Page 36 of Taken Online

His words weren’t a request.

I should’ve said no. I should’ve fought. But I felt the command root in my chest like it belonged there. I closed my eyes.

His cologne washed over me like a wave; clean, sharp, and warm. I felt him move behind me. Then cloth brushed my forehead. A blindfold. He tied it firmly behind my head, knot tight. Darkness consumed me.

“Open.”

I opened my eyes to nothing. Blind. Breathless. Floating.

My other senses sharpened. I could hear the sound of my own blood rushing through my ears. I could feel the fabric of my shirt sliding against my skin as he began to undress me.

His fingers moved over my chest, my ribs, my hips. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, voice low and ragged. “You’re hot. And all mine.”

He stripped me slowly. My hands twitched at my sides. I hated how much I wanted this.

How long had he been thinking about this?

How long had I?

He lifted me without warning, strong arms under my back and legs, and carried me somewhere soft. His bed. I knew it. I could feel the plush mattress beneath me, the cool sheets.

He pushed my legs open, wider than I wanted them to go.

Shame prickled at my skin.

I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I could feel every move. The way he gripped my ankles. The way he repositioned me. Every adjustment made me feel smaller. More exposed.

I was hard. Pathetically, twitchingly hard.

He tied my wrists above my head with something soft but firm. His breath hitched slightly, and then I felt his hand on my chest. Then my hip. Then lower.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, voice a little reverent, a little cruel. “So fuckable.”

I flinched.

That word.

A memory I didn’t want rose, fast and sharp and painful. But the way Blake said it, like he meant it, like it was something holy, it twisted the feeling into something else. Something I couldn’t name.

I wanted to hate him.

Instead, I moaned softly as his fingers skimmed over my cock.

“Don’t close your legs, Asher,” he said, voice darker now. “Isn’t this what you wanted? What you kept teasing for in my office? What you wanted when you broke in here like a naughty little boy?”

His hand gripped my thigh again, and I whimpered.

“God, look at you,” he muttered. “Squirming and tied up. You’re so desperate for it. You want me to ruin you, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

His hand left for a moment, and I whimpered at the loss. Then I felt his lips on my chest. Light, grazing. A slow path to my neck. He bit down, and I gasped, arching toward the pressure.

Then, his mouth found mine.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

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