Chapter Three

Rag Doll

Tucker

Trudging the arduous route back to the cabin, Tucker brooded on recent events. Yes, he'd got her back, but in some ways, that was more by luck than judgment. He just happened to have spotted her earring and ascertained her likely destination, and he managed to get there in time and intercept the potential encounter between Ella and the bear.

Looking at her in his arms as he hiked back up the incline toward his home, her expression was the epitome of tranquility. He would never have known that she sped away from him for a second time nor that she was still refusing to see sense even as she provoked the bear.

"Little girl…" He sighed, caught between his conflicting emotions.

He was pleased to have intervened and seen off any potential harm, but he didn't appreciate having to take more time out of his day to carry her all the way back to the cabin—again.

"This has to stop."

The instruction was a message to himself as he hoisted Ella higher in his arms. She was like a rag doll in his arms, beautiful and entirely vulnerable. He could do anything he wanted to her while she was unconscious.

Anything.

He pulled in a sharp breath at the perturbing thought. He wasn't that man, was he? The things he'd done, both before Ella and since she'd been in his clutches, were bad enough, but he wouldn't consider ripping through any more boundaries, would he?

If only she wasn't such a challenge…

When he'd agreed to take Alexander's child as collateral, he'd gotten a lot more than he'd bargained for—more sass, more intelligence, and more rebellion—but he'd also received a woman who'd piqued more than only his interest.

He wanted Ella, and the more time he spent around her, the more he was starting to crave her.

It wasn't logical. In his past and murky experience, these things rarely were, but this woman was something else. For a start, she was someone he should never have met. Her father should never have offered her to him, and he should never have accepted.

But more than that, everything about her was wrong. She was wrong for him—too young, too indulged, and too feisty. Definitely not the kind of woman he wanted.

I didn't want anyone at all.

Until her.

Fuck.

He blew out another breath, ignoring his protesting biceps as he held her close. Even from this distance, he could detect the sweet scent of her skin.

I can't have her.His jaw tightened at the dose of reality. I won't.

Yet even as he accepted the thought, he doubted it.

Who was going to stop him from taking her? Not Ella. For all her mouth, she wasn't strong enough to fend him off, and there was nobody else around to save her. It was all down to him, his willpower and his determination. Based on the tightening at his core and the heat rising at her proximity, they were going to have a big problem.

"I have to be sensible." He declared it to a nearby bird as it hopped in the leaves, no doubt looking for its next meal. "I can't have her." As if the bird disagreed, it turned in his direction, bobbing its tiny head from left to right before taking flight and vanishing through the trees. "I can't."

After everything she'd been through, he couldn't force himself on her as well.

But what if I'm not… His temple ached at the revolving argument in his head. What if she wants me as well?

He'd seen the way her body had responded to him. How her pupils had dilated, and her breathing accelerated. Secretly, she longed for him, too, didn't she?

His gaze scanned her face again.

She does want me.

He bet Bennett had never seen this outcome coming when he'd put his only child forward as surety. Or maybe he just didn't care, Certainly, his actions suggested so. Dodging a low-hanging branch, his thoughts darted back to the cretin who'd fathered the woman in his arms.

Alexander Bennett.

He'd known the man for decades, and with each passing year, he liked him less. Bennett had always been a blight. A weak-willed guy with no backbone and little endearing characteristics, he'd been sitting on the periphery of Tucker's social arena for as long as he could recall. If he could call the collection of mono-syllabic assholes, he'd once known a social life.

Tucker remembered when they'd first met, the places they'd gone, the women they'd screwed, and the money they'd spent. Ironically, that was when Bennett had been wealthier than him. Or at least Bennett, Senior was.

He'd flashed his dad's cash around, too, mainly, Tucker believed, to show off in front of the others, although he wasn't blind to the benefits it had brought to the group. Bennett's cash had paid for luxury vacations, for penthouses where the champagne flowed for free and the staff never asked questions, and as much pussy as their cocks could handle. In those days, Tucker's sexual appetite had been voracious, but even his desire hadn't rivaled Bennett's…

"Mate." Bennett's tone oozed enthusiasm as he pushed the blonde's mouth further down his cock. Naturally, with her mouth full, her hands bound behind her back, and her ankles shackled, there was little she could do to complain. "You should try this one when I'm done. The back of her throat is magnificent."

"I'll bear that in mind." Tucker's focus barely flitted in Bennett's direction.

The brunette, who'd he'd only recently deposited two rounds of cum inside, had passed out at his side. Stretching out beside her, he nudged her further down the couch. He guessed the combination of his ravenous need and champagne, coupled with whatever white powder Bennett's other goons had brought with them, had been too much for her.

He didn't blame the naked woman. Tucker had made it a personal mission to never touch any of the stuff the other's smuggled in clear bags. He trusted the other men about as far as he could throw them.

"What about yours?" Bennett was talking again, bleating on in that same grating tone that seemed to suck the joy from any situation.

"What?" Tucker shot him a look, briefly taking in the blonde's struggle around his dick.

Poor her. On some level, he might have felt pity for her fate. He sensed he should. But then, she and her other friends had come here knowing what they would get—the dick, the powder, and the fizz—that was all that was on offer.

She should have known better.

"What was the brunette like?" Bennett gestured to the woman sprawled at Tucker's side, though why he was worried mid-blowjob was anyone's guess.

That was Tucker—a shallow and vacant specimen even compared to the rest of them. Glancing at the whirling ceiling fan, Tucker couldn't say why he spent time with him, or any of them for that matter.

"Fine." Tucker shrugged, unsure what else Bennett wanted to hear.

Sex was sex as far as he was concerned, a physical act he enjoyed that was as natural as pulling in his next breath. He needed it, sure, but he didn't think twice about the deed. The partner he chose and the quality of the act scarcely entered his radar. So long as he came and she never ended up pregnant, that was all he cared about.

"Do you recommend?" Bennett pushed the blonde away, her tits swinging as she grappled not to lose her balance and topple to the mink rug.

"She looks out for the count." Tucker signaled to the motionless woman at his side.

"And?" Rising from his seat, Bennett zipped up his fly as he turned to look at the brunette. "What difference does that make?"

Tucker noticed the way he didn't offer the blonde the same option to cover up. Hell, he hadn't even offered to release her. Stuck on her knees and out of breath, she looked understandably shell-shocked, but then Tucker supposed he hadn't exactly offered his previous partner much modesty. They were all as bad as each other.

"I like my partners to be awake." Tucker rolled his eyes. Even by Bennett's low standards, that was a base question to ask.

"What fucking difference does it make?" Bennett chuckled, reaching for a nearby glass of champagne and draining the contents.

"None, I suppose." Tucker's brows knitted. For a man who only cared about ejaculating, he realized his was a strange answer. If he didn't worry about his partner's pleasure, why take such umbrage with Bennett's proposal? "I just prefer them to be conscious."

"Let me look at her." Dismissing Tucker's defense, Bennett tugged at the brunette and rolled her onto her back. "She has a decent rack."

"Yeah." Fucking her from behind meant Tucker hadn't even noticed. "She has."

"That's all they're good for, ain't it?" Bennett snorted as he slammed the flute down onto the glass table behind him. "Tits and three holes."

The blonde on her knees mewled at his quip, her mascara-smeared eyes widening as though she'd only just acknowledged who she was locked into the penthouse suite with.

"Where are the others?" Bennett yawned, gazing out at the cityscape of the stretched panoramic windows.

"I don't know."

Tucker couldn't care less. He struggled to count any of them as allies. Friends were an accessory his life didn't require, and if his plans came together, then his future in the military would be a lot simpler than their current lifestyle of depravity.

"The bedrooms, perhaps?" Bennett peered around at the numerous doors leading from the suite's main lounge. "I'll go and see if anyone wants another line." He pulled a small bag of powder from his trouser pocket. "I take it you don't?"

"No." Tucker shook his head. "I don't touch the stuff."

"I still don't get it." Bennett's smile was wry as he licked his finger and stuck it into the bag. "This is good stuff."

"It's poison."

Tucker yearned for a humbler existence. Not that he expected a meathead like Bennett to understand that. Men like Bennett would never stop. He'd snort, fuck and gamble his way into hell. Tucker just hoped he wouldn't be there to see it.

Tucker had his eye on a clearing in the middle of nowhere. There, he planned to build his own cabin and live out his days in peace. No drugs, no alcohol, and no whining Bennett. The only problem he'd yet to resolve was how to live without the sex. Chastity wasn't a way of life he longed for.

"You're an idiot." Bennett shook his head as he sucked on the drug-covered digit and skulked off toward one of the bedrooms. "But it's your loss."

"Hey, what about her?" Tucker gestured toward the woman inching away on her knees.

"What about her?"

"What am I supposed to do with her?" Tucker was getting a headache. Couldn't Bennett clean up his own mess?

"Whatever you like," came the reply. "I'll be back for your brunette soon."

Snapping out of the memory, Tucker realized he'd paused between two parallel trees with Ella still in his arms. His throat dried as the memory of her father's behavior echoed in his mind. He wasn't much better, of course, and Bennett had known as much. He'd seen the way Tucker treated women. Hell, he'd been even more of a repugnant jerk.

The swirling memories merged to reveal the one screaming question that had plagued Tucker since he'd pushed Bennett to repay what he owed.

"Why would he have given you to me?"

True, Tucker was a different man from the one who'd hung out with Bennett, but her father hadn't known that. Aside from the time he'd come pleading for cash, the two men had barely even associated with each other for more than a decade.

Tucker had learned to not only live without women but not to miss the sex. Until Ella, his libido hadn't bothered him one iota, the fresh air and wilderness more than compensating for any alleged loss. On the odd occasion when his arousal amplified, he dealt with the matter, but he hadn't needed a partner for a long time.

Hadn't even thought about having one.

Until her.

Ella. With her long legs, tempting breasts, and sweet smile. Ella with her smart mouth and neverending sass.

What was he going to do with her?

It didn't seem to matter that she loathed him or was at least intimidated by his presence. If he was honest, her fear had become an aphrodisiac in its own right.

It was time he truly gave her something to be afraid of.