Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  There were more soft velvet cuffs that met my skin, this time wrapping and locking around my ankles. My chest was rising and falling, my insides about to explode with feelings that were alien to me, but every part of me relished it, loved it…craved it.

  “If only you could see yourself now, you would realize you were born to look this fucking good.” His voice was dark with hunger, a low rumble of sexual ravening.

  A soft finger traced around the swell of my breast, a warm breath skidding across the skin of my neck. “If I should touch you between your legs right now, Tatum, what would I find?”

  I didn’t answer. His touch was consuming my body, my mind, affecting my capability to form any coherent thought or answer.

  He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back, my scalp stinging with the force. “Answer me.”

  “Wet. I’m wet…sir.” My answer came out with a huff, and he immediately let go of my hair.

  I felt him move around me, and I shuddered when he took my bound wrists in his hand.

  “If you’re wet now, Tatum, you’re going to be soaked by the time I’m done with you.”

  Slowly, he lifted my arms. The more he pulled my arms up, the more my shoulders started to ache in protest, leaving me no choice but to bend forward. I was bent in such a way that my ass was in the air, with my legs spread wide, my most vulnerable parts exposed. The thought of him watching me like this turned me the fuck on. It was insane, but I liked the idea of him seeing me in such a sexually vulnerable position. It was exhilarating.

  There was another click, and his hands left my wrists, but my arms stayed in place, lifted above my back.

  “Now I don’t have to touch your pussy to know how wet you are…I can see it.”

  The thought of him looking at me, staring at me from behind sent a new wave of desire crashing through every bone in my body. I was bound, exposed, and completely vulnerable to the one man who wanted to destroy me, yet right now that knowledge only added to the thrill of it all. It only made me feel more helpless, more at risk, but I’d never wanted anything more.

  Suddenly, there was a tug on my neck, forcing me to bend more. The back of my legs stretched to a point of pain, my shoulders aching, every muscle in my back and neck pulled tight. Another clip and I was secured in place.

  “Now you can’t run from me, little mouse. You are completely at my mercy, not knowing what I’m about to do to you. And the best part, you can’t do shit about it. You can’t run, you can’t hide. All you can do is stand there and fucking take it.”

  He shuffled, and I heard the sound of a zipper. The idea that he was naked too, stalking around me, staring at me, harboring impure thoughts about me and my body had everything clenching tight between my legs.

  “Does it hurt?”

  I sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, do you remember when you told me that I was wrong about you craving pain and that you couldn’t handle Vico’s lashes?” His fingers slowly moved along my back, caressing my skin softly, and I imagined he was tracing the marks Vico’s cruelty had left on my skin.

  Cold spread like ice through my spine as the memories of pain and humiliation bombarded my mind. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Do you remember my answer, little mouse?”

  I tried to nod, only to realize I couldn’t even move my head without pulling the muscles in my shoulders. “Yes. You said my body didn’t respond to him.”

  “Why?”

  I swallowed. “Because he wasn’t the one.”

  “And what else did I tell you?”

  “That my need for pain, for pleasure, is rooted to my deepest, darkest desires and that it can’t be met by just anyone.”

  He placed a palm against my ass, rubbing lightly, the sensation spreading across my skin in waves. “Good girl. Now tell me, Tatum, who has the power to meet your deepest, darkest desires?”

  There was no hesitation in my answer because it was the undeniable truth. “You.”

  I heard him groan behind me. “That’s fucking right, little mouse. I have that power. No one else, just me.”

  His hand dipped down and brushed against my wet, exposed lips, his touch making me shudder with delight. And then his touch was gone. My hips tried to move in search for more, but pain radiated up my back and into my shoulders because of the movement, and I forced my greedy body to remain still.

  A low, dark chuckle rumbled from behind me. “You are not in control, Tatum. I own your pleasure tonight.”

  Something was being eased across my skin, something that felt like a whip, and I instantly stiffened.

  “Shhh, you don’t have to be afraid of my whip, Tatum. Vico’s whip was controlled by his anger, his greed, his need to punish.” He traced the whip back down my spine, circling my ass. “My whip is controlled by my need to give you pleasure, to see you succumb to those desires that haunt you. Surrender your body to me and let go of your fears.”

  I heard the whip cut through the air, but it was too late to even try to brace myself for impact. The whip landed hard and hot across my ass, the force of the strike letting me move forward, my shoulders burning as it stretched further while the chains ruthlessly kept me in place. When the second lash struck across my upper thighs, I was prepared, forcing my body to remain still, to soak up the pain that seared my flesh.

  His fingers moved through my slit, and I moaned, suppressing the need to push my hips out in order to give him more access.

  “Does that feel the same? Does the pain from my whip feel the same as Vico’s?”

  My God. It didn’t feel the same at all. In fact, it couldn’t have been more different. My body wanted this, craved more. Even though every part of me ached in the position I was in, I needed so much more.

  “Do you still think you can’t handle the pain, Tatum?”

  Another lash, more stinging of flesh, and I cried out, “Yes, I can handle it.”

  A finger entered me, his thumb stroking my sensitive flesh. The cries and the moans that rolled out of my mouth were uncontrollable as my body shuddered around his finger.

  “Good God, Tatum. I could look at you like this all day. Unfortunately for us both, this isn’t a kind of position you can hold for long.”

  “I can.” The words just came out. The thought of him stopping this was incomprehensible at this moment. “Don’t stop,” I begged through rapid breathing. “Not yet. Please don’t stop…sir.”

  “Fuck me,” he moaned. “If it were up to me, I’d leave you like this all goddamn night. If you can handle more, I’ll give you more. But you don’t have a safe word, Tatum, and I don’t plan on giving you one.”

  “I can handle it.” There was no doubt in my mind. “Push me to my limits, show me what you can do to me…please.”

  “Jesus Christ, you crazy, perfect, fucking woman.”

  Another lash…and another…and another. He was concentrating on my ass and thighs, never once touching my back with his whip. It was like he knew my back had recently become a hard limit for me. But this, with him, I could handle. The fact that I could keep my body still and endure the pain was feeding my will to go farther, to get pushed harder. I’d never felt more empowered, even though I was the one bound and vulnerable.

  Another lash of the whip, this time landing across my outer lips, the sting burning and aching straight to my core, yet I cried out with sheer pleasure.

  “Your skin is the most beautiful canvas of pinks and reds, Tatum.” He struck me again, then rubbed the whip between my legs, coating the leather with my arousal. “You’re like my own goddamn masterpiece.” The tip pushed against my clit, and I felt the pressure build and build inside me, threatening to erupt and shatter me into pieces.

  “Oh no. Not yet, little mouse. The only way you’re coming is with my cock inside you.” The whip was gone, leaving me aching and panting for more. Once again, he had pushed me past the point of no return, and there was no going back now…not until my body got what it wanted.

  One more s
trike echoed around us, and this time I screamed as the pain seared and singed my skin. I was out of breath, my body aching in places I never even knew I had. His fingers invaded my body again, pumping in and out, forcing me hard and fast to the edge of release.

  “Listen to me, Tatum. I’m going to fuck you now, but you need to keep very still. Do you understand? Do not fucking move.”

  “Yes.” I could hardly hear my own voice as exhaustion started to set in.

  Strong hands gripped my hips, keeping me in place. My body readied itself to be taken, to be filled to the brim, my mind nothing but thoughts of pleasure and ecstasy.

  I felt the tip of his cock nudge against my entrance, and already soft moans were leaking out of my mouth like gentle pleas to be satiated.

  Slowly, gently, he eased inside me, careful not to rock me forward too much. More and more he pushed and stretched, my body wrapping around him, welcoming him, until he was buried inside me to the hilt.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Tatum.” He growled behind me. “I can feel how much your body wants me inside you.”

  Carefully, he eased out, then back in, the slow, leisurely stroke of his cock making me feel every inch of him, letting me experience every ounce of pleasure. It was so strong, so intense, that tears threatened to erupt because my soul couldn’t handle the power or the passion that flowed through him and into me. It was such a delicate yet strong delight, how perfectly he fit inside me, how impossibly satisfying it was to let him take me, use me…consume me.

  One of his hands let go of my hip and moved up my spine. “This…you are too much, Tatum. Your body is challenging my self-control, provoking the selfish beast in me. I need to move faster.” He pulled out. “Tell me you can handle whatever the fuck I give you.” And then with one hard thrust, he was inside me again. “Tell me, Tatum!”

  “Oh God, yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

  And then the beast was unleashed.

  Gripping both my hips painfully, his fingers piercing my skin to try to keep me still, he started to pound into me. Faster and faster he pumped, his cock going deeper and deeper. Our bodies slapped together, sweat mixed with arousal pooling between our bodies. It was a fucking war, the battle of bodies trying to push each other over the edge with ruthless delight.

  “You never answered my question, Tatum.” More relentless thrusting, more hard pounding of flesh against flesh. “Did my brother fuck you the way you needed to be fucked?”

  “Jesus, Castello.”

  “Answer me!” His palm hit my ass, and I jerked forward, an ache shooting up my arms, my shoulders screaming in pain.

  “No!”

  Then every ounce of pain radiating throughout my body crashed between my legs, threatening to erupt all the built-up pressure in an explosion of carnal decadence.

  “He didn’t,” I cried out. “Carlo didn’t fuck me the way I needed it…but you do. You. Fucking. Do.”

  Castello cursed and roared behind me, crying out, “Tu mi hai rovinato.” You have ruined me.

  My body shuddered as every nerve exploded into fragments of pleasure. We came together, his jerks working in unison with the throbbing inside my core as we splintered into pieces. Our loud moans slammed against his bedroom walls, filling the air with our labored breathing.

  He didn’t stop flexing, thrusting in and out of me until the last tremors of our orgasms left our bodies, and even then, there seemed to linger a kind of pleasure inside my veins that didn’t dissipate.

  I felt him pull out, my body immediately mourning the loss. The blindfold was pulled off, and he started with the collar around my neck, taking it off before un-clicking my wrists from the bonds that were hanging from the ceiling.

  Slowly, gently, he eased my arms down, my shoulders complaining from a stiff ache that made it impossible to lower my arms fast.

  The second I stood upright, my legs buckled. My body was limp and numb with exertion and pleasure. Never in my life had I felt this satiated, this satisfied…and fucking high.

  Castello swept me up in his arms, stopping me from collapsing to the ground in a puddle of twisted pleasure. The chains were still bound around my wrists and my ankles as he carried me over to the bed that stood proudly in the middle of his bedroom.

  I moaned as my body welcomed the soft feel of the sheets beneath my skin.

  “Rest, bella,” he whispered while untying the other chains. The second I closed my eyes, my body drifted as aftershocks of my release still pulsed through my veins. I felt him ease my legs apart, softly rubbing a warm towel between my thighs.

  I moaned, nuzzling my cheek deeper into the pillow. Strong yet caring hands rubbed over the now-tender flesh of my ass, the cooling effect of the salve feeling like heaven against my skin. The way his touch caressed my body, it was like sex after sex, the most amazing feeling I had ever felt. He was so hard on my body, showing no mercy—yet here he was with his soft caresses as if he was now worshipping it.

  My breathing slowed, my body relaxed, and I knew sleep was here to claim me. The mattress dipped behind me.

  “Tu mi hai rovinato, donna.”

  I smiled as the Italian words left my mouth in a whisper. “Mi hai liberato.”

  You set me free.

  Chapter 20

  Castello

  Something was happening, and I didn’t have a clue what. All I knew was that it scared the shit out of me. Tatum Linscott was sleeping in my bed, and by God, she had never looked more beautiful. For months I tracked her, had her followed, kept tabs on her, and she’d been my captive for how long now? But I’d never seen her look as stunning as she did now with her golden hair splayed over my silk sheets. Lying on her stomach with her arms tucked underneath the pillow, she seemed relaxed, like she was actually sleeping peacefully. How was that even possible for her to seem so peaceful when she’d been surrounded by nothing but fear and lies and promises of pain and death? Yet here she was, sleeping like a goddamn angel.

  On the other hand, I was everything but peaceful. There was this gnawing feeling on the inside of my chest, the same word echoing through my mind.

  Protect.

  Protect.

  Protect.

  Every one of my thoughts contained that damn word. How did I go from thinking the word “kill” to thinking the word “protect” whenever I thought of her? Just because I fucked her didn’t mean she now magically fell under my protection, that I owed her anything. I was still the man I was when Vico brought her in. I was still the man whose mission was to get revenge and make sure my brother’s murder didn’t go unpunished.

  Yet while I listened to her slow, rhythmic breathing next to me, I had the overwhelming urge to wrap her in my arms and fuck up anyone who tried to get near her.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  With a heavy sigh, I got out of bed before I acted on this ridiculous urge by wrapping my arms around her like some scene out of a goddamn romance novel. God knew this wasn’t a romance.

  Deciding I needed a shower to try to wash away all these unwelcome feelings that had no place inside my chest or head, I locked myself in the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, the side of my face without the scar—the side that looked like a goddamn blueprint of my twin brother. We were as identical as twins could be, and up until the day I got that scar, only our parents could distinguish between the two of us. No one got close enough to notice my elongated pupil, something my brother didn’t have. We were the same, until the fight happened.

  My twin brother had the tendency to go after things he couldn’t have, including women, which meant they usually belonged to someone else. Unfortunately, I got mistaken for my brother and had to take the beating in the form of a beer bottle to the side of my face. I was lucky I didn’t lose my eye. Since then, my brother and I could have been told apart simply by looking for the brother with the scarred eye.

  Turning toward the mirror, I stared at my full reflection. Did Tatum see my scar? Or did she see
my brother whenever she looked at me? How in love with Carlo was she, really? How long had they been together? Did she tell him she loved him? Did he tell her he loved her?

  Oh my God, I was going out of my fucking mind.

  I turned on the shower and got in. Naturally, the second I felt the water cascade over me, my mind drifted to when Tatum was in here with me. Her slippery body moving against mine, her wet pussy riding my fingers like her fucking life depended on it. And it seemed like the more I had her, experienced her, the more I wanted her. In no time at all, she had managed to make me doubt everything, stirred up all these questions for which I’d never wanted answers before.

  Why did it suddenly seem like I wanted her more than I wanted revenge? How was it possible that I no longer had this deep-rooted need to avenge my brother’s death, but instead that need was replaced with a desire to claim her over and over again?

  “Fuck!” I slammed my fist against the tiled wall. There was no pain. Just the ache still eating my chest from the inside out. What the fuck was I supposed to do now? How could I still kill this woman when my body demanded I keep her?

  I got out of the shower and glanced at my reflection one last time while towel drying my hair.

  Did I really want to risk everything for a woman who might not even be seeing me but rather the brother who looked like me? Was it really worth it, to take that chance, to sacrifice everything? What if I had it all wrong about her, that she was only playing me—playing the role I wanted her to play in order to save herself? I’d look like a fool.

  I sighed. The real issue wasn’t whether she trusted me—which she didn’t—but whether I trusted her—which I didn’t. In other words, I was damned if did and completely fucked if I didn’t.

  Feeling like I had the world, the heavens, and Hell on my shoulders, I walked out of the bathroom but then balked.

  The bed was empty.

  Fuck!