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His grin sharpened. “Clever and curious,” he remarked with satisfaction. “No, I wasn’t asleep.” He leaned in, his cheek whispering against mine as he spoke low in my ear. “You can’t escape me, Samantha. There’s only one way out of this penthouse, and it’s barred to you. I don’t have to keep you collared and chained to trap you here. I just like it. I like knowing you’re naked in my bed, waiting for me.”
“You’re sick,” I said shakily.
He laughed softly. “You’ve called me worse already. Do you really think your little insults wound me? I’m going to tame your barbed tongue because I enjoy training you, not because it’s capable of hurting me. If you continue to defy me in this, the only time you’ll be allowed to use your tongue is when you’re worshipping my cock.”
My stomach churned, fear clogging my throat. I didn’t have any words, anyway. What was there to say in response to such a horrible declaration?
“But you wanted to see the rest of my home,” he continued smoothly. “Let me show you.”
“I don’t want to,” I squeaked out. “Please. I’ll go back to bed.”
He clicked his tongue at me. “The time for being a good girl has passed. You’ve been a curious gatita. You know what happens to curious kittens, don’t you?”
Curiosity killed the cat. “You said you wouldn’t kill me. Your brother wants me alive.”
His hand tightened around my nape. “This is about what I want,” he growled. “I don’t want you dead. I want you crying out and begging for mercy. My mercy. Don’t talk about my brother. Don’t think about him. He’s not your concern. I am.”
Keeping his grip on my nape, Andrés pulled me along in his wake, moving toward the closed door I'd noticed opposite the wall of windows. Dread settled in my gut, and my feet dragged on the carpet in token resistance. I could have clawed at him, at the very least. But my body remembered the punitive feel of his finger invading my bottom, and I didn't even half-formulate a plan to fight before he'd managed to drag me to the door.
"Please," I begged. "I don't want to go in there."
"You don't even know what you're scared of," he said, his voice colored with amusement.
"Whatever it is, I don't want it. You wouldn't want to take me in there if it were anything good. You're scaring me."
"You should be scared. You've been very naughty, trying to escape from me."
"But you just said I can't escape. I can't use the elevator. You don't have to hurt me to keep me from using it," I babbled on, desperate to stay on this side of that closed door. Even though the words tumbling from my lips made my heart sink as I recognized the truth in them, I had to press on. I didn't want to be punished.
He reached for the knob and pushed. The door swung open into darkness. The city lights shining behind us barely penetrated the blackness, as though refusing to illuminate the ominous space. The light had no place here. The scent of leather and something deeper teased through the air that drifted through the open door.
"Don't," I gasped out as he propelled me forward, into the darkness.
The soft click of a light switch being flipped registered in my ears, just before panic seized my senses.
It was like something out of the scariest corners of the internet. I'd seen some fucked up dungeon porn. Andrés might as well use this room as a set for the most depraved, disturbing videos I'd ever glimpsed before quickly clicking the back button on my browser.
Creepy crimson lights illuminated the space so I could clearly see every object that waited to torment me. It reminded me of the time I'd ventured to the BDSM club Dusk on my particularly misguided Valentine’s Day mission to seduce Dex.
"This isn't like Dusk," I told myself softly, not realizing I was speaking the words aloud. "It's not. Dusk is Safe, Sane, Consensual." I knew the tenets of BDSM, even if I'd never practiced it myself. "This isn't. I don't want this. Not like this."
"You've been to a BDSM club?" Andrés' voice penetrated my mounting terror. He kept his grip on my nape, but he stepped in front of me. His angry black eyes filled my vision, botting out the horror that surrounded me. "I thought you were my innocent little virgin. Did you lie to me, Samantha? I wondered when I didn't feel your hymen intact. But those can be broken in other ways, and I thought your surrender was genuine." His scar deepened to a furious slash. "I wasn't the first man to touch you. If you think you've suffered under my hand before, that's nothing compared to what's about to happen to you."
"No!" I half-sobbed. "I wasn't lying. I am a virgin, I swear."
"Then how do you know about Dusk?" he demanded.
"I went there one time," I gasped out. "I was looking for Dex. I followed him there. I wanted to see him. I wanted him to see me. But he didn't. He never does. I got drunk and left. I didn't do anything but drink at the bar. I promise, I didn't do anything. I didn't lie to you. Please, don't hurt me."
His eyes softened, his scar easing as the tension left his mouth. He didn't release me, but his grip shifted so his fingers rubbed the back of my neck.
"All right, sirenita. I believe you. I don't think you could lie convincingly if you tried. You will explain more about this later. For now, you have a lesson to learn."
"I just want to go back to bed." A tear slid down my cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.
"I'll put you to bed when we're finished in here. You must be punished for trying to escape. You need to understand that your behavior has consequences."
I started crying in earnest, harsh sobs wracking my chest as fear seized my system.
