Claimed by the Beast Read online

  It’s been six years since I buried my cock balls-deep in some pussy, but to be honest, it doesn’t seem that long. Probably because I’ve gotten plenty of blowjobs from women here and there. Not hard in my line of work as a security guard. Plus, I’ve got my porn stash: DVDs, magazines, and every once in a while I’ll check out what’s trending on the internet. But I almost always shoot my load to my favorites on-screen or in the glossy folds of my mag. I’m old school when it comes to cumming. I find what works and I keep using it. Guess I’m loyal like that.

  But now, when I think about Chastity’s nipples pricking right in front of me, I feel something stir inside my depths, something stronger than what that superficial bullshit does. I stand still in my kitchen and feast on it for a moment, let my mind play with it, toy with the possibilities. And I realize it’s stirring up a dark part of me. Maybe dangerous, I don’t know.

  I do know I wouldn’t hurt her. I’m no psychopath or sadist. I don’t enjoy the thought of being responsible for making a girl experience pain. But I also know that I want to explore her tender body, whether she wants it or not. That’s the part that’s dark, that’s sending rivers of heat through my center.

  And I know that I should help her find her way back to her car. But instead, I will keep her here and act on this darkness before the sun sets.

  Chapter Two

  Chastity

  This is my destiny. It must be. I’m being punished for some wrongdoing in another life, maybe. I don’t know.

  The first ten minutes that my captor was gone, I’d sat on the bed, wrapped in a blanket and shivering in the cool, dank air as I wondered what was going to happen to me. Then I snapped out of it, realizing I needed to spend my time looking for something I could use as a weapon. After spending several minutes going through the small space, I’ve determined that short of whacking him upside the head with an alarm clock or a record player that looks older than my grandma, I’m pretty well screwed.

  I thought about prying the needle off the arm of the record player, but what kind of damage could I do with that?

  I tiptoe up the stairs and attempt to open the door. The knob twists; it’s unlocked. But I can’t nudge it open more than a few centimeters, which means he probably jimmied it shut with a chair. For some odd reason, this brings me comfort. I mean, if he were a professional kidnapper, wouldn’t he have a dedicated area for his victims with a kidnapper-grade lock system?

  I go downstairs and sit on the bed again, wrapping the blanket tighter around my body. My mom will probably call, wondering where I am when I don’t answer. She’ll track my phone and come looking for me, find my things near the river—if he leaves them there, which he probably won’t. My only hope is that the cops will start questioning the homeowners in the area, if they’re able to ping my phone.

  Just as soon as she gets back from her overnight trip tomorrow night.

  And, of course, the asshole who brought me here will just lie when the cops show up.

  When I hear movement at the door, I pull the blanket tighter, my heart skipping around as his boots come clodding down the stairs. He’s changed into dry clothes—dark jeans and a white undershirt. A roll of silver duct tape hangs from his belt, and my insides go sour as nausea grips me.

  With his gaze pointed at my feet, he curls a finger in my direction.

  I tighten my grip on the corner of the fabric.

  He blows out an impatient breath. “I’m not going to hurt you. Come here.”

  I swallow the burn as it crawls up my throat and stand up, moving slowly in his direction.

  His gaze shifts to me, trailing from the floor all the way up to my neck, then back down again. It’s almost as if he’s trying to see through the material wrapped around me.

  “Get rid of it.”

  My breath hitches in my throat. “Get rid of what?”

  His eyes meet mine. “The blanket.”

  Without allowing me to remove it myself, he closes the two-foot gap between us and pulls open the front, forcing the material from my fingers.

  He tosses it aside and I shiver.

  I keep my eyes focused on his chest, at the way it rises and falls with each breath. I’m afraid to look at his face.

  A low rumble climbs up his throat and fear forces my nipples to prick tightly. At least I think it’s fear. What else could it be?

  “How old are you?” he asks, his voice gruff.

  “Eighteen,” I answer, suddenly wishing I had lied. Maybe if he thought I was just a kid he would let me go. I think back to my eighteenth birthday party—a surprise, courtesy of mom. She’d invited Will, my school crush who liked me too, I think, but, like me, was too shy to say as much. I’d wanted to give Will my virginity that night, but he left without inviting me anywhere.

  That was just three weeks ago.

  “Turn around.”

  I look up at his face. His beard is a little long, but neatly trimmed, and his eyes, dark but rich like black coffee, show several crow’s feet fanning out, leading me to believe he’s older but not quite old enough to be going through a mid-life crisis. He licks his lips and lifts a brow, making me shudder, before spinning his finger in the air.

  With my arms at my sides, I do a one-eighty, my hands growing clammy as I anticipate the unknown.

  I feel him move close behind me. He touches my shoulder, runs several fingers down my arm, leans in and sniffs my neck. His beard grazes my skin, and tingles dance along my flesh.

  “Your name is Chastity?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I saw it on your phone.” When I feel him wrap his hands around my waist, I hold my breath, but then, as he moves them across my belly and down the front of my panties, I can’t help but gasp.

  “Tell me the truth, Chastity. Why were you on my property?”

  The tips of his fingers slowly move up and down, caressing my lower lips and making me flustered. “I … I told you the truth. I got lost. I’m … stupid. Not good at anything I do.”

  He freezes, angles his head to look at my profile. I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t.

  His clothes brush my back as he leans into me. His warm breath on my neck makes my heart race. He flattens his palms over the tops of my thighs, squeezes, and I become dizzy.

  “Do you know how dangerous it is? Going off trail like that around here?”

  I shake my head, thinking of the irony in that statement.

  “There are a lot of dangers lurking out there. You should stay here for a while. In the meantime, I think I should bathe you.”

  With an arm around my waist, he leads me to the stairs and walks me up to the main floor. At the landing is a hallway, which he leads me down, walking me into the last door on the left.

  It has to be the master bedroom because the bed itself is fit for a king. With dark wooden posters as thick as my thighs and that nearly reach the ceiling, his bed makes my jaw drop. As we pass by it, I notice the intricate carvings in the wood. A moss green comforter that looks to be made of suede covers the top. I instinctively reach down to touch it, amazed at how soft it is.

  Once we’re in the bathroom, he lowers the toilet seat and sits me down before starting the water in the garden tub. With multiple jets all the way around the lining, it’s obvious this tub was meant for multiple people.

  My stomach tenses as he checks the temp of the water before flipping the lever and allowing it to fill. Another curl of the finger and a sharp look, and I stand up, knowing what he’s about to do. I feel more vulnerable than ever as he grips the waist of my panties and peels them down my trembling legs, a sense of repulsion with the fact that I have to hold onto his shoulders as he strips me of the last bit of modesty that remains.

  “Get in,” he says, guiding me while holding my hand to keep me steady.

  I hug my legs to my chest as the lukewarm water tickles my sides. He removes a wash cloth from the bar on the wall then sits on the edge of the tub, facing me and offering a disdainful look.

&
nbsp; “Now, I can’t exactly wash you with you curled in on yourself like that, can I?”

  He uses a hand to push my legs down, and my teeth start to chatter.

  “Is the water too cold?”

  “A little.”

  He turns the nozzle and within seconds, I feel the warmth spread my way. After dipping the wash cloth into the water and rolling a bar of soap around, he moves it over my stomach. I watch his hands as they almost lovingly caress my flesh.

  He moves over my right leg as it sits half submerged in the water, then over to the left leg before traveling up and back across my stomach. When the material moves over my breasts, I pull my lips inside my mouth and bite down until it hurts.

  With laser focus, he keeps his dark eyes pointed at my chest, watching my tender buds turn hard at his touch. Every few seconds, he dunks the cloth in the tub then holds it over my nipples, letting the water drip, drip, drip on my sensitive tissue.

  Tingles bounce along my skin, and this familiar feeling of fullness grows in my tummy before spreading between my legs. He tortures me with this for several moments, moving the cloth in soft circles over my breasts until I’m nearly panting. I suddenly realize how hot my face is. Embarrassment, lust, I don’t know.

  Why am I letting him do this to me? Humiliate me like this? He can see the way my body is responding, and we both know how wrong it is.

  But what’s more wrong is the fact that I’m not putting a stop to it.

  When he moves the wash cloth to my face, my body relaxes. I close my eyes and hear him breathe as he leans closer. Then the cloth splashes next to me.

  “Give me your hands.”

  “Hmm?”

  When I open my eyes, he’s tugging the duct tape off his belt.

  “Your hands. Let me see them.”

  With fear pulsing through me, I hold my hands up in a “surrender” as water drips down to my elbow.

  After peeling off one corner, he sets the tape down next to him and uses a hand towel to dry my hands and arms. From there, he encircles my wrists with the sticky silver material. Panic starts to consume me, and I struggle, but he grips my forearm firmly.

  “Just let me do this. It will be easier.”

  For who? I want to ask.

  His focus is sharp as he wraps the tape around my wrists so tight I have to clasp my fingers together in mock prayer. My pulse quickens as he loops one finger under the edge of the tape and pulls my arms above my head, holding it there while he uses something to secure it against the tiled wall behind me.

  When he lowers himself, he’s on the floor this time, pointing his gaze at my face, then dragging his eyes down my body again, setting right on my tuft of hair floating above the surface of the water.

  And that’s where he moves the wash cloth, nudging his hand against my thighs to force them open.

  “I have to wash you everywhere. Be a good girl.”

  I instinctively want to clamp my legs shut, but when he places his palm gently on my leg and forces a space there, I know I just have to give in.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and let him move the cloth over my crotch, realizing that he is being rather gentle, moving in a circle to get me clean.

  But then the pressure intensifies, and he homes in on my clit. I tighten the muscles in my thighs as I feel my body react to his touch. Though, he’s not really touching me. Not exactly. He’s touching me with the cloth. No, washing me.

  I don’t know what he’s doing or trying to do, but the more he washes, the tighter that ball in my stomach gets. I wiggle my fingers and try to pull my hands down, feeling tight all over as I realize what’s happening. Everything in me fights it.

  I can’t let him make me have an orgasm.

  I … I don’t even know him.

  And the bastard has brought me here against my will.

  So why is my body responding the way it is?

  I could tell him to stop, but … oh Jesus. I don’t want to tell him to stop.

  God, it’s like, suddenly, I need this. I want this.

  I slowly begin to grind my hips upward. Maybe I can have the release I need without him noticing.

  The heat builds inside my veins, and it becomes almost painful trying to fight it.

  His hand moves to my small breast and he cups it lightly, moving his rough thumb over my nipple and giving it a light pinch. Right as he does, he applies the exact amount of pressure needed between my legs to make me cum.

  I let out a soft whimper as the contractions wash over me. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, feeling my nipples prick as a low growl comes from my captor.

  “That’s a good girl,” he grumbles, holding the washcloth over my womanhood until the waves wash away.

  After pushing the lever down to let out the water, he releases my hands and helps me get up. Wrapping a thick, fluffy towel around my dripping body and patting me dry, he’s making me wonder what he’s got planned next.

  He reaches inside a drawer and removes a pair of scissors before making several cuts in the duct tape. And his hands are gentle as he tugs the material from my wrists slowly to avoid hurting my skin. The next thing he does is gently tug the elastic from my hair, causing it to spill down my shoulders.

  I watch his face as he does this, noticing how intensely he focuses. When his eyes flick to mine, I could swear I see demons dancing in his irises.

  Slade

  I just wanted to see her body, to look at her flesh under the water and see if I was right about how perfect she is.

  I didn’t really intend to make her cum.

  But I did. And the delicious fucking sight of her release with her arms restrained has my blood pumping in all the right places.

  “Why are you doing this?” Chastity asks, her voice wavering as she stands before me naked.

  My cock twitches but I won’t make her relieve me just yet. So, I wrap the towel around her body and tuck the corner in. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

  Chastity follows me back into the bedroom, and I make a beeline for my dresser to find something for her to wear while her clothes finish washing. She stands still, hands clasped delicately, dark hair falling in wisps down the front of her. I locate a white ribbed tank top of mine and a pair of jean shorts Rhonda must have left behind, passing them to Chastity.

  “I tend to be a little possessive.”

  “Huh?” she lifts a brow at me.

  “You asked why I was doing this. Aren’t you aware of the Cuthbert family? That they could be involved in the disappearance of two other women?”

  “The Cuthbert family? I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “Well, when something vulnerable comes onto my property, I want to keep it safe from true predators, and that includes you.” I tug the towel off her body. “Now, why don’t you put these on and make yourself comfortable on my bed. I’ll be back momentarily.”

  I walk out and head to the kitchen, leaving Chastity all alone in my room. But I’m not worried that she’ll do anything stupid. After restraining her and bringing her tender little body to orgasm? Fuck. I’ve got her right where I want her. I can see it in her eyes.

  I’m starving, so I decide to cook us an early dinner. A few grilled steaks sound perfect, so I head outside and fire up the grill, then come back in and cut up some bread before turning on the oven.

  By the time I get back to my bedroom, Chastity is sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor. “You hungry?”

  Her eyes float my way. “A little.”

  “I’m grilling some steaks. Why don’t you come in the kitchen and sit with me?”

  Chastity stands up and I can’t help but get a little stiff again. The shorts are a little big, as is the tank top. But I can see through the white fabric, and the points of her nipples are impossible to miss.

  I sit her at the kitchen table and offer her a stack of magazines before bringing the steaks outside, carefully plotting what I’m going to do with my new toy. She seems more sad than scared, which is ju
st downright strange. I wonder what it would take to put a smile on that pretty little face of hers.

  While manning the grill, I occasionally peek inside the window at Chastity, her chin resting on her fist as she casually thumbs through a magazine. I recall her body trembling when she came in the tub, her nipples pricking under my fingers, her voice straining to fight the lustful sounds she obviously wanted to make, her cheeks flushing.

  I imagine how much better it would have been if I had used my finger instead of a fucking washcloth. Well, the time to experience that is coming, and soon. My balls are quickly filling up, and since I have a warm, sexy participant in my home, there’s no need for me to jerk off.

  I set our food on some plates and Chastity looks ravenous as I put her steak down in front of her. I pass her a fork and a steak knife, and she looks at me with wonder before taking it from my hands.

  “You … actually trust me with this?”

  I nod. “I haven’t given you a reason to run screaming from here just yet, have I?”

  It’s true. Honestly, by the time I’m done with her, she’ll be screaming all right. In pleasure. And not long after that, she’ll be begging to stay with me.

  She doesn’t answer my question, just cuts into her steak and shoves large hunks in her mouth. Damn, I love a girl who isn’t afraid to eat like a savage. Makes my blood pump hard.

  “There’s plenty of bread, if you want some.”

  She eyes the basket on the table and takes a piece, ripping a large bite off with her teeth. Fuck, everything about this girl is sexy. I want to learn more.

  “Why did you call yourself stupid earlier?”

  After picking at her teeth with a fingernail, she sets down her utensils. “I mean, I am stupid. I got lost on a heavily marked, heavily trafficked trail.”

  I consider her words. She had insisted she was lost but I hadn’t believed her at the time. The pangs of guilt eat at me, and I make a mental note to make her next orgasm extra delicious.