ENRAPTURED: A Dark Billionaire Romance (The Devil & His Dove Book 2)

by Jax Hart

  But my body doesn’t melt in his embrace. I’m almost as shocked as him. His arms wrap around me, thumbs lazily drawing circles on my tummy. I hold still not fighting, not caring. I’m a doll. Not real, made of plastic, unable to give him the reaction he wants.

  His hands drop. He walks away, snaps his fingers expecting me to follow. “Come. I’m hungry.”

  The old me would make some quick remark, refuse him, hell throw a wrench at his head. But he’s managed to even put out that fire.

  “What? Cat got your tongue, my love?”

  I shrug, “I’m just as empty as you now. Congratulations.”

  He frowns, hands fisted in his slacks as he stares at me. “Come.” This time he takes out a hand and offers it to me. I don’t take it but hang my head and walk forward.

  He waits for me to pass him then puts a hand at the small of my back as we walk back to the main house. “What have you been doing while I’ve been away?”

  I don’t answer.

  I hear his slow hiss at my insolence. But I can’t even care to be afraid. “What game is this, eh, little one?” He jerks me against the wall, caging me in, using his hand to force my chin up.

  “Only you play games. What did you expect? I have nothing left to live for. You’ve taken everything from me.”

  “Is that what you think? I’ve only shown you an inch of what I’m capable of. But if you don’t believe it…maybe it’s time to show you just how dark I can be.” He grips my chin as his punishing lips descend on mine. He expects his kiss to be the gasoline that starts our fire. But it’s not. Not this time. I’ve slipped from him while held tightly in his grasp. My mind has my body completely on lock down; immune to his touch.

  “Dimitri called here when you were gone. Mrs. Fitz was upstairs. I know the lines can’t go out but can take incoming calls. He told me everything. He tried to save me from you…”

  “Did he? Did he tell you everything? Don’t fool yourself. Dimitri is no saint. He’d take what he wants from you, twist you into something else then dump you for your replacement while his seed still leaks from your legs.”

  “How is that worse than you? You did that too, remember?”

  “Fuck this. I’ve had enough! Get on your knees!” He presses me down on the ground. The sound of his fly unzipping loud in the small corridor.

  “She’s sick. She’s in the hospital. For all I know she could be dead!”

  “Who?”

  “Yaya!” I scream. “Dimitri thought I should know. I want to go to Greece. I want to visit to her.”

  “You can’t. You’re dead, remember?” He growls.

  “Then kill me already. Do it for real. At least I’ll be free of you—of this!”

  “Never!” He roars, hauling me back up in his arms, kicking through doors as he carries me upstairs.

  I slap his face hard.

  He slaps mine back.

  He sets me down, hands ripping at each other. “I hate you!”

  “I hate you more,” he pants squeezing my throat. I slap at his hands, but he lowers his head, tugging my nipple into his mouth as he chokes me.

  I stop trying to pry his hands off my throat and start choking him back. We roll on the bed, fighting. Tearing at each other until we crash onto the floor. I land on top of him, wasting no time jerking him free from his pants as he rips what’s left of my shirt off my body. I squeeze him hard in my hands—so hard he hisses at the pain. “Hurt me, agápe. Hurt me. At least I’ll feel something.”

  “Make me. Make me feel too. I’m as dead inside as you are,” I pound a fist against my own chest, “this heart might beat, but it feels nothing. Your disease is contagious. You’ve infected me. So, do it, Christos. Do your worst. Maybe the pain will make me feel alive again.”

  “That I can do.”

  He grabs me by the hips, lifting me up as he stands. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do to you for a long time.” He grabs his phone from the floor and sends a text. Then he picks me up, carrying me out of the room, down the hallway and into an empty bedroom.

  “Holy hell.” I breathe, as he presses a piece of molding and the wall moves, revealing a hidden staircase.

  He carries me up inside one of the turrets that, from the outside, I thought was just a decorative peak, but it’s a hidden solar of sin that make’s Grey’s playroom seem like a daycare.

  “What is this place?”

  “One of my great-great uncles hid his mistress in this tower. It’s where I came when I was a boy to hide. My parents would fight a lot about me, blaming each other for having defective genes. I embarrassed them. As you can imagine, I was hardly popular, didn’t play polo or rugby, or get invited to birthday parties much. How could I make friends?” He shrugs, walking over to a table where leather cuffs attached to chains hang from every corner.

  “This was my secret hide out from the world. I used to have a chalk board that took up the entire wall. I’d solve every mathematical equation I could. Numbers I understand. It was people I never could.”

  “Strip. Get on your knees and crawl to me. Scream as loud as you’d like. I sent Mrs. Fitz to Switzerland. There’s no one here but us.”

  “I might be dead inside. But I’m still not your submissive. I never was…never will be.”

  The glint in his eye has me backing up against the small window. He pulls a very familiar knife from his pocket, opens the blade, and slowly walks towards me.

  “You’re being a bad little girl. So bad,” he breathes turned on by my refusal to submit to him. It’s then the lightbulb goes on. I figured out his game, finally after months and months of unwillingly playing it. He asks me to submit but wants me to fight. The more I fight; the more turned on he gets.

  I drop to my knees immediately, pull my shirt off and unsnap my bra. My head lowers as I wait to see what he’ll do next.

  He uses the tip of the blade to force my chin up. “You forgot your pants, sweeting. Get up.”

  I rise, watching dispassionately as he lowers my leggings. As his body lowers, he stops with his face inches from my core. He inhales deeply, buries his nose between my legs then takes his knife to cut my thong off.

  “Now you may kneel, then crawl.”

  “I still won’t have sex with you,” I mutter with my head bent as my knees scrape across the floor.

  I stop when I reach the tips of his shoes. He always makes me the vulnerable one, making me go naked while he leaves his boardroom clothes on. “Get on the table.”

  My eyes flit to the plain board of wood where the shackles rest. “I-I can’t.” My eyes shut. “Please, Christos. I know you can’t care…don’t have any feelings left anymore…but I swear, my sanity is hanging by a thread. If you take that away…” I swallow hard, “I really will be nothing but a shell.”

  “Get on the table. I won’t ask again.”

  My chin quivers. I won’t do it. I can’t willingly throw my mind off a cliff. “Fine.” He reaches out grabbing me. He picks me up, lays me on the table. My eyes squeeze shut as he positions my arms and feet apart. Tears leak out, my throat burns. How could I ever think this man capable of love?

  The shackles close around my ankles first. Then my wrists. “Theos, you’re beautiful, my dove. Your body brings me such pleasure.” He pets and strokes me, sliding his large hands over my sensitized skin.

  A chime alerts on his phone. He taps his security app, speaking to whoever is at the gates. “I’ll be right down.” Then he turns to me. “Tell me, agápe. Do you like riding Simone?”

  My eyes fly open. He wouldn’t be cruel to an innocent animal, would he?

  “Yes, even the stables have eyes.” He turns from me to unlock the door, and leaves to greet his guest who’s coming for a visit.

  My heart drops as he comes back ten minutes later, followed by a woman. A stunning woman. But as she comes closer, I notice the stud in her tongue and the tattoos covering her forearms. She’s carrying a bag. “Do you have the one I requested.”

  “Ye
s, I hand made it myself.”

  “Let me see it.”

  He holds out a hand and she reaches into her bag, handing him a small black velvet box. “It’s perfect.” He breathes, holding whatever it is under a light.

  I start pulling against the restraints when she carefully opens a case, unrolling tools and sterilizer.

  “What is this? I thought she consented?”

  “I’ll pay you triple.”

  “I’m sorry. I need the money.” The stranger says, without looking me in the eyes.

  “Ahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’” I cry out, pulling against the straps in vain as she spreads my folds pouring cold liquid that stings.

  She pulls on plastic gloves and picks up a needle.

  “WHAT THE FUCK! NO! PLEASE NO!” The chain ropes fixed to the cuffs smack against the table as I try to break free.

  “What are you doing?” I cry as Christos leans over me, pinning my chained arms still.

  “Marking you as mine. If I can’t fuck you—you sure as hell will feel me stroking your clit every time you move.”

  “Hold your legs still or it’ll hurt more.”

  “Fuck you, too!” I spit at them both then scream at the top of my lungs as she pierces me.

  “It’s beautiful.” He breathes, inspecting her work.

  I’m throbbing with pain, still screaming with it. It hurts so badly, I think I might actually pass out.

  “Argh!” I cry as a bag of ice is plopped down on top of my mound.

  “Here take these.” She holds two pills to my mouth with a bottle of water.

  I shake my head. “I’ve taken enough drugs for two lifetimes.”

  “It’s Advil, sweetie.”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself. No sex for a few days. You need to keep that clean or it’ll get infected. I’ll leave you some wipes and a cleaner.”

  “What will happen if I yank it out?”

  “Do you really want to find out agápe?”

  No. No I don’t.

  He unstraps my hands, allowing me to sit.

  Holy fuck.

  He pierced me with a diamond dove.

  “It’s classier than a tattoo, eh?” The bastard smirks, actually proud of the ‘art’ causing me so much pain. But as he unshackles my feet and I move to stand; the natural movement causes it to sing with pleasure and pain. I catch my breath, biting my lip. But it’s too late. He noticed. His deep chuckle floats down the spiral stairs as I flee the solar for my bedroom.

  Sobs rack my body as I huddle under the thick duvet. Wind rattles against the old windows.

  Who knew hell wasn’t an inferno? It’s cold, drafty—often quiet. Leaving you with nothing but the thoughts and memories of who you were before existing in such a place.

  Hell is just existing.

  I cry harder, despite everything…some small part of me still longs for him back. The man he was for a sliver in time. But even I can’t reach that man. He’s been swallowed up by the cruel, dark, cynical man who is determined I’ll never leave his side.

  CHRISTOS

  My hands clench the lowball half full of whiskey. I banished her from my heart, but she’s under my skin. I’m a sick fuck for getting harder than I ever thought possible as she laid spread-eagle screaming as her sweet cunt opened wide with the mark of my possession sparkling from her bud.

  I can’t stop now. Some unseen force propels me forward. Every time she thinks she’s about to break, she takes more.

  It’s admirable.

  She’s remarkable.

  The strongest human spirit I might have ever met. I should’ve never taken things this far. You don’t need feelings to know right from wrong. But every time I push her past a new limit, my heart pumps faster, my body releases endorphins that makes my brain feel high. Screw the drugs, she’s my drug. The adrenalin that runs through me every time we fuck/fight alters my brain in ways those white pills never did.

  And that’s why I can’t let my dove out of her cage. I stole her entire future from her. It disappeared in a wisp of smoke. But stealing hers gave me one. I move off the couch and pick up a few logs from the brass bucket. I toss them in the blaze roaring in the oversized hearth. Sparks fly up the chimney as the logs pop. Turning away from the heat, I pick my phone up from the side table, scrolling to open my security app. I tap the icon for the camera sewn into a piece of velvet in the corner of her canopy bed.

  She’s recklessly sobbing. Crying for her parents, for California…hell anyone but me. My name never once falls from her lips.

  “Fuck!” My hand hurls the glass of whiskey into the fireplace. It explodes as it hits the back of the brick wall. The blaze billows out of the fireplace before pulling back in. Shards of broken glass sparkle like diamonds in the flame.

  I overplayed my hand. I came about this all wrong. I wanted to punish her for betraying my trust, for making my dead heart crave love. But all I’m doing is punishing myself by making sure that the one thing I want, never wants me back.

  I played the wrong game with her.

  I should’ve been researching how to make a woman fall in love. If I had—that would have been the sweetest revenge. Making her love me, trapping her with it. But even a soulless creature like myself realizes it’s too late for that. She could never love me now. I’ve gone way too far to ever hope for that.

  I’VE STAYED IN BED for days losing track of time. Mrs. Fitz comes in making sure I stay clean. I’m numb as she cleans me as methodical as I imagine one would change a diaper. I’d yank the piercing out—but I can’t even bring myself to touch it. He came last night. But I didn’t even feign sleep as he stripped, letting his hard, heavyand leaking tip nudge between my cheeks. He didn’t take me. I laid still. Indifferent to his hands and lips as he tried to use the only thing he has to try to reach me.

  The tip of him hit my diamond dove. It hurt. Then fireworks blasted through me as he reached around lightly flicking the stud with a finger. But I turned my head into the pillow refusing to let it be anything than it is: a forced physical response.

  He gave up.

  Frustrated, he slammed the door.

  And I silently cried.

  Every touch, every kiss, is a sharp cut.

  But I'm not who I was.

  I'm a broken doll.

  A shell.

  And it's even in his dark eyes...the knowledge that I might not be his muse anymore.

  And that hurts more than everything he has done to me.

  Unable to sleep, I throw off the covers walking to the closet. I pull on a heavy pair of wool socks that I stole from the laundry in the barn. I hiss as I zip up my jeans. The damn clit piercing is a burst of painful pleasure every time I move. The seam of my jeans rubs against it. I want to melt to the floor and make myself come. But I don’t. Instead, I pull on a thick cable-knit sweater, my barn boots and slip from the room.

  It’s late. No one’s around to see me pass through the shadows as I slink down the back stairs and outside. I jog to the barn. Grab Simone’s bridle and saddle. I haven’t ridden since he came back. He steals happiness wherever I find it and it’s about time I take some back.

  She knickers softly as I enter her stall. I place everything on her just as Will showed me, then lead her to out of the barn, place a foot in the stirrup and swing myself up into the saddle. I swing her around toward the open fields. Crouching low against her neck, I whisper, “Run! Set us both free tonight!” I dig my heels in, grab her mane as she lets her legs fly.

  But every smooth stride of her gallop, sends tingles from my clit, up my spine and back down to the walls of my womb.

  Him and that fucking dove piercing. He knew. He knew how much I loved learning to ride and made sure I wouldn’t forget his sweet torment as I do it.

  I bit my lip hard, tasting my own blood as I fight the climax tearing threw me. My cry is swallowed by the wind as Simone races against the night.

  Somehow the night closes in. The air gets heavier. A light rain starts to fall. My ha
nds turn white as I hold her mane to keep myself balanced. Lightening streaks across the sky, I cry as thunder cracks and Simone veers off course heading for the tree line. I bend lower over her back as branches hit my body. The frightened horse keeps going. I’m not a strong enough rider to stop her. All I can do cling to her back. My arms circle her neck in an effort to stay on. She takes me deeper inside the maze of trees, jumping fallen logs, her strong hooves splashing through rocky streams. Lightning strikes a tree nearby and this time even my best efforts to stay seated can’t fight gravity as Simone hits the breaks. I fly over her head, my head hits something hard as I tumble down into a small ravine landing in a cold stream.

  Rain pours over me. She knickers from somewhere nearby. Apologizing. Every part of my body screams in pain. I’m afraid to move. I gave a good fight. I tried. But in the end maybe this is how I finally get free.

  I fade in and out. But I’ve been here before; trapped between planes of consciousness, unsure what is reality and what is part of a half-lucid dream. I must’ve hit my head pretty damn hard. Through the mist and heavy fog, a heavily coated pony walks through the creek. His hot breath lands against my cheek as he neighs, nudging me. Answering neighs are nearby, more splashing hoofs over rocks has me trying to turn my head. But the sharp pain that shoots through me stops me from moving further. I gasp as more wild ponies come closer. They surround me in a circle keeping me warm. And then I realize they’re protecting me as the sound of howling wolves sound in the distance.

  “Thank you, my friends.” I reach out trying to pet the dark one who won’t leave my side. My legs are numb, no doubt from frostbite. I should try to get out of this creek, but I can’t move. Rain continues to fall steadily. I can’t fight the pain radiating through me. My head pounds as I lose the battle falling back into the darkness. The only thought that gives me peace is knowing my parents already grieved. The world already thinks Jessie Montgomery is gone. But what they’ll never know is she was gone many months ago… she was lost the minute the dark man landing the helicopter locked eyes with her.