Stealing Beauty (Stolen 1)

Positioned over his shoulder, I could barely see where we were going. I was disoriented, completely vulnerable. Carpeted stairs appeared beneath his feet, and we descended to a basement level. It was set beneath the house, but it was just as lavish and expansive as the main level.

I heard the click of a door latch disengaging, and we stepped into an unfamiliar room. Adrián hadn’t brought me down into this part of his home yet, and I didn’t know what to expect.

He flipped on the light, and I noted the plush crimson carpet beneath his shoes. Before I could lift my head to look around, the world spun. My bare feet sank into the carpet, and I grabbed at Adrián’s shoulders to steady myself.

He didn’t give me a moment to get my bearings. His hands fisted in my thin cotton camisole, jerking the soft fabric over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra—I’d only thrown on minimal comfy clothing to cover my body while I watched TV. My breasts were exposed, my nipples pebbling at the sudden rush of cool air. He didn’t pause to turn his attention to the needy buds. Instead, he gripped the band of my yoga pants and underwear, yanking them down my legs. I didn’t fight him as he stripped me; I compliantly stepped out of my pants, leaving me fully naked before him. He was still dressed in his perfectly tailored shirt and slacks. The contrast of his powerful, expensive clothes with my bared body made me feel more vulnerable than ever.

He still hadn’t spoken a word to me, but I didn’t question him again. He needed to subjugate me to find a sense of peace. Dominating me, owning me completely, seemed to calm him in a way nothing else could. Already, his movements were ruthless but controlled, easing from the stiff way he’d stalked me and grabbed me when I’d lounged on the couch.

He grasped my wrists and directed them over my head. I glanced up to study what he was doing to me. Worry stirred in my gut when he wrapped supple leather cuffs around my wrists, buckling them in place. The cuffs dangled from a chain bolted into the ceiling, securing my arms above me.

He drew in a shuddering breath, and my gaze snapped to his. He ran his fingers through my hair, his touch gentle and reverent. He pressed his forehead to mine, and his hands settled around my waist. He simply stared into my eyes for several long seconds, his breathing evening out as the last of the tension melted from his muscles. Having me bound like this soothed him. Knowing I couldn’t escape him brought him a sense of calm control.

I calmed, too, my trepidation easing as I fell into his glowing green gaze. I trusted Adrián completely. He was going to hurt me, but I trusted him.

“Mí conejita,” he murmured, his palms skimming up my sides to cup my breasts. I arched into his touch, welcoming more. “You are so beautiful.” His thumbs brushed over my peaked nipples, and pleasure lit up my system. Hot lines of desire shot from the throbbing buds to my clit, making it pulse in need.

He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before releasing my breasts and stepping away. I swayed toward him, craving his nearness. The chain rattled over my head, and the cuffs held me trapped in place. All I could do was watch him walk across the massive room, leaving me bound and shivering in the absence of his heat.

Finally, I looked past Adrián, studying my surroundings. Heavy, red velvet curtains lined the windowless cream walls. Several black-painted wood and metal apparatuses were set up around the room. Many were covered in padded red leather. I didn’t know their function, but I could guess. Based on the fact that Adrián had cuffs readily dangling from the ceiling, I assumed everything in this room could be used for some wicked sexual torment.

My sex grew slick in response. What would he do to me? In the last two days, he’d shown me dark, sensual pleasures I never could have imagined. All he’d used was rope and his strong hands. Now, he’d brought me into his personal sexual playground. I could only imagine the erotic torture he had in mind for me.

Adrián was studying something I couldn’t see, looking into the top drawer of an ebony chest. After a few seconds of consideration, he removed something from plastic packaging, taking it out along with a bottle of clear liquid. I didn’t understand what either item was for. One was a bulbous black object that seemed to be made of rubber. Adrián squeezed some of the thick liquid onto it, coating the surface until it was shiny and slick.

He returned to me, positioning himself at my side. His slippery fingers dipped down my belly, coming to rest on my clit. He didn’t apply pressure; he simply brushed against the needy nub with the lightest contact. I shifted my hips toward him, eager for him to rub me, to give me the earth-shattering pleasure I’d only ever known with him.