Pieces of Autumn by Mara Black Read Free Book Online

I might as well get some enjoyment out of it." His eyes raked over me. "Strip."
    It didn't take much. Just two movements, really - untying the sash and pulling the shift over my head. It felt like it took a thousand years. Tears glistened in my eyes, but my stomach tingled, my nipples stiff peaks that stood out like beacons on my naked chest.
    Tate was looking at me - well, probably the same way I'd looked at that plate of food when I walked into Stoker's boardroom. I wondered how long it had been since he did this. How long had he been living here alone? Had he ever done this before? Fucked one of Stoker's girls?
    Fucked a sex slave?
    Daniela.
    Who was she? Had Tate loved her? Could I possibly tap into some human part of him, if I evoked her in some way? If I reminded him?
    But no, I didn't dare. How would he react if he knew I'd read the letter? Already he looked like he could kill me, over some imagined slight.
    What plan is he talking about? Why does he think I'm here?
    "I don't know about any plan," I heard myself reiterate, to break the silence.
    Tate stopped dead in his tracks, glaring at me. "Shut up," he snarled. "Or I'll make you shut up."
    The tears started to trickle down my cheeks, one by one. He advanced on me, his mouth once again twisting into a smile that sent waves of conflicting desires through my body. Fear and arousal. Hot and cold.
    His hand rested on the side of my face, lightly gripping my jaw, his thumb brushing a tear aside. "Silly girl," he murmured. "Now, are you starting to regret your decision? Are you starting to realize Stoker could never be your salvation?"
    I nodded, because it seemed like the right answer.
    "You're a fast learner," he said. "But not fast enough."
    Abruptly, he withdrew from me, going back to pacing the floor. When he finally stopped and turned to me again, I braced myself.
    "What's wrong with you, pet? Why don't you scream? Why don't you run away?"
    He was mocking me again. But somewhere, in the darkness behind his eyes, there was a genuine desire to hear me answer.
    I swallowed, though I swore my throat was filled with broken glass.  
    "I have nowhere to go."
    Shivering, I waited for his next order. But he was completely silent, and completely still, for a long time.
    "Down," he said, finally. "On all fours."
    My body was hunching forward, folding over onto the ground, before my mind even had a chance to process it. Dark images were swirling in my mind, memories of dreams and dreams of memories, and I was starting to recognize what I'd been feeling all along when I had those nightmares about the mysterious man who owned me.
    This was what my body wanted .  
    I was sick. I was twisted. I'd known all along that my parents' death had damaged me, but like this ? Was I so profoundly broken that my pussy wept and ached at the thought of ownership? The loss of my free will? Being taken by force?
    Oh God, I couldn't let him see. He couldn't know what a profound effect he was having on me. What if it pushed him further? What if it angered him, because he didn't want me to want it? What if he needed me to fight back?
    I looked up at him, eyes streaming. There was a heavy twitch in his groin, spurred on, I thought, by my tears.
    What a fucked-up pair we were. It was almost funny.  
    Except it really, really wasn't.
    He palmed his hardening cock through the fabric, pressing down, almost like he was trying to will it away. But that was wishful thinking on my part. He was relishing every moment of this, loving the fact that I was so broken and malleable for him.
    "You want this?" he demanded.
    Yes, yes, say yes. It'll be easier for you.
    Unless he wants you to say no.
    Just tell the truth.
    I don't know what's true anymore.
    I just stared at him, numbly.
    "Let's try that again," he said, softer this time. " Do you want this ?"
    My fingers clutched at the centuries-old wood, staring at him. Finally, my pride won out.
    I shook my head.
    An angry noise escaped from the back of his throat.