Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

K enya

The man didn't know how to play by a decent set of rules.

He'd yanked at every ounce of passion, every heated jolt of current we'd shared, expanding both the need and desire until we were both breathless and throwing caution to the wind.

My bottom ached from the harsh spanking, yet it was the intense fire burning in my core that had me floating as if on a cloud. It was crazy and amazing.

And everything I'd told myself I hadn't wanted.

Who was I kidding? It was as if I'd found my person.

Whatever the hell that meant.

I kept my back arched, the wind knocked out of me from the beautiful force he'd used. His cock felt more incredible than before, expanding and throbbing as my muscles struggled to stretch just enough the pleasure became unbridled.

"Good girl. I know what you like." Beckham pulled out again, driving into me with just as much force.

I'd surprised myself how much I'd enjoyed toying with him, acting as if I truly believed I could be the dominating force. I'd never been so playful with a man. It seemed natural, even if the inner girl inside my brain wanted to hate the man. But my body couldn't be convinced. And who would have ever thought the big, bad wolf could be so playful.

Oh, yeah. Little Red Riding Hood. She would have known.

He ground his hips into mine, pushing my limits completely. I raked my nails over his shoulder, digging them into his back. He did nothing more than lift his head, arching a single eyebrow. I adored staring into his eyes, even though he was as guarded as I was. Still, the direct shot of our connection, the tethering that had occurred almost the minute I'd walked into my living room what seemed like weeks ago, was uncontrollable.

Maybe more so.

As he lifted one of my legs, bending it at the knee, his nostrils flared. He'd been so rough up to this point that when he pressed his palm against the outside of my knee, taking his time to drag his tongue across my skin, I shuddered visibly. The heat between us could thaw the entirety of Antarctica.

I closed my eyes, now caressing his skin as he pulsed into me, every action more tender than before. But I had a feeling his suddenly calm demeanor was short lived, his needs as off the charts as mine.

He kissed my leg for a few more seconds before planting both hands beside my head, leaning over as if ready to share an important secret.

And in a way he did, his words so like the man but ones I found myself mesmerized by. "It's official, baby girl. As of right now, you're mine." He lowered his head another couple of inches.

"Meaning what?" I pressed my hand on his chest, preventing him from kissing me.

His smile was wry and knowing. "It means you are my possession, my perfect treat on a cold winter's night, the kind of woman to awaken me from the deep slumber I've been in. It means if you dare try to get away, I'll hunt you down. Then I'll keep you in a gilded castle where you'll spend the rest of your life."

If any other man had said something like that to me, I would have laughed a split second before I cracked my hand across his face. But my body's reaction was exactly what he wanted. I was trembling, the rush of excitement utterly blissful. Still, I sensed he'd had a significant loss, which had thrown him into the deep sleep he'd mentioned.

There wasn't anyone on the face of the earth who didn't have a tragic or sad story, which often prevented them from reconnecting with people. I wasn't certain why during the middle of extreme passion that I was feeling some sense of melancholy myself. Maybe because I knew how he felt, wanting to be left alone while pining away for something that didn't exist.

Maybe I was just being silly, my mind blown by the fact I sensed he was serious about claiming me. Who did that? And what did he think that was going to mean? We didn't know each other. Sure, maybe he was a powerful dude who could easily take anything he wanted, but a person?

His eyes were burning into my retinas, never blinking as he developed a rhythm. I was no longer pushing him away, now gripping his forearm as he tempted me with wet kisses. The small darts of his tongue were incredible, adding to the wicked round of sin.

I almost didn't care he'd locked me away as his brutal fucking forced a shimmer of electricity into every cell and muscle. I could sense my body was relaxing in one way, tensing in another as an intense climax began to build. I'd thought his mouth was magic, but this was indescribably amazing.

The sensations were tickling every part of my body, keeping me electrified. Neither one of us blinked as if fearing we'd miss something but as the orgasm swept up from my toes, I threw my head back, completely unable to focus.

"Oh. My. God." I was panting, tossing my head back and forth, the vibrations were that extraordinary.

Even the way the headboard was slamming against the wall was delectable. But most of all, I loved the way he was growling, doing so in an exaggerated manner. He didn't mind putting himself out there, which also wasn't like anything I'd expected when seeing him with a gun resting on his lap.

I could barely catch my breath as he pounded into me. How was it possible he could take me from one orgasm into another like this?

"That's it. You look stunning when you come on my cock." His voice was so husky, so seductive that I was pushed into a state of rapture.

So much of me didn't want to come down from the intense cloud, preferring to remain aloft, enjoying every second, but as soon as I lolled my head to the side, I was jarred by the fact he'd pulled all the way out.

He was so muscular, his upper body strength incredible. So when he flipped me over as if I weighed nothing, lifting me onto my hands and knees, all I could do was laugh nervously. He issued another harsh reminder he'd meant what he said about being in charge by smacking my bruised and aching bottom with his hand three times. Of course, I yelped, which is what he was going for.

The possessive man wrapped his hand around my hair, keeping my eyes pointed toward the wall as he thrust his cock back into my overheated pussy. As before, my muscles clamped down, attempting to pull him in even deeper inside.

Every time he rocked into me, I bucked hard against him, our flirtatious nature always leading to intense fighting. Somehow, I had a feeling he loved it as much as I did, even though I continued to infuriate him. Everything about him was different tonight, much more controlling in an easygoing way. It made him that much more attractive.

If that was even possible.

He pumped hard and fast, his breathing becoming as labored as mine. When he loosened his hold on my hair, I slowly dropped my head, stars floating in front of my eyes. He rubbed the rough pads of his fingers down my spine, issuing a series of raspy breaths as he slid them between my ass cheeks. There was nothing to prepare me for when he drove his thumb into my asshole.

I threw my head back, screaming at the top of my lungs from surprise, not pain. "Oh. Oh. Oh."

He laughed softly and covered his body with mine. "Are you ready for the real thing, baby girl? My big. Fat. Cock?"

"Yes." I no longer recognized my voice. It was much deeper, the inflections entirely different. Maybe I'd needed someone like this man, dominating yet caring. Or at least it seemed he cared about me.

It was all still muddled given the short period of time but the moment he pushed his cockhead into my asshole, I was blown away by the way the nerve endings seemed to come alive. While there was discomfort morphing into pure pain, it was quickly replaced with a roar of delight, adding to the excitement of just being with the man.

I would never be able to understand or explain the way I felt other than the moments we shared together truly were magical.

Yes, they weren't real or at least they shouldn't be but at this moment I didn't care. I kept my eyes closed as he slowly slipped the last few inches inside. When his cock was fully seated, I couldn't seem to stop making mewing sounds.

His dark chuckle was devilish, more so than the growls from before. He pulled out, driving into me again, suddenly gripping both my hips with his large hands. As he developed the same kind of beautiful rhythm, every beat perfectly in time to some unknown music, a series of echoes pulsed in my ears.

I'd never wanted to do something so filthy, even pushing a former boyfriend out of my life because he'd kept pushing me. But this was… Incredible. I was meeting every brutal thrust, pushing back against him as he covered my body with his for a second time. We rocked as if one, although we were far from it. Still, there was a sense of peace, as if the danger we'd experienced really didn't exist.

Maybe we were doing what we could to mask the horror. I knew I was. How could anyone live through those kinds of attacks? He'd been injured but he still acted as if he was invincible. I couldn't believe he wasn't crying out in pain. It was crazy in my mind, much like everything else. How long had it been? One day? Two? I wasn't even certain any longer given nothing seemed real.

I was pulled into a sweet vacuum, doing everything I could to keep my wits together. For what had to be five or six minutes, his stamina remained, the man savagely fucking the woman he claimed he owned. But as soon as I sensed he was starting to lose control, I squeezed my muscles.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" he roared, his entire body shaking violently as he erupted inside. But he pulled out before he was finished and the heat of his cum as he shifted his cock back and forth was breath stealing.

I'd never had a man paint me with his seed.

His body continued jerking, his fingers digging into my skin. I was shocked when he collapsed over me, shifting one leg until it was over both of mine.

I doubted the man had a romantic bone in his body, but the comfort of feeling most of his weight on my back was amazing.

And exactly what I needed. Together we remained for some time, Beckham keeping his hand pressed against my back possessively. I felt safe, cared for, and so protected. As if he'd never allow anything to happen to me.

I slipped one arm under my chin, resting my head on it as I thought about what had occurred. With night falling and the limited light in the room, shadows were created on the walls. "What's it like to be you? And even more important, who are you really, Beckham? You're not at all what I thought you'd be." Why in God's name I asked that question was beyond me, but I was genuinely interested.

"I'm not certain if that's good or bad."

"It's… complex and difficult to put into words." And it was.

"Fair enough. As far as who I am, I'm a product of my upbringing just like everyone else."

"Interesting since your upbringing had piles of money."

He laughed although the sound was almost sleepy. "I assure you that my childhood is not what you think."

"Not all lavish parties and women hanging on your every word?" I shifted my body, pulling from his grasp so we could look at each other.

As he slipped fingers underneath strands of hair, I could tell he'd moved from being amused with my questions and bold statements to being reflective. He flipped my hair before brushing his fingers down my arm. The moment was strangely unsettling. "When the boys my age were out playing softball or football, I was being trained like a military recruit, taught everything from information about counterterrorism attacks to selecting the right weapon. I used to watch my two brothers enjoying their lives, including going to homecomings and proms. I wasn't allowed."

"Why?"

"One reason was that my father had been issued several unknown threats during my senior year in high school. That shifted into my first year of college as well, which required me to have bodyguards following me like lap dogs." He laughed. "I know why you have an aversion to my soldiers. I assure you I did back then as well."

"Did he ever figure out who was threatening him?"

"No, but the threats stopped coming and eventually, life went back to our normal, which is something I'm certain you couldn't understand. I imagine your parents treated you like the little princess you are." He pinched my nose, trying to be cute.

For some crazy reason, his actions and his story brought back too many memories. "Hardly. My father had no time for his baby daughter, preferring his firstborn son instead. How very sad for you."

"It's all I knew. Don't get me wrong. My family was a loving entity, almost like one big, happy Greek family." He stopped long enough to laugh. "My mom nagged me and my brothers every day about having a brood of grandchildren. I'm positive my Pops would love that as well, even doting on them. It's funny how they haven't bugged my sister yet."

"When he couldn't with his own son."

"Nope. But you learn to live with what you're born into." He cocked his head, his eyes flicking in a different way, the light dimming to a dull roar of emotion. As he stroked my face, I felt his sense of loss. He obviously respected his family, but he also missed not being allowed to enjoy his childhood. Was it so entirely different from mine?

"I know but that doesn't make it easy. My mother tried to make up for all the missed birthdays and holidays, my father too busy to engage in such frivolous activities. She tried her best, even lying that Daddy had gone out Christmas shopping more than once, but I knew better. She couldn't lie to me. It didn't help that my brother enjoyed taunting me with the truth, laughing when I got upset."

"Shitty two men." His growl was full of anger, which made me open my eyes wide.

"Don't worry. I didn't mold my life around the two most shallow men on this earth."

"Good because I might need to kill them. Maybe you should tell me all about the Markham men."

How could I possibly tell him both had barely pronounceable names and that I'd been living under an assumed name for a very long time? I cupped his face, trying to push us both off the subject. "They don't matter any longer. Life is solely what you make of it. Don't you agree?"

Beckham narrowed his eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing you likely haven't heard or experienced in your life before. When powerful men think they can rule the world, they tend to lose themselves in self accolades."

"Ouch," he huffed and sat up on the bed. "I guess I'll keep that in mind."

"Yes, you should." I watched as he crawled off the bed, grabbing his clothes. I'd never thought I'd see the man in jeans. It was a refreshing and gorgeous look on him.

After he slipped into his clothes, he adjusted the pillow on my bed, even pulling back the covers. "Crawl underneath." His command was like it had been before when he'd first entered the room. Not to be taken lightly.

I did as he asked, the girl inside of me wanting to tell him I'd been good as gold so I could leave this place. But the woman who would forever remain hardheaded could never do such a thing. I slid underneath, watching his constantly changing expression as he placed the covers directly under my chin.

"Sleep tight." He snagged the implement of pain before walking toward the door.

"How long are you going to keep me in here?"

"As long as it takes for you to realize the danger is real. Whether or not you find it difficult to believe I wasn't killed during the four attacks, that doesn't take away from the reality these people are highly dangerous. Maybe you were hoping I was killed. Eh?" He cocked his head over his shoulder. There was zero amusement on his face, no twinkle in his eyes, the man just returning to the darkness I'd seen far too often.

"No, Beckham. Contrary to what you might think, I don't wish many people dead. Maybe with the exception of my father." I had no business spouting off at the mouth, but it was too late to take it back.

He studied me intently, taking in the comment. "I'll throw a question back at you. Who are you really, Kenya Markham?"

"You know exactly who I am. I'm a girl who owns a bed and breakfast. I'm a girl who prefers spending time alone. And I'm that same girl you didn't mind kidnapping after playing the hero a couple of times."

I did so love it when he let loose with his laughs, the boisterous sound as sensual as the man. "Yes, but there is so much more to you. To use your word, complex. You have a knowledge about my life that could be considered… unnerving." It was as if he'd needed to choose his words wisely. Or maybe accurately.

"I'm nothing special, Beckham. I assure you of that. But I don't take being pushed into things sitting down. Just so you know."

"I will keep that tidbit in the back of my mind. But you need to keep something in mind as well, my sweet and beautiful little fighter. I value truth and loyalty more than anything, no matter what you might think. If I allow anyone in my employ to get by with breaking my trust, my reputation and that of my entire family and corporation will be soiled. I've learned over the years to react and ask questions later. That's kept me alive and living in the lavish manner you mentioned."

"What are you trying to say?"

He studied me for a few additional awkward seconds. "I'm simply saying, my beautiful possession, that if you want to stay in my good graces, you will need to do two things. One. Follow my rules implicitly. Two and equally important, you'll need to be painfully honest with me at all times."

"And if I don't?"

He grinned but it was an entirely different look. "Then you won't like me very much and I'd hate that. For both of us."

As he left the room, closing and locking the door behind him, I flipped him the bird. For all the passion we'd shared, all the playfulness that had made me feel special, with a single paragraph he'd destroyed everything.

Reminding me in no uncertain terms he was a very bad man.

Just like he'd warned me he was.

Silly me to forget something like that, especially when I knew his type all too well. I rolled over, refusing to think about him any longer. Yet as I turned off my light, determined not to allow my prison time to bother me, all I could do was think of him.

Longing to be held by him.

Hungering for him.

His kisses.

His heated touches.

His piercing eyes.

His thick cock driving me into ecstasy.

Fuck him. Fuck all men.

I didn't need him anyway.