Irrevocable: A Sins of Ashville Abduction Dark Romance (Irrevocable Duet Book 1) Read online

  Even if I had just pissed him off.

  As I stumbled away from the opening door, the dark-skinned man caught me and shoved me into the wall.

  “She is a nice addition to the collection.”

  “Please,” I cried, knowing it was useless that anyone around here would care about my requests. I had nothing to bargain with that they wouldn’t take by force either way. Large hands pawed at me, effortlessly blocking all of my attempts at fighting back. His forearms were so big I wasn’t sure my fingers could even wrap half way around.

  His large forearm pressed against my neck, threatening to cut off my airway if he pressed just a bit harder, his hip immobilized my body, and he twisted so that one bent knee rested across my legs, preventing me from kneeing or kicking him.

  He’d obviously done this before. And the position left his other hand free to grope my naked body. I tried to shove his bulky hand away and he pressed harder against my throat.

  My body bucked and jerked, craving more oxygen than it could get through my pinched throat.

  “Behave,” he growled.

  I pushed my strength into the wall, forcing my body to stop fighting him, and he released my throat.

  “I’ll have a turn,” said the blond man from the other side of the hall. He leaned casually against the wall, watching my attack.

  One hallway and I was already up against three men.

  There was no way in hell I’d ever make it nine floors down and out of the lobby. I had to bide my time. Find a back way or some path that wouldn’t cross with half a dozen men on the way out.

  That depended on my ability to survive long enough. Survival, I thought. If I had anything on my side, it was obstinacy—sometimes blind obstinacy that got me in deeper, but I didn’t go out without a fight. The problem was that here, the fighting, kicking, and screaming that I wanted to do was going to get me killed.

  Or worse.

  The third man took another step toward us, and my chest shook until I had to close my eyes and remind myself how to breathe. I was pinned and struggling only made me more exhausted.

  “Want to play?” The dark-skinned man pulled me from the wall, moving me to stand in the middle of the group. He held me against his body with his arm around my neck while his other hand trailed down my naked sternum, over my bellybutton—

  My hands were free but tightened into useless fists at my sides. I was more afraid of what would happen if I fought. Tears burned at my eyes as my body shivered. No matter what I did—if I fought, if I gave in—the pain was going to come.

  His hand moved between my legs, and he smacked my inner thigh, forcing them apart. I bit back a scream and pulled my lower lip between my teeth to keep my mouth closed.

  “Go ahead and scream,” Kirk said. His arms were crossed over his chest. This was my punishment, he’d let whoever showed up do whatever they wanted to me. “Maybe you can get the attention of all the other men on this floor.”

  “And the one below,” the one holding me said and chuckled.

  The third man who had been mostly silent rubbed at his own growing erection through his pants.

  My vision darkened, but I held on to one last hope. Maybe I could at least delay the inevitable. As the grasp around my neck loosened, I grabbed at my last chance, throwing myself at Kirk’s feet.

  “Please, I’ll do what you want.” The operative word being ‘you’. One man I could possibly handle. Three would leave me ripped apart—body and soul.

  I expected the other two men to grab me. To drag me back into the middle of the hallway and have their way, but everyone went still.

  Horrifyingly still.

  I kept my head down, my fingers wrapped in the hem of his dark jeans. I waited for the order. Waited for him to tell them to haul me off and give them the go ahead to rip me apart.

  But he crouched in front of me, snapping my head back with a fistful of my hair. “You wanted out.”

  “No. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have.” The only way you survive is if he keeps you. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was better than the alternative. One quiet piranha was better than an entire lake full.

  He yanked and twisted me before releasing my hair, and I toppled to the floor on my side. My arm and hip burned from rubbing against the carpet, but my attention to the pain was quickly replaced, by the images flashing through my mind. Laying sprawled on the floor with three men glaring down at me was too similar to waking up in the basement.

  There were fewer men, but now I was completely naked. Exposed for them to do as they pleased. A new wave of nausea pounded at my gut and it took some effort to swallow it down. Pulling myself back to my knees, I grasped at Kirk’s leg.

  Just take me back in the apartment. Please. My mind begged, shouting the words, that wouldn’t break free from my mouth.

  A foot against my ass knocked me forward into Kirk’s legs.

  They snickered and jeered as I tried to regain my balance.

  I was nothing to them.

  Just a toy, like Suit said. And they were like a bunch of bratty rich kids who knew that every toy was replaceable.

  My sobs vibrated through my chest, but not a single tear came. My gaze fluttered up to meet Kirk’s.

  “Please,” I whispered through my tight throat.

  As I pulled myself to my knees, the muscular arm of the man behind me tightened around my throat again, pulling me backward as he lowered his mouth to my ear. “I think you’ll have to do better than that if you want your Master to keep you. But if you like, we can find you different accommodations.”

  He pinched my nipple, then rubbed his palm over it and gave my breast a hard squeeze. The blond who’d been waiting for a turn cleared his throat, and Kirk shot him a scowling glance waving him off.

  It was my first bit of hope. Maybe Kirk wouldn’t throw me to any of the others.

  “I am sorry,” my voice cracked.

  The arm tightened around my neck, then released again. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the man holding me had stepped off the elevator while I was in the hallway and proceeded to play into Kirk’s interest.

  “I’m sorry, M-Master.” I was on my knees begging the man who saved me from the kidnappers to keep me captive. My brain tried futilely to come up with another solution, weighing how many people in this building could be like Kirk, against how many could be like Gabe. “Please, let me stay with you, Master.”

  Kirk flipped his hand at the man behind me, and I was released. Not even my pulse pounding through my veins was enough to make me feel alive. I was a pile of flesh and bone that happened to have a heartbeat.

  Kirk pulled me to my feet then shoved me through the open door to his apartment. I landed on my hands and knees, adding another set of carpet burns to my list of injuries. Then, a stinging impact came across my ass. I bit my bottom lip to keep in the scream and scurried farther into the apartment.

  After a second, the door slammed behind me and an arm came around my stomach lifting me up and carrying me under his arm into the bathroom. “I don’t have time for this shit. If you want to live, don’t be an idiot and we’ll get along fine.”

  He turned on the shower then dropped me to my feet and with the sudden impact, my stomach decided that it had enough.

  “I’m gonna puke,” I slapped my hand over my mouth and rushed to the toilet, heaving a few times before my nerves calmed enough for my stomach to settle. My body shook as I lay back against the cold porcelain tile.

  Kirk handed me a small paper cup full of water, and I took a few sips, hoping it didn’t set off the same reaction again.

  After a few moments—as long as I dared to take, I climbed to my feet and Kirk gestured for me to get in the shower.

  I stepped over the tub wall into the hot water that beat down on my head and chest. I closed my eyes, emerging myself in the cleansing stream. Kirk handed in a wash cloth and a white bar of soap, so I scrubbed everywhere, concentrating on every inch of flesh the men had touched.

  “W
hat am I supposed to call you?” I finally got up the nerve to ask over the sound of the falling water.

  “Master,” he answered without a hint of emotion. “Everyone else calls me Kirk—that bit of information might be useful if you don’t want everyone thinking you’re a total idiot.”

  I peeked around the edge of the curtain to see him emptying the contents of the black bag and setting them out on the counter. Two butt plugs, lube, what appeared to be two wrist cuffs and a collar, and a few items I didn’t recognize.

  Ducking my face under the stream to hide the tears I feared would finally break, I wished the water was hotter. That it might sear away everything or at least distract my mind from the train wreck happening in my neurons.

  After I washed out my hair, and rinsed all of the soap from my body, Kirk reached in and turned off the shower, handing me a towel.

  “Get dried off then lean against the counter.”

  Oh god, what now? I rubbed the towel against my skin, weighing my fear of having him snap at me against my fear of whatever he had in mind next.

  He stood, arms crossed, leaning against the counter. For someone who wanted me as a sex slave, he didn’t actually seem the least bit interested in me standing naked in front of him.

  I tried to convince myself that was a good thing. If he had no interest in me, then…. Then, it was more likely he’d pass me off to someone else. Why couldn’t one thing lead to a positive scenario?

  I dropped the towel and moved slowly toward the counter.

  “Lean forward, rest your forearms on the counter,” he said, pressing his hand against my back between my shoulder blades. I stiffened, trying to stay straight, but he slammed me forward, and pinned my legs with his knee.

  With his hands on me, it all sank in. Sex slave. My insides coiled and then stretched out again. The heat of embarrassment twisted in my stomach and burned my face. Kirk pressed my butt cheeks apart and I dropped my forehead to the counter to absorb its coolness, as I watched him pick up a bottle of lube.

  “You’re staying here while I take care of a few things before dinner. Don’t cause trouble unless you want me to recruit a babysitter for you.” As he spoke, he casually slipped a lubed finger inside of me and I shoved my head into my hands. He was gentle, and the fact that it didn’t hurt made it all the more humiliating.

  “Understand?” he asked while pushing his finger as deep as it would go.

  I heard his words, and understood the question clearly, but my mind was elsewhere. Flashes of the people I’d never see again—if I survived this and made it out, I wondered if I’d ever want to see them again. How long could I stay here and still face reality?

  “Answer,” Kirk growled, pulling my wet hair down my back until my back arched and I had to face him in the mirror.

  “I understand.”

  His finger slipped out of my ass and was replaced with something cold, smooth, and much larger. He pressed and the deeper it went, the larger it became, stretching me until my body rebelled. I jerked—as if there was anywhere I could retreat. My scalp ached as he pulled my hair keeping me in place, and my ass burned, stretched, and throbbed, refusing to yield.

  I knew he was going to have his way, but my body had yet to get the memo.

  “Relax,” he instructed as if the tip would help.

  Oh, yeah, sure. Inside my head, the snarky reactions wouldn’t stop, but I attempted to catch them before they slipped out of my mouth and doomed me to another burst of Kirk’s temper.

  Master’s temper. I tried the title out in my head and it sounded just as ridiculous as when he’d said it.

  He released my hair, and I slumped forward until my forehead touched the marble counter top. One breath… two… I kept counting, concentrating on numbers and breaths, trying to push the pain and tension to another place.

  He pressed the plug deeper again, until I involuntarily tightened. My hands fisted, digging my nails into my palms. My hips dug against the edge of the counter and I barely managed to keep myself from squeaking in pain. I wished he would just get it over with, but he waited again.

  Five breaths before he moved again.

  He pulled the plug out then, pressed a bit more and the stretching was replaced with more pain. The newest jolt stayed with me, even after he drew back the plug. Throbbing, aching, I wished the counter top was soft so I could dig my fingers into it.

  Kirk’s other hand slipped between my legs and my knees buckled against the cabinet as he found my clit. I gasped, pressing my forehead harder into the counter.

  I needed some kind of escape—an impossible escape. Anywhere to hide.

  One, two, I started counting again. I had no idea where my last count had left off. I had to get away, to find somewhere safe where my body wasn’t being used and I wasn’t being humiliated.

  The pressure in my ass grew then suddenly eased, and my eyes popped open.

  I could still feel it, the uncomfortable pressure. The sensation wreaked havoc on my nervous system. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t entirely painful anymore either.

  “Stand up,” he said, washing his hands from touching me.

  I watched him in the mirror, not daring to look at him directly, but he barely looked at me. I felt like nothing to him—a dirty toy that he didn’t really want but felt obliged to care for anyway.

  He picked up the silver set of cuffs that he’d laid out on the counter, each wrapped in bands of gold like elegant bracelets. He secured one around each of my wrists with a silver lock. Next, he secured the matching collar around my neck. They were cold and unforgiving, but loose and skinny enough to be tolerable.

  “There’s a tracker inside each one. So even if you managed to get past everyone in the building, an alarm would sound as soon as you hit the perimeter, and the guards would track you down before you made it much farther than that.”

  I stared down at the silver shackles. Slowly, my hope was fading.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling me along and slipping his index finger into a hook on the collar as he grabbed the black bag.

  He led me out of the bathroom and through the next door into his bedroom. A large oak bed frame—at least a king size bed, possibly larger—dominated the room. He dropped the bag on the foot of the bed and pulled out a long length of chain.

  My stomach twisted, and I went weak, slamming into his chest as I fell.

  Kirk laid me on the bed and rolled a blanket up to raise my feet. I was moderately aware as events passed, but it seemed more like a waking dream where only bits of reality filtered in around the foggy and warped edges. The effects weren’t as extreme as what I had experienced in the infirmary, but I still felt lightheaded and disconnected.

  “You get these spells often?”

  I shook my head.

  “How do you feel now?”

  “What do you care?” I scoffed, rubbing my hands over my face.

  Kirk picked up my wrist and felt for my pulse. “I can’t have any fun with you fainting all the time.”

  Well, then, I thought, maybe I should have said that it happens all the time. But even if he didn’t want an unconscious woman, something told me the others would have no qualms with taking advantage.

  Kirk took a deep breath. Although he was acting concerned, his lips sat firm in that straight line they’d been in all along. He knelt next to the bed, then rose and attached the end of the chain to my wrist.

  “Was lunch yesterday the last time you remember eating?”

  I almost smarted off again—that’s what I said earlier. At least I was fairly positive that we’d already had a conversation about what I remembered. “Aside from what you’ve fed me, yes, that’s all I remember.”

  “Are you allergic to anything other than latex?”

  “Rabbits and ragweed.”

  He pressed his lips together, obviously not impressed with answers that meant nothing in his world. Without another word, he disappeared through the door.

  “What if I have to use the bathroom?�
��

  “Hold it until I get back,” he yelled back.

  I tried to sit up to take a small drink, but the butt plug shifted with every small motion, filling me with sensations that balanced on the border between pain and pleasure.

  Kirk stopped at the doorway and looked back, “Don’t even consider taking out the plug, or the next one will be much bigger, and I’ll make sure you can’t move at all.”

  I nodded, but Kirk remained in the doorway like a statue while I pulled the blanket around myself, and laid out the food beside me. Then, he closed his eyes, exhaled, and pushed away from the doorway, approaching the bed again. I stiffened, pressing my head into the headboard.

  Kirk touched my skin, directing my gaze to meet his. “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

  “Yes, Master.” I had to swallow my pride to force it out, reminding myself he’d saved me from a worse fate. “Thank you, Master.”

  After he left, I had nothing better to do than stare at the ceiling. My joints were swollen from the abuse. My ribs and stomach ached, and every time I moved to relieve them, the plug shifted and pressed against a new set of nerves.

  It gave me a firsthand understanding of why uptight, condescending people were described as having sticks up their asses—it was fucking miserable and they needed someone to take it out on.

  I rubbed my hands over my face. Even after the shower, I felt dirty and violated. If I could have scrubbed off my first layer of skin, I would have, and the plug only served as a constant reminder of how far a person could fall in a single day.

  “I’m never apologizing to her. It’s not my fault she can’t keep her damn pants on.” The last words I had uttered to my mother two weeks earlier ran through my head.

  “Do you two even remember why you’re fighting?” she’d replied.

  I did. Even eight months after she packed up and moved out, I remembered exactly why we were fighting—because after she squandered half of her rent money to go out and get drunk with her ex, I told her to grow up and stop acting like an idiot teenager or move out.