Tate's Twisted Captive

1. Chapter 1

TATE

I’ve had this woman bound and waiting for twenty minutes, and I’ve fucked a hundred just like her already.

She’s a brunette with a tight body and tits that cost someone a fortune. Currently she’s tied spread-eagle to my bedposts with her ass in the air, and the open mouth gag keeps her jaw stretched wide enough to take my cock whenever I decide to give it to her.

The moaning and pleading are getting more desperate the longer I leave her there. But she knew what she was getting into when she begged me to fuck her. I told her what I was going to fucking do. She’ll get it when I’m good and fucking ready.

I’m seated in a high-backed chair in my bedroom, answering a few emails and tracking the location of the woman I actually need to see tonight.

Reese Donaldson. She’s Jenson Donaldson’s daughter. The man is a sick fuck who tried to buy my sister-in-law to be his own personal sex slave. I promised my older brother Fox that I’d put my skills to use and find a way to bring his entire operation down. And that’s what I’m going to fucking do.

In our world, made up of the rich and elite, we call ourselves the Ravens. We operate within our own set of rules, but that shit can’t stand.

She just left her father’s house, according to the alert on my phone. She’ll make an appearance at Velum soon if her patterns hold.

I pull up the photos I have of Reese on my phone. She’s gorgeous with her dark blonde hair, gray eyes, and full pouty lips. I noticed that the first time I pulled her file. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not going to fuck her. What I need is information.

The woman in my bed—I really can’t remember her name—moans again and tries to wiggle her ass.

I glance out the window instead, taking in the Boston skyline. I’m not going to bother closing the shades over the full floor-to-ceiling windows. No one can see in from this height, and even if they could, I don’t give a flying fuck.

The brunette moans around her open mouth gag again, and I watch her this time. Drool seeps into my thousand-dollar sheets. Her pussy is slick and swollen, and she’s been more than ready since I tied her down.

I pour myself two fingers of Macallan and take a slow sip.

I pull out my phone and text my younger brother, Thorne.

Me: Got another one tied up at my place. Want a piece? She’s down for it.

She was eager as fuck when I made the suggestion.

The Sinclair brothers have a reputation in our world, and there is no shortage of women throwing themselves our way to see if we fuck as good as they’ve heard.

There’s a collection of them out there who’ve had all of us in the same night.

If this were a few months ago, the three of us would’ve taken turns with the woman in my bed, passing her back and forth until she couldn’t walk straight.

But I’m afraid she’s shit out of luck tonight.

Fox is married now, completely in love with his wife, making him a one-pussy kind of man.

Good for him, I guess. I never thought he’d settle into married life. But he’s happy, and that’s all that matters to me.

Maybe one day I’ll find what makes me fucking happy. Besides watching the life go out of the eyes of someone who deserves it. I fucking love that shit.

That’s what’s going to happen to Jenson Donaldson. But it’s Fox who gets that kill.

Three dots appear on my screen.

Thorne: Damn. What does this one look like?

Me: Brunette with great tits, already gagged and waiting. Impatiently.

Thorne: Tempting, brother. But I’ve got a thing tonight.

Then why does he give a fuck what she looks like?

Me: A thing? What the fuck does that mean?

Thorne: Don’t fucking worry about it.

Me: Well now I have more questions.

Thorne: Tough shit, fucker. Have fun without me.

I toss my phone on the nightstand. I mostly wanted him to help out with making sure the woman comes a couple times. I just want to get off and get back to work, but I can’t have a woman leaving my bed unsatisfied.

The woman moans again, doing her best to beg with the gag.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, good little slut.”

I set down my whiskey and look at her, really look at her.

She’s like every other woman I’ve fucked, with her perfect ass in the air, her back arched, and her skin flushed with anticipation. She’d do anything I asked right now. I could fuck every hole she has, leaving her bruised and satisfied, and she’d fucking thank me for it.

Same as the countless other women I’ve had in this position.

My phone buzzes, and I snatch my phone back to see if Thorne changed his mind. But it’s a text from one of the men I have watching Reese Donaldson. She just arrived at Velum, a popular club for the elite. Most Ravens are members.

I need to fuck hard, and then I’ll go see what she’s doing there and if she’s interacting with anyone of interest.

I unbuckle my belt. The woman arches her back higher at the sound, presenting herself like a gift.

I fuck her because she’s here and willing.

And the release is going to stave off of the hunger for a bit, even if it’s getting far more difficult to satisfy.

I use her mouth first, watching her throat work around me while tears leak from the corners of her eyes.

Then I pound into her pussy until she’s screaming around the gag.

She comes twice before I finish down her throat.

The whole thing takes maybe fifteen minutes.

I untie her wrists and ankles while she catches her breath. Red marks circle her skin where the ropes bit in. She’ll have bruises tomorrow.

I remove the gag last. She works her jaw, then gives me a satisfied smile.

“Holy shit.” Her voice is hoarse. “That was—”

“The guest bathroom’s through there.” I nod toward the door. She’s definitely not sharing mine. “If you want to freshen up.”

She blinks as if she’s expecting something else. If she knows anything about my brothers and me, she should know there’s no fucking cuddling after. Except maybe Fox. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s a goddamn cuddler now. But he’s forever home with his wife.

I’m already walking toward the shower, locking my bathroom door behind me.

Several minutes later, I step out of the bathroom with a towel sitting low around my waist to find that she’s fully dressed and lingering near the door. She’s redone her makeup, and I hope she didn’t waste that effort on me.

I still can’t remember her fucking name. Brittany? Brianna? She told me at the club earlier tonight, but it didn’t stick.

“That was incredible.” She moves closer and runs her fingers along the tattoos on my chest. “When can I see you again?”

“I’ll call you.”

I don’t make a habit of lying, but that’s definitely a lie. I just need her out of here so I can get back to Velum.

“You don’t have my number.”

I don’t say anything, because I’m not going to fucking ask for it. She knew what this was.

Her face falls for just a second before she covers it with a smile. “Well. If you change your mind, handsome, I’m at Velum most weekends.”

She leaves, and I check my phone before the door even clicks shut. My man says Reese is still at the club.

I get dressed in dark jeans, a black button-down shirt, and then holster my Glock.

I run my fingers through my messy dark hair, not caring that it’s still a little damp.

Then I grab my keys and take the private elevator down to the garage.

My McLaren’s parked in its usual spot, one of several cars I rotate through depending on my mood.

It’s time to get back to work.

When I arrive at Velum, it’s fucking packed.

The club caters to Ravens and rich wannabes who want to play without questions, offering private rooms, expensive drinks, and a strict policy of minding your own fucking business. A lot of shit goes down here, but that isn’t my concern tonight.

I believe Reese Donaldson is my way into her father’s operation.

Jenson Donaldson is a Council member for the Ravens, equal to my father’s ranking.

And now we know he’s running one of the largest human trafficking networks on the East Coast. My father and Fox want to know how deep it goes before we make our move.

My men have been tracking her for four days while I dig up as much as I can.

Surely she’s Daddy’s little princess and probably knows exactly what he does. Many of the women in our world have to turn a blind eye to what some of these rich assholes do. She probably only cares that Daddy ensures she marries well and stays covered in expensive clothes and diamonds.

After a few minutes, I finally spot her at the bar, and my chest tightens.

The photos didn’t do her justice, not even close.

Wavy dark blonde hair spills over bare shoulders.

The pink dress is tight enough to show off tits that would fit perfectly in my hands and hips that flare out in a way that would be perfect to grip while fucking.

The hem barely covers her ass, and her legs are long and toned, ending in heels that add at least six inches.

But it’s not just her body—it’s the way she stands with her shoulders back and her chin up, like she owns this place and everyone in it. The way she scans the room with those gray eyes, like she’s looking for her next target.

That’s a look I know quite well.

I find a spot in the shadows and order a whiskey I don’t plan to drink. My eyes don’t leave her.

Reese Donaldson finishes her drink and sets the glass down. Then she moves.

She doesn’t just walk through the crowd.

She cuts through it, her hips swaying in a way that turns heads.

Everything about her is captivating and commands the attention of everyone around her.

I watch the muscles in her thighs flex with each stride, watch the way her ass shifts under that tight pink fabric. My cock is rock fucking hard.

Her eyes lock on someone I can’t see yet. I shift position, and that’s when I spot him—some mid-thirties asshole in an expensive suit, standing near the back hallway.

He doesn’t see her coming.