Sold to My Father's Friend

by Cara Chance

  A note sat on my pillow with a red rose.

  Have dinner with me, Angel.

  I grabbed my duffel bag and unpacked my clothing, hanging up a few things. I had no idea if there was a dress code for dinner in this fancy mansion, so I pulled on a skirt and a sleeveless pink blouse.

  I smoothed out the wrinkles as I went into the bathroom to do my hair.

  Why I was going through all the trouble to look nice for my captor I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to. He intimidated me, and I wanted to be sure I wasn’t underdressed.

  As I made my way downstairs, butterflies fluttered throughout my system.

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs. A black suit clung to his perfectly sculptured body. He was refreshing, like a cool drink of water I wanted to gulp down in one sip to cool the fire smoldering in my veins.

  He sucked in a deep breath.

  When I reached him, he placed his hand on the small of my back guiding me to the dining room.

  “You look beautiful,” he murmured.

  I blushed. His compliment threw me off guard. “Thanks.”

  My nerves were shot. On one hand, I should demand to be taken home. On the other, I wanted him to keep staring at me like he wanted to take me right there, on the stair case. He led me to the long formal table.

  His dark, penetrating gaze grazed over my body and stopped along my chest. My traitorous nipples hardened under his scrutiny.

  He pulled a high-back dining chair for me to sit, and I glanced around taking in the elegant set up on the table.

  Soft flickering candlelight illuminated the dimly lit room. The white chinaware was etched with a small JL emblem in black script. Silver cutlery gleamed in the glow of the flames, and as I sat down, Mr. Landon’s hand brushed across the top of my shoulder.

  I wasn’t expecting the whisper touch of his skin coming into contact with mine. I almost wanted him to do it again.

  He sat. The tension between us was palpable. I took a sip of wine to calm nerves from a glass so delicate, I worried I would snap the stem in two. A man dressed in a freshly pressed black and white suit entered the dining room. He carried a silver platter, and I felt out of my element. There were so many forks. He set the dish in front of me and lifted the lid.

  Beef Wellington and mashed potatoes in a fancy dollop decorated the plate.

  Mr. Landon smiled. “Eat, enjoy.”

  It smelled delicious, and my hunger from missing lunch won out over the turmoil I felt inside. Before I took a bite, I asked, “Mr. Landon, what happens if my father doesn’t pay?”

  His eyes raised.

  Then, he set his fork down and gave me that wicked smile again. “Nothing you need to worry about, my dear.”

  I hated being called dear, reminded me of my father. “Please don’t call me that.”

  He picked up his fork and began eating. “Call you my dear?”

  “Yes, I hate it.”

  “What would you like me to call you? Angel? Baby? Precious?”

  “Not precious, reminds me of Lord of the Rings.”

  He smiled. “I’ve never seen it.”

  Figured. He didn’t appear as if he had ever sat down to watch a movie in his life. What did he do for fun? Did he even know how to have fun? Maybe buying innocent girls was his fun.

  “What do you do for fun?” I bit down on my food, and the flavor profile erupted in my mouth, making me moan.

  “A lot of things.” He leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his short, crystal tumbler. “But, my favorite is making women moan, just like you did there.”

  I didn't doubt he could. “So, you’re a chef?” I smiled and winked.

  “No, not a chef. I use other ways to make women moan.”

  “Oh,” was all I could say. My insides tingled as his eyes met mine again. The dining table was long, and he was a good five feet away, but the way he stared at me, with the blaze of fire in his eyes, felt like he was right on top of me.

  I’d never experienced anything like it.

  “Do I make you nervous, Angel?” His voice was low but carried the distance between us, and I felt as though he’d whispered it in my ear.

  My hands trembled as I lifted my fork to my lips. “No,” I lied, before I took a bite.

  Again, I was moaning. What did they put in the food?

  He dropped his fork, watching me ever so closely. “You keep moaning like that and this dinner will be over very soon.”

  I didn’t know what he meant by those words, so I kept myself in check. We ate in silence as soft classical music played in the background.

  When dinner was over, I rose from my seat to head to my room. As soon as my foot landed on the first step, I felt his hand on the small of my back. “I want to show you something.”

  Chapter Three

  He led me out the back door of his mansion, never removing his hand from my lower back.

  As soon as I stepped outside, lights flickered on. The sight before my eyes was like something out of a fairy tale.

  White, dazzling lights hung in garlands high in the treetops. A beautiful garden laid before us with intricate paved walkways.

  “This is beautiful,” I said as he dropped his hand.

  “You asked me what I liked to do, well this is it.”

  “You’re a gardener?” My eyes went wide, and he laughed beside me.

  “No, definitely not a gardener. But, I do enjoy spending time here.”

  “Doing what?”

  We walked side-by-side further down the path, stopping at a small table with wrought-iron chairs.

  “Have a seat,” he instructed, pulling out a chair for me to sit.

  “So, what do you do out here?” I asked after he sat in the seat across from me. He stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankle.

  “Mainly, business. During the night hours, it’s beautiful here.”

  He stared at the bushes weighted with flowers, seeming more relaxed, so I tried once again to get information. “What is it you do?” I still didn’t know what him or my father did, but I knew it didn’t involve flowers.

  “A little of this and a little of that.” He looked over at me. “Now, what about you? What do you like to do besides read?”

  Yeah, right. As if I would let him in on anything personal. Even though he was sexy as hell, he was still holding me here against my will. Friends was not something we would become.

  “Oh, you know, a little of this and a little of that,” I answered. His eyebrow arched up, and a smirk blessed his hot as sin face.

  He studied me before I looked away to gaze at all of the varying colored rose bushes. When he smiled, it was easy to forget what I was doing here. “Close your eyes.”

  I did as he requested, and heard him stand from his seat. His footsteps faded into the night and then came louder as he approached.

  He stood behind me, his breathing harsh against the still night air.

  “The great thing about roses are their soft petals.”

  I felt the velvet touch of a rose caress the top of my shoulder. His hand brushed through my long tresses, sweeping it off my skin. He continued running the rose along the nape of my neck as his voice lowered. “It can make a woman feel sexy when the petals touch her all over.”

  Goosebumps raised along my arm and the back of my neck as he continued the path of the rose. He lowered his head, and his mouth was inches from my ear. “Do you feel sexy, Angel?”

  I nodded my head, entranced by his words. The petals of the rose brushing along my skin felt sensuous, and I didn’t want him to stop.

  “But, they can also bite too.” He pricked my skin with a thorn from the stem, and my body reacted with a jump. My eyes sprang open as his hands rubbed over the sharp pain.

  “Ow,” I said.

  He continued trailing the soft petals along my skin, soothing the spot where he pricked me. “Ah, but a little pain makes the rose that much more enjoyable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Again, I was entranced
and couldn’t answer. I nodded my head, and he sucked in a deep breath.

  “Do you like mixing pleasure and pain?”

  I turned my head so our eyes met. His hooded eyes were dark. Darker than I’d ever seen before. “I…um…what do you mean?”

  “Sex, Angelique. I mean sex.”

  “Oh.” I’d only been with one guy before. Someone from college and he never ventured past the normal missionary style position. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you a virgin?” He remained behind me with the rose in his hand. It no longer touched my skin, but I wanted it to.

  “No, but, well, I’ve only been with one person before.”

  “You’ll be the death of me, Angel.”

  “Mr. Landon…” I began.

  “Jace, call me Jace.”

  “Jace, what happens if my father doesn’t pay?”

  “Then you become mine. I came to collect a debt from your father. If he can’t pay, you will be his payment.”

  “That’s illegal.”

  He let out a sinister laugh and then stopped suddenly. “Do you think I give a fuck?” His voice turned cold, and I was afraid.

  He dropped the rose on the table, his muscles straining against the fabric of his button-down shirt, and moved over to a bush with a blueish flower. He plucked it.

  “Do you know what this flower is?” he asked as he sat back down.

  I glanced at it and shook my head.

  “It’s called a Clitoria, named for its resemblance to a certain female anatomy part.”

  I stared at the flower and noticed it did look just like a vagina. My cheeks heated, and I turned away.

  “See, this part here,” he touched the flower bud, “this looks like a woman’s clit.”

  My cheeks grew hotter as I watched him stroke the flower. It was sexual, and I tried to stare at anything but him.

  He pulled at the long nub, rubbing it between his fingers. Our eyes met, and I crossed my legs.

  “This part of the flower resembles the lips of the pussy.” His middle finger ran along the slit of the flower while his thumb continued to rub the small petal near the top.

  He licked his lips as he continued to play the flower like I imagined he could do to me. I pushed my thighs closer together, trying to ease the tension he caused deep within my core.

  He brought the flower to his nose and took a long sniff. “It smells so sweet. Would you like to smell it, Angel?”

  “Okay,” I uttered, completely under his spell.

  He smiled and handed me the flower.

  I brought it to my nose, and as I smelled the sweet scent, he growled a deep, low groan.

  My panties were damp, and I wanted him to touch me like he did the flower. I handed the flower back to him. His eyes never left mine as he brought the flower to his nose once more. Taking a long pull from the flower, he nuzzled his nose deeper into the petals.

  My mouth fell open, unable to form words.

  “It’s late. Go to bed,” he said, dropping the flower to the table between us.

  ***

  Lying in bed, sleep wouldn’t come no matter how hard I tried. Jace’s words played over and over in my head. I would be his.

  I tossed and turned thinking about the flower and the way he touched it between his fingers.

  I fell asleep with these visions playing in my head.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night, I awoke. My body was on fire with lust for Jace, and I tried my hardest to erase the thoughts of the way he stared at me. I couldn’t.

  The junction between my thighs yearned for attention, and I pressed my fingers against my clit as I thought of him. Touching me. Kissing me. Doing anything to me.

  I moaned, softly. Dipping my hand beneath the waistband of my panties, I slid a finger inside myself. I rocked into my hand, moaning a little louder this time. What would his fingers feel like inside me? Would he mix pleasure and pain?

  The thought had my fingers racing along my wet skin as I brought myself closer to my orgasm. My hips bucked, rocking into my hand faster. My moans grew louder. I tried to quiet down, but it felt too good imagining Jace’s hands on me.

  “Jace,” his name left my lips in a whisper.

  My orgasm shot through me like a freight train, all flashing lights and high speeds.

  As soon as my body stilled, and the after effects began to fade, a noise sounded in the corner of my room. My eyes grew wide, and I sat up.

  In the soft, dim light, my eyes met his. His haunting eyes.

  He was in my room. Saw what I did. I was mortified.

  “Get out,” I shouted to his shadowy figure in the darkened recesses of my room.

  Jace didn’t move. He stood there, watching. After a solid minute, he moved toward me. Calculated and controlled as if he owned the room. Which he did, but it almost felt like he owned me as well.

  “Angel,” he spoke.

  I pulled the covers higher to my chin as he came even closer. I didn’t want to answer.

  “Angel?”

  “Yeah,” I finally said after another minute of silence.

  “I can do it better.”

  “Do what better?” I had an idea of what he spoke about, but I wanted to forget it had ever happened.

  “Give you an orgasm. Instead of whispering my name, I’d make you come so hard you’d be screaming it.”

  My mouth hung open, and even though I’d just had an orgasm, I was ready to go again. He was unlike high school or college boys. His confidence was daunting and downright scary. I didn’t know what to say. He moved closer to where he was within reaching distance. I wanted to touch him. Feel his hard body beneath my fingertips. But, I kept gripping the sheet instead.

  He raised his hand and caressed my cheek. “Think about it.”

  “Get out,” I managed to say.

  His seduction was over, and he left the room. I blew out a breath. What the fuck?

  Chapter Four

  The next few days, Jace kept his distance from me. I spent most of my time in the garden, reading.

  He spent his time in his office with the doors closed or in his own personal gym.

  Dinner was always tense. He would order me as if he owned me. Essentially, he did. But at night, when I lay my head on the fluffy pillow, I dreamt of him.

  A few days later, my mind played over the fact my father had still not rescued me. Was he ever going to find the money?

  I sat in the library, alone, reading. Jace walked in, impeccably dressed as usual. Navy designer suit, silver tie. My jean shorts and “Keep Calm And Read” t-shirt looked out of place. It's not like I had time to plan a wardrobe before I left. His debonair attitude weighed heavily on his stance as he stared at me.

  “What?” I asked. “Has my father contacted you?”

  He crossed his arms, his eyebrow arching over his devilish eyes. “No.”

  “Oh,” I said, sinking back into the comfy high-backed armchair. My hope to return home was starting to dwindle.

  “You could always work off his debt, Angel.”

  I tilted my head at him. Now he wanted me to play the part of Cinderella and clean his impeccably clean house? “How? Like chores and stuff?”

  He bellowed. “Oh, I definitely have some chores for you, my sweet.”

  His endearment caught me off guard. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as he moved closer. With every step in my direction, my insides burned. Why did he have to be so sexy? My brain scrambled as he inched closer. His smell wafted over me, and I breathed it in as if it was my only oxygen. It was masculine, primal, a scent to have all others jealous. He should bottle it up and sell it. Or maybe I could and pay off my father’s debt. As my mind veered off on its crazy tangent, I realized he was practically standing over me.

  He loosened his tie. “Do you want to pay off your father’s debt?”

  “Well, yes.” He grabbed my hand and helped me from my seat.

  Confused, I dropped the book, following him out of the library.

&nbs
p; He was silent as he led me up the marble staircase. My heart beat a loud, annoying rhythm in my chest.

  He walked past my bedroom and continued down the hallway to the double doors standing tall and firm at the end. He pushed them open and ushered me inside.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat as I glanced around. Mahogany woods and grey fabrics were all I could see.

  A King-sized bed sat against the far wall, a large balcony off to the left, and a leather armchair off to the right.

  “What exactly am I going to be doing?” I asked, leery of the answer. He walked to the center of the room and turned to face me, crossing his arms.

  “I think it’s time I took your pussy as payment and became mine.”

  “Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe my own ears. Was he for real? I read about these things, but that was fictional. Hot. This was reality. And fucking unbelievable.

  “Angel, I can make you feel things you could never even fathom. Things you have never felt before.”

  “Um…” I was fucking speechless. Not a word or anything would come to mind.

  “Come here,” he demanded. I took a deep breath and slowly walked over, stopping in front of him. He lifted his hand, running it through my long locks. It sent shivers racing down my spine. I leaned into his touch like an idiot. Curiosity kept me rooted to the hardwood floor as he yanked my head to the side.

  His teeth sank into my neck. His moans against my skin sent a rippling flame of desire burning my insides to charred bits.

  Focus on anything except the feeling he evoked within went right out the window. Drowning in sensation, never to resurface again, I clung to him as he kept sucking along my skin, making me feel things I didn't understand. There was one word I tried to remember. One word he uttered, and they wouldn’t replay in my mind. What was the word?

  His.

  As soon as I remembered, I pushed him away.

  “Stop,” I breathed.

  Shock crossed his chiseled face as if no one had ever told him to stop before. Which, with the way he carried himself, and the muscles I knew had to be hiding under his button-down shirt, I didn’t doubt he’d ever heard the word no before.