Page 28 of Cruel Heir

Andre watches me for a moment longer, and I think that he’s going to tell me to leave, to go back to my own room. And then he shrugs, a flicker of amusement crossing his face.

“Fine,” he says, rolling over onto his side. “Stay if you want. I can tolerate someone else staying in my bed for one night, I’m sure.”

I lie there for a long time, waiting for him to fall asleep. I have no idea how heavy or light of a sleeper he is, but when he starts to snore lightly, I think that might be my chance.

As carefully as I can, I slide off of the mattress. It’s a thick foam, with no springs to risk creaking, but I move incrementally anyway, resisting the urge to get what I need and get out as quickly as possible. Andre doesn’t seem to wake as I reach for my clothes, and I tiptoe across the floor to where he left his in a pile next to the chair when he undressed. Every muscle in my body is wound tight as I reach down to rifle through the pockets, teeth clenched as I wait for the jingle of keys to give me away and wake him up. But all I find is his slim wallet,and I reach for it, hoping that the keycard to the garage is in here somewhere.

I grab the wallet, looking at the space between me and the door. It feels like an ocean, even worse when I have to take small steps, careful to keep the floor from creaking, careful not to bump into anything, careful not to be heard. I can barely breathe as I glance back at Andre, listening for his faint snores, praying that he won’t wake up. I’ll never get another chance if he does. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t lock me up in a room and keep me there until I eventually give birth.

When I slip out of the bedroom, I press my hand over my mouth, trying not to let out a gasp of relief. I’m not home free yet—if I run into James, he’ll ask what I’m doing wandering around the house at night. I might be able to come up with an excuse—midnight hunger, wanting a glass of water—but I doubt he’d take any excuse I gave at face value. I creep down the stairs, my head on a swivel the entire time, all the way to the staircase that leads down to the garage.

As soon as I get down to the concrete landing, I almost burst into tears.I’m still not out of here yet,I remind myself, opening Andre’s slim leather wallet. There are two credit cards, one heavy gold and the other a dense matte black, and what look like three different keycards. I slip them out, fingers shaking, and hurriedly try two of them in the locked box before it clicks open.

Just as I thought, there are rows of keys inside. I grab one without looking—I wouldn’t know which car I’m more likely to be able to drive than any other—and hurry to the door, clutching the keys in one hand as I start to test the cards in the door. My hands are shaking so badly that I drop one, and it clatters to the concrete. I almost burst into tears all over again, reaching down to scoop it up, certain that I’m going to hear footsteps behind me at any moment.

And then I slip the card into the slot in the door, and it clicks.

Oh my god.I push it open, braced for an alarm to go off, but nothing happens. Clearly, if someone has the key, it’s assumed that they’re expected to be down here. I feel sure there must be security cameras, but I move quickly across the garage, the concrete coldagainst my bare feet as I hit the key fob. If I do this right, by the time anyone gets down here, I’ll already be gone.

I hear a beeping sound, and realize, to my dismay, that the keys I grabbed belong to a car at the other end of the garage. I hurry towards it, clicking the fob again to make certain that I go to the right one, and see the headlights blink on a sleek red Ferrari parked between a black Towncar and a silver Lamborghini.

Shit. I don’t know much about cars, but I know enough to have an idea that a Ferrari is an impossibly fast sportscar, and not something I’m likely to be able to easily drive. But it’s too late to go back and look for another set of keys. I take a deep breath, walking towards the driver’s side door, determined to figure this out.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Andre’s voice cuts through the air, sharp as a knife, freezing me in my tracks.

Shit, shit, shit.Tears well in my eyes, my heart thundering in my chest. I’m caught, and there’s no talking my way out of this, no excuse that I can give. There’s no explanation for why I’m down here with a stolen keycard and stolen keys in hand, about to get into a car that I definitely don’t know how to drive, aside from the obvious.

“I knew you’d try to run eventually,” Andre continues, his voice deceptively silky. “But I can’t say I expectedthis.” I hear the sounds of his feet hitting the concrete as he walks towards me briskly, and I tense, waiting for a blow to fall.

But he doesn’t hit me. His hand closes around my arm, pulling me backward against him, my back flush to his chest. His arm wraps around my waist, and I feel his lips brush against my ear, that now-familiar way that he loves to speak to me when he’s delivering a lesson, when he’s telling me how things are going to be.

“Or do you have some other excuse why you were down here in my garage, looking at my Ferrari?” His free hand brushes my loose hair away from my face, his knuckles skimming over my cheekbone, gentle as a breath. He takes a step forward, walking me towards the front of the car, until my legs are almost touching the hood. “Theremust besomeexplanation other than my beloved wife trying to run away from me, isn’t there?”

His voice is thick with sarcasm, and I have no idea what to say. I twist in his arms, remembering too late how much he loves it when I fight, how much it turns him on. He’s wearing loose joggers, and I feel his cock stir against the curve of my ass, his arm tightening around my waist as he chuckles.

“Oh, that must be it. My greedy littleprincipessawanted to try something new.” His lips curve in a smirk, and I can feel it against my skin. His hand slides down to the small of my back, and I gasp as he suddenly pushes me forward, down against the hood of the car.

“Andre!” I try to twist away from him again, my heart pounding, but he just laughs darkly.

“Hush,principessa,” he croons. “You’ll want to be quiet.” His fingers hook in the waist of my pants, dragging them and my panties down my hips and to my ankles in one quick snatch of the fabric that leaves them pooled on the concrete at my feet. “All of my security will hear you getting fucked, if you’re not. Is that what you want?”

He knows it isn’t. I close my eyes, hating my body’s reaction to what’s happening, the sharp throb of desire that I feel at being bent over the hood of the car, vulnerable and exposed. His hand fists in the material of my shirt, dragging it up and over my head, as he grabs my wrists with his other hand, pinning them above me as soon as my shirt is tossed aside.

“I like this little fantasy of yours,principessa,” Andre murmurs, nudging my ankles apart with one foot. “I’ve never fucked anyone over the hood of my Ferrari before. I’m hard just thinking about it.” He leans forward, and I feel acutely how truthful that is. His cock presses against my ass, bare and hot and hard, and Andre makes a low noise deep in his throat as he rocks against my ass.

“I think you need to be punished for your little escape attempt. Last night wasn’t enough, I see, putting you down on your knees and making you swallow my cum.” His hand slides over the curve of my ass, and for a moment, I think he’s going to spank me. His palm presses against my flesh, squeezing, and then I feel his thumb dipbetween my cheeks. The tip of it pushes against the tight hole, and I squirm, shaking my head.

“No, Andre,please.” I buck against his hand, but all it does is make him push down harder, the tip of his thumb almost breaching me. I let out a whimpering cry, forgetting his caution to be quiet, and Andre chuckles.

“God, I want to fuck you in the ass,principessa.” His cock throbs against my thigh as he speaks, rubbing against my outer folds, and Andre groans, leaning forward so that his chest is pressed to my back as he thrusts his cock slowly between my thighs, his thumb still circling my tight hole. “Don’t move, Lucia,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over my ear and making me flinch. “If you do, I won’t be as careful as you like. Keep your hands right where they are. Don’t move a muscle.”

He pulls away from me, walking towards the passenger’s side of the car as if his joggers weren’t tugged down around his hipbones, his cock jutting out stiff and eager. I hate the way my pulse leaps at the sight of it, thick and throbbing for me, the wave of arousal that I feel soaking between my thighs. I know how good he feels inside of me, filling me up—but then fear jolts through me as I wonder what he’s about to do.

Andre reaches into the car, opening the glove box, and comes back out with something in his hand. The smirk is still on his face, and he circles back around to me, just in time for me to see the foil packet in his hand.

“I can’t afford to not come in your pussy again, I’m afraid,dolcezza,” he murmurs, ripping the packet open. “So certain precautions have to be taken, if I want to do this the way I’m hoping to.”

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