by Anna Zaires
I don’t know how long I’ve been tied up, but my bladder’s convinced it’s been forever.
“I need to pee,” I tell Lucas, figuring I have nothing to lose by being honest. “Would it be okay if I went to the bathroom before the examination?”
Lucas’s frown deepens, but he gives a curt nod. “Let’s go,” he says when he’s done with the rope. Grabbing my arm, he pulls me up, his grip as rough as upon my arrival. Startled, I nearly stumble as he drags me down the hallway, the gentleness of this morning nowhere in sight.
My anxiety returns. Was I wrong about him, or did something happen? Does this examination have something to do with it?
Before I can analyze my captor’s alarming behavior, he pushes me into the bathroom and says harshly, “You have one minute and not a second longer.”
And on that note, he slams the door shut.
8
Lucas
When I bring Yulia back into the living room, Goldberg has her stand while he feels her pulse and listens to her breathing with a stethoscope. “Good, good,” he mutters under his breath, jotting down something in his notebook.
He bends down to look at a big bruise on her knee, and Yulia shoots me an anxious glance. I can see that she wants answers, but I don’t give her any reassurance.
I don’t want the doctor to know how much I’ve softened toward my captive.
After a minute, Goldberg stops and gives Yulia a smile. “Just a few scrapes and bruises,” he says cheerfully. “You’re underweight and a little malnourished, but a few good meals should fix that. Now, I’d like to take some blood if you don’t mind. Please, have a seat.”
He points toward the couch, and Yulia glances at me again.
“Sit,” I bark, doing my best to ignore the distressed look that steals over her face as she complies.
Goldberg pulls on a pair of latex gloves and takes out a syringe with an attached vial. “This won’t be too bad,” he promises. I wonder if he’s trying to compensate for my harsh manner. He’s not usually this gentle with the guards—though, granted, none of them have Yulia’s fragile beauty.
She doesn’t wince or make a sound as the needle sinks into her skin, her expression one of stoic endurance. I, on the other hand, have to fight an irrational urge to tear Goldberg away from her.
I hate to see someone hurting her, even if it’s the doctor I brought here myself.
“All done,” Goldberg says, taking the needle out and pressing a small sterile pad to the wound. “I’ll take this to my lab for analysis. Now, one last thing…” He gives me an imploring look, and I respond with a curt shake of my head.
I’m not leaving him alone with Yulia; he’ll have to do the exam with me present.
Goldberg sighs and turns his attention back to her. “I have to perform a gynecological examination,” he says apologetically. “To make sure you’re okay.”
“What?” Yulia’s eyes widen. “Why?”
“Just do it.” I make my voice as hard as I can. I’m not about to explain that I’m worried I hurt her last night with my roughness. She had been wet, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t tear her or bruise her internally.
Her face is bright pink as she lies down on the couch, obeying Goldberg’s instructions. As the doctor pulls up her shirt and takes out a speculum, I force myself to stand still instead of ripping into the man for touching her. Goldberg is gay, but seeing his hands on her still awakens something savage in me—something that makes me want to murder any man who touches what’s mine.
The exam takes less than a minute. I watch Yulia carefully to make sure she doesn’t lash out at the doctor, but she lies still, her knees bent and her eyes trained on the ceiling. Only her hands betray her agitation; they’re clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides.
When Goldberg is done, he carefully pulls down Yulia’s shirt and steps away. “All done,” he says, addressing us both. “Everything seems fine. The IUD is in place, so you have nothing to worry about.”
IUD? I frown at the doctor, but he’s already explaining, “An intrauterine contraceptive device. Birth control.”
“I see.” I give Yulia a speculative glance. If she’s protected and the doctor determines she’s clean, I could fuck her without a rubber.
My cock twitches with instant arousal.
She sits up on the couch, staring straight ahead, and I see that her cheeks are still flaming with color. I want to embrace her and assure her that everything’s okay, that I didn’t do this to humiliate her, but now is not the time.
As far as the doctor knows, she’s a prisoner I despise, and I have to treat her as such.
* * *
After thanking Goldberg, I usher him out and return to the living room, where Yulia is still sitting on the couch. Her face is back to its normal porcelain shade, but her eyes are glittering brightly. She’s upset—I can feel it, even though her expression is outwardly calm.
“Yulia.” As I approach, she looks away, her hair rippling down her back in a golden cloud. “Yulia, come here.”
She doesn’t respond, even when I reach for her and pull her up, forcing her to stand and face me. She also doesn’t look at me, her eyes focused on something just beyond my right ear.
Aggravated, I grip her jaw, turning her face so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. “I needed to make sure you’re okay,” I say harshly. It still bothers me on some level that I feel this way about her, that I want to heal her and keep her safe instead of hurting her. It’s a weakness, this obsession of mine, and I can’t help the anger that seeps into my tone as I say, “You could’ve had internal injuries.”
Her eyes narrow. “Bullshit. You just wanted to make sure you don’t have to wear a condom.”
Her accusation is so close to my earlier thought that I wonder for a second if I said it out loud.
Something must’ve shown on my face because Yulia lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, exactly.”
“That’s not why—” I cut myself off. I don’t owe her any explanations. If I want to have her examined so I can fuck her without a rubber, that’s my prerogative. I may no longer plan to torture her, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what she’s done. By her own actions, she’s placed herself in this situation, and now she’s mine.
I own her, for better or for worse.
“I’m clean,” I say instead. A better man would undoubtedly leave her alone after what she told me, but I’m not that man. I want her too much to deny myself. “I had all my blood work done after the crash, and I’m completely safe.”
Her jaw clenches. “Congratulations.”
The sarcasm that drips from her voice sets my teeth on edge and arouses me at the same time. Everything about the girl is a contradiction designed to drive me mad. Compliant yet defiant, fragile yet strong. One minute I want to break her, make her acknowledge that she needs me, and the next I want to wrap her in a cocoon and make sure nothing bad can ever touch her again.
The only thing I don’t want to do is let her go.
“Lucas.” She sounds anxious as I draw her toward me. “Wait, I—”
I cut her off by slanting my mouth across hers. Cupping the back of her head with one hand, I wrap my other arm around her waist, drawing her flush against me. My balls tighten as my stiff cock pushes against her flat stomach, my ever-present lust for her flaring uncontrollably. I sweep my tongue across her lips, feeling their plush softness, and then I push into her mouth, invading the deliciously warm depths. She moans in response, her hands clutching at my sides, and I drink in the small sound, feeling her slender body softening and melting against mine.
Fucking hell, I want her. Every inch of her, from head to toe. It’s wrong, it’s fucked up, it’s inconvenient, but I can’t stop myself. The hunger burns inside me, overpowering whatever scruples I still possess. I know I’m a bastard for coercing her after what she’s been through, but I can’t stay away. Maybe if she didn’t want me, it would be different, but she does. Even through two layers of cl
othing, I can feel her hard nipples pressing against my chest, can taste the sweetness of her response as her tongue coils eagerly around mine. She’s not pushing me away—if anything, she’s trying to get closer—and the mindless craving overtakes me, the savage in me taking control.
I don’t know how we end up on the couch, but I find myself propped up on one elbow on top of her, her T-shirt bunched around her waist as I slide my free hand down her body to cup her sex. She’s already wet, her folds slick and hot as I push two fingers into her, stretching her for my cock. At the same time, I grind the heel of my palm against her folds, putting pressure on her clit. Her inner walls spasm around my fingers as she moans my name, her neck arching and her nails raking down my back, and I know I can’t wait any longer.
Pulling my fingers out, I unzip my pants to free my aching erection, and push into her wet heat.
It’s like entering heaven. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a warning bell rings, reminding me about a condom, but I’m too far gone to withdraw. The clasp of her body is sheer perfection, so silky and tight that I can’t stop myself from plunging in all the way, as deep as I can go. She cries out, arching underneath me, and I lower my head to kiss her, capturing the sound as I take in her taste and scent, reveling in the sensory pleasure of possessing her, of taking her for my own.
Mine, she’s mine. The satisfaction the thought gives me is deep and primal, having nothing to do with logic and reason. I’ve fucked dozens of women without ever wanting to claim them, but that’s precisely what I want to do with her. Fucking Yulia is about more than just sex.
It’s about tying her to me, binding her so tightly she’ll never be able to leave.
Lifting my head, I stare down at her, my cock throbbing deep inside her body. Her eyes are closed, her parted lips are swollen from my kisses, and her skin is glowing with warm color.
She’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s mine.
“Yulia.”
She opens her eyes, and I realize I spoke her name out loud. Her gaze is unfocused, her pupils dilated as she stares up at me. She looks dazed, overcome by the same need that’s incinerating my insides, and the sight tempers my savage lust, filling me with a peculiar tenderness.
Lowering my head, I take her mouth again, swallowing her needy moan as I begin to thrust in and out, moving slowly so I can feel every inch of her tight warmth. I’ve never had sex bareback before, and the sensations are incredible. Her pussy is soft and silky, a slick, delicate sheath that appears to have been made just for me. Her inner walls clasp me, embracing me with creamy moisture as I slide in and out, and I focus on the soft clues of her breathing to gauge her response.
The primitive, possessive hunger that gripped me earlier is still there, but now it’s reined in by the need to please her, to make her feel at least a fraction of the ecstasy she gives me. Continuing to thrust in a slow, steady rhythm, I move my mouth from her lips to her neck and nibble on the tender skin there. At the same time, I slide my hand under her shirt and gently squeeze her breast.
“Lucas. Oh God, Lucas…” My name is a breathless plea on her lips as I scrape my teeth over her neck and catch her nipple between my fingers, twisting it lightly. She’s writhing with need now, her slim legs wrapping around my hips to draw me in deeper as her hands clutch at my sides. I can feel her quivering, her body wound as tightly as a spring, and I pick up my thrusting pace, sensing that she’s close.
When her orgasm hits, it’s like a quake that reverberates through my body. She tenses, arching beneath me with a cry, and her inner muscles ripple around my cock, the squeezing pressure so strong that it hurls me over the edge. My balls tighten, and then the orgasm sweeps through me, the pleasure dark and intense, shattering in its raw power.
Groaning, I thrust deeper into her and hold her tightly as my cum bursts out into her hot, spasming depths.
9
Yulia
Breathing hard, I lie under Lucas, my heart pounding in the aftermath of the devastation that is sex with my captor.
Why is it always like this with him, with this difficult, dangerous man who hates me? I’m far from inexperienced. It’s true that I’ve survived sex at its ugliest, but I’ve also known its more pleasant variations. My second assignment—Vladimir Vashkov, a trim forty-something FSB liaison—prided himself on being a good lover, and he introduced me to real orgasms, teaching me about arousal and pleasure. I thought I was able to handle anything a man could throw at me in bed, but clearly I was wrong.
I can’t handle Lucas Kent.
Maybe it would’ve been better if he had taken me roughly again. Lust—pounding, punishing lust—is what I expected when he reached for me. And it’s what he gave me at first, kissing me by force, using my body’s reaction to override my defenses. I was prepared for that after the last time, but I wasn’t prepared for his gentleness.
I didn’t expect him to treat me like I matter.
“Yulia.” He lifts his head, gazing down on me, and my cheeks heat up as our eyes meet. With the fog of lust receding, I become aware that he’s still deep inside me—and that I’m holding him there, my legs wrapped so tightly around his hips that he can’t move.
My flush intensifying, I unlock my ankles and lower my legs. I also change my grip on his sides to push him away instead of holding on to him. I can’t play Lucas’s game right now. It feels too real.
He leans down to brush a kiss on my lips and then carefully disengages from me. As he pulls out, I feel a warm, sticky wetness between my thighs.
His seed.
He fucked me without a condom after all.
Irrational bitterness seizes me, chasing away the remnants of my post-coital glow.
“You should’ve waited for the blood test,” I say, pulling my shirt down as Lucas pushes away from me and stands up, getting off the couch. Squeezing my legs together, I give him a hard look. “I have AIDS and syphilis, you know.”
“Do you now?” He sounds more amused than worried as he puts away his cock and zips up his jeans. His eyes gleam as he looks at me. “Anything else? Maybe gonorrhea?”
“No, just herpes and chlamydia.” I smile at him sweetly, propping myself up on one elbow. “But you’ll learn all of that soon, when the test results come back. Now, may I please have a towel or a tissue? I wouldn’t want to soil your nice carpet.”
To my disappointment, he doesn’t rise to my bait. Instead, he laughs and disappears into the kitchen, only to return a second later with a paper towel. “Here you go,” he says, handing it to me. Then he watches with undisguised interest as I sit up and wipe away the wetness on my thighs, doing my best to keep my shirt down as I do so.
“Good job,” he says when I’m done. “Now, are you hungry? I think it’s time for a second breakfast.”
I frown, more than a little frustrated that he’s being so calm. I don’t know why I want to yank at a tiger’s tail, but I do. I hate what he did to me; that impersonal doctor’s examination had been humiliating and dehumanizing. And then to come up with that bullshit excuse about potential internal injuries, as though I couldn’t see straight through him.
As though I don’t know that I’m his sex doll for as long as he cares to play with me.
“I’m not hungry,” I say, but right away realize I’m lying. My body is desperate for calories after being starved for so long. “Wait, no, actually—”
Before I can finish my sentence, I hear a faint buzzing sound and see Lucas reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his phone, looks at it, and lets out a quiet curse.
“What is it?” I ask, but he’s already grabbing my arm and pulling me off the couch.
“Esguerra needs me,” he says, leading me down the hall. “Use the restroom if you need to, and then I have to tie you up again. We’ll eat when I return.”
And just like that, he’s my unfeeling captor once more.
10
Lucas
Julian Esguerra is already in his office when I step in, the flatscr
een monitors on the wall displaying news from all over the world. I take note of the Bloomberg one, where a reputable economist is forecasting another market crash.
It may be time to catch up with my investment manager.
I walk past a large oval conference table and approach Esguerra’s wide desk, which is populated with several computer screens. He’s on the phone, so he gestures for me to take a seat in one of the high-end leather chairs. I do so and wait for him to wrap up his conversation. Given the mention of Israeli border security, I’m guessing he’s talking with his contact at the Israeli intelligence agency, the Mossad.
After a minute, Esguerra hangs up and turns his attention to me. “How’s the interrogation going?” he asks. “Any progress so far?”
“A little,” I say with a shrug. “Nothing worth mentioning yet.” I don’t usually keep secrets from my boss, but I don’t want to discuss Yulia with him until I figure out the best way to approach the topic. Out of everyone on the estate, he’s the only one with the power to take her away from me—which means I need to tread carefully.
Esguerra’s harsh reputation is well deserved.
“Good.” He seems satisfied with my answer. “Now, on to the reason I wanted you here…”
“An urgent security matter, you said.”
“Yes.” He leans back, interlocking his hands behind his head. “Nora and I will be taking a trip to the States to visit her family. I’m going to need you to make sure we—and they—are fully protected for the duration.”
“You’re going to visit your wife’s parents? In Oak Lawn?” I’m convinced I must’ve misheard him, but he nods.
“We’ll be there for two weeks,” he says. “And I want the security to be top-notch.”
“All right,” I say. I’m fairly certain Esguerra’s lost his mind, but it’s not my place to say so. If he wants to enter a country where he’s technically wanted by the FBI and spend two weeks with the parents of a girl he kidnapped, married, and impregnated, that’s his business.