Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
F iona
The chest is empty. I’d used all the blankets and bedding inside for the ladder.
A deep voice slowly drags my gaze away from the empty chest. He’s standing in the center of the room, arms across his massive chest. His earlier shirt is still on, but the sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows.
No.
It’s not possible. The bedroom door was locked and is still closed, as are the balcony ones.
“Looking for something?” he asks.
“Where did you come from? How did you get in here?”
“I’ll never tell.” Ignoring my questions, he crosses the room to me in three long strides, his strong hand tangling into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Now, you tell me something.”
“What?” The tension crackles in the air between us, thick and suffocating.
Straight white teeth flash in his open grin. “Have you settled on a date for our wedding?” His grip on my hair tightens, pulling me closer to him until our faces are only inches apart.
I can feel the heat radiating off his body and sense the raw power he holds over me. But defiance burns hot in my veins, a fierce determination to resist his dominance. “Let me go. I’m never going to marry you.”
"You think you have a choice in this, love?" His voice is low and dangerous, a warning laced with desire. I can see the hunger in his eyes, the need to conquer and possess. And yet, there are glimmers of something else there, too. Desire. Longing.
Telling me I, too, have power at this moment—a power I don’t yet know how to harness.
In one swift motion, he releases my hair and steps back, his expression hardening again. Without a word, he reaches for a leather whip hanging on the wall, its long strands coiled like sleeping serpents.
A black leather cat-o’-nine-tails. I’m so confused; I would have noticed a sexy toy on the wall of my soft, feminine, pretty room, all pink paint and pastel fabrics. Though the way he’s holding it, it looks much more like a terrifying tool for punishment.
“That wasn’t there,” I stammer, staring at the whip in shock.
“But it’s here now.”
“When did that get there?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
A smirk plays on his lips as he stops in front of me. "A gift from a previous guest," he replies, running a finger along one of the leather strands.
My mind races.
Who was in this room before me? How many women has he had like this? And did those women experience the same fear and arousal I’m feeling now? To my shock, there’s another emotion there, a hint of jealousy creeping in. The thought of him doing intimate things with other women leaves me a bit off-kilter.
I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the heat of this moment and the intimidating man before me.
He moves closer. I want to step away from him, but the chest and the bed are behind me. I’m pinned between him and the furniture. He trails the whip down my arm. The leather ends drag softly and slowly over my skin, leaving chill bumps on my flesh and my heart racing.
"Do you know what this is for?"
I shake my head, not wanting to speak for fear that my voice will break and I’ll reveal my nervousness.
"It's for discipline," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "For when you disobey me. "
My heart races even faster at his words, realizing I am truly under his control now. And yet, despite my fear, there is also an undeniable thrill coursing through me.
He suddenly pulls away and walks over to the bed, turning back to face me with a devious smile. "Get undressed."
“No. No way.”
One thick brow rises to the sky. “Now.”
Slowly, I pull down the leggings, stepping out of them. I remove the slouchy sweatshirt, momentarily blinded as I pull it over my face. In my haste to escape, I’d put on nothing underneath.
My cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, and my hands cover my most intimate parts as he stares at me with a predatory gaze. I've never felt so exposed and vulnerable, but at the same time, something inside of me is awakening.
“Dinnae hide from me what belongs to me.”
His words make me angry enough to hiss, “I don’t belong to you.”
His sexy, tattooed fingers trail down my body with a featherlight touch. He repeats, “Dinnae hide what is mine.”
He pulls my hands away, leaving me naked, bared to him, vulnerable. I tremble under his gaze, feeling every inch of my skin tingle with anticipation.
“Yer so fucking beautiful.” He gives me that grin, the one with a touch of the devil in it, the one that makes me feel a heavy ache in my womb.
“I’m not,” I whisper .
“Ye are.” His eyes are hungry, and they devour every inch of my naked body. “Every wee bit of you.”
The look momentarily fogs my addled brain. I’m lost in his good looks, that deep, commanding voice, and those gorgeous green eyes. Eyes that are begging for me, needing something from me, from my body—eyes that leave me wondering what it would feel like to have him deep inside me instead of focusing on my own desperate need…
To escape.
"You are beautiful," he murmurs, cupping my face. "And you belong to me now. I’ll try to be patient, but I’ll only wait so long till I drag you down the aisle and make you my wife.”
“Drag me you’ll have to do.” It’s a weak protest at best.
But what sort of woman would I be if I dinnae protest at all?
My heart thuds in my chest at his closeness, his heat, and the brush of his rough fingers—fear and desire warring within me. Part of me still wants to run away, to escape this seemingly dangerous situation. But another part of me craves the unknown, the thrill of being with a man.
With him, who is so commanding. Dominating. Sexy.
He leads me to the bed and gently pushes me down onto it, climbing on top of me and pinning my arms above my head. The full breadth of his chest overwhelms me as he hovers over me. His size, his strength, his will…
He stares down with that look; the look that makes my belly flip and my tongue go numb. He holds secrets in those eyes, things he could do to me, that he wants to do to me, that, when he gets his way, he most certainly will do to me .
“Tell me, Fiona.” He parts that rugged mouth of his, that devilish grin tugging at the corners of it as always, thick with confidence and control as if it’s never occurred to him that I might not want him pinning me to this bed, his mouth a butterfly’s wing beat away from mine. Dipping strong fingers to ease the ache between my thighs, he demands, “How long will ye make me wait?”
My answer is to let my head loll to the side, my lips parting, my eyes closing, and lose myself in his touch. A deep chuckle, then the brush of his beard against my naked skin as he plants a trail of hot kisses along the side of my neck.
He’s fully dressed and almost twice my size and weight. I lay there, helpless, not wanting to cave to his touch. My hips betray me, swaying with the abandon of a much more experienced woman. The things he does to me with those fingers make me lose control.
“Please,” I beg. That warm, wet wanting deepens as pleasure mounts; his rough fingers circle my clit, and I gasp.
“Please, what, love? Tell me what you want.”
His arousal presses against me as he grinds his hips into mine. The heat between us is almost suffocating as I struggle to catch my breath.
"Do you want me?" he growls into my ear, nipping at the lobe.
“No,” I lie desperately, unable to find more words to express my emotions.
His lips crash down on mine in a bruising kiss before trailing lower down my body. He pays attention to every curve and dip, ensuring he doesn’t miss an inch of skin. His beard claims me as well, brushing over my skin .
When his hot breath and lashing tongue reach between my bare legs, I can feel myself growing slick with need. His fingers tease at first before delving deeper inside of me, causing moans to escape from deep within my throat.
But he’s not yet kissed me there.
He hovers, teasing, kissing, and nipping at every inch of flesh that isn’t where I need him, all while moving his fingers inside me.
“Callum…”
He murmurs along the inside of my thigh. “Yes, wife?”
“I’m not your wife!” I gasp. My hands finally come to life, reaching down and tangling in his thick hair. “No. Don’t.”
He can’t go there. He can’t do this. It’s so shameful that I’m letting him do these things. Here I’ve sworn to myself my husband would be the only one to see me so bare, to touch me in these secret places, yet Callum Burnes has my naked body pinned to this bed, his fingers inside me and his mouth about to?—
“No, don’t,” I say, pushing him away with feeble hands.
“Wits fur ye will no go by ye.” With a dark laugh, he grabs the tops of my thighs in each of his massive hands, parting my legs, and buries his face in me.
An old saying that means “if it's meant to be, it’ll happen.” And he’s got no right to say such things when he’s a man who’s clearly taken destiny into his own hands with me.
“You don’t believe it—” But then his hot tongue lashes my clit. “Oh…Lord love us! ”
I am lost in sensation when suddenly he stops and pulls away from me completely. Bolting up, I stare down at him.
Of course, he’s got that wicked glint in his naughty eyes. The cocky smile on his handsome face. His thick hair is tangled from my fingers. The man is a vision. My frustration mounts, resulting in me collapsing back down on the bed. “Callum Burnes, ye are the most arrogant man in Scotland.”
He crawls over me with his heat and muscle and wicked kisses, saying, “Patience.”
His movements have profound beauty, such a large, muscular body filled with grace and control. I watch him rise from the bed, and a voice from deep inside my womb says, Take him, Fiona. Have him. Make him yours and keep him.
I wouldn’t think I’d be so tempted by the pleasures of the flesh to make a deal with the devil.
But no one told me the devil would be so handsome.
He smirks at the sight of me, lying there flushed and bothered. Crooking a finger at me, he gestures for me to come closer. I don’t want to move from where I lie, but I do. I tremble as I roll off the bed and walk to meet him at the side of it.
"Kneel," he commands.
I do as I'm told; I'm unsure of what will happen but too afraid to question it. He takes a few steps back so that he is standing behind me and then reaches forward with one hand to spread my legs apart. He takes my hands, bringing them up behind my head .
I clasp them in place, unaware of what to expect, yet wanting this.
"Good girl," he whispers into my ear before leaving me.
Naked. Kneeling. Obedient.
“Never. Ever. Disobey me.”
I feel a sharp sting on my thigh and cry out in surprise as the leather whip connects with my skin. He continues to strike me, each blow causing a mix of fire and light. Pain and pleasure. Fear and feeling. He flicks the whip through the air, touching my skin just enough to leave a stinging trail.
I gasp, biting back a cry of pain as he continues, each strike more intense than the last.
My breath comes in shallow bursts as the whip continues to fall, each strike leaving a mark on my skin. With every blow, I feel a fire burning within me, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves me both weak and strong at the same time.
As he continues to flog me, I can feel my body responding to his dominance, my desires and fears mixed in a way I never thought possible. I want him to take me, to claim me as his own, but I'm also terrified of the power he holds over me.
Finally, he stops, the whip hanging limp in his hand. I collapse to the ground, my skin alight. Stripes flare across my ass. My core pulses. My pussy is hot and bothered, throbbing for his touch.
He kneels on the floor beside me, his significant, strong presence welcome and unwanted all at once. His breath is hot, his lips soft as he tortures my ear with his words. “Beg me to touch you.”
I should say no. Should fight. Should leave this room.
But I know that for this moment, I’ve lost.
“P—please. Please?—”
He moves closer, his strong arm circling my bare waist. “Say my name, Fiona. I want to hear my name on your tongue.”
“Callum. Please.” My fingers wrap around his forearm. His skin is warm, and the hair is soft, but all muscle and control beneath.
“There’s my love, there’s my good girl.” He drags me back up to a kneeling position.
Clutching at the bedcovers in my hands, I grip at them, something to anchor me as he moves behind me, leaving me on my knees but further parting my legs with his hands. He comes in from behind, the thick hair of his beard everywhere at once, brushing over my skin. His hot wet mouth covers my pussy, licking and kissing as I cry out.
My back arches as his fingertips dip into my soft flesh, keeping my ass parted as he pleasures me from behind. The orgasm comes from the depths of the sea, hard and fast and rushing like waves crashing in a storm.
Chaos.
I bury my face in the soft covers. I scream his name. I surrender.
The beast has won.
For now.