Page 23 of Enslaved

His nostrils flared. He carefully extinguished the cigar only lit for a minute. The pulse beats in my throat, my stomach flipped. But I didn’t move. The need to find out what he was going to do was stronger than my urge to get away.

“Ah, my little dove, your eyes are so expressive.” My eyes shut involuntarily as his warm finger trailed down my cheek. His touch was light, sweet even, with an undercurrent of possession. Expecting him to kiss me, my lips parted. But his lips never landed on mine. Instead, I was yanked up by one arm. “Don’t ever run from me again,” he bit out through clenched teeth while his hand gripping me so tightly—I had no doubt tomorrow my skin would be marked.

“You don’t own me.” I attempted to jerk my arm free, but his grip only tightened.

“I do. And you already know it.”

“Never. We’ve already had this conversation and you might be heartless but hardly seem like a dense man. Let it go. Let me go. RIGHT NOW.”

He jerked me forward, bruising lips crashed on mine. My head jerked back just as his tongue briefly tasted mine. Using my free hand, I smacked him right across his smug face.

Expecting anger, I was stunned when his eyes widened, and he smiled so bright. It was as if I was looking at a man who was blind but could suddenly see.

“Thank you, Jessie,” he breathed, dark eyes full of passion and…obsession? I gulped, turning away wondering why this strange man was becoming a puzzle I needed to solve. The pieces that make him don’t match up. It’s intriguing…dangerous. He didn’t follow me as I fled his presence for the second night in a row. I was too wound up to sleep, so I headed to the crew mess. Bree was finally up. Her cheeks were flushed, and tiny bruises covered her neck.

“What? Don’t judge me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Not at all.”

“Jealous, then?”

“Absolutely, not.”

“Liar,” she grinned, sipping her drink.

My face heated but I wasn’t jealous, not if he didn’t touch her. “Did...did you…?”

“I did.”

“With all of them?”

“All except Christos. He watched. I imagined it was him, plowing me, hitting my G-Spot.” I swallowed hard, looking down at my broken fingernails.

“Why? Why would you want that? Didn’t you feel…used…dirty?”

“Yes, and it was glorious. You’re young; naïve. When men know how to fuck and just want to make you come—there’s nothing else like it. It’s just intense pleasure with no baggage. The first rule is never to fall for them. That’s why you never kiss during a scene.”

“A scene?”

“I’m not just a stewardess. I used to be a sub. That’s why they asked me to join in after they finished with the hookers.”

I shook my head, stunned at how blasé she was being about this. As if being a sub to billionaires was an everyday thing.

“Were you Christos’ sub?”

“El Diablo?No, I wish,” she snorted. “I belonged to Dimitri Santos.”

“What happened?”

“I broke all the rules. We kissed…I fell in love. He didn’t,” she shrugged.

I stared at her bent head. She was older than me but still beautiful. The type to turn heads with long, glossy dark hair and a slim figure. “So, what was last night about?”

“Money and sex. I keep my heart out of it. I won’t be any man’s long-term sub anymore. But for the right price, I’ll be a one-night sub. Christos knows this. Sara practically begged to join in. But none of them want her.”

---