Chapter 2

TWO

SEVEN

If I had any hope of making a break for it when the car came to a stop, it’s dashed immediately. Caleb keeps a casual hold on my hand, and Vortex opens the door to help me out. He grabs me by the back of the neck, scruffing me like I’m a kitten myself. He keeps a firm grip on me as they lead me to the elevator, and Caleb has my bag with Nacho in it.

There are two guards on the top floor when we get off the elevator. They jump to attention when they see Caleb.

“Boss!” one of them says. His eyes flit to me. “The usual, sir?”

I don’t fit in here, and I don’t want to be here, but I force my best disarming smile and do my best to pretend I’m entirely unbothered.

I’m aware of the curious stare of the other, though, who must be taking in my disheveled, unwashed state.

“Correct. I’m not to be disturbed. And…” Caleb reaches out to ruffle the hair on the back of my head. “Seven might have improper ideas about leaving. Let’s make sure we keep him safe and inside the building.”

The smile I worked so hard to paint onto my lips falters, and I squirm. “I, ah… I think we might’ve had a misunderstanding,” I say. “I’m only here for… oh, a few hours,” I say, hating that my laugh sounds nervous instead of carefree.

Caleb inclines his head at me. “Hmm. It does appear there’s been a misunderstanding. You’ll be staying the night—and all foreseeable nights.”

“I… What?” I squeak, looking at Nacho’s furry little head and wishing I could grab him and run. He at least seems to be fine with being carried around, alert and inquisitive, but I don’t want to be an indoor pet anymore. “No, that’s not what we talked about…” I trail off, realizing that having an argument with the boss in front of his men is only going to make things worse.

“ Anything you want , I believe you said?” Caleb smirks at me. “All right, let’s get him settled, Vortex.”

The two guards stand aside and Caleb unlocks the penthouse suite door. It opens up to a large, open living room, with decor that probably cost a fortune.

My stomach twists, and I fight to swallow back the memories threatening to rise up.

Vortex’s hold on me remains tight even after the door closes behind us. Caleb walks to the kitchen counter and sets my bag down on it, then he takes Nacho out.

Nacho meows as Caleb lifts him up.

I instantly try to take a step forward, but Vortex’s grip doesn’t waver. “Wait!” I say.

Caleb looks in my direction. “Hmm?” He puts Nacho against his chest and opens one of the kitchen drawers.

I watch, stunned, as he pulls out… a pet food dish?

“We’ll put him in the spare bedroom. Miss K rarely uses the litter box in there anyway.” Caleb sets the food bowl on the counter and gets a can of cat food out from another cabinet. He sets it inside the bowl and picks it up, never once letting go of Nacho.

“He has fleas,” I blurt out. “And I bite. You don’t want the two of us in here anyway.”

I feel like a desperate little boy all over again, trying to get out of the inevitable while a monster smiles indulgently at me—before taking everything away all over again.

“All the more reason to keep him isolated in one room until we can give him a bath and have him treated for worms and fleas.” Caleb walks down a hallway and into a room.

I try to pull away from Vortex, feeling more desperate than ever to escape, but he digs his fingers into the back of my neck. “Stay still,” he mutters.

But I don’t want to stay still. I want to get my cat and run.

As soon as Caleb emerges from the room and closes the door, Nacho immediately starts meowing and scratching at the door, only making that urge to flee more immediate.

A big, fluffy cat suddenly dashes past me and stops in front of the door. It stares for a few seconds before bending down to bat at the crack between the door and the floor.

Caleb bends down to scratch the cat behind its ears. “Hello to you too, Miss K.”

Miss K.

Little orange paws dart out from beneath the door, the meows getting louder, until Miss K lets out a low growl. Then they retreat, and Nacho’s meowing becomes more pitiful.

My heart breaks a little, and I want to yell and scream and fight.

That’s not going to help, though. It never fucking does.

I know what will, though.

I turn a seductive smile on Caleb. I just have to get through this, and if that means pretending to be into it, that’s what I’ll do. “She’s beautiful,” I say, and this time when I try to wriggle free of Vortex’s grasp, he lets me go.

I can feel his gaze on me, though, and I half-expect him to make another grab for me. He doesn’t, though, letting me advance on Caleb. I tilt my head as I study him.

He’s a handsome man, at least, and he looks clean. His cat looks like she’s healthy and happy, too—or she would be if another cat hadn’t just invaded her home.

“So.” I lick my lips in invitation. “You’ve got me where you want me. Now what, Mr. Spade?”

Caleb steps past the cat and closes in on me. He stops in front of me, and I realize he’s only a few inches taller than I am—unlike Vortex, who is bigger than both of us and has tree trunks for arms.

“I would like…” Caleb trails his thumb over my lower lip, making me shiver. “To see you take a shower. How long were you out there?”

I kiss his thumb. “Long enough to be pretty sweaty, and not for the fun reasons,” I tell him with a pout. I’ll have to get through this somehow, and that’ll start with me pretending to go along with this until I have a chance to get out.

Even if the two goons at the door have been ordered not to let me out.

Goosebumps rise on my arms, and they have nothing to do with Caleb and everything to do with my growing fear of being trapped.

“That’s cute,” Caleb says.

Cute. Far from it. But I smile brightly at him anyway. Let him think I’m cute. Let him think I’m helpless. It’ll make the rest of this easy… or at least, easier .

“All right, shower first.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around, leading me toward what I assume is the primary suite. “Vortex, order food from downstairs, and you can stick around for the show if you want.”

I sneak a glance at Vortex, who freezes for a second. Maybe he’s having misgivings. Maybe he’ll be an unexpected ally.

But he shakes that off, saying, “Sure, I’ll order food. But I’ll pass on the show. You have fun railing that twink.”

He’s apparently not as much of a voyeur as Caleb. It’s a relief, and some of the tension leaves my body. I can deal with putting on a show for one. It’s when others are added to the equation that things get nasty.

Caleb continues to herd me along until even the sounds of Nacho’s meowing and Miss K’s hissing have faded into the background.

“You have a nice place,” I say.

“The benefits of owning a casino.” Caleb takes me to the large en-suite bathroom. “There are shampoos and lotions in the shower. I would also recommend cleaning yourself very thoroughly. There are kits in the lowest drawer by the sink.”

Great.

I look around, taking in the luxuries I’ll get to take advantage of. They’re all old news, though, stuff I’ve seen a billion times before. Even at home, I?—

I slam the door on those thoughts, instead nodding to Caleb. “Sure.” I start to shed my clothes, not bothering for a striptease with these filthy, ill-fitting clothes as I head for the sink. I may as well clean myself out before the shower.

The next time I look up, Caleb is gone, and I breathe out a sigh of relief as I drop the flirtatious, eager persona I save for situations just like these. I can let the tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I wallow in my disappointment and near-despair. The precious few months of freedom mean nothing now. I’d been so close to getting out of this kind of life, only to end up plunged into it all over again.

Only my miserable thoughts keep me company as I clean myself inside and out, taking my time. Caleb hadn’t mentioned me hurrying, and while the idea of food has me wanting to speed through this a little, I’m not ready to see what he has planned for me.

When I finish drying off, I steel myself for what’s coming next.

I may not want to put on a performance again, but at least Caleb isn’t unattractive. He could be ugly and smell of body odor. I could be in a ratty apartment with someone holding my cat’s well-being over me.

It could be much, much worse.

So I paint a smile back on my lips, pulling a too-big bathrobe around my body as I return to the bedroom.

Caleb is sitting on the armchair next to the bed. Vortex is nowhere to be seen.

That’s a relief, though not much of one.

I saunter up to him and get to my knees, peering up at Caleb as I murmur with a seductive smile, “Hello, handsome. Finally alone, I see.”

“Indeed.” Caleb runs a hand through my damp, shoulder-length black hair. It’s starting to curl a little already, but I didn’t have time to dry and style it. “Very pretty.” He lets go of me and motions for me to stand up. “Robe off. Show me everything.”

I hesitate.

I’d avoided looking at myself in the bathroom mirror because I’d already known what was there. Depending on who’s commenting, I’m too bony or too fat; I’m not bruised enough or I’m bruised too much. The scarring is unflattering, or a sign of my disobedience, or a whole multitude of things I can’t even begin to understand.

What is Caleb going to think of all of it?

I smile brightly at him and unknot the belt on the pristine white robe, teasing a little before pulling it free. The robe slides down my shoulders, down to my waist, then puddles to the floor around my ankles as I stand naked before him.

“Do you like what you see?” I ask, more out of force of habit than any real need to know what Caleb Spade is actually thinking.

Caleb reaches out to touch my sides. One of his fingers traces a long scar that runs from my rib cage down to my belly.

My breath catches in my throat.

“Somebody was bad at controlling their whip,” Caleb says, zero emotion in his voice.

No, someone just didn’t care, but I don’t correct him.

I wish he would give me something to work with, but his words are too flat for me to analyze. That’s a bad sign. I need to be able to read him, to figure out how to work this to my advantage, but he’s too damn good at hiding what he’s thinking.

I shrug, pretending I’m not uncomfortable with the assessment. “I bet you know how to handle one much, much better,” I purr.

Caleb looks me in the eyes, his hands still on my body. “I do.” He suddenly rakes his nails across my hip, and I let out a sharp gasp.

The pain is mild, nothing compared to what I’ve endured in the past, but it’s unexpected. My cock twitches in response.

Fuck.

Caleb’s lips curve into a slight smirk. “I was going to offer to be gentle, but maybe I shouldn’t.”

I swallow hard, tongue darting out to lick my lips. “No, you shouldn’t,” I agree.

It’s been a long time since it hasn’t hurt.

It’s been even longer since I haven’t wanted it to.

“And me without all my tools.” Caleb chuckles darkly and traces the scratch marks he’d just left. “For another time. For now, you can get me hard. With your mouth.”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

The fabric of his suit pants is soft, well-made, and it’s clear he spares no expense on his clothing. Even his underwear are fancy, I discover as I make quick work of his belt and his boxer briefs to get his cock out.

It’s impressive, with a nice heft to it that I weigh in my hand. Just the right size, with a nice, subtle curve, and it’s easy to forget that this isn’t just another day of more of the same.

“Mm,” I murmur in approval before taking the head of it into my mouth. He’s already partially erect, and under my ministrations, his cock hardens even more. It’s something I pride myself on—the ability to get a man ready in no time at all—and it seems he’s no less susceptible to my skills than any other.

He grabs my head and pushes me further onto his cock. I relax my throat, letting him go deeper, and he takes advantage of it. I’m taking him so deep his balls are resting against my chin, and I swallow around him over and over again until I elicit a groan from his lips.

It’s only when I need to draw a breath that I pull back off with an obscene, all-too-familiar sound.

Caleb drags his wet cock across my cheek. “No gag reflex at all?”

I shake my head. “Nope.” I smirk at him. “Unless you want me to pretend to have one? I can choke and gasp and tear up all around your big, thick cock if you want.”

He laughs and twists his finger in my hair, pulling hard enough to coax a soft grunt from me. “That’s laying it on a bit thick. Maybe I should find you something bigger to suck on, just to see how much it takes to get you to choke properly.”

Maybe I should’ve pretended to struggle with taking his cock down. It would’ve flattered him, and he’d have gotten to believe he was just that big—or that I’m not that talented. Maybe I haven’t been going about this the right way at all.

Maybe in my desperation to get him off and get this over with, I’m being careless.

“If that’s what you want.” I bat my lashes at him. “I did say anything , after all, didn’t I?”

“You changed your tune fast.” Caleb lets go of my hair and pushes me away with his foot. “Let’s see how well you cleaned yourself. Spread those cheeks for me.”

He should be clouded by lust already, not thinking clearly enough to analyze what I’m doing. Of course, the same could be said in reverse, too, but I haven’t had time to sink into submission properly—and I don’t really want to.

I let him think I lost my balance, falling onto my hands and knees without trying to catch myself, then lift my ass in the air. I pull my ass cheeks apart so he can see my hole. Normally, I’d purr something clever, but he’s not falling for the usual tricks and traps.

Yet.

Caleb places his foot—still wearing leather shoes—on my ass. The heel digs against my balls. “How did you end up hitchhiking in the middle of the desert?”

I’d known he was eventually going to ask, but I hadn’t thought it would be in the middle of sex. It’s disorienting, and I only manage to get out a simple, “What?”

“You heard me.” He grinds his heel deeper into my balls, and I wince in pain even as my hips jerk in anticipation of more. “Why were you out there?”

“I thought it was a nice day for a walk,” I say glibly, only to be rewarded with the same discomfort. “I went…” I’d run through a story in the shower, but it had seemed more believable in my thoughts. Not so much now. “I went on vacation with a friend. We had a fight.” I try to shrug.

“Your friend left you to potentially die out in the desert?” Caleb lets out a small laugh. “You need better friends.”

“I really do,” I agree, and that part is true, at least. “I won’t be inviting him to my next birthday party.”

“Was it your birthday? Maybe we should celebrate.” Caleb finally relents and takes his foot away. He grabs my balls with his hand, but this time he only gently rolls them in his hand, soothing the pain he’d caused.

Sure. It can be my birthday.

I’d walked away from my old life—literally—and I’d been hoping to be reborn into something new… not to find more of the same.

My new date of birth might as well be the day I lost my freedom all over again.

“Yeah,” I say, biting my bottom lip as I watch him over my shoulder. “Any celebration has to be better than that.”

I’m such a liar.

“I’ll comp you a whole birthday vacation.” Caleb’s thumb pushes against my hole. “Although I suppose it’s not really comped if you’re paying me in sex.”

I bite my bottom lip as his thumb shoves inside. I almost tell him I wouldn’t know, that I’ve never been paid for sex before, but he’ll clock that for the lie it is. “You’re overpaying.”

“Or you’ve been undervaluing yourself.” He lazily turns his thumb inside me, just a hint of what’s to come. “Aren’t you lucky that I found you.”

No .

“I am,” I purr, but I consider for a second before asking, “What comes with a birthday vacation, anyway? You own a casino. Do I get free slots? Some gambling chips?”

I’ve never been to a casino before, but it can’t be that hard to win something. If I can earn some money, I can get the fuck out of here.

“It depends on how much you’re paying to stay here.” Caleb withdraws his thumb and finally gets off his chair to press his cock to my hole. “How much are you paying? Should I go bare?”

Not unless you want to risk getting diseased by a fucked-out whore, I almost say, biting my tongue on the words at the last second. “If that’s what you want, sure,” I tell him. It’s not like it matters to me.

Caleb pinches my ass hard enough to make me yelp. “I run a casino. I’m not dumb enough to gamble.” He gets up and moves to the nearby nightstand to grab condoms and lube. He stops in front of me on the way back, and I look up to see him scowling at me.

“I thought the house always wins,” I say, watching him.

“There are some games you don’t come out on top of,” he says. “Don’t be stupid.”

Maybe if I’d had a fucking choice about what happened with my body, I wouldn’t have been stupid . “Sorry I ruined your fantasy,” I tell him flippantly.

He grabs my arm and forces me onto my feet, then roughly shoves me onto the bed.

I don’t know why he’s suddenly so mad, but he’s not the first angry guy to fuck me—and I doubt he’ll be the last. He’ll probably let his other men have me, too, especially now that he knows I’m easy and careless, and I doubt they’ll be as nice as Caleb was pretending to be.

I face-plant on the bed, squirming until my ass is up in the air, easily accessible to him once more. “What should I call you, anyway?” I ask, turning my head to the side on the soft sheet beneath my cheek. “Sir? Boss? Daddy?”

“How about ‘Master’?” Caleb suggests as he rolls the condom onto himself.

My blood runs cold. He’s one of those, then. A sadist, a control freak, and everything else on a little menu that promises nothing but pain and degradation. “Sure,” I purr, hiding my distaste—and the slight, traitorous thrum of arousal that runs through me. “Anything for you, Master.”

Caleb groans, and next thing I know he’s thrusting two lubed up fingers inside me. “Pretty slut,” he whispers. “I assume you know how to relax into it, because this is all I’m giving you.”

I groan, a sound that should be soft but comes out far too ragged, far too loud in this room. My cock has started to plump up, which is probably a good thing since it’ll make this easier.

But I don’t think I like how easily his casual, careless words affect me. The familiarity of them shouldn’t be appealing—shouldn’t be arousing —but something about the way he says them…

He wasn’t kidding about not giving me more time to adjust. He pulls his fingers out and immediately pushes his cock against my hole. The blunt head forces its way into me, and I spread my legs wider for him.

This is easy. This is good . Even the feeling of just the tip of it has my body flushing with need.

After everything, sex should be painful. I should be averse to it.

Yet, here we are, and the uncomfortable stretch turns into something I want more of.

Master .

It should be laughable, but there’s this part of me that recognizes the word as appropriate. As welcome, even.

I shove back against him, urging him to push harder, deeper, and I don’t bother to fight back a helpless moan.

Caleb’s nails rake across my skin as he relentlessly pounds into me. His cock slides against my prostate, and I damn near howl as the pleasure and pain zing across my senses. He absolutely knows how to use his cock, and there’s nothing fake about my reactions.

Am I glad for it, or is it even more terrifying than the promise to keep me?

“Should I let you come?” Caleb asks, leaning down to nip my shoulder. “Or should I leave you hanging while I use you—and use you, and use you, until you’ve forgotten your own fake name and beg for release?”

I’m so into the sound of his voice and the fantasy of it all that I don’t immediately realize he’s pegged my fake name right in the middle of fucking me. It’s not a surprise, exactly, but I hadn’t expected him to bring it up right now.

He has too much self-control, and I don’t like it.

But I’m not going to argue right now, not when I want so badly to come and forget all the uncomfortable, unwelcome thoughts that keep threatening to invade my mind.

“Please, Master,” I mewl. “Please, let me come on your big, thick cock.”

Overkill? Maybe. But it feels right, too, and a little flattery never hurt anyone.

He growls and reaches around to grab my cock, stroking me roughly, without any real rhythm. It feels good, even with how his grip gets too tight and how his nails catch on the head of my cock.

Maybe it feels good because of those things.

“Do it,” Caleb whispers. “Let me feel you come around me, pretty boy.” He bites down on my shoulder.

The strangled sound that escapes me is too real, but I can’t hold it back. I’m not sure if it’s the words that could so easily turn into endearment or the way he’s playing my body, and really, it doesn’t fucking matter, does it? All I care about is that I’m on the verge of coming, and the next stroke of his fingers around my cock sends me over the edge.

I cry out again as I come all over his hand, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm—an orgasm that should be unwanted, unwelcome, but somehow just feels so damn good.

Caleb strokes me through it, his own thrusts becoming erratic. I can tell he’s coming when his hips slam forward even harder, and his movements slow.

I collapse onto the bed, and Caleb follows, not letting me escape his embrace. His cock half slips out, the tip remaining inside me.

My heart is pounding in my ears, and my entire body is thrumming from the aftermath of the orgasm.

It takes me a moment to realize Caleb is kissing the cigarette burn scars on my back.

He’ll have more questions, probably, and they aren’t questions I want to answer—or even questions I can answer. I can’t even say I did it to myself because of where the marks are located, which means I’m stuck coming up with some more bullshit he won’t believe.

I squirm beneath him, suddenly needing to catch my breath, and I feel trapped by the bulk of his body atop mine.

“The house always wins,” Caleb murmurs. “You were right about that. But it’s because the house doesn’t play by the same rules.”

I bite my bottom lip to keep from making a retort. What I’d say, I don’t really know, but mouthing off always manages to get me in trouble. Now isn’t the time to piss him off and get chained to his bed, where I have no hopes of escaping. No, I have to go along with this… right up until the point I don’t.

“Yeah,” I say feebly, but I don’t want to dwell on that conversation, so I add, “I need to pee.”

Caleb nods. “All right.” He pulls away from me, then grimaces. “I think I ruined the suit.”

I’m shaky as I get first to my knees, then grab the bedpost to bring myself to my feet. “I’m sure you can afford another one,” I say dismissively because people like him can afford to just throw clothes away.

I don’t want to stand around and talk, though, not in the light when he’s not distracted and can analyze every mark and every scar on my body.

I don’t want him to see I’m shaking, either.

I flee into the en-suite bathroom, closing the door behind me—and I hope like hell he doesn’t follow.