My Sweet Captive Read online

  Her tears spilled over, glistening on her lovely skin before falling into her flame-red hair.

  She didn’t answer immediately, so I fixed her with my most forbidding stare. “Tell me.”

  That little whimper that had already tempted me slipped through her lips, and she managed a shaky nod. Her capitulation sent dark satisfaction coursing through me. I softened toward her, pleased with her surrender.

  “In the future, I will expect a verbal answer,” I told her. “You belong to me now, Samantha. Defiance will lead to punishment. Obedience will be rewarded. You choose whichever you want. I might seem like a harsh Master, but I’m fair. Your behavior has consequences, either painful or pleasurable for you.”

  “Please,” she choked out. “I can’t… I don’t… Don’t…” Her breaths turned sharp and shallow as her panic began to take hold of her again. She wasn’t drawing in enough air, and I didn’t want her to faint again.

  I cupped her face with both hands, bracketing her cheeks. “Breathe,” I ordered, lightly stroking her smooth skin, both to soothe her and to satisfy my own curiosity. She was even softer than she appeared, delicate. I could break her with my bear hands.

  But that would be a waste. I had so many more deviant ways I wanted to touch her.

  She still wasn’t calming, so I allowed myself to explore further, threading my fingers through her silken hair and lightly massaging her scalp.

  “Breathe with me,” I ordered gently. I drew in a slow, deep breath, and she mirrored me. “Again.” She continued to comply, and after a while, her breathing returned to a more natural rhythm. She went limp against the mattress, all of the fight finally leaving her. Her eyes glazed over slightly as exhaustion claimed her.

  I wanted to keep touching, exploring. But I was mindful of her injury. I needed to take care of her immediate needs before I could satisfy my own desires.

  “Better,” I nodded my approval and returned my attention to my task. I picked up the cloth I’d been using to clean the cut before she’d roused. “You’re still bleeding. I’m going to clean you up. This will sting a little. Stay still.”

  I kept one hand against her cheek, hooking my thumb beneath her jaw to lock her in place. Dried blood was smeared on her porcelain cheek where Cristian’s knife had pierced her skin when he threatened to give her a scar to match my own.

  I smothered my fury and shoved the memory down. Samantha was mine now, and I wouldn’t allow him to harm her again.

  I touched the cloth to the tiny cut, and she hissed in pain. But she didn’t move away.

  “Good girl,” I praised, pleased that she wasn’t fighting me anymore. It seemed she would respond to a firm but fair hand. That would make things easier for her in the coming days.

  I moved my attention to the cut on her collarbone. This one was more painful for her, and she made little keening noises through clenched teeth as I worked. I shushed her, the soft sound meant to comfort rather than rebuke.

  When I was satisfied that the cut wouldn’t become infected, I drew back and considered her for a long moment. Her lovely eyes were still wide and frightened, but pain lingered in the fine lines around them. She shuddered, her terror still riding her hard.

  I frowned and smoothed away the crease in her brow with my fingertips.

  “You’re hurting,” I observed. “You didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

  I wouldn’t put her through any more of the pain that Cristian had inflicted. I reached for the sedative. She cringed away from the syringe.

  “My brother gave me this in case I needed to subdue you, but it will take away your pain. I told you, I’m a fair Master. I won’t hurt you if you don’t earn a punishment.”

  “I don’t want it,” she said on a tight whisper.

  “I decide what’s best for you from now on.”

  “Please,” she begged, her body tensing again.

  Unconcerned with her pleas, I carefully slid the needle into her arm. “Hush now, cosita. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

  She made a slurred sound of soft defiance, but her tension eased. I stroked her hair back from her forehead, soothing her as she slipped into unconsciousness.

  When I was certain that she wouldn’t feel any pain, I closed the wound before freeing her from the cuffs. Then, I removed her ruined shirt and bra. I worked methodically as I stripped her, careful not to touch her sexually. I had no desire to explore her body when she was drugged. I wanted her fully aware when I began demonstrating my claim over her, my control.

  I tucked her beneath the sheets. I should return to my work. She wasn’t going anywhere and couldn’t try to escape while drugged.

  But I decided I’d rather stay near her, just in case. I got ready for bed and stripped off my own clothes, deciding to wear sweatpants at the last minute rather than sleeping naked beside her. I didn’t want to frighten her too badly when she awoke. I didn’t want her to think I’d violated her in the night when she couldn’t resist me.

  The very thought made me sick.

  I told myself I wouldn’t touch her again until she was conscious, but my body shaped itself around hers in the night.

  * * *

  I didn’t move away from her when I awoke the next morning. Instead, I studied the way the light streaming from the floor-to-ceiling windows played through her hair, the way it illuminated her ivory skin, making her dusting of freckles stand out. She was cute when she was like this: soft and sleepy in my arms.

  Although I found myself wanting to see her wide blue eyes again. They were remarkable, shining from within like aquamarine gemstones.

  She stirred beside me and snuggled closer. A strange sensation tugged at my scar, and I realized I was smiling. It felt odd, unfamiliar.

  Her brow furrowed, her eyes remaining closed for a few seconds longer as she came back to awareness.

  Then her eyes snapped open, and she jerked upright. I allowed my arm to fall away from her chest, although I could have easily kept her pinned beside me. I was curious to see what she would do next. She’d proven feisty thus far, brave and defiant. But reasonable and complaint when she realized she couldn’t fight me.

  Would that same fire persist this morning? Or would she tremble and cry?

  I wasn’t sure which outcome I’d prefer. I found her especially alluring with pretty tears glistening on her cheeks.

  She gasped and scrambled away from me, tumbling off the bed to fall on her ass. I smothered a laugh as she pushed up onto her feet and began to back away. Her eyes were wide and wary when they locked on mine.

  Beautiful.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her nipples pebbled. I wasn’t sure if it was in response to cool air or the weight of my gaze on her. She clapped her hands over her breasts and pussy, trying to hide herself from me.

  She really was cute.

  Her eyes began to shine, tears pooling at the corners. Something dark stirred inside my chest, a deep, perverse satisfaction.

  “I thought you were my blanket,” she blurted out.

  My smile widened, stretching my scar strangely. I certainly hadn’t expected her to say anything like that. I propped up on one elbow and studied her more intently, fascinated. No woman had ever reacted like this when realizing she was trapped with a monster.

  “Excuse me?”

  She took a hasty step back, clutching her hands tighter against herself. “I have a weighted blanket. At home. It helps with anxiety. Your arm was heavy. I thought it was my blanket. That’s why I… Stop looking at me!” she shouted.

  I smothered the laughter that threatened to bubble up. “I like looking at what’s mine,” I told her truthfully.

  “I’m not yours,” she defied me, although her tone was high and thin rather than acidic.

  I couldn’t allow that kind of defiance of my claim over her. I finally got out of bed and prowled toward her.

  Her remarkable eyes flicked down my body. I wished her eyes were widening in response to my physique, but I knew she wa
s only seeing the raised scars that marred my chest and abdomen.

  But I was too intrigued by her to get caught up in my dark memories.

  She shrank back, trembling.

  “My brother was right,” I said aloud. “Your eyes are lovely when you’re frightened. Wide and blue. Like a pretty doll.” I took another step toward her. “Am I so terrifying, sirenita?” The Colombian endearment slipped off my tongue without a thought.

  She dodged back, but there was nowhere for her to go. Her back hit the window, and she glanced behind her at the Chicago skyline. She yelped and tried to push away from the dizzying view, but I had closed the distance between us. She smacked into my chest, but I didn’t give her the opportunity to evade me.

  Her fighting spirit returned. I saw it in the flash of her eyes just before she attacked. Her fist swung wildly, and I didn’t bother to dodge back. She lightly connected with my jaw, but I barely felt the impact. Then she brought her knee up. I wasn’t willing to allow that particular blow to land. I shifted so my thigh blocked her before she could knee me in the balls.

  I frowned down at her in disapproval. I couldn’t let that slide. I might find her efforts to fight me intriguing, but she needed to learn that I wouldn’t permit her to truly harm me.

  I handled her carefully but firmly as I gripped her waist and turned her away from me. I dropped to my knees, taking her down with me and positioning her over my thighs so her pert little ass was raised for my discipline.

  She continued to struggle, trying to push up onto her hands and knees. I caught her wrists and secured them at the small of her back with one hand. Without her hands to support her, she folded over my lap, her cheek coming to rest on the plush carpet.

  She made a fierce little sound, like an angry kitten. I allowed myself a moment to indulge in the sound before bringing my hand down on her ass, administering her first spanking. She shrieked and writhed, kicking out as she tried to evade the sting of my palm.

  But she wasn’t going anywhere. She would feel the heat of my discipline and learn her lesson. “Don’t ever try that again,” I admonished. “You will not fight me.” I struck her upper thigh, and she howled out her rage. “You belong to me. You will accept your place.”

  “Stop fucking saying that!” she shouted.

  I increased the intensity of my next blow, ensuring she felt the sting of my rebuke. “I get to say what I want. I get to do what I want. You will learn to mind your tongue. You will learn to behave. You’re mine, cosita. Mine to play with. Mine to punish. Just mine.”

  A strange kind of fever overtook me as I spoke the words, and my cock began to stiffen against her belly.

  “No,” she tried to refuse, but the word came out on a low moan. I became aware of the musky scent of feminine arousal.

  Perfect. Samantha responded to a little carnal pain. She might not realize it, but she liked being dominated. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, but I was pleased by her response.

  Finally, she stilled her struggles, and a harsh sob left her chest. I immediately stopped spanking her and smoothed my palm over her burning flesh. It was meant to soothe her, but I enjoyed the heat emanating from her reddened ass. I did love seeing the glow of my discipline on her pale skin. It was every bit as lovely as I’d imagined.

  “There,” I praised. “Isn’t that better? Don’t try to hurt me again, Samantha.”

  I continued stroking her, and she let out a throaty groan. I was sure she didn’t realize what she was doing, but her thighs parted slightly, inviting me to touch her needy pussy. Taking advantage of the silent invitation, I touched two fingers against her soaked lower lips, exploring the silky wetness that coated them.

  “You’re wet,” I confirmed. “We are going to get along, sirenita.”

  “Don’t,” she squeaked, twisting against me as she renewed her struggles.

  Her movements stimulated my hard cock, tormenting me. I hissed out a breath and tightened my grip on her. “Stop grinding against me,” I ordered. She was rubbing herself against me, seeking more stimulation even as she begged me to stop. “You want me touch your little clit, greedy girl?” I asked roughly, barely able to contain my desire.

  She stiffened, her entire body going rigid. Despite her instinctive lustful reaction to my discipline, I’d spooked her. Her skin pebbled, and she began to shake violently.

  This wasn’t the reaction I’d wanted at all. My desire cooled, and I turned her body so I could cradle her against my chest. I stroked her chilled skin, murmuring to her in Spanish. She might not understand the words, but I slipped into my native tongue without thinking about it.

  She drew in a shuddering breath, and her shaking lessened to a light tremble.

  “You’re okay,” I assured her in English. “Don’t be afraid.”

  She blinked, the terror clearing from her eyes to be replaced with hollow defeat. Her tears no longer pleased me. Not like this.

  “Let me go,” she whispered brokenly.

  “That’s not going to happen.” I spoke to her calmly, trying to soften the fear I knew my words would inflict.

  “Stop touching me,” she begged.

  That wasn’t what she needed. And it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to hold her, to soothe her. “I will touch you whenever and however I want.” I studied her frightened eyes for a moment longer. Then I sighed, and I finally released her. “We will work on this later,” I promised.

  She shoved up onto her feet and took several steps back from me, watching me like a wary, cornered animal. Her gaze flicked toward the closed bedroom door.

  “No,” I told her sternly. “Don’t try it, or I’ll spank you again. Go wash away those tears.” I gestured in the direction of the bathroom. She needed a little space from me, and I’d allow it. For now.

  She darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it behind her as though that could keep me out if I wanted to get to her.

  I heard water running for a few minutes. Then silence. The lock finally slid back, but she didn’t emerge. I allowed her some time to collect herself, but she stayed too long. She was testing me, and I couldn’t allow that.

  “Samantha?” I prompted. “Come out of there.”

  A little sniffling noise sounded through the door. She was crying, trying to hide from me. I couldn’t allow that.

  “Come out here. Now, cosita.” I imbued the last with warning. She needed to understand that I wouldn’t hesitate to come in and retrieve her. Nothing she did could keep me from getting to her, from holding her and touching her if I wanted to.

  She didn’t respond in any way. I sighed, resigning myself to going in if she didn’t come out in the next ten seconds. “You will regret this. You must learn to obey me, even if you’re scared or upset. I’m giving you one last chance. Come.”

  She didn’t respond. She didn’t obey.

  I opened the door, expecting to find her huddled and weeping. Instead, she launched herself at me with a maddened shriek. Something sharp and silver glinted in her hand, and I dodged back just in time to prevent the razorblade from nicking my throat. Her aim had been off, and she wouldn’t have done any real damage. As it was, the blade grazed a thin, shallow line down my chest.

  She paused, her eyes fixing on the blood that welled up from the tiny cut. She froze in shock. Maybe she had intended to cut my throat, but it seemed she didn’t have it in her. She might have just been sloppy, but her reaction to drawing my blood let me know she’d never truly hurt anyone before.

  In her moment of hesitation, I grabbed her wrist. I barely had to squeeze before the razorblade dropped from her fingers to fall harmlessly on the carpet.

  She might have expected my ire at her half-hearted attempt on my life, but all I felt was mild disappointment that she’d done something so foolish. If anything, her bravery and resultant shock at harming me intrigued me more than ever. She didn’t strike me as a liar, but she couldn’t possibly be an FBI field agent if she couldn’t stomach hurting a man.

  Keepin
g my hold on her wrist, I took a step toward her. She dodged back.

  “I cut you,” she blurted, her eyes clouding with confusion.

  “You did,” I responded calmly. She’d have to be punished for her little transgression, no matter how remorseful she appeared. “Are you really so eager for another spanking already? Did you enjoy it so much? I’ll have to devise more clever punishments for you.” Another strange smile tugged at my scar. “We are going to get along well.”

  “Stop saying that,” she demanded, her voice hitching. “I don’t want you to spank me. I don’t want you to touch me.”

  She might think those things, but they were outright lies.

  I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Her back hit the wall, and I captured both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. Her little body was trapped by mine, caged in by my much larger frame. I liked how small she felt in my hold, how helpless. I liked how she stared up at me with wide eyes as she drew in panting breaths.

  “Liar,” I informed her smoothly. “I won’t tolerate that, either. You enjoyed your spanking.” I wedged my thigh between hers, forcing her legs apart. I reached between us with my free hand and lightly slapped her pussy.

  She let out a strangled cry. Her eyes remained wide with disbelief, but on the second slap, they clouded over with confusion. Her lower lips would be burning and tingling. If her reaction was anything like it had been when I’d spanked her before, she’d become aroused by the punitive touch.

  I stared down at her, watching her reactions closely. I scented her wetness again.

  She bucked in my hold, her body torn between a desire for escape and a yearning to seep more of the burning heat of my hand. Her writhing into me caused my palm to rub against her clit, and I pressed forward, allowing her to stimulate herself.

  She gasped and shivered. Her eyes darkened with lust, but her brow furrowed with distress.

  “What are you so afraid of, cosita? The pain or the pleasure?”