His Captive, The Unabridged Collection: Billionaire Dark Romance

by Watson, Meg

  And he was relentless. I don’t even know if he saw much of Jennie, his cheerleader girlfriend, for those months. I don’t see how he could have, he spent so much time with me. He'd slip through my window at night and fuck me savagely. He wasn't gentle in any sense. He wildly pounded up into me, holding a hand over my mouth as if he was taking me by force. I think that's what he liked about it—I always struggled and thrashed like I didn't want it. We both knew what was going on, but it didn't make it any less hot.

  It was exhilarating, knowing that I was his little secret. By day, we passed each other in the hallways with our eyes averted. He seemed to want nothing to do with me. I didn't care. I had him at night. I had all of him.

  Of course, I eventually let it slip. I was young and stupid, and I had to brag to someone. I told my chem lab partner in a note, which she handed over to Jennie’s cheer captain, who couldn’t wait to spill it.

  Jennie was beyond pissed. She pinned us both in the hallway, enraged to crimson. I looked at him, feeling sort of triumphant like now everyone would know I was his. I had his stink on me, and all the rights and privileges of that endorsement.

  Instead, he denied it up and down, his lip curled in a disgusted sneer. Everyone believed him. I was immediately shunned and turned into a pariah. I was painted a liar, desperate for attention and recognition, and nothing more.

  I never could keep my mouth shut.

  It got me into trouble then, and it was getting me in trouble now. I was digging myself a deeper and deeper hole. At least, back then, I knew when to stop. I rolled over and accepted my new status as a social fuck-up and just tried to finish school, drawing as little attention to myself as possible. Then I left all of them behind and never looked back, starting something new somewhere else. A new me. A hermit crab with a new shell.

  That was all I had to do here: hunker down, shut up, get through. I couldn't stop fucking up and I didn't know why. But Rafe had a point about being a liar. Hadn’t I let Darby’s lie twist me into something I wasn’t? Ironically: a liar who was telling the truth? It was a carnival mirror funhouse, and I got out the only way I could.

  Do you know who you are, Jolie?

  The words rattled through my mind over and over again, repeating until they were like a spinning mandala. Finally, exhausted as the sun seemed to be setting and the sky paled to grey, there was no way left to even answer.

  Nobody.

  I’m nobody.

  ***

  Morning came again, and I didn’t even remember sleeping. When I heard the bolts turning in the door I was awake and sitting upright, my heart a rabbit banging against the bars of my chest.

  Relief flooded me as his silhouette appeared in the open doorway and I found myself grinning stupidly, gratefully. I vacillated between loathing and loving him—he was evil, cruel… a serial killer or rapist or something, but he was also a kind, beautiful man. Well, kind in his own sort of way. I was surprised at that thought, but tried to clear my mind quickly as I heard him opening the door.

  He wore no smile as he stood in the doorway. “Are you going to behave, Jolie?”

  I immediately nodded. “Yes. I'll behave.” I couldn't say anything else. The way he said it made it sound like it was my last chance.

  “You will have to be absolutely obedient from now on. You understand this.”

  Horrible images of what that might have meant flashed through my mind, filling me with nothing short of absolute terror, but I managed to stay calm enough to give an even, measured nod.

  “Yes.” The moment the word left my lips, tears began flowing from my eyes again, and I could feel my face contorting against my will.

  He stared at me, passive and unchanging, hardly seeming to react at all to the sudden shift in my demeanor. He must have seen it coming. It was only a matter of time until I was going to crumble under the fear and stress of the situation he'd put me in, and I think he knew it. My facade had come tumbling down.

  Rafe walked toward the bed, putting up a hand. “Stop. I won't... have all that, now. Relax.”

  I brought my hands up to my face, covering it half in shame, half in an attempt to wipe the tears that now streamed down my cheeks. I held them there for a bit too long, and I felt his long, strong fingers wrapping my wrists and pulling them away. There was a definite gentleness to the motion, but it was insistent and firm.

  “I know this isn't easy for you, as I said. I'll offer you a small consolation if you'll stop crying, but not until you do.”

  My shoulders shook uncontrollably, though I tried to nod my assent.

  “Jolie? would you like that?” he repeated, louder.

  “Ye-yes,” I finally managed to get out.

  “Good. Yes. You may ask me one question, and I will answer it completely honestly. Isn’t that good?”

  I nodded, sniffling hard and wet.

  “Jolie?” he said loudly over my snuffling, “we can do this once a day if you like, if you're obedient. That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to soothe you, to allay your concerns and fears. Now, think hard on what you'll ask, stop crying, and ask it.”

  He released my hands and laced his fingers in front of his waist.

  I eventually collected myself enough to stop crying, and took a slow, even breath to prepare myself. I brought my eyes to his, asking the only question I really wanted the answer to. The rest could come later. I would be good long enough to find out everything I needed to know.

  “When are you going to let me go?”

  He spoke immediately, as if he knew the question before it passed my lips.

  “I will not let you go.”

  I opened my mouth to try to ask some follow-up question, search for some clarification, find some opening I could escape through, any way that I could leave. He held a finger up, his eyes narrowing at me. I closed my mouth then, knowing that I'd said all I could, and he'd said all he was going to.

  “Now, you obey.” He rose and came to stand over me. “Every command, without hesitation. You will obey.”

  I gave a soft, shaking nod. What choice did I have?

  He brought the bolt of cloth down from the edge of the headboard and tied it carefully around my eyes. The clasps of the thin dressing gown I'd been clothed in were undone at my shoulders, and I felt him pulling it down my body, exposing me completely. The silken cloth piled at the bottom of the bed around my still-bruised ankle, and I shivered at the feeling of his fingertips sliding along me as he began exploring me anew.

  There was a definite gentleness to those first few moments, almost as if he was worshiping me, but the notion was dispelled quickly when he grasped both of my nipples firmly. I cried out and tried to jerk back, my hand instinctively coming to grab at his wrist to try to pull him away. The moment my fingers wrapped around, I knew I'd made a mistake, and quickly pulled back.

  “Good girl. Relax.”

  As soon as he said the word, I did. Relax. My breath came out in a whoosh and I felt my body steady.

  Obedient. Do it.

  My heart beat slowly went back to near normal as he walked around the bed, prowling like a cat.

  “I’ve been thinking about you quite a bit, Jolie, quite a bit. You… intrigue me.”

  I blinked against the blindfold pointlessly, turning my head toward where I thought he was.

  “You stir something in me. Something unexpected. Something I would like to explore. Is that all right?”

  I bit my lips together, wondering what he meant by that, and instantly felt another hard tweak of my nipples, causing me to yelp.

  “I’m sorry, Jolie, but I really must insist that you answer me when I ask you a question. Yes?”

  “Y—Yes!” I said instantly.

  “That’s better, pet,” he cooed. I felt his warm hands cup under my breasts gently, soothing them.

  “That will be the foundation of our trust. Honesty. Absolute honesty.”

  I shook my head urgently as my skin prickled with fear and… something else.

 
; “I confess that I have tried to avoid you, to treat you as a guest and nothing more but…” He sighed heavily. I smelled the spicy musk of his cologne and felt my back arch unconsciously toward him.

  “Time and again I find myself in this hallway, if not physically then mentally. My mind wanders back to you,” he whispered in a low grumble that I strained to hear.

  “It seems improbable, and yet…” the pads of his thumbs slid across my nipples, pebbling them instantly.

  “Ah yes,” he sighed. “So responsive. So pliable, yet so fierce.”

  I felt his fingers drift along the sensitive skin at the side of my breasts, then come to meet his thumb. He plucked at me gently.

  “I would like to explore this more fully, Jolie, if you are willing. Yes?”

  I nodded fervently and felt his breath against the lobe of my ear. He was very close.

  “Say the word, Jolie,” he whispered hotly in my ear.

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  My chest rose and fell more and more rapidly the more he pinched and pulled at my nipples, becoming more and more forceful by the moment. He rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, pulling up toward him, causing my back to arch hard in an attempt to alleviate the pressure.

  He held me just like that for an agonizingly long moment, only the arch of my back keeping my whole body weight from resting at the joining of his fingers and my nipples. My muscles quivered under the strain, and just as they gave out, he released me.

  “Ah yes, this is good. You're an obedient one. I think that’s your nature, truth be told. It seems your petulant, self-indulgent antagonism was short-lived. That's good. And it wasn’t so fruitful, was it? You must admit, this is better.”

  His fingers trailed down my chest and belly then, urging my legs apart with a light touch at each of my thighs. I didn't need to be pushed. The excitement of being so completely helpless drove me to spread them for him.

  He stroked softly at my now-soaked slit, his fingertip slipping into me just slightly at the end of each stroke. As he went on, he pushed more and more into me, the entire length of his finger—and soon, his palm—still stimulating my clit as he worked into me. I moaned and whimpered unrestrained now, having nothing left to hide from him. I couldn't hide my pleasure, my pain, my sadness... nothing. I was completely exposed to him.

  He worked a second finger into me quickly, pumping and pulling up roughly inside before long. I cried out and jerked my hips up and away, only to find his other hand shoving them back down to the bed. As intense and borderline painful as the stimulation was, it quickly gave way to an unbelievable pleasure.

  I'd almost forgotten how skilled he was with his hands, and soon found myself lost in the sensation entirely. Even behind the blindfold, my eyes drifted closed, imagining exactly what those long, thick fingers looked like as they were being plunged deep into me.

  One of those wonderful lengths slipped from me, and my small whimper of protest turned into a loud yelp of surprise as he drove it almost uncaringly into my ass. I heard a low, growled half-moan of enjoyment from him as he began pumping me again. His weight tilted the mattress as he slid next to me and I could feel the rock-hard throb of his cock through his trousers.

  The ache from the unexpected penetration soon faded, replaced by an entirely unique sort of pleasure that seemed to intensify everything else. I went nearly rigid when I felt his lips, suddenly around my clit and sucking firmly. Just as I began to approach what I was sure would be a thrashing, screaming orgasm, I heard a loud chime, not entirely unlike a church bell.

  Chapel.

  The moment the tone issued from across the courtyard, I felt his fingers pull out of me quickly, his lips slipping away as well. Before I could raise any protest or ask anything of him, he had jerked the blindfold away from my eyes and was gone.

  Only a few minutes later, I heard the same rising cascade of wild, unrestrained screams coming from across the courtyard, going on for just as long as they had before. They were loud enough to echo outside. My body raced with chills.

  He knows I can hear him.

  He’s letting me.

  Just as before, the desperate screaming stopped as quickly as it started. Rafe’s footsteps echoed loudly in the hall, and I realized that the door had been left open. He hadn't bothered to even close it, let alone lock it. Was he so sure that I was helpless, that I was completely subservient?

  He was right, of course. Even if I hadn't been tied, I wouldn't have moved from the bed. Somehow he knew, even if I hadn’t.

  His footsteps stopped, and the door swung open silently. He stood there for long moments, panting slowly, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He waited, flexing his hands.

  Slowly, I opened my legs wide again, inviting him with a small moan and a shifting of my hips toward him. I soon found his hands at my thighs, stroking softly. I felt a strange heat at his fingertips, but I couldn't be sure if it was the anticipation of the orgasm he'd left me so close to or something else.

  One of his fingertips came to my clit, stroking me gently, only rubbing more firmly at all when I began eagerly bucking my hips against him, practically driving myself over the edge into the climax I'd been denied earlier. My feet pressed flat to the bed as I screamed, my hips jerking upward toward his hand and remaining there, my whole body going rigid as wave after wave of howling pleasure roared through me.

  All I could think about were his hands. His beautiful hands. So strong, so deadly. So precise and knowing. Nothing had ever turned me on so much in my life.

  CHAPTER 4

  I woke to the familiar smell of breakfast cooking and the distant sounds of someone in the kitchen. I had no idea where it was, but it couldn't have been terribly far from Gretchen's room. Rafe came in quietly not long after I woke, drawing his fingers along the cool, clean sheets and reaching for my hand.

  “Time for a bath, Jolie.”

  I got up slowly, still a bit unsteady on my legs, not having used them much for the past while. He held my arm and patiently guided me down the hall to the large, opulently decorated bathroom of the upper floor where I was kept.

  I kept my head down for the most part, shying away from him slightly. This seemed to please him, and he said nothing to me so long as I came along quietly. I looked up to him once we'd entered the bathroom and started to thank him before a withering glance from him shut me up. He didn't want to hear me.

  I couldn't blame him. Every time I opened my mouth, I ruined things. I made him angry. I caused problems.

  He drew a warm bath in the deep porcelain-white tub, urging me with a simple gesture to slip in. The water was left shallow, barely enough to cover my legs. I stared at my flesh, now yellowed and greenish around the edges of the fading bruises.

  He gently scrubbed me down, pulling my limbs one by one and lathering them with a strongly perfumed soap that felt like satin on my skin. Then he tipped my head back and slowly washed my hair, plunging his fingers deep into my scalp and massaging me for a long time. As I submitted more and more to his firm, sure hands I felt the dreamy memories coming back of other baths he must have given me. I felt like a child, small and helpless in his grasp, utterly safe and clean.

  A clear bottle held some golden oil that he swirled into the water with his fingertips, drawing the mixture over my bruises in a minty, aromatic salve. Then he tugged me back to standing and helped me from the tub, holding out a pristine, fluffy white towel for my balance.

  Slipping a smallish pink robe over my shoulders once he was finished drying me, he tied the sash in a neat bow and planted a soft, lingering kiss behind my ear. My hands hung limp at my side almost exclusively, only coming up when he raised them himself. I'd resolved to play the part of his little puppet, doing only what I was bid. It was a strange, empty sort of feeling, but a comforting one, too.

  As he arranged the front of the robe demurely over my breasts, he tipped up my chin and looked into my eyes. “Breakfast should be ready by now. Are you hungry, Jolie?�
�

  I gave a soft nod.

  “Good. Come.”

  He took me by the arm again, leading me back down that stony, windowless hallway. My legs were working a bit better then, and I didn't need to lean on him quite as much. I found myself perversely wishing he'd carry me. It seemed to fit the theme, I thought. Every new strikingly submissive thought was a surprise, and one I wasn't entirely sure I was glad about.

  But I couldn't deny that even the short period of total obedience I'd shown had gotten me plenty. I was out of Gretchen’s room, there were no chains on me, and Rafe seemed to be completely pleased with me, for once.

  He led me to the laden table with one chair situated at each side. As I slid into the padded seat, my eyes were drawn outside to the garden below. I hadn't noticed how beautiful it was—seemingly endless vines, bushes, and trees in a timid, early spring bloom now. I could almost smell the flowers from where I sat. I always wanted something like that.

  I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. I'd always dreamed of a garden like that, and now... it may as well have been a million miles away instead of on the other side of the glass. I was never going to set foot in that garden, because I was never going to leave the house. It was one thing to bring me down a hallway for a bath, or around a corner for a meal, but he'd probably never let me outside.

  I plucked the gold fork between my fingers and held it above the plate of eggs benedict and grilled vegetables. One of my favorite things, but I was suddenly too sad to eat it. I cast my eyes down and willed myself not to cry as sorrow and self-pity sloshed through my chest.

  I felt his hand atop my head, stroking my hair softly. “Now you're beginning to understand. Submissive, obedient, pleasant. You're being very, very good.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t help it.

  Defiant.

  “No?” he said with an amused, curious tone. He took the seat opposite me and flung the napkin out deftly, then let it settle over his firm, thick thighs.