Captive-Sated (Dark Romance Series) (3 page)

I leaned back against the headboard and smoked as I listened to her breathing become steady. I reached out gently taking a strand of her hair and running it through my fingers, it felt like corn silk and it was so long that it fell to the top of her heart shaped ass.

I could see why my men had been overtaken with her beauty but it didn’t change the fact that they had put me in a dangerous situation by bringing her here. I was going to have to figure out a way to return her without putting my operation in jeopardy.

I ran my finger over her porcelain white arm and watched as goose bumps rose. Her skin intrigued me with its blue hued undertones. I could feel my cock hardening. I wanted to fuck her senseless. I wanted to pin her arms down with my hands and plunge my cock into her until she felt like I was slamming into her cervix. I was going to have to get rid of her quickly before I became obsessed with her. She was everything that I had a weakness for and a man in my position can never afford to show weakness—nor be weak.

The strain of my hardened cock tempted me to leave but how could I? She was scared and for whatever
reason I was her knight in shining armor. That was a hilarious thought, when in reality I am a sadistic twisted killer. She had no idea whom she was entrusting her life to; no idea at all.

I awoke to a woman opening the heavy curtains in order to allow the bright Middle Eastern sun in. I could only guess that I was still in Afghanistan. Being in a war torn country with people that hated Americans was not making me feel safe. The thought caused me to eye the door and note that it was fixed.

I looked at the side of the bed that Akmal had slept on and purposed in my mind that I needed to drop the though
t of him being my savior. For all that I knew these people were a band of homicidal terrorists. The thought sickened me and I had every intention of asking Akmal when the timing was right. Maybe I could escape before the opportunity presented itself.

The woman’s voice cut through my thoughts as she spoke to me as if I understood her foreign dialect. She pointed at a table and I understood that she was telling me breakfast was ready. I was glad when she turned and left so I could eat in private. I hummed as I ate and made my way to the shower. I had every intention of exploring this palace that was now my prison.

The warm water felt good as it trickled down my still worn out body. I reached for the shampoo and noted that the hygiene items were American brands. Only one person could have been responsible for that—Akmal.

I exited the shower wrapping my hair in a towel and covering my body with another. I was shocked to view Akmal as I entered the be
droom. I tugged at the towel that covered my body out of nervous energy.

Akmal as usual looked as if he had stepped off of the cover of a high dollar men’s magazine. He wore a deep navy blue suit with a pinstripe blue shirt complete with cufflinks, a tie that matched and high dollar men’s shoes.

“Thank you for staying with me Akmal.”

“S
taying with you and not fucking you raw wasn’t an easy thing to do.”

I could feel my face redden at his words.

“Ah, the American blush shows so well on that beautiful face of yours. I’m still debating killing the guard who tried to attack you last night. You are my guest and if there will be any man taking you—it will be me.”

I couldn’t understand why his blunt demeanor was causing a heat in my body that was slowly making its way down to the v in my thighs.

“Sit,” he calmly commanded waving an arm towards the chair at my makeup table.

I sat, watching him
in the mirror as he removed the towel from my hair and picked up a brush. I could feel my nipples harden under the soft thick terry cloth towel that I had wrapped around my body. As if reading my mind he spoke.

“Your body responds well to me.” He bent down whispering in my ear. “You only
need to ask me and I will show you my world. Be very careful though because if you dare to enter, there will be no returning; you will never be the same. I will call you Leila while you are my guest here. Lady is so impersonal and Deborah is boring. Leila is much better and being that you born at 11:15pm it suites you—it means born at night in Arabic.

“I’m not your guest and how do you know all of these things about me?”

“You are my guest and my job is Intel; I’m damn good at what I do, so don’t ever underestimate me.”

I shivered as he pulled the brush through my hair. It felt as if every nerve in my body was on high alert; starting from the top of my head and working its way down to my toes that felt like they could curl
.

His blunt way of
talking about sex was making me terribly horny. It had been five long years since I had been fucked and I wondered if Akmal was intentionally trying to excite me so that I would give in and ask him to bed me. He wasn’t done yet though. He bent down whispering in my ear, “Everything in me wants to rip that towel from your body. Are your nipples pink? Is that sweet little pussy of yours pink? I’m going to have you—and you are going to beg. Perhaps when we have dinner together later I can have the table cleared and eat you for desert.”

I looked into t
he mirror and caught his coal black eyes boring into mine. He was eyeing me so intensely that I found it hard to look at him and averted my eyes. He rose making his way out of the room.

What the fuck just happened?

I was tired—I would be glad to be healthy again. It’s amazing how much we take for granite until we don’t have it
. I just wanted to feel normal, but as I thought back I couldn’t remember a time that my life was ever normal.

        I guess that I didn’t realize just how exh
austed that I was because I drifted off and awoke to a yellow rose and a handwritten calligraphy note.

I’m certain that you are well
aware of the reason that I chose a yellow rose to gift you with.

You will find your evening attire in your dressing room. I will be there to retrieve you promptly at 6:00. I would advise you to not be late my Lady, or you will be punished. I am not a man to be tested; I trust that is understood.

Yours, Akmal…

I couldn’t help but wonder two things: What was Akmal’s idea of punishment? And not only did Akmal refer to me as his property, but he also referred to
himself as belonging to me. The enigma of this man was raising my curiosity. Who was he? What line of work was he in? I know myself well enough to know that I will be doing some exploration of the mansion. I could only hope that my sky rocketing libido was not putting me in more danger. I hadn’t had sex in five years—my fame and the paparazzi had seen to that. I would rather not be involved in relationships because I never knew who was using me as their ticket to money and fame.

I had enough people riding on my coattails. I had gotten over the pain of people using me for gain a long time ago. It still cut when it was my own Mother
—it had started with her and trickled down to everyone in my life. There was not one single person that cared about
me
. It always boiled down to money and fame. People covet those things in today’s society and I learned long ago just how far people will go to obtain that which they covet.

I made my way into the dressing room adjoining the walk-in closet and once again on the antique fainting couch was a yellow rose on top of a large box. I picked up the handwritten calligraphy note which read:

My dearest lady,

Though I have stocked your closet with all that you need, this is the dress that I wish to view you in this evening, it is NOT a suggestion.

Yours, Akmal…

There was something very sinister about this man. There was a fear that I felt concerning him, what I didn’t understand was why it worked as an aphrodisiac in my case. It was as if I wanted to experience the sinister side of Akmal; it exited me. Was I playing with fire? Just how dangerous was this man? I had every intention of finding out. It just wasn’t in my nature to not explore once
my curiosity had been peaked—yes Akmal had definitely peaked my interest.

Part of me wanted to wear something different just to see what he would do, but I thought better of it.

                                      Akmal and Lady

     I eyed myself in the mirror and even I was astonished at the reflection looking back at me. The black dress scooped so far down my back that it hit right at the top of my ass. My hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and long earrings cascaded down; ending at my shoulders. My makeup wasn’t heavy except for the bright red lipstick that I wore. The dress fit as if it had been tailored for me and for all that I knew—it had been.

I looked up to view Akmal and he looked as if
he was dressed for a black tie event, the man was gorgeous. He took tall, dark, and handsome, to a whole new level. It was evident that dinners around here were taken seriously. We were both dressed formally and I found myself feeling ‘special’ by the way that he was treating me. He spoke as if reading my mind, “You’re a stunning beautiful lady and you are mine.”

His lips brushed my cheek sending a shiver through me.

The mystique of this man drew me in as if I had no choice but to surrender. I could only hope that I would not regret my blind leap into the un-known.

I had every intention of finding out who this man was and what he did for a living.

He whisked me away into the formal dining room. A long dining table was the first thing that I noticed. I couldn’t help but think about the movies that I had viewed where couples would sit at opposite ends, as if the distance in the physicality was synonymous with the distance that they shared emotionally.

I never wanted a marriage or even a relationship like that. No amount of money was worth it. Hell,
I have money and I’m miserable—connection was what was important to me. And not just some ooey gooey emotional connection, but a deep heart wrenching soul connection; perhaps this man of mystery was the ‘one.’

I guess that I am a romantic at heart. I have seen what the real world has to offer and though I have done quite well financially I am not impres
sed with the trappings of it—nor am I impressed with the lengths that people will go to for fame and fortune.

My Mother pimped me out from childhood; up until the day that I was emancipated. And my manager had only gone along with the idea because it would mean more money for him. Would there ever come a day that someone would just love me for me, and not just for what they could get?

Akmal’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You will sit beside me—distance isn’t an option, Leila.”

I eyed him
as if he had just read my mind and in a sense hadn’t he?

I sat as he pulled my chair out. He leaned down and hoarsely whispered in my ear, “Don’t turn around, that’s it,” I felt the tip of one of his fingers lightly run from the bottom of my low dipped dress, up the spine of my back and a shudder coursed through me.

He chuckled when he saw the effect of his actions and when I turned to look at him he spoke, “No, no, no, that’s it. You will find that listening and obeying my instructions is imperative to your well being, Leila.”

Imperative, well-being, was that a threat?

Then why the hell did it excite me?!?

Akmal

    She is stunning.
I already know that I will not release her….Ever…..

“Time to eat my lady,” I softly spoke in her ear.

She watched as I sat unbuttoning my dinner jacket. She was so inquisitive. Her curiosity could be a problem, but with the surveillance available in my home I would be able to keep a cap on her inquisitive nature. I didn’t want to put her in danger. She would be watched over and she would never be permitted to leave the grounds. I just couldn’t take a chance on one of my enemies finding out that she was residing here.

Lady

      Dinner was an event. I felt as if I had dined at a fine dining club. It was literally no different—starting with the soup, appetizer, salad, and on and on. The dishes had been cleared and conversation had been pleasant. Not formal or forced, but natural and flowing.

Suddenly he rose and removed his dinner jacket. I could feel my heart quicken as he made his way to my chair and took my hand. He took me and sat me down where he had just dined and the area had been cleared
by his servants.

He stood in front of me eyeing me as if he were mesmerized by me. He reached in popping one tit and then the other out of my dress.

“What if……”

“Shh
, no speaking unless you’re cumming, Lady.”

I was shocked a
t his blunt demeanor and speech, why did I find myself excited by it?

He spoke as he ran the pad of his thumb around my nipple. “My staff knows to obey me and they have been instructed not to interrupt me.”

“Do people always obey you?” I asked sincerely.

His cold black eyes rose to meet mine; they held onto my visage until he finally spoke. “I can assure you that they always obey. You look as if you are shocked my Lady. Things are very different in my world. I am Middle Eastern and we have very effective ways of keeping our servants in compliance with our wishes. Be quiet
lady, I want to taste your pussy.”

He chuckled when he saw my mouth fall open. The humor would not last, he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me towards his lips, if you speak again and you are not cumming and screaming out to me, I’m going to give you an aphrodisiac and then put a mentholated salve on the lips of that sweet little pussy of yours. The concoction will cause to be hornier than you have ever been. I am then going to lock you in a cage with your hands bound, in order to assure that you are incapable of pleasuring yourself. You will literally seethe in your own juices.

He waited—staring at me—as if waiting for an answer. I only shook my head yes. It was evident that my captor meant every word that he spoke.

He pushed me down on the table and moved his chair, dropping to his knees. “What do you taste like Lady, that is a rhetorical question; one not in need of an answer.”

I could feel his fingers opening me as is his tongue ran its away around my folds—taunting and teasing until my hips began to move in unison with it. His full lips pulled at my clit sucking it; pulsing as if he were milking it, until he sent me into a frenzy of nerves that cascaded into an explosion of pleasure.

He stood, leaning over me and kissing me full force with no embarrassment or shame.

“That’s what you taste like Lady.” I sucked at his tongue feeling completely uninhibited with this man that I hardly knew; yet he knew even the smallest details about me.

He roughly pulled at my lip with the pad of his thumb purposely smearing my lipstick. He smudged it across my cheek purposely causing me to look disheveled. When I reached my hand up to try and wipe it off, he forcefully grabbed my wrist and locked eyes with me. He twisted as he spoke, “Did I ask you to do that?” His face looked cold, stern, as if he was daring me to oppose him.

His eyes cut into me causing me to look away and once again he twisted, causing me to wince out in pain. “I asked you a question, answer me!”

“No!” I scowled.

“Watch your attitude Leila. I’m not one of your employees and I’m sure not going to kiss your spoiled rotten little ass. Leave……The……..Lipstick……On…….Your……Face…..”

I only shook my
head yes, he was scaring me—and I liked it. How fucked up is that?

His fingers dug into my thighs as he pushed into me, thrusting in order to gain full access into my more than willing opening.

He began to taunt me with short thrusts, teasing me and telling me to beg him for all nine inches of his more than capable manhood.