Chapter 9
Chastity
A thrumof need zips through me as his fingers continue to torment me. I pull back, dragging the sheet up my body to conceal myself the best way I can until I can climb out of the cage. His eyes follow my every movement, and I wonder if I’m doing the wrong thing. He can’t punish me for something he didn’t even say, right? Even as the thoughts muddle my brain, my lower half perks right up. Since when did the thought of punishment get me all tingly?
Choosing to ignore it, I turn around in the tight space and crawl to the door, waiting for him to unlock it. It’s my turn to stare as he squats down, his powerful thighs bulging against the fabric of his dress pants. Did he even own sweats? The few times I’ve seen him, he’s been dressed up, and I’ve been either naked or less than presentable. It’s not fair for a man to look so good all the time.
The door swings open, and I ease my way through, helped forward by his strong hands lifting me out. As he pulls me towards him, the sheet begins to slide down. With a frantic motion, I reach to grab it, not wanting him to see me like this. Not while I’m lucid and aware. Not when I have the faculties to keep it from happening.
“Stop.”
It’s as if his words have a direct link to my brain. My hands still as the sheet keeps falling down -a bit here, a gape there - helpless against gravity. Why can’t I resist him, fight him? How does he have this hold on me? It has to be the arousal. Once I can get off, I’ll be back in the right brain space to fight him. I just know it.
“Good girl.”
A groan slips past my lips before I can catch it, and I curse the man that should be standing guard at the tunnel between my brain and mouth. How dare he actually let that through? Another cramp of arousal slams into me at his words. I lock my knees together, desperate to hide the proof of how much he’s turning me on. This is sick and depraved. I know it in my core, but I can’t seem to resist the allure of his voice - deep, growly, and one hundred percent in command.
Perhaps if I try hard enough, I can convince myself that it’s not arousal but relief at not being punished. I don’t want to examine his words and why they undo me like that. It’s too dangerous.
“I want you to place your hands on your head and stretch your elbows back as far as you can.”
I hesitate. Will he tie me up again? Do I actually want that?
“I’m waiting, young lady.”
Millimeter by millimeter, my hands climb up. I know by the time I get to my head, the sheet’s coming down. Scrunching my eyes shut, I wait for the slide of cotton on skin, not wanting to see the lust flare in his eyes when it does. Though I don’t see it, I hear it in the sharp inhale of his breath at my body being bared to his gaze
Hands skim my sides, the touch barely a whisper of skin on skin, and yet, it burns like fire racing across my flesh. Biting my lower lip, I stifle a whimper as it claws at my throat. It isn’t fair. How can this stranger illicit feelings I've never had before - and force me to at that? When his hands cup my breasts, white fills my vision. I need to move. Need to make this sensation stop. It’s too much. Too overwhelming.
“I didn’t say you could lower your hands.”
Had I? I open my eyes and look down, hands limp by my side. I don’t recall moving, and yet, the evidence speaks for itself.
“Spread your legs for me and put your hands back on your head.”
His voice is pure sin as he whispers his order into my ear. Shuddering, I move my legs apart but just an inch. Enough to satisfy the need to open him but not enough to make myself even more vulnerable than I already am.
“I’m sure you can do better than that,” he purrs before easing his way behind me and sliding his hand around my waist. “Open.” His voice changes from cajoling to demanding, his fingers digging into my stomach.
Another inch. That’s all I can give him. Anymore, and I’m afraid of what will happen. He slides his hand further down, cupping my mound. He’s nowhere near where he needs to be and yet far too close.
“I would rather you comply without punishment, dear.” He pauses to dig his fingers into the tender flesh gripping me in an implacable hold. “But do know I have no problem motivating you.”
Fog creeps in as the pain sends me back to that place. Back to the memories I’d rather die than relive. Pleasure floods my system, white-hot, yanking me back to him - back to my new tormentor.
“You will remain present with me. Is that understood?”
Tears gather in my eyes as I shake my head. I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it. Nothing about him, me, this, makes sense. He slides his palm against my cheek, his eyes flashing with what I hope is pity, but it’s gone before I can be sure.
“Safe. Secure. Owned.”
The panic that had been filling me starts to dissipate at his words. A false calm fills me, so surreal since I know it’s not coming from me.
“Be a good girl for me and spread your legs. I’d hate this morning to start with a punishment. As always, the choice will be yours.”
It’s the choice that causes me the most issues. If I was ordered, forced, it would be different. Instead, he’s leaving it to me. Is it so wrong to not choose to hurt? My face heats up as I spread my legs wide, giving him what he wants.
“That’s my good girl.”
His fingers tap my clit, making my legs quiver, but the pleasure of his touch is nothing like the pleasure of his words. A buzzing fills my ears as he trips his fingers over my sensitive bundle. All I can think about is finally reaching that pinnacle. He’s denied me since last night; surely he’ll let me get off now. Right?
“I want you to stay just like that. Don’t move an inch.”
His words permeate my brain, setting something off like a tripwire. Since when did I obey a man like this? Since when did pleasure override rational thought? That’s what got me into this mess in the first place. I stay still as he turns his back to me, assuming I’ll obey him. And why wouldn’t he? Except for that slap heard around the world, I’ve been his good girl. I’ve let him touch me, maul me, bind me. That ends now.
I look down at my legs, willing them to move. He rummages around in a cabinet at the far wall, not paying me any attention. This is my chance. If I don’t take it, I’ll forever wonder if I could have gotten away. I’m not drugged this time. I actually have a fighting chance! Now, if only I can get my body to move. Inch by inch, I ease my legs together and lower my hands. He shifts a bit but still doesn’t turn around.
Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked. I bolt for the door, the prayer like a mantra in my head. The knob turns with ease, and I glance over at Doctor Rayne, noting the look of disappointment on his face. It’s not anger like I expected. I pause as he stalks towards me, his long legs eating up the distance between us. It’s now or never.
Darting into the hall, I head to the right, where sounds are coming from. Whipping my head back, I watch as he walks out behind me, never rushing, never hurrying. Why isn’t he running after me? I dodge a short, Grecian-looking column, grazing it with my shoulder enough to send the plant on top wobbling. I half consider tossing the plant back at him, hoping to keep the distance between, but shoot that right out. I’m not destructive. Besides, just because he’s trying to imprison me doesn’t mean I need to break his stuff. He hasn’t been overly violent with me. That should count for something.
I scramble forward, coming to a crossroads. Why the hell are there so many rooms in this house? I veer to the left, looking for any open door that I can duck in and lock, but no such luck. The few doors down this corridor are already shut, and I don’t have enough time to try each handle. The hallway finally ends down into what must be a foyer.
Golden light spills out of a decorative glass piece in what looks like a solid, wood door. Finally, freedom is near. I’m so consumed with getting out that I don’t notice the man walking just opposite of me until we collide with a sickening thud. Pain explodes in my shoulder, but not enough to stop me. Not when I’m this close. I reach out to the door, my fingers grazing the knob when I’m yanked back into a wall of solid muscle.
The press of his thick, defined pecs, the smell of his spicy cologne, all of it is too much - too familiar. My mind propels backward to that night, the night I was kidnapped. Screeching until my throat is hoarse, I lash out with my hand, my fingers curved into talons, swiping at anything I can come into contact with. I’m vaguely aware of a thick, wet substance under my nails, but I don’t care. All I can think about is getting free. I can never be their whore again. I would just die.
“Unhand her.”