Chapter Eighteen

Limits

Ella

Her heart pounded as he placed her back on her feet by the fireplace. She turned to watch him close and lock the door, conscious that he was still her abductor, yet also aware of the way he seemed able to make her feel, and boy, could he make her ‘feel.' Ella couldn't ever remember feeling so much before—so much heat, tension, and pleasure. She'd never felt more alive.

He could be a cold coercer. Her aching shoulders were a testament to how cruel he could be, yet when he threw her a smile, it commanded all the butterflies in her belly to flutter and tightened the knot of excitement in her tummy.

She did like him. She'd told him that much, hadn't she? But worse was the fact he was right—she'd also enjoyed the things he'd done.

Not all of them.

She peered at the leaping flames, adamant about that much. She definitely hadn't appreciated the way he'd thrown her over his shoulder. Or the dreadful way he'd bound her, then had the audacity to empty his load all over her vulnerable face. Yet even as she processed the thought, on some level, she acknowledged it was a lie. She had relished her degradation. She hadn't wanted to. She didn't want to be turned on by his overt displays of strength and authority, but she realized she had been aroused by the treatment—terribly, terribly aroused.

Even more worryingly, Tucker knew it, too.

"Sit." He pointed to the floor, his gaze steely as he watched her comply. "I'm going to eat, then we're going to talk."

"Okay, sir." She yanked the blanket around her, all too aware of her nudity without its protection.

The floor was hard and unyielding, its wooden boards doing little to assuage her recently punished behind and aching knees, but at least her belly was full, and she was close to the fire. Plus, she and her oddly alluring captor seemed to be getting on better than before, and whatever her concerns about their complicated mutual desire, that had to be good news.

Keeping him on her side was going to be imperative if she was going to get through this, and deep down, she knew she had to get through it. Ella had reserves of strength she hadn't even realized existed until her father had dumped her in Tucker's apparent ‘care'. However deep that well went, she was going to need her mettle now.

She glanced up briefly to watch him cut a slice of pie and bite into the pastry. Her stomach lurched as she recalled the bunny that had died for the meal. Poor little bunny. Pulling in air, she peered back at the fire, frantic not to dwell.

Trying to focus on something other than the rabbit pie he was eating, Ella's concentration raked over all the things she'd been through since she'd woken under the giant tree. Tucker had done things to her no one had ever done before. He'd spanked her, stripped her while she'd been unconscious, and helped himself to her sex. Sure, she knew she'd wanted his fingers and had yearned for the climax they'd inspired, but still—he hadn't given her the chance to say no. Tucker was prepared to take what didn't belong to him.

She trembled as she considered his resolve. He had no right to treat her the way he did, yet his dominance inspired the type of burning need no other lover ever had. It wasn't only his physicality—the dark brown hair, wicked blue eyes, and the lean, muscular body—that fired her up. It was also the way he held himself, his demeanor and confidence—now those were sexy. Whether she liked to admit it or not, Tucker Bowman was scintillating.

"I was starving." His chuckle drew her attention to his face again. "And that pie was good."

She cringed but didn't counter his enthusiasm.

"Don't pull that face." He shook his head as he pulled a chair from the counter toward the place where she knelt by the hearth. "You might not approve, but I do."

"Fair enough." Her gaze scanned over the bottom of his trousers, now only a few inches from where the blue blanket covered her knee, protests rising in her mind. How did he have the right to sit on furniture while she was forced to the floor? How did he have the right to do any of this?And why is it making me so horny? "Sir."

The muscles at her sex clenched at the same time as she accepted the final word. True, he was making her use the honorific under the threat of more, no doubt even greater, punishment, but she couldn't deny how fucking hot the concession was making her.

"Very good, little girl." His hand rose to her chin and skimmed over her jaw. "You remembered how to address me."

She suppressed the smile that threatened to rise at his praise. God only knew, there was little to smile about. Her father had sold her to a stranger, and the enigma that was Tucker seemed hellbent on denigrating her to within an inch of her life, a whim she apparently appeared to enjoy. Her head was practically spinning as she tried to accept that her desire was amplified by his spiteful and unusual penances.

"I remember, sir." She shifted on her knees, wishing inwardly that he'd had the foresight to carpet the place before he'd brought her here. At least, for the first time since she'd got there, she wasn't bound. That was a promising sign…

"But that doesn't mean you're right." She lifted her gaze to meet his.

"About what?" One of his dark eyebrows arched, his interest ostensibly piqued by her assertion.

"Me."

She swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was. Sure, Tucker was attractive, and it was true she was sometimes aroused at the way he treated her, but there was no way she was going to admit it to him.

"Oh, really?" He leaned forward, his lips curling as he patted her on the top of her head.

Who the hell did he think he was? Irritation spiked at his condescension. She wasn't some small animal he could pet. She wasn't an animal at all, and anyway, Ella had seen the way he treated small animals. She didn't want to end up in his next pie.

"Tell me more, little girl," he purred.

"I don't like the way you've been treating me." Her face flamed at the imminent lie, watching his hand as it fell to the side of his chair. The heat of the fire warmed her back, though somehow, her face felt hotter. "Whatever you think, I don't get off on this." Or, I wish I didn't… She pulled in a shaky breath.

"Is that right?" His dark chuckle assured her that he knew her statement was bullshit. "I don't believe you, little girl."

"Well, it's true," she insisted.

Why was she blushing? Ella used to be adept at deception, lying to and manipulating men to suit herself, but for some reason, her body seemed determined to give her away to Tucker.

"So… if I spanked you again, I wouldn't find you getting wetter every time my palm met your delicious cheeks?"

"Spank me?" She avoided his question on purpose. "Why would you do that, sir?"

Why did I ask?

She should have been reminding him how she didn't deserve a so-called spanking, how no one had the right to treat her that way, yet as she stared at his blue eyes, all she could think about was what it would be like to feel the brunt of his palm against her ass again. His strikes were hard and had hurt, but as the pain had grown, the sensation had morphed into pleasure. So much fucking pleasure. Even during the first spanking in the forest, she'd become shamefully wet at the onslaught.

"We've already established I'll spank you as a punishment." His eyes sparkled as he no doubt also recalled the previous penances. "But there is another type of spanking."

"Oh?" Her voice was embarrassingly hoarse. "What's that, sir?"

"Well, little girl." He moved to the front of the chair, closing the distance between their faces. "I could spank you for fun."

For fun?

Her breath hitched at the possibility. There should have been absolutely nothing fun about being thrown over a man's lap and made to submit to his enormous and furious palm, yet experience had taught her that, whatever her qualms, there could be. ‘Fun' might have been pushing it, but she had relished elements of her spankings.

"For fun?" she probed.

"Sorry?" His clipped tone sent her heart racing faster again.

"Sir," she added quickly.

Shit, how had she forgotten? Apprehension soared in her as she tried to decipher the intense look in his eyes. Was he angry or simply toying with her? Neither response would have surprised her.

"You'll do well to remember, Ella." His wry tone suggested she wasn't really in trouble, but the firmness laced within it suggested she shouldn't truly relax.

Yes, Tucker had relented in the last hour. He'd fed and consoled her before taking her outside and showing her the peculiar little flowers that seemed to fascinate him. But whatever the case, he was still her jailor, the man who decided if she ate, slept, or would ever walk free again. She'd be wise to remember who he was.

"I'm sorry, sir." Her fingers blanched as she gripped the blanket tighter. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm sure." His expression gave nothing away as one of his huge hands rose to steady the side of her face. She stilled at his touch, wondering what was coming next. "But the rule is clear, and from now on, you will call me sir, or you'll learn what other kinds of punishments I can come up with. Maybe you'll like those, too."

Like those, too?

She tensed at his mocking tone. She never had a choice, she realized, but to succumb and give him what he wanted. The fact she might actually enjoy the address he sought was irrelevant. To stay safe, she'd need to remember to use it.

"Okay, sir."

She forced the words out, her emotions trapped somewhere between terror and exhilaration. Tucker fascinated her, yet she sensed it was sensible to fear him. An ex-soldier with access to ample cash and other assets, he was inherently dangerous, but his cavalier approach to her welfare told her he had the potential to be lethal.

Like those strange little flowers again…

"I bet,"—his breath was warm against her face—"if I spanked you again now, I'd make that sumptuous little pussy wetter than it's ever been."

"You wouldn't, sir." Her tongue ran reflexively along the back of her teeth. She was breathing faster, disclosing her deception despite her best intentions not to.

"You're lying to me again, little girl." The resonance oozing from his voice was less disapproval and more amusement. His lips were so close, she hoped he'd lean in and kiss her, but however close he got, his mouth never seemed to skim hers. "If you can't accept the truth, even to yourself, then it's time I proved it to you."