“That boy—man, is not innocent,” I insist, thinking of how he begged to suck my cock and got off on my degradation.
Di takes off her glasses to rub at her eyes in frustration. “I mean he’s never done anything to hurt anyone, besides sleeping with people he shouldn’t,” she added pointedly.
She didn’t know about what happened on the plane, she couldn’t since it was chartered and there were no cameras on board, but apparently she guessed. Or did Ethan say something… “What did he tell you?”
“Not much I didn’t already know. He has no training in fighting or any skills that make him a threat.” Di hesitates and then adds, “His dad is an asshole who left him alone a lot, so he hates being confined.”
So Ethan didn’t tell her I’d crossed a few lines. He didn’t tell me about his aversion to being locked up, but maybe it is one of those things I assume all people dislike and don’t think about how one person feels more strongly about it than others. I’m not good at caring about an individual's emotions unless it affects me.
Tuning back to Di, she has one judgmental eyebrow raised. “So, are you going to keep the poor man locked up in there forever?”
“Not…forever,” I hedge.
With most people, I would have been plotting how to dispose of him so my secret was safe without a second thought, but that same instinct to protect him I got when I went after Di’s abductors is niggling at me.
“At least let him walk around a bit,” she suggests, patting me on the shoulder before making her way to the house. Di knows I’m not big on touch, and she isn’t either, anymore. “I’ll only monitor the outdoor cameras when you’re home.”
Her parting words have me frozen in place. Di definitely suspects something is going on between me and Ethan, which I don’t even know how to quantify.
Waiting until I hear the car start from the front of my house, I pull out my phone to watch her leave, then go to the tracker app I have for her. I watch as the dots representing her phone and her car make their way out of my neighborhood. When I can tell she’s safely at home, I put my phone away and head into the casita.
Ethan is still sitting up in the bed, one arm outstretched to grip the bed frame over a pillow, I imagine to make the cuff more comfortable. He stops with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth when he sees me. “Um, hi. Do you want some? It’s delicious. Di told me her recipe.”
He offers me food like we’re friends. Like he’s not my captive chained to a bed. Fuck, he really is an innocent.
Without thinking over my decision, I pull the key from my pocket and move to stand between his legs. Ignoring his eye contact, I reach over and remove the cuff from his wrist, leaving it to dangle from the bed.
“Come sit at the table,” I tell him, leaving the room without checking that he’s following. I pull out silverware and a plate from the cabinet in the casita kitchenette. I’ve got the table set for one by the time he comes out with the food container.
He sees the place setting and his face scrunches up in confusion. “I already ate half of it, I’m fine if you have the rest.”
“Come here,” I command, and like a good little pet, he listens, shuffling closer as I remember he doesn’t have any clothes on. Taking my seat, I point at the rug under the round table. “Sit.”
Ethan blinks at me, then plops himself down at my feet. He looks up at me through those impossibly thick, dark lashes, “Like this, Sir?”
His obedience is so ingrained in him, it’s a beautiful thing to behold. “Good pet.”
“Is that what I am now?” Ethan asks, licking his lips. “Your pet?”
Without answering right away, I start dishing up food onto my plate. “Well, I can’t very well let you walk free, now. Not with what you know. Can I?”
Ethan’s brows bunch up in thought. “No. I guess not.”
“It’s settled then,” I state, even though it’s not. I know who and what his father is, but I don’t know if Ethan does.
Chapter nine
Ethan
Howisthismanso hot? Owen MacKenzie was already in my spank bank. Even before I met him, I liked that he’s older, serious, charming, and intelligent. Him being Dominant and kinky only heightened my attraction. Apparently, being a murderous psychopath wasn’t disqualifying for my libido.
Looking up at him as he forks the food I’ve been eating into his mouth without dropping a crumb has me drooling like I didn't already get my fill. Maybe if we have sex again he’ll keep me alive? Yeah, sure, that’s why I want to have sex with him.
The main issue is not knowing if he’ll be receptive. The world thinks he’s straight, and he didn’t initiate what we did on the plane. I did. Then he had his hands all over me in the shower, but didn’t take advantage of the situation. Unfortunately.
Taking my chances, I lift my hands from where they’re resting on my thighs and run my fingers up his calves over the suit pants he’s wearing. “Is this what you wore on the show today, Mac?”
Mac—because that’s Di called him, so I plan to use the nickname as well—tenses and looks down at me, setting his fork down on the table over my head. “It is. Why?”