Chapter 39

ROSALIND

If I thought my heart was pounding before, it's now hurling itself against my ribcage. I can't stifle my fight-or-flight response. I can't control my arousal. My throat is parched, and the small amount of rice pudding from earlier has reset my hunger response. Worst of all, he's gotten me aroused to the edge of insanity.

With the alarms on my vital signs filling the room with sound, Cesare would have to be comatose not to notice I plan to escape.

"Don't stress," he whispers, his voice a sinister purr. "Even if you used those combat skills, you'll never get through our biometric security."

"Want to bet?" I ask through clenched teeth. "There are enough scalpels here to pluck out your eyes. I'd even cut off your hand."

His laugh grates on my last nerve. "Does my pet have a fetish for dismemberment?"

Shivers run down my spine. Why the fuck am I giving this sick bastard ideas? I glance down at the huge tent in his pants and grimace.

"I prefer castration."

His grin falters, providing me with a petty sense of satisfaction.

"Do you want this shower or not?" he asks with a sneer.

I raise my shoulders. "Ready whenever you are."

Cesare unbuckles the thick leather belt around my chest and waist first, followed by the one holding down my hips. I lie still and wait for the best moment to strike.

He releases the restraint on my neck, and adrenaline surges to my limbs. As he moves between my spread thighs, I consider my chances of kicking him in the balls.

No. That's stupid.

He'd tie me up again and do something worse than sew my labia shut. I need to exercise restraint, at least until he releases my arms.

The splints holding my fingers straight could make a weapon. Each digit is attached to a thick metal plate that runs between my knuckles and wrist, which will add weight to my back-handed punches.

"I know what you're thinking." He crouches between my legs, delivering soft kisses to my inner thighs.

Each press of his lips sends sparks to my already tormented clit. He strokes the sensitive skin there with feather-light touches that make my pussy twitch.

"Right now, I'm thinking about a shower," I say.

"Liar," he says, his voice light. "You're going to knee me in the balls until I double over and then rush to the door."

"You missed the step where I pluck out your eye," I reply with a nervous laugh. "How far will I get when your home is so full of staff?"

"It won't be the first time you've escaped."

"Still sore about that?" I ask.

"Of course not." He releases the strap on my left leg, followed by my right.

He pauses as though waiting for me to deliver the kick to his groin, but I remain still.

Not yet…

He walks to my left arm and attaches a metal cuff before releasing the leather restraint.

"What are you doing?" I hiss.

"Pets like you don't break easily." He walks out of range, holding a chain attached to the metal cuff. "I'll keep you chained like a dog until you learn to be my good girl."

I grind my teeth, fighting back the urge to snap, knowing that any rebellion will sabotage my chances of escape. Instead, I focus on how to convince him to release my fingers.

Cesare circles the table and clasps another cuff around my right wrist, then forces my arms together with a thick chain. When he links them with a padlock, my heart sinks.

"Isn't that a little excessive?" I ask, my voice trembling with restrained fury. "One would think you were scared of a girl."

His strong arm wraps around my shoulders, and he helps me to sit up. My back aches from lying on a hard surface for so long, and I grimace.

"You're a skilled assassin with a track record of deceiving even the best of men."

My eyes narrow. He must be talking about Leroi. Before I can use that knowledge to my advantage, he helps me off the table and onto my feet.

Dizziness slaps me across the senses, leaving me seeing spots. Even if I wanted to kick his ass, my legs wouldn't cooperate. They're unsteady from a mix of inactivity and low blood sugar.

The sick bastard has left me uncoordinated and weak.

"Easy now, pet," he says, like I'm a skittish colt.

With one hand at the small of my back and the other holding my bound wrists, he leads me to the sink.

My lip curls. I fucking knew this shower was a scam.

He presses down on a lever between the taps, and the tiled panel behind it swings open to reveal a white bathroom. Strobe lights blink to life, burning my retinas.

"You people have thought of everything," I mutter.

"This playroom used to be a long-term prison," he says. "My dad installed the bathrooms because he couldn't stand the stench of the captives."

After marching me through the tiled chamber, he stops beneath the shower, and he raises my bound arms to a set of wall-mounted hooks. I struggle against the chains, my body shaking with the effort.

"Is that what I am now?" I spit. "A long-term prisoner?"

"Once you're broken in, you'll be allowed to sleep in my bed and eat with the family." He runs a hand down my back, leaving a trail of heat.

"No amount of torture will turn me into your willing plaything," I snarl.

With a smirk, he takes off his shirt, leaving me glaring at the toned muscles and tattooed skin of his chest. My gaze lingers on the lines and dips of his torso, taking in his defined six pack.

Cesare Montesano is perfect. At least physically. It's a shame nature wasted all that physical beauty on a creature so morally depraved.

He unbuckles his belt, pulls down his zipper, and eases down his pants. My breath hitches as he frees his huge, pierced cock, which drips with a bead of precum.

All the moisture leaves my throat, and fresh lust kicks me in the cunt. Heat shoots down to my core, and my pussy grows wetter, coating my inner thighs with arousal.

Squirming on my feet, I squeeze my legs together, trying to create a little friction, but I'm so desensitized from all that teasing that it's futile.

His gaze sweeps down to my pussy and back up to my eyes. Then he flashes me a cocky grin that makes me want to knock out his perfect, white teeth.

"See something you like, pet?"

"Nothing at all," I snap.

After toeing off his shoes and kicking them to the corner of the bathroom, he returns to my side and twists a knob on the wall. Two huge shower heads release cascades of water. Warmth pours down onto my head, erasing the grime from days of captivity.

Wetness clings to Cesare's naked body, making him look even more tantalizing.

"Sure about that?" He pushes on a dispenser, fills his palm with soap, and moves around my back. His large hands stroke my breasts, stoking the flames of my lust. "I can't get enough of you."

"You're deluded." I flinch away from his touch.

"And you're in denial," he replies, his fingers trailing down my belly. "Open your legs."

"What for?"

"I want to make you come."

"No," I snap.

He chuckles. "No?"

Water pours down on our heads, the sound of it muffling his heavy panting. As his fingers travel downward, I hold my breath, hoping they won't linger, but they reach that tiny groove in my skin that can't be fixed with laser resurfacing.

Clenching my teeth, I force myself not to shudder as he rubs back and forth along the fourteen-year-old scar, making my heart lurch. He's going to ask about it, and I need a distraction. Now.

"What's that?" he asks.

I blurt the only thing that comes to mind. "You know, Leroi might have been a cold-blooded bastard, but he never left me unsatisfied or bored."

With a snarl, he snatches back his hand and shoves me against the wall, his eyes burning with a fury that borders on insanity. Then he grabs my throat and cuts off my air.

The hot water zaps away some of the tension, but I can still feel the intensity of his glower. I raise my chin, meeting his gaze, refusing to be cowed. I can handle the physical torture and even being choked. For Miranda's sake and mine, the last thing I need is for this maniac to learn how I got that scar.

"Are you comparing me to my cousin?"

"Difficult not to, considering he was the last man I fucked," I rasp.

"He has a new woman," he hisses. "So, don't talk about him unless you want the gag."

My lips tighten, and I breathe hard through my flared nostrils. "Don't forget," I say through choked breaths. "You're the one who approached me, knowing my history."

"Do you want to come or not?" he snarls, his fingers tightening around my neck.

"I'm getting sick of this game," I say.

"Yes or no."

I clench my eyes shut. "Yes."

He reaches between our bodies and rubs my clit with firm strokes. My hips buck, and I tremble under his touch.

"Forget about him. You're with me now," he growls.

The heat from the water and the steam have me dizzy and disoriented, but not nearly so delirious as to agree to his ownership. I shake my head, focusing only on the sensations.

"These are my tits." He releases my neck only to pinch my nipple, triggering a burst of pain.

Shivering against the onslaught, I part my thighs. His fingers quicken their pace on my throbbing clit, eliciting desperate moans.

"If you stop, I swear on everything that's holy that I'll bite a chunk out of your face," I growl.

"I won't," he says, his thick cock pressing against my belly.

"Free my hands," I say, my voice urgent. "We can do this together."

His laughter echoes off the bathroom walls. "Not a fucking chance."

"Bastard." I yank at my restraints, making the metal clank.

"Such a foul-mouthed little toy," he growls into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "You need to learn to respect your master."

"You're deluded."

"I control your pleasure," he snarls and punctuates the statement with a squeeze. "I control your pain. I control whether you eat or sleep or shit. That's the very definition of a master. Now, beg for that orgasm."

When he eases off the pressure, I lose my instinct to rebel.

"Please," I say, my voice breaking. "Let me come, please."

He resumes his touch, only faster and with more pressure. The sensations overwhelm my system, and the entire bathroom fades away. My breath hitches, and my body arches toward release.

With my eyes closed, I can pretend that the man dominating me is someone other than Cesare Montesano. He'd be tall, dark-haired, and muscular, with tattoos and a devilish grin. And exactly my age, if not younger.

Shit.

Did I just describe the asshole breathing down my neck?

"Such an eager little pet," he growls, his hips rolling, his erection grinding against my belly. "Come for me. I want to hear your pleasure."

My body keeps teetering over the precipice but never falls, as though its new default state to pleasure is being edged. I move my hips against his fingers, trying to increase the friction, but it's impossible.

So, this is what they call a ruined orgasm.

"Come on," he says, his voice deep and seductive. "Let go. Let yourself fall."

"I can't," I say through clenched teeth. "That stupid chastity belt?—"

"Come for your master." He pinches my nipple hard. "Now."

Every orgasm he denied me hits like a thunderstorm, striking me with bolts of lightning. My body convulses and jerks under the onslaught, my muscles spasming with each charge of electricity.

The weight of all the pleasure makes my knees buckle, and I drop toward the floor, but Cesare wraps an arm round about my waist, and holds me to his chest.

He strokes my clit throughout the climax, prolonging its intensity, until it feels like I'm being consumed. I cry out, unable to hold back.

"Good girl," he croons. "See how you're coming at my command? Your brain is releasing floods of oxytocin, that will create an unbreakable bond."

I collapse against his chest. "One day, I will stick a knife in your heart and leave you bleeding to death."

He strokes my hair. "That's the spirit. The more you fight me, the harder you'll fall."

"I won't."

Laughing, he pulls me closer. "We'll see, pet. We'll see."

Rage-filled tears spill down my cheeks and mingle with the hot spray. One day, he'll drop his guard, and I'll strike.

It's only a matter of time.