CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(159)

Never taking his eyes from mine, he took a few items, then hooked a  strong arm around my waist and pushed up my maid's uniform. His lips  pressed a kiss on my hipbone, the wet tease of a tongue hidden by the  warm pressure of his mouth.

Every inch of me revolted but I didn't flinch.

Smirking, he let me go. "Thank you, Ms. Weaver."

It was the smirk that gave him away.

He's another Hawk.

The man nodded, sensing my connection to his pedigree. "I'm the second  brother," he said softly. "I doubt you know my name seeing as Jethro  gets to have all the fun-but I'll tell you-so you know who to scream for  when my older brother goes too far." He crooked his finger, hinting for  me to move closer.

Despite myself, I bent. There was something about this brother. Something different.

His light-brown eyes-a Hawk family trait it seemed-crinkled at the  corners as he said, "I'm Kestrel." Pointing at the tattoo on his arm, he  added, "Like the bird."

"Leave her alone, Kes. Other brothers want a turn." Jethro's demand snapped from behind.

Kestrel chuckled. "Easy there, Jet. Only playing with my food." He sat back, motioning me to continue.

How many sons did Mr. Hawk have? How many must I submit to when Jethro  had had enough of me? I didn't have the mental protection to sleep with  an entire family of evilness.

My eyes didn't linger on him and I wasn't permitted to speak, but I  wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know why I had a sense of  kinship-no matter how slight.

Tense, I darted around his chair, moving to my next customer.

The next man had piercings in his eyebrow and lower lip. Blue-black  hair, so similar to Vaughn's, tore my heart out as he bent his head over  my arm and dragged a pointed tongue toward my elbow.

V.

Tears threatened. V was everything to me. I couldn't stand to think of  him while this happened. I should've messaged him back. I was cruel to  leave him in distress.

Closing my eyes, I put one foot in front of the other, moving toward the next man.

And then the next.

And the next.

Each one thanked me once they'd tasted, acting like gentlemen rather the lair of monsters they truly were.

With every lick, I froze, standing tense and hating while they dragged their saliva all over my skin.

Thankfully, the lack of hunger tripped time, merging the men and tongues  into a merry-go-round of nightmares. I lost track of who licked where,  hiding myself away and focusing on the weight of my platter growing  lighter and lighter.

But not one person tasted my breasts or pussy.

It sent me into a state of uncomfortable awareness. They were men.  Taunting a woman who they'd been given permission to taste. Why hadn't  they gone for the prized locations?

The unknowing and waiting sent my skin crawling more than their eager tongues.

The next man I served was older with a greying moustache and wispy hair.  He licked my neck, nuzzling my hair before taking his fill of food.

I went to move, in a trance, to the next diner.

But the older man captured my hip and presented me with the next part of the parchment.

My trance evaporated, leaving me hungry for information. This was why I  permitted this. I let myself be governed by history. The double meaning  of the thought didn't escape me. You were taken because of history.  You're staying because of history.

The diamonds of my collar bit into my neck in agreeance.

Placing the platter on the table, I removed myself from the twenty-first century and proceeded to be swept to 1472.

For actions committed by Percy Weaver and his entourage of well-to-do  associates, he stands judged and wanting. His life is determined by the  grace of Bennett Hawk who states the following comeuppance:

Monetary compensation

Public apology

And most of all, bodily retribution

What a bastard. He couldn't let some petty grievance go?

He did save the entire family from hanging. Somehow he'd kept Percy  Weaver and my ancestors from swinging on a rope, and in a way I had to  be grateful. Grateful to a man who'd saved my bloodline but stolen my  future at the same time.

If this document had never been agreed upon, I would never have been  born. No one past Percy and Mary would've existed. It was hard to hate  someone who'd granted life, but easy to hate them for stealing countless  of those lives generations later.

"Keep going, Ms. Weaver," Jethro purred.

My head snapped up.

He stood there, wrapped in his horrible silence, watching me like a hunter.

I wanted to glower. I wanted to do something idiotic and stick my tongue  out at him. But there was no point making him hate me more than he  already did. The moment I could charge my phone, I would Google every  enticing come-hithers a woman could make.

I'll seduce him.

I'd enjoyed seeing his impeccable control snap by the stables. I loved that I was the one to do it.

I'll make him care.

I would turn this travesty into a prophecy by weaving my Weaver magic over a Hawk.

With strength building in my heart, I grabbed my tray.

Moving forward on unsteady knees, I looked greedily at the next piece of  paper. It sat coyly in the centre of the table, beckoning.

The next man to taste me was a young boy, barely out of his teens. His  touch was gentle, tongue barely licking. He was my favourite from the  table.

After another two licks, I hoped I deserved the next scrap of parchment,  but no one gave it to me. My heart sank as I completed a full rotation,  squeezing my eyes as each tongue inched closer to the places I wished  were covered.

I couldn't stop shivering when I placed the empty platter on the  sideboard. Resting my palms on the hard surface, I breathed deep. Tears  pressed on the back of my eyes, disgust rolled in my stomach growling  with desperate hunger. This was torture on so many levels. Delivering  food to well-fed men all the while they feasted on me, too.         

     



 

"The main course, if you will, Nila," Mr. Hawk muttered.

I looked over my shoulder. He sat there, running his fingers through his  goatee. His golden eyes, so like Jethro's, held no patience or  tolerance but his lips tilted in mirth. He was enjoying this.

Of course he was. They all were.

Including my main tormentor.

Pushing off from the sideboard, I collected a large silver tray of  chicken and asparagus. Keeping my eyes down, I deliberately kept the  tray high and outstretched, giving me a shield in which to pass Jethro.

Not that it helped.

His arm shot out, stopping me. I cursed the familiarity of his touch.  Screamed at the horrible way my body remembered the pleasure he'd  granted by the stables. I wanted nothing from him. Especially the memory  of his fingers.

I glared into his eyes. Stay silent.

It was hard.

I had so much I wanted to say. So much to yell. The side of my head  still throbbed from his strike; my ego still hurt from not knowing how  to jerk him off the way he desired. He made me feel like a rejected  little girl.

Bowing close, he whispered in my ear, "I'm enjoying watching you be so  obedient, Ms. Weaver. And your silence … " He brushed my hair away from my  cheek, fingertips lingering on my neck. " … is making me hard."

I sucked in a gasp, looking to the front of his trousers despite myself.  The outline of his massive cock that terrified me-more than his hands,  temper, or god-awful silence-stood firm and bulging against his jeans.

He smiled. "Keep up the good work and you might get two rewards this  evening." His eyes darkened. "Because we both know you want me to finish  what I started."

My gasp turned to a growl. I couldn't fathom how my stomach swooped even  while sickness swirled. Damn my traitorous body for finding his evil  beauty attractive.

Are you sure you want to seduce him just for protection? I hated the question. I hated that I didn't have an answer.

Jerking away from his arm, I stalked toward my starting position.  Standing beside Mr. Hawk, I served him first. The moment he'd taken a  few morsels, I moved to leave, but he pinched my pinafore, keeping me  still.

His eyes met mine and I knew, just knew, this serving round wouldn't be  my arms, neck, or hips up for a taste. This would be worse. Much worse.

"Face me, girl," he ordered.

My teeth chattered, but I slowly did as he requested.

"Lean down."

Closing my eyes, I obeyed.

His hot breath clouded over my chest before a wet, warm mouth latched  onto my nipple. A graze of teeth, a swipe of a tongue-it all drove me to  the pinnacle. The pinnacle where I knew I would burn in hell for not  only permitting it, but for the tiny flutter of need that had burst into  life while his son drove his finger inside me.

My head pounded as I shoved the betrayal away. I was the one who  betrayed myself. I was the one not strong enough to fight Jethro. He'd  won the moment I saw him and let my need for touch consume me.

Tears tickled my spine and the moment Mr. Hawk pulled way, I ran.

I didn't get far.

Orange Tattoo, who sat next to Mr. Hawk caught me, holding me tight.  "Now, now. You're doing so well. Don't ruin it." His large hand splayed  on my shoulder blades, jerking me to his sitting level. With a tight  smile, his mouth latched onto my dry nipple.

I whimpered as his large soppy lips sucked. He took his time, swirling  his tongue around the hard bud, before letting go in a loud slurp.