Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

  "No," she promised, her gaze softening with sympathy. "Just don't do it again, please."

  I nodded, knowing she would probably get into trouble if he ever discovered she was keeping my transgression a secret. He was cruel, insane. What would he do to her if he found out she was showing me the smallest kindness? After my punishment last night, I was beginning to understand why Lauren was so compliant.

  "Does he hurt you?" I asked quietly. "I don't want him to hurt you because of me."

  She blinked at me, surprised. "Master Andrés is nice," she asserted for the second time.

  "Okay," I said slowly, trying to wrap my mind around her warped headspace. "But does he hurt you? You can tell me. He hurt me, too."

  "I wish Master Andrés would take care of me like he's taking care of you. You're lucky."

  "Are you listening to me?" I demanded, my patience slipping. "I said he hurt me. He's not taking care of me."

  She glared at me. "Do you want to be downstairs with the rest of us? Where they dose you with Bliss and make you beg them to rape you? Master Andrés is honest. He's fair. He's kind."

  I bit my tongue to hold in a frustrated tirade. Lauren had obviously been driven mad. Through my frustration, guilt and pity twisted my gut. Piecing together what she'd revealed, Lauren was being regularly drugged and violated, but not by Andrés. I knew from my investigation that Cristian Moreno was involved in trafficking Bliss and using the sick drug to capture and sell women.

  My stomach roiled. Andrés had claimed I'd beg him to fuck me, but at least he wasn't drugging me. We were locked in a battle of wills, and even though he'd won every round so far, I still had my wits about me to keep fighting. He might have forced me to surrender to punishment and wrung pleasure from my untried body, but I still had my mind.

  "I'll help you get out of here, Lauren," I swore. "I'm going to get you out."

  She stiffened. "I'm not going to help you escape."

  "I didn't expect you to," I replied sadly. She was obviously too far gone to defy Andrés. She'd been broken a long time ago. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to help you. We'll get out of here."

  She started at me, nonplussed. "I have a job to do," she announced after a few seconds of silence, as though I hadn't just made a passionate oath to set her free. "Lie on your back, please."

  I blew out a long breath and complied. I could physically resist Lauren, but I didn't know what Andrés would do to her if I prevented her from following his orders. I remembered how he'd frightened the young man who'd defied him yesterday. Andrés had threatened to cut out his eye for looking at me.

  I didn't want him to hurt Lauren because of my defiant choices. I'd choose another battle to fight with him, one that only involved the two of us and didn't risk collateral damage.

  I stared up at the ceiling as she slid the sheet off my body, leaving me bare. I did my best not to squirm with discomfort at being stripped. I'd always been painfully modest, even around other women. I hadn't grown up with sisters or even female cousins, so I wasn't accustomed to anyone seeing me naked.

  My cheeks heated, and I resolutely fisted my fingers into the sheet beneath me, preventing myself from slapping Lauren's hands away as she began to work.

  The wax was almost painfully hot, but she was as practiced as she'd claimed. Every time she pulled a wax-covered cloth free, she'd apply pressure to my enflamed skin to alleviate the horrible sting that followed. There was nothing sexual about the way she touched me. She was almost clinical in the way she handled my most secret area, her eyes assessing her work rather than studying my sex.

  "Done," she announced after a few uncomfortable minutes. She pulled away from me and started tidying everything on the cart.

  "Thanks," I said automatically. "I mean. No, thanks. I mean, I didn't mean to thank you. That was totally fucked up. I mean, fuck. I didn't mean to cuss. Damn it. I just—" I stopped rambling before my social awkwardness could get me into more trouble.

  Her hand settled over mine, squeezing gently. "I won't tell," she promised. "But you need to be good for Master Andrés."

  "Why?" I challenged. "Because he'll beat me if I'm not?"

  "Because he needs it."

  I gaped at her. "He needs me to be good for him," I said flatly. "I don't know what kind of psycho world you've been living in, and whatever's happened to you, I really am sorry. And I am going to help you get out of here. But I'm not going to roll over and give up just because you told me to. I'm not going to behave for my sadistic captor who gets off on torturing women, no matter what you say."

  She shook her head, her shining blond hair waving around her delicate face. "You don't understand him. You don't know him."

  "And you do? Just how well do you know Master Andrés? What did he do to you, exactly?" Ugly emotions clawed at my insides: anger, bitterness, fear.

  She lifted her chin. "He's nice," she insisted, as though that was the only way she was capable of thinking of Andrés.

  Ice crystallized in my veins. What had he done to her to warp her so thoroughly?

  “Thank you, Lauren,” his accented voice rolled through the room. “You can go now.”

  I jolted and grabbed the sheet, jerking the fabric over my body. Andrés smirked at me as he stepped into the bedroom.

  "You know you're not allowed to cover yourself, cosita," he said, more amused than stern. "Show me your pretty pussy. I want to see it."

  Lauren hurried out of the room, but I couldn't focus on her retreating form. All my attention was riveted on the threat posed by Andrés. My body became very aware of his proximity, remembering the pain he'd inflicted the night before. My heartbeat picked up, my pulse racing. I wanted to pull the sheet all the way up over my head and hide like a child seeking protection from a monster.

  But my bottom throbbed, a cruel reminder of what he was capable of if I disobeyed him. I'd already been naked around him pretty much since I'd gotten here. Why risk another punishment just to cover myself now? He'd look at me, one way or another.

  Slowly, I curled my fingers into the sheet and forced myself to drag it off my body. His eyes went straight to my bare sex, and they darkened with hunger.

  "Very pretty." He made a little rolling motion with his forefinger. "Turn over. I want to see my marks on you."

  I glared at him.

  He met me with a steady stare, waiting.

  I huffed out an angry breath and rolled onto my front. It felt nice not having my weight on the bruises, anyway.

  "On your hands and knees," he commanded. "Spread your thighs. I want to see my marks and my pussy."

  My eyes narrowed farther, and I didn't move to comply. That was too much. He couldn't honestly expect me to present myself to him so wantonly. Not without putting up a fight.

  Only, I didn't have time to fight. His arm snaked beneath my hips, pulling me up onto my knees.

  "Hey!" I cried, indignant.

  His hand cracked across my bruised thigh, and I shrieked.

  "You will learn to obey me," he said calmly. "Spread your legs. Now," he added, the word imbued with warning.

  My cheeks burning hotter than my thigh, I slowly eased my knees apart while he kept me in place with his arm braced beneath my stomach.

  "Beautiful," he remarked, his voice a low rumble. He touched his fingers to my labia, stroking over my bare skin. My sensitive flesh danced and quivered. It was strange to feel so smooth down there, his touch gliding over my sex in a gentle caress. His fingertips grazed over my clit as he stroked me, and I couldn't quite manage to smother a small gasp as pleasure crackled through the little bundle of nerves.

  He chuckled. "I think my kitten likes when I pet her pretty pink pussy."

  "Stop," I begged, not daring to say I didn't like it. That would be a lie. I couldn't deny that it felt good when he touched me like this. But that didn't mean I had to admit it aloud. I didn't want to like his touch, but my body betrayed me.

  "But I like petting your pussy, gatita," he said, not stopping his t
ender exploration of my bare flesh. It still stung slightly from the waxing, but my core fluttered as he continued to stroke me. "You were very well behaved for Lauren, weren't you? I think you've earned another reward."

  "Is this what you did to her?" I hurled at him, my fury rising at the mention of the broken woman. "Beat her and manipulated her until her mind warped? Did she used to hate you before she started worshipping the ground you walk on? Did you—?"

  My tirade ended when he abruptly flipped me over and settled his hand around the front of my throat. He didn't apply any pressure this time, but the warning was clear.

  "I've never harmed Lauren," he said, his voice rough with his own anger.

  A maddened laugh bubbled from my throat. "You've never harmed her? Just like you didn't harm me when you strapped me down and whipped me after mindfucking me into thinking I had a chance to escape? How crazy are you?"

  Something cold and scary settled over him, his features shifting to a blank mask. "I never claimed to be sane. Do you think a normal man wants to take an innocent woman and turn her into his plaything? Do you think a good man wants to bend her will and shape her into his obedient little fucktoy?"

  "So you..." I swallowed down the lump of horror in my throat. "You did do this to Lauren."

  "No," he said, still frigid. "The Bliss broke Lauren, not me."

  Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. "So you do want to break me," I whispered.

  A frown tugged at the corners of his lips, and some of the ice melted from his gaze. "I told you, I'm going to tame you. I'm going to make you mine and teach you to obey. I don't want to see you broken."

  "You told your brother you'd break me for him," I countered, fear pooling in my gut.

  His frown deepened to a scowl. "My brother likes to break things. He likes to take things that aren't his and shatter them. If I left you with him, he'd torture you until he discovered what you love most in the world. Then he'd make you watch while he destroyed it. Is that what you'd prefer? That I hand you back over to him?"

  Dex. Dex was the only person left that I cared about. My parents had died in a car crash when I was twenty-three. They'd been the only family I had, until I’d met my best friend.

  "No," I said faintly, a vision of Cristian's knife slicing into Dex's throat flashing across my mind. I couldn't let that happen, no matter what it cost me.

  Andrés wiped away the horrified tears that had spilled down my cheeks.

  "I'm not going to let him break you," he promised. "He'll never touch you again. You're mine now. I will be harsh with you. I will hurt you sometimes. And I will enjoy your pain. But I will never cause you harm, not to your body and not to your heart. Do you understand?"

  I closed my eyes and turned my face away from his touch. He was basically telling me that I had to sacrifice myself to save Dex. It was a sacrifice I'd make without a second thought, but that didn't mean despair didn't swallow me up as I chose to do so.

  “I can see that you don’t understand,” he said with a sigh. “But you will. It won’t be so bad, cosita. I’m not so bad.” He murmured the last so softly, I barely heard it.

  The mattress shifted, and I listened to him moving away from me. I waited until the door closed behind him before I started crying in earnest. I’d do anything to spare Dex pain, but this? Whoring myself out to a man who admitted he enjoyed hurting me? I wasn’t sure my mind wouldn’t break in the process, no matter what Andrés said.

  I can do this, I told myself. I can be the hero. Heroine. I can keep Dex safe.

  I’d find a way out of here somehow. If I got to safety, Cristian couldn’t hurt me. He couldn’t threaten Dex. I’d save myself and my best friend. I just had to survive whatever Andrés had in store for me until I was able to devise a way to escape. I had to avoid being turned over to Cristian at all costs. Dex’s life depended on it.

  Chapter 11

  “You’re sad,” Andrés observed, tucking my hair behind my ear in a perversion of affection.

  “I’m not sad,” I countered. “I’m pissed.”

  “You’re not angry.” He cupped my cheek so he could study my expression more carefully. “My angry gatita is cute and fierce. You’re sad.”

  I huffed out a breath. “I’m bored,” I admitted. I’d spent the entire day alone, with nothing to do but mull over my desperate situation. It hadn’t exactly been good for my headspace. Lauren had returned briefly to bring my lunch, but other than that short visit, I’d been on my own. It had been dark outside for ages before Andrés had finally returned.

  “You keep me chained up. I can’t even use the freaking bathroom. Do you know how fu—” I caught myself before the curse word left my lips “—messed up that is?” I finished.

  One corner of his lips tilted in a crooked smile. “There’s my angry gatita,” he said with satisfaction, ignoring my accusations. “I was worried about you.”

  “If you were worried about me, you wouldn’t leave me alone for hours with nothing to do. I’m going crazy here. Solitary confinement drives people crazy, you know that, right? Especially people like me.”

  He frowned slightly. “What do you mean, people like you? The purpose of leaving you like this is so you’ll wait for me. You’ll depend on me for everything. It helps you feel my control, even when I can’t be here with you.”

  I shoved at his chest, but of course I couldn’t push him away. It was more a token show of anger than anything else. I’d already given up on physically besting him.

  “Do you know how many thoughts I have? Like, all at one time? If I don’t have something to focus on, they overwhelm me. I can’t live like this.”

  “It’s only been two days,” he pointed out. “You’ll adjust.”

  “I won’t,” I asserted. “You don’t know me at all. I’ll go nuts if you keep leaving me like this.”

  His frown deepened. “If you’re trying to manipulate me into letting you walk freely around the suite, it’s not going to work. That’s a privilege you have to earn.”

  “I’m not trying to manipulate you,” I asserted, although now that he said it, I realized it would have been a good try. “That’s what you do, right? Manipulate people. Mindfuck them. Well, I’m not like you. I’m telling you the truth. I can’t handle this.” I tugged at the collar for emphasis. I was no longer chained to the bed, but he’d left the collar locked around my throat while he held me in his lap for this maddening conversation.

  He studied me for a long moment, then his frown finally eased. “No. You’re not like me. I’ll take this into consideration.” He brushed a feather-light kiss across my forehead. “I think I have a way to calm that busy brain of yours. You were so good accepting your punishment last night and behaving for Lauren today. I never did give you your reward.”

  “I don’t want it. Having you touch me is not a reward.”

  “You’re still upset,” he noted. “This will help you calm down. And before you keep arguing with me, I’ll promise that I won’t make you come, unless you ask me to. Does that make you feel better?”

  I eyed him warily, not trusting him for a second. “What are you going to do to me? I don’t want to go back into that torture room.”

  “It’s not a torture room,” he said calmly. “But no, we won’t go in there. I want you to relax, not get more worked up. No more questions,” he announced before I could come up with another rebuttal. “Come with me.”

  It wasn’t like I really had a choice, because he simply picked me up and carried me. He kept doing that, like I weighed nothing more than a doll. I was a toy he could pick up when he wanted to play with me.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled up at him.

  The bastard laughed. “You really are cute when you’re angry.”

  “You think I’m cute when I’m angry. You think I’m pretty when I cry. You’re messed up, you know that, right?”

  “Yes, so you’ve told me,” he said, still amused rather than disturbed by my barbed comments. “I’d like to
see you smile, too, but I don’t think that will happen for a while yet.”

  I gaped at him. “You think I’m going to smile for you?”

  “I think you’ll settle down and find a way to be happy with me. Once you adjust and accept your place here.”

  “Accept my place?” I demanded, slapping his chest in a burst of anger.

  He clicked his tongue at me. “That wasn’t very nice. But you’re not trying very hard, either. You’re upset, and I’m going to make you feel better.”

  “Short of releasing me, that’s not going to happen,” I informed him. “Do you really think I’m going to feel better about being trapped with a sadistic psycho?”

  “Mind your tongue,” he said sharply. “I’ve indulged you too much. You will speak to me with respect.”

  “Right,” I said, unable to bite back the sarcasm. “You’ve been so indulgent with me. Beating me, violating me, chaining me up. You’re so nice,” I finished spitefully, using Lauren’s description of him.

  He set me on my feet and stared down at me, his dark eyes curious rather than reproving. “You really can’t stop yourself, can you? You’re not capable of holding in your thoughts, even knowing they could get you into trouble. I think a little discipline will be good for you. You can learn some self-control over these tics of yours.”

  I instantly clapped my hands over my bottom. “I don’t want you to punish me again.”

  He smoothed his hand over my hair, reassuring. “Discipline doesn’t necessarily mean punishment. Now, try your best to be quiet and stay right here.”

  He stepped away from me, and I finally was able to assess where he’d placed me. We were in the sitting room, and he’d positioned me in the farthest corner from the door to the torture room. Relief washed through me, strong enough to make my fingers tremble. I hadn’t realized just how much fear was building in my chest until it finally released. He really wasn’t going to take me in there.