Page 49 of Savage Desires

I match his passion. Kissing him back just as furiously. My body feels like it's burning up. It's such a foreign feeling, and I want more. His cock is hard. All it takes is a slight shift of my hips to have him press against my pussy. My whole body lights up at how amazing that simple motion feels. What would it feel like to have more?

I'm sure someone on the outside looking in would see this as wrong. I should be traumatized and want to stay far away from everything sexual, but I've spent years telling myself I'm no one's victim. I'm a survivor, and that means I get to choose how I want to live. Right now, I want to kiss Kisten and feel my body heat with desire. He breaks the kiss, and I whimper because I'm not ready for it to end.

"You're going to be the death of me."

"What a way to go, though," I smirk.

He slaps my ass, making me gasp. "Behave, or I'll show you what happens to naughty girls."

A shiver trails up my spine at the threat. I'm not sure that I'd mind being his naughty girl. I liked him calling me his good girl, but naughty girl is a close second. I pout when he gently picks me up off his lap and sets me on my feet in front of him. The serious look on his face has me biting back my protest.

"This is it for you, beauty. From now on, you're mine. I'll give you everything you need. You'll be my spoiled princess, but I won't hesitate to punish you if you break the rules," he says, his tone firm.

"I want to be yours. I'll be good."

He smirks. "Somehow, I doubt that you're capable of being good all the time."

I shrug. "I'll follow the rules when it really counts."

He narrows his eyes. "You'll deeply regret it if you break a rule that puts you in danger. I'm going to let you help me because I sense that it's what you need, but you put yourself in unnecessary danger, and you'll regret it."

My heart pounds in my chest at the seriousness of that threat. I don't know how he'll punish me, and I'm not sure I want to find out what he'd do if I broke that rule. Not that I will. I won't be stupid. I know what he does is dangerous, and confronting the people who treated me like property isn't safe. I know better than most what they are capable of. I won't risk being imprisoned again… or worse. Now that I'm free, I want to have a life even if it's not what's expected of someone who's been through what I have.

"Dinner is ready downstairs. I need to talk to the others and get whatever information they might have."

I nod. "I want to be there."

"Okay, beauty."

He leads me out of the room and to the stairs. I can see that he wants to carry me again. I love that he's so worried about me, but I have to show him I'm stronger and not a liability. I hold the banister tightly as I make my way downstairs. Kisten patiently follows me, hovering like he's ready to scoop me up if needed. At the bottom of the stairs, I wrap my arms around him in a hug. He doesn't hesitate to return my embrace. Instead of letting me go completely, he keeps his arm around me as we enter the dining room.

The food is set up the same as before. Everything smells so good, and my stomach growls hungrily. He holds my plate and watches as I fill it. My mouth waters at the various selections of pasta. My plate is practically overflowing with lasagna, alfredo, toasted ravioli, and chicken parmesan. I balance two breadsticks on top of everything. Kisten says nothing about the amount of food on my plate, even though he knows he'll be eating what I don't finish.

I'm half in love with him just because he's willing to do something that sweet. He gets me settled at the table and then makes his own plate. The other women chat as they eat and surreptitiously watch my interactions with Kisten. He has his hand on my thigh under the table, which makes me feel claimed and safe.

I can tell the others are confused and maybe slightly worried, but I don't care. When all is said and done, they don't matter. We aren't friends. Sure, we're bonded by our experiences, and our escape wasn't easy, but we don't really know each other. They are each going off to one of the Hope House locations or home to their family, and I'm staying behind to dole out some vigilante justice.

"When everyone's done eating, I want to speak with you individually. It's important that I gather as much information as possible about the trafficking ring," Kisten says.

Tabitha and Lexis seem okay with meeting with Kisten. Reghan looks ashen at the thought. She stops eating, instead pushing her food around her plate while completely lost in thought. Stacia is oblivious to how important it is for Kisten to get information and Lucy is completely uninterested in helping.

So, it's basically exactly what I expected. Tabitha might have some information on what happens at Mecca but not nearly as much insight as I do. It's worth the effort to see what she knows, and Lexis is the only one of us who spent time at the mansion. She helped us escape, so she knows things to help us in our quest to shut them down.

I eat so much that my stomach aches. Kisten slides my half-full plate in front of him without a word and starts eating what I didn't finish. All of the others look at me with varying looks of confusion and surprise—not that I can blame them. It's pretty insane that a man like Kisten would treat a woman like me with so much kindness and consideration. It makes my heart race, knowing that a strong and capable man sees me as something other than a weak victim.

Gladys and another woman who looks just like her, only much younger, come in and start clearing plates. I assume it's her daughter.

"Willow, this is my daughter Annie. She brought your new things up to your room for you," Gladys says, confirming my suspicions.

"Thank you," I tell Annie, making sure she sees how grateful I am for everything they've done for me.

"You're welcome. I hope you like what I picked for you," she says with a big smile and a wink.

"I'm sure it's great. I hope you didn't go overboard. I really don't need much."

She pats my shoulder. "I would never go overboard."

She says the right thing, but how her eyes dance with mischief makes me think otherwise. A wave of unease fills me at the thought of being unable to repay them for everything they've done. I've had owners who had expectations for everything they gave me. Anything from food to clothes came at a price. I don't want to owe them anything, and I don't want to take advantage of their kindness. They've done so much for me already. It seems unfair to ask for more.

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