“Yes, Natalie, come for me. Give me what you refused to give me. Give me all of you,” I murmur against her clit as it pulses with need.
Her fingers curl around the fabric of her dress, almost ripping it off her tits as she struggles with herself, with the idea of letting go in front of me; the man who took away her everything.
I broke her down, and now I’m building her up again—kiss by kiss, fuck by fuck—until her heart and mind belong to me.
And when she’s nearly there, I shove in two fingers, thrusting as wildly as my tongue is circling her clit. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and her muscles contract around my finger, a gush of delicious wetness spilling out of her.
I have to admit … that made my dick hard.
When she’s stopped panting, she immediately slides away from me, farther across the table. Her sinful eyes home in on mine and narrow as though she’s suddenly become aware of the fact that it was my tongue that made her come.
I chose to give her that gratification.
It wasn’t hers to take but mine to give, and I did so with pleasure.
But it comes at a cost.
Shame.
I can see it in her eyes. The hatred spilling from them is stronger than anything I’ve ever seen before. And it makes me smile like the motherfucker I am.
She will do. She will do just fine.
I straighten up to stand in front of her, still gripping her thighs. I’m not done yet, but I can tell she’s not amused by any of this, judging from her thin lips and a look that’s meant to kill.
“That was—”
“Amazing?” I fill in.
“Bad,” she says, trying to pat down her dress as if that’ll cover up her disgust.
“Bad, but in a good way,” I muse as she sits up on her elbows.
“Bad because you’re bad. And none of this means anything,” she says.
“But you did like it,” I muse, raising a brow.
She doesn’t say a word, but the blush is all I need to confirm my suspicions.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it,” I say.
“I won’t,” she growls.
“Good.” I smile. I’m not here to argue. “I just want you to know being with me is not the end of the world.”
“I am not with you.” She tries to push herself off the table, but I won’t let her. “I may be forced to be here, but I’m not a willing participant.”
“Yes, you are,” I reply. “You chose me. You want me. You coming all over my tongue just now proves that.”
Her nostrils flare while her cheeks continue to turn redder by the second.
“That … was nothing. It meant nothing. It did nothing.”
Of course she’d say that. Admitting the opposite would shatter what’s left of her soul … That she’s become a willing victim. But eventually, she will have to come to terms with her attraction to me. She can’t resist the pull, and neither can I. We’re bound to one another now.
“Sweet, sweet, Natalie … your nothing means the world to me,” I say, caressing her cheek. “You’re to be my wife,” I say, grabbing her hand to press a kiss on top. “I want you to be happy.”
“Then let. Me. Leave,” she hisses.
“You know I can’t do that,” I say, shaking my head.
“Then you’re nothing but evil,” she says, and she flicks my hand away.
“I only do what’s necessary. What’s required of me,” I reply.
“By whom? Who would ask you to do this? To take a woman and chain her down?”
I let out a sigh. Of course she’d ask this. It’s no surprise, yet it’s a tough question regardless of the situation. “If I could tell you, I would, but that would ruin everything.”
She sighs out loud now. “I knew it.” She folds her arms. “You want me to do whatever you want, but you give me nothing in exchange. No information, nothing I can use.”
“I will in due time,” I say, leaning in to look into her eyes. When she won’t meet my gaze, I grab her chin and force her. “This is bigger than both of us. Trust me on this. Please.”
Her lips part, the look on her face growing ever more confused.
“How can I trust the man who destroyed me? Who brought me here in the first place?” she mutters, tears staining her eyes.
I hate it. I hate the tears, hate the pain. I wish I could tear it out of her, wish I could reduce it to ashes and never let her feel that way ever again. I never thought I could feel this much emotion when it came to a woman, but she manages to pull something out of me I didn’t even know existed.
A single tear rolls down her cheeks, and I wipe it away with my thumb. I don’t want her to cry even though I know I’m the cause.
“You shouldn’t,” I reply. “But you must.”
Her face turns dark, and I feel as though she’s close to slapping me until I see stars.
Suddenly, the door behind us slides open.
She scrambles off the table, patting down her dress and hair, composing herself as if she got caught in a sinful act, and I glance over my shoulder to see who it is.
Patrick.
And he brought the president.
Of course he did.
A sly smile adorns his face, and I almost contemplate grabbing this knife lying on the table in front of me and stabbing him with it.
But that would defeat everything I’ve worked so hard for, so I let it go instead and sigh.
“Patrick.”
“Noah,” he replies. “The president would like to have a word.”
Natalie
My eyes are turned down at the floor. I don’t know why, but I’m terrified to look the man in the eyes. The president’s mere presence makes me cower.
The doors slide open and close again. Patrick’s gone again. Did he just bring back the president to frame Noah? To expose me and get us punished? It’s the only answer.
Noah hasn’t turned around to face him yet. He’s still looking at me from the corner of his eyes while I’m frozen to the ground.
“We’ll finish this later,” he murmurs to me, and I nod.
“Care to introduce me?” the president grumbles. The man seems far older up close, but I haven’t gotten a good look yet, only brief flashes when I manage to glance at him.
Noah takes a last bite of an apple lying on the table before spinning around. “Natalie, President Lawrence,” he says, pointing at both of us.
I bow like I’m supposed to … how I was trained to respond in front of superior men. But on the inside, I’m screaming.
“Up,” the president barks, and I immediately stand like a rigid rock. For the first time, I’m looking straight at the man who runs this whole show, and he’s looking back at me. He brushes his fingers through the gray streaks of hair that are neatly brushed, his stern eyes still fear-inducing as he postures in front of me. This is a man whose age doesn’t matter. A man who will still terrify the hearts of many even on his deathbed. The kind of man who could rule a country … or become a violent dictator.
He narrows his eyes at me, and for a second there, I almost feel as though I should hide behind Noah for protection. But then he focuses his attention on Noah.
“So this is it? This is what you choose to do with your time?” he asks.
Noah nods with certainty. He won’t back down, even when caught in the act, even when this man judges us with a single stare and Noah will probably end up in hot water. “She’s … special to me.”
President Lawrence rubs his lips together as his eyes twitch while they scour over the food-splattered table … and my food-splattered dress and hair. He takes in a breath and clears his throat.
“You and I have to talk,” he says to Noah.
Noah’s face tightens, and he replies, “Yes.”
He ogles me from the corner of his eye. “Go to your room and wait there until you’re called.”
I throw him a look—one that means a million times “I hate you”—but it doesn’t seem to affect
him at all. Begrudgingly, I walk past the president, who briefly glances at me before I open the doors and close them behind me.
My lungs fill with air, and I suck it all up as though I haven’t taken a breath in years.
I can’t believe that just happened.
That I laid there on that table and let Noah lick me until I came.
That the president caught us as I lay there still enjoying the delicious waves of orgasmic pleasure.
That I wish Noah could’ve continued.
I’m sick.
I’m so sick in the head. What’s happening to me? I stumble up the stairs and try to come to terms with what just happened, but my mind keeps spinning in circles. Should I go upstairs? Go back inside? Scream and shout? Throw a fit? Rip off this dress and throw it in his face?
I’m so angry with him, but more importantly, I’m angry with myself.
I shouldn’t have let him touch me, shouldn’t have let myself go at that moment, shouldn’t have … all the things, but it felt so fucking good. He knows how to wrap me around his finger, and I hate it. I hate it so much that I want to scream and throw everything around.
But that won’t do me any good. At best, it’ll get me some time to speak my mind. At worst … well, that hut where they kept me is the last place on earth I want to end up again, but I know Noah would do it. He’d put me there just to make a point.
I am his, and there’s no way to fight it.
That man. This house.
It’s going to be my undoing.
Chapter 21
Noah
Natalie’s gone, but this room still smells like her.
The table still carries the mark of her sweet wetness.
And nothing’s more appetizing right now than the food she lay in. I want to eat it all and then finish the job with her upstairs.
But this man in front of me won’t let me, and I know why.
Fucking Patrick betrayed me by getting President Lawrence. I’m sure he told him we were in here—that she was in here, eating with me. It’s against the rules … the rules he created.
His nostrils flare. I wonder if he can smell her too.
That scent is the scent of victory.
I just hope he won’t realize.
Natalie thought I was the worst man she could ever meet. Wrong.
There’s nothing this guy won’t do to get his way. But he’s met his match in me.
“Noah,” he says. “Sit.” He points at a chair that’s standing near the wreckage we left after I sucked her pussy dry.
I sit down without a hint of shame. I know what I did, and I don’t regret a single minute of it.
We stare at each other for a moment before he finally opens his mouth. “Who is she?”
“I took her from one of our conversion sessions,” I explain. “She was rather … reluctant.”
“So she wasn’t an applicant,” he says. “Just a random … whore.”
“Yes,” I answer even though I want to wrap my hands around his neck for suggesting she’s ever been in someone else’s clutches, that she would ever open her legs for anyone but me. “But you have no problems with that, do you?” I fold my arms. “After all, your wife—”
“Silence,” he growls.
Of course he doesn’t like me speaking about Marsha, but he can’t deny the truth. She didn’t come from here, didn’t grow up to be a wife, and instead was destined to remain a crack addict at a strip club. But no one ever speaks of their history after they enter the community. After all, we’re all part of the Family.
“What did you intend to do? Hide her from me forever?” President Lawrence asks, pacing around the room.
“No, I was going to introduce you sooner rather than later. I just didn’t expect Patrick to beat me to it.”
“Don’t drag him into this,” he says, glaring at me. “You know he did what was required of him when you defiled our temple.”
“Right …” I rub my lips together.
He stops in his tracks. “Rules are rules, Noah,” he says. “And for a good reason too.”
“I know, I know,” I say, holding up my hands. I don’t want to fight with him. Not now, anyway.
“Don’t be so arrogant. Do you know what’s at stake here? What happens if you refuse to follow the rules?”
I know what’s at stake here. My head. He’s had people murdered for much less.
He approaches me and leans over to look directly into my eyes. “Your status as patriarch won’t protect you if you keep breaking the rules.”
“I understand,” I say, nodding. After a short pause, I add, “I apologize. I was a little—”
“Horny?” he interrupts. His nostrils flare. “You had no self-control. And at my table, nonetheless. Spoiling our food with that filth.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t,” he says, turning his back to me again. “She will not be in this room again. As a matter of fact, give me one good reason I shouldn’t banish her from this community.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “Or have her head.”
I swallow. “Because she’s going to be my wife.”
“Says who?” he growls.
“I …” I clear my throat. “I would be honored if you would give me your blessings, President.”
I hate sucking up to him like this—hate it with all my guts—but I know it’s necessary to extinguish this fire I’ve started.
“Hmm … Has her body seduced you so badly?” He raises his brow. “Maybe I should try her out for myself and see what all the fuss is about.”
My eyes widen. I feel sick at the mere thought. “Ah, no. She … uh …”
He raises both his brows now.
Shit.
I can see it in his eyes, that same hunger I see when I look in the mirror. The need for power.
It makes men do horrible things; things normal men could only dream of.
But I’m not normal, and neither is he.
“She is already bound to me,” I say, hoping it’ll stop him.
She’s already mine, and our rules forbid the patriarchs from claiming any other woman who already belongs to a patriarch after being bound … through sex.
“Really?” he replies, snorting. “After all this time, now you choose to fuck a woman?”
I nod. “I’ve waited long enough. It was time. My father agrees.”
He narrows his eyes. “Of course your father agrees.” His tongue darts out to lick his teeth. “But your father isn’t the president. You want me to honor her as your wife? Prove to me that you choose her. Prove to all of us that you choose her over—”
“I do,” I interject, getting up from my seat. “I will.”
A vicious smirk appears on his face. “I’ll call together the patriarchs. The Patriarchal Ceremony will be tonight.”
He turns around and walks off again, but then stops as he clutches the doorway. “You know I will never stop … no matter the cost.”
I swallow. “I know.”
His fingers dig briefly into the wood, and I can almost feel them scratch at my throat.
When he’s gone, I breathe out a sigh, but it’s not one of relief.
I know he’ll keep searching. I’d have to rip his heart out of his chest for him to finally stop. But I know something he doesn’t, and I will stop at nothing to keep him from finding out that I’ve already found exactly who he’s looking for …
Natalie.
Natalie
Even though I know I’m supposed to go back to my room, I wander around aimlessly through the house they call the temple, checking out each room as I pass it. There’s a room filled with cozy seats, a giant marbled kitchen, an actual library, and then there’s the room with the giant cross in the back. I go inside and look at all the stained glass windows and the hand-carved wooden seats standing in front of what looks like an altar. Is this where they do all their prayers?
“Like our chapel?”
In shock, I turn around and come face to fac
e with Patrick casually leaning against the doorjamb.
“I, uh … I didn’t mean to—”
“Sure, you did. You’re curious,” he says, shrugging as he lifts his eyebrows in a playful way. “It’s only natural.” He lets go of the doorway, and every step he takes toward me is one I take backward until I bump into one of the seats. It almost tumbles over, but as I struggle to grab it, he’s already reached out and kept it from falling to the floor.
“Careful there. These are almost antique.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to remain calm, but he’s all up in my face and blocking the exit.
He gazes around at all the windows and the tapestries too. “Beautiful, isn’t it? This house has been in the Family’s possession for ages. But this room … this room always ignites something spiritual in the hearts of everyone who steps foot in here.”
Even he refers to this community as his family.
“What were you doing in here?” he asks.
“Ahh … nothing … just looking around,” I answer, but the way he looks at me makes me swallow. I don’t know what it is with these men, but the power they exude makes me feel weak. Vulnerable. As though my legs could falter right underneath me.
He cocks his head and glances at my fumbling fingers, and I immediately hide them behind my dress. “Do you need something?”
“No?” I mutter. “Why would I need something?” I shake my head, laughing, because it’s ridiculous, but at the same time, questions like that make me want to scream, cry, and tell him to get me the fuck out of here.
But he’s one of them. He would never help me.
Unless …
“Are you okay?” he asks, raising a brow.
I lower my head and blush. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think so, or are you sure? Because that conversation back there looked painful,” he says, adding a laugh. “President Lawrence has this way with people. It’s just how he is.” He shrugs. “Well anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’m happy we get to welcome you to the Family.”
I smash my lips together and nod. “Thanks … I guess.”
“You don’t seem happy about it, though,” he says.
Under His Rule (Dark Romance Suspense) Page 16