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“So you won’t try to attack me as soon as I release you?” he asked, the twist of his smile letting me know the question was purely rhetorical.
I struggled again, and a frustrated noise that sounded a little like a growl slipped between my teeth. He laughed; a low, rumbling chuckle of dark amusement.
“Such an angry gatita. Maybe I should keep you in cage. Would that tame you?”
“I don’t need to be tamed,” I shot back, my anger bleeding over fear. “I told you the truth. I’m a federal agent. You said you believe me. If you do, then you know you can’t risk hurting me. My friends at the Bureau won’t stop looking for me, and if you’ve…” I couldn’t bring myself to say raped me. “If you’ve hurt me when they find me, they won’t show you any mercy. You have to let me go.”
His frown returned. “That’s up to my brother to decide. Until he does, you’re mine.” His fingers tightened around my wrists as he made the perverse declaration.
“You keep saying that,” I hissed out. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that, right? You’re—”
My next insult didn’t make it past my lips. He pressed his hand firmly against my mouth, his frown twisting with disapproval.
“You will learn to mind your language when you’re speaking to me,” he said coolly. “I need to get dressed, and you need to be quiet and behave while I’m gone. How comfortable you are while I’m out attending to my business is up to you. I can gag you and cage you, or I can leave you free to move around the suite. Make your choice.”
My eyes flew wide, finally leaving his face to search the room. Cage me? Surely he couldn’t be serious.
I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. I’d been too distressed to notice before. Beneath the enormous four-poster bed were bars. Cushions and a blanket made it look like a second bunk beneath the big bed, but that was just my mind struggling to comprehend what I was truly looking at.
What kind of man had a cage under his bed? One that was clearly waiting to trap a frightened, unwilling woman?
“Choose,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, or am I going to have to cage you beneath my bed like a naughty gatita?” His cock jerked against my belly, and I shuddered.
I shook my head as best I could, but my movement was restricted by his firm hand on my mouth.
He studied me for a moment longer, then gave a small nod. The weight of his body finally left mine when he took a step back, and my shaky legs nearly collapsed without his support. He maintained his hold on my wrists above my head, keeping me upright until I managed to find my footing. Once I regained my balance, he lowered my arms, but he didn’t release them. He kept them trapped in one of his big hands as he moved back toward the bed, pulling me along in his wake.
“Please,” I gasped out, my eyes fixing on the cage as panic churned in my gut. “I don’t want to go in there.”
“I’m not going to put you in the cage,” he told me calmly. “You’ve already been punished for your transgressions. I told you: I might seem harsh, but I’m fair.”
“So you’re not going to lock me up?” I asked tentatively, my steps faltering as we reached the bed.
He smirked at me. “I didn’t say that.” He directed me to sit on the mattress and pressed my hands into my lap. “Put your hands on your knees, and keep them there. If you try to fight me again, I think you understand what the consequence will be.”
He finally released my wrists, and I slowly directed my trembling hands to my knees, pressing my palms against them and locking my fingers around my kneecaps. He curled two fingers beneath my chin, applying light pressure. I had no choice but to lift my head and straighten my spine.
“Shoulders back,” he ordered.
I complied, too intimidated to do otherwise. I’d been hunched over in a last-ditch attempt to protect my most vulnerable areas, but he demanded that I sit upright. In this position, my small breasts were exposed, and his eyes flared as he studied my naked body.
“Qué bonita,” he murmured. His fingers left my chin, and I started to slump again. He simply clicked his tongue at me and lightly gripped my jaw, returning me to the position he desired.
“Stay,” he commanded firmly, using the puppy-training voice again.
The ire that had burned through my veins earlier in response to that tone was utterly absent. Instead, a light shiver raced across my skin. He released my jaw, but I didn’t move. He didn’t have to touch me in order to restrain me. He’d thoroughly brought me to heel. He might have spanked me, but it was his unnerving calm and gentle but firm touches that were fucking with my mind. If he’d responded to my violence in kind, I might have maintained the determination to fight. As it was, his iron will kept me trapped as effectively as his strong hands.
He stepped back from me, but he didn’t take his eyes
off me as he crossed the short distance to a chest of drawers set against the wall a few feet away from the bed. He was right to watch me. If he’d taken his steady gaze off me, I would have bolted for the door. As it was, it took nothing more than his dark, stern stare to keep me locked in place where he’d left me.
He opened the top drawer and retrieved a thin strip of black leather, three small silver padlocks, and a length of delicate chain. My breath stuttered as he slowly withdrew the items, allowing me to clearly see what was in store for me.
“I don’t want that,” I managed breathlessly, my gaze locking on the collar. I’d longed for Dex to give me a collar, to love me and mark me as his own. I knew what it meant in the context of consensual BDSM: commitment, devotion.
With Andrés, it would be a symbol of subjugation. Everything I’d craved would be perverted the moment the leather touched my throat.
A single dark brow rose, and he lifted the collar for me to examine. “Does this scare you? It won’t hurt.”
