Devlin UnLeashed(52)

He could control me.

I’d lose myself and he would have all the power if I weren’t careful.

~*~*~

He returned hours later. The weight of his gaze was heavy upon my skin as the minutes stretched. I resisted the urge to shift around uncomfortably, lest he knew his effect on me. It was raining outside. The wind whirled and the droplets battered against the window. The resounding cracks of thunder did not frighten me as much as his eerie silence.

What was he thinking?

Did I push him so far he’d come back to finish what he’d started?

My heart beat frantically, with fear, with anticipation. I wanted him to release me and let me go home, but I wondered if I would miss his voice, his touch, miss our little game of tell-all. He’d locked me in a room, strapped me to a bed, and I’d spent the whole time thinking of him.

Who hired him to kidnap me?

What did he want?

Was he going to hurt me?

My curiosity grew when he started interacting with me. And the questions changed.

Who was he?

Why was he this way?

Who’d hurt him?

I spent every waking hour thinking of him, and when I slept, I saw his face. It was always different, but I knew it was him when he’d touch me. When you let someone be your only thought, it began to consume you. In a few short days, he’d become the only thing that existed in my world, and I hated him so much I could taste the bile in my mouth, yet still pushed to learn more. Unfortunately, the more I knew, the less I hated. And I needed that hate. It was the only defense I had against him.

I startled as I felt his cold fingers at the band that bound my wrist. The thick piece of leather loosened, and he proceeded to rub the ache from my bones. He did this daily, and I’d learned the more I fought him, the less time I’d spend with my arms free.

This time, I let my aggravation and anger rule over me and did something that could change my fate—or get me killed if he wasn’t the man I thought he was. I yanked my blindfold from my face and blinked several times as I tried to bring anything into focus in the dark room. The only thing I could make out was a dark shadow hovering over me. After days with no use, white spots danced across my vision as I tried to see anything.

“Do you have a fucking death wish?” He was angrier than I’d ever heard him. He balled my hair in his hand and yanked it back until it stung. Tears formed in my eyes. He attempted to pry the blindfold from my fingers, but I held on as if my life depended on it. Lightning flashed through the window and in that small flash of light, I realized he was smarter than I was. He wore a ski mask. All identifying qualities were obscured under black clothing and a mask. He was prepared for me to do this, probably was every single time he untied me. I had nothing, or at least he thought that, because in those several seconds, I’d focused in on the one thing I wanted to see from the second night here. His eyes. Sinfully dark brown eyes. The blindfold broke free from my fingers, and within seconds was secured around my eyes again. “Pull that shit again and you’re dead.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He knew I was lying because he’d looked me right in the eyes.

He dragged me off the bed, twisted my arms behind my back, and secured my wrist with rope. I stumbled as he pulled me across the room, but he didn’t pause. When we finally came to a stop, I heard the shower turn on. Then he released his hold on my arm and walked away. I was too scared to move. He was too angry for me to try anything else. I saw it in his eyes. Dark anger.

Suddenly, he was back. Cool metal touched my skin followed by the sound of scissors cutting off every piece of clothing I wore. I wanted to scream at him. Tell him to fuck off, but I bit down on my tongue and pretended to not care that I stood bare in front of him.

After everything was off, he took too long to say or do anything.

Oh, God… He was ogling me. I could fucking feel his dirty gaze passing over my skin. I wanted to hit him, to lash out at him, but I had no use of my hands so I stopped holding my tongue.

“Does it make your cock hard, asshole?”

Big, rough hands snaked around my waist, yanked me forward until I collided with his solid frame. And he was hard. Everywhere. I turned my head away as if that would help me ignore his closeness. I couldn’t see anyway, but I could feel my naked breast pressed against the hard expanse of his chest. The length of his erection, which I’d just referred to, pressed against my belly.

“Does that answer your question?”

I ignored him. He ground his rigid cock against me, and I tried to back away, but his hold was ironclad. His lips were at my neck. “I’m not your friend, Juliana.”

It was the first time I’d heard him speak my name, and I shuddered as the words danced across my skin. His fingers skimmed across my ass—the intimate touch causing goose pimples to form all over my skin. “I’m your kidnapper, I’m a fucking predator, and unless you want me to fuck you until you’re raw... Stop fucking pushing me!”