Page 18 of His Captive

“Yes, of cou—”

“With your tongue,” he interrupts, standing up from his chair. “On all fours, Lysetta,” he commands.

I scurry back into position, and he helps himself to a fistful of my hair, slowly pushing my head down until my nose almost touches the polished wood table.

“Tongue out,” he tells me, leaning into my ear.

I slip my tongue from my dry mouth.

“Now, lick your dirty mess clean.”

Looking up at him through my lashes, I stare at the beautifully wicked man in front of me, and I do exactly what he asks me to.

I taste myself on my tongue as I swipe it over the tangy wood. Keeping my eyes fixed with his as I cover the whole area I’d spoilt, because I want to see the satisfaction in them as he watches me do it.

When the table is clean he releases my hair and I stand up onto my knees, leveling myself with him. Wondering if he still tastes me on his lips.

“Good girl.” He taps my cheek gently with his fingers, then covers my face completely with his palm, using it to push me away. Motioning his head toward the trolley of food he snarls at me.

“Bon appetite.”

Four

ETHAN

The girl is already getting under my skin, making me weak. Just like Sorrento planned for her to.

I shouldn’t have wanted to taste her. I definitely shouldn’t have let her know that I did. And yet her sweet tasting satisfaction now lingers on my lips and tongue.

One taste isn’t enough, what I really want is to push her back and lick the ever living fuck out of her. To devour that innocent little cunt with my mouth, until I force another orgasm from it, and find out if it tastes as good as her first. I want the taste of her in my mouth for days.

She eats the food in front of her, hardly giving herself a chance to taste what she puts in her mouth. While I sit back and watch her, thinking about what I should do to her next. I can’t keep her in the basement forever. She will need clean clothes and toiletries. I may not know her intentions just yet, but that doesn’t mean I can treat her like an animal.

Firing off a text to Buddy, I tell him to have my instructions completed within the hour.

Lysetta looks up at me when she’s finished eating. Taking the napkin that’s set out for her and dabbing it at the corners of her mouth. Fuck. That mouth would look incredible wrapped around my shaft. Sucking at my tip, and drinking down every last trace of the bittersweet pleasure she’d bring me.

I want so much to hate her.

“Thank you, that was delicious,” she smiles, placing the red satin napkin neatly back on the table. The girl seems genuinely grateful. But, I still can’t gage if this is all an act. What I do know, and can’t ignore, is that she works for Sorrento. And that means I can’t trust her, no matter how much those pretty blue eyes of hers beg me to.

I tip my head in response to her gratitude, watch her fidget in her seat nervously. Her eyes look up and roam over the elaborately decorated ceilings of the grand room. She’s probably thinking the same as everyone else, most people are in awe of my home. The place and its surroundings are by all accounts beautiful. A beauty that I’d stopped appreciating a long time ago. I didn’t buy the place when it came on the market for its ten oversized bedrooms, the impressive dining hall, or the elaborate entertainment room. It hadn’t been the expansive grounds that enticed me to the property either.

All those things are irrelevant to me.

I’d bought the place to inflict myself with the pain that I deserve, a reminder that any emotion other than hatred is useless to a man like me.

I rarely venture out these days. I’ve already achieved my success, I have businesses in New York, London, and Paris. Yet, the only office I ever bother to visit is the one here in Cannonville, and that’s only on rare occasions. All of my businesses tick themselves over, enabling me to run my empire from the office in my home. I like it better that way. Staying up here, shut away inside my prison of the past, while mastering my puppets from the shadows. It’s the reason my annual party is always a success. I’m a phantom to most of the people in town. They use the over the top party I throw to feed their greed and curiosity. To get a glimpse into the life of the man who keeps most of them in business.

Eventually I stand up and start making my way toward her. My footsteps echoing loudly through the silence as they impact against the varnished wood floor.

“Stand up,” I tell her, having to keep myself from smirking when she obediently takes to her feet.

“My office,” I make for the door, not looking back to check if she’s following. I know she will be. She has that look in her eyes. The look that, despite the fucked up situation she’s found herself in, holds the detection of desire. I discreetly shift my rigid cock in to a more comfortable position and hold open my office door for her.

She steps inside, lingering in the middle of the room until I sit in the chair behind my desk then gesture for her to sit down opposite. I can hear the nervous, unsettled breathes she makes. Her eyelashes unintentionally fluttering. She’s convincing, I’ll give her that much, enough to make me want to believe that Sorrento hasn’t corrupted her. But I can’t put anything past a man like him.

“How did Sorrento know about the butterfly,” I ask, leaning back, and crossing my hands.

---