Wicked Stalker (Captives of the Onyx Brotherhood #1)

Twenty-Eight

Eve

A proposition. The words land heavy in my ears, full of danger and possibility. A spark of excitement ignites deep in my stomach. In that one sentence, I hear the chance to snatch back a little control of my life. To make a decision.

“What do you have in mind?”

Melanie lets out a breath. “I knew I’d be able to talk to you. You’re different from the others, not brainwashed yet. Thank God.”

It sounds genuine enough, but there’s a tickle at the back of my mind. Is she blowing smoke up my ass to get me on her side? And if so, what does she want? I don’t respond to her flattery, and eventually, she continues.

“Aldo—that’s my Patron—told me about your Gabriel’s dad. The funeral is tomorrow. Is that right?”

I frown but nod.

“So he’s leaving the Compound, and you’ll be free all day?”

“Sort of. I have work in the morning, nine till one.”

She blinks at me, surprised, “Work?”

“Yes, I’m helping Jacob in his lab. He’s a biochemist, and it’s my specialty. ”

“Huh. Lucky.” There’s bitterness to her words. “Aldo just wants me to play house for him. Be a perfect fucking housewife. I don’t think he remembers I’ve got a brain.”

It’s a bleak snapshot of her life. “That’s awful.”

“Yes. But that’s not the point. The point is…” She lowers her voice even further, so I can hardly hear it. “Normal cell phones don’t work here. There’s signal jamming in place. Only the Brothers have special phones that can get through, locked to their biometrics. No one else can use them. I stole a phone from a contractor a couple of months ago, but it’s been useless.”

“Okay.” Some of my suspicion melts, and wary excitement creeps in at the direction this is going. A cell phone could mean freedom. A way to contact Billie.

“But the other day, I overheard some of the cleaners bitching about not being able to use their phones. And one of them said there’s a glitch. A spot where they work!”

“Really?” My heart speeds up as I lean closer.

“Yes! Problem is it’s in a bad spot. Down an alley right next to the main labs. Anyone could walk along that way and catch me, and if I got caught…” She swallows, shaking her head. “It’d be bad. Really bad.”

A hot flush rises in my cheeks at the fear in her voice. Fear of punishment from her Patron. I grew up feeling like that every darn day.

“What do you need?” The words shoot out before I can consider them.

“Just keep watch. If someone comes, delay them. If I can get a message out of here.” She shakes her head. “Imagine.”

I do. The Brotherhood have enormous power. They must pay off or threaten all sorts of high-up people to keep their existence a secret. I don’t think one message would bring the whole place to an end—more likely, it’ll get nowhere. But if Melanie can get a message out, so can I. I can let Billie know I’m alive. And that’s worth taking a risk for.

“I want to use the phone too. We’ll swap.”

“Okay. Of course.” She smiles, and it’s filled with delight. “Thank you. I had a feeling about you. This will work. I know it.”

In any case, it’s worth a try.

Once I say goodbye to Melanie, I head to my first day of work with Jacob. There's an assistant this morning, a nervous man called Bryson, who eyes me like I’m going to bite. He doesn’t have the feel of a Brother, and when I ask Jacob, he confirms my suspicion. I know I should focus on the work and not ask dangerous questions, but I can’t help myself.

“Don’t you worry that one of these outsiders will crack and tell the world about you all? How do you know they’ll keep their mouths shut?”

Jacob shrugs. “How do you think drug cartel houses get their toilets cleaned or their taxes done? They pay a lot of money in return for silence and threaten death to anyone that fucks up. It’s simple but effective. Bryson is on around four times the salary he’d get anywhere else.”

“Do they know about Wards? That we’re prisoners?” I’m still tripping over this detail, despite the evidence of my own eyes. How can there be dozens of captive women in a Compound and no-one seems to care?

Jacob rocks his hand from side to side. “Not explicitly. But they’re all told not to speak to the women without express permission from a Brother, and the penalties are severe. That’s why he looks like he’s going to shit himself every time you look at him.”

I snort at that but let the topic drop and get back to work. People probably suspect, or even know, the truth, but no one cares as long as they’re paid well enough. It’s a sad realization, and even as I work through a fascinating problem, it gnaws at me. I don’t think, until right now, I’d quite believed this could be forever. I’d imagined someone, somehow, would fix this for me.

But they won’t.

Tomorrow’s experiment with the phone might really be my only chance to communicate with the outside world, to let someone know I’m not dead. I haven’t been able to bring myself to ask Gabriel for details on that, on whether whatever fake accident they planned has happened yet. It’s too brutal a thing to contemplate and still function, so I push it aside and focus on what comes next.

At one exactly, Jacob gives me a high five and sends me on my way. “Great work today. You’ll be an asset to the team. See you tomorrow.”

I smile and try not to feel too proud of myself.

I make it back to the apartment, and my thumb opens the door, a new feature Gabriel enabled yesterday. I only have access to the door locks when he wants me to. I still can’t leave the bedroom at night, but it’s another small win. A little bit of freedom.

He’s working on his computer when I enter, lines of unintelligible figures scrolling up the screens. He raises a hand but doesn’t turn immediately, lips moving as he talks to himself. I study him in the flat glow from the monitor.

His skin, always pale, looks even whiter than usual, and deep circles ring his eyes. He’s not slept properly since he lost his dad, aside from the first night, where he lay like a stone for twelve straight hours. I’ve mentioned the funeral to him a couple of times, but he just changed the subject, and I didn’t push it .

I sit on the sofa until he types a few numbers, swipes at the keyboard with a decisive flourish, and turns to me with a frown. “Why are you still dressed?”

I look down at myself, realizing I’ve forgotten all about his rules on clothing. Today, working in the lab, I felt normal again for a while, like a woman who could relax on her sofa, wearing whatever the heck she wanted.

I can’t, of course. Gabriel picked this sensible outfit for me, just as he picks all the others. I grip the hem of the soft T-shirt protectively. “Do you really need me naked all the time? How long are you planning on keeping that rule?”

He slides his chair over to me. It’s high and angled so he looms over me. His gaze sweeps down me in that heated way he has. The one that makes my skin glow and my mouth go dry.

“Why would I let you hide yourself away? I’d have to be the stupidest man on Earth to have someone as beautiful as you at my mercy and let you wear clothes.”

It’s such a ridiculous, dramatic thing to say that it ought to make me laugh, but he doesn’t say it with any humor. He just settles back in his chair to watch, relaxed, confident I’ll do what he says.

I want to argue just for the sake of it, but I daren’t risk it. My freedom tomorrow is a tenuous thing as it is. He could easily decide to confine me to the apartment for the day if I seem like I might make trouble.

And besides, that glow on my skin has settled lower, morphing into the desire I’m starting to feel comfortable with. Even though his calm expectation is infuriating, it’s hitting something else, too.

I want him to see me.

I want that calm expression to turn feral, as I know it will as soon as he sees my skin. It’s a strange sort of power, even though he’s in control. Just the sight of me is enough to change him, and there’s a part of me that loves it.

I swallow and pull the T-shirt over my head. He pushes his chair back, lips parting. “Stand up. Do it slow for me, Eve. Put on a show.”

His hand slips to the growing bulge in his jeans, and a blast of self-consciousness hits me as he strokes himself through the fabric. My God. He’s changing me. But into what?

His brows dip. “I wasn’t asking. On your feet.”

The low tone that means business. As I get to my feet, he adds quietly, “Eyes on me. Don’t let yourself think.”

Easier said than done, but I focus on him as instructed. The first time I saw him, he was so different from the clean-cut boys I’d always thought I wanted that I only noticed his good looks in an abstract way. Now, though, every angle of his face calls to me. Since he made me his, I’ve grown addicted to his dark beauty. Every time I see him, it strikes me deeper.

Looking at him helps clear away the shyness.

I reach behind myself, slowly as instructed, unhook the bra, and let it drop. Pink tinges his pale cheeks, and he sits forward, eyes sharp. “Good. Now the rest.”

It’s easier now. I watch him, watch every slight movement as I unbutton my jeans. His breath speeds up, and one finger taps impatiently on his knee. I’m doing this to him. And I’m not even touching him. I step out of my jeans and stand there in just my panties. Sensible white cotton, not the lacy types I’d have expected him to buy.

He’s watching me like a starving man would eye prime rib. An urge hits me, and before I can question it, I force past the blush that flames in my cheeks and slide my hands up my own body, over my hips and the curve of my stomach. It’s awkward, rather than smooth and graceful as it was in my head. I’m too nervous, my fingers shake, and when I reach my breasts, I freeze.

“Go on. That’s perfect, Eve. God, you’re incredible. I want to watch you.” His voice is a strained growl, and it urges me on. I banish the images in my head, stop picturing how ridiculous I must look, and focus on him. I’m not ridiculous to him.

I slide my hands over the soft curve of my breasts, and he groans. The sound of a zipper draws my eyes down as he pulls his cock free. He doesn’t work it, though, just holds it as he watches me.

I let my fingers explore, mimicking the movements he makes when he touches me. I circle my nipples, then pinch them as they harden beneath my fingers. My own skin becomes intoxicating. I’ve never explored my body like this, always held back by guilt. There’s a release to it, and I let myself play as hot need builds between my thighs.

I’m getting wet, and as if he’s read my thoughts, Gabriel whispers, “Holy fuck. You’re soaking your panties. Feel how wet you are. Do it now. Don’t take them off, though. Touch yourself through them.”

I’m in the grip of wild need, and I obey with only a moment’s hesitation. My fingers find the top of my panties and slide lower, finding a wet spot just as he said. Even the light pass of my fingers is enough to tease my clit, and I gasp, still shocked by the electric jolt of pleasure.

My own breaths become ragged as I explore myself through the fabric. Why did he make me keep them on? They’re a barrier now, separating me from what I want. I grind against my hand through the frustrating fabric, unable to get the contact I need.

Each pass of my hand bunches the cotton further up inside me. It’s drenched—I’m drenched—and I’m lost to the motion until Gabriel pulls my hand away. I’d closed my eyes without meaning to.

His eyes are black, and heat radiates from him as his fingers dig into my wrist.

“We’re going to bed, and I’m fucking you. Right now.”

No question, just absolute certainty. The words hit me hard in every place, a tight twist in my chest, but a hot, thrumming pulse of desire between my legs. In my pussy, for God’s sake. I’m a grown woman. I can call it what it is.

My eyes are drawn magnetically to Gabriel’s cock, which seems to have grown and thickened to frightening proportions in the last five seconds. All in my head, of course. But how on earth will it ever fit? His two fingers together give me plenty of friction.

He follows my gaze and takes a deep breath, then another. “I’ll go slow. Come.”

He stands and leads me toward the bedroom. It’s happening. He’s taking my virginity, the oh-so-special precious thing I was taught to value above all else, the thing that was supposed to make me pure, worthy, and good.

Fuck my virginity. I want it gone.

It’s a blast of freezing cold water, clearing my head for maybe the first time in my damn life. I don’t need it. I don’t want it anymore. And as fucked-up and wrong as it is, the person I want to give it to is the man currently dragging me into his bedroom.

The bed is messy, sheets still scrunched up from the morning, and Gabriel lets go of my hand long enough to sweep them onto the floor. He glances from me to the bed, and his voice is husky when he speaks.

“I’ve imagined this moment since I first saw you. Always the same. Lie on your back, head at the top of the bed. ”

I do, and he works fast, fetching cuffs from a drawer. He clips my wrists into place, spread wide to the corners near my head, then stands back to look at me. He’s calmer now, assessing.

“Good,” he mutters.

“Why the cuffs?” I tug on them, though I know they won’t move.

“Because I want to savor this. And you need those hands under control.”

He sits beside me on the bed. The vulnerability of my position hits home, and I press my thighs together as desire pools at the thought. Everything is in his hands now. He can touch me where he wants, and I can’t touch myself at all.

My pussy clenches, needing friction, and I shift on the bed. He notices, spreads my thighs, and studies the white fabric. The wicked smile that signals danger touches his lips as he rubs me through them, and I moan.

“Shall I take these off?”

“God. Yes.” I don’t even hesitate. I want his fingers there.

His smile widens. “I love the enthusiasm.” Another tortuous pass of his fingers. “Not yet, though. Let’s see how wet we can get them first.”

I groan as he gets to work.

Very wet is the answer.

For the next twenty painful minutes, Gabriel explores me top to bottom with his tongue while his fingers rub me endlessly through the panties. He kisses me, the minty taste of his lips sweet against mine as his tongue explores my mouth, and tentatively, I kiss him back. He laughs as I moan against his lips and press myself into his hand.

“Not yet.”

I could die from frustration as he moves to my breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth and teasing them as if he’s got all day. As if I’m not writhing underneath him. When he moves lower, running his tongue over my inner thighs, all dignity leaves me, and I beg. “Please, Gabriel.”

He looks up, locking eyes with me, though his hand never stops its agonizing back and forth on my panties. “Please, what?”

I don’t answer, and he shrugs, dropping his head to my thigh again. In a muffled voice, he says, “I’ll never get bored of this. I can do it all day long.”

He’s not lying. “Please…” I stumble over the words, unable to quite believe I’m saying them. “Please fuck me, Gabriel. Now.”

His head shoots up, pure shock etched into every line of his face. He didn’t believe I’d actually do it. He rips his T-shirt over his head and drops it, eyes burning. “If you insist.”

He’s trying for nonchalance, but there’s a tremor to his voice. I study the tattoos covering his skin, geometric black lines in patterns. Fractals, I realize. They suit him.

He strips his jeans and boxers off, then turns his attention to my panties, stripping them off carefully and making a great show of examining them. He brings them to his nose and inhales, a move that has me clenching even as my cheeks flush. “Delicious.”

He sets them to the side and climbs on top of me. I bend my legs and spread them to accommodate him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it is, I suppose. I just denied it to myself until I met Gabriel.

He cups my face and bends to kiss me one more time, lips rough and urgent, then pulls back as he positions himself against my entrance. He coats his cock in the evidence of my desire before pressing the tip into me. I’m so ready for him that it doesn’t hurt at first, but then, as he presses further inside, the stretch grows .

He feels huge, like it’s never going to happen. What if I’m built wrong and can’t fit him in? But he’s insistent, edging deeper and deeper with each thrust. “That’s it, Eve. Relax. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

I manage a breathy “Yes,” lost in the spell of sensation.

“Then you’re going to relax, open up, and take my cock.”

His words unleash another flood of desire, and he takes advantage, seating himself all the way inside me. He pauses, tension on his face, struggling to hold back. “There. Good. Now—” He slips his hand between where our bodies join, finding my clit. “—good girls get rewards.”

He moves inside me again, the stretch painful but in a way I’m starting to enjoy. It’s a deep ache, close to pleasure. As he moves, his finger moves too, giving me the friction on my clit I’ve been desperate for. It’s overwhelming, like I’m being split in two and burned up by pleasure all at once, but amazing. No wonder people talk about this so much.

He speeds up, and I lose myself to it. I tug on my bonds and spread my legs wider, letting him go as deep as he can. He’s pounding me hard now, rhythmic, bruising thrusts driving my breath from me in little, gasping moans.

“Eve. Fuck. Eve.” Gabriel sounds as lost as me, desperate and wild. My pleasure builds to the tipping point, then blasts through it, and I cry out, hands clenching as I fall into a savage orgasm, made different by his unrelenting cock smashing into me. I clench on him, and he groans, a yell full of rough need.

He drives into me one last time, so deep it feels like he’s hitting my internal organs. He holds there, body shuddering, face tight with concentration as he shoots into me. Eventually, the tension leaves him, and he collapses on top of me, the weight almost comforting .

I’m sweaty, and my wrists are starting to hurt from the bonds and my insides feel as though they’ve been beaten up. But I can’t deny the warmth in my chest or the loose contentment in my limbs.

I’m happy.