Captured: Claimed Book 3

by M James

  “Slowly, Poppy. Yes, that feels good,” he groans as I start to run my hand up and down. “It’s about to get so much better—”

  I blink up at him, confused. What’s about to get better? I start to ask him what he means, but then I hear the sound of the door opening. I jump, jerking my hand away automatically as my heart leaps into my throat, and I turn to see who’s coming into our room this late at night. It makes no sense. No one would come in here without knocking—

  And then I see who’s standing in the doorway. My heart drops, and I can’t get rid of the horrified look that has to be on my face.

  Dena is standing there, wearing black lace lingerie, a see-through lace bra that pushes her full breasts up, and a tiny pair of scalloped lace panties, all of it perfectly matching her thick black hair and setting off her pale curvy figure to perfection, and it hits me then why he’d told me not to wear black.

  A wave of nausea washes over me because even as naïve as I am, I know what’s coming next. I’m not stupid, and I know the kinds of things men fantasize about. I’ve heard way too many guys talk about how much they want a threesome, how badly they want to watch two girls together, how it’s their favorite type of porn. But for them, it’s just a fantasy. They’re barely enough to keep one girl happy, let alone two.

  Yet, Vincent has the power to make anything he wants happen. A fantasy for another man is his reality. He can snap his fingers and make us do anything he wants.

  But from the look on Dena’s face, I’m not sure that he’s making her do anything. Her expression is sultry, her makeup darkened from when we were out at dinner, so she looks every bit the seductress that I know she fancies herself to be. She walks into the room, and I can see the heat in Vincent’s face, the satisfaction at what he knows is going to happen.

  I’m so stunned at seeing Dena walk into the room that it takes a second for me to react as Vincent grabs a fistful of my hair, holding my head in place as he wraps his hand around his cock, pulling me closer between his legs. “Do you know why Dena is in here?” he asks me, and for a second, I’m too shocked to answer.

  “Answer me, Poppy,” he snaps, slapping the tip of his cock against my cheek. “Why is your friend in here?”

  “Because you want to watch us have sex?” I venture, the words sticking in my throat. I’m not attracted to women at all. Even if I’d wanted to experiment, it wouldn’t be like this, with my fiancé forcing a threesome between me and a girl that I’m not sure is even really my friend but who pretends to be.

  “Yes, Poppy,” Vincent says dryly, his voice thick with sarcasm. “I want to watch the two of you fuck. I want her to suck my cock while you lick her pussy and make her moan while I’m deep in her throat. I want her to eat you out while I fuck her. But you know what else I want?”

  I swallow hard, my heart in my throat, my pulse pounding so fast that I think I might pass out. His hand is wrapped so tightly in my hair that it pulls at my scalp, and I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing, of making it clear to him how much I don’t want this to happen. But maybe that wouldn’t even matter anymore. He would just get off on it more.

  “What?” I whisper. “What do you want?”

  “I’m not satisfied with keeping my flowers in other apartments anymore. I’m tired of having to leave my home when I want something other than your complaining and your sour face.”

  I look up at him, momentarily confused. “You want Daisy to come live with us? Or one of the others?” I don’t know any of the others by name, but I’m sure Daisy isn’t the only one. Just the one I found out about.

  “No, Poppy.” He smiles, letting go of my hair suddenly and stroking it, turning from rough to gentle in the space of a moment. “I want Rose here to live with us.”

  “Rose?” I ask dumbly, and then I realize that he means Dena. “Wait—Dena is one of your flowers?” My stomach clenches again, my heart sinking down to my toes.

  Of course, I think numbly. Dena always defended Vincent, always worshipped him and his money. She always thought I was being ungrateful, just like Vincent berates me for time and time again. So if he wanted her, why wouldn’t she jump at it? For all I know, she’s thrilled about this.

  But I know one thing for sure, she’s not my friend now, if she ever was at all.

  Vincent lets out an irritated huff. “Yes. Rose. I thought that was an apt name, with her penchant for red lipstick. And tonight, I want to see those red lips kissing you, eating you out, wrapped around my cock. I want to watch the two of you play, and then we’ll all play together. And since she’s going to live here now, you’re going to see how a grateful girl gets treated.” His hand smooths over my hair, slides around to grip my chin, lifting it so that I’m looking directly up at him. “I’m going to spoil her while I punish you, until you learn to be grateful. Until you learn that not everyone thinks that pleasing me is a chore, that some women appreciate all I have to offer them.”

  My throat feels tight, every part of me screaming at me to run, but I know I can’t. There’s nowhere for me to go, and besides, Erin is here. There are so many reasons why I’m trapped, and I don’t know when I let them pile up, but it’s all I can do to hold it together. “Please, Vincent, I’m sorry—” I know begging won’t help, but I have to try. When I glance at Dena, I can see a vaguely uncomfortable expression pass over her face. It’s gone in a second, but I know I saw it, and I have a moment’s hope that she doesn’t really want this either.

  But it doesn’t matter. Vincent grabs my hair again, yanking me up to my feet as I cry out in pain and shoving me onto the bed. “Stop whining!” he snaps. “You’re lucky I’m even including you in this. I could have fucked Rose on her own, but I thought you’d like it better if I didn’t always leave you out, if I made this something we did together instead of just me sleeping with my other flowers. But you can’t be happy with anything, can you, Poppy?” He reaches for Dena then as I climb onto the bed, trying not to cry as he pulls her into his arms, his hand sliding gently into her hair.

  When he kisses her, it’s all I can do not to burst into tears. Not because I’m jealous or because I don’t like seeing him with another girl—I’m way past loving him or being jealous of anyone else who’s with him. But the tenderness in that kiss, the way he caresses her, kissing her mouth gently and sweetly, even passionately, reminds me of how we used to be. It reminds me of the first weeks we spent together before I started to realize how controlling he was, the months before I knew how bad it could really get.

  And it reminds me of what I used to have with Zach, too. It makes me think of how much I long to be kissed like that again, not by Vincent but by a man I loved—and still love—so much more than I ever loved Vincent. I want it so much it hurts, and every moment of this awful night just underscores all over again how much I’ve lost and how different things are now.

  Dena moans softly as he kisses her, her hand moving between them to undress him the rest of the way, stroking him as I watch, unable to tear my eyes away. I feel like I’m in some kind of nightmare, some alternate universe, and that doesn’t change as Vincent leads her over to the bed, helping her onto it in a very different way than he shoved me a few moments ago and then joining the two of us.

  “You’re going to watch me make your friend come, Poppy,” he says, pushing Dena’s thighs apart. “And you’re going to touch yourself while I do it, and think about how it could be you, how I could be licking you right now, bringing you so much pleasure the way I used to. But bad little flowers don’t get their pussies eaten. Good flowers do. And Rose is a good flower, aren’t you, baby?” He runs his hands over Dena’s waist, and she nods.

  “Yes baby,” she breathes, not looking at me. “I’ll be good for you, Vincent, so fucking good—oh!” She cries out as his fingers slide between her legs, and I watch in frozen horror as Vincent kisses her inner thigh, his lips sliding upwards as he looks over at me.

  “I told you to touch yourself, Poppy! Can’t you fucking do anything right?”
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  Hastily, I slide my hand underneath my sheer pink thong. I’ve never been less turned on in my life, but I know better than to keep defying Vincent. I move my hand just enough to make him think that I’m playing with myself. At the same time, he starts to go down on Dena. I fight back the tears of frustration and embarrassment as she starts to moan, her hands digging into the sheets as he brings her closer and closer to the brink of an orgasm.

  I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, only for Vincent to lift his head long enough to snap at me to open them, to watch, before he dives between Dena’s thighs again. The sounds fill the room—her moans of pleasure, the wet sounds of him licking her, fingering her, sounds that should be erotic but just make me feel worse and worse until finally, Dena’s moans reach a loud crescendo. I finally know what my former friend sounds like when she orgasms.

  I should have known she’d be a screamer.

  He looks at me over Dena’s thigh before thrusting his fingers into her again and continuing. I know he’s doing this on purpose, giving her more pleasure than I could ever imagine while he forces me to watch.

  He makes her come twice more as I pretend to touch myself and watch, faking a moan occasionally for his benefit. Maybe he’ll be too horny and just fuck one of us and get it over with, I think desperately, but I should have known better.

  Vincent comes up for air, rolling onto his back in the space between us and licking his lips. “Your friend is delicious, Poppy,” he growls, his muscular body sinking back into the pillows as he reaches for his cock. “Now it’s my turn. I want both of your mouths on me.”

  Hesitantly I move towards him, grateful that he’s not making me do anything with Dena yet. Maybe I can even get away without sex. Two girls going down on him at once has got to be hot enough to make him come quickly, right?

  Dena meets my eyes, and I can see that vaguely troubled expression there, hidden by the glazed look of a woman who just had three orgasms.

  Why is she doing this?

  For fucking money and connections. Our friendship wasn’t worth anything compared to that.

  “Fuck yes,” Vincent growls, his hands smoothing over our hair as Dena takes him in her mouth, my tongue running along his shaft. “Perfect. One blonde, one brunette. One thin, one curvy. No matter what I have a taste for, I have it here waiting for me. Fuck that’s good,” he moans again as Dena sucks him.

  I try to zone out and go through the motions of giving him a blowjob, just with some added help. But Vincent has always had a lot of staying power in bed, something that I loved once upon a time. I felt like it meant he was passionate, caring, a tender lover who didn’t just want to shove his dick inside of me unceremoniously and then come. But now I wish he’d just get it over with.

  “Fuck,” Vincent groans, reaching out to push both of our mouths away. “That’s too fucking good.” He sits up, his hand wrapping around his shaft and squeezing hard. “Kiss,” he orders, nodding at the two of us. “I want to watch the two of you make out.”

  Dena and I eye each other, and I can see the hesitation in her face. I don’t know if she’s into girls at all or not, but there’s never been the slightest sexual vibe between us, so if she is, then I don’t think I’m her type. She doesn’t want me—she wants Vincent, and she’s going along with this to make him happy. As she moves towards me, I close my eyes, trying to be anywhere else.

  I can’t ignore how her mouth feels on mine, though. It’s not terrible—soft and warm and gentler than any man I’ve ever kissed, and as I gingerly reach up to touch her face, I don’t hate the feeling of her smooth skin under my fingertips—but I’m not aroused by it.

  At all.

  Nothing about this does anything for me sexually. I don’t know if it’s turning Dena on—she’s doing a good job of faking it if not, moaning softly and running her hands over my body, but Vincent is fucking loving it. I can hear him stroking himself faster, groaning.

  “Fuck yes. God, that’s so fucking hot, the two of you—good girl Poppy, see how good it can be when you do what I ask. Doesn’t her mouth feel so fucking good?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing.

  “Lay back, Poppy, let Rose show you what else that mouth can do. I want to watch her eat you out, and then I’m going to fuck her while she makes you come.”

  Dena starts to push me back towards the pillows, her hands sliding down to my hips, but at that moment, something inside of me snaps.

  I’ve been able to shut myself off so many times now while Vincent fucked me, pretending to be somewhere else until it was over, but something about him trying to force Dena to go down on me brings everything inside of me to a grinding halt. I push myself up and push Dena away from me, bile rising up in the back of my throat.

  I scramble off of the bed, shaking my head fiercely. “No,” I whisper, and then louder, “no!”

  Vincent’s hand goes still, and Dena stays where she is, kneeling in the middle of the bed with her face suddenly uncertain.

  “What did you say, Poppy?” Vincent asks, his voice suddenly dark, but I ignore it. I know nothing good is going to come from this, but I can’t.

  I just can’t go on. I can’t keep doing this.

  I don’t care what he does next, I think miserably. I’m not going to let him push me into this. I won’t do it.

  “I’m not going to do it,” I say, lifting my chin. “You can make me do all kinds of things, Vincent, you can make me stay, give up college, marry you, fuck you whenever you want, be your good little flower and wife because of everything you do for my family, but you can’t make me fuck my friend just because you want to watch it. Get her to fuck one of your other flowers because I’m not doing it.” I’m crying now, tears streaming down my face, but I refuse to give in, and I keep my chin up defiantly, glaring at him through my tears. “I don’t like women, and if I did, she’s my friend. I don’t want to do this. I’m not doing it.”

  I expect rage. I expect him to fly off the handle and scream at me, to punish me, hit me, hurt me or in some way, force me. But instead, he just laughs, leaning back against the pillows with an amused look on his face.

  “Fine,” he says, shrugging, and I stare at him, not quite able to believe what I’m hearing. A sliver of pride goes through me. Is this all it took? For me to stand my ground and say no. Could this be the first sign of me changing things with us?

  “But if you won’t fuck each other,” he says coolly, nodding at Dena, “then fuck each other up.”

  I stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “What—do you mean—”

  “Fight. That should be amusing. Go for it. But do something before I decide to be angry about your little refusal.”

  “What?” I’m horrified. He can’t be serious.

  “Vincent, you can’t be—”

  Before I can even move, Dena’s off the bed in a flash, and she tackles me, taking me down to the floor as she straddles me in her black lingerie, her hair in a messy cloud around her face.

  “There you go, Rose, that’s my girl!” Vincent crows, clearly entertained by this. “Show little Poppy what happens when flowers don’t behave.”

  I’m stunned. All of the air knocked out of me.

  Where the hell am I?

  This is a nightmare!

  But Dena’s hands gripping my hair and pulling wakes me up and reminds me that this is real. I gasp for breath; something else fills me, something I’ve felt glimmers of before but never really given into.

  Pure, hot rage.

  I lunge upwards, grabbing a fistful of Dena’s hair. She recoils in shock, reacting by slapping me hard, her nails digging in towards the bottom of my cheek. And then suddenly, we’re fighting in a way that isn’t cutesy or reluctant, in a way that I never knew I could fight.

  We slap and claw at each other, hands grabbing at arms, hair, lingerie, until my babydoll nightie is torn and she has nail marks running down one arm. She rears back, slapping me hard across the face again as I try to grab her hair. As the
slap brings tears to my eyes and splits my lip open, I react without thinking, angrier than I think I’ve ever been in my life.

  It’s not so much Dena I’m furious at. I’m furious with Vincent for everything he’s done to me, everything he’s blackmailing me with, for trying to make me fuck Dena, for making me do this. I’m angry at Zach for being with another woman and for hanging back and watching all of this happen. I’m angry at Erin for falling into Vincent’s trap and treating me like shit when I’ve gone through so much hell for her. Yes, I’m pissed at Dena, too, for not telling Vincent no, for letting her social-climbing, money-grubbing desires take precedence over whatever friendship we had.

  All of that channels into me as I throw her over onto her back; my fist is connecting squarely with her jaw as I punch her in the face, dragging her head back with a hand wrapped in her hair so that I make a solid hit.

  Dena cries out, her yell of pain filling the room, and I realize in a daze that she’s bleeding from her lip too, a bruise already darkening on her chin.

  “Stop!” Vincent scrambles off of the bed, pushing between us and grabbing Dena. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Poppy?” he hisses, shoving me backward so that I fall on my ass onto the floor, and gathering Dena into his arms.

  “Shh,” he whispers to her, stroking her hair as she buries her face in his chest, crying so hard that her shoulders are shaking. “What the fuck, Poppy? This is your friend. Why the hell would you behave like a fucking animal?” He stares at me, shock and disappointment written so clearly across his face that you’d think I attacked Dena out of nowhere, instead of him making us fight.

  He’s a fucking sociopath, I think with horror, staring at him from my place on the floor. He’s fucking insane. I’m trapped in this house with an insane man, forced to marry him soon, and this is what it’s escalated to.

  “I’ll take care of you, Rose. It’s over now, shh. I’ll clean you up in just a minute.” He strokes Dena’s hair, cuddling her and soothing her as he glares at me. “Go to Dena’s room,” he orders me, his eyes dark with fury.