His to Keep (She's Mine Book 2)

by Stella Noir

  Part of me thought those feelings were tied to his father’s villa, where his brother had stripped me and assaulted me, and that they would go away after we had left that place. But they didn’t. I still feel like those eyes of Adrian’s can see straight into my soul.

  I didn’t think that, after all this time, I would still feel as incredible naked as I do when he looks at me that way. Like he has finally found his prey after a long hunt. After months of being on this boat with him and getting to know him and feeling my love for him grow more than I had ever expected, I am always startled by my reaction to his burning gaze. I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel even more naked than after I had removed all of my clothes, but when he looked at me that way, I did.

  When I saw him look at me with that look in his eyes, it felt like everything was on display. Not just every inch of my body, but every thought and feeling and emotion I was having or had ever had. There was nowhere to hide any of that from those eyes. And something about it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

  But feeling that naked, that vulnerable, brought up glimpses of thoughts and memories I had locked away a long time ago. Not memories of abuse or of being terrorized by someone I loved, but of feelings and a vague knowledge of conversations that had taken place. Words that had been said about me at some point in my life by people who mattered to me and confirmed my greatest fear. That I didn’t belong anywhere.

  So in the beginning, back at the villa when I was scared, at first of him, but later of his brother and father, I thought maybe I needed Adrian so much that I would do anything he asked. No matter what he asked. And I did. I did whatever he wanted, whatever he asked of me. But I soon realized that I wanted to do it. He made me do things, but I knew what was inside me. I wanted him to make me do those things.

  Then as time went on the need and the want didn’t go away the way I thought they would. In fact, if anything those feelings became more intense. There were times when I craved being told what to do by Adrian. Not in everyday life, not where real life and my design career were concerned. I craved being told what to do in the bedroom, or wherever we were when we were having sex.

  But because we were together all of the time now, because he was always there and his eyes were always watching me, because our life was on this boat which meant our sexual activities weren’t confined to a bedroom, the line between everyday life and the way he treated me in the bedroom started to blur.

  One look from him or a touch or a brush of his breath on my neck sent waves of pulsating need through my body, and all I wanted was to please him. To be owned by him. I didn’t want to call him daddy or master or sir, because he wasn’t any of those things to me. In those moments, when he would look at me like I was all he ever wanted, he would become everything to me, and a title would have made it all feel like an act. Like we were playing a game, and this wasn’t a game to me at all.

  But it was very different when he called me pet names. I loved it when he referred to me as his sweet angel or told me that I was a good girl. When he looked into my eyes and called me names like that it would bring me to tears. I would suddenly be filled with an overwhelming feeling of appreciation and love. A feeling that I was doing something good and right and I was making him happy. It was a feeling I don’t remember ever getting from another man in my entire life.

  I would always think to myself, something must have happened to me, someone must have done something to me when I was very young in order for me to want this. How could I want to be owned and humiliated and spanked by someone if I wasn’t broken? Why would I need to be subservient in order to feel appreciated? Normal, healthy people didn’t want to be treated like this, did they?

  But no matter how hard I tried to remember, no matter how many nights I spent combing through my childhood for clues, there was nothing there. Nothing I could point to that said: there it is, that’s why you like it when he does these things to you. That’s why you want to please him so badly.

  Nothing except the memories of not ever feeling like I was good enough. And the conversations my parents would have when they thought I was in bed. But I still didn’t like to think about those conversations. The times when they came back strongest, the times when I couldn’t push them away, were the times when I felt the most vulnerable with Adrian.

  It almost seemed like the feelings that were brought up in me — the feelings of wanting to please no matter how dirty and nasty the acts I was asked to do made me feel — those were the feelings brought back the memories. There was nothing I could do to stop any of it, because when it was happening, it all seemed like a puzzle I had been waiting my whole life to be put together.

  I could feel the changes in me, almost like the change in the atmosphere when the sky fills with rain clouds that are about to burst. The need would fill me and take me to a place where everything was reduced to sensations. Then as the intensity of the sensations built inside me, the feeling of vulnerability increased until I was sure that some part of me was freakishly wrong. I didn’t want to be looked at anymore. I didn’t want his eyes to be on me for another second, but by then it was too late.

  By then he would already be inside me, telling me how good I was and how sweet I was and all my brain could do at that point was scream, You don’t understand! I’m not good at all, Adrian! That’s when the memories would come. At least that’s what happened this last time when my mouth and the quivering felt out of control.

  When I think about it now it all seems so silly, being embarrassed of my lips quivering uncontrollably. But I don’t think the feelings had to do with my lips, or any other part of my body. I think that feeling had to do with something else. Something that had to do with a little girl disappearing into the darkness while she overheard her father telling her mother she wasn’t his daughter. That she didn’t belong to him.

  “Just give me fifteen minutes,” I said as I looked back up into those dark eyes. They were almost completely black now and they burned mercilessly into my soul, sending me almost gasping for breath as I twisted back toward the computer screen.

  “I’ll barely be able to contain myself until then,” Adrian said as he kissed the side of my head.

  As he started to walk back toward the door an image flashed in my brain that I couldn’t shake.

  “Adrian?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What was in that envelope? The one you brought back with you from your meeting with Grady.”

  “Nothing, it’s not important.”

  “Was that what you were looking for out on the deck last night?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what happened to it. Have you seen it?”

  “No. I remembered it for some reason. Does it have to do with me?”

  Adrian came back to the chair and wrapped his arms around my shoulders again, which sent another shock of tingles surging through my body.

  “It’s just some information I had Grady get for me. It’s nothing you need to worry about right now.”

  “Okay,” I said as I felt him slip away and out the door. I still had the feeling he was trying to protect me from something. Something more than men with guns.

  ADRIAN

  “Did you find anything out yet?”

  “No. I talked to your dad’s guys and a couple friends over here and I got nothing other than what we already know—that your dad has men out there looking for you.”

  “But do you have any idea where they are? No one knows anything?”

  “Sorry, Adrian, the only ones who have that kind of information would probably be your dad and possibly your brother and whoever is taking orders directly. And there’s no way I can get any closer to your dad.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I just can’t believe they found us again. And that means they know the general region we’re in, so even though there are tons of islands to dock at down here, they’re gonna have an easier time tracking us.”

  “There’s no way you can talk to Lucas?”

/>   “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know if I can trust him. He has a sick sense of humor I’ve never understood, and I could see him throwing me to my dad just to get a laugh out of it. And I know he’d love to get his hands on Brooklyn again.”

  “Wow, that’s harsh. I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll do everything I can to find out more. And you’re sure it’s only your father who has men out there looking for you?”

  “Well, that’s what I’m afraid of … it’s not just my father. All I really know is Brooklyn was supposed to be sold to some bigwig somewhere. I’m assuming someone in the business. But I don’t know who or where or anything about the transaction at all. I don’t know if he already paid my father or if he was okay with taking another girl. I don’t know if Lucas is in on it or if he is off doing his own thing right now. I don’t know a goddamned thing!”

  “All right, we’ll figure it out. I’ll see if the guys at the villa can ask around a little more. And you might want to consider contacting your brother. You don’t have to tell him where you are, but you might be able to get an idea of what’s going on by talking to him. Try to keep it together, Adrian. And maybe sleep with one eye open from now on.”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing. If only I could sleep with both eyes open,” I said with a dry laugh, but I didn’t find it funny at all. I was dead serious. “Okay, thanks, Grady. Talk to you later.”

  I disconnected the satellite phone and buried my face in my hands. As much as I wanted to look on the bright side with Grady, I just couldn’t. I had an overwhelmingly bad feeling about everything now. The fact that I didn’t know who was after us would not stop eating at me. It could be anyone in the world, and if they got their hands on her she would vanish into thin air.

  I would have no way of tracking her if she were to disappear. I had plenty of money for us to live off of, but most of the resources I’d had when I was working with my father were gone. All my contacts—gone. If someone took her I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking and I would have a whole fucking world of people who were working for my dad against me.

  I needed to make sure nothing happened to her, that no one got their hands on her because if that happened, if she slipped out of my fingers for one second, she would be gone. I was afraid I couldn’t trust myself to keep her safe anymore.

  “Are you okay, Adrian?”

  I turned and looked at the doorway to the master bedroom and there was Brooklyn, all small and cute, with her arms folded in front of her, her hands running up and down the sides of her arms. I knew she was more worried about me than she was about her own safety, and that thought killed me. She’d be much better off if I wasn’t in the picture anymore. Or if I had never been in the picture in the first place.

  “Yeah,” I said as I got up and walked over to her. “I was talking to Grady.”

  “Yeah, I heard. I guess he didn’t have any good news?”

  “Well, he didn’t find anything out. He thinks I should try and talk to Lucas.”

  “Are you going to?” she asked, her face growing even more worried.

  “I don’t know. But don’t worry, if I do he won’t be able to track our location. I have it set up so the satellite phone and internet are both untraceable.”

  “I’m not worried. I know you’ll keep us safe,” she said with a sweet little smile that curled up both sides of her beautiful mouth and just about broke my heart. I didn’t understand how she could trust me so completely after everything that had happened. After everything I’d done to her and continued to do to her.

  “I will,” I said as I held her head in my hands. “I’ll never stop, no matter what, until I know you’re completely safe.”

  “I couldn’t be any safer than in your arms, Adrian. I’ve always felt better with them wrapped around me. Even when we were at the villa.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just … I know you cry sometimes when … I mean … I know there are times when I’m hurting you and—”

  “I’m not ever crying because of you, Adrian.”

  “Why then? It breaks my heart after … when you’re lying in my arms after we’ve made love. The thought that you … that I was the one that made you cry. I hate myself because of it,” I said as I almost choked.

  It wasn’t the whole truth. I was talking to her but I couldn’t look her in the eye because I knew I was lying. There was a part of me that liked it. But that’s even a goddamned lie. I fucking loved it. I loved to watch her sexy little body squirm and I love to watch her blush and scream and cry about the things I asked her to do … and the things I did to her.

  That was the part of me that I had hoped I would leave behind when I was finally out of the shadow of my father and away from the caverns below the villa. The caverns where we kept the girls. I thought if I got far enough away from all of the horror and degradation that went on in that place that the feelings would fade away like a bad dream. But they didn’t stop.

  I still wanted to do the things I had done to the girls down in the caverns. Only now I wanted to do them to Brooklyn. I wanted to do things to her I couldn’t imagine anyone ever enjoying, and I hated myself for that. I didn’t know if she put up with it because she loved me or if she was afraid to say no.

  But no matter how hard I tried, the minute I looked into her eyes and saw her desire to please me, to do anything, anything, I asked of her, at that moment I would completely lose control.

  And it didn’t matter how remorseful I had been the days or weeks leading up, it didn’t matter that I swore I would never treat her like one of them again, it didn’t matter how much she cried and screamed. In that moment I wanted it more than anything.

  I wanted to see the humiliation in her face and to hear her sobs. I wanted to watch her do the things I asked her to do that I knew she didn’t want to do. That she would only do because I asked her. It made me so fucking hard I could barely see straight. And at that point, after she had demonstrated to me how much power I had over her, all I wanted was for her warm, soft lips to be wrapped around my cock.

  “Don’t,” she said as she touched my lips with the tips of her fingers. “Please don’t say that, Adrian. You don’t deserve that. No one deserves to be hated, especially by themselves.”

  “I would do anything for you, Brooklyn. Anything in the world. And if you want me to stop, I will.”

  She looked up into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. I was terrified she was going to tell me to stop, but I was even more terrified she was going to tell me not to.

  “I don’t want you to stop. Whatever you want, I want you to do it to me.”

  I closed my eyes and dropped my head down so it was resting on Brooklyn’s forehead. All I could think was that she was in as much danger with me than she would be if my father ever caught up with us.

  I didn’t ever start out wanting to hit her. I didn’t start out wanting to hurt her in any way. A lot of times when we made love it was incredibly intense and passionate, and that was all I needed. Sometimes things might get a little rough, but mostly we were happy to be intertwined in each other’s bodies.

  But other times something would set me off, a look or a sound or the feel of her flesh in my hands. I could never tell if it was her or me, because sometimes I swear the way she looked at me she was begging me with her eyes to smack her tits until they were raw while I shoved my cock down her throat.

  But something in me would change, like a light switch being thrown, and my hand would ache for her red, hot skin. And when I did, when I felt the heat of my hand slapping her ass and I felt the movement of her flesh under my palm, it was over. There was no turning back.

  “I want you to spread your legs wider, Brooklyn,” I said into her ear. She sucked in her breath sharply and I could feel her ass wiggle under my hard cock as it rested in the crack between her ass cheeks and she struggled to comply. I hovered over her and watched her from where I stood, then I he
ard a faint whine as her feet twisted and scooted across the surface, spreading her legs a fraction of an inch more.

  “Good girl,” I said as I brought my hand squarely down onto one of her ass cheeks. It was already beet red from the twenty or so times I had smacked it since she crawled up onto the bed and spread her legs for me. She let out a scream and gripped the comforter with both hands as her body stiffened under the blow.

  I barely remembered telling her to get into the position she was now in. After our conversation in the doorway, after she told me she wanted to do whatever I asked her to do, I told her to remove her clothes while I sat on a large, overstuffed chair in the bedroom and watched.

  I told her to stand in front of me and bend over, then I had her insert a plug into her asshole while I watched. It took her a few minutes, partly because she was incredibly embarrassed and partly because it was a large plug and it took while to work it in. The humiliation and the strain both made me incredibly hard, and I released my cock from my pants while I watched her struggle.

  She would work the plug in almost to its widest part over and over but would have to stop, and then the muscles of her sphincter would push it back out.

  “I don’t know if I can do it,” she said at one point, her voice small and shaky. But I didn’t let her stop. I told her I knew she could get it in. That I wanted her to, and she did.

  I stared at the view in front of me for a while: the large, round, jewel-encrusted end of the plug that took the place of Brooklyn’s tiny pink asshole. She stayed doubled over, her hands flat on the ground next to her feet, while I wrapped my hand around my cock and started stroking it.

  I told her to stack two pillows on the end of the bed and lie with her stomach on them and her legs spread wide, then I watched as she stood up and walked over to the bed and carefully followed my instructions.