Read His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire, BDSM Erotic Romance) Online

Authors: Aphrodite Hunt

Tags: #ransom, #rescue, #submission, #bondage, #domination, #erotic romance, #bdsm, #escape, #billionaire romance, #kidnap, #oral sex

His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire, BDSM Erotic Romance) (3 page)

BOOK: His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire, BDSM Erotic Romance)
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Channing has never applied to his mouth to her erotic parts before. He has always been more of a finger person. She has never minded because he has brought her to the edge every time and more with merely what he chose to do. If there has been one thing she’d wanted from him, it would be for him to kiss her on the mouth.

But why is she thinking of Channing in the past tense?

She watches Hugh with a mixture of fear and desire as he undresses. The desert rose tattoo is very prominent above his right nipple.

“What really happened?” she says as he lowers his mouth to her pussy. “What did he do?”

He does not reply as he slathers his tongue over her quivering nether lips. A thrill flowers within her warm wedges, especially as he laves her glistening clit. She is doubly sensitized because she is so open. Her juices are pouring in a deluge from her hole.

He doesn’t seem to care. He laps her creams and pushes his tongue into her slit. She lets out a gasp of pleasure. Her fists bunch at their tethered posts.

He continues to assault her folds and orifice, sliding his tongue in between her labia and clit and digging in mercilessly. Paeans of erotic sensation stream and undulate all over her pussy. Oh, it has been so long since a man has gone down on her. She has almost forgotten what it’s like. His tongue strokes are clever and very, very invasive. He adds his fingers into the mix, tweezing her clit and inner lips and wriggling into her hole.

She starts to pant. Her senses are being stimulated all at once by the morass of his probing body parts. Her climax is starting to build. He massages her clit, squeezing its tender little morsel of a hood now and again. Each time he does that, he sends a wave of exquisite pleasure cresting throughout her pubic mound, so much so that it becomes a slow, wavelike build – each wave buoyed by a gradual increase in its peaks.

She arches her back and sinks into the bed. Her bonds are very tight and her legs are very stretched. This proffers her pussy to his skillful lips and tongue even more. He licks, sucks, nips and nibbles, and all the while he is thrusting two fingers in and out of her pussy in a semblance of fornication.

Oh, she’s going to come. She writhes and wriggles, whipping her head back and forth on the pillow for the sheer pleasure of what he’s making her feel. She has no right to feel this way. He is after all her tormentor and a deranged psychopath.

A killer.

Just like Channing.

Her road to her orgasm mounts. Rising, cresting, rolling upwards like an unstoppable wheel with enough momentum to reach the top. Her breathing escalates – little short sharp bursts of hunger.

And then he stops.

Oh fuck,
she thinks.

“Let me guess,” he says. He looks up at her from narrowed blue eyes, his chin slick with her creams. “He doesn’t eat pussy.”

She wonders how much he knows about his brother. Her heart is still thudding so hard that she is sure it will break her ribs. Will he hurt her? Will he fuck her? Will he hurt her as he fucks her?

“To answer your question before I was so enticingly engaged by your cunt, he tried to kill me.”

She breathes in. This is where she must exercise judgment.
He blames me for something I didn’t do
, Channing’s voice echoes through the cavern of her memories.

“How so?” she says.

He pushes himself up her body so that he’s right on top of her. His eyes bore into hers like drill bits.

“We were in Iraq. It was the last days of the war. There was killing everywhere. Looting, pillaging, raping. Channing was a captain in the US army. Decorated war hero.” Hugh’s tone is bitter. “I flew in as a freelance photographer to capture what I can. That’s when the news trickled over that someplace east of Baghdad, a warlord – a mighty rich one sitting on an Iraqi Fort Knox of gold bullion – was drowning women who didn’t obey his commands in swimming pools. Word has it they were his wives.”

Channing has never told her the story in such detail before, and she now listens with bated breath. Hugh’s magnificent cock is poised at her entrance. She tenses. Her pussy is wet for him even as her mind rages against what he is about to do. It’s such a dichotomy.

He spears into her. The rush of hot flesh expands her walls so suddenly that she shrieks.

“Channing rounded up a posse. I tagged along. The US military to the rescue again.”

He begins to thrust into her without allowing her to get used to his cock’s width.

“We arrived there at the citadel, expecting a blood bath. Instead, the warlord welcomed us with cautious but open arms. He knew Baghdad would fall. He wanted to be on our good side so that he can keep whatever ill-gotten gains he siphoned off the people during Saddam’s reign. Or so he reckoned.”

He’s panting slightly as he talks. It’s amazing. She hasn’t met anyone who can fuck and tell a story at the same time.

“Everything we heard about the drowned women were lies, he told us. He showed us several women covered in burqa and assured us they were his wives. He could have shown us the maids for all we knew and we wouldn’t know the difference.

“And then out came his daughter, Alia.”

His breath stills as he says this. This is significant, she knows. Another major jigsaw piece falls from the sky.

“The warlord nicknamed her Desert Rose. She was as beautiful as the setting sun. She was his favorite.” His tone is one of awe.

She looks into Hugh’s eyes, which are now distant. Oh my God, she thinks, her pulse slamming against her neck. He must have loved her. Susan pictures her face, dusky and exotic in the moonlight. She must have been beautiful, slender.

Hugh continues, “Alia was no wilting flower who would blend into the background. She held an astrophysics degree from Stanford. She had an IQ through the roof. We both fell in love with her, Channing and I. As fate would have had it, she fell in love with both of us.”

His face twitches with pain.

“But more with Channing, I believe. He was the commanding officer. He was dashing in his uniform, brimming with authority and American G.I. power. We both fucked her in secret. She came to both our rooms at night, trying to keep her affair with either one of us secret from everyone else. Including the both of us. But we both knew, even though we never spoke about it.

“Channing had his own agenda in mind, and it was not exactly in line with the US army’s. We were supposed to declare everything we found to Uncle Sam so that our government would take it . . . nah, steal it . . . so they can buy more arms and sack more countries. Channing thought Uncle Sam should spread some of the spoils.”

His fucking escalates in rigor. His breathing comes out in gasps now. In this position, the head of his cock is angled at her G-spot. It knocks into her repeatedly, each slam a sledgehammer of purpose. Oh, oh, oh, oh. She grunts each time he thrusts into her.

He’s getting rougher.

“He found the gold bullion, buried in secret vaults in the dungeons. Then it all went to shit. The warlord found out about us and Alia. He went berserk. He said we had dishonored him as guests. We had broken the laws of hospitality. He threw us into the dungeons. He tortured us and Channing’s men.”

Hugh goes still when he says this, pausing in mid-fuck. She has a vivid picture of the beautiful twins chained to the stone dungeon walls and being whipped, their naked bodies gleaming with sweat.

Oh my God . . . is that why Channing’s sexual needs are so entrenched in bondage and domination? Were the boys
compromised
in any way during their stint in the dungeons?

“But he didn’t kill us. I think he didn’t want to bring down the wrath of the American military onto the citadel. The warlord decided to cut a deal with Channing as the captain. He let Channing go. What they discussed, we were not privy to. But the next thing I knew, the warlord had let everyone go except for me.”

He turns his dead blue eyes to her and begins to rock his hips again.

“So you see, Channing left me there to rot. And I don’t know why. He has always been the favorite son. He has always been the brilliant one, the popular one. He has no reason to want me out of the way. And yet he still did it.”

Her gut wrenches. She has no doubt that Hugh believes this is exactly what happened. And she can understand why he is so freaking pissed.

Hugh continues, “I don’t quite know what happened next, but there was a fire in the citadel. I was left there in my dungeon. But the fire eroded a portion of the wall and I managed to escape. I have no doubt Channing orchestrated the whole thing. He took the gold, killed everyone – or so he thought – so that there would be no witnesses to what he and his remaining friends did. He left even Alia, who loved him more than life itself.”

Susan’s mind is churning. Even as her erotic senses are being massaged to distraction, her brain tumbles with information overload. Did Channing really do this? But why, why, why? She remembers what Channing told her.

There was a shootout. We lost eight of our men. The citadel went up in flames. Hugh was trapped inside. I tried to find him, but the fire was too horrific, too hellish. We had to run for our lives. So I left him in there and mourned him for dead.

Nothing of what Hugh has said contradicts with this version at all. In fact, Channing left out huge swathes of the story. The only difference – yet unexplained – was Channing’s actual motive.

Did he really do everything Hugh said he did?

She doesn’t know Channing at all. Only that she is hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him, God help her.

“So you see,” Hugh says, bearing down on her as he races towards his climax, “your boyfriend is a murderer. And he would very likely get you murdered too.”

His throbbing cock focuses on her G-spot. He cores her so effectively that she has no choice but to send herself over the edge. As her mind explodes in a white-hot guilty frenzy of fireworks and sparks, he bends down his head to seize her mouth in a ravenous kiss.

This is so, so, so twisted, but she has no choice but to let him come inside her too.

I don’t believe Channing is a murderer.

I don’t believe Channing left you and Alia to burn.

I refuse to believe it.

But at the back of her head, a little hammer chips away at her resolve, creating a crater of doubt.

What if everything Hugh said is true?

3

 

For three more days, she is a prisoner in her room without hearing any updates from Channing. Her soul has withdrawn into its shell. Her heart has broken and scattered in a million little pieces.

Meanwhile, her deadline is looming. If Channing doesn’t pay up, she will be dead in the most creative of ways.

Hugh was right.

Channing doesn’t care about her. Doesn’t care enough to raise half a billion dollars to save her ass, which he hardly knows anyway. Why should he, right? If he has murdered so many people in cold blood, as Hugh said he had, then what is the value of her fucking meager life?

She has lived all her life burning the candle at both ends. Her dreams and ambitions have always been tied up in corporate America. Until she met Channing. And in a whirlwind, she suddenly realized she had never really lived before.

Never really loved before.

But is he worth loving?

Her mind keeps rotating with the possibilities. Is he? Is he not? Did he? Did he not? Will he? Will he not? And after all that, the end result is the same. She’s crushed with not knowing what will happen.

Tick tock, tick tock. Her hourglass is about to run out.

She thinks she will go mad staring out of that window. Her prison is on the third floor, and there are iron bars slung across every aperture. She can’t sleep at nights, so she has taken to asking for sleeping pills from Miguel.

“But sir . . . he will be angry,” he says, frightened.

“Please, Miguel, please.”

She looks so haunted that he reluctantly agrees. He slips her some pills which he has procured without Hugh’s knowledge.

“Thank you,” she says, tears in her eyes.

He shakes his head and quickly leaves.

Hugh visits her three times a day. Each day, he fucks her and makes her fellate him. He ties her in all sorts of positions and fucks her thoroughly in each one.

Today, he comes in with Miguel once again carrying a laptop.

Her heart leaps.

Hugh says, “Guess what? Your boyfriend paid up . . . twelve hours early . . . but only half of it.”

“What?”

She can’t believe Channing actually paid two hundred and fifty million dollars. For her!

Miguel places the laptop on the desk. He does not look at her.

Channing is on the other side.

“Hugh,” he is saying, “I need more fucking time.”

Hugh grabs her and shoves her in front of the screen. “You’re out of time.”

“I have twelve hours more. Susan, are you hurt?” Channing’s concerned eyes are bloodshot and there are dark circles around them. He looks as if he hasn’t slept in days.

BOOK: His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire, BDSM Erotic Romance)
3.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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