the elevator was it had been kept in excellent repair. When we didn’t stop, I wondered how many stories the house had. I’d only caught a glimpse of the interior but what I’d seen wouldn’t have been out of place in a mansion or…
An image unfolded in my mind--a castle with towers rising high above strong walls. I almost laughed at the thought and yet I couldn’t dismiss it entirely.
Finally, the elevator glided to a halt and the doors slid open. Adam carried me out directly into a large circular room with high windows that provided a panoramic view of the night sky. The impression of being in a tower grew stronger.
“Where are we?” My voice was hoarse and faint.
“Your new quarters.” He didn’t stop but kept moving through a wide arch and into another, smaller room.
He laid me down gently on a long, padded bench. A moment later, I heard the rush of water pouring out of taps.
Weakly, I lifted my head. A feeling of dazed unreality swept over me. We were in a palatial bathroom with a pale white-and-pink marble floor and walls, and a domed ceiling filled with a fresco of …cherubs? I blinked but they were still there, grinning down at me. Warm, golden light flowed from fixtures set into the walls. I glimpsed double sinks with what looked like solid gold taps. Grandmother had those but she was the only Delaney who did. No one else dared to match her extravagance.
Any thought of her, or of my family in general, normally made me tense but as it was, I barely reacted. I was far too occupied trying to take in the sudden change in my circumstances.
The aroma of jasmine distracted me. Adam stood beside a large claw-footed tub, pouring scented oil into the steaming water. The sight was so incongruous that I couldn’t help but laugh. Or try to at least. The sound came out as more of a strangled giggle.
Even so, he heard it. Setting the crystal bottle of oil back on a nearby shelf, he returned to where I laid and helped me up. My legs were so shaky that I had to cling to him. The blanket fell away. Under it I was naked.
I stared down at my body. Even in the golden light, I looked far too pale. Against the whiteness of my skin, dark bruises were forming. Some, the worst, must have been from the battering I’d taken in the water. But I knew that others were from what had happened on the beach, fingertip-sized marks on my breasts and hips where Adam had handled me roughly. Between my thighs, I glimpsed pale pink stains and flushed when I realized that they were a mixture of my blood and his seed.
Instinctively, I glanced up at him. His face was bleak, his eyes dark and fathomless. Gruffly, he said, “Let’s get you clean.”
He carried me to the tub and lowered me carefully into the water. I gasped at the sudden heat but quickly my muscles began to relax. Even so, the tub was so large and I was so weak that I had to wonder how I’d avoid going under.
I needn’t have worried. Standing beside the tub, Adam quickly stripped off his clothes. His shirt went first, tossed on the floor and kicked aside. His pants followed along with his briefs.
Naked, he stood before me--tall, broad-shouldered, his ripped torso giving way to narrow hips and powerful thighs between which…
My chest tightened painfully. After what had happened on the beach, how could he be aroused again so soon?
And what did he intend to do about it?
Despite the soothing water, I felt the soreness deep inside me. Hastily, I looked away. If I’d had more strength, I would have been tempted to try to run--again. But I could hardly keep myself upright in the water.
A little of it sloshed over the rim of the tub as Adam got in behind me. He lowered himself until I was cradled against his chest, my legs caught between his. I could feel his erection against my buttocks. The temperature of the water didn’t appear to be diminishing it at all.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured against my cheek.
I obeyed simply because I was too dazed and exhausted to do anything else. The sensual luxury of the bath might not affect him but it was definitely getting to me. If he hadn’t been holding me, I really would have sunk beneath the water.
The thought of doing so terrified me but even that fear felt far away. I was floating in the water, in his arms, untethered from any other reality. After so much pain, fear and terrible, dark ecstasy, the sensation was overwhelming.
I was only dimly aware when he began to wash my hair, using a shower attachment beside the tub. When every particle of sand was rinsed from the strands, he began massaging a jasmine-scented shampoo into my scalp. My neck arched and I groaned. At once, he stopped. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, it feels…good.” Better than that, it felt so normal, the kind of thing a man would do for a woman he truly cared about. And she would let him, take pleasure in it, in him.
But nothing was normal between Adam and me. I would have been the world’s worst fool to let myself think that for even a moment.
All the same, I didn’t want him to stop. Not then and not when, having finished with my hair, he poured body wash into his hands and began to gently but thoroughly clean my body. His big, callused palms passed over my arms and underarms before cupping my breasts with aching tenderness, his thumbs rubbing lightly over my distended nipples.
I groaned again and leaned further back into his embrace.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. His touch slipped over my belly and between my legs. With exacting care, he soaped away the traces of his possession.
“So strong…yet so vulnerable. That’s the ultimate mystery of women, Grace. Or of some women, at least. Like you.”
I gasped when he lightly stroked my still swollen clit.
“I’m not strong.” The words were wrung from me. I hated admitting any such thing but I was powerless to deny the truth.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “I chose you because I saw the strength in you. Although, I admit you’ve surprised me in many ways.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant but the soothing stroke of his hands moving over me so intimately robbed me of breath. My eyes shut as a deep sigh escaped me.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Adam murmured. “Not yet.”
I nodded, struggling to comply. He finished washing me and did the same for himself before lifting me from the tub.
Wrapped in an oversized terrycloth bath sheet, I sat docilely as he brushed and dried my hair. From time to time, I dared a glance in the mirror. He stood behind me, a powerfully masculine presence wearing only a towel tied low around his lean hips.
I stared at his sculpted chest, following with my eyes the line of dark hair that vanished beneath the edge of the fabric. What would it be like to touch him freely, lick my way down
the length of his torso and beyond--
A jolt of shock went through me. How could I possibly desire him? He hurt me. In so many ways. The fact that he had also forced me to experience pleasure beyond any I had ever imagined didn’t change that. I wanted nothing to do with him and yet--
“No!”
I didn’t even realize that I’d spoken out loud until I saw Adam’s reaction. He froze in the instant before his hand settled on the back of my neck. The gesture could have been taken as another effort to soothe me but I knew all too well the inherent need to exert control that it really represented.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I stared at him in the mirror, sure that I must have misheard. He couldn’t really have asked me that, could he? The look on his face--concerned, expectant--confirmed that he had.
My lips twisted in the mockery of a smile. “Maybe being drugged, kidnapped, locked naked in a cell, hunted down, almost drowned, and finally raped? There may be people who would consider that a fun weekend but I’m not one of them.”
He flushed. His hand on my neck tightened. Too late, I realized how foolish it was to taunt him when I was so vulnerable.
And so exhausted. The verbal challenge I had hurled at him had taken the last of my strength. I had nothing left to fight him with. My shoulders slumped. All I wanted to do was crawl into a bed and go to sleep.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to crawl. After several long moments during which I waited to discover how he would react, Adam lifted me once again in his arms and carried me into the main room.
At its center stood an immense four poster bed made of carved wood, teak I thought, and hung with diaphanous red curtains that billowed softly in the breeze from the high windows. Intricate Oriental carpets were scattered over the dark slate floor.
Other pieces of furniture--a dressing table, a desk, and more, were arranged to take advantage of what had to be spectacular views. Each looked like a rare antique. Between the high windows, the walls were stone but of a kind I had never seen before; they sparkled in the moonlight. The overall effect was at once beautiful and otherworldly.
Chosen: Part Two (Allure) Page 7