she doesn’t want to go. I think she’s perfectly happy where she is, pressed against me.
I lean down to nuzzle her neck. She cranes her head a little to give me room and I smile against her skin.
I may have kidnapped her, but she was more than willing; in fact, she would’ve begged me to take her. I lick the length of her throat and a moan escapes her. Her hands hold onto the fabric of my shirt, desperate for more, desperate for me. Kissing and sucking her skin, I reach for her hair and pull it hard enough to hurt, but her eyes are hooded and her lips part in an invitation. This beautiful girl likes when I’m rough with her. “Do you really?” I finally murmur against her lips. “Do you want to go back and be locked in a place where you spend your days being afraid of something you don’t even know?”
“Isn’t that what will happen to me here?”
Looking at her narrowed eyes, I chuckle. Her breath quickens, her chest rubs mine, creating a friction between us. I watch her bright blue eyes intently as she bites her bottom lip. A smirk spreads over my face when I feel her trying to press her thighs together, but instead, she squeezes my leg between hers and her eyes close as she sighs.
Pressing my leg where she desperately wants it, I finally answer her. “Here, I can set your body free. Here, you can know what you should be scared of and face your fears.”
“What should I be scared of?”
“Me, my diamond. Me.”
And what will happen to you when I get bored with you. I add silently, before I capture her lips with mine, welcoming her to my world of lust and depravity.
Chapter Thirteen
Ramona
Who would be happy about being kidnapped?
What does it mean to be happy about something so terrifying and traumatizing?
Yet, here I am, getting out of the pool with the last rays of the sun washing over my wet skin. The bikini I’m wearing is too provocative for someone who is kidnapped. The relaxed state I feel as his captive is ridiculous, but I feel it nonetheless, and as I see Luca watching me through the sliding doors of his bedroom, a smile teases my lips. He sits on the couch like he holds all the power in his hands. Like he knows all the secrets no one else is privy to.
I know I shouldn’t be happy to see him, shouldn’t want to smile when he shows me how much he wants me. I shouldn’t want him or the pleasure he gives me every day I wake up and every night before I pass out fully sated, but I do.
Oh, how much I do.
My mouth goes dry and desire thrums in my veins as he, not so discreetly, adjusts his erection as I stroll closer to him. I’ve tasted him too many times to count over the last three months I’ve been living with him. I should think of this as captivity, but it’s difficult to think of it that way when my body has felt nothing but pleasure.
That man’s mouth has kissed and licked every single inch of me. His fingers have touched, caressed, and probed every pleasurable spot on my body, all the while making me beg for him to fully take me. But he won’t. He’s owned me in every possible way with his touch and his mouth, but he hasn’t given me what I actually crave.
I shudder, remembering this morning. How he woke me up with his head between my thighs and then came all over my naked body. But it’s still not enough. I want to feel him inside me. I want him to fill me, claim me as his.
And I know I’m not right in the head for wanting any of these things.
I should be repulsed by him. By the idea of being touched by him since he took me away from my parents, from my home, and locked me in this extraordinary penthouse. Yet, I feel none of those things, no matter how much I try to talk myself into feeling some kind of dislike.
I love being here.
I love being the object of his depraved desires.
I love feeling wanted by this gorgeous, dangerous, and powerful man.
And I love that he wants me so much that he kidnapped me.
Now, I want him to take me. Own me. Use me.
I slowly open the doors and walk toward where he sits. When