Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
L ondyn
A low hum woke her. It was a persistent rumble that infiltrated her consciousness. For a moment, Londyn thought it was simply a noise embedded in her head. However, it permeated the environment. The sound was consistent, steady, and did not deviate.
Cracking one eye open, she peered at her surroundings. She was in a reclining seat of buttery soft leather. It was so cushioned that it felt as though she were lying on a pillow made of clouds. There was hardly any illumination in the space, just a blue glow that shimmered in the darkness as her eyesight slowly adjusted. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper, her throat parched. And her head ached a little. Was she dreaming? Or awake? Confusion furrowed her brow, and she lifted a hand, intent on massaging her pounding temples.
“Wake up now, Londyn.”
She turned toward Oliver, a relieved smile tilting her lips at his calm voice. A sense of safety washed over her as she reached for his hand, seeking the comfort of having him close. Oliver was always so warm despite the frozen heart he sheltered from the world. She drowsily wondered if he would ever let her or anyone else inside.
Oliver took her hand, kissing it and holding it against the hard line of his jaw. The stubble that shadowed his skin sent slow, unwelcome pinpricks of alarm shivering through her body. She frowned, a buried sense of self-preservation reminding her of the danger this man presented. She tried sitting up only to discover she couldn’t. Seated beside her, Oliver’s smile was oddly reassuring despite confirming that she was restrained.
“Shhhh, you’re okay, dove.” Oliver’s hand covered hers, holding it and pinning it to the armrest. “I’ve strapped you into your seat as a precaution. The pilot says we’ll be hitting a bit of turbulence in a few moments.”
Resisting the urge to pull away, Londyn stared at his sinfully handsome face before croaking, “We-we’re in the air?”
When had he placed her on this plane? How?
Straining to remember the last moments she was conscious and aware made her head pound even harder. She couldn’t remember anything. She didn’t recognize the clothes she wore. The cream-colored Chanel sheath dress ended above her knees and dipped so low in the back that she felt the coolness of the seat’s leather against her skin. Her feet and legs were bare, a pair of delicate high-heeled pumps sitting in a heap on the floor in front of her. Her pulse beat rapidly, realizing it was likely that Oliver had been the one to dress her.
“Yes. Winter Enterprises’s private jet. Well, one of them. Would you like a sip of water?” Raising an eyebrow, Oliver tipped a water bottle toward her, silently asking if she wanted it or not.
Without thinking twice, Londyn grabbed it and twisted the cap. She drank half of it before something caught her attention. A huge diamond ring glittered on the third finger of her left hand.
She froze, staring at the piece of jewelry, confused.
“No. No, no, no. ” The words trailed off in a moan of despair, her gaze snapping to his. “What-what does this mean?”
“It means we are on our honeymoon, dove,” was his sardonic reply. “I hope you like the ring. Harry Winston’s was kind enough to open their Las Vegas showroom after hours for me. When the manager pulled this from their private collection, I knew it was perfect for you. You were a bit… incapacitated… at the time, so I gambled and selected this for you. It’s one of a kind. Quite spectacular and very rare. A blue diamond, cut from one of the most famous diamonds before it was donated to the Smithsonian.” He smirked at her. “No one is supposed to know about that, so keep it confidential, will you? It is a closely guarded secret, after all.”
“We’re not married,” Londyn breathed, barely listening to his explanation for why she was wearing this ring. She felt faint. She thought she might throw up. This could not be happening. How did this happen ? He would never marry her. He had made his thoughts on marriage painfully clear. “We cannot be married.”
“We most certainly are,” Oliver countered almost cheerfully, waving his left hand at her so she could see the beautifully simple platinum band on his own finger.
“You’re lying. You are lying to me. This isn’t real.”
“Oh, Londyn,” he tsked in mock disappointment. “I may withhold information and sometimes even keep the truth from you, but I will never lie to you.”
The cushion cut, blue stone nestled in a halo of sparkling white diamonds was enormous on her finger. A thin band of matching flawless diamonds completed the set. The stone itself had to be at least five carats. She couldn’t stop staring at it, and her stomach swooped in horror when Oliver laid a heavy hand on her knee, steadying her while taking the forgotten water bottle from her nerveless fingers. Had she been standing, she would have fallen to her knees. Her entire world was tilting and spinning.
“There’s that turbulence...” Oliver murmured, and Londyn abruptly realized her dizziness was the jet reacting to the unstable atmosphere, not her surprise marriage.
“I would never agree to this. I would not have said yes...”
Oliver leaned closer, his eyes gleaming as cold and bright blue as the diamond on her finger. “You said yes, Londyn. Driving down the Las Vegas strip, you were so excited to say yes that I couldn’t keep you off my dick.” His voice lowered in heated remembrance. “You were so insistent that I happily let you do whatever you wanted. Take whatever you wanted. I leaned back against the leather seat of that limo while you climbed onto my lap. Then you straddled me with those beautiful long legs of yours, and I watched while you fucked me. With the limo sitting in the driveway of the judge’s home, while he waited to hear us exchange vows. My driver was snickering because he knew exactly what was going on in the backseat; you came all over my cock and screamed my name. So, yeah, you said yes. Several times, as a matter of fact.”
“There-there were other people there?” Londyn bit back a sob, covering her mouth as nausea rose in her throat. To know there were possible witnesses to her behavior, even if she could not remember it, filled her with shame.
His eyes hardened, his features growing tight. “One of my Las Vegas crew driving the limo and the judge who performed the ceremony. Don’t worry about them. The judge would never betray us, and as for the driver… I cut his tongue out.”
Londyn stared at Oliver, not sure if she heard him correctly. “You-you cut out his tongue.”
“Stupid bastard asked if I intended to pass you around. Now, in all fairness, he can’t be blamed for thinking I’d share a woman I had just fucked with my men. I’ve done it many times, tossing them my scraps to use however they wanted. But to think...to insinuate that I would share my wife ? That I would ever consider such a thing?” Oliver shook his head, reaching out to tuck a tendril of Londyn’s hair behind her ear, his touch tender despite the brutality of his words. “I made sure he understood the gravity of his error. Word will quickly spread just how seriously I take such transgressions.”
“This is crazy… You took me to Nevada, married me in a ceremony I don’t recall, and afterward, you cut out of the tongue of one of your men. Do you not see how insane this sounds? It’s something you’ve created to make me think I’m crazy. Because I don’t remember any of that. I don’t remember anything since… since we had dinner at your cabin. When you put a collar around my neck… made me crawl to you…” Londyn’s eyes widened in horror as she shakily touched her throat. Feeling the choker still locked around the slim column of her neck, she could no longer hold back her tears, realizing what he had done. “You monster… you drugged me? That’s why I cannot remember what happened.” Her voice climbed higher and higher until it was almost a shrill shriek. “You drugged me!”
“I couldn’t take the chance that you would try escaping or fight me when we exchanged vows.” Taking her hand with the wedding ring on it, Oliver pressed a soft kiss to it. He ignored her hysterical reaction. “I used the lowest dose possible to mitigate any effects. The GHB made you compliant, but you were still functional. Mostly. You could walk. Talk. Sign your name on our marriage license and recite your vows.”
Londyn snatched her hand from his grasp, frantically tearing at the ring to remove it before he took her elbow in a painfully tight grip.
“Take that ring off, and I’ll have it permanently attached, Londyn,” Oliver warned ominously. “Believe me, you don’t want to know how I will accomplish that,”
Londyn did not think. She slapped him with all her strength. Fumbling with the belt cinched tightly around her waist, she got the latch undone and scrambled out of her seat.
Oliver sighed heavily as she fell in a heap, her legs numb from a combination of the GHB and from sitting in one spot for so long. “Where do you think you are going, Londyn? There’s nowhere to go.” Releasing his own seatbelt, he rose from his seat, following her as she got to her feet and darted toward the rear of the jet. “If you just calm down, you’ll see that this is not the end of the world you think it is.”
“Calm down? Are you crazy?” Londyn flattened herself against the wall as he stalked toward her. The sky was pitch black outside the small window across from her. It was nighttime. How long had she been drugged? How long had it been since the dinner they shared in his dining room? Hours or days? How long had she been his wife?
He drew closer, and Londyn whimpered at the sight of the reddened imprint of her hand on his lightly tanned cheek.
“Why are you doing this to me? Is it not enough that you’ve tormented me for weeks? Stolen my life? You’ve taken everything from me.”
“That’s true.” A strange look crossed Oliver’s features as he caged her in, his hand coming up to caress the collar around her throat. He traced the outline of the diamond pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat. “But now, I’m giving you a new life, little dove. This is the only way I know how to accomplish that while also keeping you safe. Being my wife is your only option if you want to stay alive.”
“A life spent in captivity, in servitude, is not a life,” Londyn whispered. “A lifetime as your plaything does not mean safety, Oliver. You’re killing me. Slowly. Surely. I’m dying every minute that you keep me as your prisoner.”
Oliver’s hand slid into her loose hair, tilting her tear-streaked face until there was no choice but to look up at him. He was so gentle it was almost disarming; so tender that Londyn questioned herself and what she knew of him. The tattooed hands holding her so carefully had inflicted unimaginable cruelty on God only knew how many people. Those hands had murdered. Tortured. Maimed. How could she feel even a flicker of safety while in his embrace?
“I know that, Londyn. Believe me, I know. But you must realize that every minute I am without you, I am dying as well. I-I want things with you that I cannot explain. I want to feel things I’ve never felt before. Things that scare the fuck out of me. Things I never wanted before you. And I want to feel it all with you , Londyn. I want to feel everything because of you. Most of all, I want to keep you safe.”
Oliver sighed, pressing closer until Londyn’s hands braced themselves against his chest. Just touching him, feeling his muscles flexing beneath the black button-down shirt he wore, made her melt inside. She fought against that irrational feeling, determined not to give in. Giving in to him would be her ultimate demise. She was sure of that.
“Is it to keep me safe or is this just your fucked-up way of keeping me for yourself, Oliver?” she spat bitterly, wishing she had the bravery to slap him again. It was deadly foolish to believe he would allow such a direct attack a second time.
“Both,” Oliver replied, leaning so close that their foreheads touched. He huffed out a rueful chuckle. “I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to you, but you already know that, too. You’ve been my wife for almost three hours, and word will spread quickly. No one, certainly not my enemies, will dare try taking you from me.” He dropped tiny kisses down the side of her throat. They burned like lit matches on her skin, lighting little fires and igniting her from the inside out.
“What will you do with me now?” She was holding in her screams, fear of the unknown stretching her nerves until they trembled like fragile strings on the verge of snapping. She wondered what the future held for her. Was it easier to get rid of one’s legal wife when you tired of her? Would she be tossed aside one day, left to live her own life once he had used her? Or would he simply arrange for her disappearance?
A sad smile tilted the corners of his firm mouth as he pushed his hand against the door to the jet’s private bedroom. “I won’t hide you from the world. I want everyone to know that you are truly mine . This marriage guarantees your safety. I’m taking you to see your sister.”
Londyn fell back into the room with a gasp, Oliver following with a heavy hand on her hip. She could not appreciate the luxurious beauty of the room, not with him prowling after her. She did not stop retreating until the back of her knees hit the king-sized bed.
“My sister?” She latched onto his cryptic statement, wondering if she’d heard him correctly.
Oliver took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. “Yes. You do want to see her, don’t you?”
Londyn nodded, gratitude welling inside her. Was he really taking her to Paris? Or was it a cruel trick designed to build her trust in him?
“We’ll be landing soon.” Oliver stroked a thumb over her slender fingers. He hesitated, then said softly, “I need to check the bandage on your back. Then you can pick out some more comfortable clothes to wear.”
Her head tilted in confusion. “Bandage?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Let me help you. Put your arms up.”
Londyn woodenly obeyed, feeling something tugging at the skin on her spine as she did so. She’d not noticed it before. Had she been injured somehow? Whatever was there did not hurt, not really. It was more of a twinge of awareness, a dull ache localized in one spot.
Oliver dragged the dress over her head, laying it gently across a chair before turning her to face the bed.
“Bend over, wife. I want your hands flat on the bed.”
“What did you do to me, Oliver?” Her voice was a shaky whisper while he exerted pressure between her shoulder blades, forcing compliance. Why the word “wife” sent pleasurable shockwaves throughout her body was surely one of the Devil’s cruelest tricks.
“I marked what is mine so there will be no doubt who you belong to.”
“The ring wasn’t enough? Forcing me to marry you wasn’t enough?”
Oliver laughed softly. “Sadly, no. I need a more visceral sign to satisfy me. Something I can trace with my tongue before I fuck you.”
A shameful shudder of lust melted Londyn upon hearing his blunt words. She nearly collapsed on the bed from the force of it, but gritting her teeth, she remained in the position he wanted, shaking as he examined her back while lightly prodding what must have been a bandage of some sort.
“Did you carve your name into my skin, Oliver? Or did you mark your property with a branding iron?”
His fingers gently touched her, stroking her skin. “Just a simple tattoo, dove. My personal motto along your beautiful spine. And you can be sure I will follow it when it comes to you.”
“I don’t understand,” she confessed softly.
“Bleed for me, dove. You will bleed for me. And I will give my last drop of blood for you.” His tongue swirled around the edges of the bandage, reminding her of his words moments before. “Now, I’m going to fuck my wife for the first time, and you will let me, won’t you, sweet girl?”
Londyn thought of resisting. She thought of fighting back. But it was impossible when her pussy clenched with need, her flesh wet and aching. She heard the muted jingle of his belt, the unmistakable sound of a zipper lowering, and then he was surging inside her, driving deep until she hissed from the sting. When she fell forward onto her elbows, her body softening for him, he laughed softly and pulled her hips up higher to accommodate his thrusting.
She wanted to both scream with exultation and sob with surrender as her body welcomed him. She was coming within seconds from the angle and the way his pierced cock hit that special spot deep inside her. Gripping the duvet, she trembled, knowing this was exactly where she wanted to be. Pinned beneath him, at his mercy and helpless to resist.
“My sweet, innocent wife likes it rough, doesn’t she?” Oliver lightly slapped one butt cheek, erasing the sting with a soothing massage of his palm while pumping into her willing body. “Now, come again for me, wife . I want to hear you screaming my name. I want you screaming, ‘yes, husband,’ before this jet lands.”
“Oliver,” Londyn moaned, her body swaying back and forth with his thrusts. She wasn’t sure why she said his name. He would continue taking what he wanted, and she would welcome it despite the war between her mind and her traitorous body. “God, don’t stop...”
All motion stopped. Only the sounds of their breathing filled the cabin. With agonizing slowness, Oliver withdrew from her body. Londyn did not move, unsure and admittedly a little frightened by the unexpected action. Her ears picked up the rustling of his clothing, the thump of a shoe hitting the soft carpet, a muffled curse, and the sound of something ripping.
What was he about to do next? Bind her? Gag her? Fuck her harder and without mercy? Her body flared up in flames at the thought. She wanted all those things and more.
“Oliver?” His name was a shaky whisper on her lips.
“I’m right here, dove. I’m not going anywhere.”