Takeover: The Complete Series

by Lana Grayson

  Reed had no problem offering Sarah up, but the son of a bitch would give us away. His delay lasted a second too long. Max sneered, but Reed moved before he barked the order again. His hands jerked over the belt. He tossed it to Max. He turned, but my father’s command prevented him from escaping.

  “You will watch this,” he said.

  We all would.

  We all deserved to suffer.

  Max tested the leather belt, but the loop he created wasn’t meant to lash her. Sarah flinched and shielded her face as though she expected a strike.

  Her eyes flashed pale, wide and terrified.

  My heart would shatter with her. She didn’t know it, couldn’t possibly understand it, but sacrificing her to my brother was the only way she’d live to hear my apology.

  Sarah flinched from Max, but she couldn’t escape his authority. The belt jerked over her neck. She fought. Ripped at the leather, struggled to get away.

  “Enough.” Max had no patience. He immediately tightened it too hard around her throat. Sarah choked, but she should have been accustomed to losing her breath. She went still. Max waited, counting the passing seconds as he earned her fear.

  Sarah gasped as he finally let her breathe. He fashioned the belt into a leash and tugged.

  “Come with me, baby,” he said. “Follow close.”

  She no longer looked at me. Her shoulders sagged. Abandoned.

  I’d have taken the pain to spare her what was coming.

  Max helped her from the pool table, an arm around her waist. She crumpled to her feet, but attempted to rise. Max gently twisted his fingers in her hair and tugged on the leash.

  “No, no,” he whispered. “Crawl for me.”

  She shuddered. My father laughed. Reed met my stare.

  A plea to stay quiet.

  Strength to endure it.

  The unspoken order to hide my rage to protect the girl.

  And I’d do it. I’d let Max ruin her if only because Sarah Atwood clawed her way under my skin and burrowed deep where she didn’t belong. Her fight, her desire, her delirious heat. She filled my head with unnecessary confusion and dirtied my fingers with dirt from her grave.

  Keeping her for myself was a dangerous lust. My father would have noticed. Every second she spent wrapped in my arms was more reason for him to steal her and leave her bloody and broken. To him, Sarah wasn’t a woman. She was an enemy to be bred and a fortune to acquire. Her womb was the only reason she lived, and she was fortunate for the opportunity to offer it to us.

  The Mediterranean styled bar set apart from the game room with rolling arches and lavish tiles. Max wrapped the belt over a column and forced Sarah to straddle the marble. He tangled her hands in the bound leather and pushed her forward until she pressed her breasts hard into the stone.

  “Flogger or crop?” Max played with her hair, carefully tugging it from under the leash so as not to pinch her.

  Sarah shook her head. He patted her cheek and asked again. Her bare shoulders trembled as she clutched the column.

  “Flogger. Or. Crop?”

  Her voice wavered. “I…don’t know the difference.”

  The poor girl.

  My father laughed. “Flog her. It’ll teach a greater lesson.”

  He settled within a leather chair, admiring how Sarah curled around the column. She cradled against it, either trying to break through or find a way to hide her nudity.

  I should have stopped it. I should have taken her, let her cling to me, protected her. But my father watched for signs of disobedience. He expected my fight.

  Now was not a time to challenge him. Not with the plans I had in motion, and the deals I made in the quiet dark of betrayal. More was at stake than the lovely paleness of Sarah’s unbroken skin. Billions of dollars, each and every penny depending on his life.

  If he believed I was anything but his devoted heir, the company would fall.

  And if he thought I forged any sort of loyalty to Sarah Atwood, the girl would be flayed alive.

  Had I plunged that wooden shard into his side, we’d have lost everything—the company, the money, and our freedom for the crime.

  Sarah unwillingly sacrificed another innocence for the Bennett family.

  Max grazed the soft skin along her back. She winced as his hand drifted low, just barely touching the curve of her ass. He pushed her high onto her knees, encouraging her with a whisper.

  “I’ll return,” he said. “Stay still, baby.”

  Max moved quickly, nodding to our father and limping only once he believed no one looked. I distracted myself at the bar, preparing three tumblers of whiskey. My father accepted the glass with a grin. He gestured to the seat beside him.

  Sarah couldn’t see me behind her, but I saw everything. I’d watch it all. Every bite of the flogger. Every blossoming bruise. Every cry.

  And I’d make sure this was her last punishment.

  Max returned, and Sarah flinched with each of his lumbering, uneven steps. She squeezed the column.

  “Max, please…” Her whisper hadn’t broken yet. The shadow of pride lingered in her plea, like she bargained for her freedom. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll behave. I’ll go to my room. I won’t bother anyone—”

  The flogger whistled before it struck. Sarah’s words curled into a surprised, blistered scream. She slammed against the column, but the belt prevented her from escaping. She crumpled. Max gripped her hair and moved her back into place.

  “You aren’t to make a sound,” he said.

  My father snorted. “Make her scream. Let her realize no one will come to save her.”

  “No.” Max stared at the pink welts creeping over her back. He rubbed a hand over the tender area. “She gives me a headache.”

  Sarah would be silent if we forced her to scream, and she’d shriek if we demanded she remained quiet. She swore between gasped breaths, but the insults lessened as Max called to me.

  “Nick?” He waved a hand. “Your tie?”

  He was smarter than my father believed. He took Reed’s belt, my tie, and he bluffed him into thinking we got off on the charade. The designer tie was one of many, but at least it looked as good resting between Sarah’s lips as it did complimenting my suits.

  The dark silk knotted within the pale blonde of Sarah’s hair. She fought it, only until the tickle of the flogger brushed her side. Max praised her behavior.

  She wouldn’t be passive for long.

  He stood and surveyed his prey. Max wasn’t a subtle man. I understood his preferences even if I didn’t particularly share his methods. The flogger flicked over his hands.

  Sarah wasn’t prepared for his strike.

  The leather kissed her skin before biting. A jagged crisscross of welts rose from where he previously hit. Her cry muffled. Both Max and my father enjoyed it. Reed downed his whiskey without a sound.

  Another swipe.

  Sarah jerked, and Max wove his hand over her neck, brushing her fine blonde hair to admire the redness he created.

  A third hit.

  Sarah coughed over my tie. Whatever she said was lost within the struggle. It hadn’t been polite. I credited Max’s forethought in gagging her.

  The fourth hit startled her.

  The fifth pained her.

  And the six drove her to tears.

  She sunk against the column, gasping for air and fighting to stretch the aching skin flushing her back. Her fight earned her no mercy, no pity. The belt only tightened around her neck.

  The next strikes crippled her in a breathless agony. Quick flicks of Max’s wrist sliced her skin. The leather wrapped over her sides and tucked against her thighs. It nipped the sensitive welts already abused from my father’s assault.

  Max flogged her, but his attack was less severe than the beating with the pool cue.

  How the hell could my father hurt such a delicate creature?

  The whiskey soured, but its fire extinguished whatever foolish pride might have prevented any more of the spectacle.
/>   Sarah should have known the consequences.

  She shouldn’t have left her room.

  She shouldn’t have tested me, teased me, enthralled me with her touch.

  I should never have let her go.

  Her weeping drove my father to the edge of his seat. His hands wove over themselves, as though imagining touching her bruised skin. I trembled in a untested fury.

  Max knew what to do. Another strike conquered Sarah. She sunk to the floor when her knees no longer supported her. She didn’t bother hiding her breasts. Her legs twisted, but the pink promise between her thighs flashed to everyone.

  The temptation destroyed us all.

  Sarah couldn’t fight. She wouldn’t struggle. She’d offer before the flogger touched her again.

  I would have taken it. Not a man alive wouldn’t have launched, buried himself inside her, and marked her for his own.

  I wondered if she’d ever forgive us.

  I wondered more when I started to care.

  The flogger dropped. Max’s quick glance was enough of a warning.

  “She’s ready.” He seized the belt and released her from the column. “I’ll keep her in one piece.”

  My father surveyed her injuries once more. “She’s meant to be bred. Do whatever you wish, but seed her cunt when you’re done.”

  “Of course.”

  Sarah gripped the leather around her neck as we rose. Reed disappeared. I lingered, buttoning my jacket. She fumed in spitting hatred. Her teeth ground against the tie.

  Sarah imagined it was me.

  It was the first logical thought the girl had.

  And I’d let her hate me. I’d let her curse me. I’d let her blame me.

  What was about to happen would be far worse than enduring her temper.

  I left Sarah Atwood, naked and helpless, within the arms of my brother.

  And I could do nothing to protect her from his desire.

  17

  Sarah

  They left me alone with Max.

  I sunk against the column. The belt around my neck constricted.

  I didn’t want to be flogged anymore. I hated my nudity. I ground my teeth into the tie. It tasted of salt. Tears. Humiliation.

  How dare they beat me?

  I expected it from Darius Bennett. Hell, I was surprised I still lived. The chase through the house only delayed his rage. I should have realized the hunt excited him.

  I had no idea it would thrill his second son as well.

  Max gifted me a sanctuary to recover from my asthma attack, and he anticipated my needs in the hospital. But that didn’t make him an ally, and I’d forever regret even considering that any Bennett might have helped me. My step-father controlled everyone and everything within the estate.

  No one would help me. No one would save me. They all would eventually hurt me.

  Including Nicholas.

  Foolishness bound me to the column, not the leather belt strapped around my neck. I was beaten because of my idiocy, arrogance, and naivety.

  It was my fault I now faced Maxwell Bennett.

  But I thanked my every fading fortune that I was not at Darius’s mercy.

  “Are you hurting, baby?” Max unraveled Nicholas’s tie. I debated staying quiet.

  I wasn’t that strong. “What do you think?”

  The flogger rose and fell before I prepared for it. The leather lashes stung against my heated skin. I yelped, crashing against the marble.

  “I think you should be more respectful,” he said.

  “Hard to respect a man wielding a weapon.”

  “I’ll use my hand if you prefer.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  Max circled me. He bent at the waist, tipping my chin with the flogger. The soft leather surprised me. It burned like fire against my back, but teased like a caress when he wished it. I tried to hide my breasts.

  “I asked if you were hurt.” His voice edged hard. Not the conquering cadence of Nicholas. A touch of violence and threat shadowed his words.

  Max wasn’t wearing a shirt, though the sleeves of tattoos and tribal thorns obscured most of his skin. The ink practically pulsed in the sheer strength of his form. Muscle upon muscle. Whatever he did wasn’t a workout, it was obsession, a compulsion to become bigger, stronger. I wasn’t ashamed that my gaze drifted over his body, away from the dark severity of his features and onto the remorseless strength pooling in the twitching of his pecs, the steady breathing rocking his abs, and lower.

  A thick V defined his hips, and his hardness held his trousers upon his waist.

  He favored one leg. Had my hands not been tied, I might have struck at his injury. But I behaved. Even with a bad leg, I wasn’t fast enough to escape from a man so fiercely sculpted.

  “Sarah,” he said. “Tell me if you’re okay.”

  Like he deserved to know. “I’m still breathing.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  The flogger jerked away. I flinched with it.

  I wished he’d release the belt around my neck. Instead he made me crawl to him as he sat in one of the leather chairs.

  He tugged the leash, forcing me between his legs. He admired my nudity and all the shivers that rolled over me. The belt pinched before I considered popping him where it counted. I forced myself still, hoping he wouldn’t strangle me in some perverted kink I didn’t understand.

  “You haven’t thank me,” he said.

  “Why would I thank you?”

  “I just saved your life, baby.”

  I shivered. “You beat me.”

  “And had it been my father, you’d be raped with a broken pool cue, beaten, and left to bleed out in the garage.” He jiggled the belt and smirked. It didn’t soften his expression. I didn’t think anything would. “You’d be dead, sis. So you better thank me for saving your beautiful ass.”

  Christ, he was telling the truth.

  Darius would have murdered me.

  But what did Max expect in exchange for his kindness?

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Good girl.”

  “Can you let me go now?”

  “Not a chance.”

  I kicked. The leash tugged, and I fell deeper into his lap. My bare breasts pushed against his legs.

  “I didn’t say to move,” he warned.

  “Max, please.”

  “Please, what?” He laughed. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “That this?” He caressed the belt wrapped over my neck. “This is your life now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” I whispered. “You don’t have to do this. You could let me go.”

  “Did Nick let you go last night?”

  I didn’t look away in time. He saw my blush. Worse, he felt me tense. Max sensed every bit of betrayal and anger, confusion and blame I pitted on his brother.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said. “Nick does what’s expected of him. Always did. Always will.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he did. Forget him.”

  “Can you?”

  “Max, I’m asking you. Please. You don’t have to…to…”

  “Fuck you?” He studied my body. The flick of his eyes over my bare form was every bit as humiliating and degrading as he could make it. “Yes. I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my father expects it.” He jerked the belt. I resisted, but he tugged and toppled me on his chest. My palms rested against his muscle. His whisper added yet another tension around my neck. “And because I want to fuck you.”

  “You want to hurt me?”

  “You’ve been calling the Bennetts monsters ever since we met. Consider this your validation.”

  “You could be different.”

  “I’ll only say this once, baby.” Max drew me closer. “I’m not Nicholas.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “But that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
/>
  “Of course you don’t.”

  The heat from his body passed into me. I shouldn’t have gotten that close. I didn’t understand what was happening. His muscles flexed. The panic fogged my mind.

  He’d break me in two.

  “Do you get off on this?” I whispered. “Beating women?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “What’s not to like?” Max shifted me to the floor. He kicked at my knee and adjusted the belt, forcing me to sit with my legs open.

  He saw everything. I raced the twisting of my stomach to cover myself before the shame colored me pink.

  “You’re a beautiful woman,” Max said. “And you’re helpless. I enjoy that.”

  “Monster.”

  “You like it too, baby.”

  His words resonated deep within my belly. I didn’t cower as he loomed over me, not when he would have liked it, gotten off on it, and used it against me. I braved his dark gaze.

  I wish I hadn’t looked.

  “I don’t like this,” I said.

  “You’ve already submitted to me.”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “I’ll show you.”

  The flogger danced across his hand. I whimpered as it crossed over my chest, catching my nipple within the sting of the leather.

  “You like the fight,” he said. “You like resisting. Challenging us. Thinking you have a choice.”

  “I do have a choice.”

  “You don’t.” He silenced me with another slice of the flogger against my belly. “And the sooner you realize it, the safer you’ll be.”

  “I’d rather be in danger than become a toy for a Bennett.”

  “Then you’ll be both, and you’ll still lose.”

  The damn leather again. I yelped as he struck only to watch my body welt. I hid a lot of things, but the sting was as impossible to conceal as the streaks of pink spread in its wake. It wasn’t fair.

  “Are you afraid of me, baby?” He asked.

  Why lie?

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  I tensed as he stood, preparing for the inevitable strike of the flogger. It didn’t come. Instead, he grunted and rubbed his thigh.

  Even he couldn’t hide everything. I took a chance.

  “What happened to your leg?” The weapon didn’t crash down. He permitted my question, though his harsh sneer faded within a tense moment.