Bought (Assassin's Revenge Book 2)

by Crescent, Tara

  I bit my lip, chastened, and nodded my compliance. “Yes Sir.”

  He tilted his head towards my cunt. “Once more. Get going.”

  I obeyed. It was hard this time. My body was sensitive and it wanted to be left alone. My skin felt prickly and numb and each stroke brought slight pain. I grimaced and dipped my fingers into my slit, drawing the wetness over that sore spot and cajoling it towards pleasure.

  His hand cupped around my throat and I gulped. But he didn’t press. His hand just stayed wrapped around me. A mark of ownership and possession, but a touch that make me feel cherished.

  My fingers moved faster, as my clitoris began to respond to my touch. His right hand descended between my legs, and he shoved two fingers deep inside me, so that each rub of my fingers brought my hand in contact with his. I watched the brunette girl in the mirror, the one with the body and face I didn’t recognize, tremble with desire. I watched Alexander eye me with red-hot lust, yet I felt his tight control in the way his fingers moved.

  I shouted out. I came hard.

  For a few minutes, I was entirely unaware of what was happening. When my mind cleared, I was still on his lap. I could feel his erection against my ass, but he made no move to touch himself and he didn’t ask me to touch him either. He just smiled at me in the mirror. “To answer your earlier question, yes. That was your punishment.”

  “It didn’t seem very much like punishment,” I said without thinking, then winced at the stupidity of what I’d just said. What was I doing, asking to be beaten?

  His fingers stroked my hair. “It wasn’t much of a crime,” he replied. “The first time when I told you, you wouldn’t have known before that. So your first orgasm was purely pleasure. The second time, a warning. Only the third time warranted a punishment.”

  I understood. The first and second orgasms had been pleasurable. The third one was a little more painful and my body had required some coaxing to respond. But it had by no means been a punishment, not the way I’d been taught in Abeokuta.

  “Am I allowed to ask questions now?” He nodded and I continued. “Is this how you are going to punish me all the time?”

  “It depends on you.” His eyes bored into me. “When you trust me, we’ll play with more intensity, if that’s what you want. But not until then.”

  I didn’t understand. From what he was saying, I would need to ask to be punished. Why would I do that? It didn’t make any sense.

  But then, I remembered Madame Lorraine’s evaluation room, and how I’d fantasised that it was Alexander wielding the flogger that caressed my body. Did I want that to happen?

  My cunt spasmed at the idea, and I groaned inwardly. My body was conspiring against me.

  Chapter 13

  Ellie / Jenny:

  A discreet knock on the door jolted me out of his lap. ‘Room Service,’ I heard a voice call out, and Alexander grinned.

  “Breakfast?” he asked me. “It’s late, but you should eat. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

  I hastily donned one of the plush hotel dressing gowns. “What time is it?” The room didn’t seem to have a clock.

  “Eleven,” he replied. “In about fifteen minutes, someone is going to come to help you with your wardrobe.” He eyed me with hooded eyes. “Pity,” he muttered. He leaned forward and claimed my lips, and I groaned and let him, even snaking my arms around him and pulling him closer. I wanted him. My lust should have been quenched by my orgasms, but it wasn’t. It wouldn’t be until I felt the weight of his body on mine, felt his skin slide against my own.

  “Mm.” His eyes were amused as he surveyed me. “I like this version much better than the scared mouse.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” I responded dryly. One part of me, the girl who had been Dylan’s captive for two years was screaming at me to behave, to be quiet and good and compliant. But the braver, bolder part of me, the one Lucien had trained to be a killer, decided to take his comment at face value. He preferred that I not act like a frightened mouse? I could do that.

  He was still laughing as he walked towards the door and let in the white-clad waiter wheeling in a tray of food.

  ***

  I eyed him warily as I ate. He had watch me pleasure myself, but he hadn’t touched himself or ordered me to. He hadn’t fucked me, and I didn’t understand why. After all, he’d bought me for sex. I thought he’d have taken me well before this point.

  “I think the impact of those orgasms lasted about ten minutes,” he noted pointedly. “You are frowning again. What’s the matter?”

  “I’m wondering why you haven’t fucked me yet.”

  He politely pushed a plate of scrambled eggs towards me. “Eat,” he advised, taking a sip of orange juice.

  I ate a forkful, wondering if he was going to respond to my question. He grinned at me, a lazy smile that set my insides fluttering. I craved him and I needed him to crave me too. Then I registered something he said. “What wardrobe?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The clothing in your suitcase is completely unsuitable, Jenny. In Paris, we will go out. I can’t have you walking around in threadbare rags.”

  I contemplated being angry with him about his dismissal of my clothes, then I shrugged it aside. It was true enough. My clothes would mark me instantly as an outsider in his rich, privileged world. One thing I’d learned as an assassin was the importance of blending in. “Thank you,” I replied instead, taking another bite of toast and closing my eyes briefly in appreciation. The stupid starvation diet I’d been on to look appealing enough for him had expressly forbidden bread. Toast had never tasted better.

  “Interesting, I would have expected a protest.” His voice was thoughtful. “I’m going to enjoy getting to know you, Jenny.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why does it matter what I want? It doesn’t. Your needs are paramount.”

  “Is that so?” His lips curled into a line of distaste. “Your last master was a dick, if you really believe that.”

  “Oh, come on, Alexander,” I snapped, goaded. He had purchased me at an auction. I didn’t have the ability to sit in front of him and be wooed with room service and fine clothes and kind words. “You bought me for a million dollars. If you think that puts us on any kind of equal footing, you are sadly mistaken.” I breathed heavily. I’d almost lost my temper.

  “I bought you for a million dollars.” He didn’t look perturbed by my outburst. “Although I prefer to think of it as helping someone who was obviously in need. I have enough of an appreciation about the meaning of family to understand your desperation.”

  Ah, yes. My imaginary sister with her life-threatening leukemia.

  “Do you just go around sprinkling your billions then at the less-fortunate mortals?” I was still angry. I jumped to my feet in agitated rage. Inside, the part of me that had endured Dylan screamed at me to shut the fuck up, but I wasn’t listening. I had enough of this sanctimonious bullshit, this nonsense about how my desires and limits mattered. I’d seen too much in Nigeria to ever believe that.

  “You should calm down,” he said evenly. “Sit down and finish your meal.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I didn’t understand what I was doing. My sudden anger was inexplicable and a real threat to my true mission. I wanted Alexander to be captivated by me, so enamoured that he would take me to Hanoi with him. Screaming at him, my fists clenched tight, this was not the way to go about it.

  He didn’t respond. He gestured instead to my chair. The message was clear. Sit down.

  “Or what?” I ground out. “If I don’t sit down and do as I say, you’ll beat me into submission?”

  He rose to his feet and there was real anger on his face. I’d finally pushed him enough. I clenched in fear. Relax, I tried to tell myself. You are a fighter. You can take him.

  Yet I couldn’t reveal my skills. I was Jenny Fullerton from Cleveland and I was weak. Ellie Samuelson, the woman who had trained and practiced and fought so that she’d never have to return to slavery, had to re
main hidden. Whatever Alexander was going to do to me now, I would have to endure or forfeit my revenge against Dylan.

  He moved towards me. His hands undid the knot of the dressing gown I’d clad, pushing the fabric away from my shoulders, leaving me naked. He turned me so I was facing the wall and pushed me against it. My cheek rested against the cool paint.

  His touch was firm and controlled. I felt a pulse of fear, but it was followed swiftly by a wave of desire.

  “Stay still.” The words were an order and it was clear that he expected compliance.

  His body pressed against mine. His hand reached out to stroke me, from my back, past my shoulders, then closing around the back of my neck. His knee was wedged between my thighs, holding me open for his pleasure. I was absolutely convinced that the juices from my cunt would stain his linen pants. “When I punish you,” he said, his voice a whisper of promise in my ear. “You will welcome it. Your pleading, pouting lips will voice words of longing. Your body will crave it and so will your mind.”

  His grip tightened around my hair and tiny bursts of pain sparkled on my scalp. He bent his mouth towards my face. “But if you think that I’m going to beat you every time we argue, I’m going to disappoint you. The sooner you learn what real submission and dominance is, the quicker we can get on with enjoying this obvious chemistry between us. But I’m not going to bed an angry, scared kitten, Jenny. Doing so will fulfil nothing other than quenching a very momentary need and I’m not a teenager any more, with no control over my desires.”

  His words chastened. His body beckoned. Then a knock on the door sounded and he moved away to answer it, leaving me suddenly bereft.

  ***

  The woman who bustled in pulling a clothes rack behind her couldn’t have been over five feet tall. She reminded me a little of Madame Lorraine, though the two looked nothing alike. Perhaps it was the sense of warmth that she radiated.

  “Mr. Hamilton,” she greeted Alexander, enveloping him with a hug. “It’s good to see you again.”

  I swear Alexander blushed a little. “Hello, Mrs. Suramongkol,” he said, when she’d let him go. “It’s good to see you too. Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice.”

  She clucked fondly, and I had to wonder once again at Alexander. The guy was clearly a freaking billionaire. Mrs. Suramongkol was obviously ‘help’. Yet he was faultlessly polite, and he moved automatically to help her with the clothes rack so that she wouldn’t have to struggle with it.

  I couldn’t lie. I found his good manners off-the-charts hot. When I worked in the mall in Cleveland, I was exposed to a lot of people. Some of them were rude, but a rare few were not. The politeness was always seductive.

  A white sheet covered the clothes and Mrs. Suramongkol whisked them off, before turning to me. “You must be Jenny.”

  I smiled hesitantly and nodded, but stayed silent. She ran an assessing eye over me, before turning to Alexander with a pleased look. “You got her measurements correct.”

  Alexander’s lips twitched and I snorted inwardly. No doubt his ability to judge the measurements of women came from a lot of experience. “I can’t stay,” he told both of us. “Unfortunately, I have to work. Jenny, Mrs. Suramongkol can help you find suitable clothing, but you’ll have to tell her what you like and don’t like.” He fixed me with a slightly mocking look. “That should be good practice for you.”

  Asshole. “Yes, Alexander,” I said dutifully instead and his eyes flashed irritated fire at me. Alexander really didn’t seem to like his women meek and cowed.

  Mrs. Suramongkol was busying herself removing clothing from hangers, trying vainly to ignore the charged exchange that was taking place in front of her. I felt bad for her. I’d been in her shoes as couples fought at the cash register of the clothing store I worked at and I always wanted to be anywhere else in that moment. I turned towards her with an apologetic smile. “I’m all yours,” I told her.

  Alexander chuckled, but covered it up with a cough. “Oh, Jenny, before I forget?” He handed me a brand-new, shiny, top-of-the-line smartphone. “It’ll work all over the world.” He leaned forward to kiss my lips gently. “Call your sister with it whenever you need, okay?”

  I blinked back sudden, unexpected tears. He had no idea my entire cover story was a lie and in that moment, I felt horrible for deceiving him. Perhaps he was exactly who he said he was. Perhaps he really did want a submissive, not a slave. Perhaps he didn’t know who Dylan really was and what Sylvia did for a living. Perhaps he was just the money guy, and outside of it, a decent human being who was thoughtful enough to remember that my sister was ill and I would be worried for her.

  The less emotional part of me snorted at that. When pigs fly, came the wry thought. It’s much more likely that your calls are being monitored. But I was finding it increasingly difficult to listen to that sensible voice.

  ***

  Mrs. Suramongkol had me shed the robe and she regarded my underwear with a bemused look. “No, no,” she shook her head, “this will not do.”

  This was my plain, serviceable black bra and panties. So we started with lingerie - an absolutely dizzying array of offerings she made me try on. Wisps of black lace. A confetti of colour. Soft, silky, virginal white. Polka dots. Animal prints. After the thirtieth garment, I voiced a protest. “I’m not going to need these many things,” I said, hoping I sounded firm.

  She shook her head. “Men like variety, Jenny,” she said. “You must keep your man entertained, no?”

  What was this, 1919? I ignored her expectation that I needed to be pretty for Alexander, but she continued, no doubt alerted by my mutinous expression. “Mr. Hamilton is a good man.” Her voice was reverent. “Kind. Thoughtful. Protective. The kind of man you hold on to.”

  “Do you say this to each of the women you do this for?” The moment those words came out of my mouth, I wished them back. She obviously doted on Alexander. Who was I to correct her?

  She looked puzzled, then irritated. “This is the first time I’ve been asked for help,” she said. Her tone indicated that she was done talking to me. “Now, try on the more casual daywear.”

  When she left, I looked helplessly at the closet. What had been a previously bare space now was filled to the brim with the softest of silks, the crispest of cottons, and the most touchable of wools. Dresses and pants, shirts and skirts to wear during the day. Gorgeously draped evening gowns for the night. The most beautiful lingerie I’d ever seen. My hands itched to caress them all, to reach out and hug the garments against my skin.

  The most unexpected thing of all was that the clothes were what I would have picked out for myself, if I had infinite wealth. They were beautiful, well-tailored and sophisticated. When I wore them, I felt like a sexy, yet confident woman. The clothes weren’t slutty. They didn’t reduce me to an object for Alexander’s desire.

  In response to my question, Mrs. Suramongkol tersely mentioned that Alexander had called her yesterday evening. It seemed that the moment Alexander had surveyed the contents of my suitcase, he’d taken silent steps to remedy the situation. As tempting as it was to be outraged at his high-handedness, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t overlook the generosity and the consideration.

  Before Mrs. Suramongkol was done, the next caller appeared, a dark-skinned man with round glasses and greying hair. This was the jeweller and he’d dropped off an absolute treasure chest of gems. From the way he warned me to put them away in the safe, I’d no doubt everything he’d given me was real. I reassured myself that the jewelry had to be a loan. There had to be over a million dollars in gems in front of me. Alexander just wanted to make sure that I looked appropriately ornamental on his arm.

  I sighed. My mission should have been simple enough. Entice some middle-aged guy enough that he would take me to Hanoi. Kill Dylan. But Alexander turned out to be Marc and he wanted a deeper level of trust from me that I wasn’t able to give him.

  Don’t treat me like a person, damn it, I wanted to shout. You a
re nothing but a means to an end for me. Don’t act as if I matter. Don’t pretend you care. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.

  Chapter 14

  Ellie / Jenny:

  I had about an hour to myself once Mrs. Suramongkol and the jeweller had departed. Alexander was nowhere to be seen. I contemplated going out for a walk but decided I didn’t know if it violated his rules. I didn’t know if I was supposed to sit in his hotel room and wait for him. It would have been what Dylan would have expected. And my time with Dylan was the only blueprint I had to guide me in this situation.

  But about fifteen minutes after the jeweller had left, the new phone that Alexander had given me buzzed. I picked it up. “Jenny, this is Alexander,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know I’m probably going to be a little bit longer. I’m sorry. If you want to go out, there’s a car downstairs that’ll take you around.”

  “Okay.” I hesitated and plunged forward. “Should I wait for you to eat lunch?”

  “Fuck.” He swore into the phone. “Sorry, cherie. I forgot about food. There are a couple of restaurants in the hotel. Put it on the room tab.”

  Evidently, part of being my ridiculously wealthy Dominant was paying for every meal. I should have been used to it. Slaves didn’t think about money and during my training period with Lucien, I’d been paid a stipend while I focused on my revenge. Lucien was rich but we’d agreed quickly that it wasn’t healthy if I had to run to him for my every financial need.

  But that wasn’t going to be the dynamic at play here. The racks of clothing in front of me, the velvet boxes with jewelry in them – these were all so that I could be arm-candy. The appropriately attired pet of a billionaire.

  There was rebellion in my heart, though there shouldn’t have been. It was foolhardy to my mission for me to even sow the slightest seed of discord. I was Alexander’s submissive. My job was to surrender with eagerness and pleasure. All I had to do was look pretty and have sex with him as often as he wanted it.