CHAPTER SIX
Cameron
She walks around the hut with its fifty-thousand-dollar artwork and profusion of fresh tropical flowers. It’s a beautiful place. She belongs in a beautiful place, one without the tawdry undercurrent of Malaking Kuta.
Her gaze studiously avoids the silk-covered bed on the platform.
Slender fingers brush the top of a carved belalu wood cabinet. “What did you mean when you said you wouldn’t give me back?” Blue eyes seek mine, beseeching and brave. “Will you take me to Detroit?”
I shake my head without saying anything.
“What about after—” Her confidence falters. “After you use me?”
Another shake of my head. And for emphasis: “No.”
“This was only supposed to be for one night.”
I push away from the doorframe where I’d lingered, approaching her, feeling like a tiger stalking his prey. She fidgets with the fabric barely covering her luscious body. The strips of fabric only highlight her nakedness. “Is that what you agreed to do for Curtis? You must love him very much to offer your body for his debts.”
“No.” A blush tints her cheeks. It spreads down her neck and across her breasts. “He lied to me. He said it was some kind of plan to drum up interest. That I wouldn’t really have to sleep with anyone. Only right before did he tell me the truth.”
Misery darkens her eyes. Hurt because he betrayed her? There’s a lot I’m willing to do for this woman. Comfort her while she cries over another man isn’t one of them. I run a hand along her shoulder and down her arm. I push aside the drape over her breast and expose her nipple. It hardens in the cool island air, and I pinch it gently between thumb and forefinger. “I should see what I’ve paid for, shouldn’t I? I should see what you’ve been giving Curtis.”
She shivers, and I pinch harder. I want her to know the danger she was in. The things those men and women would have done to her would have marked her—body and soul. I don’t blame her for trusting the man she meant to marry, but part of me wants to punish her for it. After all, she’s mine. I own her now. I get to punish her regardless of whether she’s done anything wrong.
I tug on the silk, and it unravels in a whisper of assent, sliding down her body.
Then she’s standing there naked, her breasts small and high, her waist narrow, her hips flaring, the perfect size for me to grasp and fuck hard. Between her legs she has a small patch of trimmed dark hair matching the curls on her head.
“Are you going to hurt me?” she whispers.
I stare into her luminous brown eyes. “That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
Depends on how much it hurts her to fuck a man she doesn’t love. To spread her legs while I kiss her and then to open her mouth while I press my cock inside. It depends on how she’ll feel back in Tanglewood, my newest and most prized possession. I’m not letting her go. I’m also not fooling myself. She didn’t love me in Detroit. It’s unlikely that buying her will change that.
I push two fingers into her mouth, feeling the slick of her teeth and the soft wet of her tongue. She’s obedient as she sucks my fingers. Once they’re nice and damp, I drag them down the median of her body, down to her pretty little cunt. Her legs are barely wide enough to fit my hand, but I force my way in. I made her lick my fingers so they’d be slick, but I shouldn’t have worried. She’s already soaked. I press between her legs hard, and she gasps, rising onto her toes. I’ll always take care of her, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on her either. It won’t be easy for her to be my possession.
I use the curl of my fingers to drag her close, and her eyes roll back in pleasure. I catch her body with my other arm, lifting her to suck on her nipple. She’s so goddamn receptive to everything I do, it’s like she was made for me. “It depends on how much you fight me,” I whisper against her cheek, finally answering her question. “I’ll give you everything you want, anything you want. Travel, purses. I don’t give a fuck what you buy or what you do when I’m at work, but when we’re in the bedroom, you submit to me. Whatever I say goes.”
My thumb brushes her clit for good measure.
She squirms against me, her naked skin against my dress shirt and slacks. She’s completely naked while I’m still fully clothed. Well, she had better get used to that. It’s how we’ll spend much of our time together. Her lids are low but her eyes focused. “Cameron Kidwell. I’ve known you since you were twelve years old.”
And I’ve loved her as long as that. “Yes.”
“You aren’t only talking about tonight, are you?”
“You’ve been engaged once before, Briana.” I pump my fingers in and out of her, dragging her mercilessly to the edge. “You should recognize a marriage proposal when you hear one.”
EPILOGUE
Briana
As I stared at the text message from my husband and light reflected from my beautiful three-carat diamond wedding ring, a smile crept upon my lips.
For nearly nine months, I’d been Mrs. Briana Kidwell.
Not Mrs. Curtis Kidwell.
No, Curtis was back in Michigan, awaiting trial for illegal activity connected to his appliance empire. While I never asked my husband if he had a hand in Curtis’s fate, I suspected that he had. Cameron believed in justice. Curtis’s financial and ethical downfall was his repercussion for tricking me. Auctioning me was supposed to save his businesses. Instead, it was the cause of their demise. All of his stores were currently tied up in litigation.
Thankfully, I wasn’t married to him.
I was Mrs. Cameron Kidwell.
The twelve-year-old boy I’d once known did more than save me over a year ago on Malaking Kuta. He used, ravished, and broke me, only to rebuild me. The result of his both painful and pleasure-filled devotion was evident by the twisting of my core as well as the ridiculous smile upon my face brought on by a one-word text message.
“PREPARE.”
Doing what he did for Gabriel Miller sometimes took Cameron away from home. For three days and two nights I’d been on my own with only our house staff, to do as I pleased. That wasn’t completely accurate. I could lunch or dine with friends, shop to my heart’s content, read or watch TV. I could spend time working on any aspects of the boutique I was about to open in the town where we lived. It would be Tanglewood’s exclusive supplier of Sinful Threads accessories and apparel. There was one exception.
My husband was lenient and generous with most things.
He’d set the rules the night he’d bought me.
There was one place where everything was different.
The memory of his deep voice sounded in my mind, scattering goose bumps over my skin as it had nearly a year ago. “I’ll give you everything you want, anything you want. Travel, purses. I don’t give a fuck what you buy or what you do when I’m at work, but when we’re in the bedroom, you submit to me. Whatever I say goes.”
My sexual pleasure was to come only from him. I wasn’t allowed to spend our nights apart with the help of a vibrator or even my own touch. If I did, I’d be punished.
The idea of lying over his strong legs, his erection probing my tummy as he reddened my ass didn’t deter me. No, Cameron knew I enjoyed that too much. My punishment would be denying me sexual pleasure. I’d be denied his cock and orgasms. No amount of begging, no matter how demeaning, would change his mind.