Claim Me (20 page)

“What the fuck is this?” he snarls, stalking into the kitchen just as I’m giving a tray of freshly baked meat pies to Diego. Stopping next to us, he gives the guard a furious look. “I warned you—”

“Lucas, it’s okay. I made enough for everyone,” I assure him. “Really, it’s fine. I don’t mind cooking for them. I enjoy it.”

“See? She’s fine with it.” Diego grins, snatching the tray out of my hands. “Thanks, princess. You’re the best.”

He sprints out of the kitchen, and Lucas turns toward me, jaw clenched. “What the fuck are you doing? It’s not your job to feed the guards. They have a cafeteria in the barracks, you know.”

“I know.” Impulsively, I step toward him and lay my hand on his hard jaw, feeling the muscles working under the stubble-roughened skin. “It’s okay, though. This is fun for me. I like it that the guards enjoy my cooking. It makes me feel…” I pause, searching for the right word.

“Useful?” Lucas says, his expression softening, and I nod, surprised that he pinpointed it so well.

He sighs and covers my hand with his before bringing my fingers to his mouth. Brushing his lips over my knuckles, he studies me, his expression now more troubled than angry. “Yulia, sweetheart… You are useful to
me
, okay? You don’t need to feed every person on this estate to prove your worth.”

I stare at him, my stomach inexplicably tight as he releases my hand. “What if I don’t want to be useful just to you?” I whisper. “What if I need more than to warm your bed and take care of your house? You know I finished a university for real, right?” I can see Lucas’s gaze darken as I speak, but I can’t stop, my voice growing stronger with each word. “I have a degree in English Language and International Relations, and I was an excellent interpreter as well as a spy. For six years, I lived in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world and interacted with the highest-ranked officials in the Russian government. I was always going places, doing things, and now I barely step foot outside your house because I don’t want Esguerra to remember that I exist.” I stop to draw in a breath, and realize that a muscle is ticking in Lucas’s jaw.

“Is that right?” he says, his voice deadly quiet. “You miss being a spy?”

I instantly curse my loose tongue. I should’ve known how Lucas would interpret my words. “No, of course not—”

“You miss fucking men on assignment?” He moves closer, backing me up against the kitchen counter.

My pulse spikes. “No, that’s not what I—”

His hand grips my throat, tightening just enough to let me feel the steely strength in those fingers. Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, “Or is it that I’m not enough for you?” His breath heats my skin, making my arms erupt in goosebumps. “Do you need more variety, beautiful?”

“No,” I choke out, my breathing turning shallow. A jealous Lucas is a terrifying thing. “That’s not it at all. I just meant that—”

“You’re mine,” he growls, raising his head to pin me with an arctic stare. “I don’t give a fuck what kind of life you led before. I caught you, tagged you, and you’re fucking mine. No man will ever touch you again, and if I want to keep you in a fucking cage for the rest of your life, I will. Understand?”

His grip on my neck loosens, but my throat closes up, the pain like a tidal wave crashing through me. For weeks, I’d existed in a bubble of domestic bliss, playing house with a man who views me as nothing more than a possession, a glorified sex slave he “tagged” with the trackers. Any other woman would’ve fought tooth and nail for her freedom, but I embraced my captivity like I’d been born to it, letting myself imagine our messed-up relationship could someday turn into something real.

In my longing for my captor’s love, I again built castles in the sand.

“I understand,” I manage to whisper through numb lips. “I’m sorry.”

Lucas releases me and steps back, his face still taut with anger, and I turn away, blindly reaching for some dishes to wash.

Our “honeymoon,” such as it was, is over.

T
hat night
, Lucas doesn’t come home until late, and Misha and I eat dinner by ourselves. I put on a happy mask for my brother, but I know he senses something off. It’s a relief to usher him out of the house with a batch of leftovers for the guards; more than anything, I want to be alone to lick my wounds.

I’m already finishing my shower when Lucas returns. He enters the bathroom just as I’m stepping out of the stall, and without saying a word, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me to the bedroom. His face is hard, his gaze shuttered as he walks, and the old unease slithers through me. I don’t think he’ll truly hurt me—physically, at least—but that doesn’t lessen my anxiety. Lucas in this mood is unpredictable, and I’m barely keeping myself together as is. For a brief, insane moment, I consider fighting him, but instantly dismiss the idea. It’s not like I stand a chance of actually winning. Besides, what would be the point of trying to resist? Like he said, I’m his to do with as he wants.

My life—and my brother’s—is in his hands.

If I could cling to the numbness that encased me this afternoon, it would’ve been easier, but everything is sharp and bright in my mind, every sensation painfully vivid. I feel the heat of his skin through our clothes and the way his arm muscles flex as he places me on the bed; I see the pale glitter of his eyes and smell his warm male scent. He bends over me, and my body comes to life, a familiar heat brewing low in my stomach. My nipples peak, my breasts aching for his touch, and my sex grows slick as he kisses me, his tongue invading my mouth with rough, demanding strokes. His large hands catch my wrists, pinning them above my head, and I close my eyes, willingly sinking into the heated oblivion of lust. My hurt and anxiety dissipate, and animal instinct takes over. Moaning, I arch against Lucas, rubbing my hardened nipples against his T-shirt, and my insides clench as I feel the thick bulge in his jeans pressing against my naked hip.

Yes, take me, fuck me, make me forget…
The erotic chant plays on a loop in my mind. For now, I don’t need to worry about the future, about my life with a man who views me as his exclusive toy. I don’t need to think about the fact that I may never be more than a vessel for his lust. I can just focus on his drugging kisses and the warm, heavy weight of his body on top of mine.

It’s only when he transfers my wrists into one of his hands and rummages in the bedside drawer with the other that I resurface enough to feel a flicker of unease. Opening my eyes, I tear my lips away from his. “Lucas, what are you—”

He cuts me off with another deep, devouring kiss, and in the next moment, I have my answer. A cold metal touches my left wrist, and then I hear a click as the handcuff locks in place. Gasping, I turn my head to the side and try to twist my other wrist out of his grasp, but Lucas uses my motion to turn me over onto my side and drag my handcuffed arm toward the metal pole he’d installed by the bed during the early days of my captivity. Straddling me, he loops the handcuff around the pole and grabs my other wrist, cuffing it before I can put up any real resistance.

My unease transforms into real fear. I’m lying on my side, naked and with my wrists handcuffed to the pole—just like old times.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice turns high and thin as I turn my head to gaze at Lucas, who’s now reaching for something else in the bedside drawer. “Lucas, don’t, please.” My hair is all over my face, interfering with my vision, and before I can shake it off, a soft dark cloth drops over my eyes.

“Shh,” Lucas whispers, tying it around my head. “You’re going to be fine, baby.”

Fine? He just handcuffed and blindfolded me. My pulse drums in my ears, my arousal dampened by panic. “Lucas, please… What are you going to do?”

Still straddling me, he leans down, and I feel his warm breath on the side of my face. “Do you love me?” he murmurs. His lips brush the rim of my ear, his tongue tracing over the outer edge. “Do you love me, Yulia?”

I swallow thickly. “Yes. You know I do.”

“Do you trust me?”

No.
The truth almost slips out, but I clamp my lips shut just in time. I don’t trust Lucas—I never have—but I’m certainly not about to admit it at the moment. I don’t know the rules of this new game, and until I do, I’m not going to play along.

“I see,” he murmurs, and I realize that my non-answer was an answer in itself. My heart rate speeds up further.

“Lucas, I—”

“It’s okay.” He bites my earlobe gently. “You don’t have to lie.” He moves off me, and I hear the sounds of clothes being removed, followed by that of the nightstand drawer being pulled out. I listen, straining, but I don’t hear anything else, and a moment later, Lucas turns me so that I’m lying on my back, my handcuffed arms pulled to one side.

I’m about to ask again what he’s planning to do, but he’s already moving down my body and pushing my legs apart, his powerful hands pinning my thighs to the mattress.

The first touch of his tongue on my folds is startlingly soft, a caress rather than an assault. It both disorients and disarms me. I’d been prepared for something frightening and brutal, but the leisurely strokes of his tongue on my labia and at the rim of my opening are nothing of the sort. He licks me like he has all the time in the world, his lips and tongue toying with my sensitive flesh for what feels like hours before he gets anywhere near my pulsing clit. By then, I’m soaking wet and moaning his name, my hips moving uncontrollably as my arousal returns in full force. If it weren’t for his hands holding down my thighs, I would’ve ground my sex against his mouth, forcibly taking the orgasm that shimmers just beyond my reach.

“Please, Lucas,” I beg as his tongue circles my clit with maddeningly light strokes. “Just a little more, please…”

To my surprise, he obliges, latching on to my clit with a sucking pull that I feel all the way down to my toes. A choked cry escapes my throat as my inner muscles tighten, and then the orgasm washes over me, sweeping away everything but the devastating pleasure. I come so hard that I see flickers of light, my hips almost coming off the bed despite the restraining pressure of his hands. The pulsations continue for several long moments, and when it’s all over, I’m left lying there, boneless and panting, wrung out by the sensations.

I know Lucas is not done with me yet, but I’m still startled when he flips me over onto my stomach, making the handcuffs clang against the metal pole. My arms are now stretched to the opposite side, and for the first time, the scary versatility of this kind of restraint dawns on me.

Lucas can do anything he wants to me, in any position, and I can’t do anything to stop him.

He straddles my legs, immobilizing them against the bed, and fear prickles at me again, chasing away some of the post-orgasm endorphins. A second later, I feel something cool and wet trickle between my ass cheeks and realize my anxiety is justified.

Lucas poured some lube on me.

“Don’t, please.” I yank at the cuffs chaining me to the pole, my heartbeat skyrocketing. “Please… not like this.”

“It’s okay, beautiful.” Ignoring my attempts to wriggle away, Lucas stuffs two thick pillows under my hips, propping me up so I’m almost on all fours. “I told you, you’re going to be fine.”

But I won’t be. I know that from experience. He’ll tear me, his cock too long and thick for my body to accept that way. He’s played with my ass several times in recent weeks, using his fingers and a couple of small toys, but he’s never pushed beyond that and I’d foolishly begun to hope that he wouldn’t, that he’d respect my wishes in that regard. I should’ve known better, of course.

His lust knows no boundaries when it comes to me.

He leans over me, the heat of his body warming my chilled skin, and I realize I’m trembling, my back covered with a layer of cold sweat. His hand strokes the side of my hip, and I flinch before I can control my reaction, my muscles locking tight in anticipation of the pain to come.

“Yulia…” He gathers my hair to the side, moving it off my sweat-dampened back, and I feel his lips brush over my nape at the same time as his stiff cock presses against my leg. “I won’t hurt you, baby, I promise.”

Not hurt me? I want to scream that it’s a lie, that he wouldn’t restrain and blindfold me if he intended to make love to me sweetly, but I don’t get a chance because at that moment, Lucas’s fingers slip between my legs and find my clit. Pressing on it gently, he kisses my neck again, and to my shock, I feel a twinge of something that’s not fear… a hot, tight pleasure that somehow coexists with my panic.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats, his words whisper soft as his lips trail over my shoulder, and some of my anxiety ebbs, melting away in the heat that’s starting to pulse through me. By now, Lucas knows everything about my body, and he uses that knowledge without qualms, his fingers teasing out sensations that should’ve been beyond my reach.

The second orgasm catches me by surprise, and I pant into the mattress as waves of pleasure ripple through me. I haven’t forgotten what awaits me, but it’s hard to cling to fear when one’s brain is swimming in endorphins. And Lucas is not done pleasuring me yet. His hand finds my pussy entrance, and one long finger pushes inside, unerringly locating my G-spot. Before long, the tension coils in my core again, and another orgasm, albeit a weaker one this time, rocks my body.

“No more, please,” I moan when his finger withdraws from my spasming channel and circles my swollen clit. “I can’t do it again.”

“Yes, baby, you can.” His teeth graze my neck, and then he whispers in my ear, “Again and again, as many times as it takes.”

It takes two more orgasms, as it turns out. Or at least that’s how many Lucas forces on me before my muscles turn to mush and I’m too exhausted to come again. By that point, I’ve stopped worrying about the dangerous slickness between my ass cheeks—I’ve stopped thinking, period. So when his fingers withdraw from my dripping-wet pussy and slide up between my cheeks, I just lie there, dazed and limp, barely reacting as two of those long fingers push into my ass, one after another, gliding in with almost no resistance.

“That’s it, sweetheart. There’s a good girl,” Lucas croons as I remain relaxed, accepting his two fingers without clenching. It’s still not my favorite sensation; the fullness feels odd and invasive, but there’s no pain and I’m too drained to resist as he begins to fuck my ass with those fingers, pumping them in and out slowly. “Such a good girl…” The smooth, gliding rhythm is strangely hypnotic, making me feel like my mind is disconnected from my body. Dimly, I’m aware that I should be afraid, that I should be protesting this violation, but it doesn’t seem worth the effort, particularly when Lucas’s other hand presses gently on my clit again, coaxing a twinge of pleasure from my overstimulated flesh.