Page 43 of Capture
“Yeah, we know who that is,” I mumbled under my breath as I patted him on his shoulder as he moved past. “Thanks for that, Freddie. I’ll sort out the money transfer later.”
“Sure. Thanks,” he said proudly.
19
Where are you going?” I asked Ronan as he wandered down the hall to the elevator, bypassing his office, “To finish setting up the television in Annika’s room.”
Huh, that’s where his mind was at. “I’ll do it,” I offered, and a smirk slid across his face.
“Are you sure? You do hate her, remember,” he mocked, and I shot him a sharp look to hide my smile. “I’m distracting myself.”
“From what?” he pushed with a wry look on his face.
“Calling Sylvie,” I replied, and he snorted in laughter as he disappeared into his office.
“Have you decided what action you’re going to take with Gunner?” he called after me.
A heavy sigh left me, trying to shift the brick of stress on my shoulders. “Yep,” I answered.
I was prepared to let Betty go for now, but Gunner and the impending overreach from the Larsson cop and her collusion with the Ivanov family won’t stop until they’re destroyed. So, my decision was based on the best outcome for us, and eliminating all our enemies to govern our fought-for and won territories was the objective.
The Velvet rooms were in full swing as the girls politely greeted me as I walked into their lair, hoping I might dabble in their game. But no, my attention and desires were elsewhere, to the girl at the end of the hall.
Why her?
There were thousands of other options, more attractive and classier than her, so why do I keep returning to the girl who screwed me over? The little liar.
Trepidation flooded my body as I loomed closer to her room, my cock pressed against the front of my pants, so I paused to calm my shit. It surprised and disappointed me that my body reacted this way to the thought of touching her.
Sylvie was right, maybe I needed therapy after my prison term because this behavior was out of character for me. Why pursueherwhen my usual taste was an expensive whore with shiny, smooth legs that went on forever and an empty smile? When I was done with a whore, I felt no guilt or responsibility toward her, but for some reason, my feelings toward Annika were different.
After taking a few seconds to compose myself, I unlocked her door and stepped inside to find it empty. I scanned the room as panic rose and noticed the empty TV box in the corner, while the TV was erected and plugged into the wall, ready for use.
The sound of flowing water pulled me to the bathroom door, relieved that she was in there bathing and hadn’t escaped. It surprised me how my body reacted to the possibility of her escaping from us and disappearing again. I was beginning to forgive her for what she did because she was only a kid, but if she did it again, I wouldn’t be so charitable.
There was only one slab of wood between me and that naked body, and my rising heat prompted me to try the handle. It was unlocked, so I pushed the door open to step into the steam-filled space, which was infused with the floral scent of her shampoo.
There was standing there in the shower, completely naked, skin glistening wet, eyes squinting from the water flowing into them, dark hair saturated and glued to her skin. With my gaze raking over her body, I removed my shoes, then my socks, unbuckled my belt, and waited for her to notice that Lars Kaiser had arrived.
As I began to untuck my white shirt, that’s when she glanced up and screamed, “Oh my god, you scared me.” Her instinctive reaction was to cover her breasts and pussy with her hands. I silently step in, fully clothed, seize her wrists, and hold them above her head.
“You should’ve knocked,” he hissed angrily. “I’m entitled to some privacy.”
“You should’ve locked the bathroom door,” I argued calmly.
“The lock doesn’t work,” she snarled back at me, wrestling with my grip.
“I’ll get it fixed later,” I informed her, even though I might conveniently forget because I enjoyed walking in on her when she least expected it. She was, after all, my prisoner, not a guest at a hotel. “If I remember.”
I lowered my mouth to claim hers, and she defiantly turned her head away. “Your clothes are getting wet,” she states angrily.
“Wrong. They are already wet, and turn your face around. I want to look at you,” I insisted.
But she kept her head turned, wearing a tiny smirk as if she believed she was winning. No, girl, you don't win when I'm your competitor.
I pushed my hard crotch into her, so she was caged entirely by my body, and she gasped, still refusing to look at me. My hands were busy, holding her wrists above her head, so all I had left was my mouth, so I nibbled at her neck, making her shiver, writhe beneath my hold.
“Can you feel how hard I am?” I whispered into her ear, then seized her earlobe between my teeth and bit down, drawing another exhilarated gasp from her succulent mouth.
