“I bet you can’t hold out five minutes before you’re begging for this,” he taunts, grinding his erection into my throbbing mound.

Groaning, I pull against my restraints as I buck against his hard body. The man may be in his mid-thirties, but he’s got the toned physique of someone a decade younger. I lift my head, a hasty attempt to capture his mouth with mine, but he’s too quick and retreats to the foot of the bed.

“Uh-uh. No kisses for you either until you answer my question correctly,” he warns lightheartedly. “Now I’ll ask again, Blake. Yes what?”

A blaze of rebellion sweeps through me, and with a boldness I’ve never felt before, I tip my nose in the air and shake my head, a wicked grin threatening to break through my compressed lips. Warm laughter fills the air and my heart swells at the sound of his amusement, but then, the next thing I know, he’s flipped me over on my stomach in one swift motion.

Seconds later, my lacy panties disappear from my body and he’s kneeling between my ankles, my drenched sex open to him to do as he pleases. Slowly, he drags his fingers up the inseam of my calves then thighs, stopping just before he reaches the spot I so desperately need him to touch. Arching my back, I lift my bare ass into the air. A silent plea.

“What? You want my fingers playing with that tight little pussy you’re offering up to me?”

His vulgar words cause my gut to clench, but instead of with disgust, it’s pure carnal desire that his dirty talk ignites. Each time we’re together, he strips away more and more of my inhibitions, and I’ve begun to crave the freedom it allows me to indulge in.

“Please,” I whimper, spreading my legs wider for him. “Please touch me.”

An unexpected smack across my right butt cheek startles me, but before my brain has time to register any pain, he’s kissing the spot of impact. “Answer me, stubborn girl, and I’ll touch you.”

“Yes,” I sigh, leading him to believe I’m going to give in, but then stop at the single word.

Another smack, this time to the other cheek, which is also followed by a soothing press of his lips. “Yes what?”

“Please,” I beg again, my voice breathy and low. “I need you.”

My thoughts are blurred; swirls of iridescent light dance behind my closed lids. Every nerve ending is on high alert, waiting to see what he’ll do next. The intensifying ache in my core is becoming unbearable.

With a feral growl, he grabs my hips firmly and yanks me higher up on my knees, falling into place directly behind me. The tip of his cock presses up against my wet slit, rubbing up and down between my swollen lips. “Feels so fucking incredible, Blake. Don’t make me wait any longer. Tell me.” His fingers bite into the skin covering my hips, holding me perfectly still as he spreads my juices from my clit to my puckered asshole. “Do you want my dick inside you? Do you want me to make you come all over it?”

Unable to resist him any longer, I accept defeat and cry out, “Yes, Sir!” as he claims my body for his own.

Feverish kisses to my neck and a fast-paced rhythm bring me to my first orgasm rapidly, and I explode blissfully as he thrusts behind me, seeing a galaxy full of stars through my euphoric climax. However, as I collapse onto the sheets with exhaustion, needing a few seconds to catch my breath, a strong hand grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head backward.

“Bitch, I didn’t tell you it was time to rest,” Ish’s loathsome voice snarls in my ear. “Get your ass up and please your husband.”

Frantic and hysterical, I jerk against the ropes tied around my wrists like a wild animal unwilling to be tamed, but the restraints won’t budge. I try to kick my legs, to fight him off of me, but I’m no match for Ish. He pins me down with his weight, straddling my hips as he forces himself into me. It feels like he’s ripping the flesh off of me each time he pulls out and plunges back in, my body trying its damnedest to reject his advances.

As hot tears spill from my eyes, soaking the sash that covers them, I scream over and over again, “No! No! Get off me!”

The nightmare stops suddenly as two burly but gentle arms wrap tightly around me and my face is buried into a warm, inviting chest. Then a voice that’s neither Madden’s nor Ish’s, yet oddly familiar, murmurs into my hair, “Quiet there, kotyonok. You’re gonna be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

ANY MAN WHO MURDERS ANOTHER man in his sleep is a worthless coward. Never have I taken another life without first looking into my victim’s eyes, making them aware I own what I’m about to do. One hundred fucking percent. I’m a man of conviction. A man who never second-guesses himself.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of goddamn cowards in this world, which is why I learned early in life to function on very little sleep. In my line of work, I can’t afford to be left vulnerable to my enemies, and more often than not, my enemies are lying in the shadows, patiently waiting for me to let my guard down. A moment of weakness when I keep my eyes closed just a second too long . . . only to ensure I never open them again.

The girl asleep on the couch in the next room is no exception. Her physical appearance is misleading. She may appear to be a tiny, frail little thing—standing at least a full foot shorter than me and weighing a hundred pounds soaking wet, with a sweet, innocent face to boot—but I see the way she tracks my every movement, mentally cataloguing where everything is kept in this isolated cabin. The amount of time she stares at the kitchen drawer where the knives are kept isn’t lost on me. I know she wants to kill me. She wouldn’t think twice about bludgeoning me to death if it meant her freedom. But I can’t let that happen. And she’ll never be free.

Yesterday, when she thought I wasn’t looking, I caught her peeking out the small window, frantically surveying her surroundings. I then saw the despair settle in her eyes when she realized we’re in the middle of nowhere, and that even if she were to miraculously escape from my custody, she’s got nowhere to go. This safe house—hidden in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of Northern California—was built by my family in the early eighties for exactly this type of situation. Disappearing from the face of the Earth. Only, the ironic thing right now is that the place I most want to disappear from is this fucking place. Because of her.

As if on cue, I hear her moving around in her sleep in the next room, the old couch squeaking its complaints as she shifts her weight. Then she begins to murmur something I can’t quite decipher, so I slide off of the rock-hard mattress to go check on her and make sure she’s actually asleep.

Ever since our first night here, especially after she spit in my face and told me to fuck off, I’ve been trying my best to put some distance between us, her presence disarming in a way it shouldn’t be. It was easier that first day back at my place in L.A., when she stayed locked in her room and I had the whole rest of the house to do my thing. But here in these close quarters, it’s not that simple.

Peering around the doorframe a second before I step into the living area, I freeze mid-stride at the mind-blowing sight laid out before my eyes and I hiss in a sharp breath. Ty che, b`lyad’?

With her blanket in a heap on the floor, apparently having fallen off when she was moving around, she is completely uncovered as her oversized t-shirt is bunched up around her waist. Sheer, white lacy panties are on full display, revealing her soft, milky thighs, but that’s not even the worst of it. One of her hands is resting just on top of the elastic waistband, her fingers slowly stroking back and forth across the exposed skin of her lower stomach as a playful smirk tugs on the corners of her lips. My dick stirs to life at the erotic image.