Takeover: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Book 1) Page 17
Rape. Mate. Breed.
All animalistic urges. Nothing sensitive. Nothing sweet. Nothing for my benefit except the pleasure of being used, fucked, and taken by a man for his ultimate intentions.
I had to tell him.
Before this went any farther. Before someone realized the truth.
Before they realized no matter the pleasure, no matter the restraints, no matter the dangerous attraction, I was still in control.
I had to tell him.
I had to stop this.
I had to…
Nicholas leaned over me, positioning the thick head of his cock against my quivering slit.
He wasn’t going to stop now.
No matter what I said or what I revealed.
I shut my mouth and wrapped my hands around the restraints’ chains.
“Submit,” he whispered. “Do you trust me?”
“No.” Every word wavered. “Can you trust me?”
“What’s not to trust?”
“Everything.”
“You are a risk worth taking.” He studied my body, how my hips arched to meet his, how his cock pushed against my glistening slit. “And I will take you, Sarah. Again and again until I’m certain you’ll forever belong to me.”
He pushed forward, capturing my shock with a kiss as forceful as his thrust.
I expected pain.
I expected humiliation.
I expected ruin, sorrow, and loss.
His eyes widened, the golden softness as much a gift as his thick arms protecting me from the world. He filled me too suddenly, and I cried out. But the sting of my virginity wasn’t stolen in a violent act of cruelty.
He claimed me.
And…I claimed him.
Our bodies melded, combined, and locked in a sudden and shared passion so consuming I stopped breathing, he stilled, and we shared an absolute shudder of peace.
No more fighting. No battles. My body surrendered while his protected. My heat welcomed him. His thickness commanded me.
He stole me, but nothing about the ravishing heat frightened me. The blooming pleasure overwhelmed the quick slice that assaulted my virginity. His movements tested me, and my gratitude lashed over him as though I held the belt and struck his sensitive and wanting skin.
Another movement. Another sigh. Another wave of acceptance.
“Please.” I whispered, but this time, I didn’t beg for my freedom. “Please.”
“A cry for mercy?” His words rasped with a waning control.
“Don’t you dare take mercy on me, Nicholas Bennett.”
“I never intended to.”
His kiss silenced my whimpers, my thoughts, and my fading control.
His cock stirred within me—deeper than I ever imagined I could be taken. My legs wrapped over his hips. He seized everything I gave and demanded whatever I dared to hide.
His muscles strained. His forearms flexed as he dug his fingers into the mattress. He stared at my helpless form, bouncing against the blankets and nearly breaking for more of his godly torment.
How did something so vulgar become so beautiful?
Passion and desire destroyed everything ugly and banished whatever fear I possessed.
I lied to him.
He asked if I trusted him.
The answer was yes. With everything. With my body. My pleasure. The imprisonment. His advice. I trusted him to keep me safe. To fill me with the courage I lost combating his father and to reassure me with pleasure when the restraints stole my strength.
He hadn’t released me. I became his own personal deviancy as he thrust again and again within my clenching core.
He fucked me.
He took me.
He’d try to breed me.
I didn’t understand the carnal need, but I understood a man like Nicholas. He was unchallenged, dominating his opponents through sheer strength of will. This time, I was the opponent. He fucked me with a bare cock and planned to seed me if only to defy the world and claim me for his own.
I had to tell him.
He kissed me again, and the secret was buried.
We tightened together. My hands curled into fists, tugging at the restraints, demanding to touch and hold and imbed myself upon the man who controlled me. He sunk us deeper into the bed. His body pounded against mine in a blind fury of passion.
My surrender ripped through me.
The cresting intensity rushed with such ferocity I feared the crumbling, aching crush of my body. I gave him everything in a moment, a single blistering fraction of time that darkened the world and captured me within the golden hush of his possession. Nothing prevented it. Nothing prepared me for it.
I came, and Nicholas’s growl would have shaken the foundation of the estate, crumbling the brick and mortar I’d threatened.
I offered more of my hips, of my tightness, of my taken virginity, and he lost himself in me.
A heat splashed inside me, filling me, coating me, jetting deeper and deeper as Nicholas buried himself as completely as he could. Body against body, skin flushed against skin. I arched and gasped, losing my breath and not caring if it ever returned.
I cried out just as the Bennetts expected, but only Nicholas’s name passed beyond my lips, as secret as a kiss and as forsaken as my pride.
Oh, God.
He had come inside me.
And my pleasure rippled as I clenched against the utter dominance of my body.
My frantic breathing and rolling shudders frightened me. He flicked his fingers through the restraints to release me from the bindings.
As if he thought I’d run, he captured me in his arms. We sunk into the bed, entwined in a kiss and sweaty from a coupling that had been the most terrifying and amazing experience of my life. I clung to him, staring into his amber, flashing eyes with no fear, no hostility, and no cowering plea ever to escape his arms.
He said nothing but tucked me onto my side, pulling the comforter up to cover my nudity. He laid beside me in silence. Cradling me. Soothing me. Soothing himself.
He thought I’d be shocked. Devastated. Frightened by the seed tucked in my belly and the implications of his mounting.
I sighed into the pillows as his finger traced a delicate path over skin that needed something rougher and more demanding than gentleness.
I wasn’t frightened.
I feared nothing, not now that I understood how strongly I could submit, and just how much power I held over the men who presumed to own me.
I had lost the battle. Unequivocally. Almost intentionally.
But Nicholas Bennett?
He lost the war.
Sarah Atwood slept in my arms.
Soundless. Peaceful. Tamed, for once in her life.
It took every reserve of my patience and strength to break her without losing her. I shouldn’t have held back.
She defeated me first.
I counted the easy breaths which passed through her lips, puffy and pink. They had yet to curl into a smile for me. She sated my lust, and fucking her fulfilled my primal urges in a single moment of unrepentant and bountiful bliss. But I wasn’t satisfied.
I wanted her smile.
I wanted her trust.
I wanted her to understand.
I wasn’t an unreasonable man. Selfish, but not a fool. The girl hadn’t believed I would bed her, even after my father abused, terrorized, and humiliated her.
But I never doubted for a second that I would take her. I tied her down and took her virginity. Her first taste of passion, and she struggled against leather wrist cuffs. I spread her legs, but her surrender was as elusive as whatever secrets she hid from me.
Her body complied. Her words admitted her place. But her mind? She was stronger than I anticipated, more beautiful than I imagined, and fiercer than any I’d ever encountered.
And so I held my step-sister down, fucked her like a ravaging animal, and filled her with my every intent to breed her with my child.
Then she slept in my arms.
The sun had yet to rise. I preferred the darkness, but Sarah’s pale blonde hair acted as the only bright and wholesome revelation in the room. How innocent could one woman be?
I stirred. As much as I longed to remain pressed inside her for the night, I had untied her. I kissed her without the cuffs and held her secure, offering her safety while my mind raged with the conquering, masculine high of chaotic pleasure.
I meant to protect and comfort her. And yet, I kept her still so she wouldn’t spill my seed by escaping the bed.
Just the thought hardened me.
She called me cruel.
I believed her.
She labeled me a demon.
What defense could I give?
She claimed she didn’t trust me.
She lied.
How many times would I be forced to destroy her innocence?
She wiggled. The greatest and worst temptation in my world cuddled against me. During the taking, I’d gripped the mattress instead of her, fearing the severity of my lust. In the predawn darkness, the absolute stillness of secret between night and day, a delicate and fierce woman rested in my grasp. I’d already stolen her once.
Tasted. Claimed. Seeded.
One crime committed, another tempted.
My hand wove over her hip. She sighed. My fingers teased for warmth in the cradle between her legs. Her hips edged closer. I flicked my finger against her clit, reveling in the slickness I left within her.
Sarah mewed.
It was the only sound I craved.
The tip of my finger traced a tiny circle. She panted awake, but my strength pinned her between my chest, hardening cock, and teasing touch. I’d offer her such a reward for just a moment of obedience.
Her hand gripped my wrist. I didn’t let her push me away. Another few circles and she fell limp. Those perfect lips parted once more. She breathed my name. It was the only word that rivaled the simple thrill of her protests.
I nibbled her ear and she rewarded me with a sweet shiver. “Tell me how this feels.”
“Invasive.”
I chuckled. “It’s soft, Sarah. Warm and wet.”
Her words wavered. “Haven’t you tormented me enough?”
“Never. You enjoy the torment too much.”
Her wetness betrayed her. My cock throbbed for a taste of her. I’d take anything that would ease the rage in me, pacify my need, and silence the demon that demanded another cruel claiming.
But I doubted anything could quell that dark instinct. A raw passion burned my veins and blinded me to everything humane and respectable.
I angled her hips against me. Her words silenced as the head of my cock pushed once more into her tender, inexperienced body. Too weak to deny me and too slick to prevent me, I thrust. The violation shocked her. She tensed, gripping my hands, holding her breath, fluttering with a rabid pulse that tickled against my chest,
I pushed.
She shuddered in a soundless wave of pleasure.
And I had her once again. The tightness fractured me, crumbling away my honor and searing me with the savage determination.
“You will be mine,” I whispered, as if she had any doubt. “From this moment. You belong only to me. Your body. Your pleasure.” I tested her, watching as she pawed against the thickness spreading her apart. “Everything you are will be mine.”
Her nails sunk into my arms. “You’ll never have all of me.”
“You can’t fight me.”
“I’m not,” She whispered through threaded gasps. “You’ve captured me. You’ve won all you can. But it was never a fair game, Nicholas.”
“I decide what’s fair.” My teeth pinched against her neck. “And I decide the rules.”
“Not this time.”
“Always. From this moment on.”
I thrust harder. She accepted me. Her chest puffed in excitement. Her perfect breasts, kissed with the delicate raspberry buds, captured in my hand. She whimpered and tightened around me, and the pleasure rolled from the base of my spine. I blinded myself to everything but her. I lusted for her innocence and softness, and I took the petite wisp of her body and every feminine curve that made her irresistible.
And still, the agonizing realization stalked me. No matter how hard I fucked her, how firmly I held her, or how many demands I forced on her, Sarah Atwood was stronger than I expected.
Her submission came naturally, but I’d never break her.
I no longer wanted to break her.
Her panting desperation twisted my control. She arched against me, and I slammed as deeply as my cock would fit.
My orgasm shadowed hers.
I grunted and emptied myself in her, again and again. She squeezed me and came. Her pussy milked my throbbing cock, greedily accepting my seed into her core.
Nothing compared. Years of self-sacrifice and protection to ensure the Bennett line wasn’t tarnished by whatever woman happened across my path, and now? I released inside Sarah, perfect and tantalizing.
It was a shame she didn’t want it.
A crime that I did it.
And a crisis of conscience that I felt no remorse in satisfying my desire.
Her panted breaths ended with a cough. The sound stilled my heart.
I pulled from Sarah before she was ready, and her soft, protesting murmur refueled my passion. I ignored my unrelenting hardness and stood, rifling through the pocket of my suit jacket. Her inhaler tucked safe inside, hidden from her provided she asked politely, sweetly, and obediently for the right to breathe.
My father’s wishes disgusted me. I handed her the inhaler. She hesitantly took the medication.
Sarah said nothing, watching as I collected myself and disguised my evil in the civilized suit and coat. Her cheeks flushed as she tucked the blanket along her body. She acted as though I hadn’t memorized every last inch of her slim form.
“How long do you think you can keep me here, Nicholas?” Her voice softened, heavy with satisfaction. “How long will you hide me away and tie me to beds and take me?”
“Forever.”
“You know that isn’t true.”
“I’ll make it so.”
She bit her lip. “You can’t keep me captive, and you can’t keep me from finding your family’s crimes. This won’t last.”
The only crime my family committed rested within the bed, seeded with my lust. But Sarah was right. It wouldn’t last. Sooner or later she’d understand the truth about her father, the dire circumstance of her position, and how dangerous her life had become.
So I’d keep her tucked away. Hidden from the world. Protected from my family.
Sated with my cock.
“Sarah Atwood, I’ve decided no one else will touch you.”
Her amusement was a bluff of hope. “Darius already decided everything about my fate. I was yours last night. He’ll feed me to Max today. He’ll make Reed take me tomorrow.” Her voice lowered. “Strategic concessions? You had your turn.”
The fury billowed within me, a hot rage of jealousy I had no right to experience for my family’s prisoner. I ground my jaw.
“I’m the heir to the Bennett fortune. This estate. The company. The family—and everything in it—belongs to me. That includes you.” I paused. “Behave yourself, be respectful. Act obedient for once, and I will rectify this.”
“Why?”
The stirring returned. It wouldn’t be controlled, and I’d never explain it. Instinct and logic warred within me, and the animalistic passion mauled every bit of humanity away.
“Because the child you’ll carry will be mine. I’ll have my fortune, my company, and you for my pleasure.”
Now I earned her smile, but the sweetness wasn’t meant for me.
“You are a Bennett. You’ve stolen, beaten, and broken every piece of land, every company, and every person you’ve ever wanted. No one has ever defeated you.
No one has ever stopped you.” She had my attention. “Until me.”
“A challenge, Ms. Atwood?”
“You’re no challenge to me.”
“Will you wait here, or should I restrain you again?”
She snuggled in the blankets, matching my need heartbeat for heartbeat. “I’m your captive, trapped in this home. What harm could I possibly do?”
Entirely too much in the opinion of my father.
I said nothing but returned to my room, showered, shaved, and dressed as though I were a successful businessman and not a prowling creature of the night.
Sarah was a problem. Her words and defiance entertained me, but it would enrage my father—and I wouldn’t be able to protect her from his retaliation. He threatened her, promised that my brothers and I would rape and impregnate her, and I saw it in her eyes.
Fear.
My father offered a woman to us, and she became a perverted family secret that would topple the entire Bennett Corporation. When marrying into the Atwoods didn’t secure his fortune, he exploited his step-daughter, a girl he neither loved nor pitied. Provided she breathed—provided she told us when she couldn’t breathe—he’d be satisfied. But given the option, Sarah Atwood would be beaten and starved, raped and tortured, stored in the dark and left to conceive in utter misery.
I’d never let it happen.
My father awaited me in his office. Seven o’clock, not a minute late, as he rigorously cropped into my hide as a child. I settled across from his desk. He scowled at his email, but spared a moment to meet my gaze.
Nothing but cruelty existed within his presence. His was a hardness he taught me to mimic, something to replicate and pass on. If we succeeded, the Atwood-Bennett heir would no doubt encompass every lesson, every beating, every brutal warning we endured as children. When to speak. When to act. When to think.
And, above all else, to obey him without question.
“Is it done?” He asked.
I nodded.
His excitement crawled upon my skin. “Did she bleed?”
“She was a virgin.”
“Was she behaved?”
The memory teased me with a warmth forbidden within my father’s office. Despite the fireplace and windows, the room maintained a perpetual frost, as if the poison of our company’s products sliced through those uninitiated to his pestilence.