His Indecent Demands (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire) (5 page)

A figure pauses at the doorway. She whirls around, covering her exposed breasts with her hands. And almost stumbles backwards, stunned.

For the man who stands there – eyeing her speculatively – is Channing Crawford.

And
not
Channing Crawford.

7

She can’t take her eyes off him.

He’s every bit as handsome with those blazing blue eyes and chiseled features. The main difference is that he has longish hair that falls almost to his shoulders – unlike Channing, who sports short hair to the point of a buzz cut. He wears a five o’ clock shadow in his rugged jawline. He’s dressed in a dark shirt, over which he slings a black jacket. His jeans are also black. He resembles the night itself.

He smiles at her, and it’s dazzling.

“Interesting,” he says. He has the exact same voice as Channing.

She wonders if he is Channing himself in another guise, and he has just put on a wig in some bizarre role play which he expects her to participate in. Yes, that’s a very real possibility.

“Ch-channing?” she says.

“I can be him if you wish me to be.” He looks around the kitchen as if he’s never seen it before. “Nice place my brother has got here. He’s done very well for himself. And who are you? A lover? Certainly not a wife, I’ll bet. That was never in his spec sheet.”

A brother? An identical twin, more like. She can only stare at him as he steps out of the doorway. Her hands are still on her breasts.

He motions to her crotch.

“If you’re trying to hide yourself, you need to hide more than your upper half.”

Her distressed hands flutter to her crotch, revealing her breasts. She quickly covers her nipples again with one hand while the other stays at her pubis, which she now is certain is also exposed.

He moves closer, and she backs away. He is an unknown quantity, and everything about this situation screams wrong.

“You’re beautiful,” he remarks, his eyes admiring. “My brother always had good taste in women. Notwithstanding what he did to
her
.”

There’s an undercurrent here. Something is certainly not right. She retreats as he keeps on coming closer, until she bumps into the kitchen counter. She has nowhere to go.

“Please,” she says.

“Please what?”

“Please don’t . . . ”

He is two feet away from her now. She wonders if she is in any danger. The way he appraises her – like she is something to eat – is deeply unsettling. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spies the knife rack. She wonders if she should reach for it.

His nostrils flare as his pupils dilate. “I should take you right here on the table. Take you as he has taken
her
.”

Her heart skips several beats.

Her instincts are right. She is in danger.

Just then, the robot takes it in mind to nudge his ankle.

“What the – ?”

He looks down, startled. She takes the opportunity to fling herself across the counter to grab a kitchen knife.

Rough hands seize her waist. The rack tips over, scattering the knives out of her reach.

“No!” she screams, and tries to twist her body away.

But he is very strong. His arms hold her in a vise grip. One hand reaches for her struggling head and grasps her hair.

Oh my God, she thinks weakly, I’m about to be raped. She now wishes she has taken self-defense classes instead of spending her evenings at the office.

“Please, no,” she whimpers. This is not make-believe, she realizes. This is horrifically real.

“Let her go!” says a voice at the doorway.

They both look up to see Channing Crawford. He is staring at his brother as though he has seen a ghost.

He blanches. “You. But you’re
dead
.”

Her assailant releases her, and she clambers away from him to run to Channing.

Turning to her, he says tersely, “Go upstairs.”

“Surprised, brother?” she hears the other man say. “How long has it been since you left me there for dead? Ten years?”

“That’s not how it happened and you know it.”

She flees, her heart galloping like wild horses. Part of her desperately wants to listen in on their conversation, but fear lends her feet wings. She half-climbs, half-stumbles up the grand staircase and bolts down a passageway. There’s a room with its door open, and she scuttles in. It’s a bedroom – whose, she doesn’t know – but she locks the door behind her and dives into the attached bathroom.

She cocks her ears very hard for sounds.

Channing might be in trouble. Perhaps he needs her help. She should go to him. Assist him in any way she can.

She needs more clothes than what she is wearing now. But her blue dress is in the closet downstairs, next to where the iron door of the dungeon beckons.

The dungeon.

What has she gotten herself into? Channing is no better than his brother. They are both sick, sick,
sick
. And one of them is supposed to be dead.

So many questions.

What the hell is happening?

She thinks she hears thuds downstairs, but she can’t be certain. The house is too big. Perhaps there is some sort of fight going on. Perhaps they are talking it out like two rational adults. All sorts of grisly scenarios play in her head. She imagines a bloody scuffle with the knives from the rack. Channing . . .
dead
.

Always Channing. Her thoughts keep returning to Channing.

She can’t bear it if something happened to him. Oh yes, she knows that she hasn’t known him for that long, and he has been nothing but dominant and commanding in his treatment of her. But there’s something about him, aside from his obvious good looks, that draws her to him like a moth to a flame, and she must be burned despite knowing the danger.

Oh Channing.

She realizes her cheeks are wet from crying.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there, locked in her little cocoon. But she finally hears muffled sounds of someone knocking on the door.

“Susan? Susan?”

She can’t be sure who it is, but he called her Susan – so it has to be Channing.

She thinks.

Relief floods her as she finds the strength to get to her feet and unlock the bathroom door. She opens the bedroom door an inch. As soon as she sees the shorn head, she wrenches open the door and falls into his arms.

“Has he hurt you?” he says urgently. His face is flushed with concern.

“No.”

It occurs to her that they are embracing each other. He has never held her like this – so fiercely and possessively. The warmth of his body melts through her skin, filling her with emotions too complicated to decipher. His smell permeates her nostrils – that manly musk of security and comfort and anticipation and excitement and everything she has come to expect . . . or
not
expect – from him.

“Where is he?” she whispers against his neck.

“Gone for the moment.” He withdraws from her to gaze into her eyes. “Susan, I want you to stay the weekend with me here. I’ve armed the alarms and sent for additional security.”

“Are we in danger?” Her throat feels parched. It has been forever since she last drank.

He waits for a beat before replying, “Yes.”

“But why? Is he your twin? And why is he here if he’s supposed to be dead?”

“I can’t answer all that right now.” His face sort of closes up again in a way that suggests he does not wish to answer her questions. Ever. “I need to go settle a few things urgently. You’re safe now. Put on some clothes and wait for me until I come back.”

The moment between them has dissipated. She suddenly feels all the strength draining from her body again.

What has she gotten herself into?

EROTICA BY APHRODITE HUNT

The ‘Bound
and Shackled
to the Billionaire’ series

His Indecent Proposition

His Indecent Demands

The ‘Initiation’ series

Open Your Legs for Me

Blindfolded and Spread-eagled

Thighs Wide Apart

Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy

The Final Initiation

The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories

The ‘Initiation 2’ series

Open Your Legs for my Family

Bend Over for my Family

Publicly Display Yourself for Me

Sex Slave at Sea

Paraded before the Billionaires

Sex Slave at the Auction

‘
The Royal Captive’ series

Prince Miro’s Capture

Prince Miro’s Submission

Prince Miro’s Enslavement

Prince Miro’s Punishment

Prince Miro’s Escape

Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation

The Royal Captive: Vol 1 to 3

The Royal Captive: Vol 4 to 6

The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series

I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac

Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me

Gang Banged by the Chain Gang

Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL

The ‘Delicate Piercings’ series

Her First Clit Ring

Her First Clit Ring 2: Menage

The ‘Undercover’ series

Undercover: Exposing the Bad Doctor

Undercover: Stealing from the Sexy CEO

The ‘Alien’ series

Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens

Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens 2

Hot, Wet and Steamy
(individual stories)

When He’s Inside You

My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper

The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense)

WORKS BY ARTEMIS HUNT

EROTIC ROMANCES

The ‘Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male’ series

A Virgin Enslaved

The ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’ series

Mysterious Desire

Forbidden Desire

Dear reader, as this list is not always comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this point in publishing, please visit
http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/
and
http://artemishunt.blogspot.com/
for more stories and updates. I write as Artemis Hunt for erotic romances and Aphrodite Hunt for erotica and erotica with a smattering of romance. So please be aware of what you’re getting into, dear reader, when you read one of my stories. Thank you so much for your support.

MYSTERIOUS DESIRE (AS ARTEMIS HUNT)

Shy and innocent Liz Turner is trying to pay for college, and moonlights as a maid in a swanky hotel. But when a devastatingly handsome stranger barges into the men’s restroom she’s trying to clean – despite the NO ENTRY sign she has put at the door – it’s like kismet.

Violent sparks ignite the libido she never knew she had, and suddenly, he’s seducing her against the wall. Breathless and guilty, he leaves. She never expects to see him again, until she finds out that he is Alexander Vassar – half-American entrepreneur, Harvard graduate . . . and a European crown prince who is engaged to be married to someone else.

A VIRGIN ENSLAVED (AS ARTEMIS HUNT)

Small town girl Beth Tyrell has always planned on losing her virginity on her marriage bed to a man who would love and cherish her forever. But when she meets her new boss, the stunningly handsome and mercurial CEO, Chris Morton, she experiences an all-encompassing, gut-wrenching libidinous 'I want to be taken right here on your desk' desire that she has never known.
What's happening to her? Especially since Chris is a damaged entity who has multiple 'friends with benefits' and a fervent vow to never love a woman again. Even more perplexing is his obvious desire for her - a desire so palpable it borders on obsession.
Then Chris proposes an arrangement to explore their mutual passion: "Try me out for seven days. No penetration, I promise . . . unless you want it."
In this complex passion game, one of them must succumb first, except that things rarely work out as planned.