Bought and Bound (2 page)

“This is the standard uniform all our slaves leave in,” he replied. “She’s ready.”

A heavily muscled man pushed the door open and grabbed me by the arm. “Go ahead,” he said to an equally large man on the other side of me.

I looked back toward the one who’d spoken and a blindfold appeared in front of me a split second before it covered my eyes. I was suddenly afraid. As my hands were being tied behind my back, I wondered if this was really only for a few days or if Eric had duped me again. What if this was forever? How could I have trusted him?

I took in deep breaths and told myself this was all probably part of the game. Soon I’d be with Eric’s friend who wouldn’t lay a hand on me. Sure, I’d be doing embarrassing things for him, but what was a few days of embarrassment compared to keeping my family’s house?

Strong arms lifted me off my feet and carried me away.

“What the hell?” The booming voice woke me from another strange dream, then I realized they hadn’t been dreams at all. I was bound, lying near the foot of a huge bed. My blindfold had shifted so I could peek from beneath the fabric. “Where’s my brother? Oren!” the man bellowed.

I caught a glimpse of his muscular chest as he turned away from me and walked toward his bedroom door. From my vantage point, he seemed huge, with wide shoulders and upper arms bigger than my thighs. He wore only a pair of black pants, his brown chest bare. I noticed his shoulder-length hair was wet.

“Oren!” he shouted again.

A heavyset man in a wheel chair appeared in the next room. I couldn’t see his face because the muscle man was blocking most of the doorway. “What are you shouting about, Dimitri?” The other man asked calmly. There was something odd about the way he spoke that I couldn’t put my finger on.

“I came out of my shower and found
that
on my bed. Is this your doing?”

That? Meaning me?

“I think she’s exactly what you need.”

“For what? What could I possibly need a kidnapped woman for?”

“She’s not kidnapped, Dimitri. I bought her at the slave auction. She’s yours for the holiday weekend. Anything you want to do with her.”

“What holiday? And if I want nothing to do with her?”

“Independence Day…in the states.”

So this wasn’t Eric’s friend, if Eric even had a friend in the first place. And it sounded as if I wasn’t even in the U.S. any more. Maybe that explained the way they spoke. Their English words were separated clearly instead of run together like I was used to, and there was an unusual rhythm to their speech.

But if I wasn’t in “the states,” where was I?

I tried to remember what had happened after the auction. I’d been hustled off a loading dock into a van, then put on an airplane. I vaguely remembered a heavy-set man instructing me. “Your name is Marissa. If you give any other name for the next three days, the deal is off. If you do not fulfill your time, you will not get paid.”

I couldn’t remember anything after that. Had someone drugged me? Actually, I’d sort of drugged myself with all that wine at the restaurant followed by champagne at the auction. And I hadn’t slept much in weeks, worrying about getting a job and losing the house. I’d actually thought Eric’s booty call might help—that maybe the sex would relax me and I could fall asleep in a man’s arms. Eric wasn’t the most comforting person, but “any port in a storm,” as they say…

Maybe the sleep deprivation together with more alcohol than I ever consumed in one night had been the reason I slept so hard. But for how long? I could be anywhere in the world.

“You’ve been a bear for six months,” Oren said. “You’ve got to move on with your life.

And this is one way to do it.”

“With some
whore
who sold herself at the slave auction?”

Whore?
Ouch.
I hadn’t been sober enough to realize that I’d made myself a prostitute when I signed the papers at the auction.

“Use her however you wish. Take out all your anger on her. Then you can move on and find yourself a nice woman and make us an heir.”

“An heir? We’re not royalty, Oren.”

“No, but there’s a lot to inherit. And what about the family you wanted? My nieces and nephews?”

“I would have to have a wife for that, and I’ve learned my lesson on that front. Now get this strange woman off my bed.”

“It would be rude to turn down a birthday gift, Dimitri. Oh, and I left you some other toys in that box in the corner. Under the circumstances, you should probably make use of them. Use her as you will. She’ll be gone in a few days.” Oren moved out of sight.

Dimitri slammed his fist into the doorframe. “Oren! I don’t need another whore in my house!” But there was no response.

He turned, walked back into the room and slammed his bedroom door shut.

Fuck.
This definitely wasn’t the OCD guy. This man was pissed off that I was here. I could kiss my house goodbye. I hoped I wasn’t stranded in some foreign country with no way to get back.

He walked over to the bed expelling loud ragged breaths. He was huge standing over me this close. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Did someone force you into this?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

“Are you here of your own free will?”

“Yes.”

He paced back and forth next to the bed. “My older brother…you’d think with his injuries, his womanizing days would be over, but it looks like he’s procuring them for me now… What’s your name?”

“Marissa.”

He went still. It sounded as if he’d stopped breathing completely. I opened my eyes and peeked at him. He was like a statue, his hands on his hips, staring at me. His face was perfectly chiseled. His nose straight and strong, his lips full…he was a Greek god.

“That isn’t your real name. My brother told you to—what is your real name?”

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. His brother was the one paying me and he’d warned me…

“Marissa,” I said again.

“Whores,” he gritted out. “My life has been cursed with whores. They’ll do anything to get your money. Pretend they are the woman of your dreams. Pretend to be someone else…” He took in a deep breath and looked away. “Seriously…” His voice had lost its anger and hinted at a more gentle side to him. “What’s your name?” he coaxed.

His tone stabbed at my chest. He’d been hurt. He just wanted an honest answer from a woman…but I couldn’t give it to him.

“Marissa,” I whispered. I peeked up and caught a glimpse of his hardened face. He was livid.

“You want to be Marissa so badly?” His booming voice echoed in my ears. He unzipped his pants and climbed on the bed with me, positioning his hips at my eye level. “Do you remember how you couldn’t bear to suck cock,
Marissa
? I never once felt your lips on my dick. Then I came home to find you outside, sucking on the pool boy like he had a popsicle between his thighs.”

Shit.
No wonder he hated women. And now
I
was Marissa, apparently the most hated of all.

He pressed his cock against my lips. I was surprised at how large it was, considering it wasn’t even erect. “Make me hard, like that pool boy, Marissa. Because of you, I haven’t had a woman’s lips on my cock in years.”

Years?
I wasn’t sure I could make up for years of oral deprivation. I barely knew what I was doing when it came to sex. He pressed the skin below his navel against my nose and I inhaled him. The mixture of his male musk and the soap he’d used in his shower was intoxicating. I wet my lips.

“Now!” he said.

A thrill passed through my body at his commanding tone. My thighs tightened as my pussy clenched with need.

He pulled my chin down roughly and pushed his semi-hard cock into my mouth. He wound his fist tightly into my hair. I shuddered from the pleasure-pain.

Tentatively, I ran my tongue up his shaft. Within seconds, he grew and hardened until he filled my mouth completely. I imagined it entering my pussy…what a tight squeeze it would be if he…

A twinge of desire hit my abdomen and I knew my own liquid lube had been released in my pussy.

He pulled back, then pushed his hips toward my face, again and again, jackhammering my mouth with his shaft. Though my jaw ached from the pressure, I couldn’t resist peeking beneath the blindfold, watching his wet, shiny cock slide between my lips and retreat again.

When he slowed, I swirled my tongue on his slick, hard member. He groaned. My thighs squeezed again. I wanted more of him. I wanted him to have more of me.

He moved his hand from my hair down to grasp my shoulder, but when he did, he caught the blindfold with his thumb and it slid down past my nose. I saw that his body was bent as though he was watching his cock thrust in and out of my mouth, just as I had done.

I couldn’t help myself. I raised my eyes to see his face. It was tensed in a grimace of pleasure, and I felt powerful for making him react that way.

But then, his gaze met mine. His eyes widened in surprise and his mouth opened. “Fuck!” he said. He grabbed the back of my head and held it still while he pushed his long shaft into my throat over and over again. “Fuck you Marissa!” he yelled toward the ceiling. Then he shuddered against me, his hot come spurting into my throat. I struggled not to gag, but it was hard to swallow with his huge cock in my mouth.

Panting, eyes closed, he held me there for several seconds, his body jerking involuntarily.

Then without comment, he pulled away and got off the bed, zipping his pants, as his come leaked from one side of my mouth.

“If you’re planning to be Marissa all week, expect to suck a lot of cock,” he said harshly. I noticed he wasn’t making any eye contact now.

“Acacia!” He flung open the door. “Acacia!”

“Yes, sir?” An olive-skinned young woman in a maid’s uniform entered. Her brown eyes widened when she first saw me, but she quickly composed her professional expression.

“Untie her. Let her bathe or whatever she needs. I’ll be back in an hour. No conversations.

Have her hands retied and put this blindfold back on her. I don’t want to see her eyes.”

The last comment was more shocking than anything he’d done so far, since I constantly got compliments on my eyes. Why wouldn’t he want to see my eyes? And why did it hurt when he said that?

Because the truth was, as odd as our first meeting had been, I wanted the chance to gaze into his eyes. I knew I’d see pain and anger and hurt, but I needed to see what else I could find. He wasn’t like any other man I’d ever known. His passions seemed to bubble just beneath the surface.

Since high school, I’d always had a thing for those frat boy types—or future frat boys, at first. They were always looking for sex with the hottest girls, but I never detected an ounce of passion, not even with Eric, the only one of his kind I’d actually slept with.

Yet passion radiated from Dimitri and I wanted more, good or bad.

*****

Acacia had done the bare minimum. She’d quickly started the bath for me, handed me a towel and gotten the hell out. So far, she hadn’t come back to tie and blindfold me.

This all seemed so surreal. I thought back to how I’d gotten here. I was actually exchanging sex for money. Was I more shocked on moral grounds or because I never thought someone would pay for my non-existent sexual expertise?

The bedroom door opened and Dimitri looked like a giant in the doorway. Well, not a giant exactly—probably only six foot two or so, but still tall compared to my five feet nothing. And his shoulders were so broad, his body so muscular, that his presence seemed to envelope the whole room.

He pushed the door shut and took inventory of me from head to toe. I stopped breathing.

What was he going to do to me now?

After several seconds, he strode over to where I was sitting. Grabbing my chin, he forced my face up toward him.

“I see why my brother chose you,” he said. “It wasn’t only the petite build. You have those wide innocent eyes like hers. Eyes that can fool a man into believing—“ He stopped abruptly and released my chin. “What an ass my brother is.”

He paced over to where the drapes overlapped as though he was going to look outside. I hoped he’d open them so I could at least get my bearings, but he turned back toward me.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do need to release all this anger.” He paced back toward the bed until he towered over me. “I’m Dimitri. What’s your name?”

I took in a shaky breath. Looking into his dark gaze—fierce yet somehow vulnerable—I wanted to tell him the truth. But if I did, this would all be for nothing.

“Marissa,” I whispered.

He smashed his fist onto the headboard shelf behind me. I startled.

“If you insist on going by her name, I will treat you like she deserves to be treated… What is your name?”

I cleared my throat. “Marissa,” I said firmly.

His hand moved behind me, and I turned in time to see him grab the blindfold from the shelf. He tied it roughly around my eyes, then grabbed my wrist and pulled me off the bed.

“How do you feel about heights,
Marissa
?”

“I don’t really like them,” I replied.

“Ah, then you have something else in common with your namesake.” I heard the drapes open. Enough light filtered through my blindfold so I knew it was daytime.

There was a click and the sound of a glass door sliding open. As he pulled me through the doorway, a warm breeze caressed my skin. The concrete was cool under my bare feet.

“I hope you enjoy putting on a show.”

A show?
Could other people see us? Were we low enough to be seen from the street or could they see us through their windows? Or from their own balconies?

“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I’m not an exhibitionist.”

“Not an exhibitionist. Just a whore.”

“I’m not—” I couldn’t finish the sentence because I remembered again that, once I signed that contract at the auction house, I’d made myself a whore.