Unwilling Pawn by Measha Stone
Chapter 18
Amelia
After Christian changed his suit jacket and shirt for a light blue collared button down, he escorted me to the elevator entrance of the penthouse. Tension built in the elevator as we rode down the seventeen floors to the lobby.
Still shaken and confused by what took place in his office, I pressed myself against the wall as far as I could get from him in such a small space. He’d completely used me for his own gratification as a punishment for mouthing off to him.
Just thinking about his heavy, silky cock in my mouth made me bring my fingers to my lips. I’d gone into his office with my attitude blazing. I knew he was in a meeting, but I hadn’t cared. Not being allowed to leave alone had triggered the last bit of nerve I had control over.
When I’d woken up that morning, I was tender. Not just my body where he’d been rough—animalistic, really—but in my soul. I’d loved every second of his touch. And I wanted it again. As I showered, I’d found little crescent markings on my inner thighs where he’d dug his nails into me. They served as a trophy, which only made me more afraid of my thoughts.
And he’d seen right through all of my bullshit. I yelled. I swore. I found his little buttons and I punched them, wanting him to react. I wanted to see if I was really as crazy as I thought I was. But instead of spanking me, instead of giving me the pain I was after, he’d made me get on my knees for him.
And it was all the worse for me. He didn’t just leave me wanting my own orgasm. He left me silently craving the same feelings he brought up when he put me on my knees.
For my entire life, I’d wanted one thing. Control over my life. But when I was there, my hands behind my back, him fucking my throat for his own gain, a sense of freedom came over me.
This man was making a mess of me.
“This way,” Christian broke the silence, slipping his hand into mine as we crossed 59th at the 7th avenue crossing, taking us into the park. He led me down the trail that ran along the main street.
We came to a group of carriages waiting for passengers. The horses were magnificently large and had vibrantly colored breastplates. The carriages they pulled matched their gear.
“Take the lady for a ride?” a man standing near the hut asked Christian.
“No,” he answered and continued past them. Another couple came up from behind us and asked about the cost.
“Not the romantic type, I see,” I muttered, though truth be told, sitting in one of those carriages meant to bring couples closer together was not the thing I wanted at the moment.
I’d wanted to walk through the park for peace and quiet. I wanted to get my thoughts in order and figure out what I could do now that I’d been transplanted to this new city. Instead, I had my hulk of a husband leading me through the park, invading the very thoughts I was trying to organize.
“Would you like to ride the horses?” he asked, glancing sideways at me.
I sighed. “No. I don’t like that they’re made to pull people all day long. And those blinders they make them wear.” I couldn’t help it. I’d done too much research on animals forced into entertainment positions when I was in high school. I couldn’t shake the images and horrors I’d found in my research.
He squeezed my hand. “I didn’t think so.”
I looked away from him as we walked. I couldn’t be that easy to read. He was probably just making it up.
“Don’t you have work today?” I asked after we walked for a while more in silence.
“It can wait a few hours.” He pointed to a hot dog cart along the path. “Hungry?”
“I’m fine.”
He nodded and we continued on. Laughter and joyful squeals carried through the trees, and I peeked through them.
“There’s a playground over there.” Christian pointed. “Somewhere you can take our children when we have them.”
“Of course, you’d want a lot of kids. Someone to take over your empire when you’re too old to bribe or steal what you want.”
He pulled me to stop, turning toward me. “I don’t do anything any politician or corporate asshole doesn’t do.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Just because I don’t fake my way through life, pretending to be something I’m not so the world will look the other way when I do anything I want regardless of the legality of it, doesn’t make me worse than them. I’m no worse than your father.”
I gritted my teeth. “I never found a man bloody and bruised in my father’s backyard. And he didn’t have a room in our house dedicated to torture and death.”
He narrowed his eyes. “No. That’s true. Your father used men like me for those types of services.”
My breath caught in my chest. My dad wouldn’t have done anything like that.
“Like I said, just because a man looks decent on the outside, doesn’t mean he isn’t rotten as hell on the inside.” He took a step, tugging me along with him.
“You’re right,” I conceded. “Appearances aren’t everything.”
He pulled me to the right side of the path as a group of cyclists whizzed past us. I bumped into him.
“Sorry.”
“The park is pretty safe during the day, with all these people around. But you’re never to walk through here after dark. And for now, until you have a better grasp of the city, I don’t want you going out alone. Go and explore all you want, but I want one of my men with you. If only to give you directions.”
It wasn’t unreasonable. Which only made it harder for me to agree with.
“And what do I do with my days while you’re in all your meetings? If I said I wanted to get a job, what would you say?” We stepped out of the shade of the trees and the sun hit my face, making me squint as I looked up at him.
I could see his jaw moving from side to side while he thought over my question. “What sort of work would you want to do?”
“Other than teaching piano, I don’t have any actual job experience. So I guess an entry level position somewhere in a hotel chain or something?” My degree in hospitality would probably get me a decent position.
“Why didn’t you go to school for piano? Or music? All of your schooling had to do with corporate work. Seems a bit boring for you.”
“My father thought music was a hobby, not a career. Not that he supported the idea of me getting a degree in anything anyway. But if I’d pushed a music degree, he would have tried to take it over. He would have put me on display at his parties, his fundraisers. It would have become about helping him instead of something I loved doing.”
He pointed to a path on our left and we veered toward it.
“I’ve known your father vaguely for a few years, but the more I learn about him the more I don’t like him,” Christian stated.
“I never got to talk to him before we left,” I said. I’d tried calling him once more before getting on the plane, but again he had declined my call.
“Leave him in the past for now, Amelia.” He wasn’t demanding it, but there was a warning there.
“And Maggie? Should I leave her in the past too? I didn’t even get to see her before I left.” I was able to talk to her briefly, but we didn’t get to say goodbye in person. Who knew when I’d be able to see her again?
“No. I don’t think that would be possible, anyway.” His tone suggested there was more there than he wanted to tell me.
“What does that mean?”
“Here.” He pointed toward a sign. Michael Friedsam Memorial Carousel. “I doubt any of these horses have been hurt in any way to bring you entertainment.” He bumped his shoulder into me and pulled me to the entrance.
I followed him in shocked silence. The carousel itself was housed inside an open brick building. A calliope played a classic carousel waltz as the jumper horses carried their passengers between rows of static horses. The vibrant colors of all the horses, as well as the chariots, caught my eye while Christian went over to the attendant to pay for our tickets.
When he returned, he linked his fingers through mine again, holding my hand tight. Almost as though he wanted to be sure he didn’t lose me.
There wasn’t much of a crowd, so when the ride stopped and we had our turn to climb on, Christian took the lead again. After weaving in and out between rows of the horses and chariots, he settled on a jumper horse in the back row where there were no other riders.
“Up you go.” He grabbed my hips and hoisted me up onto the horse before I had a chance to climb on myself.
“I could have done that on my own,” I muttered, grabbing hold of the gold painted metal pole attaching my horse to the horse hanger.
“But what fun would that have been for me?” He stepped around the back of my horse, I assumed to climb on the horse beside me. A sight I was hopeful to see. The bulk of him climbing on such a delicate looking white horse would have been a sight. But he moved around until he was standing at my right side.
“You’re not going to ride?” I asked with a smile. “I’m sure there’s a chariot you can use if you’re scared of the horses.”
His lips kicked up to the right. “Now would be a bad time to get mouthy, sweet girl.” He laid his hand on my thigh, his fingers playing the hem of my dress that had crept up when I straddled my horse.
“All set, Mr. Kaczmarek?” the attendant asked, hopping up onto the carousel at the edge.
“Ready, Sal,” Christian answered.
“But there’s more people coming,” I pointed out while stretching my neck to see the entrance.
“They’ll ride next,” Christian promised.
Sal hopped off the ride and disappeared. A moment later the music started up again and we were off. My horse rose up and down along with the melody, galloping along while the panels depicting folktales spun past on my left. Christian’s fingers tightened around my thigh, making me turn my attention to him.
“I won’t fall off,” I assured him. But he wasn’t smiling. That fierce hunger I’d noticed in his office that morning, right before he’d pushed me to my knees was back in full force.
“Time for truth telling,” he said, gliding his hand up my thigh beneath my skirt. “Be a good girl and tell me the truth. Let me give you a reward for how sweetly you took your punishment at home.”
My cheeks blazed; the music of the ride blurred into the distance.
“Christian, we’re in public,” I whispered, looking around to see if anyone was in our line of sight.
“No one can see you with me standing here. To them, I’m just a concerned husband wanting to keep his wife from falling off.” His fingers danced further up my leg until he came to the elastic band of my panties.
“What do you want to know, Christian?” I asked, hoping that if I just gave him what he wanted, he’d stop playing around.
“Tell me you like the pain I give you. Admit you enjoy it as much as I love seeing you take it.” His fingers curled, sending his fingernails into my skin. Heat rushed over my body with the little bite of his nails.
“Be a good girl for me,” he whispered in my ear, then kissed my cheek.
“Stop saying that,” I moaned, pressing my forehead into the pole.
“Why? Because it makes your pussy wet?” He moved his fingers, slipping into my panties and sliding down until he brushed against my clit. I sucked in a long breath, clenching my teeth to keep any sound from escaping my throat. While straddling the horse, I couldn’t snap my legs shut. I had no protection.
How could I let him know that it was true? That every time he whispered those words, my entire body hummed? Or that when his jaw tensed with irritation, a flutter went through my stomach. Worse, how could I admit that when hurt me, when he brought the electric tingles of pain, my soul soared?
“Tell me,” he whispered into my ear, biting down on my earlobe.
I had to press my lips tightly together, squeeze my eyelids closed, anything to block out the music he was playing inside of me.
“Do you need my fingers in your ass right here on the horse for you to be honest?”
The warning wasn’t given as joke. He would do it. And I’d probably come hard because of it.
“No,” I shook my head against the pole. The horse rode high up again, making his fingers press harder against my clit. “Okay, yes. It feels good.”
“What feels good?” he asked, nudging my hair from my neck and licking my throat. “When I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I answered, arching my hips so my pussy was easier for him to access. His fingers danced over my clit, rubbing and pinching, driving me right to the edge of my tolerance.
“And when I hurt you?” he asked, his teeth scraping against my neck as the horse brought me up again.
“Yes,” I moaned, pushing my mouth against my folded hands. We were isolated on the carousel, but that didn’t mean no one would hear me if I let out the fury of my arousal.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” He pushed his hand further down my panties. As I leaned back on the horse, he easily slipped two fingers into my pussy. “Now you can have your reward.” He wrapped his arm around my back, pulling me against him as the horse continued to gallop.
“I…fuck, Christian,” I whispered. My pussy tightened around his fingers as he gently probed my passage. The heel of his hand ground against my clit hard with the movement of the ride, giving me just the right amount of pain to mingle with the fullness of his fingers.
“Better hurry up, Amelia.” He bent his fingers. “Sal won’t let the ride go on forever. And don’t be too loud. This is a family attraction, after all.” He kissed my cheek, my jaw, then the tender spot just behind my ear. “Good girls come when they’re told. You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”
So badly, I did. I wanted to melt into his arms when he was this attentive, when he made me feel as though I were the only woman in the world. No one else existed, just the two of us.
He pressed his lips to my ear. “Come right now, Amelia. Come for me,” he ordered in the same baritone that made my panties soaked every other time he used it on me.
I arched my hips more, seeing the sparks starting to flicker to life behind my eyelids. The arm holding me around my waist rose up until he reached my breasts. With his forefinger and thumb, he grabbed my nipple and pinched.
Rockets burst behind my eyelids; colors unimagined blew into my view while every nerve ending fired off shots. Liquid lava ran through my veins with every hurried beat of my heart. My thighs pressed against the horse’s flanks.
Christian’s mouth crashed down over mine, taking my moans and silencing them. Every wave crashed harder than the last. It was as if being there with him like that, simply falling into his authority, into his power, had intensified every fiber of my body.
When he broke the kiss and my body softened against him, he slowly removed his fingers from me and replaced my panties and smoothed down my dress. He held me like that, silently, as the ride continued.
“Sal,” Christian called, raising his right hand into the air as we passed the attendant stand. A few moments later the carousel slowed and then came to a stop.
“Is there anyone in the world that doesn’t follow your orders,” I grumbled, sliding off the horse and getting back on my own two feet.
Christian flashed me a smile, pulling out a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiping the saddle of the horse where an obvious wet streak of my juices had spilled. Mortification sucked the air out of my lungs.
“Sal’s worked here forever. I used to bring my sister here when she was young enough to find it interesting.” Christian pocketed the handkerchief and reached around the horse to grab my hand again. “Can you walk, or should I call for the car?” he asked, as we stepped down from the ride.
“I’m fine.” I thrust my chin up, determined not to let him win any more battles. I’d already given him too much.
He laughed. “Such a stubborn girl I have.” He tugged on my hand and pointed to the hot dog stand we’d passed earlier.
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up an appetite. Let’s get that hot dog.”
I’d been the one turned inside out by him on the carousel ride, but he seemed lighter than air at the moment. And for just that time, just that brief moment in time, I let myself relax and enjoy him.
Because like we’d already determined, appearances weren’t everything. He was still Christian Kaczmarek. And I was still his forced bride.