Wicked Stalker (Captives of the Onyx Brotherhood #1)

Twenty

Eve

Strip. It's a command, not a suggestion, delivered in that stern voice of his, the one that reminds me, in a single syllable, he has all the power.

The sound of the word and all the implications it carries stir something deep in that dangerous part of me. The part that drank the darn champagne and got me into this mess. It carries a promise. Something tantalizing, as well as frightening.

Following the command would have been impossible just twenty-four hours earlier. My muscles would have locked up, frozen in place with shame. Heat still sears my face, lighting my cheeks with a glow Gabriel will no doubt find amusing. My hands still shake.

But they move. I grip the hem of the dress, raise it to my thighs, then pause, struggling with what comes next. The exposure. I could argue, but right now, I don't want to. I've already earned a punishment. Stupid to make things worse.

“Now, Eve.”

A shudder overtakes me at his words, and I force down the shame. No choice. I remind myself of that as I raise the dress over my head. He’s taken my options away. My stomach clenches at that in a way that isn’t all fear. I have to do as he says, however depraved the order.

I drop my dress on the floor, and he waits, not entirely patiently, as I remove the bra. He keeps still, but the fingers of his right hand tap on his knee in a repetitive pattern as I struggle with the stiff clasp. He wants to see me. He’s practically vibrating with the need to, despite his overlaid calm. His desire fills the air, turning the space between us charged.

I finally free myself and wince at the way my breasts move as I drop the bra onto the dress. I’ve never focused so much on my own body. I stand, hands clasped in front of me, shifting from foot to foot.

“And the rest, Eve.”

Heat scalds me, inside and out, as I hook my thumbs into the sides of the panties. That white cotton is my final shred of armor, and it takes everything I have to cast it aside. When I finally force them past my hips and to the floor, they catch around my ankles in a way that feels obscene, and Gabriel’s sharp intake of breath confirms it. I kick them off in a hurry.

He studies me up and down as though he’s never seen me before. Every time he looks at my body, it’s like he’s just unwrapped a gift for the very first time. It turns the glow of shame on my skin into something else. How can I feel ashamed when he’s looking at me like that?

He lets out a long sigh and gets to his feet, then touches me gently as he examines my scratches. Each touch is self-assured, without hesitation. The heat of his fingers seeps into my skin as he moves me this way and that. He touches me like I’m his to care for, and there’s something oddly comforting in that.

Finally, he bends to pick up the clothes. “Stay there. None of these scratches are bad, but I’ll be back in a moment with some antiseptic spray. It’ll sting, but you’re not going to complain about it. Are you?”

He waits, and I know the words he wants to hear. I wage a small, internal war—something about speaking aloud is much harder than just letting him do what he wants—but finally manage, “No, Gabriel.”

Punishment. Don’t make things worse.

Gabriel exits the room, and I fidget, eyeing up the old-fashioned cabinet. It doesn’t look as though it belongs here, and there’s something warm and real about it. It’s something he cares about in this strange, impersonal space. Is it where he keeps his magic tricks? I’m almost certain it is.

He returns with a bottle, the clothes gone. “What did you do with the dress?”

A stupid question, probably, but it’s the only piece of clothing I’ve been granted. Seeing it disappear is a very visual reminder I’ve lost the tiny bit of freedom I’d gained.

“It’s ripped, so I threw it down the waste chute. I have plenty more clothes for you, but you’ll need to earn them.”

Prickling frustration coats my insides at the words, but again, there’s that other feeling, too. Naked, until he lets me have clothes. Exposed, until he decides I can be covered. My insides tighten, and I have to force myself to hold still. That thought, combined with the heat of his gaze, makes me want to squirm.

He holds up the bottle. “While I take care of this, let me tell you what I was going to do for your training session today. Before you decided to spoil things.”

The first spray hits a cut, and I squeak at the sudden sting.

“You’re going to become an expert in sucking my cock today.” He punctuates the crude words by spraying another cut, and I can’t tell if I yelp from the pain or the shock .

“We were going to play a game that would have led to lots of rewards for you. For every time you made me come, I was going to return the favor. Twice over.”

Another stinging spray, but this time, he sucks his finger as he does it, then slips the wet digit between my legs. I freeze up, not ready, chest tightening. His hand stills but doesn’t withdraw. “Shhhhhh, Eve. I’m just going to stay like this for a while.”

Gentle but firm. He waits, fingers unmoving but pressed up against my clit, as my breathing gradually calms. Once I meet his dark eyes again, he nods almost imperceptibly. A silent good girl. I can almost hear his voice in my head.

He resumes spraying my scratches but leaves his hand right where it is. The pressure on my clit becomes a temptation.

“Last one.” He sprays one more cut, then flings the bottle onto the sofa and returns his full attention to my face. His fingers still don’t move, and I’m lost in the intensity of his gaze.

“Today, though, you’re being punished, and I’m going to keep my word. I won’t hurt you.”

“You won’t?” I hate the quiet, meek way the question comes out but can’t seem to force any more strength into the words.

“No. But by the end, you’ll be so frustrated that you’ll be begging me to spank you.”

There’s danger in the words, a hot anticipation. This isn’t something he’s thought of on the spot. He’s been planning this, and he’s looking forward to it.

“Bad girls don’t get to come, Eve. Not until punishment time is over. And that’s hours away.”

At first, it’s an anticlimax. I’ve spent years dealing with frustration, too tied up in my own misplaced guilt to enjoy touching myself. But then, the memory of the previous night hits hard. Overwhelming, delicious pleasure. Unbearable tension and need leading up to the explosion .

His fingers move, giving my clit just a taste of friction, then stopping. Then another. Then another. My body wakes up, and moisture spills from me, turning his moving fingers slick. He notices, of course, and smiles.

“Your body knows what it’s been missing now. You’ve denied yourself for so long that you’re desperate.” He brings a hand to my breast, playing with my nipple as his fingers work my clit. Electric pleasure lights me up inside, all focused on that hot point at my core. That needy, aching spot that, all at once, is screaming for more.

He pulls his hand away. I can’t hold back a whimper as energy rages through my body, seeking release but with nowhere to go. Between my thighs, an angry pulse beats, demanding more friction.

His smile spreads. “This is going to be absolute torture for you. Let’s get you set up for the day. Kneel beside my desk.”

“What?” The word comes out harsher than I intend, fueled by my frustration. Gabriel’s sharp look has me drawing in a tight breath.

“I think you meant ‘Yes, Gabriel.’”

I murmur the words, resigned, and kneel at the spot he indicated. He sits on the chair, and the position is absolute subservience in the rawest way. A clothed man sitting at a desk to do important work while a naked woman kneels at his feet. The image lodges in my brain, a snapshot, as if taken from the outside. I’m horrified at it.

Horrified that I’m here. That I’m not fighting. And horrified because that pulse between my legs just got stronger.

What’s wrong with me?

Then he reaches under his desk, to a hidden shelf, and pulls out something that has me shuffling backward. “No. ”

The collar is attached to a long length of chain. It’s about three quarters of an inch wide, metal with some sort of padding inside, but the frightening thing is that it has a lock. An actual little padlock. If he puts that thing on me, there’s no escape.

His hand flashes out, and he grips my hair.

“No you don’t. This is your punishment spot. I’ll set you free for a couple of minutes if you need to use the bathroom, but otherwise, you’ll stay here. Four hours this time. And don’t worry. You won’t miss out on your lessons today. The only activity you’re allowed while being punished is sucking my cock.”

I try to pull away, but his grip on my hair is too strong. He easily holds me in place while he grabs the collar and pulls it open with one hand. It’s hinged and splits in two like the jaws of a trap. He holds it to my neck. “Keep still, Eve. I don’t want to pinch your skin, but it’s going on you. One way or another.”

Given the thing’s hinged design, I take his point. One wrong move, and it could snip me. I force myself not to struggle as he clips it, twists it to check the fit, then clicks the lock shut. For a small lock, it makes a big sound.

Not just naked, but chained. Chained at his feet while he works. He sits back, relaxing into his expensive-looking chair with an expression of pure satisfaction. “My God, Eve. You have no idea how many times I’ve pictured this moment.”

Some of the control has left his voice. It's softer, and there’s a touch of awe in it.

“You’ve pictured having me chained here?” Dumb repetition seems like all I can manage.

“Oh, yes. I went without sex for over a year waiting for you. I’ve spent the last three months watching you shower, imagining your lips around me. It was torture.” He sits up straight, as though remembering something. “And now I get to torture you right back. I just need one more thing. ”

He stands, leaving me to my captivity as he strides toward the bedroom. Over a year. The information is there, but I’m not sure what to do with it. Cole hadn’t been able to manage a few months. Gabriel lasted over a year? His self-control must be insane.

And he did watch me shower, just as I suspected. God, what else did he see?

I pull out the chain, testing the length. Just enough that I can rise fully up on my knees, but not enough to let me stand. Investigating under the desk, I find it’s fastened to a solid point on the wall. No escape.

Gabriel returns. He places something out of my eyeline, to the side of the desk. It lands with a clunk. Then he holds out a strange object. It’s black and about five inches long. Mostly thin but expanding to a thick bulb at one end. “Lie on your back now.”

“Why?”

He sighs but brandishes the object. “This is going inside you.”

A shot of adrenaline dumps into my blood. “What for?”

“No more questions. Do as I say, or your time here goes up to five hours. And trust me when I say I don’t care if it gets to five days. You can stay there forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

The hungry way he’s looking at me says he means it. I shuffle onto my back but ask quietly, “What if it hurts?”

“It won’t. I promise.” He spreads my legs apart, and I yelp as he leans in and kisses my inner thigh. “You’re doing well. I’m proud of you.”

A rush of confusing, messy feelings assaults me at his words, along with a weird, misplaced sense of pride. Doing well how? By letting him stick an object inside me ?

I can’t help watching him as he focuses all his attention on my most private area. His black hair falls over his eyes, and he pushes it back as he leans closer. His lashes are long. I hadn’t noticed that before. The concentration on his face as he squeezes some lube on the object and presses it against my entrance makes me think of a doctor performing an exam.

Except if a doctor looked that fascinated, he’d be banned from practicing.

The tip of the object presses against my entrance, and he eases it slowly in. It didn’t look large, but the most I’ve had inside me is a finger, and it feels large enough as it stretches me. Is that why he’s doing it? Because he’s going to put his cock in there soon and he wants to get me ready?

I twitch, and he stops. “Is this hurting you?”

Again, he seems to care. He cares if he’s hurting me, even when he has me chained to his desk. Even when he’s inserting something inside me entirely without my consent. Why? Is it just a man caring for property he hopes to enjoy for a long time to come?

The deep pulse inside me sparks again at that demeaning thought. It’s like I’m wired wrong. The wrong things are setting off that desire.

“No.”

“Good.”

The thing slips deeper inside me until he stops. My body clenches around the unfamiliar presence. “But what does it do?”

A wicked grin spreads across his face. “This is the torture device.”

He sits back and touches something in his pocket. I cry out as the thing inside me starts to vibrate. At first, the sensation is just weird, but then it turns into something else. My toes curl, and I try not to show my reaction as my body floods with heat.

Billie always kept trying to force me to buy a vibrator, but I shrugged the suggestions off. My God. Is this what I’ve been missing?

I go to press my knees together, but Gabriel’s hands trap my ankles. “No. Stay like this. I want to see how fast you start to drip.”

Jesus.

His filthy words only add to the growing need now tinged with frustration. The vibrations are amazing, but they’re not hitting quite the right spot. Either not deep enough or too deep somehow. Gabriel reaches out a finger and brushes just the edge of it over my clit, and it springs to life, demanding more.

There. That’s where I need the vibrations. I try to move my legs again. If I press them together, then maybe—

Gabriel blocks me. “I said stay still. I thought I might need this.”

He reaches to the side of the desk and pulls out a black bar with cuffs at either side. In no time, he’s fastened my ankles into them, keeping my legs spread wide. I can’t concentrate on the bar, or Gabriel, or anything except the vibrations driving me crazy.

He touches my clit again, the lightest brush, and I moan. I can’t help it. His smile is pure evil as he makes a show of pulling out his phone and checking the time. “Three minutes into your punishment. Only three hours and fifty-seven minutes to go. How do you feel? You’re absolutely soaked, by the way. Making a mess on our floor.”

Oh, God. Am I? The indignity of it cuts through the need briefly before it’s swallowed up. If I could only touch my clit. My hand moves without conscious direction. If only —

Gabriel wraps a hand around my wrist. “No you don’t. I’ll cuff you if I have to, but that will make today’s lessons much more difficult. Speaking of which…”

He moves quickly, helping me up from my back into a kneeling position once again. The object inside me shifts, but it’s lodged tight and doesn’t fall out. The new position doesn’t help the desperate need scorching a path through my body. Once I’m balanced, he seats himself back on his chair. His lips are parted, and I focus on the fullness of his bottom lip.

He unzips his fly, and I can only stare as his thick cock springs free. The solidity of it still shocks me.

He takes it in his fist, and his breathing hitches as he offers it to me. “Time to do some work.”