CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(147)

Leaning down, he grabbed my long hair, jerking it hard. "Did you  honestly think, after an outburst like that, that you'd deserve the  comfort of a bed? Why do it, Ms. Weaver, when you knew what was on the  line?"

I couldn't speak. My throat was pulled back, the pressure stopping all sounds and swallows.

"I have a good mind to fuck you right here. To smash whatever sense of entitlement or hope you're holding onto." He shook me.

My eyes watered at the pain.

"You're not hearing me. This is your life now. I am your only friend. Stop. Pissing. Me. Off."

You're not my friend. I have one, and his name isn't Jethro.

Kite.

I didn't think I'd want to message him so soon, but I needed someone  from the outside world. I needed reminding that the universe hadn't  entered an alternate dimension and there was still hope.

When I remained silent, Jethro snarled, "You're sleeping with the dogs.  They have better obedience than you, perhaps you can learn from them on  what we expect."

I sniffed, fighting so hard against the tears.

I didn't even care that I wouldn't sleep in a bed. I was past worrying  about sanitary conditions or nutritious food. All I wanted was freedom.  All I needed was some time alone to gather my scattered self-worth and  remember who I was.

"Move," Jethro breathed, his beloved silence smoothing his outburst from before. "Don't make me show you how a good dog moves."

He wants you to crawl.

It had begun.

This was the beginning. And I'd brought it upon myself.

He wants to destroy you.

Using my hair as the leash, Jethro paced beside me as I went from  stationary to crawling. I crawled like an animal. I crawled like a pet. I  crawled through manicured gardens, past ponds, and statues, all the way  from manor to kennel.





I STRETCHED, LOOKING up at my ceiling. The plasterwork around the huge chandelier never failed to let me know who I was.

A Hawk.

The intricate rosettes and architraving was a testament to my namesake.  Birds of prey swooped, hunted, and devoured small animals from above.

My hard cock lay heavily against my stomach. My hands clenched beneath  my head. I was so fucking close to breaking the rules and taking Nila  last night. She'd pushed me too far. I'd wanted to see how smart her  mouth could be with my dick jammed down her throat.

I should've taken her.

Removing my hand from beneath my pillow, I grasped my morning wood and  stroked. My eyes snapped closed as I imagined a different outcome to  last night.

Nila's pink plump lips opening. Me sliding inside her mouth. My balls  tightening as her timid tongue welcomed my cock. She'd lick me just like  she'd done my thumb. Eager, inexperienced-a novice with so much to  give.

I'd rock forward, holding her head, giving her no choice but to take more of my length.

I'd thrust harder, driving her from accepting to choking.

Fuck.

My hand worked tight and fast. The large bed creaked as I arched my  back, giving into the fantasy of blowing down Nila Weaver's throat.

Fuck, yes. Take it. Yes.

My quads tightened, and I groaned as the first spasm of release shot from my balls, creating a sticky mess on my stomach.

Choke on it. Love it.

Fantasy Nila kept sucking me, drawing another wave of pleasure. I liked  her a lot more with my cock in her mouth. She was silent. Incapacitated.

I shivered as the last spurt of my orgasm joined the mess. I opened my eyes.

"Goddammit." I hadn't meant to do that. I should've summoned a club  whore to come and suck me off. Masturbating wasn't necessary when there  were countless willing women ready to service me at the snap of my  fingers.

Fuck it. It was a long night. I deserved a little … unwinding.

It's going to be an even longer day.

I might've blown my load with an imaginary vision of Nila on her knees,  but it would soon become real. Today, Nila would be initiated. She'd be  welcomed. And not just by me.

I wonder how frustrating she'll be when three men use her at the same time.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I prowled across the thick red carpet toward my private bathroom.

I smiled, perversely happy with the day's upcoming activities. The next  few weeks weren't about debt repaying or vengeance, they were about  hospitality and welcoming a new Weaver into the Hawk household. She had  much to learn, her place to recognise, and all thoughts of who she was  torn from her soul and burned.         

     



 

I'd use her. My father would use her. My two younger brothers would use  her. Shit, it was open season for the first few weeks until she snapped  and went from fighting to docile. Then the repayments would begin.

After spending some time alone with her, I knew the handful she was.  Despite her disobedience, I rather liked her fire. Pity that fire would  snuff out almost instantly. She'd probably crack on the first activity.

I paused, searching inside to see if I cared. To see if I had enough ice  inside to do everything expected of me. She was pretty, I had to admit.  She had a certain intrigue. But she was just a woman.

A woman who confuses you.

Scowling, I shoved the thought away. She confused me which wasn't a good thing. It was almost as bad as surprising me.

One moment she seemed so sure and strong. The next she was brittle and  breakable. And her bloody vertigo was getting on my goddamn nerves.

No. I was more than happy to let my fellow brothers share the work in  ruining her. It would be over faster, and I could go back to my life  before I knew of the stupid scroll stained with the blood of the first  Weaver woman.

The sun spilled like a golden carpet, leading the way from bed to  shower. My room was vacant of personal touches but reeked in history of  past owners. Rococo style dressers, Victorian designed chairs. The  wallpaper was embossed maroon leather with gold accents.

The entire space was brooding and temperamental. I would've preferred  clean lines. White-which was the silence of the colour palette-with  stone furniture and metal chairs. I liked to be surrounded by an  unfeeling atmosphere but I'd never be permitted to change this area.

It was sacred.

All because it'd been the bedroom of all Hawk men who'd inherited a  Weaver woman. Their last breath was taken in this room. It held the  ghosts of Nila's ancestors and would one day absorb hers, too.

The birthday present of new spurs and a heinously wicked whip glinted on  the eighteenth century sideboard. At the time, I'd thought it was a  piss poor present for turning twenty-nine, but in retrospect I'd have a  lot of fun using them on Nila rather than my horse.

The best present was due next year. The true inheritance I'd been  waiting for. One much better than a woman or her tears or even the  permission to draw her blood. When I turned thirty, I would own it all.

Everything. All mine.

The fantastic ruling of Primogeniture meant as firstborn son, I  inherited the lot. My brothers wouldn't get penny. My sister not a  single diamond. They would survive by my charity. Just like my father.

The brotherhood. The mines. The yachts. The cars. Hawksridge. And every property overseas.

Mine.

Bryan Hawk, Cut to those in the Black Diamond brotherhood, would be  second to me. The way of our ancestors ensured young authority remained  in control of an estate that'd spilled enough blood to fill a moat  around our gates.

My father would retire, and I would be king.

I'd upgrade from living in the bachelor wing with its pool room,  theatre, office, weaponry, solarium, six bedrooms, and six bathrooms to  having the pick of a fifty room, two ballroom, and a dungeon-equipped  house to play in.

And by play, I meant make women scream.

That was the only time they were allowed to break my rule of quietness. The only time I enjoyed their begging.

Collecting new clothing from my walk-in wardrobe, I glimpsed myself in  the mirror. My lips curled in disgust at the sticky mess on my stomach. I  had a good mind to get Nila and make her lick me clean.

That was her fault.

My mind drifted back to her-against my will. She'd not only taken up  valuable space in my head, but my day's structure as well. There would  be no hunting today or inspecting the latest diamond shipment.

There'd be no business or travel.

All my energy and focus belonged to the woman who was a waste of my time.

Another daydream of forcing her to her knees stopped me on the outskirts  of the bathroom. Would she cry or scream as I fucked her from behind?  Perhaps she'd surprise me again and moan in ecstasy. I planned on taking  her that way-the animalistic way. After all, she did spend the night  with the dogs. It would only be fitting.

Dumping my clothes on the vanity, I strode into the four-headed quartz shower. I had no need to strip. I slept naked.

Always did.

It was part of the rules.

Living at Hawksridge, the grandest and most exclusive motorcycle club  compound in all of England, came with strict unbreakable rules. Our  brotherhood was different. We were smart, cunning, focused.

Any man found sleeping with clothes on was in for a night of pain. We  might have left the dark ages behind but my family upheld strictness.

We made our fortune in the most transferable precious item there was.  And we'd learned a lot from past mistakes on how to treat those who  tried to steal them.