Page 8 of Captivated with Them

“Hello, darlin’,” the man who’d grabbed me crooned. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Yes, thing. That was what they thought of us.

The man pulled me onto his knee, so I was facing away from him. He yanked down the front of my dress, exposing my breasts. His big, meaty palms covered them, squeezing as if he was kneading dough rather than touching another person. I did my best not to grimace at the feel of his sweat against my skin.

The other two girls had been pulled onto the laps of Frankie Capello’s other guests. They both looked how I felt as the men they’d been handed over to bellowed laughter and groped them.

I glared at Frankie Capello across the table, hating him for putting us through this.

These men were all the same. All trying to out-do each other. To be richer and more powerful than their counterparts. The way they interacted was nothing like Kodee, Ryan, and Dillon. It was never a competition with the guys. They cared about each other and watched each other’s backs.

I let my eyes slip shut and tried to picture them around the table instead of these bastards. Kodee, with his broad shoulders, soulful brown eyes, and full lips. Blond, blue-eyed Ryan, his jaw always slightly tightened from pain, but too strong to give voice to it. And Dillon, with his easy, cheeky smile, and thick mass of dark hair. I remembered his sexy way of biting his lower lip when he was thinking about what he wanted to do to me.

In my head, each of the guys had taken the places of the three men sitting around the table. The problem was, the man sitting at the top of the table was still Frankie, and I didn’t have anyone I could mentally replace him with. Maybe I should put myself there. The nobody girl. The girl without a birthday or a real identity. Perhaps she should be the one sitting at the head of the table, looking down over her men.

Though it had only been my imagination, I’d yearned for them on a very real level, and I physically ached with their loss. Would we ever get that again? Would the four of us ever get to sit around a dining table again, no sex, just being in each other’s company? I didn’t think I’d ever wanted anything so badly.

Fingers pinching my nipples hard enough to hurt yanked me from my reverie.

“Come on, darlin’,” the man slurred. “Make me feel good.”

Liquor-laced breath washed over me, a hint of cigar smoke beneath it. I knew if he tried to kiss me, his lips would be wet and rubbery, and I did my best not to pull a face to show my disgust.

He moved his hands from my breasts to grab my waist and jam me onto his lap. He rocked his hips, grinding his crotch against me, though I certainly couldn’t feel anything hard or big enough to write home about.

This one had clearly had too much to drink. Even my ass rubbing all over his cock wasn’t making him hard.

He voiced his frustration. “Get on your knees. Use your mouth on me. Your skinny little body isn’t doing anything for me.”

“I don’t think it’s my body that’s the problem,” I retorted.

The words had leaped from my mouth before I’d even thought them through. Fuck. I’d never have considered saying something like that to one of these men before I’d spent time with the guys. They’d taught me not to be afraid of letting people know my true feelings. I could even feel the aghast stares of the other girls, knowing I’d just asked for trouble.

“Fucking bitch.”

He shoved me off him but grabbed me again before I got the chance to stumble away. The fingers of one hand wrapped around my throat, and he pulled back his other arm, threatening me with a balled fist. I reared back as best I could, expecting to feel the explosion of a broken nose. Somewhere in the room, one of the other girls screamed.

Frankie Capello darted from the other end of the table and caught the man’s arm.

“This one has to appear in court in less than a week, and she has a meeting with the District Attorney’s Office to attend. How the fuck do you think it’s going to look if she turns up with a broken nose or missing teeth?”

I sucked in a breath as best I could with the man’s fingers wrapped around my throat. My dress still hung around my waist, my tits bared to the whole room, but I didn’t even care.

A meeting with the D.A.? That was the first I’d heard of it. I assumed the meeting wouldn’t happen here, which meant I would be taken out of this house. If only there was a way for me to get a message to Kodee and Ryan and let them know where I would be. I wasn’t expecting them to attempt a rescue or anything like that, but just catching a glimpse of them in the distance would be enough to give me a moment to cling to.

Could I get a message out of here?

“I’m not interested in your stupid whores, anyway,” the man said, releasing me. “This meeting is done, as far as I’m concerned.”

He jerked his chin at the other two men. Both seemed reluctant to join their boss, exchanging glances. I got the sense they were doing their best not to roll their eyes, as though they were used to this kind of scene, their boss spoiling their fun.

But the relief on the faces of the other girls was palpable. I wanted to tell them not to get too comfortable—this certainly wouldn’t be the last time their company would be requested—but I was also thankful we’d all be left alone to sleep tonight.

“Get out, all of you.” Frankie was clearly pissed that his friend’s erectile issues had ruined his night. “Go back to your rooms.”

His henchmen closed back in around us. They didn’t trust us to find our ways back there ourselves. It was fair enough. Though I couldn’t risk attempting an escape, not when I knew they had Dillon locked up somewhere, I highly doubted the Capellos had anything like that kind of leverage. If there was any chance of escape, I hoped they would take it.

Like sheep, we were herded back together and into the corridor we’d originally been brought down. I’d yanked the front of my dress back up, covering myself, though I could still feel the sweaty imprints of the man’s palms against my skin. Even though he’d barely touched me, I knew I’d spend the next hour standing beneath the shower, trying to scrub the memory away.

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