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My guardian stops just inside the entrance, regarding me in shock. I must look like a wild animal, almost completely nude, hair in tangles, humping a suspended loop of silk. Karson has never seen me in pajamas, let alone naked. And he rakes me with dangerous black eyes now, a muscle jumping in his jaw and never coming down.
“Magnolia,” Karson scolds me.
And that’s all it takes to make me buck harder, sobbing into the air, the chain rattling where it connects to the ceiling. I’ve always been confused by my reaction to Karson. He’s the only father figure that has made an impact I can remember on my life, but he’s not my father, is he? He’s a fifty-one-year-old bachelor who does illegal things for a living. He’s big and broad with silvering hair and eyes that see everything. One time, he put a necklace around my neck that he’d purchased me for Christmas and all I could think about was him yanking it tight around my throat and asking me if I’d been a good girl all year.
Well, I guess we know the answer to that now, considering I’m trying to use my yoga silks to achieve an orgasm. I have not been a good girl. And both men who’ve been aiding me, Mateo and Pace, are flanking Karson with lust in their eyes.
Good.
Come take it out on me.
Maul me.
Take away the pent-up pressure. I can’t live like this anymore.
“Magnolia…” Karson clears his throat hard. “Perhaps you should put on some clothes before I come any closer.”
“I can’t,” I whine, rubbing against the sink sensually. “I’m too hot.”
“Yes, you are, baby,” Pace breathes.
I reach out for him. “Can you try again, Pace. Please. It’s hurting so bad!”
“Dear God,” Karson says, his voice gravely.
“Three men can break the curse,” says Mateo, his tone half reluctant, half eager. “That’s the working theory, anyway.”
“Oh.” That explanation is still lingering in the air when the entirety of the spell comes back to me. One man will never suffice. But three may cause the reverse. I remember now. Is Mateo right? Taking a third man inside of me will end this suffering? “Who…”
Not Karson.
Right?
That’s not why he’s here.
Why is my core flexing at the possibility of having him between my legs? He’s so blunt and mean and primal. A bad man, so much older than me. But he’s never been bad to me. Not even once. In fact, he’s been my savior, hasn’t he? Bringing me here, giving me a home.
Spoiling me.
“Karson…” I whisper, looking at him from beneath my eyelashes.
“No, Magnolia.”
I snap my mouth shut.
He paces toward me, very visibly trying to control his breathing. “There has to be something wrong. Besides a curse. That’s just not possible.”
“It is. It’s real.” A wave of need hits me and I moan brokenly, the punches of my hips rattling the swing chains. “Oh, Daddy, it hurts.”
“Don’t call me that.” Eyes blazing, he strides forward and swats on me on the backside. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper.
He’s so close now. And despite the harshness of his behavior, his tone, his eyes wander over my breasts, down my belly and down to my soaking wet panties. “Oh…fuck. Oh fuck.” Licking his lips, he reaches out as if entranced, stroking his fingertips over one of my painfully puckered nipples. “You are superb, though, aren’t you? Gorgeous tits and sexy little ass cheeks. That face that looks like it was painted by the hand of God. You want to talk about curses?” He reaches down and grips the bulge in his pants. “This is mine, little girl. And you gave it to me.”
The exhilaration that tumbles through me is too much.
It’s huge and naughty and it makes me giggle, bite down on the silk.
“Lucky for you, I’ve got a shred of decency when it comes to you. Or you’d be hog-tied in my bed right now with red handprints all over that tight ass.” He releases the hardness behind his fly, but I can see it costs him a lot of willpower. “I’ll solve this problem for you, once and for all. I’ll finger that little cunt until it stops hurting. Then it’s over. I won’t allow myself any more.”
“Yes,” I whisper, eagerly. “Please. Help me.”
Sweat is beginning to bead on his brow. “Open your legs.”
Nodding obediently, I do as he says, finding a second loop with my right leg and hooking it through the silk. Pulling myself over. The position leaves my thighs open, a silk loop holding me beneath each knee like a pair of lovers’ hands. Opening me for Karson.
“Look at you,” he grunts, shaking his head. “You’ve soaked clean through that innocent pair of underwear. Did I buy you those?”
“Yes,” I whisper, desperate for him to approach. To touch me.
Finally. Please.
Fix me.
