Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart (91 page)

After another two licks, I hoped I
deserved the next scrap of parchment, but no one gave it to me. My heart sank
as I completed a full rotation, squeezing my eyes as each tongue inched closer
to the places I wished were covered.

I couldn’t stop shivering when I
placed the empty platter on the sideboard. Resting my palms on the hard
surface, I breathed deep. Tears pressed on the back of my eyes, disgust rolled
in my stomach growling with desperate hunger. This was torture on so many
levels. Delivering food to well-fed men all the while they feasted on me, too.

"The main course, if you will,
Nila," Mr. Hawk muttered.

I looked over my shoulder. He sat
there, running his fingers through his goatee. His golden eyes, so like
Jethro’s, held no patience or tolerance but his lips tilted in mirth. He was
enjoying this.

Of course he was. They
all
were.

Including my main tormentor.

Pushing off from the sideboard, I
collected a large silver tray of chicken and asparagus. Keeping my eyes down, I
deliberately kept the tray high and outstretched, giving me a shield in which
to pass Jethro.

Not that it helped.

His arm shot out, stopping me. I
cursed the familiarity of his touch. Screamed at the horrible way my body
remembered the pleasure he’d granted by the stables. I wanted nothing from him.
Especially the memory of his fingers.

I glared into his eyes.
Stay
silent.

It was hard.

I had so much I wanted to say. So
much to yell. The side of my head still throbbed from his strike; my ego still
hurt from not knowing how to jerk him off the way he desired. He made me feel
like a rejected little girl.

Bowing close, he whispered in my
ear, "I’m enjoying watching you be so obedient, Ms. Weaver. And your silence…"
He brushed my hair away from my cheek, fingertips lingering on my neck. "…is
making me hard."

I sucked in a gasp, looking to the
front of his trousers despite myself. The outline of his massive cock that
terrified me—more than his hands, temper, or god-awful silence—stood firm and
bulging against his jeans.

He smiled. "Keep up the good
work and you might get two rewards this evening." His eyes darkened. "Because
we both know you want me to finish what I started."

My gasp turned to a growl. I
couldn’t fathom how my stomach swooped even while sickness swirled. Damn my
traitorous body for finding his evil beauty attractive.

Are you sure you want to seduce
him just for protection?
I hated the question. I
hated that I didn’t have an answer.

Jerking away from his arm, I
stalked toward my starting position. Standing beside Mr. Hawk, I served him
first. The moment he’d taken a few morsels, I moved to leave, but he pinched my
pinafore, keeping me still.

His eyes met mine and I knew, just
knew
,
this serving round wouldn’t be my arms, neck, or hips up for a taste. This
would be worse.
Much
worse.

"Face me, girl," he
ordered.

My teeth chattered, but I slowly
did as he requested.

"Lean down."

Closing my eyes, I obeyed.

His hot breath clouded over my
chest before a wet, warm mouth latched onto my nipple. A graze of teeth, a
swipe of a tongue—it all drove me to the pinnacle. The pinnacle where I knew I
would burn in hell for not only permitting it, but for the tiny flutter of need
that had burst into life while his son drove his finger inside me.

My head pounded as I shoved the
betrayal away. I was the one who betrayed myself. I was the one not strong
enough to fight Jethro. He’d won the moment I saw him and let my need for touch
consume me.

Tears tickled my spine and the
moment Mr. Hawk pulled way, I ran.

I didn’t get far.

Orange Tattoo, who sat next to Mr.
Hawk caught me, holding me tight. "Now, now. You’re doing so well. Don’t
ruin it." His large hand splayed on my shoulder blades, jerking me to his
sitting level. With a tight smile, his mouth latched onto my dry nipple.

I whimpered as his large soppy lips
sucked. He took his time, swirling his tongue around the hard bud, before
letting go in a loud slurp.

I stood shaking as he selected some
chicken and sent me on my way.

I can’t do this
.

Self-pity filled my empty stomach,
and I stood frozen to the thick burgundy carpet.

"Move, Ms. Weaver,"
Jethro ordered.

My body swayed to obey but
everything inside rebelled. I didn’t care Mr. Hawk had eloquently described my
cage with the use of diamonds and debts. I didn’t care that I had no choice but
to do as I was told.

I just couldn’t do it.

My eyes flew wide as Jethro’s hands
landed on my shoulders. He spun me to face him, breathing hard. "Do. It.
Now." The force of his command buckled my knees. I dropped my head.

Silently, Jethro stormed me
forward, presenting me to the next man. The platter wobbled in my hands but I
stood upright while a vile mouth suckled on my breast.

Once it was over, Jethro manhandled
me to the next, whispering in my ear, "Make me come back and show you how
to behave, and I won’t be nice. You still cling to the ideology that you’re
better than us. That any moment this will be over." His teeth nipped at my
ear. "That’s torture because it’s false. It won’t happen. Accept it and be
done with the past. Accept it and embrace everything we’re giving you."

Shoving me forward, he patted my
backside. "I can be nice if you give me reason to be, Ms. Weaver. Try me
by behaving for the rest of the luncheon."

I didn’t watch as he left, resuming
his standing position behind his father’s chair.

I can be nice.

Bullshit he could be nice. But the
sooner I obeyed, the sooner it was over.

So…I obeyed.

Mouths.

Fingers.

Tongues and teeth.

They all tasted. They all groped.

I thought the first course was
hard. I’d clung to the morals of how wrong it was for so many men to treat one
woman so unfairly.

This course did things to me I
wished I could deny. Fat lips, thin lips, hot mouths, cool mouths. They all not
only
took
from me but
gave
something in return.

A horrible realisation that my body
was taking over.

My horror sank like a rock every
time a man had a new taste. Slowly my stomach fluttered; my insides rebelling
against the melting that occurred.

The men didn’t care countless
mouths had been on my skin. They took turns between my left and right nipples,
nibbling, sucking. I wished they’d bite. I willed them to hurt me—
something
to
prove how vile they were.

But each one—old, young, trim,
overweight—they all loved me. They adoringly suckled. They moaned with such
deep appreciation, I struggled to remember this was by force not by choice. I
felt as if I granted them a gift.

A gift they truly appreciated.

Don’t. Don’t buy into the
mindfuckery.

Even my inner voice turned slightly
breathless, a lot confused, and edging toward acceptance.

I grew lightheaded as I trudged
from man to man. I didn’t make eye contact with any of them. I became listless.
Numb. Apart from a tiny spark tugging on the invisible cord from my nipple to
my core. I wished it wasn’t so. I craved to remain unaffected.

But slowly they turned me from
intellectual businesswoman to trembling plaything.

Slowly, I grew wet.

Sharp teeth dragged my attention
through the blackness that’d become my soul, back to reality.

I looked into the eyes of Daniel.

The mellow trance I’d been lulled
into snapped like a rubber band. I no longer found any acceptance or lusty
appeal, only hollow rage.

"It’s not much fun licking a
woman when she isn’t paying attention," he sneered.

My heartbeat flew terrorised around
my chest. My nipple throbbed from where he’d bitten me.

Licking his lips, he added, "You
taste good, Weaver, but I’m looking forward to the next course."

My heart promptly shot itself and
splattered against the floor.

The next course.

No. No. No. No.

"Here. You earned this."
Shoving another piece of parchment my way, I forced back my tears.

Moving awkwardly, I placed the
empty tray on the sideboard, then returned to Daniel’s side. My skin broke out
in goosebumps being so close, but he dangled the parchment like a present I
desperately wanted.

Taking it, I couldn’t hide my
shakes this time. My aloofness and spirit were gone, replaced by a brittle
shaking leaf.

A leaf
that was turned on and damp.

Upon reflection of his
crimes, Percy Weaver hereby submits to this esquire’s ruling and moves to
action the latest degree formulated in this very chamber by Bennett Hawk. The
death warrant upon the heads of the Weaver House will be eradicated and burned
upon signature of this newly drafted document. Terms forthcoming…

That was it?

Tears spurted from my eyes. I’d let
countless men suck on my breasts for no more than a tease?

How could they?

How could
I
?

How could I allow my body to react
to their foul ministrations? I hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t hide my
weakness or the stupid hormones I’d spent my whole life ignoring.

My knees wobbled and I almost
folded like an accordion to the floor.

"You pass out and you won’t
like what you find when you awake," Jethro said. His voice cut through my
grief.

Anger battled away my tears,
nursing a new warmth inside. A warmth born of rage rather than flimsy passion.
This burned hotter; it licked with orange flames, abolishing my hunger and
weakness.

I was fed by anger. I smouldered
with hate. I became stronger because of it. It gave me power to continue, but
also stole my safety of acceptance. I hissed and scalded with liveliness. I
couldn’t switch off.

"The next course, Ms. Weaver,"
Jethro commanded from his position at the head of the table. Balling my hands,
I threw away the parchment and stalked to the sideboard.

Dessert.

I knew what would happen.

I can’t do this.

You
will
do this.

In my rage, I made a reckless
decision. I was at war with my body—why not step over the battle line and join
them? Why not embrace it? It was yet another tool—another lesson. If I embraced
the new feelings inside, I would be better equipped at chipping away at
Jethro’s cold exoskeleton of ice and burrowing my way into his warmth.

I would make him care.

I would pleasure him.

Then I would kill him.

My legs scissored together.
Everything inside curled deeper into hiding. The moment I went near the table,
I would lose all control. I didn’t trust my body. It overpowered me every time.
And it sucked to be in this mess with a traitor.

Get it over and done with.

Taking a deep breath, I collected
my last course.

Passing Jethro with a gilded tray
of mini éclairs, bon bons, and trifles, I kept my eyes down. He’d torment me,
no doubt.

Sure enough, his arm wrapped around
my shoulders, forcing me to face him. His breathing was slightly uneven; his
voice lost a tiny shred of chilliness. "Get through this, and I’ll reward
you. I’ll be kind, because you deserve it." Pressing a possessive kiss on
my cheek, he whispered, "I’ll wipe it all away."

I was struck dumb by the rare and
scarily beautiful glimpse at a man I didn’t know existed. But then I blinked as
Jethro's ice slid back into place, a grim smirk on his lips. "My offer
only stands as long as you don’t speak, act out, or disappoint me."

Unwinding his arm, he shoved me
toward his father.

Almost drunkenly, I moved toward
Mr. Hawk. My stomach quivered with trepidation; my heart was prey running
frantically for its life.

Mr. Hawk smiled, holding up another
piece of paper. "Here. Your last one until you’ve completed this final
service. I think you deserve it, don’t you?" His eyes raked down the front
of my ridiculous maid’s uniform. The cap had stayed in place—how, I didn’t
know.

Patting my arse, he added, "I
must admit you refrained beautifully, even your mother who was my favourite,
didn’t do so elegantly at her first dinner party."

I ignored that, latching onto the
parchment.

Mr.
Hawk motioned me to put the tray on the table, before handing over the small
piece.

Percy Weaver and family
hereby acknowledge his agreeance to the one and only term set forth by Bennett
Hawk. In accordance with the law, both parties have agreed that the paperwork
is binding, unbreakable, and incontestable from now and forever. Details and
parties of both signatures are displayed on the enclosed verified document,
henceforth known as the Debt Inheritance.