Greed (A Sinful Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Eva Charles

  “I won’t win,” she says softly, defeat in her voice. “You have cameras to track my movements.”

  “Every camera, every microphone in this room, is off right now, and it will stay that way. I’ll set the timer on my phone. What have you got to lose?”

  Daniela gnaws gently on the inside of her cheek.

  She’s thinking about it.

  “What about making an example of me?”

  Oh, I’ll still make an example of you. There’s no chance I won’t find you before the timer goes off. I’m greedy for you. Drawn to you in ways that are inexplicable. You can’t hide from me, Princesa.

  “This is my city, my valley, and I make the rules. If I want to give you an opportunity to work off your punishment, I will. What I won’t do is let you off the hook for nothing.”

  She tips her head to the side, studying me carefully. “Isn’t a game of hide-and-seek letting me off the hook?”

  I feel the edge of my mouth curl. This is not a child’s game, and she’s going to feel the pressure as soon as the timer starts.

  “When the stakes are high, it never feels like a simple game.” I shrug. “It’s up to you. I’m prepared to go forward with the punishment.”

  She lifts her head, and her eyes flare.

  She’s going to do it.

  “Fine,” she says with a ring of defiance in her voice. “But you better not cheat.”

  I don’t need to cheat. “I give you my word.”

  I use my phone to turn out the main lights. The walkways are illuminated by strips of lighting on the floor. It’s dark, but not pitch black. Although the casks stacked on the aisles make it difficult to see anywhere but directly in front of you.

  “I’m going to set the timer on my phone for twenty minutes. I’ll start searching for you after five minutes—until then, I’ll remain right here.”

  “You won’t cheat?” she asks again.

  “I already gave you my word.”

  She nods.

  I hold up the phone so she can see me press the start button, and then watch her disappear.

  As I listen for the rustle of clothing or a misstep, I imagine her raspy breath as she slinks through the dark. Is her skin damp yet? Her heart thumping? Is the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins? My cock thickens with every salacious thought.

  She’s light on her feet—that’s to her advantage.

  I’m enjoying this little game more than I should be. Not hide-and-go-seek, but hunter-and-prey. The hunter has all the advantages—although he doesn’t always win. But in this case, it’s inevitable.

  Even before I worked here, I played in this cave as a young child. I know it intimately. Every corner, every hiding place, all the passageways that lead to dead ends. I could give her a fifteen-minute head start and still find her.

  I slip off my shoes while I wait for the time to pass. And I listen. I synchronize my watch to the timer. And I listen.

  I hear her turn left at the end of the center aisle. Right would have given her a better chance.

  My pulse begins to race as I wait for the chase to begin.

  When the five minutes are up, I proceed stealthily, pursuing her one step at a time, my bare feet silent on the stone floor.

  I don’t follow her path. That’s what she expects. Instead, I advance toward her, staying some distance away. And I listen.

  There’s a telling squeak, and a scrape. She’s wedged herself between two casks. I would wager my last dollar on it. Oh Princesa, you’re trapped, and I’m coming for you.

  My heart is hammering. My dick is aching for her tight little cunt. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  I step heavily onto the stone floor. I want her to know I’m searching for her—that I’m not too close, but not too far away either. I want her rattled. I want the pulse in her neck thrumming strong.

  If I close my eyes, I can almost smell her fear. Almost taste the salt on her skin.

  When only a row of casks separate us, I check my watch. Three minutes. I won’t risk taking it down to the last seconds, in case she runs. I’ll want a minute to chase her.

  I hope she runs. God, I want to end this hunt with a run.

  With a minute left, I slither around the corner and grab her shoulders from behind.

  She screams. It’s the shaky scream of someone caught by surprise. Her pulse is pounding, and I feel the surrender in the slump of her shoulders.

  The timer echoes in the cave.

  “I captured you,” I murmur near her ear. “You’re mine.”

  She whimpers, and it takes everything I have not to fuck her on the cold floor.

  With the lights off, I drag her into the aisle, snake my fingers into her silky hair, and claim her mouth. She doesn’t fight me.

  Her surrender is glorious.

  I brush the hair off her flushed, damp skin. “You’re beautiful, and there are so many other things I’d rather do to you than punish you.”

  “Please, just get it over with,” she pants.

  I turn the timer off and slide the phone into my pocket.

  It’s quiet now. The only sound is her labored breath.

  I take her by the hand, threading my fingers through hers, and lead her to a barrel deep in the cave. A barrel that’s the perfect height, where her toes will dangle just above the floor.

  55

  Antonio

  When we’re deep in the cave, beside the wooden cask that holds my prized Port, I pull out my knife and slice through her shirt, exposing her luscious tits. The tips are beaded tight, and it takes everything I have not to lower my head and suck one into my hungry mouth. But if I do, we’ll never get the punishment behind us, because I won’t be able to stop with just a small taste.

  “Lie over the barrel,” I murmur into her hair. “With your gorgeous ass in the air.”

  She shudders but doesn’t hesitate.

  Her rank obedience feeds my need for control, striking a chord deep in my soul. It both soothes and energizes me in ways that I can’t begin to quantify.

  There’s only a small whimper as I yank off her pants and rub my hand over her smooth skin. “So soft. Flawless. But it won’t be like that when I’m through.”

  She whimpers again, soft and throaty. My cock burns for her.

  Without taking a hand off her sexy little body, I text Cristiano that the punishment is about to begin.

  I slowly remove my belt.

  Restraining the pent-up need, I glide the thick leather across her skin, tapping lightly, coaxing the nerve endings closer to the surface.

  She mewls as the soft cowhide trails up and down her back and thighs. The mewls get louder when the strap pauses for a small bite of her flesh. Just a nibble to prime her for the feast. My feast.

  “I’m going to enjoy turning your skin red. Do you know how hard my cock is just imagining the gorgeous welts?”

  Her breathing is shallow and quick as I step between her legs, nudging them apart. My fingertips trace her spine, trailing lower and lower into the hollow of her lower back and over her fine ass.

  She’s quiet as I explore her body, trembling when my fingers find a sensitive spot. My thumb glides down her crack, stopping to press on the tempting rosebud.

  Every muscle in her body contracts. I smile.

  “Not today,” I murmur, my hand slipping between her legs.

  She’s aroused, soaking wet, and her clit is hard and swollen when I run my fingers over it. I could stroke her all night. First with my fingers, then with my tongue. “You like this, don’t you? My fingers on your pussy?”

  When she doesn’t answer, I take away my hand and sink my teeth into her ass. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to mark her.

  She yelps, pressing her pelvis into the barrel, grinding her pussy on the smooth wood.

  I almost toss the belt aside and slide into her, pounding that mound against the barrel until she screams.

  My hand is shaking as I force myself to step back. Before I change
my mind about the punishment, I fold the belt in half and let it fly over her bare skin.

  When the leather strikes her ass, a tortured scream echoes through the dimly lit cave, and a sense of satisfaction rushes through me. It’s the retribution I’ve craved since the moment I learned she was headed for the docks.

  My belt sails again. Whack. She cries out. The scream is muffled now, but it’s heady, nonetheless.

  I picture the captain’s hands on her and let the leather fly again. I want to do it again, and again. But it’s feeling too much like a drug. Too much like a punishment dealt from an undisciplined hand. Too much like vengeance.

  I’m a second away from surrendering to the thirst for revenge, and I no longer trust myself with the belt in my hands.

  I toss it aside and draw a clean breath, letting my fingertips graze her red, welted skin.

  She clutches the barrel and groans with the contact. But I show her no mercy as my hand comes down on her. I can’t.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  My palm stings from the impact—it feels safe, grounding me and reminding me that this vulnerable woman is under my protection. The belt provided too much distance. It made it too easy to spin out of control.

  I rub her bruised skin and slide my fingers between her legs, over the slick flesh. She moans softly. Her mewls curl into my consciousness, driving me forward to an end.

  With one hand stroking her pussy, I bring the other onto the raw skin. Hard.

  She screams. It’s a tortured cry, but she presses her pussy into my hand for the pleasure she needs to drown the pain. And I give it to her. I swirl my fingers around her clit until she begs for more.

  I spank her again, and again, sliding two fingers into her tight little cunt. She moans, loud and sultry, humping my hand, and when I pull it away, she humps the barrel.

  Jesus, fuck.

  While she grinds into the smooth wooden cask, I almost come in my pants like a schoolboy.

  Her face is flushed and sweaty. She’s panting loudly. Struggling to finish. She’s close. So close.

  I grab my phone and call Cristiano. “Get everyone the hell away from here. Now,” I bark, tossing the phone aside.

  I lift her up and off the barrel. Cradling her head while capturing her mouth with mine until I can’t breathe.

  “I want you to straddle the barrel,” I murmur, helping her astride.

  Her eyes are glazed, and she doesn’t fight me. If I were a good man, I would stop this right now. But I’m not, and I don’t.

  “Spread your legs nice and wide. That’s it, ride it like you would ride me,” I instruct when she’s safely astride, her palms clutching the edges.

  She looks up at me as if uncertain.

  I smooth back her hair. “Trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. The punishment is over.”

  She pauses, then nods. I stroke my cock through my pants as she grips the side of the barrel and lists forward, canting her hips back and forth.

  “My prized Port is in this barrel. The one I gave you to taste. Rub that pussy all over it. Make that wine sweeter than it already is.”

  She rides with abandon. Jaw slack. Eyes dilated and shining. Head tipped back. I can’t take my eyes off her. But watching isn’t enough. I need to touch her.

  Without wasting one more goddamn second, I pull off my pants and straddle the barrel behind her, my feet firmly on the floor.

  “I’m right here,” I whisper into her hair. “Move any way you’d like. I won’t let you fall. Do whatever feels good.”

  “Mmmm.”

  It’s all she says as she rubs her ass against my hard cock.

  My thighs are grazing hers, not enough to hinder her movement but enough to stabilize her so she doesn’t fall.

  I roam her body while she rides. My fingers find her nipples. I stroke and pinch the hard little points.

  “Ahhh,” she gasps, gliding over the barrel. “Antonio,” she whimpers.

  My dick gets harder and longer when my name tumbles from those plump lips.

  I wrap her hair around my hand and tug her head back to see her face.

  “You’re beautiful. So beautiful, Princesa. Are you going to come for me?”

  She purrs, inching forward and rubbing her pussy against the smooth cork stopper. I’m not even sure she’s aware she’s doing it.

  My dick is weeping. I can’t wait a second longer.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” I murmur, holding her hips. “My cock is throbbing for you. I want to feel your pussy around it. I need you to milk it real good. Will you do that?”

  Her head bobs up and down. “Yes,” she says in a loud, clear voice. “Yes. Now,” she gasps. “I need you inside me, please.”

  A part of me knows I should wait. Knows that this is the pent-up anxiety, desperate to uncoil. A clawing need to be pushed over the edge. The yearning to feel alive. She needs it. She wants it. In the way a junkie craves a fix. I need it too.

  I won’t deny her.

  I won’t deny myself.

  I gently push her shoulders forward and grasp her hips, lifting them until my cock is notched at her entrance. She tries to squirm onto the fat head, but I don’t let her take control.

  “You take what I give you,” I whisper into the thick air while I slide balls-deep into her.

  Daniela groans, and a grunt escapes from my chest. She moans, wiggling into me. Her pussy is hot and tight.

  I’m not going to last. I’ve wanted this too much, for too long.

  I reach around her, using one hand to steady us both, and stroke her clit, pressing into the swollen flesh while she whimpers my name. I don’t let up until I feel her body tighten, and then I pinch the bud until she bucks, caught between my hand and my cock.

  She begs and pleads—and calls God’s name and mine as the orgasm rips through her.

  I sink my teeth into her neck and own her pussy until I’m empty.

  When I can move again, I lean over and drop a small kiss on her shoulder—on the spot where my teeth marked her. She’s limp as a rag doll, her body folded over the cask.

  “Hold on tight, Daniela. Don’t let go of the barrel.”

  I throw on my pants and pull my shirt over her head so that she’s not naked when we leave here.

  She hasn’t moved a muscle.

  “Are you okay?” I ask gently.

  She nods. “Mm-hmm.”

  Running a soothing hand over her back, I call the villa. Cristiano answers immediately. “Shut down all surveillance between here and my apartment. Everything. Give me fifteen minutes, and then turn it all back on.”

  She begins to lilt to one side. I tuck the phone into the crook of my neck and lift her off the barrel.

  “Everything okay?” Cristiano asks.

  I look down at the sleepy woman in my arms. “Yeah,” I say softly.

  A part of me actually believes that everything just might be okay.

  56

  Daniela

  The sound of Antonio’s stern voice wakes me.

  “Daniela D’Sousa is in my bed. And if you like your job here, my mother will not hear a word about it unless it’s from my mouth.”

  Where am I? My eyes scan the dark room for something familiar, but there’s nothing. The sheets are crumpled beside me. I didn’t sleep alone.

  “Maria Rosa’s daughter?” a woman asks, as if it can’t possibly be true.

  “Alma, don’t test me. I am not playing.”

  Alma. Oh God. She knows I’m here, in Antonio’s bed. I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to remember everything that happened last night—trying to remember anything that happened.

  A sliver of light shines on the ceiling as the door creaks. Antonio turns on a lamp in the corner and shuts the door.

  Although the room isn’t bright, I blink several times, adjusting to the light.

  “Good morning,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. His features are relaxed, his expression almost gentle.
Something I’ve rarely seen in him.

  I’m still confused about where we are and how I got here. More than just a little confused. It’s unsettling.

  “Good morning. Where are we?”

  “My apartment at Huntsman Lodge.”

  I nod, trying to remember how I got here.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “A little achy. But otherwise okay.”

  “That’s from being in bed for so long.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven thirty.”

  He’s dressed in a suit, like he might be going to work.

  “How long was I asleep?” I ask, somewhat guarded. The memory lapse is making me uneasy.

  “About forty-eight hours.”

  “What?” I gasp, sitting up. “There are huge gaps in my memory. Was I drugged?”

  “Absolutely not. Tell me the last thing you remember.”

  I sift through my memory, trying to piece the fragments together. I got in the truck. I remember the market and the pier. And a ship, and then Antonio coming into a room where I was shackled to a wall. He was so angry.

  I examine his face for clues, but there are none. Although the wrinkles on his forehead grow deeper with my silence.

  “I remember you being angry. Furious, as you dragged me off the ship. And I remember the shower, and everything else is fuzzy.” I touch a small round bandage in the crook of my arm.

  “The doctor was here yesterday.”

  “A doctor?”

  “I couldn’t get you to stay awake long enough to take fluids. I was concerned that you were dehydrated. The doctor gave you an IV and did a little blood work.”

  I remember the IV going in. A prick. I also remember the doctor saying he wouldn’t advise any more punishment. “Mind your own goddamn business,” Antonio replied.

  Punishment.

  “It’s not that I have no memory—not exactly. It’s that things are choppy and hazy. Just bits and pieces. I’m not sure what parts I dreamed and which are real.”

  “Give yourself a little time. Eventually you’ll remember everything.”

  “You punished me?” I ask as I remember the bite of the belt on my skin.