The next morning, I learn Ryder wasn’t lying, they’re gone. As soon as I step out of my room, I know it—it’s too quiet. Too empty. Sighing, and ignoring the fact I’m disappointed, I decide to have some breakfast. I might as well eat their food if they are keeping me prisoner.
I had taken a long bath this morning, shaving when I got bored before slipping into one of the new t-shirt dresses Ryder bought me. It has a skull and a snake wrapped around it on the front, and it’s low-cut and hangs to my knees. Pairing it with my new heeled kick ass boots, which reach mid-calf, I think I look pretty good. I even put on some makeup, telling myself the whole time it was for me, to feel like myself again. Maybe if I dressed like it, I might actually be it.
But a small part of my psyche calls me a liar, accuses me of wanting to look good for them. I kill that tiny piece. Who says your inner self is right all the time? Really, she’s just a snotty, stuck-up bitch.
I don’t see Kenzo anywhere, but I find some breakfast left on the table for me and a warm carafe of coffee. So I sit and eat, but I find myself jumping in the quiet, expecting one of them to leap out at me. After I’ve finished, I sigh, already bored.
Throwing myself down on the sofa, I take the tablet and try to figure out how to turn on their TV. Why can’t these people just have a normal control like everyone else? I finally get it to switch on and find the horror channel, settling in to watch the film. I wonder if they have popcorn.
That’s when it hits me, I’m just sitting here. Why aren’t I trying to escape? My eyes go to the door, but after yesterday, it doesn’t seem like the best way to try and leave. My head still aches from smashing it into the window, and though they checked it over and it’s scabbed, it’s still a stark reminder. Not to mention, I don’t want D to ‘teach me another lesson.’ I don’t think I would survive it. Not right now.
Sighing, I turn my head, just as I hear footsteps behind me. I whirl around and spot Kenzo coming towards me. He doesn’t have his tablet, like usual, but he’s tucking his phone into his grey sweatpants.
That’s not what has me staring though. No, definitely not the very impressive bulge in the joggers or the fact that those loose, low riding grey sweatpants are made purely to tease women. No, it’s the fact he’s shirtless.
As in I can see everything. Including the bar through his right nipple and the tribal style tattoos dotted across his shoulders. He heads to the kitchen, and I gasp at the tattoo on his back. It’s a snake with red eyes, wrapped around a skull, and takes up his entire back. It’s stunning artwork, not to mention the chiselled muscles underneath. “You want a drink, darling?” he calls, and I snap my eyes to his to see he’s turned and is smirking at me. “Or just to drool instead?”
Asshole.
So what that he has abs carved from stone or that delicious V, a light splattering of hair leading down to his joggers and across his seriously impressive chest? Or that his shoulders are so wide that all I can imagine is raking my nails across them as he moves above me? Pinning me to the sofa and letting me feel all those muscles…I forgot my train of thought.
Fucking joggers and their magical abilities.
At least it’s more material for my spank bank.
He grabs two ice-cold waters, and I watch the droplets of condensation race down his arms. Lucky bastards. Strolling my way, he leaps over the back of the sofa in a really impressive display of strength and hands me one. I snort and take it, trying not to reveal how much his showing off is getting to me.
No, stay strong. Pussy power…that came out wrong.
I turn away to stop myself from staring at him, and try to focus on the movie, but I keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. His arm is stretched across the back of the sofa, his fingers almost touching me. He’s leaning back with his legs spread, and his other hand is tucked into the waistband of his joggers, pushing them even lower.
Fuck.
It’s like one of those thirst trap images you see online that makes you go ‘dayummm.’ I’ve definitely liked a few Instagram models’ photos that don’t even touch him right now. The worst bit? He knows it. There’s a smirk playing around his stupid lips, and he turns, catching me staring. “Don’t you want to watch the movie? Because if you want to do something else, darling, I’m down.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, tucking my hands under my ass to stop myself from reaching out and petting his muscles. That’s right. Petting them.
He chuckles and leans closer, his mouth almost at my ear. “You sure? We could wager on it…”
“You fucking gambling addict,” I mutter.
“Only when you’re involved. What do you say, darling? Want to play a game?” he whispers seductively.
“What would I win?” I hedge, while internally shouting at myself.
“The thing you want most…” My eyes go to his cock, and he laughs harder. I should take this bottle of water and ram it down his charming fucking throat. But then his next words have me perking up and forgetting about making the snake deep throat a bottle. “Your freedom.”
My gaze snaps to his. “You’re messing with me.”
“I could be, or maybe I’m just that sure I’ll win.” He shrugs, watching me with those dark eyes.
“So what do you win?” I ask, scared if that’s my prize, then his is something worse.
He leans closer, dropping all pretense of charm. His eyes are hungry as they dip to my lips then to my body, caressing every inch of me and leaving me almost trembling with desire. “You,” he rasps.
Fuck.
Fuck on a stick.
Why does my pussy clench?
“The game?” I question, and my voice is more breathless than I would like.
“Poker,” he answers, and I snort.
“Hell no, you’re a fucking bookie. I’m betting you’re amazing at that.” I roll my eyes.
He sighs, but that smirk covers his lips again. “Not the only thing I’m amazing at…but smart, darling. Fine, you pick.”
I run my eyes around the apartment, trying to think of something, anything, I could win against this man, this Viper, who’s right next to me, coiled to strike and eat me whole. Bar games, think, Rox. I’m good at them. “You got cups?”
Fuck, why is that the first game I can think of? Because he’s too close, smelling like all man, and I want to taste that, to feel him, and he’s distracting me.
“Yes,” he replies. I nod, and he motions to the kitchen. I leap up and run into the kitchen, opening cupboards until I find what I need. Am I really going to do this? Gamble my freedom and body?
Yes.
Grabbing some beer from the fridge, I head to the table and spread them out opposite each other. “Really?” He snorts. “Are we teenagers?”
“Scared you’ll lose?” I smirk as I pour the beer.
“Nope, bring it on, darling.” He grins.
I pick up the first cup, and he copies me. “First one to finish them all wins. Simple. Not easy to cheat. Three, two, one, go!” I shout, and down the cup. Wiping my mouth after, I flip it and it lands top down, he gapes at me when he finishes his. “I own a bar, darling,” I taunt, before moving onto my next.
He swears and flips his, but it doesn’t land the first time, although he gets it on the second. I carry on drinking before flipping. I’m on my third, and he’s on his second, but I can’t get the bastard to flip. I try again and again, watching nervously as he catches up, lands his third cup, and moves onto the fourth. Shit.
Fuck, he’s winning. Desperation fills me so I cheat. I lean down and flash my tits, and he chokes on his next sip, giving me time to knock back that cup, flip it, and move on.
What’s the worst that could happen? He already owns me, so if there is a chance at freedom, I have to take it. It keeps floating through my head as I drink, my eyes on him.
I down it and flip it, but we’re neck and neck. On the last cup. Our eyes lock as we chug it, then he yanks down his trousers, flashing me his cock. I actually choke on my beer, and it gives him the time he needs to flip it.
I stare at him, the cup still held to my lips, beyond shocked. I lost.
I lost.
He smirks and wipes his mouth. “I think I’ll collect now,” he murmurs, and prowls around the table towards me. His eyes are hungry, his body flexes, and his cock is hardening and pressing against his joggers. I back away, fear and desire blooming within me.
I didn’t think I could lose, and if I did…I thought I could handle it. Now I don’t know if I can. I want him, sure, my pussy is already wet from the thought, but Kenzo… Fuck, any of the Vipers are dangerous to more than just my body.
Like an obsession. Or a drug.
“Rematch?” I offer, keeping the table between us, but he leaps over it, landing right in front of me.
“No, fair is fair. Pay up, darling.” He chuckles.
I stumble back and dart away, but he catches me, his hand sweeping out and throwing me over his shoulder. I squeal and slap at his back, but he just throws me onto the sofa where I bounce, gasping. Looking up, I push the hair from my face as I find him staring down at me. He must see my fear, because he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his dice.
“I’ll give you a different game, though, guess the number. If you’re right, you’re safe, and if not, you have to take off an item of clothing.”
“What?” I gape.
He steps closer. “Unless you just want me to rip them from your body.”
Erm, yes please.
But also, fuck no at the same time.
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
“That’s the plan, darling. Guess.” He grins.
I panic. “Seven”
He throws the dice, catching them expertly. With a wink, he shows the dice. Fuck. “Top,” he demands.
“No,” I snarl, but reach down and yank off my shoes, throwing them at him. They hit his chest and bounce off, making his grin grow. “You fucking bastard! Is this the only way you can get a woman?”
Even as I spit vile words at him, I can’t help but pant, my legs clenching together as he watches me, his focus fully on my body. Like he can’t wait to eat me, fuck me, have me. Instead of forcing me like they could have, he won fair and square.
Won me.
And my body.
But…can I pay up?
Their reach is like a venom taking root inside me. At first, you don’t even realise it’s there. Slowly spreading through you, changing you, moulding you, infecting you, until it’s too late to be free. That’s how I feel, because I hated them, still do, but now it’s clouded with need.
One they forced into me, built inside me, and they know it.
I hate that.
I hate them.
Who says I can’t have some fun with it? Hate sex is like nothing else, and this desire clearly isn’t going away and I’m not getting free any time soon, so I might as well make the most of it…right?
That’s what I tell myself anyway.
“Fine,” I snarl. “Nine.” I point at the dice and he rolls again.
It comes up twelve, and he smirks. “Shirt,” he demands.
Ripping it over my head with a growl, I toss it at him. Why the hell did I agree to this game? I’m just in my panties and bra now, and he takes his time looking me over. I shiver under his possessive gaze, my nipples pebbling against the lace fabric, and my panties are no doubt soaking. Brilliant.
“Next guess, darling?” he murmurs, his eyes locked on my flushed chest as I clench my legs further together. With a groan, he reaches down and rearranges himself. “Fuck, you are way too beautiful.”
I ignore that, because honestly, what would I say? “Thirteen,” I snarl, but he’s too busy staring at me still. I can almost feel the caress from his gaze. “Kenzo.”
His eyes jerk up, locking with mine, and the dice go flying as he pounces. I yelp as he pins me to the sofa, ripping open my thighs and settling between them as he grinds against me. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“What? Kenzo?” I query in confusion, and he groans.
“Yes, like that, darling.”
“It’s literally your name, would you prefer I just call you asshole?” I snap, even as I arch up into him.
“Call me whatever you want, darling, as long as you don’t stop me and scream it for everyone to hear.” He laughs as he drops his lips to mine. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to, my words are caught in my throat as I grab his hair and yank him closer. He smirks against my mouth, so I bite down on his lip.
With a grunt, he wrenches away, panting hard as he glares at me. “Act like a brat, and you will get treated like one.”
“Whatever, get the fuck off me,” I demand. It’s hard to act tough in your undies, but I think I pull it off.
He smirks again, those dark eyes locked on mine, making me weak. “Why? You like me where I am.”
“No, I don’t,” I protest half-heartedly, my voice wavering.
He laughs, actually laughs, his whole body shaking. “Sure, so then why are your nipples hard and begging for my mouth?” he murmurs, as he rips down my bra and bares me to the room. Eyes on me, he seals his lips around one and sucks, making me moan as my eyes close and I arch up into his mouth.
Anger at my reaction flares through me, and I try to pull his head away using his hair. Laughing again, he ignores my desperate tugs and kisses down my belly, stopping at my navel piercing and circling it with his tongue before he carries on to my panties, his eyes meeting mine. “I can smell how wet you are.” With his teeth, he yanks down my panties and tosses them away.
I try to close my thighs, but he shoves them open and slams them down to the sofa, exposing me to him. He groans lowly, the sound doing bad things to me as he stares at me. “You’re fucking soaked. Thought you didn’t want me?”
“I don’t,” I snarl, even as I tilt my hips, needing to be touched.
He smirks and reaches between my thighs, stroking down my lips before parting them. “What’s this? A piercing?” he murmurs in shock, his finger circling my pierced hood. It was a drunken dare and hurt like hell. “That’s fucking hot.” He groans. “I’m so fucking close to coming in my pants, it’s not even funny,” he mutters, making me snigger.
He narrows his eyes and tugs on my piercing, forcing a gasp from my lips as pain flares through me, followed by pleasure. “Either get on with it or fuck off,” I snarl, but it’s hard to be intimidating when you’re pinned beneath a man naked and wet.
Without warning, he drops to his elbows, his face right in my pussy, and licks me from clit to ass. I nearly come away from the sofa, but he bands an arm across my belly, catching on the piercing there, and holds me down.
My mind is still whirling, trying to tell me all the reasons why I should stop this, why I should push him away, why I should hate him, but when he presses two fingers inside me, that all melts away to pleasure.
My eyes slide shut as I moan, unable to look at that dark head between my legs anymore. His hands dig into the fleshy part of my thighs, holding me open for him as he lashes my clit, tugging and licking my piercing as he expertly curls his fingers inside me. He plays me like one of his games. Knowing exactly where to lick, where to touch, rub, and fuck.
I’m panting in no time with sweat coating my body, my face and chest flushed. I try to stop myself, but I can’t help it, I rock against his face, needing more. He plays me like a fiddle, his fingers rubbing inside me as he keeps up that maddening pace with my clit. I reach down and flick my nipples, too turned on to care.
“You taste fucking delicious.” He groans. “Too fucking good.”
I shake my head, trying to stop the powerful orgasm I can feel building within me. No. No, this can’t be happening. I try to push him away, but he ignores me, speeds up, and throws me crashing into that release.
It tears through me, ripping a scream from my throat as my thighs clamp his head, my pussy tightening on his fingers. It rolls through me, again and again, my chest arching up into the air as my eyes squeeze closed, until it finally stops.
Dropping onto the sofa, I let my thighs fall open, and I look down to see a grinning, messy-haired Kenzo still lying between them, his tongue lapping casually at my cunt.
He rears up, and self-hatred pours through me at the satisfied smirk curling his glistening lips. He licks his fingers clean as I watch, and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t believe I just let that happen or that I screamed my pleasure for everyone to hear.
He’s my fucking kidnapper.
Rolling off the sofa, I storm away, and when I hear him coming after me, I move faster. My heart is racing, and my legs are still weak from him. I can’t—fuck, I can’t believe that happened. Or that it felt so good. I try to escape him, but he catches me in the hallway and slams me into the wall, holding me there as he leans down, his eyes angry now.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream, kicking and struggling in his grip. He grunts and pushes me back again, trying to hold me still.
“Why?”
“I hate you,” I snap desperately, and he laughs, but the sound is mean. All hints of teasing disappear in the face of my anger. But this is not all directed at him. Hell, some of it is for making me feel that way, for making me weak, but some is aimed at me.
“No, you hate that you enjoyed that, don’t fucking lie, darling. You were screaming in no time, and you hate that you loved every fucking second of my tongue in your pussy.”
His dirty words infuriate me, and before I know it, I’ve slapped him. It’s loud in the silence, and I suck in a breath as his head snaps to the side. Slowly, he turns back to face me, and all hints of the usual, charming, teasing Kenzo have vanished. I can see the resemblance to Ryder now. It’s the emotions, the wild, uncontrolled feelings.
He’s angry.
Furious.
Well, so am I!
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he warns, his voice low and rough. With one hand, he keeps me pressed to the wall, while he yanks down his joggers with the other, and the sight of his hard, throbbing cock has me freezing. It’s big, really fucking big. Too big.
No.
It’s bad enough I let him taste me. He isn’t fucking me. I channel all that rage, all that hate, and aim it towards him. All of it, from being stolen, to my dad, to these assholes, to my own emotions, I let it pour from me. Uncaring if I hurt him.
I pull back my fist and slam it into his face, then, as he’s reeling backward, I do it again and again, but he catches the last one and slams my hand to the wall next to me, crushing my wrist until I cry out. He pushes his face into mine, his smirk transformed into a snarl. “You want to hate me? Fine. You will still be screaming my name when you come on my cock.”
“Fuck you!” I scream into his face, lunging my head forward. It connects, and we both grunt as pain flows through my already injured head.
He grabs my other hand and slams them together above me, making me stretch up on my tiptoes, chest heaving as I kick at him. He throws off his joggers and presses his naked body against me. I hate the flare of desire that flows through me, or the fact that I want him. The fact that the sight of his pulsing cock has me wetter than I’ve ever been.
He strokes his length, making me watch as I pant. “I was going to be nice and wear a condom, but now?” He shakes his head and leans down, licking my lips. “You’re mine, I don’t have to.”
Releasing his cock, he grabs my thigh and hoists me up. I snarl, fighting against his hold to hit him again. I manage to get them away from the wall slightly, clawing at his hands hard enough to draw blood, before he slams them back.
“Want to act like a fucking animal? I’ll fuck you like one,” he yells in my face.
Before I can retort, I’m yanked away from the wall, spun, and shoved into it once more. My hands land against it as I try to keep myself from falling, and then he’s there, pressed along the length of my back, his cock nestled against my ass as his hand winds through my hair. He tugs on it, and I cry out, drawing my head back until I’m balanced with only his hand holding me up. Gripping my hip, he pulls me backwards and kicks my legs open.
“Get off me,” I demand.
His hand slips between my thighs, finding me wet. “No, you fucking want this just as much as I do, darling, and I’ve had enough of your attitude. I’ll fuck it out of you.”
I struggle again, continuing to fight him, even as I push my pussy harder into his hands. I hate them. I fucking despise these Vipers.
But all this fight, all this hate, has me so needy, that when he lines his cock up at my entrance and slams inside, I scream. Not in pain. In pleasure.
He laughs as he pulls back, fighting my clinging pussy, and slams inside. “Good girl,” he coos, as he licks my neck before biting my shoulder, making it hurt as he thrusts back into me, setting a hard, brutal pace.
This isn’t fucking.
This is hate.
Both of us hate the fact that we want each other. I hate that they took me from my life. He hates that I’m here and have the audacity to not fall at his feet.
It flows through us, guiding us. Each slam of his hips is harsh, his hands digging into my skin as he impales me on his cock. My breasts rub against the wall, the friction making me cry out as I tighten around him.
He’s so distracted with fucking me that he doesn’t notice me turning. I rip my hair from his hold, leaving some strands in his grip, and his cock slips from me as I twist and punch him straight in the face. “You son of a bitch! I’m not yours!” I scream.
He grabs me and flings me to the floor, coming down on top of me. “You are,” he roars as I slap at him, pushing him away before flipping over. I start to crawl away, but his hand circles my ankle and he pulls me back. I slide along the floor with a scream of anger.
Yet not once do I say no.
Because I want this.
And I hate that.
His hands are quick. They yank my hips up, and then he’s there again, pulling me back onto his cock. I groan, I can’t help it. He’s so big, it feels amazing. He slaps my ass hard, no teasing. It isn’t playful, it’s a punishment. He makes it hurt, and I love it.
I cry out, pushing back to meet his rapid thrusts, the sound of our skin slapping loud as he grunts behind me. “Asshole!” I yell, even as I reach between my legs to rub my clit.
His hand gets there first and slaps me away. Leaning over me, he grips my hair once again, balling it up and using it like a leash as he arches my neck, snarling into my ear, “I didn’t say you could come.”
“You bastard,” I cry out as he tilts my hips up further and hits that deeper spot inside me that has my eyes crossing. My breath fogs their perfect floor, my hands scrambling across it as I try to resist, but I can’t.
Not when he’s buried so deep within me, controlling me. Owning me.
“Admit you like it,” he growls, running his teeth along my shoulder, “and I’ll let you come.” The fact that his voice is rough and tight makes me grin, he’s not as unaffected as he thought.
“Wanker,” I snap. “Fucking asshole, dick sucking motherfuck—”
His hand comes down on my ass again and again. Pain radiates through me, even as his cock drags along those nerves. I’m so close, I try to fight it, but when he reaches down and tugs on my piercing, I scream, my release shattering me.
I clamp down on his cock as I writhe beneath him. His hips stutter, then he powers into me twice more before stilling, his cum filling me. Panting, I collapse to the floor as all the fight leaves me, and he falls on top of me, his weight heavy as he pins me there.
A noise has me lifting my head, and when I see who made it, my breathing stops.
Looking up, I spot Diesel standing at the end of the corridor with a grin on his lips. “Well, well, pretty bird, that was quite a show.”
Throwing back an elbow, I feel it connect with Kenzo as he groans and rolls from me. I scramble to my feet and throw him a glare. “You fuck about as good as you fight,” I snap, before tossing my hair back and, with all the dignity I have left, which is not much, I storm into my room and slam the door.
Pressing against it, my heart racing, I feel his release slip down my thighs as I hear him, both of them, laugh outside.
Fuck.
