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She looked so pale scurrying over the emerald and ruby rug. So afraid as she bumped against the bed where four carved posts soared to the black ceiling with swathes of gold velvet draped down the sides.
If Cem wanted a show, I’d give him a show.
Sitting heavily on the bed, I kicked out my fake leg, tossed my cane behind me, and snarled at the girl on the ground. “Kneel between my thighs,” I growled in English.
The words had a magic.
A wonderous kind of power that gave me what my tattoo had done.
They were a link.
A direct tether to a past I couldn’t forget and the shreds of my old self bled through.
I might be Aslan Kara.
The son of a Turkish crime lord and successor to all his fortunes.
But...I was also an orphan, refugee, and husband.
Fuck...I’m a husband.
To Neri.
Just saying her name sent another frisson of freedom down my spine.
I sucked in a breath.
Hope barrelled through me.
If I could think of her name without flinching...perhaps...perhaps—
Cem will know.
He’ll put you back down there.
He’ll strap you to the chair.
He’ll turn on the machine.
Cold sweat broke out over my forehead, and I bent down, snatched the girl’s hair, and dragged her unwillingly between my legs. Snapping my thighs together, I held her there even as she struggled. With swift fingers, I unbuckled my belt, popped my button, and tore down my zipper. My tailored suit was made of the finest material and the slacks splayed open in invitation. Spreading my blazer and untucking my black shirt, I didn’t bother shoving down my boxer-briefs.
“Fuck you!” the girl screeched, trying to bite me as I hauled her closer.
Burying my face into her neck, I hissed into her ear, “I am not like the others. I won’t hurt you, and I’m sorry that I just did. But if we’re both going to survive tonight, you need to pretend.”
She stilled and sucked in a breath, listening.
“Pretend to suck me off.”
She wrenched back. “I’m not putting my mouth on any part of you—”
“Quiet,” I snarled, shooting a look at the mirror. “We’re being watched. Behave and pretend, and I’ll do what I can to get you out of here.”
Her hands landed on my bunched quads. “Why should I believe you?” she whispered. “You’re just like them. You are one of them.”
“I’m not.”
“Prove it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Get me out of here.”
“Pretend to suck me, and I’ll do my best.”
She fought me until I let her go just enough to look me in the eyes. She stared at me for the longest moment. She dove into the wreckage of my soul. “Help me,” she breathed. “Please...”
I didn’t reply.
I didn’t want to lie that I might not be able to.
I sucked in a breath as her hands slid up my thighs and went to the waistband of my boxer-briefs.
My hands landed automatically on her shoulders to stop her.
I didn’t want her touching me, regardless of what I just said.
She could be a real fairy with pixie dust and love potions, and I wouldn’t be able to get hard. I wouldn’t be able to come.
I was as flaccid as I’d ever been.
But how much could the people behind the mirror see?
Would they be able to see my nakedness or know that this was a sham?
Glancing around the room as subtly as I could, I searched for other mirrors.
My heart sank as I glanced into the canopy of the four poster.
Not a mirror.
Cameras.
Red-blinking, recording cameras angled right at my fucking crotch.
Shit.
My stomach roiled.
My heart pounded.
My hands fell off the girl’s shoulders as I surrendered yet again to another version of torture.
She looked up from my lap, her gaze burning with fear, her eyebrows pinched together. “So I just pretend...?”
“I-I—” My voice cracked. I swallowed hard. “I don’t think that will be enough.”
Hate hardened her face. “If you’re playing me, I’ll fucking—”
“Quiet,” I seethed. “Just...free me and angle over my cock. Don’t do anything more.”
She cursed under her breath.
I waited for her to fight me.
My brain whirred with a new plan to prevent us from being hurt tonight, but she finally obeyed and shifted higher on her knees.
With my heart in my throat and my eyes locked on the mirror, I pasted an expression that I hoped resembled lust and greed as the girl exposed me.
Flicking me a glance, she reached for me.
I flinched as her hands curled around a part of my body that hadn’t been touched without pain in so many years.
It sickened me.
Repulsed me.
“Just...act like you’re sucking,” I hissed, doing my best not to enunciate English words in-case Cem could read my lips in the mirror. “I don’t want you to actually—”
I groaned as her mouth encircled my tip.
Hot and wet.
Sick and twisted.
I froze in horror.
Maybe I would get hard.
Maybe the electrocutions had fried that part of me.
Perhaps my steadfast, soul-bound loyalty to Neri had broken in the years I’d been abused.
