by Zoe Blake
“You know. Because she’s so small and quiet. You barely know she’s there half the time. And with her boring brown hair, she looks just like a plain little mouse.”
My jaw tightened. I didn’t need to hear more to realize how this woman probably treated my Emma.
And she was my Emma now.
I couldn’t believe that until yesterday, this creature would have been just my type. Haughty and self-absorbed, always with the perfect manicure, styled hair, and heavy perfume.
Now I found the image stifling and uninspired.
“Where can I find… Mouse?”
“Oh, she’s not here. She’s in the stacks.”
“The stacks?”
The woman nodded. “Over in the Sullivan Center just a few blocks south. Down in the basement. It’s where the library stores older material. We usually send her there to dig up the materials requested by professors and other students.”
Translation, they usually sent the shy co-worker unlikely to stand up for herself or complain to do the thankless grunt work.
My right hand curled into a fist. The sound of my knuckles cracking echoed around the quiet room.
As I turned to leave, she grabbed onto my sleeve. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”
I glowered at her until she removed her hand. “Quite sure.”
Dusk had already fallen as I pulled open the heavy glass door to the Sullivan Center.
After a few more inquiries, I finally made my way down a darkened staircase to the basement level. The low-ceilinged, windowless room seemed to stretch for miles. Heavy metal book stacks reached from floor to ceiling. Several were slammed in together, requiring you to turn a big wheel at the end to move them just enough to squeeze between them into a dark narrow aisle.
The only sound was a low, annoying buzz from the overhead strips of fluorescent lighting. The entire room was dim since only every other strip was lit.
I rubbed my jaw as I inhaled a long, slow breath through my nose.
Trying to calm myself down.
It raised the hackles on the back of my neck. Decades of instinct came to the fore. I didn’t give a fuck that I was in a building in the middle of the campus at a busy, popular university. I knew a dangerous room when I saw one. No windows. Deep below ground. Limited lighting. Only a single entry point. Anyone could trap her down here for an eternity and no one would hear her scream.
The idea she routinely put herself in this level of danger made my blood boil.
First knocking on a strange man’s door, and now this?
It was obvious someone needed to take this woman in hand.
Reaching down to the two buttons on my single-breasted suit, I undid them and slipped out of the jacket, tossing it over a cart filled with books that had been abandoned near the entrance. Twisting off my cufflinks, I put them in my pocket before rolling up my sleeves.
Then I went on the hunt.
Walking down the main aisle, I shifted my head from right to left, peering down the narrow, darkened pathways between the stacks. As I approached the end of the room, I could hear the soft shuffle of papers.
Placing my hands high on either side of a narrow aisle between two stacks, I stared at Emma as she reached for a book on a tall shelf. Completely oblivious to the danger she was now in.
Similar to last night, she was wearing a schoolgirl outfit with a pleated plaid skirt and cute navy blue sweater. This time her beautiful hair was combed back into a loose ponytail that hung down her back. As she stretched up on her toes, the skirt rode up high on her thighs.
“Hello, Emma.”
Startled, she turned to face me. The small stack of books she was holding crashed to the floor.
“Oh, my God!”
My eyebrow rose. “Close, but most people call me Dimitri.”
She fell to her knees and scrambled to pick up the discarded books. Refusing to raise her head, she asked, “How did you… how did you find me?”
I took several steps deeper into the darkness before stopping in front of her. Feet spread, my hands on my hips, I glared down at her kneeling form.
She looked up. Her pretty mouth opened on a shocked gasp as she gazed straight at my swelling cock.
Reaching down, I grasped her silky ponytail and slowly wound the long strands around my fist. I forced her to shuffle forward on her knees till I could feel her hot breath against the thin fabric of my suit trousers.
“You were a naughty girl to run away from me like that last night. I wasn’t finished with you.”
Chapter 7
I must have you for my own—entirely my own.
- Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Emma
“I wasn’t sure I could swallow.”
His eyebrow rose at my unintended sexual innuendo as his fist tightened in my hair. Despite my increasing embarrassment, I could not tear my gaze away from the growing bulge in his pants.
“A bite! I… I… meant I wasn’t very hungry and was sure I couldn’t swallow a bite, so I left.” I quickly straightened my bangs and yanked on the collar of my sweater.
What a pathetic lie! The sardonic twist of his lips proved he didn’t believe a word I had just said.
Desperate to put some distance between him and me, I shifted my body back, ignoring the sting against my scalp as his tight grip pulled on my hair. I reached up to grasp my ponytail at the base and after a moment he finally released it. I scooted a few feet on my ass till I could rise with what little dignity I still possessed.
Reaching down, I picked up the stack of books I had dropped and turned my attention to the shelves. Irrationally thinking if I ignored him, maybe he would go away. Other women might be better at this sort of thing, but I did not have the skill set to handle a man like him. I knew when I was out of my depth and right now I was drowning in some seriously deep, shark-infested waters.
I could feel the heat of his gaze on me.
With shaking hands, I shoved the books onto the shelves, paying no attention to their proper Library of Congress placement.
Suddenly his arm snatched my left wrist as he yanked me toward him. Unable to stop the momentum, I slammed into his chest.
He was just so… big.
Everything… and I mean everything… about him was so… big!
I wouldn’t have thought he could look more intimidating than he had last night with his naked chest, crazy muscles, and ominous tattoos on display, but somehow seeing him in a clearly very expensive suit was even more intimidating. It made him look both big and powerful, which was yet another reason he was way out of my league, as if that hadn’t already been made clear to me last night.
Shy librarian students like me didn’t attract the attention of rich, influential men like him.
The weight of his arm wrapped securely around my waist as he lifted my left arm high. The pad of his thumb caressed the sensitive inner skin of my wrist, sending delicious shockwaves to my stomach and lower.
His voice was a low growl. “What the hell is this, Emma?”
Eyes wide, I looked from his hand ensnaring my wrist back to his face. His eyes narrowed and there was a small tic high on his right cheek. He was suddenly angry… very angry… and I could not understand why.
Nervously clearing my throat, I asked, “What do you mean?”
He lifted my wrist higher. “This! What the hell is this? Who marked you? Tell me his name.”
Realization dawned.
It had taken a moment to realize he was talking about my tattoo. “Oh! You mean the numbers?”
His answer came through clenched teeth. “Yes, baby. The numbers on your wrist. The fucking brand. Who did it?”
Brand?
It was 822.33 Q1, written in tiny typeface in purple. My one spark of rebellion in my teenage years. I knew from the news that sex traffickers often tattooed their victims with barcodes and numbers. He must think…. Oh, for heaven’s sake!
“It’s not what you think! It’s the Dewey Decimal call number for Shak
espeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.”
He did not seem convinced. His slate-grey eyes were hard and cold as he continued to glare down at me. And he did have to stare way down at me from a rather towering height. Fuck, he was tall!
“You see, Shakespeare is the only author afforded the honor of his own Dewey Decimal call number, 822.33. It’s kind of a big deal if you think about all the brilliant authors there have been over the course of history. And the Q1 is for Much Ado About Nothing, my favorite of his plays. I just love how Beatrice…”
Dimitri pivoted, pinning me against the heavy bookshelves.
I could feel every inch of him along my frame, especially the intimidating ten inches pressed against my stomach.
His hand caressed the curve of my waist before cupping the underside of my right breast. All reason fled. My head swam. It was like someone had sucked all the air in the room into a void. Every nerve in my body fired off sparks.
Dipping his head, he nuzzled my neck while he murmured something in Russian.
“Боже мой, ты станешь моей смертью.”
It sounded like Bozhe moy, ty stanesh’ moyey smert’yu. I would have to remember to Google it later. Somehow I didn’t think he was in the mood for a quick language lesson. All I knew now was it sounded sexy as hell, whatever he was saying. There was something so dark and decadent about the Russian language, especially when he spoke it.
Releasing my wrist, his fingers wrapped around my neck, forcing my head back.
“You and I will have to come to an understanding.” His other hand punctuated his words, giving my breast a threatening squeeze as his thigh pressed between my legs, opening them.
I swallowed, feeling the press of his hand against my throat as I did so. My fingers splayed out along the books behind me, feeling the worn leather spines against my fingertips as I was forced to rise on my toes. My entire body now felt suspended within his grasp as my sensitive core pressed against the top of his thigh.
“There will be certain rules you will need to follow.”
“Rules?”
He unbuttoned the first button of my blue cardigan. “Yes, rules. Rule number one. I never want to see you down here in the stacks again.”
I shook my head, trying to focus on the crazy things he was saying through the sensual fog in my brain. “What are you talking about? I have to come here. It’s part of my work-study job.”
“No, it is too dangerous.”
He wasn’t making any sense. This was heaven to me. Alone, surrounded by books. How could this possibly be dangerous?
“Besides,” he undid several more buttons till you could see the simple lace edge of my bra, “you won’t be working from now on.”
“Not work? I can’t pay my tuition and rent as it is, and you think I can stop working? No. That’s not possible. That’s insane. I’m in enough trouble until I talk to Mr. Fitzgerald’s son about my grant money.”
A frustrated sigh escaped through his teeth. “моя крошка, you are not listening to what I’m telling you.”
“Because you are not making sense! Listen. I have to finish stacking these books. Then I have to take a train halfway across the city. I think I found where Mr. Fitzgerald’s son moved to after selling his father’s house to you.”
His eyes rose to the ceiling. “Боже, дай мне сил.”
Then both of his hands grasped the loose material of my open neckline and wrenched down, tearing the remaining buttons off. I could hear them ping as they hit the linoleum floor before scattering. He forced the cups of my bra down till it exposed my naked breasts.
My cry of alarm was cut off as his hot, wet mouth closed over one already erect nipple and pulled it deep into his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue.
My fingers clawed at the fabric covering his shoulders and upper arms. “Stop! We’re in public!”
Rarely did I see anyone down here. Usually I was the only one willing to trudge down into the dusty storage stacks, but that still didn’t mean nobody ever came down here. It was still a public space in the center of a busy university campus!
“нет, we are in a dark basement where no one will hear you scream.”
His rough hand traveled up my bare thigh to cup my sex. His finger pushed aside the silk fabric of my panties to feel my already wet cunt. I hissed from the shock and twinge of pain as he forced one finger inside of me. I was still sore from last night.
With a growl, he pulled his hand free and spun my body till I was facing the shelves. My naked breasts pressed against the soft leather spines of the books. I could feel a rush of cold air as he lifted the back of my skirt. His fingers tore at my panties, pulling them down to the tops of my thighs.
Before I could protest his brutal handling, a hot sting of pain shot through my body as his palm connected with my bare ass. The sharp sound of skin striking skin reverberated throughout the silent room.
“Ow! What are you doing?”
He spanked my ass several more times. It felt like a thousand hot needles pricking at my skin all at the same time. “You will not be going to another man’s house to beg for money. Do you understand me?”
Salty tears stung my cheeks as I tried to make sense of the warring emotions of pleasure, pain, and fear all battling inside my mind and body. “No! I don’t understand any of this!”
“You are mine now, under my protection. Any money you need will come from me and me alone.”
Even though I knew I risked his anger, I couldn’t accept that. It would make me… make me… what he thought I was last night. Besides, I had been on my own for too long to accept someone’s charity. I worked to earn my way through life and I had earned that grant money. If I couldn’t get it I would find another way. Work longer hours at the Newberry Library. Pick up more work-study shifts. Maybe Mary could get me a few cocktail shifts at the bar she worked at part-time.
With a burst of anger I rarely expressed out loud, I bristled. “No! I’m not your… whore!”
My mouth fell open the moment I uttered the blatantly blunt word. I couldn’t believe I’d actually just said that… and to this man!
His large hand stilled on my right ass cheek. His fingers dug into the bruised flesh as he squeezed it hard.
“Ow! That hurts!”
He gave me several more spanks till I could feel my pulse pounding under my skin as it heated and swelled from his punishment.
Grasping me by the shoulders, he flipped me around again. I hissed the moment my bare skin came into contact with the leather book spines.
His hand spanned my jaw as his thumb rubbed my lower lip. His gaze was molten steel as he glared down at me. “I never want to hear such an ugly word come out of this pretty mouth again. Do you hear me?”
Afraid to move or even speak, I just stood there within his tight grasp.
“You will do as I say. Don’t let me catch you down here alone again. Your co-workers will just have to find another little mouse to order around and you will not be going to that Fitzgerald’s house under any circumstances. Paying your tuition is no longer your concern.”
I bit my lip and lowered my gaze. My humiliation was complete knowing he had learned of the awful nickname I had gained here among the library staff and students. It was awful because it was true. I was a little insignificant mouse who just shyly skittered along the outskirts of life, hoping no one stepped on her.
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered hoarsely as I sniffed and tried to wipe away my tears. “Is it… is it because of last night? Because you feel some obligation to me… because I was… was a… virgin? The misunderstanding wasn’t your fault! It was mine! You don’t owe me anything.”
Grasping my face with both hands, his mouth swooped down to claim mine. He tasted of tobacco and mint as his tongue swirled and danced around my own. My hand crept up to grasp the thin soft material of his shirt as I could not stifle a wanton moan. His kisses. My God, his kisses were all-consuming. By the time he lifte
d his head, I could barely remember my name, let alone what we had been talking about.
“Let’s just say I have a sudden desire to be the wealthy patron of an adorable little library student.”
“But…”
“Enough.” He grabbed me by the hand, propelling me down the narrow space between the stacks and into the equally dimly lit main aisle. As I looked around the dreary isolated space, I saw it through his eyes and had to concede he had a point.
I righted my bra and clasped the ends of my sweater over my chest as I struggled to keep up with his long, powerful strides. As we reached the exit to the storage level, he picked up his suit jacket and swung it over my shoulders. Something hard bumped my elbow. Reaching into the inner pocket, I pulled out a thin, rectangular red leather case with the name Cartier in gold-embossed letters across the top.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to pry,” I stammered as I tried to put the jewelry case back inside the inner jacket pocket and wondered about the woman who he probably intended the gift for. I bet she wore elegant black cocktail dresses and drank chilled martinis as she dazzled all the men who surrounded her.
Dimitri adjusted the too-big coat over my shoulders and reached into the inside pocket. The back of his knuckles brushed my breast as he did so. I inhaled a shocked gasp as desire once again spiked through me. What was wrong with me? The man was still practically a stranger. My ass was still hurting from the second spanking he had just given me and here I was mooning over him like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“This, my adorable little librarian, is for you. For last night.”
He opened the Cartier case, and my jaw dropped.
I had never seen so many diamonds before in my life. It looked almost like a movie prop from an old Marilyn Monroe film. The art déco bracelet was at least an inch thick with hundreds of sparkling diamonds set in what I could only assume was platinum.
I shook my head as I took several steps backward, holding my flat palm up in a ‘stop’ motion. “No, I couldn’t possibly accept that!”
“моя крошка, you will wear this bracelet. I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”