His Cinderella: A Possessive Dark Romance (Mayhem Ever After Book 3) Read online

  I set the bottle down, having forgotten I even held it. The resounding clunk of glass on marble echoed in the room, easily drowning out the dull thud of bass shivering the floor beneath our feet. She started a bit at the sound, azure gaze flashing my way for the briefest of moments.

  I walked over to her with slow, deliberate strides. She did not react as I walked a complete circle around her trembling body, admiring her curves, so evident in the slip of a blue dress which shrouded her form.

  At last, I came to a halt right before her, my face inches from her own. Blonde bangs tickled my forehead as she kept her head bowed.

  “Look at me, Ella.” I was surprised that my voice came out as a dry-throated croak. Still, she obeyed, lifting her gaze to meet my own. My breath caught because I’d ached for so long to gaze into those eyes again. How often had I fantasized of this moment? A chance meeting in a café, a stage production, or a garden party.

  But not like this. This should have been better. After all, she was utterly at my mercy. Without knowing why, it wasn’t better, and I felt myself growing angry.

  “It’s been a long time, Ella,” I murmured.

  “Yes,” she replied, her tone and manner stiff as a board. “I guess you own me now.”

  She cast her gaze to the side and let out a nervous laugh. It was something I recalled her doing when we were young and carefree and in love, a gesture hiding the fact that she really wanted to sob. Ella wanted to cry because the idea of being owned by me was so terrible.

  “Yes,” I hissed. “I do. You do belong to me now, Ella.”

  I grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. Her blood pulsed a fraction of an inch beneath my thumb and fingers, invoking a heady rush of power. Ella was mine. Mine to do with whatever I wanted.

  It may not have been the romantic reunion I’d hoped for or dreamed of, but it would have to do.

  “I guess you get the last laugh,” she replied bitterly, her voice raspy from my grip.

  “I’m not laughing,” I countered. “Do I look amused?”

  “No.” She relaxed in my grip, her eyes glistening in the low light. “You look angry. Are you going to hurt me, Deryk?”

  In response, I loosened my grip a bit, unable to speak. I considered her for a long moment, during which she broke the ensuing silence.

  “I would have thought your first order of business would be to punish me for leaving you.”

  “You think you deserve punishment?” I tightened my hand again. I drew her lithe body against my own, savoring its familiar, yet novel feel.

  “What I think is irrelevant,” she gasped. “You own me. Remember? It’s up to you, not me, if I deserve to suffer or not.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” I snapped, shoving her away from me.

  Ella’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Why you arranged this stupid auction as an excuse to get back into my life?”

  “I had no idea you were going to be here until the second you walked out of that door,” I informed her.

  “Bullshit,” Ella snapped.

  “No, it’s the truth,” I said. “Look into my eyes, Ella. You know I’ve never been able to lie to you.”

  For a moment, Ella relaxed, a hint of a smile forming at the familiar curves of her lips. “Yeah, it’s always been one of your more endearing traits. For a mobster, you sure are a terrible liar.”

  “I’m not a mobster and I don’t know anyone who is,” I said robotically, as if I’d been conditioned to say the words. Because I had.

  “Oh please. You see? You’re lying. I can tell. You know I can tell, but you do it anyway. This is why I left.”

  “Well, you won’t be leaving now. Will you?” I snapped. “Do you believe me or not?”

  “I believe you didn’t know I would be here, sure,” Ella replied. “But do I believe that you and your ‘firm’ aren’t organized criminals? Nope. Not for a second.”

  “Have it your way.” I turned away from her, my hands clenching into fists.

  “No, have it your way,” she taunted from behind me. “I belong to you. Remember? But you’re just standing around, hemming and hawing like you did at prep school.”

  “Shut up, Ella,” I snapped, still not facing her.

  “The great Deryk Mayne, scion of the Mayhem Brothers, pissing his pants stuttering out bad nineteenth-century poetry all so he can try and get into my panties. You were pathetic then, and you’re pathetic now.” Her words stung me deeply, and I curled in on myself, shoulders slumping as she laughed mercilessly. “All those years you’ve carried a torch for me, but you could never have me.”

  “Shut up, Ella,” I said in a guttural tone.

  “Well, now you’ve got me,” she said, as if I had not spoken at all. “The only way you possibly could have—buying me when I’m at my lowest, weakest moment. Taking advantage of my rotten fortune. But now that you’ve got me, all you can do is stand there and stare or choke me. You can’t do what you really have wanted to do all this time.”

  “How do you know what I want?” I blurted, moving close to her.

  “Oh, honey,” she said with a mocking grin, “I always knew what you wanted. But you never got it. Did you? Some other man got my virginity, and you missed out.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I growled, looming over her.

  “You’re too late, Deryk. For once, the Mayne family lost, to some drunk guy on Padre Island whose face and name I don’t even remember. So, go ahead, if you want damaged goods, take what you want from me.”

  The pathos of her confession struck me deeply, taking the strength from my legs and the wind from my lungs. All I could do was stand there in confusion. I didn’t know if I should be, or was, angry with her or not. I only knew I wanted her madly, truly, desperately.

  I grabbed her around the waist and drew her in tightly to me. She tried to struggle, but I clenched my hand more tightly, my fingers digging into her supple flesh.

  “Hold still,” I growled. “You belong to me. I have a right to inspect my merchandise.”

  “You’re a bastard,” she snapped.

  I clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing her soft lips under my palm, and stared her right in the eye. “You’ll speak when spoken to, understand? You’re mine, and I’m going to train you to obey. Now hold still.”

  Thus began my inspection of Ella Ashmore, the one that got away. Now helpless in the palm of my hand.

  Chapter Six

  Deryk moved in close, hemming me in with his body. His presence loomed over me, the stench of his potent, hauntingly familiar cologne stinging my nostrils. I took a reflexive step back, and his stoic face wrinkled into a sneer.

  “Hold still,” he snapped, his hand going to my throat again. His palm slipped up and around, caressing my jaw and cheek with a gentleness that surprised me. But then his fingers slid behind my head and knotted my hair into a tight grip. I gasped at the pain in my scalp as he tugged hard on my mane.

  “What are you doing?” I blurted, the mark of fear heavy in my words. Deryk’s steely gaze darted to my face for a moment before it dropped to my chest.

  “Inspecting my property,” he growled in a voice barely above a whisper. I shuddered but otherwise held still as his fingers swept down the curve of my shoulders to the blue satin dress. He gently rolled it down, exposing me by inches.

  I whimpered at his tight grip and the humiliation of his slow undressing, which he accomplished with both hands and gaze. The fabric tugged down a bit farther, just enough to make out the pink swollen edges of my nipples.

  Deryk paused, moving his lips in to brush my neck. I arched my head back, my body clasping to him with sudden urgency. My mind couldn’t decide how it felt, but clearly my body missed Deryk terribly.

  I moved to kiss his lips, but his firm grip on my hair wouldn’t allow the change. He growled in my face, biting his lower lip before returning to his earlier task. I shuddered as he ran a finger between my cleavage and then h
ooked it on the already precariously balanced dress.

  A moan forced its way out of my throat as he yanked the dress down and exposed my breasts. Instinctively, my arms moved up to cover my nakedness, but Deryk grasped my wrists tightly and then firmly moved my arms back to my sides.

  “If you can’t hold still, I’m going to tie you.”

  My eyes closed most of the way, and the soft gasp that escaped my lips had nothing to do with fear. Deryk gave me one last hard glare before releasing my wrists. His hands moved up with slow, deliberate purpose to cup my breasts. I groaned as he roughly fondled me, moving my pliant breasts about to suit his whims. Deryk’s fingertips were like iron spikes as they dug into my soft flesh, but I did my best not to move, whether his touches elicited pain or sublime pleasure.

  “You’re enjoying this. Aren’t you?” He trapped my hardening nipple between thumb and forefinger. “Answer me.”

  He reached up and tugged on my hair a bit harder than before. So, I answered him, tears forming at the corners of my eyes from the strain on my scalp. “No,” I lied.

  “Really?” he asked, stretching my nipple out like well-chewed bubble gum. “Your mouth says no, but your body tells me a different story. Now that you’re my property, you’re going to have to learn not to fear your own responses so much.”

  I flinched a bit when he used the words “my property,” something which did not go unnoticed by Deryk.

  “You don’t like hearing that. Do you?” he taunted. “You don’t like hearing me say you belong to me.”

  “Please, don’t,” I gasped.

  “Don’t what?” He released my hair and my nipple, taking a step back from my half-dressed form.

  “Don’t say things like that,” I mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. I stared downward, which forced me to look at my bare breasts and recall the way he had touched me.

  “Why not?” he asked softly, moving in and tugging at the half-removed dress.

  “It makes me feel…” I gasped as he moved the dress down over the slope of my hips. My navel was then exposed, with only a few inches to go before my most taboo place of all would be open to his gaze.

  “Makes you feel what?” he taunted.

  “Dirty,” I finished in a whisper as he pulled the dress all the way down, dropping to one knee to finish the job of tugging it off. I stepped out of the flexible tube at his behest, my hands turning traitor. I told myself to hold still, but my hands crossed in front of my now exposed mons as if of their own accord.

  “Move your hands,” he said firmly. “No part of your body is off limits to me.”

  When I failed to move, he sighed and rose swiftly to his feet. I stood there shivering, though the room was not cold, my hands clenched into fists in front of my body. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t expose myself to him.

  I heard his footsteps receding behind me and then the opening of a drawer. He came up behind me, close enough his warm breath fell on my bare shoulder.

  I groaned when he reached around my body as if to embrace me, pull me into his warmth. But he took my wrists and insistently pulled.

  “Give me your hands, Ella,” he commanded. “You were told what the consequences would be. You called the tune. Now pay the piper.”

  Reluctantly, I allowed him to pull my hands away from covering my groin. The fact that he was behind me, unable to see between my legs, probably helped a little. Deryk tugged my hands fully behind my back and then crossed my wrists. My heart beat faster when the first silken coil slid around my skin.

  “If you can’t keep your hands out of trouble, I have ways of helping you,” he said as he tied off the bonds. I tugged in a furtive experiment but found no give in the fibrous strands.

  Deryk moved back around my front, eliciting a moment of sheer panic when I realized he would now be able to see everything, with me unable to guard my body from his gaze.

  My body acted to protect itself. I squeezed my thighs together tightly and bent at the waist in an effort to avoid his gaze.

  Deryk took my hair again and roughly pulled me backward in stumbling, wild steps until the backs of my knees hit the hard, wooden edge of a chair. I plopped down heavily into the seat, staring up at Deryk with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

  “Stop fighting me, Ella,” he released in a low growl. His hands gripped the tops of my knees, and I knew what was coming. I turned my head to the side as he forcibly jerked my knees apart, exposing my pussy to him at last. I felt his hot breath blow over my skin as he moved in for a very close inspection.

  “Look at me, Ella,” he demanded, voice firm.

  I turned my head back and then forced my eyes open. I looked down at him crouching before the chair with a half-lidded gaze, hating the way my nether lips throbbed and swelled under his scrutiny. Our eyes met, and then his gaze dropped down to my wide-open snatch.

  The sight of him nearly overcome by lust as he stared boldly at my exposed body stirred something in me, something primal and deep. I enjoyed the way he drank in the sight of me, and relaxed in my bonds, my throne of degradation. After all, it was out of my hands, quite literally. Nothing that happened now was my fault.

  “I was hoping to finally discover whether the carpet matched the drapes,” Deryk said with a chuckle. “But it looks like hardwood floors in here.”

  My naked skin purpled with shame, but I forced my trembling legs to remain apart. If this was a test, I intended to pass.

  “I look forward to taming you,” he said, rising to his feet. He took my chin in his hand, lifting my gaze to meet his. “It’s time for us to go.”

  “Go?” I asked as he extracted a cell phone from his pocket. “Go where?”

  “To my palace,” he answered cryptically. Then his eyes grew distant as someone answered on the other end of his call. “Hey, Jimmy? I’m going to be caught up here for a minute. Can you run down the block and get us some of those Philly Cheesesteaks for a snack? Oh, are those your favorite? I had no idea.”

  He ended the call and then made another immediately, ignoring my requests for an answer.

  “Bring the car around back and take the long way. Yes, we’re ditching the Bull. I know. I’ll take the heat. Okay. See you soon.”

  “Who’s the Bull and why are we ditching him?” I asked matter-of-factly, trying to pretend I wasn’t naked, with my hands tied behind my back, at the mercy of the man who had just bought me. Who was a vengeful jilted ex to boot. Couldn’t have called this one when I graduated prep school.

  “None of your business.” He snapped his fingers. “Up.”

  With difficulty, I rose from the chair and stood on unsteady legs. Deryk took his gray Armani overcoat off the bar and strode over to me, holding the garment out. I arched my brows at him in surprise when he draped it over my bare shoulders, hiding my bound hands.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he tugged the two halves of the coat closed and began to button it shut. The smooth, silky fabric felt good against my bare skin, but I was a little trepidatious about his intentions.

  “You can’t walk through the club and to the car naked,” he said simply.

  “But—but,” I said, lifting my bound hands enough that the coat rose up in back.

  “Just walk slowly, and if you start to lose your balance, lean into me.” He slipped an arm around my shoulder and led me out of the VIP lounge and carefully down the stairs. All around us patrons swirled and danced and drank and laughed, oblivious to my plight. We were halfway across the dance floor before I realized that all my clothing, not to mention my carry-on bag, were upstairs.

  “I forgot my things,” I said.

  “I’ll have them brought to us,” he answered smoothly. “Don’t worry about things like that any longer. You only need to worry about how to please me.”

  “Is that so, Deryk?” I asked bitterly as we stepped onto the sidewalk in front of his stretched SUV limousine.

  His hand snapped up and grabbed my neck tightly. Deryk dragged me in close as I struggled to keep
my balance with my hands tied behind me.

  “First lesson. Don’t call me Deryk. Call me ‘sir.’ Understand?”

  I glared at him and remained silent. He tightened his grip enough that I could feel my blood labor to pass through the compressed arteries.

  “Understand?” he prompted again.

  “Yes, sir,” I gasped.

  Deryk released my neck and opened the rear door of the limo. “Get in.”

  He assisted me in keeping my balance as I entered the rear of the limo and slid onto the soft leather seat. Deryk came in behind me, closing the door in his wake.

  “The woodland retreat, Vic,” Deryk said.

  “Very good, sir,” the elderly driver said. Deryk rolled up the metal privacy barrier, sealing us into our private abode. Or tomb.

  Deryk moved to unbutton the jacket, exposing me once again.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. “What’s the woodland retreat? I can’t sleep in a tent. I’ve tried.”

  “I told you not to worry.” Deryk reached into his pocket. He withdrew a red silk handkerchief and folded it over twice the long way. “Hold still.”

  My heart beat faster as he used the cloth to blindfold me, tying it snugly behind my head. A few hairs got trapped in the knot, and they tugged painfully with every move I made.

  We drove for some time, and while I couldn’t see, it was easy to tell when we passed out of the city and onto the highway by the lack of stopping and going. We cruised along for a while, my anxiety growing worse with each passing moment. I shifted on the seat, tugging weakly at my bonds. The knots weren’t cruelly tight. I wasn’t even that uncomfortable, but it was a reminder of how much I truly was at Deryk’s mercy.

  “I bet you’ve been waiting a long time for this,” I said suddenly, when the silence grew unbearable.