Claimed Harder, page 16
Darren grudgingly relents.
I look around for my shoe. Darren finds it and hands it to me. “Not a bad weapon.”
The heel is broken, so Cheryl offers to fetch a new pair of shoes from our room. Sharon accompanies me and Darren to the clinic, where I get sewn up. I overhear Darren talking to JD on the phone.
“You know what’ll happen if I see him again,” Darren says.
“Don’t worry. We got him set up at a different resort,” JD replies.
“I have to apologize to the bride and groom,” I say later as we head back to the resort.
“Why?” Darren asks, disgruntled. “Mok started it.”
“It’s still the polite thing to do. I hope they don’t feel like we ruined their wedding reception.”
Darren doesn’t say anything. I get the feeling he’s still brewing over what else he wants to do to Joseph.
“What matters is that you’re okay right now,” Sharon says.
Back at the villa, I change into one of the bathrobes and try to wash the stain from Elaine’s drink out of the dress. After hanging it up, I examine my stitches in the mirror, running my finger over the unevenness of my lip.
“Don’t pick at it,” Darren says from the doorway.
“I wasn’t,” I object. “I’ve just never had stitches before. Broke my arm trying to skateboard, but no stitches.”
Darren walks over, cups my jaw and looks over my stitches. “Guess this means I don’t get to kiss you for a while.”
I smile. “That’s okay. There’s plenty of other things you can do instead.”
His eyes glimmer. “You got that right.”
Chapter 26
DARREN
Past
* * *
“You want to put a hit on Mok?” JD asks the following day.
Sitting on a lounge chair near the infinity pool with the midday sun glaring down at me, I entertain the idea for a second before replying, “Not worth it. If he had raped Bridge, then yes.”
“How about a brutal beating?”
“It won’t be satisfying unless I do it myself.”
JD eyes a young woman in a skimpy bikini sitting at the swim-up bar.
“Where’s Amy?” I ask.
“Still asleep.”
The young woman smiles at JD, prompting him to say, “I’m gonna cool down in the water a bit.”
After JD goes in, I decide to swim in the lap pool. I can’t seem to settle my nerves. Every time I think about Mok, my blood pressure rises.
After several laps of IM, I feel a little better and return to my lounge chair and towel off.
My mother comes up to me. “How’s Bridget?”
“She’s working on some grant application, but she should be up here soon. She wants the chance to say goodbye.”
My mother nods. “She’s more interesting than I first thought. Still not the right girl for you, though. I’m surprised you’re with a wonky type to begin with.”
I put on my sunglasses and lie back. “Who says I need a ‘right’ girl? If I follow in Dad’s footsteps, I’m better off with no one.”
“You’re right about that, especially since you can’t keep her out of trouble even with people who aren’t gangster. Joseph Mok is a nobody.”
“He touched what belongs to me.”
I think I spoke too emphatically, because my mother looks taken aback. I rub my temple. I know I’m the real reason Bridget has a split lip. If I hadn’t gone after Mok, she wouldn’t have stitches. I’m also fully aware I’m angry at myself, but I don’t have any issues taking it out on Mok.
My mother continues, “You’d be better off not taking after your dad and being with a girl who’s more simple.”
“What do you mean by ‘simple.’ Bridget’s not complicated.”
My mother furrows her brow. “Yeah, but she has her own goals. She’s not just going to sit around supporting whatever you do all the time, especially if what you’re doing involves more with the Jing San.”
I recall how Bridget didn’t stand around screaming like the other women. She jumped right into the fray. I smile. “No, she definitely didn’t just sit around while I was trying to beat the shit out of Mok.”
“She could have been hurt worse.”
“You that worried about her?”
“I’m worried about you. What happens if you fall in love?”
I try to imagine what that would be like. I remember having a pretty bad crush on a girl in high school, then thinking I was in love with Jade Huang, who does bookkeeping for many triad members, but the emotions faded after a few months. That’s about as close as I’ve come to being in love.
“You worry too much,” I finally tell my mother.
“Do I? Maybe it’s already happened?”
“What’s already happened” I ask with exasperation.
“Maybe you’ve already fallen in love.”
I don’t respond. Women. They make such a big deal about everything. And I’ve done enough for my mother. I finished school for her. I stepped away from my father’s legacy in the triad. So far.
There’s no fucking way I’m giving up Bridget. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Shit.
My mother might be right.
Chapter 27
DARREN
Present
* * *
Despite the coolness of the basement, I feel warm. Very warm. Probably from the heat of my arousal combined with the heat of my anger as I stare down at Bridget. I kick aside any sympathy I feel seeing her with her legs forcefully folded by rope bondage, her arms bent with her wrists tied behind her neck and secured to a rope crotch, her face marked with my cum.
I can’t believe I fell in love with this woman. That might be what I’m most angry about, and I’m pretty damn angry that she ran out on me.
My mother warned me about her. And she was right about Bridget. But stupid fucking me had to have her. I can’t believe I was such a pathetic fool. Ready to turn my world upside down for her. Wanting to give her the best that I could. What a moron. What. A. Fucking. Moron.
“You like that?” I ask her, referring to the deep-throating, as I zip up my jeans. Not that she ever excelled at the skill, but she’s definitely out of practice.
I smear some of the cum on her cheek down to her lips and push it in. “Taste good?”
“You know I love your cum,” she says.
I snort. The old me would have believed that. I fist my hand into her hair and yank her head back. “Don’t fucking patronize me.”
“I—I missed it. I miss…us.”
I can feel my anger boil. What “us?” She’s the one who left.
Instead of pointing that out, I respond, “Yeah? You got anything else you want to tell me?”
“I miss you how good you made me come. I miss all the crazy shit you did to my body.”
“Like what?”
“Like the sounding.”
I remember how nervous she was her first time, but she liked it.
“What else?”
“The rope bondage, the anal plugs, the wax play.”
“We did a lot, didn’t we?”
She nods earnestly.
“It was fun, wasn’t it?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I grab her throat and snarl in her face, “Bullshit.”
If she liked it so much—if she really wanted to be with me—why did she leave?
She looks bewildered. “Why don’t you believe me? You think I faked all those orgasms?”
“I believe I had you all wrong. I believed you were the good girl. But I guess the fact that you were into my kink and BDSM means you’re actually a naughty girl. A very naughty girl.”
Her eyes are large as she stares back at me. “I liked everything you did. I really did!”
Stop fucking lying to me!
In disgust, I step back from her and look away. I want to get my emotions under control. If I listen to her any longer, I might actually believe her. She sounds so fucking sincere. I might fall for her innocent tone.
I turn back to face her. “You said you liked everything I did?”
She nods.
“Well, you’re in luck. I sent Marshall to pick up a few things. We’ll see just how much you liked it all.”
I walk over to where I left the suitcase, which I open to reveal some BDSM essentials: a flogger, wand, nipple and clit camps, ball gag, Ben Wa balls, dildo and lube.
“Remember all this fun stuff?”
She looks at them thoughtfully before nodding. “You introduced me to a lot, Darren.”
For some reason, I don’t like her speaking my name. She doesn’t have the right to use my name.
Seeing my grim look and raised brows, she corrects herself. “Sir.”
Picking up the hood she wore before, I put it back over her head. The deprivation of sight will keep her guessing in addition to enhancing her sense of touch.
I unwrap the bonds around her legs, then grab her by the arm and drag her over to the table. It’s heavy and sturdy. I disengage the rope around her wrists from the crotch rope, pull her upper body over the table, and secure the end of the rope binding her wrists to a leg of the table. Her ass is positioned just off the table’s edge. Next, I bind her ankles to opposite legs of the table before undoing the crotch rope.
I slip my hand between her thighs. She’s still wet there, though probably somewhat sore or numb from the crotch rope. I give her rump a smack before returning to the suitcase. After selecting the ball gag, I walk over to the head of the table, pull her chin down and push the ball into her mouth. The fabric of the hood is trapped between her tongue and the ball, which will probably dry out her mouth. But why should I care about her comfort?
I go for the duotone Ben Wa balls, hollow with weights inside, and watch her body jump as I slide them along her slit and tease her clit before inserting them into her pussy. I spank her several times to get the balls to move. She groans. When I rub her between the legs, she moans even deeper. She’s aroused. I can sense it.
From the suitcase, I get the flogger. Her body tenses, probably because she can hear me approaching. Unfurling the tails, I lash it across her ass. She grunts. I backhand the next strike, whipping the tips to her flesh for more sting. Bridget usually tolerates the flogger pretty easily, and I wish I had a paddle or cane instead, but the blows are enough to jar the balls inside of her. After several lashes, I check between her legs to find her wetness running down her inner thigh.
“Guess you’re liking this,” I remark.
My cock is hard again. I set the flogger back in the case and shed my pants. I can see the alertness in her body, wondering what’s coming next. I push my cock at her pussy and sink into its delicious heat. This feels amazing. More amazing than I remember.
I start off with a few long, drawn strokes, relishing the sound of her muffled groans, before slamming into her. Each shove causes the table to move, so I grab her hips to keep her still, a wet, hot target for me to spear over and over.
I pull out and try out her other hole next. After slowly sinking balls deep into her ass, I start to thrust.
“Liking this, too, Bridge?” I ask, spanking her with my pelvis as I piston in and out.
I fuck harder. She attempts to speak, but her words are incoherent beneath the hood and ball gag. It just sounds like whining and mumbling. And then screaming as her body trembles violently against the table. I feel her rectum spasm around my cock.
“You did not just come without my permission,” I say.
My ardor is raging now. I pound myself into her. Her cries are no longer related to her orgasm, but I’m almost there. With blinding fury, my climax rings through me like a gong. My entire body tenses as I buck into her, unloading into her sweet, sweet ass. I allow myself to remain inside of her, her ass feeling tighter with every throb, until the hardness dissipates along with the quaking of my body.
I pull out of her and note some of my cum oozing down her crack. I walk over to the other side of the table to undo the end of the rope anchored to the leg. She doesn’t move. Removing the hood and ball gag, I lift her jaw to meet her gaze and see that her eyes are glistening.
I don’t like the conflict of emotions in me right now. I don’t want to be feeling anything but righteous anger toward her. To support that, I ask, “What’s the matter? I fuck you too hard, Bridge?”
Still breathing on the heavy side, she doesn’t answer.
I replace the ball gag into the case, along with the hood. Standing behind her, I yank her up by her hair.
“You know you came without permission,” I growl. “That means we’ll have to add weights to the nipples clamps.”
She looks nervous but doesn’t protest.
“You think your nipples would be up for that?” I inquire as I run a finger over a nipple through her dress. She looks fuller than she did two years ago, especially in the chest. Her breasts look large on her, almost as if she got implants.
“You get augmentation surgery, Bridge?” I ask, reaching to grope a breast.
She shrugs away from me and looks down. “No. I just…put on some weight.”
I grab her chin and make her look at me. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“Yeah, why would you? ’Cause you have something to hide?”
“Something to hide…? Darren, I—I made a mistake. About us.”
I cross my arms. “You did? Is that why you’re on a date with Josh?”
“That was—my friends convinced me to— Wait, you know his name?”
It shouldn’t matter one fuck who she goes on a date with. When I’m through with her, she can date a thousand guys. I’m done with her.
But first, I have to claim what’s mine.
My son.
CLAIMED DARKER
Excerpt
Chapter 1
DARREN
Present
* * *
Hovering over her body, still tied face-down to the basement table, I don’t have to see into her face to know that the wheels are turning in Bridget’s head. I knew from day one she wasn’t stupid. Even when she threw her drink in my face. One wouldn’t expect that kind of action from the cerebral type—the type I don’t usually involve myself with—but Bridget is…unexpected. Nuanced. Sometimes thoughtful, sometimes impulsive. A good girl out in the world but naughty as hell in the bedroom. I wonder if she’s still like that, two years later.
Fuck it. It doesn’t matter what she’s like. I’m done with her. I’m sticking with simpler women. Women who don’t overthink things, who don’t challenge my scruples, and who don’t dare to pull a disappearing act on me.
But before I leave her to her fate, I’m going to make the most of what’s mine. I’m going to use her body till she can’t move a limb. I’m going to blow past her limits, even the hard ones, because limits—and safe words—are built on respect and trust. And she broke both those when she skipped town with my son.
Chapter 2
BRIDGET
Past
* * *
The morning of my flight back to California, as I examine myself in the bathroom mirror, I ask myself: was Phuket worth getting stitches in my lip?
Yes, oh yes. Without a doubt.
Not only did I get to experience one of the most beautiful places on earth—my first time out of the U.S. and I got to go to Thailand—I got to spend time with Darren. And he seems to have been extra sweet ever since I got my busted lip, thanks to my attempt to intervene in a fight between him and Joseph Mok, an old rival. As if he thinks I’m maimed, Darren hasn’t been as hard or rough the times we’ve had sex. He hasn’t thrown in any BDSM elements, which I’m surprised I kind of miss. I guess I like the way Darren keeps me on my toes.
Last night he surprised me with a romantic dinner on the beach. The resort staff had set up oversized pillows and a table just for two beneath a canopy of tulle and organza.
“How can I thank you enough for this trip?” I had asked him part way through dinner. “Everything has been amazing, from the flight to the accommodations to the clothes.”
“You’ll be thanking me,” he had replied with a glimmer in his eyes. “A night at my club, remember?”
I hadn’t forgotten. It’s pretty hard to rid my mind of the image of clothespins being ripped off a woman’s naked body, one of the first scenes I had seen after accidentally wandering into the BDSM side of the club Darren owns. What would he want to do to me? I weathered the spanking he gave me with my hairbrush. The anal plug was awkward but surprisingly erotic. But I know he’s going to up the game at his club, and now I feel beholden to endure as much as possible. Not because Darren said I had to but because it’s human nature to want to return a favor.
“I probably owe you more than just one night,” I had joked to see what his response would be. It wasn’t my choice to fly in a suite, stay in a beach cabin at a luxury resort, or have his manager buy designer clothes for me. But I had enjoyed it, nonetheless, so it was time to pay the piper.
“The agreement going into this was one night,” he had said, “but if you’re offering more, I won’t refuse.”
“Let’s see how the first night goes,” I had replied.
I had expected him to reassure me then that he’d go gentle on me or that we’d take it slow, but he didn’t do any of that.
“This is the part where you tell me I have nothing to worry about,” I had prodded.
“I can’t predict what you will or won’t worry about,” he had replied placidly.
That didn’t help put me at ease.
“I’ll have a safe word, right?” I had asked.
“’Course.”
That had made me feel better. A little.
