Page 39 of His Captive Pet

“Then I suggest you start talking.”

She sighed and looked away. “No.” Her soft whisper almost weightless.

“Fair enough. In you go.” He stood up and out of her way, shoving her with his bare foot to get her moving.

She lay on the cushion, folding her hands beneath her head and looking miserable. He’d seen horrific scenes while serving in the Marines, but seeing the woman he cared so much for suffering—even by his own hands—tore at him like nothing else.

He plucked up the plug from the bed and reached for the light switch at the door.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. Tomorrow’s another day.”

The light died with the switch, and as he closed the door, he heard it.

A soft sniffle.

Chapter Fifteen

She was being licked. Aubree sputtered as Samuel’s slobbery tongue made its way over her face.

“Agh, Samuel.” She laughed and rolled onto her back, letting him nudge her with his head. “It’s not time to get up, is it?” She looked for her alarm clock.

Realization came flooding back to her.

She wasn’t home in her warm, comfortable bed. She lay on the floor, in a fucking dog bed. Naked and collared. And sore. Her muscles ached with her movements.

Closing her eyes, she tried to take stock, tried to figure out what the hell her next step could be.

First thing, she needed to stop reacting to Blake’s touch so damn easily. He’d made her wear a tail and walked her on a leash, and by the time she’d gotten back to the cabin, she could feel her own arousal slippery between her legs. It needed to end.

And fucking him? She made no pretense with herself about what had transpired in the living room. It hadn’t been a one-man show. Once his cock was out of his pants, her mouth practically salivated for it, her pussy wept with need for it. Being bent over the couch and having him fill her, stretch her even more than the plug had done, had her teetering on the edge of orgasm nearly instantly.

“You need to get a damn grip,” she chastised herself.

She also needed to use the washroom. Samuel stepped over her and nudged her again with his head.

“Okay, okay.” She scratched behind his ear and rolled off the pillow. All in all, she hadn’t slept horribly. Surely exhaustion led her to a solid night’s sleep. Sometime in the night she had heard Blake enter the room, felt him standing over her for a long stretch of time before she heard the bed creak beneath his weight. She hadn’t begged to get in the bed; she just rolled over, dried the wet streaks from her earlier cry from her face, and went back to sleep.

Bacon fried in the kitchen. Her mouth watered, but not with as much desire as her bladder screamed. She found the washroom and went about getting cleaned up.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she caught sight of the thick leather strap around her neck and tugged at it. He hadn’t locked it, and she wondered what the punishment would be for removing it.

Deciding she didn’t care, she unbuckled it and left it on the sink while she jumped into the shower, welcoming the heated water to help relax her tense muscles.

Three minutes into her shower, the bathroom door burst open, and she could feel his presence. He took up most of the space with his muscular build, and the rest was sucked up by his dominance.

That’s fine. He could act like the caveman all he wanted, but she wasn’t going to be scared. She’d spent her entire life taking care of herself. While her mother laid up in bed weeping and hoping for a better marriage, a better life, Aubree made sure the bills were paid. If Blake thought she needed him to waltz into her life and save her from the Pecadores, he didn’t know her at all.

Sleeping on the dog bed was probably his way of trying to break her, but it didn’t. It only worked to remind herself she’d been through worse, and she would go through a lot more than a little humiliation before he could wipe away her self-perseverance.

She could bend to him when it came to orgasms; she could see herself submitting to a man maybe even outside the bedroom. But it would be on her terms. And when it came to this situation, these dogs needed her; she would not conform to his will.

The conditioner in the shower wasn’t strong enough for her thick hair, but it would at least keep her hair from being frizzy all day. After she finished rinsing and squeezing the water out, she cut off the stream and yanked back the curtain.

He leaned against the counter, one foot draped over the other, and the collar dangling from one finger.

“I didn’t want to ruin it.” She lifted a shoulder and reached for the towel.

“Do you remember when I told you I wanted your obedience?” He took a step toward her, making the room feel even smaller than it already did. He had a talent for making claustrophobia a breathing entity when they were in small spaces.

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