Chapter 11

She wasn’t jealous, then. She wanted to switch the situation, to give herself a better advantage. Surprising. Courageous. And stupid. She had no idea what my family was capable of.

She sauntered closer still, her funky body heat coming toward me, making my dick twitch, her scent filling me. Making her so damn hard to ignore. The scent of overconfident prey. Someone ready to be cut down to size.

“I told you to wear perfume,” I said, my voice low. Anything to drown out that intoxicating scent.

“Be honest for once,” she said. “Answer the fucking question.”

Every time she spoke, she drained me. Always asking questions. Always demanding answers. Never backing down. I admired that. But I wanted a moment of peace. She was getting paid for our marriage; wasn’t that enough to leave me alone?

I grabbed her arms, her muscles straining against me. I carried her through the door frame, back to her bedroom.

“Be careful of what you ask for,” I said.

“Answer. The. Question,” she repeated. “Where were you?”

I squeezed my grip around her arms. “Working.”

I threw her down on her king-sized bed. Ripped off her loose pajamas until she was bare before me, lying on top of the fur blanket. She grinned up at me, pleased with herself. She must have thought she had finally gotten a rise out of me. And perhaps she had. My cock swelled in my pants, proof of arousal, but anyone who had half a brain would be attracted to Maisie. The physical attraction didn’t have any value to me.

She pushed herself up, linking her arms and legs around me, but I pinned her down with my weight. I leaned over the bed, removing the cuffs from under each bedpost, and binding her wrists and ankles. She writhed, moving her hips, thinking this was a sexual play. It reminded me of the first time I had seen her: so at ease with her sexuality, knowing the power she had. Over men. Over me. Even tied to a bed, she was oversexed. A filthy deviant.

I unlocked the drawer in the side table and removed a vibrator wand. As soon as I had known I was getting married, I had stocked the house with everything she would need, to keep her occupied, away from me. I removed my belt, the leather sliding out of the loops in a hum. She raised her hips, knowing exactly what I was doing, using the belt to keep the vibrator in place. She wiggled as it touched her, putting on a show, and demonstrating how possessed she was.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Touch me, Wilder. Please.”

Her smooth skin. The dark freckles splattered across her flush-tinted skin. The scent came from between her legs. An urge swelled inside of me, wanting to touch her. To stroke her. To learn exactly how soft she was.

I stepped back, standing in the doorway. Her breasts flattened as she laid on her back, her nipples round and taut, stretching up, begging for attention. I licked my lips. Stubble ran over her mound. I resisted the urge to run my hand over it.

“Stop shaving,” I ordered.

Her eyes widened as if her beauty choice was the sole reason I wouldn’t touch her. It had nothing to do with it. But I liked knowing that she may have shaved for her job, to please her clients—but for me? I wanted her to be natural.

And hell, it would strengthen her scent, and that would slowly sabotage my control.

Perhaps I wanted to be driven to madness.

But I hadn’t touched her yet. I couldn't resist. If I wanted to.

“Is this a game to you?” she whispered, her eyes full of lust.

Her moans built, and I moved so that all I could see were her hips and legs. I needed to go back to work—get my mind off of Maisie. Focus on what made sense. The Dairy Barn had a system. A way of life. But Maisie aroused me. Full of false sweetness. Broken under depravity. A drop of arousal traced her pussy lips. Did she taste as sweet as she smelled?

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Desire made me lose control. And the only thing I would let myself desire was my work. It was the only way our family existed, the way our power thrived. I bowed my head, going to my bedroom. But Maisie’s moans transformed into pleasure-soaked cries; she was close. I needed to get out. Maisie would be fine, and in a few hours, when she was worn out and satiated and I had cured myself of these urges, I could go back to her.

Remove the restraints. Power off the vibrator.

Or I could kill her.

But that would mean I cared. And I didn’t.

Which meant that whatever I did, she meant nothing to me.

I clenched my fists. This was ridiculous. I forced myself to do what I wanted.

I went to the bathroom, soaking a large, thick hand towel with water, then stormed into her room. I climbed onto the bed, kneeling on her shoulders, pinning her down, the water dripping from the towel, sprinkling both of us. Her eyes glazed over. Like I was going to fuck her now. Not quite.

The wet towel slapped down over her face and she gasped, the towel sucking into her mouth. I rubbed my cock through my pants. Each time she struggled, my cock grew. She wiggled her hips, my weight crushing her. Her body thrashed in each direction, trying to throw the towel off. I moved to the floor and slipped out of my jeans. I straddled her again, the fur digging into my knees, and pulled out my cock. With one hand, I fucked myself, then held the cloth over her nose and mouth. She panted and swallowed, but she never told me to stop. Never complained. Had she done anything like this before, during her other job? Did she like being forced? How had she ended up doing that job in the first place? She seemed like the kind of person who could do anything she wanted. She was annoyingly persistent.

Did she want to do that work, then?

I let go of my grip on her mouth, then adjusted the vibrator so it was back on her clit. She cried out, her whole body convulsing, and I realized she had made this happen. I could have left, could have gone back to work, but instead, I was jerking off to her squirming on the bed, watching her fight for life. I bent forward, resting both hands on her mouth and nose, pressing the cloth down, making sure she couldn’t breathe. My cock pressed against her bare chest, and I thrust my cock forward, jabbing her chin. A slick stream of water trickled down her breasts.

“If you want to breathe, you’ll come,” I said. Little shots of red blood vessels coursed through her eyes. I let go, giving her one last breath, and then I held her down again. Pressing harder the more she struggled, her face puffing into a purplish-red, sweat beading all over her. “Fight for it,” I whispered. “Come for me.”

Her hips twitched, and I let go, her face contorting in a gasp as her pussy clenched. I fucked myself, gripping my cock so hard I grunted. Once her last twitch subsided, I smacked a hand down on the towel again, fucking myself, watching her fight and thrash. I pumped myself harder. With only one hand and a renewed will to fight, she yanked at the chains, but I bared my teeth until my cock twitched and come dashed across her face.

I pulled up my boxers, then slipped into my jeans. She exhaled, her breathing labored. Red dashes scoured the whites of her eyes. Her skin fades back to its normal color. The vibrator humming on her hip dislodged from the belt.

I needed to get out of here.

“If you obey anything I say,” I said, waiting for her eyes to meet mine, “Don’t follow me.”