by Linnea May
I struggle free from his embrace, and to my surprise, he doesn’t restrain me. I move away a few inches and turn around to face him. He's lying next to me, still seemingly half asleep, his hair ruffled and a relaxed smile gracing his handsome face. I would melt at the sight of him under any other circumstance. He looks so innocent and sexy at the same time, his strong muscles clashing in contrast with his boyish face.
"Ryan," I whisper, my gaze locking onto his. "I'm scared, because of you. You're scaring me."
The intimacy between us allows for me to remain calm. Even if he's holding me captive against my will and refuses to tell me what's wrong, he's still the same man who makes my heart beat at the speed of light, the same man who I couldn't get off my mind for an entire year, the same man who swept me off me feet and made me feel things I never thought possible. I feel so close to him that I'm confident he’ll eventually let me into his heart and mind. I know I can get him to talk to me.
His eyes flicker with a warning.
"What did I tell you to call me?"
"Master," I correct myself. "Master, you're scaring me."
He nods. "Good girl."
I wait for a few moments to give him a chance to reply, but he doesn't say another word. He just looks at me, the blue of his eyes filled with sadness. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he's quietly asking for me to help him. But help him with what?
"Master, I know that our time is up," I add. "It's time for me to go home. You said so yourself."
I flinch in surprise when he reaches out for me, his hand closing around my upper arms with such violence that I groan in pain, casting him a reproachful look.
"You're not going anywhere," he whispers. "You're mine, doll."
I swallow hard, trying to find the right words to say to him.
"But I need to leave," I insist. "Layla is waiting for me and-"
"You're not going anywhere!" he repeats, louder this time. His voice is so pervasive that it incites more fear within me.
My heart is racing, chased by fear. I try not to let it show, but he has come too close to me for that to work. He sees and knows everything. His eyes wander to my trembling lower lip when I speak again.
"Please, master," I utter, suppressing tears from my watering eyes. "Please speak to me. Please tell me what is going on."
His eyes widen, and for a split second I can see a clarity returning to them that has been lacking for too long.
"I've lost, doll," he whispers. "I've lost myself in you."
Chapter 42
Ryan
I watch for a reaction on her face. A grimace of shock, disdain, confusion, anger. Anything. But she doesn't give me much to work with. Her face is frozen in an unreadable expression, scanning me with a mixture of worry and something else that I can't place.
Attraction? Is that it?
How could that be? She said she's scared of me, and I told her she should be. She knows that I've locked her in this room for longer than we agreed upon. She knows that I took away the decision to leave on her own free will. She went with me willingly, but what's happening now is happening against her will.
"Master," she whispers. "What do you mean?"
My eyes meet the deep green of hers, a forest full of wonder and mystery. I know very little about my doll, but yet I feel like I have known her for years. Her proximity feels natural, familiar, right.
Letting her go feels anything but right.
I crave her, even now. A part of me is glad that she doesn't see it, because it's hidden beneath the silk sheets. I'm rock hard, my cock yearning to be buried inside of her. Again. And again.
"I can't let you go," I say. "You're mine now."
She shakes her head, but her expression still doesn't change to anything I'd expect. Horror, disgust, shock. All those emotions were written on Sandria's face back then, when she realized what I was doing to her, when she realized that she was my captive. She cried for help, tried to fight me, her long claws cutting into the flesh of my back as she tried to get away from me. The memory still hurts. The way she fought me off, the way she stared at me, accusing me of being a monster. And she was right. I am a monster. I'm a sick addict who has no control over his cravings.
Laura has an idea of that now as well.
But why isn't she reacting in the same way? Why does she remain calm and collected, looking at me as if I'd just told her a sad story instead of threatening her and telling her that she's not allowed to go anywhere anymore?
Instead of yelling, punching me, or hammering against the door, Laura leans in closer, her lips meeting mine in a loving kiss. I'm too stunned to reciprocate at first, but I'm defenseless against her. We kiss like intimate lovers kiss, calm and acquainted, our tongues almost shy toward each other. She lets out soft moans, the sound of them driving me insane with desire for her.
I'm floating on an unfamiliar high when she breaks our kiss to look at me.
"Master, you have to talk to me," she breathes. "You have to let me know what's torturing you."
She's not looking at me like a victim would regard its violator. She's not pleading for me to let her go, not fighting me, or casting me a face of disgust.
My doll looks at me with sincere worry.
And I refuse to grant her only wish.
I can't talk about it, not with her. How am I supposed to tell her something about this when I don't understand it myself?
I shake my head. "Doll, some things can't be explained."
She surprises me with her next reaction. A little chuckle.
I search for her gaze to make sure that I just heard right. And yes, there she is, smiling at me and shaking her head as if it I'd just said something incredibly silly.
"So, master, let me know then," she whispers. "What's your plan? You'll just keep me down here forever?"
I frown at her. Is she making fun of me?
"I'm not saying I'd hate that," she adds. "But what about your life? What about your business? I'm sure you're needed out there – way more than I am."
My pulse speeds up at the mention of those things. I can still hear the phone ringing inside my head, the aggressive texts from my loyal assistant Lemon. I can only imagine the trouble I’ve caused him, and everyone else who's been working on this acquisition for the past year.
This was the worst time for me to lose my mind - which made it the most obvious time for it to occur, as well. The pressure and responsibility didn't stabilize me as I'd hoped, but instead pushed me over the edge, right into Laura's slim arms.
Instead of giving her a reply, I opt for the only thing I know I'm naturally good at. I grab her by the back of her head and pull her closer, pressing her lips to mine for another kiss.
She resists at first, but soon gives into me, relaxing under my touch. I roll over on top of her, pushing her arms up and pressing them into the mattress. She squirms beneath me, immobilized but just as greedy with lust as I am.
"Stay like this," I tell her, as I let go of her hands and move down to her tits. She arches her back and moans loudly when I squeeze them together, wrapping my lips around her left nipple and beginning to suck and bite on it. Her breathing changes quickly, and by the time I repeat the same action on the other side, I have her exactly where I want her, coiling with need and spreading her legs for me.
I cover her with kisses, traveling down to her belly. She giggles when I tease the side of her pelvis, one of her most ticklish spots. Her legs widen eagerly when I move closer to her core, her lips spreading before my eyes, already glistening with desire.
An ecstatic moan fills the room when I lean in to taste her. She tenses up as my tongue draws circles around her clit, drawing more moans from her. She's dripping wet and more than ready for me. I enjoy the taste of her for a few more minutes, before I get back up, hovering over her and catching her dazed gaze. Our eyes are glued to each other when I slowly part her lips with the tip of my steel hard cock.
This time is different. I don't fuck her like the sav
age I am, not like all the other times when I fucked her, or anyone else. I'm sliding inside her with an eerie patience and calm, savoring every moment until my hips are pressed against hers. Our lips meet for another kiss and we engage in a dance that I've never danced with anyone before.
We're not fucking.
We‘re making love.
Chapter 43
Laura
A cynical thought crosses my mind when I wake up this time.
I guess this is my life now.
Waking up next to him, freshly fucked, my body sore from his cock, his hands, his cane, the collar cutting into my throat as I sleep. My days will consist of nothing but sex, food, and his mysterious company, spiced up by a lot of unanswered questions.
As alluring as all of this sounds, I know this is no way to live, either for him or for me. Unlike me, he does have responsibilities, a gigantic company to run and providing for the thousands of lives connected to it.
And I know he's running from all of it right now because of his obsession with me.
I can sense that something is broken inside of him. I think I've sensed it from the very first moment when we met; it may even be one of the many things that drew me to him.
He doesn't have his arms wrapped around me this time, but instead he is sleeping with his face turned to me, as relaxed as I've ever seen it. The stubble on his face has grown even darker. He looks so handsome, but yet so alone.
I want to kiss him, but before I do, another idea crosses my mind. I freeze as my eyes curiously wander to the door. Did he ever lock it when he was with me? I never noticed.
This could be my chance to get out and fix this. My gaze turns back to him. He hasn't moved nor shown any signs of waking up.
I try to make as little noise as possible when I peel myself out of the blanket, carefully slipping out of bed and walking on quiet tiptoes to the door. I stop before I reach it, realizing something else.
Being naked has become so natural for me that I almost walked out the door wearing nothing but the collar around my neck. I scan my surroundings for anything to wear. He gave me a light robe to wear once; where the hell did that go? I can't seem to find it anywhere, and while I'm still in the middle of deciding how to deal with the situation at hand, I hear him turning over on the bed.
I don't think twice, quickly reaching for the doorknob. I am surprised to find the door unlocked. I open it silently and slip through without letting another moment pass, carefully closing it behind me with the intention of making as little noise as possible. If he just woke up, there's no chance in hell that I will get far, but I don't hear anything from the other side.
I did it. I got out – and he's still sleeping, not suspecting a thing.
I let out a sigh of relief, but am reminded again of my nakedness, now that I'm out of the warmth of my red velvet room. Cold air meets my skin and I instantly wrap my arms around myself. I'm shivering with cold and excitement. I follow the surprisingly bright corridor – it's narrow, not much wider than the door to my room, and its brick walls are painted white but there are no windows, only very bright ceiling lights – leading all the way to the end of the corridor, where it turns into steps right ahead of me. I’ve walked this corridor once before, a year ago, when he led me outside.
I hurry toward the stairs, my eyes turning up to the door at the top of them. I'm covered in goosebumps by the time I reach it, and for a moment I fear that my journey could end here if this door turns out to be locked.
But it isn't.
The doorknob turns right away, but I'm hesitant to walk through just yet. What if there was someone else in the house? Would I really want to face them butt-naked like this?
Do I have a choice?
My worries aren't strong enough to actually keep me from slipping through the door. I squint as I'm met with a sharp ray of sunlight hitting me directly in the face. I shield my eyes by lifting my hand and casting a much needed shadow over them. This allows for me to get a better understanding of where I’m at. The last time I was brought up here, I just hurried along with Ryan, paying little attention to my surroundings.
The sunlight filling the room is not morning light, but the orange-tainted warmth of the late afternoon sun. This surprises me, and shows how off my sense of time has become. I could have sworn it was morning.
I’m in the main living room of the house. The polished marble flooring gleams in the afternoon sun, blinding me. The entire room is held in light colors: white, beige, and ivory with just a few darker accents here and there. A seating area with white leather sofas accented by dark cushions is positioned around a fireplace in the middle of the room. The wall opposite me is nothing but floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows and French doors lead out to a terrace laid out in slate.
To my right, platform walkways encompassed by elegant banisters permit catwalk access on the upper levels. The floor plan of the house is smaller than I expected, and there seems to be nothing but the living room and a connected open kitchen on the first floor. I'm drawn to the floor-length windows and the sun outside, but I definitely don't want to leave the house naked.
If there's anything for me to wear, I'll probably find it in his bedroom upstairs.
So, instead of walking over to the French doors and opting for escape to the outside, I make my way upstairs, covering myself as best as I can in the slight chance that someone crosses my path.
I don't see or hear another soul as I head to the second floor. I'm met with an open space that could be considered a wide corridor. Three doors are leading away from it, one to my right and two to my left. I decide to go for the single door on my right first and open it with cautious curiosity.
The room behind the door is not a bedroom, but what appears to be an office. An office that's in a terrible state.
I would have taken him for an organized person, someone who leaves his desk in less of a mess than I did when I was still attending school. Piles of paper and notes are scattered across the wide table, covering almost all of it. There are bookshelves to my left filled with books and files, and while the shelves seem to be mostly in order, the rest of the room is a mess. It's kind of dark in here because the drapes are partly closed, only letting in slim rays of sun.
I don't know why, but I walk over to the window to open them. As the room lights up, I get an even better understanding of the chaos around me. It's not limited to the desk, but also to the floor surrounding it. The walls of the room are also plastered with notes, adding to the overall disarray.
I jerk in shock when a shrill ringing sound penetrates the eerie silence that has surrounded me until now. I didn't even notice the phone until just now, as it's half buried under a pile of papers. I stare at it, my eyes wide in shock, as if this was the first phone I'd ever seen in my entire life.
My next move comes as a big surprise to me.
With a trance-like serenity, I step next to the desk and reach for the phone.
"Hello?"
Chapter 44
Ryan
I find my doll standing naked in my office, her bruised backside turned toward me as she leans to the side, shifting her hips in a way that makes her perky ass look so delicious that I can barely contain myself.
It becomes easier when I realize what she's doing. I heard the phone ringing, but only three or four times before the sound died and was replaced by the soft tone of her voice.
"Hello," she said, sounding like someone who was expecting to receive this call.
I lean against the door frame, paralyzed but curious. A few moments of silence pass before I hear a male voice on the other end of the call. I don't have to stand near her to know that it's Lemon she's talking to.
"This is Laura Brown," she says, as if it was the most natural thing. She adds a chuckle. "Yes, the waitress. May I ask who I'm speaking to?"
I can't help but let out a little snort myself. She hears me and turns around in an instant, casting me a frightened look. Her face relaxes when she sees me smiling.
> "Mr. Lemon," she says, grinning at me. "Oh, yes, Mr. Hawkins has mentioned you. No, he's fine. You have no reason to worry."
I can hear Lemon raging at the other end of the line, but Laura remains calm, nodding and smiling at me as she listens to his outburst.
"Mr. Hawkins is a little preoccupied right now," she says at one point, interrupting Lemon. "But I will let him know you called, and I promise you that he'll get back to you before the day ends. Is there a message for him?"
I can't help but laugh at this point. There she is, my beautiful, perfect doll, standing in the middle of the chaos that has become my life during the past few days, her delicious body exposed and looking as perfect as it can be while the warm sunlight reflects off her light skin, talking to my assistant as if she's been working as my secretary for years. The sight of her is so insanely mesmerizing that it almost makes me feel dizzy.
"Yes, the acquisition," she says, as if she knew exactly what she's talking about. "No, Mr. Lemon, I can assure you that he has not forgotten about it, and yes, I will let him know. He will get back to you tonight, I promise."
With that she ends the call, putting the phone aside and looking at me with crystal clear eyes.
"Lemon says to call him back," she says in a matter-of-fact tone. "He said that the meeting you fucked up by not appearing has been rescheduled for next week."
She pauses, clearing her throat, before she adds, "And to let you know that he'll cut off your balls if you fail to show up again."
We both stare at each other, testing the atmosphere between us without words, before we both break out in laughter in unison.
"Come here," I say, opening my arms for her. "Come here, my doll."
She approaches me with slow and deliberate steps, her eyes glued on mine and a coy smile on her face. I wrap my arms around her naked body. She's covered in goosebumps and her skin is so cold that it makes me shiver.