“We’re not going to kill her.” Rourke shot me an angry glance. “We’re just going to scare her a little bit and get what we need to prove our innocence.”
“She’s not going to betray her father.” I poured myself a drink. “There’s no fucking way. She keeps trying to apologize to us, but not once has she offered to make it right.”
“Yeah, I know.” I nodded. “She tried to talk me into running—as if I want to spend the rest of my life looking over my fucking shoulder.”
“So, what are we going to do? Get a video of her confession when she doesn’t know we’re recording her?” I looked over at my burner phone and lifted the glass to my lips.
“No.” Rourke shook his head back and forth. “I know where I fucked up with her and I won’t make that mistake again.”
“What do you mean?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I never broke her—not properly.” Rourke walked over and poured himself a drink, tapping his finger on the table in contemplation.
“I don’t know about all that shit man. I like to see her squirm and light a fire on her ass, but that’s as far as it goes.” I shrugged. “This whole Master thing—the really kinky shit. That’s all you.”
“Yeah, and I fucked it up.” Rourke exhaled sharply. “I kept looking into her eyes—feeling that connection—and I held back. I always held back. I should have never let her call me Master when she was just doing it because I liked it. It should have been from the soul—not because she was horny.”
“So—what then? You’re going to break her now—in this cabin? We can’t stay long. At some point, a hunter will wander by—or a game warden.” I sipped my drink. “I’d prefer to just get the fucking confession and be done with it. If you’re going to start breaking her, you better get a move on it.”
“You underestimate me, Brody.” Rourke narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ve already started.”
Two years ago
“I thought you gave up on building your playroom—especially in this dump.” I walked into the spare bedroom and raised my eyebrows when I saw Rourke hard at work.
“I didn’t have a reason to keep going. None of the girls that we have been bringing home can appreciate it—now I have someone who can.” Rourke started dragging a bench to the middle of the room.
“You think the princess is going to let you strap her to that thing.” I walked over and picked up one of his leather whips. “Or let you use this on her?”
“She won’t just let me—she’s going to beg for it.” He nodded and stood upright after positioning the bench. “I’ve seen the look in her eyes every time she shows up here—she’s looking for someone to make her beg.”
“She doesn’t like being told what to do.” I shook my head back and forth. “I don’t see that changing just because you give her a spanking.”
“You’re the one who likes to spank the girls and make them cry.” Rourke winked at me. “My approach is a little more—delicate. It’s emotional—visceral.”
“Visca-what?” I raised my eyebrows. “Stop using words you don’t even know the meaning of—you grew up on the South Side just like me.”
“It’s complicated.” He put his hands on his hips. “I’ll need your help though. If I’m going to turn her into the good little submissive girl she wants to be—unless you’re ready to move on to next chick and leave this one to me.”
“Fuck no.” I shook my head back and forth. “There isn’t a girl in this city that has a pussy that sweet—certainly not one on the South Side. As long as she keeps walking through that door, I’m going to keep putting my dick in her.”
“How romantic.” Rourke scoffed.
“I don’t do romance. You know that.” I turned and started walking towards the door. “I still don’t think she’s going to like being told what to do though…”
“You’re wrong.” Rourke chuckled. “She just hasn’t had anyone tell her the right way.”
It had been a month since I first saw Anabelle at O’Malley’s Pub and approached her. I never expected the girl that looked like she was made of money to actually come home with me. I certainly didn’t expect her to keep coming back. I was starting to worry though because it didn’t look like she planned to stop making that trek to the South Side of Chicago anytime soon. That meant trouble because her daddy dearest was going to figure out where his little princess was running off to eventually. I wasn’t necessarily afraid of Adrian Prescott, but I knew what he was capable of.
And now Rourke’s building a damn playroom for her. What’s next? Will she start leaving her f
ucking toothbrush in the bathroom?
Rourke liked playing games with the girls he brought home—testing their limits—seeing what lurked beneath the surface. I didn’t really get off on that. I was dominant enough in bed with the palm of my hand—a whip wasn’t necessary. I didn’t think Rourke’s gut was telling him the right story about Anabelle though. She wasn’t like the other girls and she certainly wasn’t going to kneel—or beg—or any of the other things he liked. Not unless she was begging for one of us to fuck her harder—she loved doing that.
A few hours later
“Princess…” I opened the door and took a step back when I saw Anabelle walking up the steps.