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“Eleanor, Emily—whatever your name is—you need to calm down.”
The shock of hearing her middle name made her inhale sharply. The creep who had been writing her those horrible letters always addressed them to Emily.
Frank could be the creep! And now he would have the chance to do what he had threatened to do in all those letters—those hateful, psychotic letters that had made the last three months of her life a living hell.
And to think she had been attracted to him. To a certifiable psychopath.
She was going to have to get some serious psychiatric help—if she survived the night.
“Help!” she screamed, clawing at his arm. “Security!”
“Stop!” He captured both of her hands in his and spun her into his body.
Soon, her arms were wrapped across her chest and the bulk of him was pressed against her back in one long stretch of unyielding flesh. Eleanor’s body tensed even tighter as his thick shaft pressed between the cheeks of her ass.
Frank was turned on by their struggle, no doubt about it.
Now, however, her fantasy of being forced to take him into her unprepared body didn’t seem nearly as appealing.
Eleanor struggled and stomped her feet, trying to aim a well-placed high heel into the center of his bare foot, but nothing worked. He anticipated every move, breathing heavily in her ear as he continued to hold her, immobilize her, overpower her in every way. In a last-ditch effort, Eleanor dropped her head to his arm, sinking her teeth in deep enough to draw his blood a second time, but the man was obviously not made of mere flesh and bone.
Once again, he didn’t even flinch. He bent his mouth closer to her ear and spoke in the most frightening whisper she had ever heard.
“If you want to live, I highly suggest you stop fighting me, sweetheart. And shut. The hell. Up.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Frank
The woman the entire kingdom knew as the Wicked Stepmother trembled in his arms like a scared little girl, but she didn’t start crying again.
Thank God.
When she had turned from the window with tears in her big brown eyes and black streaks trailing down her cheeks, she’d looked so damned vulnerable. For a second, Frank had actually questioned his ability to complete the mission. He was the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, but he wasn’t equipped for an adversary like this one. He dealt with straightforward things like soldiers and battle strategy, not women.
Of the three, the female of the species was the most intimidating.
Women were unpredictable, changeable, with a disturbing tendency to say one thing and mean another. Eleanor was a prime example. She said all the right “dominant” words, but every breath, every movement, every spark of heat in her fuck-me brown eyes begged for him to take her. He hadn’t expected to run into a sex-starved submissive on this job, l
et alone be tempted to take her up on her unspoken offer to play.
But he didn’t play with women who didn’t understand the lifestyle, and it was obvious Eleanor did not. How she had managed to fool anyone into thinking she was a Domme was beyond him. She was one of the least dominant females he’d ever met, a fact that gave him a raging hard-on that was impossible for him to ignore.
Or for her to ignore, it seemed.
He felt her tense and her heart begin to race as his erection pressed against her ass. He couldn’t seem to help himself, but he could at least let her know that she was safe. No matter how aroused he might be, he wasn’t the type to use force to get what he wanted.
At least not that kind of force.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered.
“You already are,” she shot back, voice strained.
Frank cursed himself as he realized how tightly he was holding her wrists. Yet another reason to keep himself under control. He only trusted himself with a submissive he could count on to let him know when fun rough became too rough.
Frank had never considered himself an insensitive lover, but being so damned big did have its disadvantages. One major downside was that he often truly didn’t know his own strength.
“I’m sorry,” he began, loosening his grip on her wrists.
