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“I’m no princess. If I were, you would be a prince, and this would be a fairytale. And this is anything but. Instead, I’m forced to live in a castle with the villains, held captive against my will.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Who said you’re a prisoner?”
“You’re not letting me go. Not until you take my virginity.”
He laughed in my face, his minty breath sliding across my lips. “You will beg me for the privilege of coming on my cock.”
“The privilege?” I snorted with laughter. “In your dreams, asshole.”
Luca’s hand dipped beneath my short skirt and skimmed my panties that were still wet from being spanked. He brushed my pussy with his long fingers over top of the fabric. I bit my lip to stifle the moan about to escape.
“Look at how easily you give in to me.” He pressed his hand to the door above my head, caging me with his muscular body. “It’s no fun. Fight me.”
I stood painfully still as he touched me. “So you like the fight? That’s nothing new.” He pinned my arms above my head, his hard cock grazing my stomach. “Do you want me to smack you around and pull your hair? What turns you on, Luca?”
Shoes tapped the hardwood floor. Damian strolled down the hall toward us with a cocky smirk in place. He had the highest cheekbones I’d ever seen on a man and full lips that looked blood-red against his pale skin.
A beautiful nightmare.
Nothing about his personality matched his handsome features. His insides were as black as tar. I didn’t think he had a heart. How could he when he treated everyone as if they were disposable? But he was different with his brothers, Bastian especially.
They were childhood friends before their parents died in a horrific plane crash. Damian Townsend and Bastian Kincaid were not always Salvatores. Not until they were nine years old and parentless. Back then, they had made the headlines because they were the youngest billionaires in history. Overnight, they became the sole owners of Atlantic Airlines and the heirs to a massive fortune.
I understood their pasts shaped the men they had become. It also didn’t help that Arlo Salvatore had raised them. That alone probably enhanced their psychotic tendencies. Plenty of people lost their parents at a young age and didn’t turn into monsters. I could only sympathize so much with the Salvatores.
“What’s taking so long?” Damian asked.
Luca let go of me and fixed his suit jacket back into place. “Nothing. We’re leaving now.”
* * *
We boarded a private jet at JFK Airport. Marcello dealt with my bags while Luca spoke to the pilot. Bastian followed me into the large cabin with his hand on my ass.
Long, black leather benches and wooden tables rounded out each side of the plane. They even had a bedroom at the back.
I shivered at the thought.
Bastian guided me to the second table on our right that had four chairs. Damian sat across from us with Luca at his side. Marcello lounged on the bench to my left and stared out the window, shoving a hand through his thick black hair. It was usually messy and falling onto his forehead. I wanted to push it out of his eyes every time I looked at him.
Luca removed his cell phone from his pocket and typed out several text messages in quick succession. His jaw ticked, annoyed by something.
Probably me.
My hands trembled uncontrollably. Trapped between the Salvatores on their private jet, there was no escaping them. But at least Aiden was safe. As long as I followed the rules, he would remain unharmed.
I clasped my hands together to steady my nerves. Bastian moved his big hand to my thigh, his long fingers etching into my bare skin with rough possession. Ignoring him, I stared out the window at the lights illuminating a path to the landing strip.
He inched his hand higher up my thigh, taunting me to stop him. Not this time. They all loved the fight. So I would bore him to death and pretend he didn’t exist.
His fingers grazed my thong, and my heart sped to an impressive rate. Damian tapped a platinum ring on the wooden table. Onyx chips formed a snake at the center. Luca, Marcello, and Bastian wore the same one. The serpent was part of their family crest.
“I’m living at Wellington Manor,” I told them once we were in the air.
Luca leaned back against the leather chair and smirked. Damian’s ring hit the table again, and my heart thumped louder. He stared through me, as if he couldn’t even see a person sitting across from him.
I seriously wondered about Damian and his mental state. While Luca looked down-right possessed by the devil, his usual wicked glare in place, I wasn’t so sure Damian even had a soul to possess.
I expected one of them to respond, but it was Bastian who said, “Sick of us already, Cherry? The fun hasn’t even begun yet.”
