Chapter Nine

Andrew

I knew full well she’d recognize me the moment I spoke, if not before. Hell, we’d been up close and personal only hours ago. A kiss that had turned my cock rock-solid and had every fantasy and wet dream I’d had about her colliding like some massive astrological event.

“Will an apology help?” I said beside her ear and breathing in the peaches-and-cream scent of her hair.

“Letting me go will help, and if you do it now, perhaps we can keep this between us and I won’t go to the police about you and your thuggish friends.”

“What if I said one of us is the police?”

“What? Are you crazy?” She tried to turn to look at me.

“I’m crazy, all right, crazy about you,” I said.

She didn’t reply but she was breathing fast, her cute tits pressing up against her white t-shirt.

Didn’t the woman own a bra?

“But you know that, right?” I continued. “In fact, you’ve brought it on yourself.”

“How can you possibly say that?”

“Sitting in my lecture theater masturbating, coming to my office, tempting me with your sexy little smiles and sweet perfume.” I ducked my head to her neck and let my lips graze her flesh. “And then coming straight here, at my first invitation, for a good fucking.” I paused. “You can’t deny that’s why you came here.”

She huffed in frustration and yanked at the ropes, trying to get her arms free.

“You might as well relax,” I said, smoothing my index finger along the pale insides of her left arm, wrists to elbow, and back down again. The light hit her inner wrist, showing the delicate blue veins beneath the surface of her skin. “You’re going to be here a while. Relax.”

“What is this place?”

I circled back around her, took the gun from the small of my back, and set it on the table.

“What the fuck?” She stared at it.

“Tool of the trade.” I pulled my mask down. There was no point hiding anymore.

“What bloody trade? I thought you were a professor.”

“I am.” I grabbed another chair and directly sat in front of her. “Some of the time.”

“What does that mean?”

She was staring at me with an expression of disbelief and confusion. I didn’t give her an answer. She’d figure it out soon enough, or some of it.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“For want of a better word, it’s a safe house.”

She frowned at me. “I don’t feel very safe right now.”

“You are.”

She pouted her kissable lips. Intelligence and frustration danced in her eyes.

“It’s collectively owned,” I said, “by myself and the guys you just met. There’s a few more, but they couldn’t be here…” I sucked in a breath and thought of Finn and Grant behind bars. “And girls, women, who work the streets use it as a place of business.”

“Prostitutes?” Her eyes widened.

“Yes. Prostitutes.”

“You run a brothel?”

“Not exactly.”

She was quiet for a moment, then, “I have no judgement. If that’s how they want to make their money.” She shrugged.

“Neither do we, which is why we run this place.” I set my hands on her warm knees, over her skirt, and leaned forward. “Prostitutes are the most at risk from winding up dead in back alleys and no one giving a damn fuck about them if they’re raped and murdered. We aim to right that.”

“And your payment is free fucks?” She tipped her head.

“What? No!” I straightened and folded my arms. “I’m not one of their customers, none of us are.”

“So what are you to them?”

“Protectors is probably the best word.” I paused and glanced at the ceiling. “We watch over them, make sure their punters don’t get free and easy with their fists or worse. We also don’t take any of their earnings, instead we encourage them to save and then move on to a less risky career. Start afresh. Get a bona fide job.”

She said nothing, just studied me with narrowed eyes.

“We’ve had lots of success, or rather they have. They’re smart girls, talented in some cases, and have more to offer than just their bodies.”

“This is all very noble of you.” Her nostrils flared. “But what has it got to do with me?”

I nodded slowly.

“Andrew?”

“We have a situation. We need cash.”

“How much?”

“Four million.”

“Ha!” She laughed. “And you think my father will cough that up for me? He might give the impression of being rich, but his funds are all tied up, property, shares, stocks and all that. He can’t pay you that much in cash.”

“He’ll have to.” I sat forward again, this time slipping my hands beneath her skirt to rest on her bare knees. “And soon.”

“Or else? You just promised not to hurt me, or are you a liar as well as a creep?”

“Creep?” I tipped closer and stared into her eyes.

Her bottom lip quivered slightly.

“You might think I’m a creep, but fuck…you’re beautiful, Chelsea Taylor, and you get more beautiful every bloody day.”

Her breaths quickened.

“From the first moment I saw you.” I paused and remembered the day she walked into my lecture theater. A flame of beauty, poised, charming, sharp-witted and so off limits I had to do my best to ignore her for years.

Three years of torture for my cock.

“From the first moment you saw me,” she repeated breathily.

“I wanted you. Wanted you so bad.” I moved my hands upward, sliding my palms along her warm thighs, her skirt concertinaing at my wrists. “And all that time I had to resist.”

“Andrew,” she gasped. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“What’s real is the gaping chasm of need inside me.” I slid higher and discovered she wasn’t wearing panties. Jesus Christ, give me strength. “My need for you is very real.” My cock surged.

Her eyes flashed, and her body tensed further.

I let a smile play on my lips. “You’re a bad girl.”

“You’re the one holding me captive.” Her breasts hitched upward, the flesh wobbling delicately. “Doesn’t that make you the villain?”

I bit on my bottom lip, found her clit with my thumb, slid it over it and then around it.

She gasped, her mouth a perfect ‘O’. I’d never seen her more beautiful or sexy as in that moment.

“You think I’m a villain?” I murmured, my nose almost touching hers now.

She swallowed and widened her legs a little.

I stroked lower, exploring the soft, damp folds of her pussy.

“Yes,” she said, her pupils dilating. “Fuck yes.”

* * * *

Chelsea

I stared into Andrew’s familiar face. He had the upper hand, as per usual, and now as his captive I was at his mercy.

I tugged at the ropes around my wrists. They were bound tight and didn’t budge. The same with my ankles. He could do what the heck he wanted with my body.

“You wanted me to fuck you in my office yesterday,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes. And I know you wanted to fuck me.”

“I did…oh hell yeah, I really did.” His lips moved on mine. “I wanted to rip off your skirt, bend you over my desk, and fuck you until you screamed my name.”

I caught my breath as he found my entrance and slid one finger into me. It wasn’t nearly enough. I’d gone from being terrified to being massively turned on, and that, it seemed, wasn’t something that could be turned off when it was the man I’d obsessed about for years touching me.

“You feel amazing,” he murmured. “Warm and wet…so wet. Tell me, is this how wet you were in my lecture theater?”

“Yes.” I nodded, and my belly tensed. He’d caught my clit again. “I’m wet whenever you’re around.”

“And it seems being tied up only adds to that wetness.” He set his stubbled cheek against mine and breathed deep.

I bit on my bottom lip; he was toying with my clit, just the way I liked. The way I fretted myself when he was giving a lecture.

And he kept on going, working me, pushing me to the point the pressure was growing.

“I know you want this,” he said. “You want me to make you come.”

I wasn’t going to argue with that. I was getting closer. Deliciously close. “Andrew…”

“Such a sweet little clit,” he said, looking into my eyes again. “And so responsive.”

“I’m…I’m going to come…” I widened my legs as much as possible and canted my hips, bucking into his touch.

He withdrew his hand from beneath my skirt.

“What!” I wailed, frustration a tsunami crashing through me. “What are you doing? Fucking hell!”

I jerked, cursing my binds. My clit had been about to explode into pleasure. The blissful release had been just about to happen.

He chuckled and lifted his fingers to his nose, sniffed them. “It’s not fun, is it?”

“What? What isn’t bloody fun?” I snapped and squeezed my eyes closed.

“Being teased.”

“So don’t do it.”

“But you’ve teased me all this time. For so long.”

“How have I?”

“Just by breathing.” He shoved his hand down his pants and appeared to adjust himself. “Not easy giving lectures with a boner, you know.”

“And you know what’s worse than being kidnapped? Being kidnapped then brought to the edge of orgasm and denied.” I glared at him.

“Poor baby.” He leaned forward again, big hands on my thighs. “Want me to help you out with that? You can’t do anything about it yourself for once.”

“Yes, finish what you started.”

“Sir.”

“Sir,” I managed through gritted teeth, though the word did sound nice to my ears. “Make me come, sir.”

He gave me a wickedly sexy grin then palmed up my inner thighs. I was damn hot, I could smell my arousal, and when he touched my clit again, I closed my eyes and groaned, letting my head fall back.

“Come if you can.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of my throat. “My sweet little Chelsea.”

I was panting, the pressure there instantly. He was rubbing my clit with the pads of two fingers and he’d also entered me with what felt like two fingers. I bucked, the legs of the chair scraping on the floor. “Oh! Yes…fuck…yes.” I cried out. “Don’t stop…oh…”

Again he stopped, withdrew, his touch and body heat gone in an instant.

I wailed, or was it a scream? I certainly put the full force of my lungs into it. “Bastard! You utter bastard.”

“Hey, Prof, you okay in there?” A bang on the door.

“Yeah, leave us the fuck alone!”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I can handle her.”

I glared at him. I was breathing hard, my pulse thudding. “That’s where you’re wrong. You have no idea how I need handling.”

“Really now?” He shoved at my skirt again and plunged two fingers into me, then he ducked his head and breathed deep, sniffing my pussy. “’Cause it seems to me I know just how to handle you, you’re so turned on I’d smell you a mile away.”

“Don’t be a sick twat.”

“You gonna carry on with the name-calling.” He found my clit again. “’Cause it’s gonna get you a spanking. A really hard spanking that will turn your ass cheeks bright red for days.”

My inner thighs tensed, all my focus was on my clit. He was fingering it again—I had to come fast before he withdrew.

Heat blustered up my neck and to my cheeks. I held my breath, concentrating.

He was staring straight at me. His eyes, so close, had been part of my fantasies for so long. And now, here he was, about to topple me into an orgasm. My heart clattered, and my fists clenched. And then it was there, a chaotic, fast, sharp orgasm that had me crying out and curling my toes. It slammed through me, and to my relief he stayed with me, not denying me the stimulation I needed to get full satisfaction.

His mouth caught mine, his tongue probing in determinedly. I was weeping for him, soaking his hand, and my entire body felt as though it was sparkling as I spasmed.

“You’re fucking beautiful when you come,” he said against my lips. “And I reckon being tied up, and having to wait for it, made you come all the harder.”

I was panting, fighting to catch my breath. I said nothing, just stared at his flushed cheeks and wide pupils.

He’d enjoyed teasing me and having me captive; that much was obvious.

After a few minutes he stepped out of the room.

I had a proper look around and tried to avoid letting my focus land on the gun on the table. Though in truth, if I could escape this chair and grab it, I would get the hell out of this safe house, or brothel or whatever the heck it was.

He came back in with a glass of water. He took a slug then held it to my mouth. I gulped, some spilling down my cheek and landing on my t-shirt, wetting over my nipples.

“I need to pee.”

“What?” he said.

“You heard me, I need to pee. Where’s the bathroom?”

He muttered something then stooped behind me. The ropes loosened, and I freed my hands, rubbing my red wrists.

He did the same with my ankles, and I stood, my skirt falling back into place. My thighs were tacky from being so aroused.

“This way.” He locked his fingers with mine and hauled me from the room. We came to a stop third door on the right, next to some stairs, and he pulled it open. “Be quick. I’ll wait here.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes.” I tipped my chin, stepped in, and flicked the lock.

“Leave it unlocked, goddamn it.”

I ignored him. There was a small window above the cistern. Figuring it was just about big enough for me to shimmy out of, I dropped the toilet lid and climbed up.

“Chelsea, unlock the door.”

“I can’t now. I’m peeing.”

He made a grunting sound.

I opened the window. Dusk was arriving now, the sky lilac and pink. After tucking my hair behind my ears, I hauled myself upward. It took a bit of wriggling, but soon I was dangling from the other side, contemplating the five-feet drop.

My landing was a bit awkward, my feet slapping onto some dry earth, but nothing was sprained or broken.

After glancing left and right to get my bearings, I headed around the side of the house, back toward where Big Brute had grabbed me. My heart was thudding, my adrenaline spiking. Soon I would be out of here.

But I didn’t get far.

“You fucking little brat.”

For the second time I was snatched by big arms. This time it was Andrew, and he wasted not a second before he threw me over his shoulder and slapped his hand on my ass.

“What the…? Get off me.” My world turned upside down, and I grasped his belt for stability.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, striding back into the house.

“Escaping from you and your lunatic friends,” I shouted and kicked. “Let me go, you’ll all do years for this, I tell you, years, my dad will get the best lawyers.”

“I really don’t think you understand who’s in charge here.” He marched me past what seemed to be a woman and three of his men—all I could see was his legs and the floor. “But it’s time you learned that lesson, here and now.”