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Beauty doesn't cross my mind often. Not until I saw her in the flesh.
She shifts a little in my lap, and I know why. All these thoughts of the first sight of her has my cock going rigid in the confines of my pants. I can't help it—her beauty, her scent, her captivity that I now hold, it’s sickeningly arousing. If only it were the right time for me to fuck her so hard she’d know just what being mine means, I would do it here and now. But it’s not. Not yet.
“Your name? Who are you?” Her voice has a tremble of fear and, dare I say, a hint of arousal.
My cock was made for her, and no matter the severity of this twisted start, her body can't deny it.
“DeLuca, piccolina. My name is DeLuca, but you can call me your keeper. Nothing else. Got it?” I practically snarl, so fucking turned on the heat in my veins is boiling, making me want to rip the fucking clothing from my own body.
“And... and if I don't?” she stutters, testing me. Enticing me, really.
I don't answer her. Instead, I thrust my hips up, my hard cock hitting her core, the heat undeniable even through our clothes. God, she’d be exquisite to fuck.
“Please, don't—not against my will,” she cries out, the sound rounding out into a moan. Her tone, the grind of her ass against my lap… none of it matches the words she says. I’m positive she’d like it if I did just that. My sweet captive keeps surprising me.
“Behave and I won't.” I hear her swallow, the movement seeming to go slow.
Taking a breath to speak, she stops abruptly when the car rolls to a stop. Maxwell climbs out, rounding the hood to open my door. I move us effortlessly from the car, and Arabella clings to me as if she trusts me. God, she really shouldn't. Trusting me is like laying her soul at the devil's feet. She shouldn't fear Ferro, no; it's me she should be afraid of, run from, and hope to find an escape.
She won't. I won’t ever let her. But her trying her damnedest might be something I enjoy far too much.
5
Arabella
My instincts tell me to trust my captor.
Is it driven—this trust—by my sudden arousal, or is the fantasy of escaping my marriage at the hands of a man more dangerous and deadly than my husband really what I'm feeling? Have I read so many books about women winning the hearts of antiheroes that I’ve tricked myself into believing this could be my reality, when really, this man has sinister, more deadly plans for me?
Though, for some reason, there is something about him that makes me feel safe, turned on, alive, and like I’m tempting fate all at once, and I haven't even seen him yet. All I know is his touch and his name. DeLuca. And I don’t even know if that’s his first or last name.
How is this real? I know it was bad at home, know I wanted out, but at this cost and risk?
“What do you need from me, boss?” a male voice asks.
“I want to be left alone with her tonight. Take my card and go back into the city. Buy her clothes and necessities to last her here until I decide what to do with her.”
What to do with me?
So he’ll take what he wants and then eliminate me?
Of course. How could I be so stupid to romanticize this situation? Because I’m a fool who was born and raised as the princess of hell itself, and I don't know how not to live life any other way. This morbid world is... normal to me. Even my own kidnapping and death. I’ve been surrounded by these situations since the first breath I ever took.
“You got it.”
“Also, I have some appointments at the hospital tomorrow, so you will be in charge of watching her,” DeLuca rumbles.
The hospital? He works there?
“Yes, sir.” I hear him turn to leave, but my captor stops him.
“Maxwell?”
“Yes, sir?”
“She is mine, and I won't take it well if I find out anyone has touched her or threatens to take her away.”
I gulp. And whatever look accompanied that threat made its way to Maxwell, because it scared him enough to have him meekly respond a confirmation and retreat.
DeLuca starts moving then, taking us inside wherever it is we are now, and I risk asking him quietly, “Please, can you remove the cover? I won't run.”
I know better than to run or try to escape. Where would I go? Plus, I know the outcome. It’s always the same in this life. No one ever makes it out alive. There are never news reports of kidnap victims being found alive and well in Desolation, NY. Ever.
“I know you won't. I wouldn't let you.” With that, he places me on my feet, and I wobble a bit, but then he keeps me steady.
