Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

GRACE

T he sound of crying and skin slapping against skin woke me. The pounding in my head began to drown out the other noise almost immediately. My mouth tasted like ass. The sliver of light cracking my eyes open admitted drilled into my brain with fresh agony.

I tried to roll away from the noise. How much had I drunk the night before?

Sobbing penetrated the haze and I pressed my hands against the… floor? The cold cement against my hands finally made it past the fog of sleep. This was more than just tiredness. I’d been drunk enough to know the difference. This was more like someone slipped me a mickey.

More crying pulled me to the present and I made it to sitting upright and stared out into a nightmare. It had to be one, right? There were men pumping away between the legs of nearly a dozen women in similar situations to mine.

The smell of sex, urine, and sweat filled the air with a rank kind of miasma. The sobbing came from the girl closest to me. She had her head turned away from the man raping her.

Oh, fuck no.

I didn’t care how bad my head hurt. I pushed to my feet and lunged forward. He wasn’t looking at me—only a chain snapped taut as I made it a couple of steps and I fell.

My knee protested slamming into the floor. Worse, it sent a jarring pain all the way up to add a new turbulence to my headache even as the world swam around me. My stomach rebelled. I wanted to vomit.

Laughter drifted through the nightmarish sounds surrounding me. The sound jarred. Amusement didn’t belong in this house of horrors. Some distant part of my brain was desperate to believe I was locked in a bad dream and I’d wake up any minute.

Just too many dark books and wine. I knew better than to go to sleep after too much alcohol. Not even squeezing my eyes shut broke me out of this hell.

A masculine voice I didn’t recognize said something in Spanish. It wasn’t Castilian. I didn’t even think it was Andalusian. It was closer to Argentinian. Maybe.

Either way. I understood what he said.

“The beautiful doll is awake.”

Why wasn’t there something closer I could grab to throw at the asshole still pumping away on the poor girl? A hand grasped my chin as a scent of too strong cologne threatened to suffocate me.

I jerked my face away from his touch. Or at least I tried. He tightened his fingers, the force of them biting into my flesh as he forced my head back to look up at him.

The man wore a five-thousand-dollar suit, a silk tie, and had on Armani cufflinks. Disgust curled through me.

“Tell Ignacio,” the man continued in Spanish, as he rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. “He claimed her for himself.” Then he smiled at me. “But I plan to fuck this mouth after he’s sated himself.”

“ ?De verdad? ” I asked. Maybe it was the desire to throw up or the vicious pounding in my head. It could just be that I’d woken up in some inner circle of Dante’s hell surrounded by demons. Then the man smirked down at me and thrust his thumb into my mouth, I reacted.

I bit down so hard on his thumb, I drew blood, and I punched him right in the dick. He went from a shriek, to choking as he fell to his knees. I fisted his tie, pulling it taut and spat his blood back out at him.

His gasps turned to gargles and then he was trying to grab my hair. I jerked away from him. Even with the chain on my ankle, I managed to get behind him and I still had a hold of his tie.

A boom of laughter ripped through the air. The man who’d been raping the woman next to me suddenly headed for us. But rapid-fire Spanish cut him off as an arm looped around my waist.

It dragged me back against a hard chest and I yanked the suit with us. He fell backwards. There was something satisfying about him hitting the ground. Unfortunately, it also jerked his tie out of my hands.

Dammit. I wanted to scream.

“Such a beautiful fighter,” the man holding me said, his English lacking any kind of accent. He stroked my hair like I was some kind of cat. I couldn’t see him, but I had a front row seat to the suit climbing to his feet. Rage vibrated off him and slapped against me like angry waves.

Blood spattered his already reddened face as he pulled his tie from his neck. I hope it hurt like hell. Violence wreathed the air around him as he stalked forward.

“Stop.” My captor pivoted to the left, putting me out of reach from the man reaching for me.

“She—” He spit the pronoun out like it was a dirty thing and blood struck me from where he waved his hand. “Filthy puta bit me.”

“You shouldn’t have touched her.” The man holding me responded in an even tone. His absolute lack of accent threw me. I didn’t think he was American. The dialect was too flat. It sounded like he wasn’t a native English speaker, yet I couldn’t place what his first language could be. “I told you, this one is mine.”

He stroked my hair again. While I couldn’t place his origin, there was no mistaking the danger in his voice.

The prick in the suit glowered at me. You know what, fuck you buddy.

“He said he planned to fuck my mouth after you were done with me.”

“Did he?” A shiver of apprehension went through me at the silken menace underscoring those two words. He snapped out something in—a language I didn’t recognize but the suit did. Whatever it was had to have been bad because he paled.

The shackle on my ankle was removed and my captor continued to pet me as the man’s suit was stripped off and he was lashed to a post.

“Do you think ten is enough, pet?'“

“Ten?” Ten what?

“Hmm, you’re right. Make it twenty.” He snapped the fingers of his free hand and kept me right there with a front row seat to the whipping the suit took. Not once did he scream nor did he look away.

The pure malice in his eyes promised me a brutal retribution. Reading people had always been something of a hobby. With men, it was as much a business advantage as it was self-defense. They were bigger and they were stronger, if I could charm them, I stood a much better chance of surviving.

Bile coated the back of my throat as blood flecked his chest and spattered around from the heavy strikes of the whip against his back. Only when he sagged from the abuse and the twentieth lash landed did my captor turn me away.

His path gave me a full view of all the women. There were so many. They were all shackled and naked. Some huddled with their arms around their knees. Others still screamed and fought.

I wanted to help them but at the moment, I wasn’t even sure I could help myself. By the time we exited that hall and the door closed on the horrid sounds, I’d made my peace with the fact this was all really happening.

The man continued up a darkened hall. He moved like I weighed nothing at all. I still couldn’t get a look at him. Another man straightened at our approach, but my captor only said two words. I had no idea what the words were or what they meant but the man waiting merely nodded then opened a door to let us into…

My stomach dropped.

It was a private room. There were chairs, a sofa, and on the far wall a bed. There was also a door that opened into what looked like a bathroom. It wasn’t opulent, but it was a damn sight cleaner than the main warehouse. It also smelled better too.

Setting me on my feet, my captor wrapped my hair around his hand. “You will not try to assault me, pet, do you understand?”

The inflectionless English just made my skin shiver. I couldn’t even say why.

I swallowed hard. “I understand.”

Not agreeing was a challenge, because if there was a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of here, I needed to take it. He turned me by my hair and I looked up to meet his gaze.

His eyes—well his left—was a pitiless kind of dark. The other was milky white. An angry scar bisected his eyebrow and across his right eye and down to his cheek. He’d lost his sight, but I had to wonder how he hadn’t lost his eye totally.

“You are as beautiful as all your pictures,” he said, stroking his fingers through my hair.

“Thank you?” I wasn’t really sure what to do with that compliment. “I don’t really feel beautiful at the moment.” There was a faint sourness in the air that was not coming from him and sweat had soaked through my shirt.

“No?” He canted his head and there was something unsettling about being under the focus of his attention. It was like he stared right through me, all the way down to my bones.

“No,” I said. I licked my lips not that there was an ounce of spit in my mouth. “I smell. I’m sweaty. I feel kind of disgusting after—” I had no idea what the other man’s name was. “Well, after he touched me.”

My captor nodded slowly.

“I don’t suppose I can have a shower?” Maybe he’d be sympathetic. He seemed that way. Or maybe that was just his pure possessiveness. Men like him did not share. They took what they wanted and to hell with everyone else.

“What would you give me for a shower, pet?” He spread his fingers and combed them through my hair. There were snarls here and there. Instead of just tearing through them, he was slow and methodical.

I licked my lips again and his gaze dipped, his attention shifting my eyes to my mouth. He wanted to fuck me.

Men.

So predictable.

My heart pounded a little harder. Adrenaline dumped into my system. Fear was a powerful motivator. So was surviving. I’d fucked men before to get what I wanted. Scratch their balls and they’d scratch my back.

“I have wondered what it would feel like to fuck this sweet body. You are smaller than I thought you would be.” Well, that was direct.

“I’d be happy to show you,” I said, letting that hang there in the air between us.

His nostrils flared and his pupil dilated a fraction. Arousal was swift, because he was already turned on.

“After I shower,” I added slowly. “With your permission, of course.”

Lips pursed, he inspected me. “Take your clothes off here. I wish to see all of you.”

He released my hair and took a step back. It was a test.

Of course it was a test.

I was basically offering myself to him and he wanted me to prove it.

Moving to a chair, he took a seat and studied me.

“Now.” The single syllable snapped out of him, the demand unmistakeable.

I reached for the hem of my t-shirt. The casual clothes tickled a memory in the back of my head, but I left it alone for now. It was just a body. I’d been nude on plenty of shoots with far more people around than just one man.

Whether I did it for money or art or survival, it was just a body. I didn’t bother making a production number out of it. The cool air against my damp skin was welcome.

The bra, jeans, and panties followed in rapid succession. I had no shoes or socks on. No jewelry either.

Once I was naked, he steepled his hands together and studied me. I debated whether he wanted me to pose.

“Turn around.”

No comment. I pivoted in a slow, deliberate circle. The moment my back was fully to him, I braced for him just grabbing me and getting to business. Nothing happened, however, and my heart slammed against my ribs like it was determined to crack them.

Once I faced him again, he nodded.

“You may shower. There is a hair dryer in there, make sure your hair is dry when you come back, I want to feel it on my skin and in my hands when I take you.”

The words “thank you” seemed glued to my tongue, but I managed to squeeze them out. His nod was magnanimous. The shower was fully stocked and the water was warm.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much in the way of weapons and there was also no way to close the door. Awareness of him observing me the whole time didn’t go away, either. I made quick work of the shower, and washing my hair, rinsing away the sour odors of fear and pain.

Once I was done, I toweled off, then hooked up the hair dryer. It would take a minute. He had no product here for me, so whatever I ended up with was going to probably frizz.

Well, frizz was still soft. The minutes of freedom between stepping into the shower and finishing blow drying my hair passed too quickly. Once I was finished, I took a deep breath and returned to the room.

The man still sat in his chair, his head tilted back and his left eye open. The scar seemed to glow despite the shadow cast by the chair’s winged back.

“Where do you want me?” I was proud of how steady the words came out.

“Is your cunt as smooth as it looks?” The question had me glancing down.

“Probably,” I said. “I get lasered regularly.”

It slowed the growth to almost nil. It didn’t get rid of it entirely. He curled his fingers, a single beckoning gesture and when I reached him, he traced his fingers down my abdomen toward my pussy. He paused to trace his fingers over the bare mound, then deeper along the seam of the lips.

“Foot here,” he commanded, patting the edge of the chair next to him. I raised my leg, baring myself to his inspection. The way his lips parted and the swift breaths he took said he very much liked what he saw.

The gentle probing of his fingers as he stroked from my clit to my entrance seemed utterly at odds with the situation. At least until he thrust a finger into me. I wasn’t quite wet enough for that and there was some pain associated with the resistance.

“Don’t worry, pet,” he said in a low croon. “We have all night.” He stroked his thumb against my clit. The dryness made the friction uncomfortable. Course, when he pulled his hand out and spit on his fingers, I tilted my head back.

I needed to think of something I enjoyed or this was going to be even more uncomfortable.

“Would you like me to touch you or do I have to wait?”

He rubbed his spit against me and I tried to ignore where the moisture came from. “You will be touching me soon enough, pet. But I have plans and we’re going to do this my way, since you are being so sweet and cooperative.”

Eventually, my body softened. It knew what to do and the more he circled my clit, the more moisture gathered between my legs.

“Play with your breasts,” he told me and I raised my hands to cup them.

Pinching and rolling the nipples until the tautness stretched to my belly. He had two fingers inside of me thrusting as he worked my clit.

I might just come like this and, right now, I was fine with it. One step at a time. As a shiver went through me, he pulled his hand away abruptly and a sound escaped me that could definitely be a complaint.

His low chuckle wrenched me to earth and I looked down at him.

“You are a good pet, and I am going to enjoy the next few hours.” After he licked his fingers, he unzipped his pants and opened them to free his large, bulbous cock. “Now ride me, pet.”

Survival, I reminded myself. He was hardly the first dick I mounted to get what I wanted or needed. I slid a knee on either side of his thighs and reached between us to fist him. His swift indrawn breath had me stroke him once or twice.

He was rock hard and not small. Probably why he’d worked so much spit into me. If he went in dry that would definitely hurt.

Still, I didn’t give myself time to think. I lined him up and plunged downward. He gripped the arms of the chair and not me as he blew out a breath.

Right.

He wanted me to ride him.

I slid a hand into his hair and began to roll my hips. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions or even giving me a lot of pleasure but I could get him off.

That was what mattered right now.