Page 9 of Darkest Sin

I swallow hard and nod, nerves blooming through me once again. I don’t doubt him for one second.

Unable to hold his stare a second longer, I drop my gaze to the open living space, glancing around in wonder. Though it’s not quite as enjoyable as it could be with my present company. “Might I ask what will be required of me?” I question as his movement across the room draws my attention.

He approaches a small table, and I watch as he fills a glass of whiskey and lifts it to his lips. He turns back to me, and his gaze darkens as he takes me in, reminding me that I have absolutely no idea how he intends to use me. “I have but one requirement,” he says, that accent so damn smooth. “That you cater to my every will and desire. When I eat, you eat. When I call for you, you come. And when I eat your pussy, you scream like you will never feel pleasure again.”

Holy fuck.

My breath catches in my throat, and I watch as that lethal stare drags over my body, every last hair standing on end. He strides toward me, stopping right in front of me, so damn close I feel his whiskey breath dancing upon my skin.

He holds my stare as my legs involuntarily clench, the thought of this powerful man between my thighs unnerving me. I shouldn’t want that, but the way those words so effortlessly rolled off his tongue has ignited something inside of me that I can’t refuse.

This is wrong. So damn wrong. He’s my captor, my owner, a man who could end my life with nothing more than a flick of his wrist. I should be searching for the exits, not wondering how good it would feel to have his mouth closing over my cunt, his tongue flicking past my clit, and those long, thick fingers plunging deep inside of me.

Fuck. FUCK. This man will have no issue taking me against my will. I cannot allow myself to see him this way.

Shake it from your thoughts, Chiara. Don’t be a whore for this man.

As if seeing my inner turmoil, he takes pity on me and frees my stare, turning around as though he doesn’t have me already messed up. “Come now,” he says. “I will show you my home.”

I follow in silence as he takes me around the estate, showing me the spaces he thinks I’ll probably enjoy or find useful, and honestly, he’s not wrong. As we make our way through a home library that overlooks the mountain range, he tells me how he will have my closet stocked and suggests I speak to his head chef about my dietary needs.

With each new sentence out of his mouth, I find myself even more baffled by this strange man. I’m his property, the woman he claimed at an auction, and yet he’s welcoming me into his home like a long-lost guest he wishes to pamper. Where’s the cell? The dirty sheets and food scraps? This isn’t what I was expecting, not even remotely.

We walk back to one of the many living rooms where he refills his whiskey, and I realize just how serious he was. Since asking my name back at the warehouse, he hasn’t once used it. It’s not exactly high on my list of priorities, but it’s almost ironic. He knows my name and won’t use it, probably some kind of fucked-up way to misplace the guilt he feels from taking me away from the life I once knew. Either that or some kind of power play. Yet here I am, without even a clue who he is. At this point, I’d pay to learn his name and then inquire with my good friend, Google.

Lifting his glass to his lips, he takes a quick sip and focuses that intense stare back to mine, his gaze slightly narrowed with suspicion. It’s as if he’s patiently waiting for me to ask whatever is on my mind. Understanding just how serious he was about his desire to punish me, the thought of questioning him unnerves me, but I have to know what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. “I don’t know your name,” I tell him.

“There is no need for you to know my name, who I am, or what I do. Your one requirement is to cater to me.”

“How can I best cater to you when I don’t know anything about you?”

“I will teach you what you need to know and what is required of you,” he states. I hesitate, biting my bottom lip, and his gaze narrows. “What is it?”

“Can I be honest with you?” I question, feeling as though I’m about to shit myself with fear.

“I welcome your honesty,” he says with a slight nod, encouraging me to go on.

I swallow hard, keeping my stare locked on him to make sure he’s not about to flip the switch and send this whole strange vacation vibe crumbling down around me. After all, the alternative terrifies me. “I feel that I need to warn you that I am not someone who naturally follows rules. The idea that you claim to own me makes me sick. I’ve never answered to anyone in my life, and I don’t like the idea of starting now. I didn’t answer to the assholes who took me off the street, and I don’t answer to you. I answer to me.”

Darkness clouds his eyes, and he steps toward me, placing his glass down on a table as he passes by. “Understand me, girl,” he says, his voice taking on a tone that chills me to the bone. “I don’t care what you once did in a former life, who you fucked, or what you valued. You belong to me now. You answer to me and me alone. I own you.”

I shake my head, hating that my need to argue every case rears its ugly head right now. “But you don’t,” I tell him. “You might have claimed me at that bullshit auction, but you didn’t purchase me because I was never for sale. I was stolen off the street and offered to the highest bidder. Besides, I don’t know how many auctions you’ve been to, but when you purchase something, an exchange must occur. But you didn’t dig into those deep pockets of yours and pay what you owed. You simply walked in and told the world that I was yours. There was no payment made. Therefore, you don’t own me.”

Those dark eyes are like two raging pits leading straight to hell, and as I try to back up, I find myself unable to move. “I paid by allowing those scum to keep breathing,” he states, that low tone like poison in my veins. “A price unmatched by any other. Now, I understand this is your first night here. You’re scared, uncertain, and nervous. You don’t know what’s coming your way and probably haven’t had a decent meal in a while, so I will put your outburst aside. I am not a forgiving man, but considering the circumstances, I will excuse your actions. This time. But know, if you speak out of line one more time, you will see a side of me that you will never be able to come back from. Do we have an understanding?”

Fear consumes me, and I hold his stare for a while, absolutely hating this, but the one thing I feel deep in my gut is that this unnamed man keeps his word, whether those words are threatening my life or not. He will follow through if he feels challenged, no matter the cost. “I fear that this is going to be a bigger adjustment than you had anticipated,” I tell him, keeping it honest. “However, I know you don’t know me, and my word probably doesn’t mean shit to you, but it means something to me. So, I will give you my word that I will try and do things your way. You said you hoped our time together would be pleasant, and I am honest in telling you that I hope it can be too. I’m not interested in experiencing this other side of you.”

He nods, and his stormy eyes seem to relax. “Then we have an understanding,” he says. “Now, I know it is late, and I am sure you are wanting to retire to your room. However, there is one thing I need from you before you are excused.”

My brows furrow, and I meet his dark gaze. “What’s that?”

He steps into me, closer than ever before, that sweet whiskey breath brushing over my neck and sending a shiver sailing across my body. He leans in, his voice low and thick with desire. “You’re going to show me how you come.”

5

CHIARA

Nerves pound through my body as my captor leads me through his home. I feel my hands shaking, but I’m far too focused on his words still ringing in my ear.

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