Page 24 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
“You like games, don’t you?” I toss and catch it.
Sitting up on the sofa, Payton regards me with a mixture of hope and despair. In that little bikini, sopping wet, she looks good enough to eat.
“I have to contact my sister,” she pleads.
I nearly give in. Grabbing my own phone, I click it open to my messages with my core team. There are a series of updates on their search for Ivan.
They still haven’t found him.
I look at Payton’s phone, and the girl herself, her eyes pleading. She can’t use her phone. Even opening it would trigger off any spyware Ivan has, and since he’s still at large, he could get here. And calling her sister from mine is asking for trouble. A second sister going missing? Hayley will be raising every alarm, and that means the meddling London “Maths” Club, who try to get involved with every cat stuck up a tree in London, and will make it their mission to “rescue” her. Tracing us to this island will be easy.
She’s everything to me.
I can’t risk it. Her.
“Here’s my deal. If you don’t beg, you can have the phone.” I place it on the top of a high shelf that her cute little self won’t be able to reach. “I enjoy a challenge.”
And Payton is a worthy opponent, for all her youth. She was a faster swimmer than I expected, and I’m excited to bend her to my will. To show her that letting me lead is better for her, and that I’ll take care of her better than she can.
“You’re going to torture me?” She swallows nervously.
I cross my arms, restrain my grin, and stare down at her.
“Your choice is that the phone goes in the sea, or you accept my deal, and try not to beg.” I take my tie from where I discarded it.
“Okay.” She tilts her chin up bravely, and that only makes her even more appealing to me. She’s sitting primly, with her knees together and her hands folded in her lap. It’s a transparent effort to cover her amazing tits, and seem small and unthreatening. I guess she really thinks I’m going to hurt her.
“Put your hands above your head,” I tell her.
She licks her lips, and for a second, I think she’ll protest. But she doesn’t, and the air goes thick and hot as I watch her raise her arms.
“Good girl.” Her eyelids flutter. She likes that, huh? My girl enjoys being appreciated, and I can deliver all of the praise she needs.
I approach, and it’s a thrill when her gaze drops from my face to the bulge in my shorts, and her cheeks pinken.
With deliberate, slow movements so I don’t scare her, but I do make it clear who’s in charge now, I drop one knee on either side of her thighs and lean over her. Wrapping my tie around her wrists, I bind them tightly enough she’ll feel it, and can’t escape, but it’s a long way from hurting.
I’d die before I’d harm her.
I nudge her hands down until they’re resting on the back of the sofa behind her head, then rise again to stand in front of her, looking down.
I’m tall and imposing. But I think she likes that, because her gaze bounces around my body, taking in my many tattoos.
“Spread your legs for me.”
“What?” she says, breathily.
“Open them wide, so I can see the edges of your pretty little cunt.”
She whimpers at the crudeness of my words, but obediently parts her thighs.
The bikini bottoms cover what I really want, and this angle isn’t right, but I’ll take it.
I nod with approval.
“Now what?” she asks with an edge of defiance and a quiver of fear.
“I’m going to make you beg and scream.”
