Claiming My Sweet Captive

by Julia Sykes

  I nipped at the shell of her ear. “You can go back to your work tomorrow. I have plans for you tonight.”

  She drew in a shuddering breath, but she didn’t put her laptop away. “I thought you were working on a project today.”

  “I was,” I allowed.

  She thought I’d been working on our new home. I derived calm satisfaction from making custom additions to the house that had already existed on our private island. I was crafting kinky furniture for one particular room in our own personal, depraved haven. I’d never had the opportunity to build something with my own hands. Although my efforts were slow as I learned, it felt good to create rather than destroy.

  “Close the laptop,” I ordered, dropping my tone with warning. “Now, cosita.”

  She huffed out an exasperated breath, but her little tremor let me know she was as responsive to my dominance as ever. She saved her work and closed the laptop.

  “Good girl.” I kissed the top of her head. “Come. I got you a present.”

  I took her hand, and she followed me into our bedroom without question. The large windows were open, gauzy white curtains swaying in the warm breeze. Brilliant pink and orange painted the sky, giving us a picturesque view of the sunset over the water.

  It was beautiful, but not nearly as breathtaking as the perfect woman by my side. She wore a silky black robe—one of the only items of clothing I allowed her. She preferred to be covered while she was in “work mode,” so I’d bought her some pretty lingerie. Otherwise, I kept her stripped, so I could admire her at my leisure.

  Tonight, I did have something for her to wear. I released her hand and gestured to the large white box on our bed. It was wrapped in a pale blue ribbon, which I’d thought was appropriate for the occasion.

  “Open it,” I ordered.

  She hastened to comply, a delighted grin illuminating her delicate features. Samantha loved presents, and I relished showering her with gifts. I’d give her anything she desired, just to see her heart-stopping smile.

  “What’s this?” she asked as she pulled the white dress from the box. It was long enough to cover her entire body down to her toes, and the high neck and long sleeves appeared demure. When she held it up in both hands, her eyes widened. The garment was crafted of delicate lace, without any lining beneath. It wouldn’t hide her from my covetous eyes.

  “It’s your wedding dress,” I told her, my voice rough with something more than carnal hunger.

  Her pale eyes lit up, but her jaw was slack when she turned to face me. “What?” she asked faintly.

  I traced the curve of her cheek and rubbed my thumb over her parted lips. “We can’t make it official legally, but we’re going to have a ceremony.”

  “Andrés, I…” She swallowed and trailed off.

  I couldn’t read her reaction, so I issued a command. “You’re going to be my wife.”

  She placed her hand over mine where it rested against her cheek, leaning into my touch. “Yes,” she answered, even though I hadn’t asked a question.

  Samantha was mine, and I’d tie her to me in every way possible.

  I brushed a kiss over her lips. “Good girl. Get dressed and meet me outside.”

  I already wore my slacks and crisp white shirt. In the last two months, I’d become accustomed to more casual clothes—it was far too hot on the island to wear my customary suits. Besides, there was no one here I needed to intimidate by enhancing my aura of power. The only person I craved to control was Samantha, and she ceded to my power willingly, giving herself to me completely.

  In a few short minutes, I’d possess her in a new way. I didn’t need a legal document to tell me that Samantha belonged to me, but I wanted to vow to her that I’d always keep and protect her.

  I stepped onto our porch, which extended out to the edge of the beach. I’d lit torches and driven them into the sand, adding soft illumination in the waning light of the setting sun. Flowers were scattered along the wooden floorboards, waiting to cushion Samantha’s bare feet as she processed the short distance toward me.

  There would be no witnesses to our union, but we didn’t need any. I wouldn’t allow anyone to look at Samantha in her pretty wedding dress. This moment was just for me. For us.

  When she stepped into the open doorway, my breath stuck in my lungs. The white lace hugged her body, covering her completely while revealing everything to my hungry gaze. I could clearly see the curve of her breasts, her tight pink nipples peeking through the sheer fabric. Her pussy was a little more concealed, but the teasing glimpses of her pale flesh made my mouth water.

  Her copper hair shined as it caught the light from the torches, reflecting their fiery glow. The pretty flush on her freckled cheeks reminded me of her innocence. Somehow, she’d managed to maintain it despite the perverted things I did to her body.

  I held out my hand, beckoning. She closed the distance between us, moving gracefully as she glided toward me. Her glowing aquamarine eyes filled my world when she stood before me and took both my hands in hers.

  “I love you, Andrés,” she murmured, going up onto her toes to press a sweet kiss against my scarred cheek. “This is perfect.”

  “You’re perfect. Te amo, mí sirenita,” I swore.

  A melodic giggle bubbled from her throat. “So, what are we going to do?” she asked, curious rather than teasing. “Is there a cake to cut or something?”

  “What we’re going to do is say our vows,” I told her. “Then, I’m going to rip this dress off you and fuck you senseless, until you scream for mercy.”

  She shivered, but her delighted smile didn’t falter. She didn’t fear me in the slightest. I still gave her pain with her pleasure, still demanded her tears when I needed to soothe the darkness inside me. But she wasn’t afraid of me. By some miracle, this perfect creature desired me, almost as desperately as I needed her.

  “I guess I’ll go first,” she offered.

  I nodded, giving her permission to continue. My heart squeezed, then beat faster in anticipation of her declaration of devotion.

  She stared up at me, her eyes shining. “I need you, Andrés. I mean, I know we had a weird start and all, but that doesn’t change how I feel. I didn’t know what it meant to really be happy before you. I was always anxious and—let’s be honest—pretty awkward. I guess I’m still kind of awkward. But you make me better. I’m not anxious when I’m around you. I’m not scared. You make me feel safe. You make me feel loved and cherished. I love you, and I’m never going to leave you. I won’t let anything separate us. I’m yours.”

  By the time the rapid-fire words stopped spilling from her lips, a wide grin twisted my scar deep into my face. She wasn’t repulsed at the sight of me. She looked at me like I was her world.

  I cupped her cheek in my hand, threading my fingers through her silky hair. “Samantha,” her name came out on a rasp. I took a breath and tried again, getting my surge of emotion under control. “I don’t know how to exist without you. I’m going to keep you with me always, no matter what. You’re mine, but I belong to you, too. Body, heart, and soul. I’m yours.”

  My vows were more concise than hers, but I mirrored her final words, promising her a lifetime of love and protection.

  She beamed up at me. “Are we married now?”

  “Now and forever, my sweet Samantha.”

  My fingers tightened in her hair, trapping her in place so I could claim her lips with mine. She opened for me, her low moan rolling into my mouth. The needy sound made my own arousal stir, and my cock stiffened against her hip.

  Wasting no time on following through with my wicked promise, I fisted her lace dress in both hands and ripped it apart. The delicate material shredded, fully exposing her breasts and pussy. I palmed her cunt, running my fingers through the wetness that soaked her labia.

  She gasped and shuddered, and I growled against her lips.

  Unwilling to wait a second longer, I tossed her over my shoulder and carried her into the bedroom. A giggle burst from
her chest as her body draped docilely against my much larger frame. She didn’t fight or shriek for me to release her.

  But she would be screaming my name in a few minutes.

  I dropped her on the bed, the soft mattress cushioning her fall. She laughed, thrilled at my harsh treatment. The tattered remnants of her dress pooled on the sheets at her sides, framing her lithe body like an offering. My pretty, perverted, perfect bride.

  I quickly stripped off my clothes and settled my weight over her, lining my cock up with her slick opening.

  “My birth control shot might not be effective anymore, you know.” Her voice was breathy, and I wasn’t certain if she was warning me not to come inside her.

  “I know,” I replied evenly.

  She blinked. “You haven’t given me another one.”

  “I haven’t.”

  Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a small gasp. “You’re not going to, are you?”

  “No,” I growled, thrusting into her.

  She cried out and wrapped her legs around my waist, digging her heels into my ass to pull me deeper. “Good,” she panted. “I don’t want you to.”

  I pulled back and slammed into her again, taking her with brutal force. She wanted me. She wanted to have a child with me.

  Possessive hunger surged through me, and I fucked her with primal, ruthless strokes. She rocked her hips against me, welcoming my claim.

  “Andrés!” she screamed my name, her inner muscles contracting around me as she came undone. I followed her on a rough shout, my heat lashing into her.

  I spilled my seed deep inside her, sealing our fate, our future.

  My Samantha.

  My baby.

  My family.

  All mine.

  The End

  * * *

  What happened to Andrés’ sister, Valentina? Read the prequel about her forbidden young love with Adrián in Stolen Innocence. Ready to get right to their tumultuous reunion as adults?

  Get her dark romance in Stealing Beauty…

  * * *

  Valentina was brought into my home when we were teenagers, her virgin body sold to my father to pay a debt. She was meant to be his plaything, but I claimed her innocence for myself.

  * * *

  My father discovered us together, and he exiled me from Colombia to America, where I was commanded to run his cocaine empire on the west coast. I bided my time, consolidating power until the day I was strong enough to take my Valentina.

  * * *

  I'd been consumed with plans to rescue her, but she didn't wait for me. She fell in love with another man, and I loathe her for that.

  * * *

  My hatred doesn't stop me from stealing her back for myself. Valentina will fight me, but she doesn't realize that the cruelly possessive boy she used to love has grown into a sadistic man. Her cries for mercy will only feed my obsession and my burning desire to punish her for daring to love someone else.

  * * *

  Valentina has always belonged to me. I will make her mine, whether she wants it or not. I will own her forever, body and soul.

  * * *

  Turn the page for an extended excerpt…

  Stealing Beauty Excerpt

  Pale green eyes sliced into my chest, their cutting gaze keener than I remembered. They practically glowed as he glowered at me from across the church: a panther deciding whether his prey was worth bothering with the hunt. His full lips curled in a sneer, those beautiful, terrifying eyes scanning my body.

  Whatever he saw in me, he decided I wasn’t worth his time. He blinked and looked away, his attention turning back to the stunning blonde draped on his arm.

  I sucked in a gasp, remembering how to breathe. My fingers trembled at my sides as a hit of adrenaline surged through my system.

  I’d known Adrián would be here. I’d told myself I was ready to face him. I’d told myself that I’d be able to mask my ire and put on the pretty, pleasant smile that was expected of me.

  But I hadn’t been prepared for the hatred in his burning stare. Ten long years had passed since I’d last looked into those hypnotic green eyes. Once, they’d shined with devotion when he looked at me.

  Now, it seemed he loathed me as much as I despised him.

  I collected my wits, clenching my fists at my sides to still my shaking fingers. My perfectly manicured nails bit into my palms, but I welcomed the little flare of pain. It helped ground me. Pain reminded me of my role, my duties.

  I’d receive a lot more of it if I didn’t play my part perfectly: devoted wife to Hugo Sánchez, the second most powerful man in Bogotá.

  The most powerful man, Vicente Rodríguez, was the reason I was here, participating in this farce.

  A visible shiver raced through the young woman—barely more than a girl—who stood at the altar. Camila Gómez had the misfortune of catching Vicente’s eye a year ago. The eighteen-year-old had gotten pregnant, giving him a son. He’d decided to force her into this marriage to ensure the boy’s legitimacy. A secondary heir to his cocaine empire, in case something were to happen to Adrián.

  Adrián Rodríguez. I could hardly believe the boy I’d loved all those years ago had turned into the hard, frightening man who’d taken his place in the church pew behind me. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel his cruel glare on my back. It made my skin pebble with a prey’s awareness, my body instinctively sensing the threat.

  For the last decade, he’d been in America, consolidating the power of his father’s cartel in California. I’d never expected to see him again, but Vicente’s wedding to poor Camila had brought the prodigal son home to Colombia.

  The girl’s petite frame appeared smaller than ever as she shrank in Vicente’s shadow. He’d waited long enough for her slender body to return to its youthful perfection after she’d given birth—no doubt, she was kept on a careful regimen to ensure her beauty for this day.

  I was far too familiar with the practice: the restricted diet and proscribed exercise to keep my natural curves just the right size to please my husband. Mercifully, Hugo stood at Vicente’s side rather than mine. As Vicente’s lapdog, Hugo was a natural choice to play the part of best man at this sham wedding.

  My husband’s beady black eyes fixed on me, and his thin lips curved into a malicious smile. An involuntary shudder wracked my body. He’d looked at me with the exact same expression ten years ago, when I’d been the one in the pretty white dress, forced to the altar against my will. I was only sixteen at the time, but Hugo hadn’t minded being wedded to a child. He’d waited too long for his turn with me to care.

  And as my guardian, Vicente had given me away to his best friend, gifting me to him in exchange for his years of loyalty.

  I could hardly bear to look at either of the disgusting, lecherous men. Somehow, I lifted my chin and straightened my spine. I couldn’t allow anyone in the church to sense that my fear-drenched memories of my wedding night were playing through my mind.

  Hugo delighted in my fear, but he also expected me to maintain the façade of perfect, loving wife when we were in public. He might be short and stocky, but his rounded belly didn’t diminish his strength. His thinning black hair and ruddy cheeks were showing the signs of his age, but the years hadn’t caused him to grow frail. He was as brutal as he’d been on the day I’d met him, when I was fourteen years old.

  I plastered on a beatific smile, meeting my husband’s gaze. To any casual observer, I’d appear to be staring at him with love and devotion, remembering the false joy of our own wedding day.

  Camila’s palpable terror made the dark memories I kept locked at the back of my mind push to the forefront. I shoved them away before I gagged. A metallic tang coated my tongue, and I realized I’d bitten the inside of my cheek.

  The ceremony passed by in a blur. I drew in deep breaths to suppress my rising nausea. When the priest pronounced Vicente and Camila husband and wife, I managed a wide smile. My eyes watered with empathy for the girl, but I’d be able to pass it off as t
ears of joy.

  I followed the stream of guests as we exited the white and gold opulence of the basilica, stepping out into the heavy dusk heat. Hugo waited by the black limo outside the church, gesturing that I should get in the car. Vicente and Camila were already in their vintage Rolls-Royce, which would take them to the reception space: an imposing, historic castillo located outside Bogotá.

  I smiled at my husband and took his hand, allowing him to help me slide into the back seat. He settled in beside me, pressing his doughy body close to mine. The sickening scent of his amber cologne mingling with his sweat washed over me. I’d become accustomed to it over the years, but today, the overpowering reek made me want to retch.

  Seconds later, my nausea intensified. My gut lurched as Adrián got into the limo, his stunning blonde date sliding into place at his side. Her dark eyebrows didn’t match her platinum locks, but the obvious dye job didn’t diminish her beauty.

  I couldn’t focus on her, though. My eyes locked on Adrián’s burning green stare.

  My breath caught, and my pretty smile melted.

  Hugo’s meaty hand rested on my thigh, high enough to be indecent in front of strangers.

  But Adrián wasn’t a stranger. He was a ghost from my past. A horrifying apparition that appeared all too corporeal. His massive body filled the space, his bulk obvious even beneath his sharply-tailored black suit.

  I could feel Hugo’s hot breath on my face before he pressed a wet, stomach-turning kiss against my cheek. “Are you all right, cariña?”

  Adrián’s nostrils flared, his full lips thinning. His square jaw hardened to granite, and his high cheekbones appeared sharper than ever.