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Once everything was organized, I washed the grime from my hands and went to retrieve my watch and phone from their protective box, which kept them from getting sooty while I worked. The old watch was so battered that more damage would hardly be noticeable, but I always kept it in the exact condition it’d been in on the day I’d obtained it.
My palm itched at the reminder that sweet little Marisol had dared to steal my stepfather’s watch. Luckily, I’d found it at the pawn shop within half an hour of discovering that it was missing; it’d been my lead to follow the path of her flight to the bus stop.
If I hadn’t managed to recover it, Marisol wouldn’t have avoided a punishment for her escape attempt. Some things were irreplaceable, and my pretty captive would’ve paid a heavy price for my loss.
As it was, her genuine distress at the thought that I might’ve been killed in the coup had softened me enough to spare her. Her concern for my life appeased me far more effectively than any plea for mercy ever could’ve managed.
I powered on my phone, and all notions of mercy were utterly obliterated.
My security system had been triggered along the defensive wall that bordered my property to the north. Motion sensors indicated interference at half a dozen points along the perimeter. This wasn’t an external attack; the motion was detected on the interior side of the wall. A quick check of the CCTV feed revealed Marisol pacing, clearly searching for a way out.
A feral roar ripped through the workshop, and a red haze descended over my mind. I was barely aware that my feet were sprinting toward her, closing the distance between me and my prey. My blood boiled in my veins, and a harsh, purely animal bellow boomed from my chest when I hit the tree line. Grasping branches whipped at my arms as I ran, and the dozens of stinging cuts only sharpened my fury, honing it to one clear objective: subjugate my devious captive.
She’d lied to me. She didn’t give a fuck about my life, and she’d never been worried about me. Just like when she’d kissed me on the day of her betrayal, she’d manipulated me with her softness and false sweetness. She would do anything to escape me.
With a vicious snarl, I increased my pace, closing in on my quarry. Whether she liked it or not, Marisol was mine.
And she would suffer for her defiance.
Quick footsteps pounded the damp earth several yards ahead of me, but petite Marisol would have to take two strides to match each of mine. The sound of fleeing prey heightened my most savage instincts, and I put on a renewed burst of speed.
Her bright, coral dress was a beacon through the trees, impossible to hide. She shot a fearful glance over her shoulder, and her eyes widened when she caught sight of me hunting her down. Her soft, panting cry shuddered along my spine, adding an erotic dimension to my predatory pursuit.
I lunged, and my arms closed around her chest. She shrieked as my momentum took us both down, but I twisted just in time to take most of the impact on my shoulders when we hit the ground. Before she could draw breath for another scream, I rolled, pinning her beneath me. She thrashed, but I caught her wrists and shackled them both in one hand, pressing them tight against the small of her back. I shifted onto my knees, hooking my other arm around her waist to drag her where I wanted her.
I pulled her over my thigh, keeping her torso trapped against the ground with the pressure of my hand around her wrists. The position forced her to arch, pushing her ass up into the vulnerable position I desired.
She twisted, but she only managed to grind her breasts into the dirt and flail her legs uselessly.
“Please!” she gasped, breathless from her flight. “Raúl, I’m sorry. I—”
My hand cracked over the backs of her thighs, one after the other. “Don’t apologize,” I commanded on a guttural snarl. “It won’t save you this time.”
My fingers grabbed the hem of her dress, and I jerked the bright material up over her ass, trapping the gathered fabric beneath her shackled wrists at her lower back. Savage pleasure flooded my system when I revealed the burning red imprints of my hand on her smooth thighs. The marks contrasted beautifully with the lace-trimmed, white panties I’d bought for her.
She wriggled, so I smacked her twice more in sharp rebuke.
“I warned you there would be consequences if you tried to run from me. You’re about to learn exactly what that means.” My voice dropped to a deeper register as the vortex of rage battering my insides slowed. Having her like this—subjugated and utterly helpless—calmed me somewhat. A semblance of rational thought returned, and I settled into grim purpose. “I don’t care if you hate me. Your hatred changes nothing. I will not let you go.” I punctuated the last promise with six harsh swats, making sure she felt each word branded deep in her flesh.
