Rapine 3: Retrieved by the Billionaire Read online

  When we get home, I take a shower. Suddenly, the door flings open. I scream, surprised. He must have discovered that I’ve flushed away his drugs.

  Derek steps into the all glass shower, grabs my neck with one hand, and shoves me against the marble shower wall. I can barely breathe.

  “Please stop, you’re hurting me,” I gasp. “I can’t breathe.”

  “I think it’s time I showed you who’s boss. I am losing my patience with you. I have treated you well, but you have blatantly disrespected me.”

  He hits my cheek so hard that my head turns to the side. He slaps my cheek again, and the sting brings tears to my eyes. He turns me around and slaps my ass hard. I cry out in pain.

  He continues to slap my rear with the palm of his hand. A flood of tears rush down my face. The pain is too much to bear. Every slap—a total of fifteen—feels more intense than the last.

  Finally he stops. I pray that he has finished punishing me. Instead, he bends me over, enters me from behind, and begins to fuck me.

  He thrusts into me at a beastly speed. It’s more painful than anything I’ve ever felt—the combined pain of him fucking my insides raw and the burning ache from the slaps on my rear. His spearing stabs make me cry out in agony. I wish I could take the strongest painkiller available.

  His balls bang against my sore rear as he rushes to finish, propelling his cock deep into me with all his strength.

  He grits his teeth, air escaping loudly from his mouth as a streaming jet of hot semen fills me. Each sticky, thick burst courses against my inner walls. He milks himself out inside me until he finally slows, then stops.

  I have previously been with him for two and a half years, yet I never knew who he really was until now. He is nothing more than an evil, malicious fucking bastard.

  CHAPTER SIX

  In the morning I awaken when I feel Derek press a wet kiss on my forehead. I keep my eyes shut, pretending to sleep. When I’m sure he is gone, I get out of bed and head to the bathroom.

  My insides are sore and my ass feels swollen and raw. I massage soothing lotion into the skin that Derek’s palms had reddened and bruised.

  I get dressed and head to the kitchen for an Advil. Julian’s handsome face comes to my mind. He feels like a distant, foggy memory—a beautiful, unreal fairy tale. With no way to contact him, I have no idea where he is or when he will come. Each passing day feels like an eternity. When will he come? Weeks? Months? The questions frighten me. I can’t stand to be around Derek any longer.

  I watch the news as I eat breakfast. Suddenly, the news channel disappears from the screen and Julian’s face comes into view.

  I blink several times, unable to believe it. My heart speeds in exhilaration as I realize that it’s really Julian.

  “Julian!” I screech. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Shhh, don’t worry about me,” Julian says quietly.

  “How did you…?”

  “I had no problem hacking the television,” he explains.

  I burst into tears. A variety of emotions overwhelm me, but mostly love. Immense love fills me as I stare at the man for whom I care for so desperately.

  “I’m coming for you, please don’t cry,” he says soothingly.

  “Julian, Derek, Derek…he….” I gasp. I want to tell Julian of all the pain Derek is causing me but I can’t finish my words as more tears flow down my cheeks and my throat burns and constricts.

  “Please don’t cry,” Julian says softly. “I need you to remain calm.”

  I nod my head. “But I don’t know how much longer I can take being around him.”

  “I’m coming for you soon.”

  I sniffle as I realize how much I’ve missed him.

  “Shh,” he says gently. “I must go, but be prepared for my arrival. It must be unexpected, so don’t give Derek even the slightest indication that I am coming for you.”

  I nod again and wipe away the tears that refuse to stop dripping from my eyes.

  Julian’s face disappears and the news channel reappears. A female newscaster discusses a local shooting.

  I smile, look down, and touch my belly. Julian is coming and everything will return to normal. I wipe the remaining tears from my eyes.

  Derek returns at 8 p.m. and takes a shower while I read on my Internet-disabled glass tablet in the living room. I am reading an ebook about the male brain; the book explains the ways in which men thrive under competition.

  Now I understand the reason Julian pursued me with such vigor even though I was engaged. For most men competition is exciting. Winning over an engaged or committed women is thrilling, especially for a man like Julian, who is used to women throwing themselves at him.

  Derek appears in the living room and smiles. “What are you reading, darling?”

  “Oh, just trying to understand men.” I smile back.

  “What is there to understand? We’re fairly simple creatures. All we need for happiness is lots of money and a beautiful woman who satisfies us in bed.”

  He approaches me. “Can you do that for me?” I rise to my feet.

  “Derek, no,” I protest. Having sex with a man for whom I have no feelings has been the hardest, most painful thing I’ve ever done.

  As I take in Derek’s chiseled face and angular jaw, I have to admit that he is very attractive, but Julian takes up my heart so entirely that sex with Derek feels empty and meaningless.

  “Please, no,” I plead.

  Derek undresses me. I let him. I’ve learned that my refusal to his advances will only lead to a futile struggle.

  He grabs my ass firmly. “You’re mine,” he whispers through gritted teeth. “I’ve done everything in my power to get you back. Now that I have you, I will do as I please.” He unhooks my bra and lets it fall to the white quartz floor. He grabs my breasts with his hands and squeezes.

  He runs one of his hands down my stomach and between my legs. He pushes aside my panties and inserts a finger. I try to push him away, but he grabs both of my wrists with one of his hands while continuing to finger me with the other.

  He inserts a second finger and increases the speed at which he finger fucks me. “You’re getting so wet for me.”

  I hate the way my body reacts to his foreplay. It’s unstoppable, and the faster he finger fucks me, the wetter I get.

  “Stop,” I beg as his fingers move rougher and faster.

  He simply grins and shoves his fingers deeper inside me. He looks pleased with himself. Lust emanates from his eyes.

  Wetness drenches and coats his fingers, spilling from me like a cascade. He stops and pulls out his fingers. “Look how wet you are for me,” he says as he raises his hand to show me his shiny, coated fingers.

  He carries me upstairs into the master bedroom. He lays me on the bed and quickly slides out of his pants and boxer-briefs. He lays on top of me, pinning me down with no room for escape. His eager cock presses against my thigh.

  “Darling, don’t deny me,” he whispers as he rims my earlobe with his hot, wet tongue.

  He spreads my legs and places his face between them. He licks up and down my thighs while holding me down, his hand pressed on my stomach.

  His tongue nears my opening and enters me. He expertly flicks his tongue on my clitoris. I moan with pleasure. I can’t deny that he is making me feel good.

  His tongue speeds up and moves rapidly from side to side, up and down, stimulating my clitoris and making me groan. I hate to admit it, but he is doing a good job.

  He shoves two fingers inside me as his tongue works fast and hard, hitting my clitoris with perfect rhythm. His fingers move deep and rough inside me. Pleasure shoots through me and I climax hard.

  He lifts his face from between my legs and watches in delight as my body convulses. After my body stills, a deep calm overtakes me. I lay there, relaxed and satisfied. I look into his glowing eyes and feel ashamed that my body has betrayed me—the body that I want only Julian to have and pleasure.

  “I’m not do
ne with you yet.” Derek gets on top of me and forces his mouth over mine, shoving his tongue inside and kissing me savagely. His cock throbs against my thigh, ready to fill me.

  With one hard thrust, he enters me. I cry out and he begins to move, setting a wild, hardcore pace. I hear the loud smacking of his hips against mine as he drives his cock deeper into me.

  He stops moving to plant kisses on my lips. He pulls away to examine my face. “I love you, Cheryl.”

  I close my eyes as he rebuilds the fast pace and hard friction inside me. His length is rock-hard and slams deep with each thrust.

  My inner juices spill around his entrenched cock and my groans echo loudly around the bedroom. I feel his balls stiffening against me, getting ready to unleash his seed.

  He groans loudly as his creamy heat explodes and shoots inside me. He grinds into me, milking out his balls as though his life depends on it. He lets out a final beastly groan before collapsing beside me, breathing heavily. I feel the liquid leak out from me and drip down my inner thigh.

  We lay still for a while. I move to get up, but Derek’s reflex is fast and his hand pushes me back onto the bed. “You sleep here tonight and every night from now on.”

  I close my eyes and know that I need only follow his rules for a little while longer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I awake to feel Derek kissing my forehead before he leaves for work. I hear him put an object on the bed stand beside me. When I open my eyes, I see my transparent glass cell phone. I pick it up and examine it. I try to call Julian on it, but it doesn’t even ring—outgoing calls are disabled.

  I eat breakfast and watch the news, wondering how Julian will react if he learns what Derek has done to me.

  My phone rings but I don’t pick it up. I know it’s Derek. It rings for a while, then stops. After a few minutes, it rings again. I finally pick it up.

  “Cheryl, what took you so long to answer my call?” Derek sounds irritated.

  “I picked up, didn’t I?” I bark.

  “Don’t talk to me with attitude,” he warns. A few moments of silence pass, then he clears his throat. “I’d like to inform you that you are free to leave the penthouse any time you choose. I want you to resume your regular schedule.”

  I recall how brutally Derek has been treating me lately, but in a way I am relieved. Had I never met Julian and actually married Derek, I would have been in for a big, unpleasant surprise. I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to see Derek’s true, dark nature. Sometimes you don’t really know someone until unexpected situations arise. In many cases you don’t truly know a person until years later. I wonder if the drugs Derek uses have anything to do with his personality change.

  “Derek, have you been using drugs?”

  “Nonsense,” he replies. “I must get back to work.” He hangs up.

  That evening, when Derek arrives home, we have dinner together. Then he fucks my mouth and my pussy mercilessly, using me for his pleasure, until he climaxes and falls asleep. I cry quietly.

  I can’t fall asleep, so I get up and search the kitchen cabinet. I find a bottle of pregnancy-safe sleeping pills and swallow one. I go back to bed and fall into a light, agitated sleep.

  In the morning, Derek kisses me and leaves for work. I get dressed and have breakfast. My phone rings and I know I have no choice but to pick up.

  “Cheryl, how are you?” Derek says sweetly.

  I don’t respond. What does he expect me to say after I’ve been slapped around?

  “Cheryl, I have an important call on the other line. I must go, but I wanted to tell you that, for tonight, I expect you to wear a beautiful dress, style your hair, and put on lipstick and perfume.”

  “As you wish,” I say sarcastically.

  About an hour before I expect Derek to return, I style my hair in loose waves. I put on a red silk dress and red lipstick, then spritz perfume on my wrists. My heart sinks when I look in the mirror. Julian would love me in this dress and would instantly want to ravish me.

  I sit in the living room, awaiting Derek’s return. When he comes home, he looks pleased to see me. I rise to show him my ensemble. He scans me up and down, then rests his eyes on my face.

  “You look so beautiful.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “I like the lip color you are wearing. And what is that perfume?’

  “Chanel.”

  “Very good. You look and smell lovely.” He places his finger under my chin and lifts my face. He kisses me softly on the lips. Dutifully, I respond to the kiss until he pulls back.

  “Any future attempts to disrespect me will be punished. I expect full cooperation from you,” he orders. “Let’s get seated for dinner. I have more to discuss with you.”

  During dinner, Derek lays out more rules that I must follow. I am told that I must refer to him as “King.” I snicker quietly, my derision escaping his notice, but nod in agreement. He also says that I must tell him I love him, even if my feelings say otherwise. I flinch when I consider this, but nod again.

  We spend the rest of dinner in silence. Derek has a few glasses of red wine. My mind is running a mile a minute as I consider how drastically he has changed.

  After dinner, we sit close to each other on the couch in the living room. Derek sips on a glass of wine. He offers me some, but I politely decline and he doesn’t push further. I am thankful that alcohol consumption is not one of his “rules.”

  He is more relaxed than usual and appears intoxicated. His eyes are red and his face is flushed. He must have used drugs today, no doubt keeping his stash better hidden from me, maybe at his workplace or locked away in his home office.

  He runs his hands along the soft fabric of my dress.

  “Tell me, whom do you love?” he asks.

  I don’t dare upset him. I look at him and freeze. He knows how I feel. Why would he ask such a question? I recall the rules that he laid out during dinner. I know he is testing my ability to follow them.

  He waits patiently for an answer, but after a minute has passed and I have remained silent, his patience wears off. His lips press together and his eyes blaze.

  I turn away from him. My body tenses at what I fear may be coming.

  He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls back, causing my chin to lift and my eyes to meet his. He pulls just hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  I choke back the whimper in my throat.

  “Answer me, darling,” he growls, his jaw clenched.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  He loosens his grip on my hair and smiles. Then he appears to recall something and frowns. His eyes fill with anger and jealousy. “Do you love anyone else, Cheryl?”

  I panic and gulp, trying to suppress the stab of pain I feel in my heart. Tears spring to my eyes as he tightens his grip and pulls my hair at the root. I let out a frightened yelp. I am at his mercy and there is no escaping him—he is the cat and I am the mouse.

  “Do you?” he asks with fire blazing in his eyes.

  “No, my king,” I whisper. I’m not surprised that he is fully aroused, his eyes filling with savage lust.

  He pretends to be puzzled. “Do you love anyone else, Cheryl?” he asks in a voice of silk.

  “No, I love only you,” I lie. My heart clenches hard and tight, and suddenly I feel as though I can’t breathe probably due to my elevated stress level. I try to take in a breath, but my lungs fail and I feel as though I will suffocate if he grips my hair any tighter. He seems to notice my paling face and lets go of my hair.

  He gives me a moment to recover as he calmly sips his wine. His face is devoid of emotion before he resumes his questioning.

  “I have you because I was willing to do whatever it took to get you back. Now that I think about it, I greatly regret not having chopped up Julian. Perhaps I should have cut off his head, encased it in glass with embalming fluid, and kept it as a friendly reminder of my dominance over you.”

  My eyes widen in shock. I examine Derek. He is unrepentant. He seems oblivious to the
depths of his violence, and inordinately pleased with himself.

  “You will marry me. We will go through with the wedding a month from now.” He eyes me and takes a sip of wine. “How does that sound?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I struggle to produce an appropriate answer.

  “You loved me very much before and I’m sure you will love me even more, seeing as I’ve become your dominant romantic option.”

  He produces his glass phone from his suit pocket and taps at the screen. “The date has been set. Mark it in your calendar. A month from today shall be our wedding day.” He puts away his phone and turns his attention back to me.

  He stares harshly at me in silence until my heart races and my arms and fingers feel jittery. His domineering, aggressive demeanor appears to be gaining a foothold over me.

  At last he speaks, in a soft, almost affectionate tone. “Female genital mutilation is practiced by ethnic groups in some twenty-seven countries in Africa, Yemen, and Iraqi Kurdistan. When their women reach the age of puberty they cut away the clitoris to keep them pure and, once they are married, to keep them loyal to their husbands.”

  Derek watches for my reaction. My eyes widen and my mouth drops open. He seems pleased with my response.

  “Some of the primitive tribes of Africa are the worst of all. They perform a procedure known as infibulation in which they cut away the clitoris and the inner and outer labia of the vagina to remove the core of sexual pleasure so that women may never be tempted to stray from their husbands.”

  Derek takes a sip of wine as he waits for this startling new information to settle in.

  “So how do you suppose a man can ensure that an engaged or married woman will remain loyal to him?” He looks at me severely.

  I choke back the tickle in my throat and blink my eyes to keep the tears from flooding out. I push aside my thoughts of Julian and try to maintain my composure. It’s becoming increasingly difficult.