A cool laugh mocked her efforts. Strong fingers sank into her up-do, tugging her head back. “Nice try, little cat.” He didn’t actually speak. He breathed the warped endearment, his words hot against her cheek. “Now, be a good girl and you won’t get hurt…much.”
God, please, let Connor come back. Let him find me.
Her captor released her hair and mouth, but a ball of fabric replaced his hand, forcing her lips open to press on her tongue, gagging her. He wrenched her to her feet and thrust her chest against a nearby tree. The man did nothing to hurt her, but his grip proved unbreakable. Using his body weight, he held her in place as he jerked a stocking cap backward over her face so she had no holes to see or breathe through. Claustrophobia threatened to smother her while he dragged her, stumbling, down the pebbled slope. Gavin and Savannah had already left. She’d driven her only other friend off in a snit.
No one will miss me! No one will help.
Once her feet touched the smooth asphalt parking lot, Kate fought her captor wildly, jerking and twisting. Her purse was in her car, her cell and key fob tucked for safekeeping in the pocket of Connor’s tuxedo jacket, which she had given back to him. Even if she could break the kidnapper’s steely grip, she couldn’t escape to her car. Her only hope was to draw the attention of someone from the party. The gag and mask muffled her screams, and she could not discern anything beyond vague shapes. When she connected with the kidnapper’s knee, he wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed until she struggled to inhale.
“Kick me again and regret it.” He shifted her to one arm the second before she heard the click of a car door. He shoved her onto a bench seat. “Put your hands in your lap. Now!”
When she didn’t move fast enough, he caught her wrists and tied them together, then belted her in place, leaving her completely helpless.
Terror unlike any she had ever known swept through her, her greatest nightmare come to reality. She choked on a sob, and tears soaked the wool covering her face. She swallowed around the gag in her mouth. “Peez! Don do dis!”
He assailant went still for a moment. Gentle fingers touched the moist fabric over her cheekbone. “Shh, Goldilocks, don’t cry. Papa won’t hurt you.”
The rear door beside her slammed, and a cool breeze slipped over her bare shoulders when the driver’s door opened and shut. The kidnapper started the car and drove from the smooth parking lot onto the crunch of the gravel. She tried to track the turns, but the winding country roads leading to the barn made it difficult to discern actual turns versus nothing more than a sharp curve. Deprived of her ability to see, too many sensations pressed in—the itch of the damp wool, the whoosh of blood through her veins accompanied by the thump of her heart, vulnerability, the dizzying rock of the car, and the faint scent of masculine cologne that smelled like Connor’s and made her want to cry for having shoved him away.
Would he blame himself for her rape or…death? He had warned her, had told her the trees held dangers. A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.
There might be bears
—
Suddenly, she collapsed against the seat. Fear lifted.
He wouldn’t have.
But she knew he had. Papa
Bear
wouldn’t hurt Goldilocks.
I’m going to fucking kill him
.
Chapter Four
Connor watched her in the rearview mirror. At first, she sat hunched in on herself, scared, perhaps, but knowing her, trying to track the way to the kidnapper’s lair. He chuckled at the thought of his little Katelyn taking down an assailant and then calling the police while the poor guy searched for his balls.
Trying to watch the road while keeping an eye on his prisoner, he almost missed the shift in her posture, but he couldn’t have missed her angry huff. She figured it out faster than he’d expected, but he was glad she had. She wouldn’t relax and enjoy her fantasy if the fear stayed. Anger he could diffuse, but making Kate genuinely afraid would have destroyed him and ended the game before it began.
“Why so quiet? Contemplating my death?” He deliberately pitched his voice deeper than his natural range, adding a weak attempt at a Russian accent.
“Eat ‘it n die.”
“‘Eat shit and die?’ Now, now, is that any way to talk to a man who holds your life in his hands?”
“Ahh…Conno…et me o!” She stomped her feet in frustration, fighting against her restraints.
He didn’t respond to her plea for freedom. Silence would work her up more than anything else. By the time he parked his car in the garage, she had grown quiet as well. Shoulders stiff. Even her desperate struggles had ceased.
He’d used his tie to hold her hands, his silk handkerchief to gag her. Despite the ski mask hiding her face and pretty blonde hair, she looked helpless, fragile, and feminine. He almost caved and released her…
almost
.
Base urges too long repressed wouldn’t let him walk away until he made her scream in ecstasy. She came alive, twisting and fighting like a wildcat once he removed the seatbelt, but she was no match for years of weight training. Carrying her crushed to his chest, he strode through the kitchen and great room to his bedroom and dropped her on the mattress. He straddled her bucking hips and shoved her arms above her head to knot the tails of his tie to the top rail of the headboard. Once she was secure, he dragged his box of toys from beneath the bed. Many of them he’d bought in response to hints about her secret desires—desires whispered to him over one too many shots.
She jerked at her wrists, screaming through the mask and kicking at his head. Connor stood and threw the spreader bar on the mattress then pinned her legs beneath his hands. “Hold still and cooperate unless you want to be tied face down so I can warm your sweet ass whenever you get out of control.” Bending over her, he pressed his lips near her ear. “Perhaps that’s what you’re hoping for. Do you long to feel the sting of my hand on your beautiful bottom or maybe the snap of a flogger?”
“‘O! ‘et me o!”
“Not until your wildest fantasies come to life.”
She thrashed and bucked beneath him, but when he continued to hold her down, she slowly calmed. He caught the edges of her skirt where it slit up her thigh and ripped the seam open. Once her legs were free, he wrapped one padded leather cuff of the spreader just above her right knee. She went insane, twisting and flailing, until he caught her other leg and buckled the smooth metal bar in place, effectively opening her to his gaze. She could still struggle with her whole lower body, but she would be running nowhere even if her hands came loose.
A damp spot darkened her white lace panties, and he could not resist running a finger up her thigh and over her trembling core. “This is what you want, isn’t it? To be helpless to the demands of a stranger? Unable to allow your strict rules to keep you from experiencing his power?”
Katelyn shook her head in denial, but he didn’t believe her. She told him about her wants whenever she downed too much alcohol for her petite form. Self-denial probably ensured she didn’t remember revealing her secrets.
Still, he wanted to hear her voice so he could listen for the truth. Helping her realize a sexual hunger was one thing. Forcing her into something she didn’t want in reality, entirely another. He dug a mask with an elastic strap from the box and maneuvered it over her head. With a few careful tugs, the ski hat slid away and the blue satin covered her eyes.
She spit out the handkerchief. “Connor—”
He pressed his hand to her mouth. “No one here by that name.” She went still beneath him, and he could feel the edge of fear return. “So who is Connor? A knight in shining armor, perhaps? Someone to rescue you from your make-believe world?”
Her forehead wrinkled above the mask. “Mmm mm mmm!”
His hand muffled her more fully than the handkerchief had. “I’d like to let you go, but I can’t if you’re going to scream and rant.” He nuzzled against the pulse on her throat, nipping the tender flesh there. “You may call me Papa or Papa Bear. Understand?”
“Mmm mmm!”
“You really must stop screaming. The sooner you relax, the sooner I’ll make you purr, little cat.”
Kate shivered. She’d been confident Con was her assailant, but now she wasn’t certain. A false accent failed to hide his golden voice, but he would never speak to her so…not rough…nor harsh…sexually insistent, maybe? More than a handful of men at the wedding, including Connor’s arrogant big brother, had the same rich tone of voice. A giddy wave swept over her, part fear, part forbidden temptation.
Warm lips tickled her ear. “Are you ready to fly?”
Was she?
Oh God, she wanted to.
How had he known the dark dreams that so often woke her in the night, the fear and dread coupled with a need to be treasured no matter how much pain it caused? A sick feeling swelled, but she pushed it away when he slid his free hand down her side to edge beneath the torn fabric of her gown. Long fingers traced her naked flesh from the elastic on her thong to the wide band he’d clamped around her knee. A shiver lifted goose bumps to pebble her skin.
Warm breath brushed her cheek. “If you scream when I take my hand away, I will gag you. Are we clear?”
At her nod, his hand left her mouth. He grabbed her ruined dress and ripped the seam from her hip to her armpit where it caught and held a moment before yielding to his strength. He tossed it aside, leaving her exposed save for her strapless white lace bra and matching underwear—too little covering to hide behind, and she thanked God for the blindfold. What if he didn’t like what he saw?
“Beautiful.” He trailed the back of his knuckles over her skin, tracing the valley between her breasts, downward to explore the dip of her belly button and the finely woven barrier of her thong. Each caress sent tremors chasing quivers until her skin prickled.
She tried to lift toward his touch, but the bindings prevented more than slight or awkward movement. The sensation of helplessness warred with desire. She longed for the strength of a man, but the thought of being unable to stop him should she want to nearly choked her. “Papa Bear, please.”
His hands stilled instantly. Had he heard the fright in her voice? He cleared his throat, then continued his play, exploring the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, easing toward her wet core. “Did you need something?”
“I’m scared.” She had not intended to give him such revealing information, but the confession slipped out.
“I thought you wanted this, a chance to explore your boundaries. No vanilla sex for Goldilocks.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. How do you know what I want?”
His knuckles nudged the lace covering her slit; the dampness there screamed her insane desire. “Your body tells me.” A single finger slipped beneath her thong to part her wet folds, and her hips lifted of their own accord. “I’m in control. No need to fight me because you won’t win. No need to fear me either. If it gets to be too much, more than your greatest fantasy, more than you desire, we’ll move on to something else. All you have to do is ask. I will take silence as consent unless I hear a true protest.”
“And if I want you to stop all together?”
“Ahh, now what fun is that? Some things are too hot, some too cold, others are just right. How will you know if you don’t try?” Strong fingers slipped beneath the sides of her underwear and tugged them down to her widespread knees. Her pussy clenched as he trailed his fingertips upward to circle the evidence of desire.
“Give me an out. Please, Papa Bear.”
Warm lips grazed her forehead and his hands stilled. “All right. If things become too much, just say red light, and I’ll bundle you up and take you home where you’ll be safe and warm and…bored shitless.”
“Thank you.” Her heart bounced, a frightened rabbit in a snare, but the rest of her screamed for him to continue his delicious torture. It had to be Connor touching her, but the restraints and mask enabled her to pretend it was someone else. Giving in to such hedonistic desires wouldn’t really destroy their friendship. She could deny it all in the morning. They could go on like it never happened.
His fingers trailed over her folds, one long digit slipping barely inside to stroke the sensitive nerves. “What kinds of orgasm have you experienced, little cat?”
She blushed, the blood warming her cheeks. “Ordinary ones.” Despite her short skirts and the stories she told Savannah to make her laugh or relax or whatever, when it came to sex, she was mostly talk. Imagination and masturbation wouldn’t destroy her self-respect.
His deep chuckle comforted her. “For me, you will come again and again, in any way I choose to allow.”
What the hell did he mean? He couldn’t make her do anything, could he? His weight lifted from the bed, and she heard the thump and rattle of unknown objects in what sounded like a wooden chest. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Worship you.”
The simple promise rocked through her, her pulse thundered in her veins, heating her skin. The mattress dipped beneath his weight when he climbed onto the bed. She bit her lip to muffle the eager cries building in her throat. He settled between her ankles, then lifted her widespread knees and dropped the bar over his shoulders. She used her feet to explore the hard muscles of his sides and back until he bent his head to whisper kisses over her slit. His tongue slipped inside, enough to tease…no more.
She jerked against her bindings, but they did not budge. Firm hands slid beneath her ass and lifted her to his mouth. His long, talented tongue dipped and stroked, lapped and swirled, driving her toward the precipice. When his lips closed over her clit and he sucked hard, launching her outside of her body, she could not hold back a scream of ecstasy. Still, he did not back off, licking and sucking her upward only to toss her over again and again.
The scream faded to a pleading whimper. Her body shuddered and quaked beneath his magic mouth. “No…no more…please.”
He backed off immediately, stretching her legs out and soothing her trembling muscles with his warm palms. “Shh.” He lay beside her and cuddled her close. “That’s one.”
“One? Are you kidding me?”
His deep chuckle rumbled over her. “I promised all kinds.”