Chapter 15 – Amanda
I’m going to do it.
Pull the Band-Aid off! I poured the prosecco over the crushed fruit at the bottom of the flute. It would have been better if Steven arrived before popping the cork, but the longer I waited, the more my nerves got the better of me.
I’d done this before. I wasn’t some na?ve virgin, waiting for my wedding night.
There was a part of me that needed this aspect of the arrangement done. Steven promised he would have proposed by fall. I knew I would have said yes then, since I’d said it now.
But there would’ve been more steps before the walk down the aisle. Like getting to know one another better—and sex.
I sipped the sickly-sweet bubbles and tapped the toe of my stiletto against the carpet.
It took a bribe to gain access to the hotel room, then an hour to prep the space.
Steven had no idea what was waiting for him.
It could be a couple more hours, or thirty seconds before he walked through the door.
Candles, music, and booze set the stage. My costume was a black satin robe over a matching bustier and panty set that complemented the high heels. I was the actress, ready for my performance.
I hoped it was good.
I prayed we had chemistry.
Otherwise, it might be too late to back out of the wedding.
“But at least I’ll know,” I whispered.
And really? What was the worst thing that could happen? I would be responsible for my own orgasms for the rest of my life? Lots of women were.
I winced. Maybe I could train him. Admit how dark my fantasies could be? That was the best part about reading romance novels. They were literally a roadmap for couples to explore their wants, needs, and desires.
Plus, Steven already read some of the tamer books he knew I liked.
“So, it will be good,” I breathed.
Sitting on the coffee table, I dangled my heel in the air. The first day of trial went well. I was high on the feeling that this would be the showcase to set me up for the promotion. We had a strong case, and I’d been instrumental in finding a key precedent that gave us an edge.
The door to the hotel clicked. All thoughts of work snapped out of my head, and I leaned back, waiting for my body to thrum to life at the prospect of some good old-fashioned sex.
The anticipation didn’t come. The arousal didn’t flare hot. Nothing happened.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
Two figures pushed through the door. One was slumped over, arms dangling at his sides. Once they cleared the threshold, he was tossed like a sack of vegetables to the ground.
The other stood tall, claiming the room with one look as the door fell closed behind him.
His face was hidden behind a thin ski mask, which I couldn’t remember the proper name for right now, because I was too busy jumping to my feet with a stifled scream.
“What did you do?!” I pointed at my fiancé, who was face down and not moving.
The masked man tipped his head to the side, studying me from the narrow rectangle around his eyes. “Don’t you know better than to accept drinks from strangers at the bar?”
“Yes!” I wailed, scrubbing my hands through my hair.
“Apparently, he didn’t.” The masked man gave Steven a hard kick in the ribs.
I choked on a sob. What kind of mind-scrambling, psychological games did he have in store for me tonight? This was real. This was happening.
There were no sleeping pills, late nights, and copious amounts of alcohol to make me question reality. No vanished social media posts or deleted texts. I was positive that I wasn’t dreaming.
My fingers pinched the skin behind my neck…just to be sure.
The sting was undeniable.
The masked man—my very own stalker—was standing not ten feet away from me, and the energy that vibrated off him was a tangible threat.
“You don’t even look surprised,” he mused, voice soft. Seductive. Sinful. “Like some part of you knew I’d come.”
“Don’t hurt me!” I stumbled backward.
“If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it years ago. I only came to remind you.”
My insides clenched. “Of what?”
“That you can’t escape me.” He took a step forward. “That our time has finally come.” Another step. “That nothing can stop me.”
I raised the glass bottle, ignoring the liquid spilling over my hand and the floor. “I’ll fight you!”
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, Amanda, don’t you know it turns me on when you fight back?”
Damn him. I was not going to admit he was right. That this push and pull was downright intoxicating.
My traitorous body wasn’t aroused by the idea of sex with my fiancé. That was what the sweet wine and the romantic ambiance were supposed to help create. But one look from this masked fiend from hell and I was on fire.
I waved the bottle in the air as if I could protest the obvious. “You’re going to ruin everything!”
With speed too fast to track, he batted the wine bottle away. I shot back, but he caught me, dragging me against his body.
I struggled, but he pinned me tightly in his arms.
Bending close to my ear, he whispered, “Exactly.”
I yelled as loud as I could.
His hand clapped over my mouth. “Bite me, I dare you.”
That was exactly what I did.
It only made the bastard groan, as if he liked the pain tangled with the primal charge in the air. His other hand snaked up my spine and tugged my hair back.
I whimpered at the sting. It felt incredible.
Dragging his nose up my neck, he inhaled deeply. “That scent. It does things to me.”
My heart hammered in my throat. And between my legs? A second pulse thumped with a low, treacherous rhythm.
Twisting me around, my stalker forced me onto the couch. One knee drove into my upper back. I tried and failed to lift my head and scream.
“Who knew that fear was such a turn-on for you?” he chuckled as the sound of a zipper ripped in the air.
I struggled and wriggled.
But there was no escaping him.
This was it. The monster was going to—
Duct tape me?
There was no mistaking that sound. I turned my head to see that the zipper belonged to a backpack, not his pants. My wrists were caught and tugged together as the tape tore.
Maybe there would be biological matter on the tape. A fingerprint!
But as he pulled another piece free, hope deflated. He was using a knife, and he wore leather gloves.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” He slid his hand up my thigh. I jerked from his touch, but there was no escape.
He squeezed my ass. Slapped the flesh. “I will not hurt you, Amanda.”
I bit back a huff that would have come out as a moan.
Flipping the satin robe up, he made short work of cutting the lacy bootie-cut panties from my hips. I squeezed my eyes closed, knowing what he’d find.
They were drenched.
“Pity, I would rather keep these.” He sounded…reverent.
That unholy tone made my core clench tight.
I could lie to myself all I wanted. But the evidence was there. This man turned me on. He knew the depravities I craved.
And, apparently, he wanted to give them to me.
His fingers on my face had my eyes snapping open. I glared at him, ready to curse him to the depths of hell. But opening my mouth was a mistake. Forcing the panties in my mouth, he pressed the tape over my lips to seal them.
“There.” He stood and stared. “My very own present, wrapped up like it’s my birthday.”
I spewed garbled curses at him.
“You’re so pretty when you’re mad. I almost forgot how much I liked this side of you.” He stooped, picked me up, and carried me across the hotel suite.
I caught sight of my fiancé’s unconscious form right before the bedroom door closed. There was something undeniable about this. The dominant male unapologetically outplayed the other, and I was the prize.
Heat licked along my skin at the idea of being claimed by the winner. There was something unhinged in the desire pulsing through my veins. If this was about control, I had none.
That realization shouldn’t feel this liberating.
The masked man dumped me on the bed. I rolled over to glare at him, unintentionally trapping my bound hands behind me.
A beam of light from the bathroom, coupled with the candles, gave the room a heavily shadowed ambiance. He took his time, studying my face. His gaze memorized me. It dipped lower, snagging on the pulse at my throat—and damn me, I wanted the beast to bite.
I was unable to tell if they were the deepest of browns or the lightest of blacks. Either way, hunger swirled in the inky depths.
There was something predatory about him. It wasn’t about capturing and claiming me, though that was no doubt part of this game. There was a deeper strain, one that I would call longing if I didn’t know any better.
I fidgeted under the weight of it. An intimacy hummed under the surface. There was no shaking off the tickling sense of familiarity.
He didn’t miss the way my nipples strained under the robe and lace bustier underneath. Stepping forward, he grazed his thumb over the peak. It was a featherlight touch, a stark contrast to the violence dancing through his dark eyes.
“Done fighting, hmm?” he mused.
I huffed. No!
“Do you want me to take you home or….” He skimmed his thumb across my nipple again. “The plan was to take you out of here so that he couldn’t touch you. But we could…stay.”
I fumed around the gag, not even sure what I was saying.
“I’m going to need you to agree to this.” His thumb stroked back and forth.
Would it be so bad? Tied up, I still had the choice. He was offering it to me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The pressure of his thumb grew firmer. It sent tingles of pleasure zipping through my veins.
I want this.
The realization shocked me. It was a dark fantasy, something I secretly craved, but would never ask for. Somehow, he knew.
Opening my eyes, I stared into his—and nodded.
“You want me to fuck your pussy with my tongue?”
The filthy offer sent a rush of liquid heat between my legs. I nodded again.
A smirk sounded in his voice. “Pity I had to tape that pretty mouth. You’d sound sweet begging me for it.”