Chapter Sixteen

Soup

Ella

"The soup smells good."

She'd said something similar once before when he'd promised her pie and lived to regret it, but there was no getting away from her gnawing hunger and how good his broth smelled.

A fleeting memory of the way she'd vomited the poor rabbit whipped through her mind, but she pushed it away. The last thing Ella wanted was a reprise of that disaster. Things were bad enough. Her shoulders begged for release from the cruel position he'd compelled her into. Their plight was matched only by her poor, aching knees.

"The soup ideally needs a little longer to cook." His attention bored into the pot he was stirring. "But you need food now."

Her stomach growled as if to prove the point. "What's in the soup, sir?" He'd mentioned there was no meat in the concoction, but she wanted to be sure before she consumed it.

Not that there's much choice. I'm starving.

"Not all vegetables grow in the partial shade offered by the forest." His gaze shifted to the window before returning to the bubbling soup. "But I've established a small and thriving veggie garden of celery, leeks, and potatoes."

A veggie garden?Her brow rose at the news. Who would have thought?

She would never have guessed that the giant of a man who proactively chose to live in a dank cabin in the woods would have a flair for gardening and cooking, but then that was Tucker. There seemed to be lots about the enigmatic stranger she hadn't anticipated, like his utter determination to keep her.

He was a walking, talking contradiction.

A brute who was willing to haul a woman over his shoulder against her will, then tie her in such a brutal way shouldn't be the same man who could bring her the most fabulous pleasure and ask to hold her afterward. She could barely reconcile that the two sides of Tucker were the same man.

He was completely perplexing.

"How does that sound?"

She realized suddenly that his focus was on her, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement as he waited for her answer.

"Lovely, thanks." Vegetable soup was far preferable to eating her family pet. "I'm hungry."

"I bet." He reached for a bowl and ladled a portion into it. "Here." Turning, he grabbed a spoon and strode toward her. "Let's get you fed."

She eyed the cutlery at his approach, trying not to linger on its cleanliness. The truth was she had to eat. She couldn't survive on thin air and Tucker's cum alone. If she was going to get out of this situation, then she had to attend to her basic needs.

"It'll be hot." Perching on the edge of the bed, he dipped the spoon into the soup and lifted it toward her mouth. "Maybe you should blow it first?"

She lifted her chin at his wry tone, all too conscious of how naked she was compared to his half-dressed body. Ella wasn't ashamed of her body—far from it. She was young and was well aware of how attractive she was, but there was still something awkward and mortifying about being the only one nude in a scenario like this.

A scenario like this?

She blinked at her ridiculous train of thought. Who would ever have conceived a scenario like this, let alone find themselves in one?

"Thank you, sir."

Watching the spoon as it neared her, she pursed her lips and directed air at the meal he offered. In fairness to Tucker, the soup did smell good. She liked the look of the small pieces of celery and leek and while he hadn't mentioned using any herbs, she could certainly smell additional seasoning. He was quite the chef.

"Ready?" He pressed the spoon to her lips and slid the soup past them when they opened.

A myriad of savory flavors flooded her taste buds as she chewed the soft celery.

"Well?" He withdrew the spoon, quickly replacing it with another offering. "What does my little girl think?"

His little girl.

The muscles of her sex clenched as the name echoed around her. Why did the patronizing label chime with her so badly? There should be nothing good about being condescended to by a man old enough to be her father, but then she should never have succumbed to his charms at all. Tucker seemed to have entirely ripped up the rule book she'd played by, yet kneeling there, she still wasn't sure how he'd achieved it.

Like an animal in his headlights. She sucked in air at the disturbing analogy. That's what I am. Like one of the rabbits he captured and killed.

"Ella?" The insistence of his tone snapped her back to her reality and to the spoon nudging at her lip.

"Oh." Accepting the spoon, she met his eyes as she swallowed its contents. "It's really lovely." The fusion of flavors bursting in her mouth was genuinely delicious.

"Good." He smiled, evidently pleased with her feedback. "Mind if I share with you?" He gestured to the bowl. "I'd like to try the soup, too."

"Sure."

What else was she supposed to say? She didn't love the idea of sharing cutlery, but then she didn't like the idea of any of this. The two of them had already shared bodily fluids, so what difference would it make? She inhaled slowly, all too aware of his dried cum on her face. She had bigger things to worry about than whether he used the same spoon as her, and at least he'd asked for her opinion.

Maybe that was a small step forward.

Yeah, right. That's why I'm trussed up like a turkey!

"Thanks, little girl." His brow arched as he dipped the soup into his mouth and reflected on the taste.

Hell.She bit her lip, ignoring the way her nipples pebbled. How does he manage to look so good, even though he lives in the middle of nowhere? Her gaze flitted back to his face. And why do I even care? Look what he's done to me! Her fingers flexed in the binds. I must be losing it.

That's what was happening, she was certain. Exhausted and dehydrated, she was probably going mad.

"That's not bad." His smug tone should have been riling, but Ella was inclined to agree. If she had to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere with an unknown and oddly handsome psychopath, at least he was a decent chef. "I'm glad you like it."

He thrust the soup-laden spoon back in her direction, watching as she received it. She consented in silence, taking each one in turn as she enjoyed the flavors. It was like no meal she'd ever experienced before. Being naked and on her knees before a man who'd already overcome and come over her was the strangest repast of her life, and as she accepted the soup, she started to wonder if there was any coming back from the humiliating scene.

Could she ever be the same Ella who had holidayed in Mauritius and shopped with her pals at high-end stores? Would she ever be able to put this sorry incident behind her?

She clenched the muscles at the apex of her thighs, hideously conscious of how turned-on the denigration was making her, yet entirely powerless to regain any sort of composure.

At least I'm getting some sustenance.

It was well overdue.

"It's good to see you eat." He looked content as he helped her to finish the bowl. Placing the spoon back in the empty bowl, he moved them to the floor at the end of the bed. "I'm sorry I didn't offer you a meal earlier."

"You were too busy fucking me, sir." Or, fucking me over. She smirked as he inched back toward her. Both sentiments were true.

"Correct." His hand fell to her left breast, his fingertips circling her hardening bud. "You are so damn fuckable."

"Guilty."

He wasn't the first man to tell her so. Ella had ridden plenty of hard cocks, and yet bizarrely, she realized she did care what he thought. She shouldn't care. She knew that, yet she had to be honest with herself. Tucker hadn't forced himself on her. She'd wanted him. Christ, as she remembered it, she'd been frantic for him.

"Yes, you are." His voice was a soft purr as he tugged her nipple. Shoots of hot arousal sparked in her brain, sending electricity coursing around her body. "You can be a very bad girl."

Heat burned in her cheeks, although she still couldn't understand how or why his words and touch were able to affect her so much. Ella had enjoyed rough sex before, but she'd never known a chemistry as visceral as this. His every caress was able to command her, as though he understood the secrets of her body. But that didn't make sense. How could he? She supposed he was just good at this. Just as experienced as his age suggested.

"You must make me bad then, sir." She gasped as his digits pressed harder at her teat.

"You're blaming me?" He grinned, revealing his oddly perfect teeth. Once more, she wondered how a guy who lived in the middle of the woods could afford, and access, such great dentistry.

"I'm your prisoner, aren't I?" Her heart galloped as she admitted it aloud.

There should not be anything erotic about being held against her will—especially somewhere as grim as Tucker's cabin—so why was her whimper at his pinch one of need rather than fear and disgust?

"Prisoner is a strong word." His hand slid into her hair and eased her head backward. "I like to think of you as more of a guest."

"A guest?" She might have laughed at his absurdity had she not been so brutally bound. "Is this how you treat all of your guests, sir?"

"I don't have other guests." His lips lowered and softly grazed over hers, and God help her, she adored the sensation. The feel of his stubble against her skin was divine, each graze inciting moisture at her core. "You're the first, little girl."

I'm the first?

Tucker was giving her whiplash. One moment, he seemed content to treat her like an animal, and the next, he behaved like this—lulling her with seductive words and sparking electricity throughout her body.

She couldn't keep up with his changes of tack.

"Can I get up now, sir?" Her knees were killing her. His hardwood floor was the worst sort to be forced to kneel on for long periods. Not that Ella had ever knelt before. Until Tucker, she thought she preferred to be on top.

"You'd better." His voice was a sensual growl as he pressed his temple gently against her forehead. "Otherwise, I might be forced to busy that mouth of yours again."

Fuck. The way he puts that.

His breath was warm on her face as she imagined all the awful and breathtaking ways he could keep the orifice busy.

It wasn't right that a man who'd treated her so unfairly could have such a profound impact on her or that she was so drawn to his scent and the illicit look in his eyes. As he drew away, she could scarcely catch her breath.

What's wrong with me?

"Your arms and shoulders might be sore for a while." He rose to his feet and stood before her as he leaned forward to tackle her binds. Her face was compelled against his trouser-clad groin as he worked, his stance helping her to inadvertently breathe in the aroma of his recent arousal.

Not that that's anything new. She closed her eyes as he tugged at her right wrist. I can smell his cum all over me.

She swallowed at the ignominy. No man had ever come over her face before, let alone in such a savage way. The humiliation of the act merged with her desire and exhaustion. Tucker had degraded her by binding her and using her mouth as it suited him, but despite her indignation and anger, his show of authority had also turned her on. Somehow, even as he pressed his body against her and slipped her second wrist from the bondage, she could still feel that same thrum of arousal.

I want him.She pressed her thighs together as best she could. Why do I still want him?

"Oh, Jesus." Her arms fell like lead to her sides, the pain rearing as she was finally released. Relief flooded her body, combining with the agony. "It hurts."

She used to think she was stoic—that she could handle herself and take what life threw at her—but she realized that was probably because her easy existence had thrown few challenges, aside from where to lunch after the spa. Only a couple of days with Tucker had proved her theory wrong. It hadn't taken him long to push her right to the edge of her pain threshold and, if she didn't know better, to her sanity.

"It's okay." Reaching for the bed, he yanked the blue blanket from it and draped the cover over her. "I've got you."

He has me.

The thought echoed in her mind as she breathed in his tempting aroma. Was that supposed to be reassuring? Yet, as he lowered in a flash and swept her from her feet, she accepted that perhaps it was. She thought fleetingly to fend him off, but the loud ache in her shoulders persuaded her not to even bother. Instead, she buried her face in his chest as he sat on the bed and held her close.

She refused to acknowledge the strength of feeling passing over her as he tucked her closer or that the emotion was no longer only terror, anxiety, or indignation. There was something else now, and not just the hedonism that had grown wings in the last few hours, but something disturbing and deeper.

Somehow, deep down, affection stirred, a strange and unusual friend she had not expected to find in the confines of Tucker's cabin.

Affection?Confusion flitted in her mind as she tried to make sense of the realization. How can there be any affection for the man who's taken me?

"What's happening here, Tucker?" She supposed she should call him sir as she hugged her arms around her chest, and yet her confusion and the pain in her shoulders made it difficult to remember why the honorific was so important.

He seemed to want to soothe her, but yet hadn't he been the one who'd caused the hurt?

None of it made sense.

"I mean," she clarified. "You do these things to me, then tell me you want to take care of me…"

His narrowing gaze provoked the word he wanted from her lips.

"Sir." She added it in a whisper, hoping it would suffice.

"Nothing's changed." His reply was soft. "You're still mine until your father pays up, but…" His voice trailed away, and she noticed how his gaze flitted to the window.

"But?" she prompted.

"But I can't deny how much you affect me." His jaw tightened as his attention slid back to her. "And not just the sex, little girl, but you. I want to know you."

What does that mean?The butterflies in her tummy flapped their wings as they tried to guess. He wants to know me? But how? Why?

Maybe he feels it, too.She blinked up at him, the thought disconcerting. Perhaps whatever this emotion is, he senses it as well.

"You do the same to me." She didn't know why she was admitting it, but wrapped up in his arms, she felt deceptively safe.

Safe?

That's ridiculous! I'm not safe in the arms of the man who captured and hurt me.

Yet, gazing into his eyes, she realized that was how she felt. He was so strong and capable, as though she'd finally found someone real to lean on, yet he'd used that strength and ability to hold and capture her. She wasn't stupid enough to fall for a man like him, was she? Had she been so badly burned by Alexander that she fell into the arms of the first Daddy substitute she found?

"Do I?" He sounded genuinely intrigued. "Well, that's…" His voice trailed away as though he was struggling for the right word. "Good."

An anxious silence rose as they both struggled to make sense of their feelings.

"Come with me." He rose to his feet, leaving her little choice as he lifted her in the blanket and carried her toward the door. "There's something I want to show you."