Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
L ondyn
Londyn sensed Oliver standing behind her long before he made his presence known.
This connection she felt with her captor was awful. She hated how her skin prickled when his spicy cologne drifted to her nostrils. She despised the tightening of her sensitive nipples and the lighting sharp tingle between her thighs as the atmosphere in the kitchen grew heavy. Maintaining her composure while smiling at his housekeeper as if nothing was wrong was an exercise in hiding her emotions. How she stood there, exchanging pleasantries as if she were a temporary guest here by choice, she could not explain. Pretending she was not affected by the memory of this man rutting over her was impossible.
Although she’d yet to look in his direction, the weight of his stare could not be ignored. Tiny tremors of apprehension rippled through her when the housekeeper finally noticed her employer.
“Good morning, Mister Winter. It’s good to see you back from your business so soon. I got here a little early today and was just introducing myself to Miss Skye. Can I make you both some breakfast before I start my duties?” Miss Miller asked, her voice cheerful and bright. She was a middle-aged woman; if Londyn hazarded a guess, she would say the housekeeper was somewhere around fifty.
Inwardly, Londyn cringed, but her chin tilted higher in a pathetic show of defiance. She regretted not returning to her bedroom the instant she realized the housekeeper was in the kitchen. She’d only come down to grab something for breakfast, then she would have isolated herself as Oliver had commanded. But seeing the woman’s open, friendly smile had her ignoring his orders.
Her gaze clashed with Oliver’s as she turned to face him.
Dear Lord. He looked like a god in that suit. All crisp and businesslike, other than a tie that seemed to be missing and the top few buttons of his black shirt undone. The dark-gray material clung to his hard body in smooth perfection, and his blue eyes were hard as steel and as cold as the deepest ocean as he regarded her. Londyn’s nerves fluttered like a million butterflies in her gut. She couldn’t gauge his reaction to the interaction between herself and the friendly housekeeper. Was he angry? Indifferent? Or did it go beyond that to murderous?
She averted her gaze from his and flashed a smile at the housekeeper. “That’s not necessary, Miss Miller. I’m fine with a piece of toast and some fruit.”
Miss Miller laughed, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s no trouble at all. Mister Winter likes my omelets, so if you are okay with that, I’ll whip up a couple for you. And I’ve already made coffee. Is that okay with you, Mister Winter?” Without waiting for an answer, the housekeeper began pulling out the necessary items and cookware to make breakfast.
“That’s fine. Thank you, Miss Miller,” Oliver murmured, stepping closer to Londyn where she stood at thekitchen island. Leaning into her space, his lips hovered around her ear as he pulled out one of the barstools for her. “Should I bend you over this counter like I did last time we were here, dove?”
He did not touch her, but he might as well have. His husky words slid over her like warm honey, and Londyn immediately blushed at the imagery of his statement. She couldn’t get a read on him. There was an edge about him, but oddly enough, she didn’t think it was related directly to her. Maybe he wouldn’t punish her for defying his orders to avoid his housekeeper. Her lips thinned at the insidious thought that perhaps it was what she secretly wanted. His large hand crashing on her bottom. Snaking between her legs. His mouth, so hard and brutal, plundering her own as he took what he wanted.
Londyn wasn’t sure she could form words with her breath hanging in her throat and her heart pounding from the path of her thoughts.
It was a blessing when Miss Miller saved her from responding. “Sit, sit! It will only take a few minutes to get everything ready. While you wait, here’s some coffee.”
Londyn carefully slid onto the barstool, gratefully accepting the steaming cup of coffee from the housekeeper. Removing his coat, Oliver did the same, his lips twitching as if he recognized the reason for her careful movements. While she blushed even more, he watched as she prepped the drink the way she liked it—more cream than sugar until it was the color of cashmere. She noticed he drank his coffee black, and her nose scrunched at the thought.
“What’s the matter?” Oliver asked, sipping from his cup. “Is it not to your liking? Or was it not enough?”
The innuendo in his tone was unmistakable. He was referring to her obvious soreness and the reasons behind it. Londyn’s attention focused on the cup she held in her hands. She didn’t want him to know her pussy still ached from the thorough fucking he’d given her two days ago. She didn’t want him to know she had slept restlessly for the last two nights, strangely ill at ease with his absence. She certainly did not want him to know she spent the long hours alone, alternately dreading and hoping for his return. “Nothing’s the matter.”
“Tell me.”
She set her cup down, cut her gaze at him, and shyly remarked, “You drink your coffee with nothing in it. It’s so bitter without sugar and cream, don’t you think?”
“Mister Winter always drinks his coffee black,” Miss Miller said cheerfully while whisking eggs and cheese in a small mixing bowl. “I was surprised he requested creamer be included with the grocery order, but then I realized he wanted it for you, Miss Skye.”
Oliver’s lips tightened with the housekeeper’s revelation. “The butter is burning in the pan, Miss Miller.”
Miss Miller waved her hand at Oliver. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it! Don’t worry. I’ll not burn your breakfast.”
Londyn fell silent, drinking her coffee while contemplating Miss Miller’s statement. She couldn’t imagine Oliver doing anything so… thoughtful. And especially not on her behalf. But there was so much about him that was a mystery. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he shattered her perception.
As they ate breakfast, the housekeeper busied herself cleaning the kitchen. Londyn was starving, and she quickly downed half her omelet while Oliver made small talk with the older woman.
Oliver smiled his thanks when the housekeeper refilled their coffee cups. “I have some items being delivered to the front gate today. I would appreciate it if you would place them in my bedroom once they arrive. I’m leaving this morning to take care of some business, but I’ll return this afternoon.”
“Of course, Mister Winter. Is there anything you would like from the store? I’m placing another order today.”
“That won’t be necessary, the house will be empty in a couple of days.”
Londyn paused—her fork midair and loaded with a bite of steaming omelet.
Oh, God. Does he mean what I think he means? He’s going to finally do it. He’s getting rid of me.
Her hand was shaky as she laid the fork across the plate. Although it took every bit of willpower she possessed not to jump from the barstool, she remained calm. If she could get outside and away from the cabin, if she acted like nothing was wrong, there was a better chance of escaping the fate he had planned.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Miss Miller tsked. “Your time here is always too short.” Her friendly smile was directed at Londyn. “I hope you come back and visit us, Miss Skye.”
Oliver pushed his plate away and stood to move behind Londyn’s chair. “She would love to, wouldn’t you, Londyn?” His fingers rested on either side of her neck, lightly skimming the skin over her collarbone. To the casual observer, it would appear to be a sweet, caring gesture of affection. Or a display of ownership from Londyn’s point of view. She could not help the way her body trembled in response, and when he squeezed her in warning, Londyn swallowed a whimper.
“Of course,” she quickly answered and was rewarded when Oliver’s mouth brushed her ear, his breath warm and spine-tingling.
“Good girl,” he murmured before raising his voice for Miss Miller’s benefit. “I wonder if you could prepare a basket that we can take to the lake this afternoon. Just simple things… fruit and cheese. And a bottle of wine from the cellar. Red, I think, would be nice. Maybe the Hundred Acre Dark Ark Cabernet Sauvignon?”
Oliver waited for Londyn to stand up, then entwined his fingers with hers, pulling her closer as Miss Miller beamed in approval. “If you will excuse us, Miss Miller, I must make sure Londyn is properly prepared for our outing today. Just leave the items on the dining room table, and we’ll grab them on our way out later today.”
He dragged Londyn from the kitchen, taking her down a hallway she’d not dared to venture down during her exploration of the house. It was dark, dimly lit by the window at the far end, and paneled in rich wood with matching recessed molding. A moment later, Oliver turned the handle on a heavy oak door and pulled her inside a room paneled in the same manner. It was an office. A huge desk crafted of black-stained wood occupied a space in front of tall windows. With the drapes pulled open enough to admit a swath of morning sunlight, Londyn could see the trees beyond and a glimpse of blue sky above them.
Kicking the door shut and turning the lock, Oliver swiftly pressed Londyn flat against the paneled wall. He leaned into her space with a wicked smile. “Did you miss me, little dove?”
He smelled like rich coffee and his spicy, sharp cologne. Londyn’s hands fisted in his black shirt, pulling him closer without meaning to, which was an answer itself.
Untangling her fingers from the fabric, Oliver gripped her wrists in one large hand and pinned them to the wall above her head. His gaze raked over her body, his mouth quirking upward at the Vandy sweatshirt, khaki shorts, and tennis shoes she wore. “These are not the clothes I bought you, are they?” Those icy-blue eyes smoldered as his free hand snaked around her waist. Slipping his fingers beneath the sweatshirt’s hem, he ran a gentle finger over the cuts he’d given her.
Londyn’s eyes fluttered shut as she swallowed a cry. She had examined those marks several times, craning her head and looking over her shoulder to see them in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. They tingled as he traced them, one by one, until she finally opened her eyes. His gaze bore into hers, a spark of possessive triumph deep in the blue depths.
“No,” she admitted softly. The things she wore were familiar. Comfortable. She didn’t feel bought and owned when she slipped them on.
“Are you still bleeding?” he asked softly, his fingers still exploring her back.
“No,” Londyn choked out. She would have arched away from his touch, but that would only press her body closer to his. “They don’t hurt…”
“I’m not talking about the cuts I gave you.” His gravelly voice cut her off. His hand left the small of her back, sliding to the front of her body and between her legs until he cupped her sex. His palm was firm, hot, and inescapable. Londyn gasped in shock as he ground it against her, leaving no doubt as to the nature of thebleeding he referred to.
“Are you bleeding, dove?” he questioned again. “Because that will determine your punishment.”
She quickly shook her head. An alarming spark ignited with the movement of his hand, and although her flesh was sore, Londyn closed her eyes in disbelief at how good it felt. “Punishment?”
“You deliberately disobeyed me.”
“You-you said I could go to different areas of the house. The kitchen?—”
Oliver laughed. “Don’t twist my words, Londyn. I instructed you to avoid interacting with my employees. Instead, I return to find you and Miss Miller chitchatting like best friends.
“It was an accident.” Londyn’s voice was shaky. “I did not know she was in the house this early. And I couldn’t help but talk to her. It would have been rude not to. Besides, I’ve not spoken to anyone other than you for two weeks now. I’m going crazy in this house by myself.”
“I understand that, dove. I really do. But it doesn’t change the fact you disobeyed me. Now, either wrap those pretty lips around my cock in the next five seconds or face the consequences for your defiance. What’s it going to be?”
“Fuck you,” Londyn whispered, knowing Oliver would take that as a challenge.
His smirk grew. “That’s the spirit. And while I really do admire your feistiness, right now, I’ll settle for fucking your mouth and enjoying the sounds you make while you choke on my dick.” Releasing her hands, Oliver wrapped his fingers around her throat and brushed his nose against her cheek, breathing deep as his grip tightened. “You smell so goddamn good when you’re scared, Londyn. I can’t get enough.”
Londyn held her breath as he nuzzled the space below her ear. When he took the earlobe between his teeth and bit down, Londyn’s throat closed around a moan. She hated how quickly her resistance faded, but Oliver cast a seductive spell that was difficult to resist.
“Down on your knees for me, dove.”
Londyn shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “No.”
“Oh, this is non-negotiable,” he replied with a chuckle, flexing his fingers until her breath came out in little pants.
“You told Miss Miller the house would be empty. Where are you going?” Londyn countered abruptly.
Oliver tilted his head, curiosity edging out the lust in his gaze. “You mean, where are we going? But that’s not important right now, Londyn. You’ve earned a punishment, and I’m going to fuck your mouth.”
“You’ll take my corpse with you?” Londyn’s voice was shaky, ignoring the last part of his statement. “Thats-that’s sick.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Oliver scowled. “You’re going with me when I leave here. I’ve told you it will be a while before I’m tired of you.”
“Where are you taking me?” Her persistence was likely annoying him, and ideally, she would not be asking these questions with her thighs wet from arousal.
His jaw hardened as one hand buried in her hair, wrapping it around his fist like a rope. “To my family’s estate. There is an army of men whose only job it is to provide absolute, unwavering protection. It will be safer there.”
“Safer? What does that mean? Why would you worry about keeping me safe if you are just going to kill me at some point? It doesn’t make sense.”
Oliver swore under his breath. “It’s the only way I can be sure you aren’t stolen from me.”
“Who would take me? No one knows I’m with you except…” Londyn’s voice was hardly more than a frightened whisper. As bad as Oliver Winter was, Diamond Lake Ranch and the men running it were the stuff of nightmares. “They want to take me back, don’t they? Th-those monsters at the ranch. They want me back. They won’t let you keep me, will they?”
“Understand this, Londyn. I don’t answer to anyone, especially bastards who think they can fuck me over. They will not take you from me, but it is an unfortunate reality that this house is not as secure as my brother’s stronghold. The Den is a fucking fortress, so that’s where we will go.”
“You paid for me. Played their sick game. They offered me up to the wolves as a sacrifice. What will they do? Resell me to someone worse? Someone who would slice my throat the moment he fucked me?” Londyn’s voice was laced with panic. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful Oliver had no intention of murdering her just yet, worried that he would imprison her in a place that probably rivaled Alcatraz or terrified that she would end up back at Diamond Lake Ranch.
“No one is taking you from me, Londyn. No one. Not now. Not ever. Now, the subject is closed. So, let’s return to the issue of your punishment, shall we?” Oliver said silkily. “I won’t tell you again to get down on your knees.” His hand tightened in her hair, his other resting on her shoulder, exerting pressure until Londyn had no choice but to sink to the floor. The wooden planks were cold and hard beneath her bare knees, and she shivered at the absolute power this man held over her. Why she obeyed was unexplainable. The only explanation was that she was just as sick and twisted as he was.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” Oliver murmured, rubbing his thumb over her lips as she stared at him. He must have noticed the softening in her gaze when he praised her because the depths of his icy-blue eyes sparked with flames. She was becoming as addicted to hearing the words as he was to saying them. Pushing the digit into her mouth, he smiled when she automatically pressed her lips together. “Suck,” he commanded softly, and when she did, a guttural groan escaped him before he pulled his thumb free. “Your mouth is fucking amazing. Unfasten my belt, unzip my trousers, and take my cock out, Londyn.”
Removing his cell phone from the pocket of his suit coat, Oliver tossed it toward the desk, where it landed and slid across the smooth surface. Londyn’s gaze followed its path until it came to rest on the desk blotter. She wished for the bravery required to jump from the floor and grab it. Was Oliver quick enough to grab her before she scrambled to his desk? Would his hands be around her throat before she could dial 911?
“Londyn.” Shrugging out his suit jacket, he tossed it aside andthen made a show of rolling up his shirtsleeves to expose his forearms.
The stern way he spoke jerked Londyn’s attention back to him. He kept one hand entangled in her hair as she obeyed his command until she could pull his trousers and silk boxer briefs down past his trim hips. His cock was erect, the crown glistening with moisture as it strained toward her mouth. The six barbells glinted in the light filtering through the half-drawn drapes. Londyn’s throat tightened, remembering how those piercings felt when he was thrusting in and out of her mouth during their time in the basement. And her pussy clenched, aching for the painful pleasure she experienced the morning he ripped through her virginity and claimed her as his own.
There was nowhere she could go at. Not with the wall at her back and his large, muscular body standing before her. Her gaze rose to meet his, her hands bracing on top of his hard thighs, her fingers digging in until she was sure Oliver could feel the bite of pain. Lust illuminated his eyes as they stared at one another for an eternity. His mouth was tight with tension, the cords in his neck visible, and the veins in his forearms prominent. He was a man on the edge. A heartbeat away from taking and taking and taking. A kiss away from falling into the abyss.
Her body ached for him. Longed for his domination. For his hard hands and even harder possession. When his mouth curved that cruel and familiar smirk, Londyn realized he knew exactly what she wanted.
“Open your mouth, Londyn. And keep your eyes on me.”