I didn’t know her name, but I knew every inch of her body. I knew what she looked like when she came—heart shaped lips parted, nostrils flared, cheeks flush with color and sweat, grey doe eyes crossed…and on some occasions, rolled back in her head, her back arched, her nipples hard and glistening with saliva, and more importantly, there was something about her long, black hair clinging to her sweaty skin, to the odd but sexy dip in her hip that made me want to masturbate.I didn’t know his name either, but he fucked her a lot. And hit her a lot. She took each beating as perfectly as she took his dick in her mouth—like a good girl, but I wondered if he saw the hate that flashed in her eyes sometimes. I wondered if he saw how many times her gaze flicked to the hammer she kept at the top of her dresser every time he slapped her.She never left the house. He never let her. They fought too many times on that issue, loud enough to stir me from sleep. She wanted to see the world. She wanted
“There has been an unexpected development regarding the Thompson acquisition,” my secretary, Mark, tells me, and something at the back of my mind tells me this is important, yet, all I can hear is the commotion coming from the other side of the wall demarcating my fence from hers. He’s hitting her again. I really should have fixed this meeting at the office, or a hotel. But HR had decided this was best for…relating better with my employees and old man, Dante, was a pushy bastard sometimes. While the HQ is situated at Milan, we’d recently branched out into LA and I’m here to oversee the start and growth of this branch myself. I’d planned to stay a few months but the product launch is taking longer than expected. And while I often prided in my virtue of patience, I’m starting to lose it. Dante’s analysis of the situation stated that 99.99% percent of my employees thought I was a grumpy jerk who had little to no value for human life and
Their sex tonight time is different. Rougher. They are in her bedroom and she is bent over the arm of a green, plush couch, her hair pulled back by his fist as he rams his dick into her, punishing her, hitting her. Her eyes aren’t closed. No, she’s gazing out the window and my blood heats when she narrows her eyes at me, standing by my window. Surprise shines in her eyes, and I expect her to scream. Instead, her lips part, and her eyelashes flutter, a lustful haze darkening her eyes. And she smirks at me, biting her bottom lip as she comes. “Fuck,” I breathe, stepping away from the window, hands instinctively hiding my erection. There’s no way she sees me. My windows are one way through. There is no fucking way she saw me. Heart seconds away from exploding, I flee into the bathtub, stepping into the shower without taking off my clothes. I’m unsure how long I let the downpour drench me. I don’t get out until my teeth is clattering and my lips are blue. I’m s
I met Jaxon when I was sixteen. We got married when I was seventeen. It wasn’t so much a union of love as it was of necessity. I owed him. He owned me. The first and second years of our marriage had been painful. But it got better when I learned how to submit. How to be a docile little bitch when he needed me to. When I learned to sit by his feet without thinking it…humiliating. When I learned how to stand naked and take his sadistic administrations. When I learned to pretend to enjoy it. I’ve been married to him for four years and I’ve only set foot outside our home twice. It isn’t really ours. He likes to pretend it is mine, give me the illusion of freedom by leaving me all alone. For days sometimes. For weeks. I could walk right out through the gates. There are no guards to stop me. But I won’t. Why? Jaxon knows everything. There are cameras everywhere, monitoring my every breath. He’ll find me if I run—I know this, because I’ve tr
She’s asleep in the backseat, in my fucking coat. So much for wanting to flee from the sight of her and there she lies, snoring softly, her nightdress covering absolutely nothing as she turns, trying to get comfortable amongst my luggage. Bloody, flying fuck. “Sir, if I may—” I raise a tired hand to the new chauffeur. “Leave it. Have the first room in the guest wing tidied.” I groan at the thought of her in my sheets, in my bed, in my fucking house, without clothes. “No, the last room should do. Have it freezing cold. Disconnect the heater.” The middle-aged man arches a brow at me as I meet out more instructions, but he doesn’t ask questions as he hurries across the yard, past the front doors. With a ragged sigh, I get out of the car and pull her door open. “Mrs. Hawke?” I call out. Her lips remain parted and her features peaceful. There are purple bruises along her cheekbones and cuts on her neck and arm
I hug myself as the car bumps roughly and pull to a stop. I toy with the hem of the pyjamas Mr. Zefiro provided me with last night—it is all I had to wear between my display of bravado last night and my pathetic attempt of an escape plan this morning. A door shuts in the distance and I close my eyes, praying to whatever gods exists—not that they’ve ever listened to me anyway.I stiffen when the lock clicks and the lid is lifted. And so, Mr. Zefiro finds me in the trunk of his car.Leave? Where was I supposed to go with no money? Or shoes for that matter? Planning to seduce some money and kindness out of him flopped when the man refused to leave his study the entire night. Stealing from him didn’t work either because after hours of sneaking around his house and locating his bedroom, it was locked.So, in the early hours of the morning while his chauffeur had prepared the car for his use, I knew the best way to leave without asking for the prick’s help was by hitching a ride without
I was defiant for the first few months and my stepmother punished me for it. It was never the kind of punishments that marred my skin. After all, I had to look perfect for the men. My body had to be perfect, my skin a blank canvas for them to paint with c*m and bruises.My stepmother’s punishments were the kind that stained one’s soul with an oily darkness that could never be washed away; the kind that broke one’s will.“Don’t speak a single word, not even when you are spoken to.”It’s the first word Zefiro has said to me since “Cazzo”. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged my presence or looked my way in over ten hours. Agreeing to help me doesn’t include talking to me, I suppose. I just wish I’d brought a book with me or something. I’d been wound up too tight to sleep in the jet and when I asked the cabin hostess to help me set up the display, she had outrightly snubbed me and walked over to Zefiro’s seat way behind me and spoken something Italian to him with the sultriest smile I’v
I haven’t seen Zefiro since that day and it’s been over a week.Truth? I don’t particularly miss him and his rude, perfect lips. I’m fitting in just fine with the rest of the maids. I have a room here, though, it’s alongside the guards’, but it’s mine. The first real thing I’ve had in a while that is mine. I’m horrible at cooking, but the cook likes me anyway. Says I’m oddly enthusiastic and a fast learner.Half the maids don’t like me. Could be because they think I’m sleeping with Zefiro to get special treatments. The other half are so accommodating, you’d think we’ve all been best of friends since childhood. I couldn’t be bothered with the sneers I got, since I was working hard to earn my keep. My first real job. My first real anything. The house manager, Adrianna, had told me the monthly pay would be enough to cover for my accommodation at the house and there’d be enough to keep to myself.I don’t think I’d ever smiled that brightly in my life. If I could save enough, I could leave
Zefiro tsks. “Shame. A year, then.”El Diablo pushes his cash forward as well, hopping on the bargain, and the look Jaxon levels him is one that promises death. But he isn’t the only. Jaxon has left every man salivating with need after me and they’ll bargain for their pound of flesh, fight for it even.“One night,” he growls. “That’s my only offer.”Some men nod, delighted enough that they get a taste of my flesh for just one night. Surprisingly, Alexei concedes, his attention returning to his cellphone, like he’d only chirped in to force Jaxon’s hand.Zefiro, however, isn’t through. “I’ll win, but I’ll let you keep this if you give her to me for a month.”His eyes flick to the cash laid out in the briefcase I hadn’t noticed beside him until now. It’s the largest briefcase I’ve laid eyes on, and I’ve never seen so much money in my life. Millions of euros, I’m sure. Maybe even tens of it. Could be more.Why bother, I think. Why bother spending so much for some public pussy, just for a
“You’re a long way from home, Visconti,” Jaxon says, his voice smooth but unmistakably hostile. His fingers flex on my thighs, parting them wider as he grips hard, a deliberate move because of the man at the table’s head whose gaze washes over me like honey on skin. “Most find the climate in Moscow harsh and the streets hostile. In truth, I had hoped you might get mugged to death in the streets, but it’s not too late, I assume.”I don’t flinch or look, but I hear the smile in Zefiro’s voice as he responds, “Your message was well received, though, I can’t say the same for your mercenary.” An amused glance to the left--I have no idea when my gaze drifted to his beautiful face--and Mr. Visconti’s man...another face that brings me memories and a little bit of relief, brings forward a bloodied man, beaten beyond recognition and limping on both broken legs. His ripped up suit marks him as one of ours, and his eyes turn pleading once they land on Jaxon and me. The demon at the table’s head
There were no more beatings, the crack of the belts and whips on my skin necessary only during coitus. There were options. Safe words. I never uttered them. Jaxon didn’t want me to, anyway.I never fought him, never spoke back. There was no need to. He’d given me everything I no longer deserved. I was reduced to the status of inhuman, degraded to something lower than an animal, but he still lost himself between my legs, told me that he loved me.I believed him.Sometimes, when I sleep, my mind conjures images of a different time. Of a different man. A darkness to Jaxon’s blonde, and eyes that were not nearly of this world. But when I wake up, those memories slip through my fingers.I let them, because they are worth nothing.He didn’t come for me. Jaxon did. Jaxon broke me, but he’d saved me. So, I made myself forget him, his name, his smell, his touch. It was the only way I could love my husband again, and truly appreciate him.Still, I couldn’t part with the ring. Couldn’t chunk it
On some days, the burden of the guilt is too heavy to lift. On those days, the pipe is never too far, filling my lungs and head with oblivion. He would discover it soon, my sin. And he would punish me for it. I often wondered if it would be a shot to the head, like he’d killed Mario for touching her, or if it would be slow and painful, like the deaths of the men he already has rotting in his basement for abducting her in the first place.Of course, I had to kill them when he left. I couldn’t risk them giving him my name, not when I knew Zefiro Visconti was the devil that never forgave. I might be his wife, but there were lines we Italians didn’t toe with each other.Lovers and wives were targets during the power wars, but everyone knew touching a single hair on the women’s heads wasn’t just a crime. It was a sin. There would be no forgiveness. Blood would call for blood, and the only way Zefiro wouldn’t have me chopped in pieces for what I have done is if I killed him.When I was yo
I kick my feet forward and wicked hands grab my calves, pushing them back until my ankles are secured as well, my legs spread so far apart, my thighs cramp.Testing the restraints and finding them unmovable only has wild panic flaring in my blood.The beatings, I could take. Being kicked around, used and abused...I would back fight until I was knocked out or thoroughly overpowered. But being restrained like this, unable to lash out and protect myself for however long it takes to shield my mind from the depravities about to be unleashed on me...it would be the end of me. The end of my will and strength. It might truly break me.“Please.” It is more a desperate snarl than a plea as the guards exit the room. “Please!”A velvety smooth chuckle runs along my spine, snapping my attention from the door to the lone figure approaching me. White suit. Smooth lines. Clean. Empty blue eyes. Fear closes around me like a fist, whole, dominating, absolute. My bladder loosens slightly as the light k
Two months later...The water in the tin can is drugged. I reach for it and drink every last drop of it. It hits the ground with a loud clank and I slump against the cold metal wall.Mice squeak as they scurry past my bare feet, biting, nibbling. I barely feel it as a numbing cold spreads through my fingers and toes, fatigue drenching into my very bones.I welcome it, chasing after the usual fog that comes over my mind after consuming the sedatives. But it never comes swiftly, and I can hear the usual shuffling of feet coming down the dark path leading to my cell.My eyelids droop slowly and I drift for mere seconds before a feminine voice, sharp and wicked, cuts through the haze temporarily. “Nothing still?”“No,” the new guard who’s been positioned outside my cell responds. It might have been days or weeks since the last one was replaced. At some point when I was thrown in here, I kept tabs on how long the shifts lasted. I don’t know why I had bothered hoping. For escape. For him t
“H-home?” My breath lodges in my throat, and for the first time, I notice the woman standing behind, speaking in hush tones into her cellphone. Waves of full red hair falls over the back of a black long dress and her arms drop, her body tilting to face me fully. Icy dread pours through my veins, turning my blood to frost as the world around me closes in on the click of red heels and equally red smile. A crushing weight presses down on my chest and the nauseating stench of wrongly layered perfume suffocates me. A hand comes down on my hair, running down my face and I curl back, my ass hitting the floor and my heels scraping against stone. “N-no. Get away from me!”Valentina gives an order and I am set back on my knees roughly, my head pushed down until my lips brush against Morwenna’s feet.“I’ve been looking for you, Susanna,” Morwenna says with faux worry, her hands threading lovingly through my hair. “Why do you do this to me? Do you have any idea how worried Jax is? How could yo
My head slams into something hard on descent, stirring me awake. I moan at the pain, but my voice is muffled, my lips dried and hurt around a foul tasting piece of cloth.A gag.My vision is tinged with darkness and my air filtered as I breathe in deeply. It takes a moment to realize the darkness is a hood over my head and my legs and hands have been bound, skin chafed raw from restraints.I kick, frustrated, screaming into the gag, rolling and hitting into anything I can feel around me, but I only end up hurting myself. I instantly recognize the steady hum of aircraft and engines that drowns out the sound my assault, and my blood runs cold.Where am I being taken? I knew freaking out wouldn’t help but being somewhere in the skies, literally anywhere right now, in the entire world, doesn’t exactly calm my nerves.How long have I been out and who took me? Was it the enemies Rizzi spoke of?Was it Jaxon?Every hum, every shift of the engines sets my nerves on edge. My heart is pounding
Rizzi snorts. "His life is never in danger, Mrs. Hawke." I bristle at the name, but say nothing, changing my direction and heading for our parking spot. I'd have loved to stay longer but I'm too young to die and a bullet through my head is a rather ugly sight. "How long have you known him?" I ask, sighting Rizzi's car down the lot. There's a black van directly behind it, parked vertically, blocking us out. I notice his frown and at a second glance, I add with a mouthful of chocolate dipped cones."There's someone in the driver's seat." He nods. "Thirty-four years." Rizzi's frown eases a little, the corner of his eyes softening into a secret smile. "He used to call me *frantello*." I start to smile but the air on my neck rises suddenly, a sense of unease coming over me. I huddle closer to Rizzi and match his brisk steps, unable to shake the off-feeling. "You're making a mess," Rizzi says as we reach the van, staring pointedly at the uneaten ice c