She stared at him wildly, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. “No,” she gasped at length.
“Good girl,” he replied with a laugh. “So, tell me. Show me that you were paying attention. What was rule one?”
Molly writhed further, feeling the heat rising to her face as the admission sprung from her lips. “I am going to obey you,” she mumbled, as though she couldn’t believe she’d actually said it.
Connor’s smile widened. “What was that?” he asked. “I could barely hear you, Molly. What are you going to do?”
She swallowed down the humiliation of having to repeat herself. Whoever this Connor was, he held all of the cards for the time being. “Obey you,” she said, trying to make her voice louder.
There was a long moment of silence, as though he wanted her words to hang in the air around them.
“Exactly,” he answered her at last. “And because you are going to obey me, you’re not going to need to query every instruction you’re given. Is that clear?”
Something about his tone made her pant, and in that moment, Molly understood something. It wasn’t just the coercion of the situation – the terror and the uncertainty – which produced the response. It wasn’t just fear. There was something else happening inside of her. There was arousal. She felt the color at her face deepen as the realization settled in her mind. This was the most intense and petrifying experience of her life. How on earth could any part of her find this exciting?
She gazed into his hard expression, realizing all of a sudden, that he was still waiting for an answer. “Yes,” she murmured, trying to quell the feelings rising inside of her. “Yes, it’s clear.”
“Excellent,” he said, rising to a standing position again. “So, Molly, you are going to write. It’s something you do anyhow, most days I presume, so it really shouldn’t be a problem.” He stared down at her bound and vulnerable form, his eyes flickering with some unspoken emotion.
Molly wanted to argue. She wanted to question his logic. Yes, she did write every day, but why the hell should she be writing for him? Who the hell did he think he was? One look at his dark gaze told her this was not the right time to press the point. His expression was powerful, and almost taunting, as though he was daring her to defy him. The look of it made her stomach shrink with fear, no matter how much the bondage excited her. If she wanted to get free, then she’d have to play along with his little game. For now, at least.
“What do you want me to write?” she asked, her tone raspy.
He smiled, the look of it predatory. “We’ll get to that,” he answered. “For now, that’s all you need to remember, just two rules. Obey me without question, and when you’re told, write for me. Do you think you can do that, Molly?”
She blinked up at him aware of her eyes widening at the weight of his expectations. “Yes,” she whispered.
Connor nodded his head, shifting his weight slightly to look down the length of her. She drew in a shaky breath at his quiet appraisal.
“Okay then,” he said, after the longest time. “You stay put, and I’ll get you that water.”
Chapter Six
She drank the first glass of water greedily, but only after he helped her sit, and fixed the ropes at her wrists. Connor knew she’d need to move to ease her circulation, so, after a strict reminder of the rules, he unfastened the binds. She eyed her skin for abrasions. The ropes had cut into her pale flesh, leaving their tell-tale signatures, but Connor was pleased to see there was no real damage. He watched her like a hawk as her gaze rose to meet his again.
“Must you bind me again?” She sighed, her voice throaty, as though a well of emotion was on the verge of drowning her.
“Yes, Molly,” he asserted, wrapping fresh rope around her wrists again. This time he bound them in front of her, and he left some slack in the bondage, so her hands could be separated by a few inches. “The ropes are necessary for now. We’ll need time to build trust together, but right now, you don’t trust me, and I don’t trust you either. Plus, anyway, I know you like them…”
Her breath hitched, her eyes darting to him reflexively. Her gaze was questioning, did you really just say that?
Connor grinned at her response. “Yes, Molly,” he answered, even though no words had actually left her lips. “I’ve read your books, remember? I have a pretty good idea of how you get your kicks, young lady.”
Her expression altered, a visage of disgust settling over her which he didn’t like one iota. He imagined what she was thinking as the final knots were secured at her wrists. That he had no right to do this, no right to take her, to keep her, no right to bind her. But she was wrong on all counts, she just didn’t know it yet. Connor had every right. He was her biggest fan, and had been following her career for years, but it was more than that. He’d studied her, watched her, researched her. He knew her. Knew her habits, her routines, her nature. Perhaps he knew her better than she knew herself.
By the time he caught her eye again, her expression had softened, and the anger which had risen in him began to evaporate.
“Here,” he said softly, “drink this.” He shifted to the second glass on the dresser beside the bed, placing it into her right hand.
She took it gladly at first, evidently her thirst had become a big driver, but then, as she raised the glass to her lips, he saw the flicker of doubt. She hesitated, drawing the vessel away again. “What is it?”
He wanted to smile, but somehow, he suppressed the urge. Molly was smart. “Just water, like before,” he replied, his tone deliberately reassuring. “Now, remember rule one? Drink please.”
She drew in a large breath, eyeing the contents of the glass warily. Ultimately, he wasn’t sure if it was her dry throat, or the fear of ramifications which forced her on, but she pressed it to her full lips and took a sip. He watched, almost proud, as she drained the entire contents in just a few seconds, raising her eyes to look at him once she was done.
The swell of arousal which washed over him at that moment took him by surprise. He had planned every moment of this adventure, and had fully anticipated being horny around her, but this was something else. If just the look of her drinking was going to make him hard, then this was going to be more difficult – and enjoyable - than he’d first imagined.
Connor swooped, taking the glass from her as he continued to watch her responses. “Another glass?” he asked, pleasantly.
He’d only brought two with him, but apparently his new guest really was thirsty.
She nodded her head slowly. “Yes, please.”
“No problem,” he replied, “but first, you’ll have to do something for me, Molly.”
That got her attention. “Wh-what?” she stuttered, her nerves about the situation more than clear from her voice alone.
“It’s okay,” he chuckled. She was so small, so fragile and so bound. Like a frightened animal. She was his. “It’s nothing terrible. I just want you to show me a little more respect.”
Her body tensed at the suggestion. “How?”
He placed the glass back on the dresser, approaching her again. Damn, he was so hard that he’d need to resolve his own tensions before he’d be able to concentrate this afternoon. Connor was a good-looking guy, and he knew it. He’d never had a problem attracting women, and there had been plenty. Only one had ever meant anything, and even she had nothing on Molly. None of them were as good as her.
“I just need you to call me Sir when you answer me.” He paused, allowing the words to reverberate. The look on her pretty face was priceless. “Do you think you can do that, Molly?”
She blinked up at him, a look of fear and indignation etched into her beautiful features. “I…” She hesitated, uncertain. “I don’t do that stuff in real life,” she conceded after a moment.
He laughed, the sound deep and dark as it echoed around the small room he’d chosen for her. Slowly, he lifted his right hand to her face, stroking her pale skin before his digits dipped to her chin. “Well, Molly,” he beg
an. “It looks as though you do now, doesn’t it?” He applied just enough pressure to the underside of her chin, so that her eyes were forced to meet his. He watched, mesmerized as she answered him.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Yes, Sir.”
Chapter Seven
It was a matter of survival. This guy had her bound and captured, and she didn’t even know where the hell she was. Either she’d have to do as he asked, or she’d anger him, and she didn’t want to think about what he might do then.
Molly answered him in little more than a whisper, but the finger at her chin ensured she didn’t miss his expression. He was pleased as she submitted to his will. He enjoyed it. She resisted the urge to shudder, pushing down the small voice in her head which reminded her that she might actually have enjoyed it, too.
The grip at her chin softened, his digits caressing the underside of her face.
“Very good,” he purred in a gleeful tone.
Molly couldn’t decide how she felt about that. She knew she should be riled, irritated, disgusted even, and yet she was so tense she could barely process those emotions.
“I’ll fetch you the water now,” he went on. “Be a good girl and stay here.”
Connor was gone before she could think to reply, having swiped the glasses from their place on the dresser and stalked from the room. He closed the door behind him, and for a while she just stared after him, her mind blank. And then the whole thing hit her like a ton of bricks. The son of a bitch had taken her, and now he had her. She had to escape, yet her mind was still cloudy and her limbs so heavy, perhaps the lasting effects of the chloroform he’d kindly made her inhale.
She twisted to look out of the small window. There were old shabby net curtains in place, obscuring most of her view to the outside world, yet shards of silvery light washed into the room. Where the hell was she? She strained her mind trying to think. Had he given her any clues about where he’d taken her? She couldn’t recall, but all at once his full name came back to her – he was Connor, Connor Reilly. She’d met him at the end of the signing, just before she’d been ambushed by the gang of youths, when she’d been looking for her rental. Had he planned all that, she wondered? Had the whole thing been a set up?
Wrists bound, she wriggled across the bed, gaining traction with her tied ankles. She made it to the grubby looking window sill, resting on her elbows as she knelt up to try and access the view. It was harder work than she’d imagined it to be, moving without the assistance of all of her limbs, but by the time she’d made it, she was squirming for a different reason. Being bound made her horny, just like always. Even in this, the most dangerous situation of her life, her body was betraying her. The shoots of arousal made her head swim, almost as much as the chloroform.
Sighing, she tried to shift the bottom of the net curtain out of her view. She could only manage to hold it a few inches over the sill, before her arms began to tremble with the exertion, and she wondered just how much of the drug she’d inhaled. Her eyes squinted as they acclimatised to the new perspective. The glass, it seemed, was as filthy as the curtains, and it was difficult to make out much of anything. Molly pushed her raised fists against it, scrubbing a small patch to clean it. Straining to look through the small area, she was perturbed to realize that all she could see was miles and miles of countryside.
“Not planning on jumping, are you?”
The sound of his voice startled her. Molly hadn’t heard him coming back to the room, and she spun to face him, losing her balance and landing awkwardly against her left shoulder. Connor laughed at the display, his arrogance evident as he placed the water back down on the dresser. The amused look on his face made the old indignation within her rise to the surface, and she knew she was scowling as she struggled to get herself upright again.
“Molly?” he asked, drawing his hands to his hips.
Her eyes assessed him, and she wondered what he saw in them? Fear, perhaps? Anger? Maybe something else?
“I asked you a question,” he continued, his tone lowering.
Molly swallowed hard, her emotions threatening to spiral out of control completely. “I…” She closed her mouth, unsure what to actually say. She hadn’t been thinking of jumping, but now that he mentioned it, she couldn’t remember why she hadn’t thought of it herself.
Connor took one long stride and pointed to the bed. “Sit,” he commanded, as though she was some sort of dog.
She inhaled quickly, fighting both the urge to tell him to go and fuck himself, and the one which made her pussy wet, in equal measure. She eyed him fearfully, deciding that for the time being at least, there really was little choice but to obey as he’d asked. Moving on unsteady legs, she fell back to her bottom.
He stared down at her, and as she lifted her chin, she couldn’t believe how tall he seemed, towering over her like some mythical man. “I’m waiting for your answer,” he reminded her in a curt, unamused tone.
She straightened up as the weight of his intense gaze fell over her. “I wasn’t going to jump,” she answered. “I swear, I wasn’t even thinking about it.”
This was the truth at least.
“Really?” he inquired, apparently unimpressed by her response. “And how did I ask you to address me, Molly?” His dark brow arched as he questioned her, and the sight of it made her pussy clench reflexively.
“Sir.” The word flew from her lips as though it was the most natural thing to say in the whole world. “You asked me to call you Sir.”
He smiled, evidently proud, but the expression hardened almost at once. “So, why did you not use my title?”
She squirmed in her place. “I’m sorry,” she replied, feeling absurdly flustered by the admission. The logical part of her brain, apparently still subdued by the toxins coursing through her system, knew she had no reason to be ashamed. Connor was the asshole here. He was the one who had taken her. He was the perpetrator.
But then, what did that make her? Her squirming stilled as the answer came to her.
It made her the victim.
Connor crouched down in front of her, so that their eyes were virtually on the same level. “Okay, little girl,” he said in an annoyingly condescending tone. “How about this? I’ll forgive you this time, but the next time you forget to address me the correct way, there will be consequences.”
Molly drew in a shaky breath. “Co-consequences?” she stammered, overawed by his authoritative approach.
“Yes.” He smiled, apparently all too aware of how he made her feel. Bastard. “Nothing too severe to begin. Just enough to make you remember…”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. She hated the way she was behaving. Why couldn’t she get her act together and come up with a plan to get away from this sick fuck?
“So, let’s put it this way,” he continued. “Address me properly, or you’ll find yourself stripped and over my knee for a bare-arse spanking. And believe me, pretty, I can be heavy-handed when I’m irritated.”
She gulped at that. It was a physical response, and she guessed he saw it. Spanking. Had he just threatened her with a spanking? For fuck’s sake, this was getting out of hand. This complete stranger was now intimidating her with the notion of violence. Her head spun at the idea, and yet even now, at this most terrifying juncture, her clit throbbed impatiently inside her pants. He’d threatened her with a spanking! How long had it been since she’d been taken in hand?
Too long, the tiny voice in her head reminded her.
“Am I making myself clear, Molly?”
The sound of his voice snapped her back to reality. Not arousing, she reminded herself. This is not arousing. This is abduction…
“Yes, Sir,” she answered, forcing the words out before her brain could make her falter.
He rose to stand over her, moving back to the dresser and collecting the glass once again. Turning, he walked back to her, presenting her with the water. “Here’s your reward,” he said, smugly.
Molly bit her lip, ignoring his tone as she
took the glass from him. She drained the contents in less than a minute. “Thank you… Sir,” she replied, hating the gratitude in her voice. Yet there was no doubt about it. The water was clearing her head, and for that at least, she was grateful.
Chapter Eight
Even washed out and dehydrated she looked better than almost anyone he’d ever met. He eyed her as she drained the glass again, her gaze returning to his as she awaited his verdict.
“Thank you, Sir…” She murmured, her voice full of uncertainty as she forced the final word out.
Connor smiled, inhaling deeply as his cock strained beneath his pants. “You’re welcome,” he replied, moving toward her and taking the glass from her small palms.
He returned it to the dresser, before coming back in her direction. “When you’re a good girl, and obey my rules, then you will be rewarded,” he told her.
Molly’s eyes widened into saucers, and he noticed how she intentionally rested her bound wrists against her legs to stop her hands from trembling.
“I’m sure you can work it out, Molly,” he continued. “You’ve been writing these plots longer than me.”
His tone was sardonic, and he knew his right brow was arching as she raised her head to meet his eye.
“I…” She hesitated, as though the words were stuck in her throat. Connor suppressed the urge to smile as he imagined what else he could use her sweet little mouth for. “I never thought I’d be living in one of them… Sir.”
Her gaze fell to her knees as though the embarrassment of telling him out loud had made it impossible to meet his eye.
Connor stared at her for a long moment, allowing her time to adjust to the reality. This was just like one of her bestsellers, and Molly was right – she was now the heroine.
“I think,” he began, edging his large shoes closer to where she sat. “If you give it some time, you might find you enjoy the plot.”
Taken: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 1) Page 3