Run to Him: The Full Novel: A Domination/Submission Alpha Male Billionaire Suspenseful Romance (The Billionaire's Beck and Call Book 4) (10 page)

I was trapped in dungeon of a madman, totally and completely alone.

A loud buzzing turned my thoughts back to my captor. He was holding a long device like a wand with a spinning top, its cord stretching off into the shadows. It looked like some kind of torture device, but when he brought it near and pressed it between my legs, I realized it was something much, much worse.

“
Fuck you
!”

He hit me again, hard, and I cried out, my cheek swelling and burning even as the magic wand sent aggressive waves of pleasure through my pussy lips below.

“Such hatred, Lucy,” he whispered, pressing the wand into me harder until my toes curled and my eyes watered. “And I’ve been nothing but kind to you. Good to you.”

He grabbed my nipple and twisted, making me scream.

“But what do I get in return for my kindness, hmm? I get
spit in my face
.”

He released my nipple and pulled my hair tight instead, dragging my face next to his.

“I get
humiliated
in front of my guests, I get
verbal abuse
...”

He yanked my hair hard, sending searing pain through my scalp, even as the wand mercilessly teased me, making my thighs shake in my restraints, my body helpless to resist the pleasure he was forcing me to endure.

“And after I take you in! Pay you! Feed you! Clothe you! Treat you like the most beautiful woman in the world!”

He dug the vibrator into me with each phrase, pulsing it against me until I was sweating, trying to hold back, trying not to betray myself, even as he pushed me closer and closer to orgasm.

He moved his face right next to mine, and flipped the switch to its highest setting. I shrieked, trying desperately to hold on, to stop what I knew was now inevitable.

“
Why won’t you just let me love you
,” he hissed in my ear.

I whimpered, tears rolling down my cheeks, along with the blood dripping from my injured lip, my swollen face. He stroked my hair, watching me with a smile on his face, enjoying my struggle.

“You will before the end, Lucy Willcox. You will love me, as I love you. And everything will be finally be as it should be. It will be
perfect
.”

I came apart, my orgasm crashing over me along with a wave of hot disgust, searing me, making me cry even as I shook, pleasure rippling through me again and again.

I cried out Max’s name, willing his face into my mind’s eye as I came, imagining it was him I was falling apart for, him I was giving my pleasure to, him stroking my hair and calling me his own.

I love you, Max. I love you! Please, know that I love you!

The last thing I saw was Mr. Alastair’s fist sailing through the air toward my face, and then I succumbed, once more, to darkness.

Chapter 6: Escape

Lucy

In my dreams, he was with me; tall and strong, cocky, even, as he leaned against the side of his black Lamborghini, eying me like I was his prey, and he the predator.

I went to him, needing him, wanting to feel his arms around me, holding me close—keeping me safe, even though his power, his presence, also sent a little thrill of fear through me whenever we played our games. But even so, with him, I knew I was safe.

He turned me around and pulled me tight to his chest, enfolding me, pressing my backside against the strong planes of his muscular body. I felt his breath, warm on my neck, his need growing against me, his hands tight on my arms, holding me fast.

My body responded to him, my pussy aching to be filled, needing him inside of me.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice a rasp in my ear.

I snuggled back against him, rubbing my ass along the stiff outline of his cock.

“Why not?”

He bucked into me with a growl, but held me fast, keeping me from reaching back and touching him, like I so desperately wanted.

“Because,” he said. “You have to run, Lucy.”

I leaned against him, smelling his scent, basking in his warmth.

“What?” I murmured.

“You have to run,” he said. “Run to me, Lucy.”

“But…”

I was confused. He was right here, holding me tight. Right here next to me… my gorgeous Max.

Suddenly, the air shifted, a chill breeze kissing my skin. The sky was growing dark overhead—clouds rolling in. There was a storm brewing.

I felt Max’s hands on me, felt his touch, as strong as ever, but now, his voice was far away, fading behind me.

“Run, Lucy! Run!”

“Max?”

I turned my head, wanting to see him, to reassure him that everything would be all right, and we would always be together. I looked over my shoulder and met Lucas Alastair’s cold gaze, saw his manic grin.

“Stay with me, Lucy,” he said, and kissed my cheek with hot, dry lips.

I woke in the dark with a scream.

***

Max

Damien and James were in position, with Chase Drake and I sitting outside the club, listening and ready. I’d driven to meet him there, parking my Lamborghini out of sight a couple of blocks away, and now I sat in the back of his town car, laptop beside me, as he and Isabeau fiddled with the radio, getting things ready to stream.

I tried to take a deep breath, but my chest was tight, my throat dry as a bone as I thought of Lucy in there, naked and bound, trapped and afraid. Damien and James were tough guys, and although I trusted them with every fiber of my being, every minute I spent out here while they were in there, I was dying inside, my body itching to be part of it, to be in the middle, ready for a fight. Ready to win my Lucy back, whatever the cost.

I thought back to earlier, explaining the situation to my old friends in the comfort of my study, both of their faces as hard as stone as I spoke. Chase had already told them about Lucy going missing, but when they heard about my last phone call, I could see the shock in their eyes.

“I had no idea,” James said. “Lucas’ firm consulted with my company last year, so I’ve run into him once or twice, but never got to know the guy. Jesus…”

“He sounds like a fucking psycho,” Damien said, his dark eyes glinting dangerously. “If I’d known what kind of man he was, Max, I would have thrown him off the roof.”

“I know, Damien,” I said, patting the large man on the arm. “I don’t blame either of you for being at the club that night. I’m just glad we have an in, and you’re willing to help me fight to get her back.”

“Anything, brother,” Damien said, and James nodded. “You know that. We’ve always got your back.”

It was a moment before I could say anything. I just stood, watching my two friends as they discussed when and where they might get in to see Alastair at his club, a lump in my throat, my gratitude to them, to Chase, to all of them, almost overwhelming.

When Damien mentioned that Alastair had invited him to a private party the next night, we knew that was our opportunity. Chase called his wife, and Damien called the club, asking if he could invite James along, too, and slowly but surely our plan came into being.

Now, despite the danger, the wheels were in motion. They were going in, tonight. Thanks to Chase, they were both wearing wires, which would stream everything that was said to the computer, where it would be ready to send to Chase’s friend in the DA’s office. It was up to the boys to get in, get Alastair comfortable, and then get him talking about his new little slave girl, and hopefully get his confession.

We were hoping there would be no need for violence or confrontation tonight, but Damien insisted on bringing his gentleman’s knife nonetheless, tucked into the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket. However, he and James knew there were guards from the previous party they attended, so we were all hoping they’d be able to get in and get out unscathed, and with the evidence we needed to get the authorities involved to save Lucy.

I just prayed things would go smoothly, for her sake. Hell, for all our sakes. I didn’t want my friends beaten or arrested, any more than I wanted to be waiting in this goddamn car, letting them do all the work.

But, as Chase pointed out, Alastair knew my face. I didn’t want to spook him. Not just yet… Not until we had enough to hang the fucker.

Both of them were walking to the gates of Club Asmodai now, Damien and James both looking as smooth as ever in their tuxedos, both with microphones hidden beneath their shirts.

“We’re online,” Isabeau said from the front seat.

She gave me a small smile, her eyes full of worry.

“We’ll get her back, Max,” she said. “We have to.”

I reached over and squeezed her hand, knowing she was just as panicked as I was, thinking about her sister imprisoned somewhere behind these walls. We were parked across the street from the club, watching and waiting.

We saw James and Damien approach the gate and get buzzed in, disappearing down the long walk to the Club doors. The sound of static filled the car for a moment, and then sound crackled to life, fed through by their mics.

“-vitation?”

“Here you are.”

Damien’s gruff voice came through loud and clear.

“Mr. Alastair is expecting us,” James said.

I heard the creak of the doors, and exchanged a look with Chase.

This was make or break time, and here I was, waiting in the car, helpless to do anything but hang back and let others take the lead, even though every bone in my body wanted to rage in there and choke Lucas Alastair with my bare hands.

But I also knew if I did, I’d be dooming our chances to save the woman I loved. I couldn’t help her if I was being tazed by Alastair’s guards, and no one would believe us without that evidence.

I just hoped Alastair felt like talking tonight.

Lucy, we’re coming! Just a little bit longer, my beautiful girl… Stay strong, my love!

I sat back and ran my hands over my face, and listened to the sounds of the club, filtering in over the speakers.

***

Lucy

If my hands hadn’t been cuffed to the leather harness I was wearing, I would have tossed the porcelain mask across the room, but as it was, I had to leave it on, covering my bruised face, so I would be beautiful for Mr. Alastair’s guests.

Before the bastard put it on me, I saw it in his hands—a painted doll face that would make his toy look rosy and happy, just the way he wanted me, with cherry red lips and big black lashes painted above the eye holes.

I was nude again except for thick, leather straps crisscrossing over my pussy to my throat, and crossing above and below my breasts, framing them for display, then again across my waist. My wrists were bound in leather cuffs that attached to the strap there, keeping my arms tucked neatly by my sides, my hands still able to hold trays and fetch drinks, but unable to do much of anything else.

I stood now, at Mr. Alastair’s side, feeling more like furniture than a human being, holding a tray with his scotch on the rocks on it at the ready. He sat in his wingback, reading the Wall Street Journal, the fire crackling beside him, oblivious to my shaking hand, and the beads of sweat starting to roll down my neck.

There was a soft rap at the door.

“Come in,” Mr. Alastair said, without looking up.

Two other women in harnesses similar to mine entered the room, one of them carrying an ice bucket with a bottle sticking out of it, and the other struggling with a full glass of champagne in each cuffed hand. Both of them were mask-less, but their faces were so heavily made up they might as well have been wearing one. We all were here to play the role of Mr. Alastair’s toys—dolls he paraded in front of his friends, ready to be used and played with at a moment’s notice.

The women across from me exchanged a knowing smile, then downcast their heavy lashes, repressing their giggles. Obviously, I was the only prisoner here—these other women were here for their pleasure, as well. I wanted to cry out, to beg them to help me, but they were bound as well, and as usual, a guard stood by the door, hulking in his tuxedo, ready to step in at the first sign of trouble.

So, I stood by, praying for a miracle, some moment where this motherfucker would drop his guard and give me an opening. I almost wanted him to try something, just so I could rip his balls off, but he kept true to his word. He smiled up at me, and I grimaced beneath the mask.

He was waiting for me to beg him… beg him to fuck me.

Well, he’ll still be waiting, long after he’s rotting in hell.

There was another rap and the girl with the ice bucket turned awkwardly to open the door with her free hand. She nodded and backed up, letting two men enter—guests, by the look of them.

For a moment, my heart leapt in my chest, thinking it was Max, but the tall, dark, and handsome man who stepped through the door first had hair that was a little longer, and eyes that were dark and brooding instead of my love’s piercing blue. His friend was also tall and well built, looking like a young James Bond with sandy hair and an easy smile, but handsome as he was, the disappointment crashed over me like a wave.

Max… Will I ever see you again? I wonder what you’re doing, right this moment.

The thought of my lover, the man I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, made my heart ache so badly I had to stop myself from groaning. He may never know what happened to me. My poor, sweet Max…

“Ah, welcome, gentlemen!”

Mr. Alastair stood to greet his guests, shaking their hands warmly and gesturing to chairs by the fire.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, and please, make yourselves comfortable. The pleasures of my club are at your disposal.”

He snapped his fingers and the two servant girls came forward, their perky breasts bouncing in their harnesses as they handed out champagne glasses, and set the ice bucket onto the low coffee table, bending and sashaying as they worked to give the two men the best possible view of all they had to offer.

To my surprise, the darker man’s eyes weren’t on them, but made their way over me, looking me up and down from head to toe, taking in everything from the curves of my body to the red hair spilling down in ringlets from behind the porcelain mask.

I shifted nervously beneath his gaze. As if he noticed me watching him, he looked away, smiling graciously at his host, dimples appearing on his handsome face.

“Thank you so much, Lucas,” he said. “The pleasure is all ours.”

“Your hospitality is legendary,” the other said. “We appreciate the invitation.”

His eyes also flicked to me, then back to their host, and I stood there, wondering if they would hurt me like Mr. Alastair had… but something about their eyes told me they were different.

They sipped their champagne as the two women knelt before them, thighs spread wide and eyes downward, waiting to be called upon. I couldn’t help but notice bulges straining the trousers of both of the men, but they didn’t make a move toward the women, even though I could practically feel their need permeating the air.

No, there was something else on their minds other than sex, even in this atmosphere. Who were they, and what on earth did they want?

“So,” the dark haired man began, breaking the silence. “Your invitation said you’re looking to fill the Club’s inner circle?”

“Ha!” Mr. Alastair said, settling down next to me again, and taking his scotch from my tray. “Straight to the point. That’s what I like about you, Damien. You’re a straight shooter.”

Damien nodded politely and took another drink, his body language stiff, although his face held an expression of bemused calm.

“I don’t get a lot of that among my peers at the law firm,” he continued, chuckling. “But honesty and strength of character are things that I am looking for in the Doms I’d like to help me run this place.”