Page 23 of Cry, Little Dove

I shove the images into the furthest corner of my mind. This is no time to swoon. This is the time to get angry!

I wriggle pathetically. The drugs did a number on me, but given our difference in height and strength, I couldn’t fight my way out of his embrace, anyway. I’m Cain’s plaything, and he can do anything he wants to me. He’s already proven that. Twice over.

“Go to hell!” I spit.

Cain is unimpressed by my rage. “Only if I can take you with me, little dove. Spending the rest of eternity with you would make hell feel like heaven.”

I blush. Furiously.

For fuck’s sake, why do his lines work on me with a hundred percent success rate? It’s absurd! Admittedly being naked on top of him doesn’t help the matter, even if he’s wearing pj bottoms made from a very nice, silky material.

Cain snickers. “You’re cute when your cheeks get all red. You blush so easily. It makes me wanna tease you more.”

He bucks his hips and his cock hardens against me. My pussy reacts like clockwork, a pleasure ache winding through my core.

“What do you think this is, Cain?” I hiss through clenched teeth.

“My bedroom.”

I groan, shoving at his chest. Does he have a smug answer to everything? But his distraction works, and my eyes scan the large room. Every detail screams rustic luxury, and if I hadn’t been brought here against my will, it would be paradise to wake up in a cozy place like this.

The walls are paneled with dark wood and log details to match the floor and the exposed ceiling beams. There’s a stone fireplace across from the bed and a landscape mural above it, mountains and wild forests painted in vivid colors. The scenery reminds me of his left tattoo sleeve.

A leather armchair and a side table are nestled into the corner by tall windows letting in orange afternoon sun. An antique vanity stands against the far wall, complete with a matching, upholstered stool. Around it hangs a collection of cowboy hats in different colors.

“Do you think I’m going to play house with you after you abducted me and put me through the most humiliating, scariest experience of my whole life?” I ask.

He shrugs, the rise and fall of his shoulders shifting me on top of him. “And thehottestexperience.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shoot back, but unfortunately, he hit the nail on the head.

No trauma response can explain away how wet I was and how hard I came. There is a disturbing psychological revelation about me somewhere in that whole ordeal, but I choose to disregard it. I have bigger problems to worry about.

“Why don’t you show a lil gratitude for the orgasm I gave you, darlin’? And for not killing you like I said I would.”

I slap on the fakest smile I can muster, putting buckets of sarcasm into my voice. “Thank you so,somuch, Cain.”

He graces me with a satisfied nod, glossing over the venom in my tone. “You’re most welcome.”

I glare daggers at him while he sits up, leaning against the headboard to cradle me in his lap. His warm, comfortable lap. Fuck him for being so gorgeous and strong.

He pours a glass of water from a lidded pitcher on the nightstand. From the drawer, he takes a white sachet, ripping it open with his teeth, unwilling to let me go with both arms. He tilts it above the glass and a yellow tablet drops into the water, starting to fizz and dissolve.

“Drink this,” he says, handing me the glass. “Electrolytes and vitamins. You need something to help you get back on your feet… unless you want me to carry you everywhere.” He grins. “Including the shower.”

Why does he care how I am?

I shoot him another sidelong glance while I down the whole thing at once. It’s refreshing, that much I have to admit, and I immediately feel more human and less like a parched sponge. His digits brush mine as he takes the empty glass from me and puts it back on the nightstand. Meanwhile, I try to disregard the tingles his accidental touches left behind on my skin.

“You have two choices.” He holds up his pointer finger, the other arm still around me. “One, you can stay down in the basement, but I’ll have to do something to keep you nice and docile. I think I’ll keep you chained to the table and pump you full of drugs to put you in an induced coma. You’ll only be awake when I visit to fuck you until you’re sore.”

I can’t hold back a gasp, my pulse fluttering like a tiny bird is trapped behind my ribs.

Cain’s smirk is wolfish, more like a beast baring its teeth. His erection throbs against my ass. “Would you like that, little dove? Would you like to be my fucktoy with one purpose, a motionless doll with holes for me to use?”

“No. Please… please don’t,” I whisper, but wetness seeps from my core. A lot of it. I pray I’m not leaking all over him.

I can’t deny that being paralyzed was indeed the hottest thing anyone has ever done to me. Before I met Cain, I never thought that being used could be so sexy.

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