Dangerous Thirst (Possessing Her Book 1), page 12
She followed me down the steps as I racked my brain for possible ideas for breakfast, knowing I was again down to my last scraps. Each time I went to the grocery store, I only bought for the days I was expecting to have her, and every time it seemed to be pushed back.
While I had yet to hear of any further instructions from the blackmailers, I felt confident that these would be our last days together. Everything had gone wrong, including hiding my identity, and that made me uneasy and extremely uncomfortable. At any time, she could point me out in a lineup, one of my greatest fears.
“I don’t have a lot left, but we have to find something for breakfast,” I said aloud, though I was speaking more to myself than Olivia.
“Let me see.” She leaned over my shoulder, and I felt her soft breast press into my back.
Randomly, I thought of how she didn’t have any new underwear, so she must be going commando under the dress. The memory of touching her soft pussy, soaked with lust for me, sent blood rushing to my lower half.
“I can make an omelet,” she announced, already reaching for the ingredients.
After grabbing what she would need, struggling to maneuver around me with our wrists locked together, she held the handcuffs in the air.
“I can’t cook like this,” she whined, asking to be released without saying the words.
“Everything together, Olivia.”
Her face dropped slightly before she turned toward the stove. Together, we worked in unison as I reached for a large bowl from the cabinet and showed her where the utensils were. She giggled when she had to whip the eggs together, which was more difficult with my wrist attached to hers, and I let out a soft chuckle, hoping it didn’t make it to her ears.
Sure, I wanted the next few days to go off without a hitch and would have liked nothing more than to enjoy our time together, but I knew if I were too friendly, she wouldn’t respect me, and I needed even more than that. Fear was my objective—nothing more and nothing less.
As she cooked our breakfast, I worked beside her to make a pot of coffee, pouring each of us a mug before asking how she liked hers. I could’ve guessed it, but she wanted cream and sugar, so that’s what I gave her, preferring mine black.
When she finished two perfect omelets that looked like they were straight from a restaurant kitchen, she placed them on plates, and we moved to the kitchen table. As usual, Olivia ate slowly in small bites, while I rushed through my breakfast, intentionally neglecting to compliment her although the omelet was delicious.
It was becoming more and more difficult to put on a mean face when she was the sweetest girl I’d ever met, especially when she was behaving herself. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I began to think that the next few days wouldn’t be so bad.
I’d learned from my ex-girlfriend that grocery stores now offered the option for delivery and contemplated the risk involved. The last thing I wanted was to associate myself with my parents’ address, essentially making a future alibi impossible.
Glaring across the table, I debated leaving Olivia alone but quickly decided against it. She would be attached to me no matter what, and grocery shopping in handcuffs seemed like a bad idea.
As she finished her food, I scrolled through the digital grocery store, adding meals to my cart as I mentally made a menu of things I could cook. Just as I finished, Olivia was chewing her last bite. Instantly, I received an email notification, stating my groceries would be at my door in twenty minutes or less. Raising my eyebrows, I had to admit I was impressed with the simplicity and convenience.
“Is everything okay?” Olivia asked, barely glancing up from her now-empty plate.
“Yes.” I deepened my voice to silently declare it was nothing for her to worry about.
“Was it about your pay for me?” she asked, catching me off guard. I’d never told her anything about receiving money for her, so she must have made that up on her own. When I only responded with a confused look, she continued, “I’ve just been trying to put this all together. You said you were kidnapping me as a means to an end, but I can sense you enjoy my company at least a little.” She glanced up, and I clenched my teeth to remain unreadable.
“Then you said it was for someone else, which I find myself believing because you don’t seem at all to be the kind of guy that goes around kidnapping girls. I mean, you obviously are making this up on the fly.” She raised her wrist to show the handcuffs as if that was proof.
“So, then I thought, why would someone be able to convince you to do this? You seem to be a smart guy, so you have to know how much trouble you’ll get into for something like this. Your nails are manicured, you drive a luxury car, and you obviously have a second house that you never use. It can’t be money that you need.”
She was reading me too clearly. I’d underestimated Olivia and her lack of street smarts; she’d been paying close attention. Her mistake was sharing with me how much information she’d compiled because it only made me more uneasy about letting her go.
Ideally, I’d go forward with the drop and she’d go on about her life and we would never speak again. The blackmailers would ensure my privacy, and things would go back to normal. But now it didn’t seem like that was guaranteed.
Olivia knew too much, and the possibility of her walking away without seeking revenge wasn’t likely. Of course she would want justice, which meant destroying my life as I knew it. The more I thought about it, the more certain I grew that having her walking around was a liability for me.
“And so if it isn’t money, what could possibly make you risk your life and freedom for someone you’ve never met? It all just seems to—” she started, and then I cut her off, slamming my fist against the table so vehemently she jumped as my mug of coffee almost spilled.
“Enough!” I yelled, tired of the endless questions. She was much smarter than I’d anticipated, and it was annoying to think of how things would work in my favor with all she’d made note of about my life.
Olivia’s eyes remained downcast, fear coating her pretty face, which in some way turned me on. She was cute when curiosity got the best of her, a vivid imagination sending her into a frenzy, but even more, I loved to see her cower to my masculinity.
The doorbell rang, and she looked up, a mix of excitement and surprise swirling in her eyes. She thought she could be getting rescued, but she was sadly mistaken.
Without a word, I pulled her to the stove, hoping to deter any further questions she may have with silence. Setting my phone on the table, I dug into my back pocket to retrieve the keys to the handcuffs, not wanting to alarm the delivery driver.
“My friend is here. And if you say a word, you will regret it. I’ll make sure of that,” I warned her, glaring into her eyes as I unlatched the handcuffs. Olivia nodded slowly, letting the fear I loved to see flash in her eyes.
Hooking her arm around, I attached her to the radiator at the stove, staring for an extra second to see if she would behave. Olivia’s eyes always revealed her truth, and this situation was no different. Without a word, I could tell she would not betray me. While she may enjoy pushing my buttons by asking a million questions, I knew she wouldn’t scream once I left her alone. Satisfied with her reaction, I left for the door.
“Hello. That’ll be fifty-four dollars and seventy cents,” the young man delivering the food stated when I opened the door. He was young and curious, and I pulled the front door closed when I noticed him glancing into the house.
Stepping onto the front porch, I dug into my back pocket before retrieving three twenty-dollar bills, shoving them toward the nosy delivery man.
“Thank you.” He accepted the money with a sheen of shame coating his face.
Anger bubbled in my chest. I was annoyed by his brazen attempt to look into my home knowing Olivia was only a few feet from the door. My entire life was hanging in the balance, and every day it felt like someone was ready to push me over the limit.
All it would take was one scream of help from inside the house and my entire life would crumble before my eyes. Just thinking of the nightmare that could be sparked from the deliveryman’s presence frustrated me further. Each day, I became more helpless in the situation, always one step from exposure.
“Thanks for the tip!” he called behind me, but I was already halfway into the house, quietly closing the door behind me, hoping not to allow my anger to raise suspicions.
Olivia must not have heard the door close. It might have been hard to hear over the loud banging of the metal handcuffs against the radiator. Her tiny frame was contorted, manipulating her body to reach for my cell phone, which was just a few inches out of her reach.
Clenching my teeth, I watched her with fury, the helplessness multiplying in my mind. Olivia was only inches away from ruining my life because of my own negligence, and now I felt myself losing control.
It was time to take the power back and demonstrate my control. Olivia was my captive, and it was time she understood who was in charge.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I barked loudly, startling her.
She turned to face me with innocent eyes glassing over as she read the aggression in my eyes. Her breasts rose and fell as she slowly moved her body closer to the radiator, her eyes on me the whole time. Her fear was palpable, and it turned me on to know I could do whatever I wanted, and there was nothing she could do about it.
22. Chapter Twenty
Olivia
Wednesday
His movements were so swift; I barely noticed him move until his hard body was pressed against me from behind. With his hand wrapped around my neck, I could feel his warm breath against my neck, his chest rising and falling in tides against my back.
My heart raced with anticipation as I mentally kicked myself for such bad luck. Every time I even thought of escaping, my captor seemed to read my thoughts, catching me before I could make a move. He was always one step ahead of me, and his strength and speed were too dominating to compete with.
Cowering, I felt my knees begin to buckle, and my mind flooded with ways he would torture me. I’d done everything possible to piss him off, and now it was time to pay for my misbehavior. There was no doubt in my mind that he would take out his aggression on me, but I couldn’t be sure how he would do it.
After days tied to his bed, I thought it couldn’t get any worse than that. Time had proven me wrong. Living handcuffed to my captor was more than I thought I could handle, but in the end, it wasn’t as bad as I feared. Knowing things would get worse made me miss when being attached to him was my only form of punishment.
His hands drifted down my body slowly before finding my wrist. His hips snapped forward as he reached into his back pocket, and I could feel his erection pressing into my back. Lust caught my breath, and I felt my pelvic muscles tense with need.
I was surrounded by him, more in sense than touch. His scent and control were captivating, holding me hostage more than the metal around my wrist. In a way, I didn’t want to be released, relishing in his undivided attention. The fear was still there, but it wasn’t alone as my emotions overflowed from my pores. The wait was torturous, and I knew he was thinking up ways to hurt me.
“Come here,” he growled.
Turning around, I watched him clasp the shiny metal around his wrist, linking us back together before walking toward the kitchen table. I followed on shaky legs, waiting to see what he would do to me.
His eyes squinted with curiosity, and his teeth clenched tightly. He was watching me, trying to read me. Struggling, I forced a straight face to hide my fear and more importantly to disguise my lust. The last thing I needed was for him to misread my emotions.
Without a word, he tugged my wrist roughly, pulling me over his lap. A loud breath escaped me as my chest landed hard on his knees before he pulled me up farther with his free hand. My heart raced just as I felt my captor’s hand on my thigh, lifting the sundress to reveal my bare ass.
“You don’t want to listen, huh?” he finally spoke, his cold tone sending chills up my spine.
“What are you doing?” I whined, struggling to turn.
Again, he was too strong and fast to beat, and he held me down with one arm, slowly running his fingertips across the skin of my bottom. My juices pooled between my thighs, my muscles clenching tight as fear loomed in the pit of my stomach.
He had taken the gloves off and done away with the nice-guy act. All that I had feared was now coming to life, and it was worse than I ever expected. Tears welled in my eyes as the humiliation of what was happening set in.
“You want to be a bad girl?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“No! Please, stop!” I cried, kicking my legs, but it only seemed to encourage him.
“If you want to be a bad girl, I’m going to treat you like one.”
This time his voice was bold and eager, his hand continuously moving across my bare ass in a petting motion. There was no way I could move, trapped between his legs and his forearm, his arm tugging my attached wrist.
His hand lifted from my bottom, and I wondered what would happen next until I felt the gust of wind followed by a hard slap against my ass, a loud clapping sound resounding throughout the kitchen when he spanked me before he raised his hand again.
“You will listen to me, Olivia!”
And another slap. Again and again, he spanked me like a child, chastising me with every hit. My ass grew warm as the friction continued, my legs now hanging still in shock. Never in my life had I ever been more humiliated.
The tears stung the corners of my eyes before sliding down my cheek. Knowing he was enjoying my embarrassment was worse than the sting of his hard hand against my soft bottom.
The worst part was this underlying feeling I couldn’t identify. While I was undoubtedly mortified, there was a swift and continuous churn deep in the pit of my stomach, rising with urgency as every inch of my skin came alive with excitement.
I’d never done anything so racy in my life, and it felt both naughty and electrifying. I disliked the allure to his power, and the tears flowed faster at the confusion. Trapped in his control, attached to his wrist, there was nowhere to go and yet nowhere else I wanted to be.
Suddenly, he stopped just as abruptly as he started, flipping me quickly to place me on my feet. The look of satisfaction covering his face somehow made him even more attractive, as he stood to hover over me, glaring into my eyes with lust.
“Not so fun being a bad girl, huh?” he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance.
My gaze drifted to the floor, unable to continue looking into his eyes as the excitement quickly faded from my stomach, replaced by fear.
Now that he saw how much joy punishing me brought him, I knew he would want more. How else would he want to hurt me? Our wrists were still chained together, so there was no way I could escape. Looking around the kitchen, I realized for the first time that there was no way I could get away from the man who had just stripped me of my dignity.
“We have the whole day to kill, so there’s no need in wasting it. We need to get this food put away.” He nodded toward the four grocery bags on the counter before tugging my arm in that direction. I followed in silence, working with him to unload the bags.
So, that’s what he was doing when he left me alone. My first idea to escape was to scream for help, but he’d told me it was his friend, so I thought it would be useless. Now, knowing I could have alerted someone to help me sent one last tear sliding down my cheek.
We worked in silence, bumping occasionally as we reached around each other to place food in cabinets and the refrigerator. Occasionally, I caught him smiling in my direction, most likely amused by my embarrassment.
“Are you hungry?” he asked once we’d finished putting the groceries away.
I nodded, still looking away from his eyes, running from the lust he was harboring in his. My stomach was growling, speaking louder than my fear and shame.
“Do you want to cook again?” His tone was more friendly than usual.
Was it even possible for him to feel remorse for something he enjoyed doing? I doubted it and began to gather ingredients to make a sandwich, yanking his arm at every opportunity.
He was too big and strong to be hurt by my measly aggression, but I still tried. Whenever I needed something next to him, I bumped him with my hip as hard as possible. He chuckled each time, but that didn’t deter me.
We ate our turkey sandwiches with potato chips in silence, although we were forced to remain close due to the restrictions. My mind was still upset, but my body had long ago forgiven him. Everything about him seemed like a tease, from his seductive scent to the way he watched me so closely.
I wasn’t a virgin, but there was never a more intimate experience in my life. We spent so much time together, even performing mundane tasks like cleaning the dishes. My captor washed dishes before handing them to me. I dried and placed them in a holding rack.
