by J. L. Beck
Funny, he thinks anything he says is actually a choice of mine. From the second he kidnapped me, he’s been giving me these “choices” more like not-so-thinly veiled threats.
Soaking up all my anger, I fling the box to the hardwood and slip the buttons of his shirt through the holes. I watch his face intently as I strip and quickly shuffle through the tilted box to retrieve the dress. It slides over my skin like it has been made for me, hugging tight to every angle and curve my body possesses.
“The shoes,” he prompts.
His face is still unreadable, save for the hard cut of his jaw that’s clenched tight as he watches me. Something tells me he’d be even more handsome if he didn’t have such a damn scowl on his face.
The fucking four-inch spike heels, which look like they were pulled out of some lame-ass porno, take me a little longer to get into and even longer to stand upright in.
He approaches once I catch my balance, the syringe in hand. “This is for you.”
I glare. Even in the heels, I only reach his chin. “Will you at least tell me what it is you’re injecting me with?”
“Birth control,” he explains as he pulls off the cap, exposing the thin needle.
He gives me a stern look as he grabs my arm, telling me without words not to move. Little does he know, I want this shot if it means I won’t get pregnant. Having a baby by a man who buys a woman at an auction seems like the worst possible idea ever.
I remain still as he injects the needle into the flesh on my upper arm. There’s a slight sting, followed by a burning, but it’s far better than having a baby with a monster.
“Good girl. I like when you listen to me.” The wicked tilt of his lips should clue me in that I’m not going to like what he does next. “Before we go, you forgot something.”
Puzzled, I cock my head to the side and stare at him, a bit confused. What more could there be? Dropping his hands, he fists the edge of my dress. I’m still wearing the plain cotton panties he’d given me, and I think I know where this is headed. Gripping the edge of my panties, he easily peels them down my legs, kneeling as he gently lifts one foot at a time to remove them.
“I didn’t say you could wear panties tonight.”
I swallow thickly and to my utter shock, not completely out of fear. Staring down at him, the hard lines of his face and the flare of his wide shoulder away from his neck entice me in ways that I never found attractive in Marco. It’s not just his body. It’s the damn arrogance wafting off him like he owns the world and damn well knows it.
He pushes upward again, trailing his fingers from my ankle all the way to the cusp of my thighs. I try not to flinch as he eases my legs open enough to cup my center.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
I’m trembling now, and if he doesn’t stop touching me, I’ll fall over and break my neck.
“Whatever I want.”
I jerk away, but he is faster than me and snags my hip with his other hand, holding me in place. “Be still. I won’t hurt you until you make me.”
Goosebumps pebble my flesh when he slowly parts my folds and slips his index and middle finger inside me. There is no build up, no foreplay. His touch is gentle, but the intrusion itself is rough, consuming like he’s trying to claim a part of me. The sensation overwhelms me in an instant. Fear, hate, and loneliness all swirl together into one unwanted feeling.
My muscles tense, and a slight sting follows as he fingers me, touching me in a place no other man has before. What starts as an unwanted touch becomes everything. With every shallow stroke of his finger, a match is struck, igniting, and threatening to consume me in its flames. I close my eyes and tip my head back, forgetting everything else around me.
I’m so consumed by it I don’t question Nicolo as he shifts, his hand slipping from my hip. Not until that same hand comes down onto my bare skin, filling the air with a loud smack. I hear it before I feel it, and I yelp at the sharp pain that burns against my ass cheek, but that pain quickly fades away as he continues to fuck me with his fingers while circling his thumb around my clit.
Another slap hits the same spot, right at the crease of my ass. He rubs the pain away before delivering another blow. And I like it. I like the pain that’s followed by pleasure, the burning in my skin, and the tightening in my core. His hand comes down on my ass a few more times, and I ride his hand, enjoying the curl of his fingers inside of me and the way he rubs my clit.
“You like this way too much,” he murmurs as he pulls away.
His fingers drag across my clit as he removes his hand and stands up. I open my eyes just in time to take in his smug grin.
He holds his fingers up to the light before bringing them to my mouth. “You act like you’re so terrified of me, but your body betrays you.”
I am afraid of him. Just maybe not as much as I should be.
His eyes swirl with lust as he shoves his fingers past my lips. “Suck, taste how much you want me.”
I squeeze my thighs together and gently lap at his fingers with my tongue. My muskiness invades my senses. I never thought I would find this anything but disgusting, and I hate to admit it, but there is something erotic about tasting yourself.
Our gazes collide as I swirl my tongue around his thick digits. His own eyes are dilated, and the animalistic look in them tells me he’s ready to part my thighs and taste me for himself.
When he’s satisfied, he pulls the digits out of my mouth and leans in, so his lips are only a fraction away from mine. His hot breath fans against my lips, and I lick my own, anticipating something that I know will never happen.
His eyes dart from my lips and back up to my eyes. “You can pretend all you like, stellina. Yes, in some ways, you may hate me, but you don’t hate the way it feels when I touch you. In fact, I’m thinking you like it.”
Intent on not drawing more of his ire, I keep my mouth shut. Even as curses and feelings and words rattle around in my brain.
“You’re looking a little pale,” he muses, his gaze roaming my face with an edge of concern. “Let’s go get you some protein.”
He holds his arm out, expecting me to take it as if we’re headed on a date and not a forced march for his pleasure. If I had more balls, I would tell him to go fuck himself. Well, that and if it wasn’t for these ridiculous heels he is making me wear and the fact I’m afraid I might fall and die.
“I’m only taking your arm because if I don’t, I’ll probably break my neck,” I explain as I loop my arm in his.
He grins. “You act like I’m giving you a choice.”
All I can do is shake my head because any response from me right now may result in my untimely death. On our walk downstairs, I see his house is still shiny and big and not at all like the hard man who has been using me brutally.
The dining room is as elegant as everything else. A long table bisects the room, candles dot the surface, as do trays of steaming food. Enough for an army of people. My mouth waters as we walk the length of the table, the scents of roasted meat and vegetables overwhelming even my anger and arousal.
He sits at the head of the table like a king might and leads me to stand beside him. I stare at the table and find that there aren’t any more chairs. I glare, wondering what kind of game he is playing while he arranges his napkin over one of his muscled thighs.
“You can stand and watch me eat or if you’re hungry—”
As if on cue, my belly lets out a long, loud rumble that I know even he can hear. He snorts. It’s not a laugh but more of a grunt, and he pats his other knee. “You can sit on my lap.”
The idea enrages me. “I’m not a child,” I say, the leash on my rage growing thinner by the minute. My stomach grumbles once more, the smell of the delicious foods doing a number on my ability to fight him.
When he faces the food again, clearly intent on eating it all, I surge forward and position myself on his leg, my own clenched together between his thighs. In this position, my dress isn’t long enough to cover my pussy, which
is now rubbing against his slacks.
It's not as uncomfortable as this dress feels. It’s so fucking scratchy all over. It’s tough for me to remain still.
“Was that so hard?” he whispers into the shell of my ear and slides a piece of steak from a tray and onto his plate.
Deliberately, he cuts it into tiny bites and then spears several on the end of a fork. To my surprise, he hands me the fork, allowing me to feed myself. Before he pulls away, he clutches my fingers tight around the handle. His grip bites into my flesh, and I wince.
“If you think to stab me with this, you will not like the consequences.” A deadly menace laces his tone.
I nod once and shove the food into my mouth. Of course, Sarah, the bitchy housekeeper, makes delicious steak. It doesn’t mean I hate her any less for her involvement in holding me hostage.
We continue eating for several minutes. As I clean my fork each time, he skewers more food, steak, asparagus, and tender potatoes on it. Carefully passing me the food to not force or spill on me. He’s gentle and almost kind, but I can’t forget the monster he really is.
We’ve decimated two plates of food when the door at the end of the dining room creaks open. I freeze mid-chew and stop to monitor the man entering the room.
His ripped black jeans and expensive white button down are at odds with the tattoos covering him and the riot of hair going in all directions like he’s just gotten up and ran his fingers through it. His menacing gaze and down-turned lips make him unapproachable. The clatter of the fork against the plate jerks me back to the present.
My first instinct is to run, the fear in the pit of my stomach tightening. I don’t realize I’m shaking until Nicolo grips my hips tightly, pulling me closer and whispering into my ear.
“He won’t touch you.”
The man drags a chair from the side of the dining room to the table and parks himself to my left. The table is large, and there is a good amount of space between us, but not enough for me. He’s close enough that it wouldn’t take much to reach out and grab me. The idea makes me tremble more.
“Lucas,” Nicolo warns, obviously sensing my fear.
The man—Lucas—glares back at him and drags food onto his own plate without a word of acknowledgment to either of us. All I can do is sit there, a shaking mess, and stare at him.
He eats loudly, almost sloppily, like an animal feasting. Anticipation of the unknown has me on my toes, and eventually, he reaches out, his fingers snagging the edge of my dress where it cuts across my shoulder blades.
“I didn’t realize you were dressing up your whores now,” he addresses Nicolo, completely ignoring my presence.
Nicolo growls at him, actually growls, like a dog protecting its bone. Without warning, he lifts me off his lap and sets me on my feet. My legs almost collapse under me as I teeter in the heels. I grab onto the table just in time to keep myself from falling.
Nicolo brushes past me, motioning for me to follow. I do so on unsteady legs while pulling my dress down as much as I can. The two motions combined don’t mix because before I know it, I’m stumbling. Of course, it has to be as I pass the man I’m trying to avoid at all costs.
Lucas twists in his chair and reaches out to cup my waist. If this was anyone else, it might have seemed like he did it out of kindness, but the menacing look in his eyes and the way his fingers dig into my flesh says differently.
He catches me, his hands gripping my upper arms tightly.
“Don’t touch her,” Nicolo orders.
Before Lucas can respond, we are marching out of the dining room. Nicolo’s hand clasps around mine as he drags me back the way we came. I can barely keep up and nearly trip ten times in the process.
When we make it to my room, he shoves me inside. I stumble again and land sideways on the bed. Realizing the predicament I’ve found myself in, I scramble to sit in case he gets any ideas of following me inside.
“I’ll be back for you tomorrow. We have some work to do to get you ready for the auction,” he says, standing only partially inside, leaning against the doorframe.
I stiffen but keep my chin held high and my glare solid.
He continues as if my response is irrelevant, and I guess it is. As long as I’m here, I’m at his will. He can bend me however he sees fit, and there isn’t anything I can do about it.
“Behave tomorrow, or I’ll give you to Lucas to play with, and he’s not as gentle with his toys as I am.”
He doesn’t give me the chance to respond. The last thing I hear is the click of the lock as he twists it into place.
10
Nic
Soo comes strutting into my office and tosses a stack of paperwork down on my desk before I’ve even had my coffee. I scowl at him, but he takes it good-naturedly, as always, and throws himself into a chair in front of my desk. When he tosses his boot-clad feet upon my desk, I shove them over the edge. His feet hit the ground with a thud that leaves him smiling at me. The fucker sure knows how to be annoying.
I shuffle around the papers to put them in order. “What the hell is all this?”
He lays his hands across his belly, relaxing deeper into the chair. “It’s a list of everyone who has paid the auction deposit. Rumor mill is churning, Nic, and everyone is whispering that you’re auctioning off a woman soon.”
The conversation takes a sudden turn of interest, and I toss the papers to the corner of my desk to deal with later. “Well, they’re not wrong. Anything out yet about who the woman is?”
“A few whispers, but I squashed them, since I know you want it to be a surprise. Also, to deter anyone from mounting a rescue at the last moment.”
I nod. “Good, keep it that way. If you need to, circulate your own rumors to lead them in another direction. I don’t want a single soul outside this house to know who is going up on the block that night.”
As if trying to read my mind, Soo narrows his eyes, studying me. “So you’re actually going to go through with this?” When I don’t reply immediately, he continues, “Once we do, there’s no going back.”
“Second thoughts?” I prod.
He laughs and holds his hands open. “You know me. I live for this shit. Bringing down cesspit hierarchies is one of my favorite weekend activities.” His smile clears as he continues, “Just be careful, okay?”
I don’t insult him by asking what he means. Already, the girl occupies my thoughts. Every time I touch her, I tell myself it’s the last time, and yet, five minutes later, I’m craving another taste. Soo is right. I need to be careful and watch all our backs. The moment I slip up, she’ll take advantage. It’s what her kind does.
“What are your contacts on the inside saying?”
Another lazy grin slips onto his face. “Right now, the disappearance of your girl has died down in favor of Gardello’s disappearance.”
Shit. Killing him had been a rash decision. I’d long prided myself on being in control, at least with matters which would affect the outcome of my goals. Marco disappearing could toss many wrenches into our plans.
“What’s the word then?”
Soo’s lips spread wide, and I roll my eyes. “They are saying Celia and Marco ran off together. That they eloped instead of waiting for the marriage.”
I snort. “How does that play out? They were supposed to get married before Marco disappeared, and Celia had left first.”
“I don’t know, man, they’re trying to rationalize and save face. All the houses have their guard up.”
An idea pings forward in my mind, and I surge across the desk and snag the paperwork to shuffle through. “Any of these dickheads from the families?”
“A couple lower-level members, no one high up on your list,” he says. His gaze tracks over every single twitch as I leaf through the printed stack.
“Any chance of someone in Gardello’s family showing up? Better yet, can you make it happen?”
“Can I make it happen…” Soo mocks. “It will only take a little enticement. Probably a littl
e something from Lucas to draw in a few individuals wanting what he is offering, but maybe not what you are.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Once the papers are stacked neatly again, I look over my desk at him. “We just need them to see her, to realize that no one is safe, and even a princess of the five families can fall into hell.”
“And after that?”
I shrug. “After the auction, we’ll be in the open, and it won’t matter as we’ll be breathing down all their necks.”
He tips his head and lays it back over the curve of the chair to look up at the ceiling.
As if waiting for a lull in the conversation to enter, Lucas shuffles into my office and slinks into the other chair in front of my desk. “Are we having a family meeting?”
Soo tilts his head to glare at him, but it’s half-hearted. “We were just discussing the auction. You’ve got good timing; we need to get some info on what you plan to provide for refreshment.”
Lucas shoves his hands into the front of the black hoodie he’s wearing. “You make it sound like I’m the bitch here, slinging drinks.”
I lean over the desk, ready to ply his ego with what I know he wants most: power. “Actually, we need to ensure a few people are there and no one knows your customer base like you do. Do you have anything special laid away?”
“Like what?” he stares at me, not blinking.
“Like something to lure out more prominent members of the five families. It’s time to invite them to come out and play.”
He licks his lips and takes a long, gusty inhale. “Yes, I have a few things that might interest them. Mostly a special blend of cocaine from Belize, which I know several of them have been begging me for over the past few months. What do you want me to say?”
I shrug. “Say what you usually say, but make sure they know they can’t get the goods unless they are in attendance that night. We need one prominent member of each family to be present.”
“Even Ricci?” Lucas asks, studying me as intently as Soo did a moment ago. “What do you think will happen when he realizes his precious princess is on the auction block?” More venom than usual laces his tone as he speaks.