hair and intimately began messaging my scalp. My head leaned into his caress, wanting the relief his hand was invoking on my tender head. I didn’t want any part of the game he was playing, but my body’s reaction to his touch proved that he had this power over me from the very beginning.
I turned my head to the side, away from him as hot tears streamed their way down the sides of my face.
It didn’t end there.
He had only just begun to toy with me.
Suddenly, his fingers were softly rubbing where he’d just slapped me.
In comfort.
In pleasure.
In this twisted power struggle of how much he already owned me.
I moaned, even though I wanted to yell, even though I wanted to break down, even though I wanted to hate him with every ounce of my body.
His control.
His touch.
It was wreaking havoc on my entire being.
“Please…” I whispered, “Please…”
“Please what, pet?”
I didn’t know what to say.
What to think.
My mind acted on its own, and I fought against his skilled fingers.
“No!” I screamed this time, louder than before.
He chuckled against my back, working my clit, knowing exactly how to touch my pussy.
“No!”
The bastard didn’t let up, and my defiance only made him work harder. Simply proving that there was nothing he couldn’t just steal from me if he wanted to.
Faster and harder, he manipulated me in this sick game of authority that I wanted to escape, but I was trapped in this room.
In his arms.
In his hands.
I tried to manage my emotions that were being solely governed by his voice, by his touch, by his erection that was still pressing into my ass.
“You’re going to come for me, Juliet. And then you’re going to thank me.”
His words were fueled by my fire.
My restraint to prove him wrong.
But it was impossible.
He was too skilled.
Too precise.
Easily playing me like I played the piano.
Holding me tighter, firmer, never wanting me to feel anything other than what he desired. He roughly and determinedly moved his fingers, making me groan out in frustration and surrender. He was going to make me do it just to show me that he could.
My legs trembled.
My core locked up.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head.
I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Resist it.
I saw stars as I came apart from the most intense orgasm I had ever felt.
“Good girl, Juliet,” he praised me as much as he punished, and I knew it was just the beginning.
I laid there against him, immobile, lax, complacent.
“Now, hold still.”
My body shuddered as he continued to mark me, cutting the ties of my hands.
When he was done, he once again stood in front of me before crouching to my level. For the first time, I could see him, really take a good look at him. His hair was dark and slicked back, emphasizing his chiseled cheekbones and five o’clock shadow. His broad shoulders and muscular chest were a few of the things I noticed as my gaze found the cross tattooed on his neck. That captured my attention the most, considering he was holding me hostage with a religious sacrament forever embedded onto his skin.
Bringing my attention back to his lips, he slid his wet fingers into his mouth and groaned in satisfaction.
My cheeks burned.
I was confused—both embarrassed and aroused.
Torn.
Sedated.
Was this his plan?
When he realized I appreciated his ruggedly handsome appearance, he grinned. It must have been my curious gaze that I couldn’t hide from him. Not when he’d just stolen another part of me which he now owned as well.
With his stare narrowed in, he looked deep into my eyes and bit, “I won’t love you. Ever.” His jaw clenched. “Make no mistake, though, your days as Juliet Sinacore are finished. But your days as my pet have only just begun.” He nodded toward the piano. Then ordered, “Play for me, Juliet, but first, where’s my thank you for making you come?”
Instead of fighting for my emotions, my freedom, my hatred for him, I gave in to his request. “Thank you,” I breathed out before turning to the piano.
Seeking refuge in music and not his wicked games.
CHAPTER TWO
Donovan
She did well. Better than I thought she would. After all this time, I finally had her. After four years of waiting for her, she was now a twenty-two-year-old woman.
A Sinacore.
I wanted her.
I had always, always wanted her.
Her innocence.
Her beauty.
Her body.
I’d been counting down the days to have her here with me. Away from everyone—her family, her friends—no one would find her. I made sure of it.
Images of