Being a big guy I tend to eat a lot. In Zagreb, finding a spot where I can eat quickly while on the job is a necessity, but when I’m home I enjoy the creativity of cooking. It is an interesting stress reliever. B is always digging around for leftovers when he swings by for his daily workout. He should be here in a few hours, actually.
I pause mid-chop and wonder if she’s chilly down there. No, she’s fine. It wasn’t too cool. Women seem to get colder more easily than men. I’m keeping that in mind because the evenings here drop to around 4.4 Celsius, or around 40 Fahrenheit, with winter still making its presence known in the early spring air.
I make a mental note to keep all the fireplaces going. She doesn’t have much in the way of clothing and seeing as it’s my house and I’m in charge, it’s staying that way. Today is the day she’ll start talking—over a nice long lunch. Either that, or she’ll face consequences I doubt she’ll enjoy.
Chapter Ten
Croatian Lessons
Infuriating man! How in the hell could I have begged him for release? What is wrong with me? Ugh, pathetic!
After straightening my gown, I collect myself and hop off the high table. Picking up my discarded underwear, I slip them back into place. Could there be anything in this room I could use to my advantage? After an extensive search of the large cellar, I only come across a myriad of boxing and martial arts sparring equipment. In effect, nothing that could do damage.
There is a massive steel bank safe in the shadowy, far corner that most likely contains a gun and/or a martial arts weapon collection. Damn, I wish I had the combination to that baby! I’m handy with both, and although I adore animals, I wouldn’t hesitate to take down those guard dogs if they stood between me and freedom.
The gym is well equipped with the best weights and mats available. I have seen many of the same items in my martial arts school back in Atlanta. No wonder he has such a heavenly body.
Don’t go there again, Carew!
I’m still unnerved by our recent passionate encounter, and the sex last night was as close to perfection as it gets. I was unaware of how alive, how on fire I could feel during sex. My attraction to him is clouding my judgment. Part of me yearns for his company, wanting to learn more about him. I’ve never known a man like him, so strong and virile. So certain of his beliefs. I’m truly intrigued … but always wary.
At that thought, the cellar door opens. I turn, the silk swishing at my legs, and wait, not wanting to make him angry again; I really don’t want to spend the entire day down here.
“Well?” he says in a smooth, calm voice.
Breathing in through my nose I begin, “I apologize, Zoran. It was rude to compare you to Juric. I adore the gown. It’s beautiful, actually. Thank you. I’m just frustrated at being trapped here.”
I hold my breath and wait. He seems to be taking in what I said, and after a few seconds he calls out, “All right then, Carew. Come to me.”
He still sounds annoyed. Will I ever grow accustomed to his agro attitude? I mean, come on! A sassy reply is on the tip of my tongue when I am overcome by the heavenly blend of scents wafting down the steps to tempt me. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.
I silently climb the steep stairs, careful not to look up at him lest I lose my nerve. When I reach the top, he moves back, allowing me to walk ahead of him down the hallway into a room I’ve never been in. The long table is set with silver utensils and white linen napkins. Does he eat like this when he’s alone? I can’t help but wonder.
He steps around me and pulls out a formal, padded dining chair. “Please sit.”
A caring kidnapper? Could this get any weirder? The thought flees as the overflowing plates demand my attention. A white and blue-patterned platter full of succulent sliced lamb rests in the center of the table. There is also a basket of soft-looking bread and a plate of colorful cooked vegetables. It all looks amazing.
Don’t go there, girl. He wants you compliant for him and Stockholm syndrome is so not your friend!
Zoran lowers his large frame into a chair at the head of the table, directly to my left. He places his napkin across his lap with graceful ease before reaching for an unusual, disk-shaped bottle that holds a lemon-yellow liquor. The label reads ‘Sljivovica.’ He fills the bottom quarter of my wide-bodied glass snifter and then pours at least twice that much into his.
“Have you tried this before?”
I shake my head no.
“It’s what you would call plum brandy or schnapps. Very well known throughout my country.”
“Is it common to drink alcohol at noon?”
He gives me a truly perplexed look. “In America you do not?”
“It’s not common, no.”
“How strange.”
I gesture back and forth between us. “As if this isn’t?”
He sets the heavy bottle of brandy down with a hard thunk. “Are you angling for a challenge that we both know you can’t win, princeza?”
I look away in annoyance and notice all the mostly black and white photographs neatly displayed along the walls. “Are these all your relatives, Zoran?”
“Yes.” He places a portion of everything on my plate before serving himself.
“Do any of them live around here?”
His hands freeze mid-air. I watch his knuckles go white with tension. His fingers grip the silver serving utensils as if he wants to strangle them.
Uh oh, really bad topic ….
He manages to push the words out. “Everyone is dead.”
“Oh my. I-I’m so sorry.”
This has gone from awkward to supremely uncomfortable in a flash. I smooth my napkin for the seventh time and stare at the yellow liquor in embarrassment.
When he speaks again he seems to have calmed a bit. “Please eat, before everything gets cold.”
I begin to cut the lamb with a knife but there really is no need. It’s so tender that I could just use my fork. I take the first small bite and close my eyes, groaning with appreciation.
“Mmm. This is really delicious.”
He’s watching me closely. “I’m glad you like it. Try the Sljivovica.”
I reach for the elegant, weighted glass, pause for a second, and decide that toasting with a kidnapper is just wrong. I’m not going there. I take a small sip of the thick liquid. Fruity and potent, but quite tasty nonetheless.
“It’s very good.”
“Da.” Yes.
He begins to eat, but only after making certain that I am enjoying my meal. He is so frustrating and complex. I’m drawn to him but know that this whole situation is not right.
He cuts into my thoughts with a question. “What does your name mean?”
I’m taken aback for a second but answer, “Carew is an old Welsh name from my father’s side. I believe that I had a great-great-great aunt who lived in the early nineteenth century named Carew. My mother and father took a shine to the name when they saw it on our family tree. I absolutely hated it as a child. I was mercilessly teased on the playground. You know, the usual ‘Hey cashew, are you related to Mr. Peanut?’ That sort of thing, all day long. Now I’ve grown to like it, I guess.”
He listens intently as I speak. I take another sip of the strong plum brandy and ask him, “How about you? When and how did you pick up the nickname ‘Tigar’?”
His full lips turn up, as if he is recalling a fond memory. “My father enjoyed the sport of boxing. I would watch him train for hours and begged incessantly for him to teach me. When I was eight, he began to take me seriously and put me on a routine alongside him. When I was ten, he let me help him design the downstairs training room. That damn bag must have knocked me on my ass thousands of times, but I never once cried or quit. I trained hard.
“At twelve years of age I had my first match at a regional boxing gym. My opponent was skilled but I laid into him fiercely. I knocked him out in the second round. As I stepped between the ropes, sweaty as hell and relieved not to have humiliated myself or my father, he said to me ‘Way to go, my T
igar.’ He and everyone else began calling me ‘Tigar’ ever since that day.”
I’m curious and want to ask what happened to everyone but hold back, instead saying quietly, “It suits you.”
He dips his head, making a low sound in the back of his throat that I take as agreement.
“So, Carew. How is it that you are skilled in martial arts?”
“And just how do you know I am?”
After taking a long drink of his brandy, he tilts the glass to me. “One of my guards told me that you put Juric into a sleeper hold and choked him out. Also, downstairs last night, I recognized the precision in your kicks. That does not happen randomly. So, are you going to be polite and answer me, princeza?”
I really don’t want to get into it with him right now, especially since I seem to come up against a wall at every turn. “Fine. I’ve studied Aikido for most of my life. Satisfied?”
He gives a short laugh. “You are a lively one, aren’t you?”
“Whatever. When are you going to let me go? It’s either that or wack me off, right? So tell me either way.”
“Demands?”
I take one more sip of the liquor, enjoying the taste along with the confidence that it’s giving me. I place the glass lightly down onto the table. “You don’t get it, do you? You think that I fucked with your job, but you supremely fucked with mine, big guy.”
His arms grow tense and I trudge forward, matching his glacial stare. “That’s right, get mad, because I’m pissed! I have a career that is important to me. Not for the money, but because I basically toiled in the salt mines to obtain my present position. And now, here I sit in some fantasy-fucking-reality with you, all because I have a jacked up wrist! I’ll let you in on a secret, Zoran. If I was one hundred percent, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me,Tigar!” I purposefully sneer the nickname at him.
I watch as he places his fork and knife down slowly, with measured control. But he stands abruptly, the force of his upward momentum knocking his elegant chair backward to clatter on the floor. His imposing height is astonishing.
Damn, damn! What have I done?
“Upstairs.” It comes out as a low growl. Impossible to misinterpret.
“Make me!” I lean forward and spit the words at him.
I quickly slip out from the side of my chair as he lunges for me, missing me by inches. I take off, running blindly. Shit, shit! I can’t go outside. Where, where? I’m in the foyer in seconds.
Whipping my head around, I see that he’s not behind me, which means he is coming around through the living room. Damn! I rush up the flight of stairs, nearly tripping twice on my floor length gown. Once I’m at the top I realize that this was a bad choice because within the vast space there is really only one place to hide: under the high bed. I wiggle under it, the silk of my gown allowing for a smooth glide on my tummy. I lie still and pant like a scared rabbit. Waiting ….
Too soon. In seconds I hear the inevitable footfalls of my captor. They are heavy and steady as he makes his way to me. Why did I even bother to hide? That was just an asinine move, Carew!
His steps become louder. I see his bare feet and jean-clad legs crossing to me. He stops just beside the bed, yet remains eerily silent. I was half-expecting him to command me to come out. Suddenly, in a quick move, he leans down and snatches my right ankle. A scream lodges in my throat as I’m yanked out and flipped over to face him once again. There really is no escape ….
***
“Now is that any way to behave, princeza?”
Before the girl can answer, I scoop her up from the floor and toss her roughly onto my bed. She scrambles back away from me while I reach behind my neck to pull off my polo shirt, followed by my belt, jeans, and boxer briefs.
She can’t hide anything from me. Her fear quickly morphs into longing as her eyes to trail over my nude body. She remains silent as I climb onto the bed, moving toward her. The need to be inside her, pumping deep into her tight pussy, is a craving that I can’t resist any longer. Her arrogant behavior and the fact that she is so brave sends my primal need for her into overdrive.
As I grab her right calf, she gasps in anticipation. She craves the chase just as much as I do. I lean in to nuzzle her pale skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her unbelievably smooth legs. Fuck—she makes me as horny as a teenager. I can think of only one thing—to impale her sweet body on my throbbing dick and ride her until she can’t even think of misbehaving.
I move my eager mouth from one wide-spread thigh to the other. Only a hint of white lace and satin covers the golden curls between her legs. She lets out a light whimper as I slowly draw the scrap of underwear off her hips and down her silky legs.
I lower my weight once more. I drag my tongue across her inner thigh, an inch away from her shiny folds. She arches up, silently begging me for it. I hear her labored breathing as she’s struggles hard not to moan, my sexy little Carew.
Taking my time, drawing it out, I suck and run my tongue along her legs before moving up to her pretty, flat stomach. I make her wet pussy wait, expecting her to be on fire before I go anywhere near that gorgeous cunt of hers. My eyes flick up and her head is craning back, hair tossing back and forth. Excellent.
I draw down the straps of her dress before massaging her pert tits. I’m annoyed by the roughess of my fingertips. I have the callused hands of a fighter, and she deserves better.
“Ungh, yes!” she cries out as she arches her back, eager for more.
Rolling and tweaking her pink nipples until they are at full attention for me, I suckle first one and then the other tight, pink tip. I continue the assault until she begins thrashing about beneath me, so fucking needy, my hot princeza. That’s what I love most about her, that beautiful, unchecked wildness.
I work my way up higher. Well-placed licks and nips on her silky neck are her undoing, and she grinds against my shaft. Her mindless cries tell me she is desperate for release. My mouth hovers an inch above hers as I wait to see what she will do.
Gorgeous, glazed eyes open to meet mine as her small hands reach up to thread through my hair and pull my mouth down onto hers. A soft, husky groan escapes her lips.
Well, fuck me. If this shit isn’t a vision from a wet dream, I don’t know what is.
I force her knees wider apart with my legs, preparing to enter her. I’m having a hard time holding back; her mindless hip-grinding is the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I want to make it good for her. I need her to shatter for me as surely as I need to breathe.
“Please, please Zoran!” Her strained cry is urgent.
My voice is harsh as I stare down at her and say, “All right, baby, here we go.”
I swing my hips back to allow my heavy shaft to come forward, nudging against her slick entrance.
She bucks twice beneath me. “Please, I-I really need you inside me!”
“Mmm, fuck me, princeza. I knew you would be like this, so damn wild for me. Spread wider for me, baby.” Immediately she does as she’s told. “Good girl.”
With a mind of its own, my cock bumps forcefully against her wet, pink pussy. I glance down at and am stunned by how erotic the image is. My veined, straining shaft is about to impale her tiny, delicate slit. Fuck me, the image is so powerful, it will be forever burned into my brain.
Please last … make it good for her, so fucking fantastic that she will forget any other lovers that came before me.
I gradually pump my way into her. It takes four steady pushes into her tight sheath but finally I’m buried to the hilt. I clench my teeth, determined not to come too quickly. Her snug perfection makes me nearly insane with lust.
I stare down into her sparkling eyes and groan, unable to form the words in English. “Kao svila si oko mog kurca.” I want her to know how silky she feels around my cock.
Uncertain if she understood me, I lean in close and run my tongue slowly along her lush bottom lip.
Her melodic voice cuts through our labored breathing. “Tigar, I ache f
or you! I-I can’t wait. Give it to me hard, please. Now!”
Unable to hold back one second longer, I push up on my forearms and start to move in a steady, punishing rhythm. A low moan escapes me as her pussy seems to suck my rigid cock back inside her each time I thrust. She is hanging onto my neck as if it were a lifeline, as if we were the only two people left on the planet.
I need to get her there, and fast, because this feeling is ecstasy on steroids and I’m right on the knife’s edge of losing it. I ramp up my pounding thrusts, marveling at her hunger for me. Fuck, she needs it this way.
I watch her beautiful face, lips parted, gorgeous green eyes slightly out of focus. Unreal. Reaching between us, I use my finger to work her clit. She is moving around so much and is so wet that I only need to hold it against her … right there ….
Five seconds later a primal cry sets my neck hairs on end. “Aghhhh! Tigar! Oh, oh God! Don’t stop!”
Her climax is so intense that I struggle to keep up my pace, to drive her harder for both our pleasure. Her perfect little cunt clenches and pulses around me. I increase my speed, vaguely aware of the rough, animalistic growls starting to emerge from my throat. I am blindsided by the power of my orgasm.
“Ugh, fuck, oh fuck, Carew! Oh shit!”
My brain detonates in ecstasy so great that I can’t conceive of how I ever lived without it. She is flawless and everything I’ve ever sought out in a mate.
I suck in large gulps of air, trying to wrap my head around what just happened, struggling to come back to earth after such a beautiful high.
“Oh my God, I never knew it could be like that.” She’s breathless and panting hard, arms still clutching my sweaty, pulsing neck.
I wonder if she even knows that she said the words out loud.
I heave my body off her as gently as possible. I want her to remain close. I flop onto my back amid the pillows, my hand still resting on her tresses. I enjoy sifting through her golden hair. It’s soothing.
“Princeza.”
She turns to look up at me, her jade eyes sparkling from the orgasm.
“Yes?” It comes out in a soft voice.
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