Chapter 3
SUMMER
He unlocks the door thirty minutes later.
I'm standing by the window in the red dress, hair still dripping from the shower, no underwear, no bra, exactly like he ordered.
The silk clings to my damp skin, and I can feel the air on every part of me that should be covered. I don't look at him when he enters.
"Good girl." He says it like he's praising a dog.
I roll my eyes and turn around to look at him. He is still in the same clothes, that’s gross, and my lip curls.
“What?” he questions me.
“Nothing,” I say.
“It wasn’t nothing. I watched your lip curl, and I want to know why,” he pushes.
“Fine, I thought it was gross that you haven’t showered yet.”
He seems surprised by that answer. “I’m glad my cleanliness is a concern for you, wife.”
“I don’t want to sit across from you smelling like an animal.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose like I am exhausting him. Good, I hope I am. I am going to make his life hell, just like he is doing to me.
"Dinner is downstairs," he states. Good, because I am hungry.
He waves his hand toward the door, and I walk past him without saying a word.
We walk down the corridor that smells like him, through the villa, to the open-plan dining area.
The table, which is long enough for ten, is set for two at one end With white linen, candles, and crystal glasses.
The pool glows turquoise through the glass beyond it.
It looks romantic, and that thought makes me want to hurl.
He reaches my chair first and pulls it out for me.
My eyes narrow on him. Why is he being a gentleman now?
“Wife.” He smirks.
My brows pull together, but I ignore the niggling feeling in my stomach as I go to take a seat and gasp. There's an object attached to the seat, it’s black silicone, thick, unmistakable, fixed to the center of the chair, staring at me. What the hell?
"Take a seat, Summer." Kairo grins.
“No.”
His brows rise. “No?”
“You think I am going to sit on that?” I say, pointing at the dildo.
"Sit down." he says again, those amber eyes darkening.
"No," I argue back.
"You can sit on your own, or I can put you on it myself. Either way, you're sitting in that chair tonight." He hisses at me.
Has he lost his mind? That thing is huge. The red dress barely covers my thighs, and there is nothing between me and that thing but air. He planned this while I was in the shower.
"You're disgusting." I seethe.
"Probably." His fingers tap on the wooden chair. "Sit."
I close my eyes. You can do this, whatever sick game he is playing, you can do this.
My jaw is so tight my teeth ache as I try to work out how the hell I’m going to sit on this thing.
I move slowly and try to position myself the best I can before I lower myself.
Every second is humiliating. I reach out and grab the dick and hold it in place.
The silicone is cool against me for a second as the thick head presses against my entrance.
I don’t know how it’s going to fit, I’m not wet enough.
“Do you need my help?” Kairo’s warm breath tickles across my skin as he whispers into my ear.
“No!” I cry out which earns me a dark chuckle.
I bob up and down on the tip a couple of times, trying to lube myself up enough that I can continue sliding down on this thing.
Slowly, I try to relax and let the thing in.
I feel the pressure as it pushes inside, slow, stretching, filling.
I grip the edge of the table with both hands, and my breath comes out in a shattered gasp.
It's big. Too big. I sink the rest of the way down, and my thighs are trembling against the seat by the time I'm fully seated.
“Good girl,” he whispers again, and all I can think about is stabbing him with the fork in front of me.
When I'm settled, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two metal bracelets, thin and elegant. The diamonds sparkle under the light, and before I realize what he is doing, he’s looping one of the bracelets through the chair and over my wrist. It’s not until it clicks that I understand.
"What are you doing?" I squeal as panic surges inside me again. He doesn't answer and goes to do the same thing on the other side. “No,” I say, grabbing my hand from him.
“Give it to me,” he says, grabbing my wrist. I try to fight him, but with a fucking dildo stuck up my vagina, pushing into me, hitting spots it shouldn’t be hitting, I can’t fight him well enough.
I still and give up easily, he’s won this round.
“You’re learning.” He chuckles as he locks the other wrist.
“How am I supposed to eat dinner?” I moan.
“You will, just wait and see.” He straightens and looks down at me. "I'm going to shower, and you're going to sit here and think about what happens when you run from me."
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I don’t want to gross you out with my uncleanliness.” He smirks as he starts to walk away.
“You can’t leave me here.”
“Yes, I can,” he calls out, not even bothering to turn around as he leaves the room.
“Fuck!” I curse as I pull at the restraints.
This is insane. He’s insane. You might be insane, too, because you can feel how wet you are getting with the dildo stuck inside you.
The villa is silent as I watch the candles flicker.
The pool light ripples through the glass, throwing blue patterns across the ceiling.
I'm sitting at a dinner table for two in a red silk dress with no underwear, impaled on a dildo, cuffed to a chair, and there is no one who will help me.
I shift my hips and the pressure changes inside me, and I bite back a sound I refuse to make.
Every small movement reminds me it's there and I can feel my pulse between my legs, slow and heavy, my body adjusting to the stretch.
I count the minutes by the candle wax melting down the holders.
The wax pools, drips, and hardens on the white linen.
I don't know how long he's gone, ten minutes, twenty maybe, but long enough for the sweat to cool on my skin, and for my breathing to even out.
Long enough for the fullness inside me to go from sharp to dull to more, and I'm trying very hard not to think about it.
When his footsteps come back down the stairs, I straighten in the chair, and the movement shifts the dildo.
I clench my jaw hard enough that I have probably cracked a tooth.
He appears freshly showered, hair pushed back, and his white shirt now fully buttoned.
He smells like soap and cedar, as he takes a seat at the head of the table like this is a normal dinner.
“You’re very quiet, wife.”
“Fuck you.”
This makes him grin as he rings a bell beside his plate.
The staff appear instantly, surprising me, two of them, a man and a woman, carrying plates and a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.
They set the food down, steak and greens, and they pop the champagne with a soft, practiced sound.
They pour two glasses, and strangely, they don't look at me, not once, not at my cuffed wrists, not at the flush on my chest, not at the way I'm sitting perfectly still because any movement is dangerous.
They set the bottle beside the table and disappear.
Kairo lifts his glass. "To us."
"Uncuff me," I say through gritted teeth.
“Are you going to behave?”
“You have a fucking dick stuck up me, of course I’m going to fucking behave,” I yell at him, which makes him laugh.
He stands and walks over to me, crouching beside the chair. His fingers are gentle on the bracelets as he unclips the left wrist, then the right. He rubs his thumb over the red marks the metal left behind, and then he leans in and presses his lips to the top of my head.
"I'm so proud of you," he murmurs against my hair.
I want to headbutt him, but I’ll probably orgasm, and that would be mortifying.
He walks back to his seat and sits down, picks up his knife and fork, and cuts into the steak like this is any other night.
I grab the champagne glass and throw the whole thing back in one go.
The bubbles burn down my throat and hit my empty stomach like a fist. I pour myself another one from the bottle.
"Slow down," he warns.
"Don't tell me what to do."
"I just uncuffed you. I can put them back on."
I take a smaller sip this time and pick up my fork.
The steak is perfect, pink in the center, and delicious.
I haven't eaten since breakfast, maybe I would have had more than toast if I had known today was my wedding day.
My body wins over my pride, and I eat. Every time I swallow, I shift my weight, and the dildo reminds me it's there.
I keep my movements small, controlled, and I focus on the food because if I think about what I'm sitting on, I'll lose it.
Kairo eats in silence for a while, watching me across the candlelight. The champagne is starting to soften the edges of everything, the heat, the humiliation, the ache between my legs. I hate that it's helping.
"Your father," he says, setting his knife down.
My fork stops halfway to my mouth.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"He sold me to you. That's all I need to know," I answer.
"But do you know why?" He leans back in his chair, champagne glass in hand. "Do you know what the debt was for?"
I don't answer because I don't know. My father and brother keep what they do from me because I’m just a fragile woman. Those were my brother’s words.
"Your father was supposed to oversee a shipment at the eastern port.
" Kairo swirls the champagne in his glass, casually.
"Fifty million dollars’ worth of product moving through a window that was open for exactly two hours.
Two hours, Summer, that's all the time he had to be focused for.
Be there, watch it, make sure nothing went wrong. "
I set my fork down. He has my attention now.