My head is blissfully clear when I wake up the next day. Thinking of nothing but the feel of the sheets on my skin, the weight of the duvet on my back, and the stream of sunlight filtering in through the windows of the wide french doors, I don’t feel guilty, ashamed, or worried. All I know is that I’m waking up like the world is wonderful, and I’m blessed to be in it.
This feeling of contentment and happiness is so foreign to me that I forget my name. But then, everything comes crashing down on me.
I shoot to my feet, looking around the room. I’m alone, but I can still smell Shane in here: his cologne, the musky and delicious scent of his skin. The bed beside me is rumpled, and I wonder if he slept beside me or laid there after he’d had his filthy way with me.
What have I done?
My head spins, and I drop back to the bed, trying to get a hold of myself before I pass out.
“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” I coach myself.
Finally, after a few minutes of breathing, and the door remaining shut, everything holds still. I look around, understanding I need a plan.
The sheets are white and crisp. I guess any virgin blood I might have shed was left behind on the sheets Tim and I shared. For a moment, I consider his reaction, and I want to die. Pushing the thought aside, I catalog the room, which is larger and more spacious than my entire house. Given this is a literal castle, that shouldn’t surprise me.
The decor here is warmer than the floor below, wooden and rustic, like being in a log cabin. Fire burns in the fireplace, and french doors open onto a terrace with the most fantastic mountain view. I’m breathless again; it’s not panic this time but rather the vista sprawling before me.
After a stunned few minutes of enjoying nature’s beauty, I turn back toward the room and notice my phone on the nightstand. I run to it on stumbling feet, and my fingers shake as if it’s a bomb rather than an old Galaxy. Surprisingly, it’s charged, and I have no texts or missed calls. Maybe Tim hasn’t been home yet. Perhaps he left me as Shane said he would.
That would be an incredible relief, but I don’t believe I’ve gotten that lucky.
I’ve been at the hands of violent men enough to know how a small misstep can set them off. But I still open my phone and try to search for my location. Rather predictable, it’s turned off and I can’t get into my settings. Much to my surprise, I have full service, although my contacts list has never looked so short. Calling the police is an option. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your view of the situation, I’m confident Shane could have me out of here long before they reached me.
I think about calling anyone for a minute. My dad is the only person other than Tim that would even consider picking me up. But the price of that is way too high. And with what I would have to tell him happened, I’d rather die. There’s no one for me to call, nothing for me to say. Even I can’t deny that while Shane did force himself on me and kidnap me, I never said no, and deep down, I wanted every minute of it. So I’m holding this phone and hesitating as if I expect it to explode in my face. And I believe that’s because I don’t want to call anyone.
What this phone represents seems too good to be true. It feels like a test designed for me to fail, so tell me why some fucked-up little bitch inside me wants to please Shane anyway. It occurs to me that I’m swearing without the associated guilt, and while I don’t remember, I know Shane is responsible. So instead of taking the obvious bait the phone offers, I call his cell.
His secretary picks up, and my jaw drops at her chipper voice. What the fuck? I thought I was calling his personal line, but that’s not the case. I hide my shock as best I can and tell her I need to speak to Dr. Shane. All that pep deflates when she hears my name. Fuck you too, Tasha. I expect her to tell me that Shane’s not in or out for a few days, but when she says I’ll transfer you, I snap.
“Seraphina,” he purrs down the line a moment later.
My body responds to the sound of his voice like he’s been bringing me to mind-altering orgasm repeatedly for years, like it knows him and his command better than anything else. I’m wet and ready for him, desperate to feel that too-tight stretch that comes with taking him all the way. The image of his trimmed hair tickling my clit as he pumped into me last night, fills my mind. But none of that matters right now.
“Are you really at your office?” I’m seething mad. Angrier than I’ve ever been. “Did you really kidnap me, drive me out here, fuck me senseless and drive back to the city to offer psychiatric care?”
“Can you really say you were ‘kidnapped’ when you are left alone in a comfortable bed with your phone? Because if that were the case, I’d call the police, not my kidnapper,” he sounds so fucking smug.
“I could, you know…” I’m bluffing, but he’s so damn smug.
“Could what?”
“Call the police,” I taunt.
“Then who would make you come?”
“I can do that myself.”
His chuckle reaches down the line, tingling my spine. “Go ahead, Angel. Do it right now. I’ll wait.”
“Make myself come or call the police?”
“After our lessons, you have a much better chance of the first, but—”
I hang up on the bastard and dial nine-one-one. It rings, but I hear footsteps in the hallway instead of someone answering.
“Hello,” Shane’s smooth voice greets me through the phone as he throws back the door. He laughs, and it echoes through both our phones. I end the call, hoping to save what’s left of my ears as the feedback punishes me for my actions. “You called the police on me? That’s very naughty.”
I swallow hard, watching his position. He’s not moving yet, but I don’t trust that.
“You told me to. I thought you liked it when I’m obedient.”
He gives me a sexy half-smirk. “I also told you to make yourself come, Angel, but that phone was a test, and you failed.”
I huff in outrage.
“How could I have failed?! I called you first!”
“You did, but you also called the police on me.”
“You kidnapped me!” I shoot back, “And why did your secretary say you’re in the office? Clearly, you’re not!”
He smiles softly at me.
“I’m taking clients virtually, Angel. A lot of people rely on me.”
He steps toward me, and I slap at the hand that traces my cheek. He ignores me and moves to my lips next.
“I thought you were mad about what happened between us, not me giving my patients attention.”
I roll my eyes at that and turn away from him.
“What happened between us is the problem. If you’re giving your attention to your other patients, that’s fine by me.”
“Someone is feeling bratty this morning.” I’m unsure if he’s teasing or trying to soothe me, but the statement is true enough. “Come here, Angel. Let me make you feel better.”
“Shane, I don’t want to do any more of that. We’ve done that too many times, and I already feel like garbage.” I turn toward the closet, hoping I can find some clean clothes and take a shower. He came inside me more than a few times, and it’s coating my thighs.
“I don’t need to fuck you to make you feel better. How about I draw you a bath? I promise no funny business. I hate fucking in water.”
My cheeks immediately turn pink, but I giggle. I look Shane over from head to toe now that I’m not fuming mad anymore. His black hair is sleep rumpled. Those stunning blue eyes rove over me like I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. His incredible body is coiled ever so slightly, and I nod.
“Get naked. I’ll get everything ready.”
About ten minutes later, he stalks out of the bathroom, and his eyes find mine. There’s heat there and anger.
“I told you to get naked.”
“I can’t just get naked in front of you. I’m married, Shane.” The argument is knee-jerk, and it doesn’t hold up at this point.
He’s in my face, his hand is around my throat, and I think he’s going to choke me half to death as Tim did. His hand tightens slightly, and I’m shaking, but the squeezing never comes. He’s not choking me. Instead, he’s restraining me, collaring me. His fingers find my jaw, tipping it up, forcing me to face him.
“Listen to me, Seraphina. He left you. You are not his wife. You are mine. I don’t want to hear another word about him. Do you understand me?”
My cheeks are hot, and I’m unsure if it’s the blood rushing to my face or my tears. “Please, don’t hurt me.” I assume I need a lot of effort to gasp the words out, but it’s easy. He’s not hurting me.
“I would never hurt you, Seraphina, but I will prove a point to you every damn time if I have to. I will do whatever I must to convince you that you’re mine and nothing else matters.”
“I want that to be true so badly, Shane, but it’s not. I want to give in to this more than anything, but I can’t. This is wrong.”
My tears are running over the hand around my throat, but he holds me in place.
“This is not wrong, Seraphina. No one is judging you.”
His words relieve the worst of my suffering, but I’m still hesitant and keeping my distance as best I can while he holds my throat.
“I know you’re afraid, but do you know what else you are?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re turned on, Seraphina. It’s time you stop letting that piece of shit ruin your life. Now, take off your fucking clothes and get in the bath before I make you.”
A smile slides over my lips, and a crazed little giggle slips out. Shane’s eyes shine with frenzied light.
“You are so perfect for me, my dirty little Angel.”
He pushes me back until my knees hit the bed and then lays me down. Starting with my top, he slowly peels off my clothes. I’m naked and panting when he lowers and sucks my breast into his mouth.
I moan long and loud. “I thought you weren’t going to try to have sex with me.”
“I’m not. I’m sucking your tits.”
He switches to the other, then bites the tip of each nipple. I’m moaning and writhing. He pops off with a wet sucking sound and flips me over. He fondles my ass before bending my arms behind my back and forcing me to my feet. Pathetic mewling sounds slip from my lips as he pushes me forward and trails his lips across my neck.
“I’m glad you waited for me, Angel, but the more I think about what a needy slut you are, the worse I feel for leaving you unattended for so long.”
I flush from my hairline to my breasts, and my aching nipples harden further.
“You said this wasn’t about sex,” I complain as he pushes me toward the ensuite.
“This is about me apologizing for neglecting what’s mine. And I hate that I neglected your needy cunt when I could have made your life better, happier, and more relaxed a long time ago.”
“You think highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“I do.”
His lips skim along my neck as we enter the bathroom. The steam raises goosebumps along my skin.
“But it’s more so that I know how therapeutic sex is and how badly you need to feel wanted.”
Shane releases my arms as we stand at the edge of the tub.
“Climb in, Angel. You’re sore from being tied up for hours yesterday. I’m going to rub every inch of your body until you’re soft as putty, and we’re going to have another session.”
I shiver as I pick up my foot and dip it into the hot water, allowing my body to adjust to the temperature difference.
“Another session?”
“If you let me, we’ll do this every day. I’ll spend the rest of our lives pushing you to the edge, freeing you of pain and self-doubt. I’ll make you feel better than you thought possible, and do you know what else?”
“What?”
“As long as I’m in it, I’ll ensure you have whatever life you want.”
