Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (e book reader pc TXT) 📕

“Y' want to get her shoes?” Peter questioned with no urgency whatsoever, as if he were asking if Robin liked cream in his goddamn coffee.

Robin sat at the edge of the mattress, and grabbed my ankle. I kicked with the other leg, sending my foot into the side of his face. This only served to pissed him off.

Robin was a huge man, fifty pounds to the wrong side of healthy, and he glared at me with beady little eyes that left no doubt that the fun and games were over. He snatched the leg that had hit him, yanked off the sensible rubber soled shoe, then did the same with the other. My pants were next.

Still, I fought. Arching my back and whipping my head around, looking for something to bite. The human bite has about two hundred and seventy five pounds of force, on average. It needs to actually bite something, however, to be effective.

My pants were pulled away from me as Peter removed my shirt, keeping his fingers a cautious distance from my mouth. He took my bra away, next. Unhooking it and tossing it aside, he suddenly cupped my breasts from behind and squeezed. Twice.

“Honk, honk,” he said.

I went to strike him, to maybe gouge out his eyes like you're supposed to do when a shark attacks, but I no longer had control of my arm. Robin had locked the cuff into the awaiting manacle, and was getting to work with the other.

This was a very, very large bed, though, and I was a small woman. The tendons in my arms stretched taught as they locked me into the restraints. A crucifixion pose.

“Don't think he's had one this short,” Peter observed, chewing the bottom of his lip.

His words penetrated every part of me. How many women has Maddox taken against their will? How many has he tied to this very damn bed? I wasn’t foolish enough think they’d all come here with the same nose for revenge I had.

“See? That's why he won't be mad. Had to make sure she fits, y'know?” Robin remarked, rubbing his cheek, then added, “I don't think her feet'll reach, Pete,” he pointed to the gaping manacles at the end of the bed.

Peter nodded, still chewing his lip, deep in thought.

Deep in fucking thought, I realized. He's deep in fucking thought. No wonder he looks so dazed. Probably his first time.

“Got an idea,” he said at last. Then smiled at me. “Don't go anywhere, buttercup.”

He patted my leg, then got up and went to a chest of drawers, opened one, and started rummaging around.

Robin put his hand against my cheek, and squished my lips together. “I think maybe you should apologize, Maria. For hitting me.”

“I think you should go fuck yourself,” I hissed.

He grinned, then began to lower his head toward mine. His lips parted. Big, sweaty, bulbous lips. Behind which was a foul stench of grease. Stale cigarettes.

Knowing it was futile to begin with, I flung my legs toward the ceiling, thinking that perhaps years of gymnastics would still enable me to do some sort of superhuman curl, and I could clonk the bastard with a kneecap.

“Oop. Not so fast, you two,” Peter said, having returned with two long, silken scarves. He threw one to Robin. “He usually saves these for special company, buttercup. But, I think you qualify.”

And there they had me. As quick as a sneeze, they had me bound by my ankles in the silk, which they then looped through the iron rings.

My legs parted as they pulled the scarves like sailors with a main sail. Spreading me open. Farther and farther. And farther.

Peter tied off his silk, and stroked my leg. He tip-toed his fingertips across my inner thigh, then drummed them lightly in the divot of my muscle just below my underpants.

“We should turn it back on, Pete,” Robin suggested, pointing to the camera. “He'll think we're up to something.”

“Aren't we?” Peter replied, then chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. You're right. Be good, buttercup,” he said, getting off the bed. “You have lots of time to think about what you've done, young lady. So, enjoy.”

Robin pushed his bulk off the mattress, but not before giving my nipple a quick and very painful pinch. The bastard thought he was winning. And maybe against me, he was. But life had already taken so many shits on his sorry ass that he would never win at it.

“Payback,” he winked. “It's a hell of a… bitch.” He chuckled like he’d made the joke of the century. As much as that grated on my nerves, I didn’t spare him so much as a roll of my eyes.

Peter pushed the button on his mysterious little device, and I heard the same electronic click as before. The lens on the camera opened in what seemed like slow motion. It was watching me again, focused on how prone and spread eagled I was, settled atop a billionaire's mattress, in his beautiful office bedroom suite.

The door closed, and a small nightlight came on beside the table with the silk roses. Their fake, white petals cast in a gentle, amber light was something out of a fairytale. Pretty in all the right ways while meaning all the wrong things.

I pulled against my bonds, but that did nothing more than tighten the restraints and further exhaust my already spent muscles. Realization dawned on me that I wasn't getting out of here anytime soon. If at all.

I stared up at the camera. “You suck, Petersen. Seriously. Fuck you,” I told it.

The camera moved up and down. Up and down, as if it were nodding in agreement.

Chapter Two

MADDOX

I had a lot of enemies. A lot of them. You don't get to be a man of my status by playing nicey-nice with corporate dung