She was my captive, which meant she was under my care, my protection, and I was the one who decided when she would feel pain, when her blood would spill, and how it would happen.
Grabbing her wrists, I pinned them to the wall above her head, forcing her to stop.
My body pressed against hers, trapping her against the wall, the pressure meant to ground her, to give her something solid to push against.
Her screams only got louder, her struggle against me more desperate.
Every straining effort, every single movement she made, rubbed her lithe body against my hard muscles, her hips grinding against my hardening cock.
If she kept this up, I was going to lose control, and under my protection or not, I was going to bend her over that leather couch and spank her perfect ass until it was as red as her face.
Then there was no telling what else I would do to her.
My mouth watered at the thought of having her bent over and exposed for me. I wanted to see if all of her skin flushed as prettily as her cheeks did.
I stared at the single drop of blood welling from the shallow scratch on her neck. When she thrashed her head back and forth, lilac locks flying everywhere, the drop spilled. It trailed down her neck then landed on one of the smaller diamonds, settling in the platinum setting.
The perfectly cut stone reflected the dark red color, creating tiny flashes of crimson and hot pink in the facets.
She made a simple, colorless diamond look like the most exquisite ruby the world had ever seen.
It was beautiful.
When I looked back up at her, she was still sobbing, tears streaking down her beautiful face, now flushed the same gorgeous red that was caught in the stone. Her lips were only inches from mine, and I ached to reach out and taste her pain.
"Please," she whimpered. "Please just let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone. I won't tell my mother where you took me. No one has to know. Just take the necklace off and let me go."
She begged so prettily, but even though her lips kept moving, I stopped listening. I was too fascinated by the deep crimson color in the stone and how it matched the dark red of her lips and the flushed pink of her cheeks.
"Please let me go." Her body trembled against mine, more hot tears streaming down her rosy cheeks.
Cheeks so hot, I would bet I could take a piece of ice from the bar and it'd melt if I trailed it over her face and down to her breasts.
She was an unsolved puzzle, a mixture of contradictions that I needed to set straight.
"I'll give you anything, just let me go," she cried again, her wrists pulling in my grasp.
Her thin bones felt so frail in my tightened grip, but they weren't. Just like the rest of her, she looked frail, but she fought. She was delicate but strong, demure but so damn sexy.
No.
I wasn't going to let her go, not even if her mother did exactly what she was supposed to. Not even if my cousins came down and demanded it themselves.
I'd never let this girl go.
The thought echoed in my mind, and I didn't know where it came from, but I knew it was true.
Not because she was part of this coercion, this little scheme to get her mother back in line. Not because she could be used asa pawn to keep her mother in line and from acting of her own accord again in the future.
No, I was going to keep her because I wanted her. There was no reason, no rhyme to it, but I desired her, so she was mine.
Mine to take, mine to keep, mine to take apart and put back together over and over until I figured out how she was real.
Without thinking, I slammed my mouth down on hers, needing to taste the desperation on her lips and see if she was as hungry as me.
Was she as conflicted as I was? Did she feel this infuriating pull, too?
I expected her to fight; I expected her to try to shove me away before melting into the kiss and giving in to whatever this was between us. Her hunger had to be as intense as mine, intense enough she would bend to it.
