Chapter 10: Ours: Chapter 10

They were out there, on the other side of this damn door…someone was, at least.

I was sure of it.

I felt them more than heard a sound. The air was charged, rippling with that unmistakable tension of male. I was starting to hate that fucking stain. I took a step toward the door, then glanced at the sheer black curtains covering the window. I’d throw myself through the damn thing, even from up this high…if I had anywhere to escape to.

No. My hope of that had disappeared in the rear window of the car that bastard had abducted me in. Ryth and her stepbrothers were left far behind. I didn’t even know if they were still alive. She would be, of that I was sure. The Order wouldn’t risk their property.

And that’s all we were to them.

Property.

I fixed my gaze on the sheer curtains, pulled aside enough for me to glimpse the darkness outside…again.

Again.

The word resounded. Three days they’d held me here. Three days to pace the floor and come up with every vile thing I wanted to do to that man…and his fucking sons, the moment I could escape. I was London St. James’s prisoner. There were no two ways around that. I’d tried the locks on the windows, but the plastic cutlery he left me with proved useless.

Still, I’d managed to get one of the locks bent enough to look like I could escape. That would piss him off and ruin his perfect bedroom…one he’d set up for me.

Did he think the darkened, moody tone was sexy? I lifted my gaze to the black felt headboard on the king size bed and the soft pink Egyptian cotton sheets. Did he think I’d like anything he bought me? The perfect sheets drew my gaze. Sheets that felt like satin as I slid between them.

Right now, only the fitted bottom sheet was there. I looked down to the same dusty pink wrapped around my body. Because the other one was occupied. I tucked the corner back in place around my hips and checked the knot at my back. It seemed like his expensive sheets weren’t only good for sleeping on, they also came in handy to wear.

Black, paired with blood red, and soft pinks filled the expansive room. No, I hated this room and everything in it.

Ward.

That’s what he called me. But that was just a pretty name for a captive. His…own personal slave. Only he hadn’t forced me. Not yet, at least. I pressed my palm against the door, then tried the handle. The lock caught, the steel, unforgiving. “Let me the fuck out!”

I slammed my fist against the wood.

Outside, there was a whisper of sound.

A scrape of something on the other side.

Terror pricked at the nape of my neck, standing my hair on end. “I know you’re there.” I pressed my palm against the painted wood. “I can hear you breathing.”

“Can you?”

I flinched at the voice and pulled away. But the voice wasn’t London’s. It was the son, only which one was it? Their identical faces filled me, only everything else was a blur. “Your name.” I stared at the door. “What is it again?”

Silence. Before a tiny chuff.

That sound pissed me off. “I say something funny to you?”

Still there was nothing.

The corner of my lip twitched. “You can’t keep me here forever. I’ll get free. I might even kill daddy while I’m at it, what do you think about that, asshole?”

I knew he heard me, but still, he said nothing. That only incited my rage.

“Answer me!” I screamed, beating the door until it shuddered. “Answer MEEE!”

But he didn’t. Because he wasn’t there, not anymore. There was an emptiness he’d left behind. It was a vacuum of silence. Just like this fucking place. A crushing weight…a heaviness in my gut. Because I’d disappeared, again…hadn’t I?

Just like the first time, when my family got rid of me the first opportunity they had. I’d fought and kicked when they’d tried to drag me to some fucking convent. I’d lashed out, begging to stay when they realized their threats to me were nothing more than words.

To be fair, they’d never loved me.

Hell, they’d barely even tolerated me.

Because they weren’t my blood. No one was.

I should consider myself lucky that I hadn’t been in the foster care system. No, instead I’d been raised by parents who had the emotional connections of fucking robots.

All I had was me. My wits. My strength. My cunning.

That had to be enough to get me out of this.

I didn’t have a choice, did I?

The slow thud of footsteps echoed from the stairs. I dropped my hand from the door and stepped backwards. I’d had this moment in my head for hours…but now I wasn’t so sure.

I glanced down at the sheet wrapped around me and stepped backwards until the back sof my legs hit the edge of the bed as the lock clicked and the door opened.

Then the devil himself walked in, carrying a tray of food.

Of course, he locked the door behind him. Nothing could be that easy. He didn’t glance my way, didn’t even speak as he placed the tray on the desk next to the half-eaten sandwich and the empty water jug. “Good.” His words were careful. “You’re starting to learn.”

“Fuck…you.”

That impenetrable, icy stare cut my way as he straightened, then his gaze slowly lowered. I didn’t fight the surge of satisfaction at the look of distaste that followed. “Where are the clothes I provided?”

“I threw them out the window.”

He flinched, his gaze shifting to the curtains behind me. “You did what?”

I smiled wider. “I threw them…out the window.”

His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed, drawing attention to the faint lines near his temple that showed every bit of his age. I jutted my chin higher. “If you want someone to dress like a whore, then you should wear the fucking clothes yourself…Daddy.”

He went still. So still he looked like a damn statue, then he moved across the room faster than I could track. His hand lashed out, gripping me by the throat, forcing me backwards until I fell onto the bed.

He was on top of me in an instant, leaving no room for me to escape.

“Those cost me a fucking fortune.” His cultured, stony tone made fear flutter in my chest, as he looked down to the sheet hugging the curve of my breasts. “The next time you decide to throw away something I buy you will be the last time you get the freedom to perform such an act. Do I make myself clear?”

A shiver passed through me.

He cut that deadly stare to mine, his grip tightening, until I fought the urge to cough. “I said…do…I…make… myself…clear?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Slowly his hold eased before he pulled away and stood. That chilling stare fixed on my body, the way my hard breaths pushed against the fabric. I felt a trickle of cold air, a slither that caressed my hip where the sheet gaped open. The graze of his fingers made me shiver as he pushed the sheet aside for it to fall between my parted thighs. One more inch to the left and he’d see everything…revealing the nothing I wore underneath.

Because that’s what he wanted…wasn’t it?

My body bare.

Open.

Exposed.

Waiting for the brutality of his touch.

He licked his lips, his chest rising.

I saw it now. London St. James had a breaking point, and I’d finally reached it.

That flutter in my chest sank lower, until it settled between my thighs, tucked a little deeper than the sheet. My pussy clenched with the throb. I hated that, hated how, instead of beating him with my fists and screaming in his face, I wanted him to push that sheet wider.

I wanted him to see me.

To fucking use me.

To take me back down to that basement and make good on his threats.

Oh God…

My cheeks burned. The heat only made that heartbeat between my legs throb harder. I didn’t need a mirror to see my own humiliation, I saw it all on his face. There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he fed on my shame like a vampire.

“Now, I want you to eat the food I bring you…and Vivienne.”

“Yes?”

He glanced at the fabric hugging my pussy, his voice edged with need. “I’ve had it with your attitude. One more display from you and I’ll take you downstairs. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Throb…

I swallowed and slowly nodded, my pulse frantic in my chest.

“Good,” he murmured, meeting my gaze. “Now eat. I’ll return later for the tray.”

He spun on his heel and went to the desk, then picked up the plastic sandwich plate and water jug before heading for the door.

I didn’t dare breathe until the door locked behind him. I just waited for it to snap before the air left my lungs in a whoosh.

“Jesus.” I dropped my hands to the comforter and fisted the softness.

That was close…

That was real fucking close.

Throb…

Throb…

I shifted my thighs, the faint brush of fabric, tickling the sides of my pussy. I was wet…and aching. I reached down, dragged the edge of that expensive fucking sheet aside, and sank my fingers in.

“Ohhh,” I moaned, closing my eyes.

I wasn’t soft, wasn’t warm. I didn’t move first for my clit in an attempt to get myself ready. I just sank two fingers in, as far as they’d go—it wasn’t far enough. Not anywhere near enough. I parted my thighs wider and thrust again.

I’ve had it with your attitude.

A moan tore free, low and guttural, sounding like an animal.

Take you down to the basement.

Take you…take you…I quickened my thrusts, sliding out of the slick to find my clit. Fuck, I was wet…wetter than I’d ever been in my life. “No.” I clamped my eyes tighter. I didn’t want to be, but I couldn’t stop this, not even if I tried.

I wanted this. I wanted…him.

My clit pulsed, my pussy clenched.

As my mind screamed for release.

I drove three fingers into my cunt and stilled, bucking my hips up from the bed. I’d let him fuck me in that moment…him and his two sons. I’d let him do whatever he wanted…

Fuck.

I came harder, pulsing, clamping, warming against my hand. I closed my thighs together and rolled, clamping my fingers in place still inside me…and as my mind slowly came back to reality, I heard that sound outside the door again.

The weight of him.

Whoever he was…

And knew he’d heard everything I’d just done.

“Fuck you,” I gasped. “Fuck you all.”

I slowly slid my fingers free, lifting them to my mouth. Salty, sweet. I liked my own taste. My eyes focused, finding the tiny hint of black peeking out from under the edge of the pillow.

I didn’t want to move, but I did, stretching up to snag the edge of the garment and dragged it free…lifting it into the air in front of me.

This wasn’t lingerie. This was pure fucking entertainment…his entertainment.

The high-waisted harness panties were mostly straps at the back. Thick around the waist to dive down to thin straps, they were supposed to hug my hips. I was guessing the two plunging ones were supposed to crest the curve of my ass and dive underneath, perfect to pull me open.

He wanted me to wear this.

No, he demanded I wear this.

For my humiliation and nothing more. Because he couldn’t break the contract. If he did, then I’d be gone for good. That’s all that stood between me, that monster, and the stark white walls of The Order. One pathetic slip of paper and his goddamn signature.

I bet I’d even hate his fucking scrawl.

Was London St. James a man of honor? No. But he was a man of consequence. I swallowed hard, still feeling the strength of his grip around my throat. That I already knew. Break his oath to the monsters who ran The Order and there’d be hell to pay.

I stared at the flimsy mess in my hand.

If he wasn’t prepared to break the contract…

Then why the hell did he want me to wear this?

I’ll take you down to the basement.

His threat still lingered.

He might not be able to invade my body, but that wouldn’t stop him from degrading me in other ways. London was a man hellbent on my destruction. The only question was, would he claim my desire as well?