Unwilling Pawn by Measha Stone

Chapter 20

Amelia

Anthony followed me around the gift shop of the Museum of Natural History with his hands in his pockets. Just like he had for most of my afternoon wandering the museum. I picked up a black t-shirt and showed it to my escort.

“For Christian, what do you think?”

Anthony read the shirt and his lips quirked up. “I think he might take exception to the neanderthal comparison,” he chuckled.

“I think you’re right.” I draped it over my arm after making sure it was a size that would probably fit over his broad shoulders. Anthony shook his head.

“Careful what beasts you poke,” he muttered while falling back in step with me as I continued to flip through books and collectibles.

As I squeezed past a mother wrangling her children together near the stuffed animals, I bumped into the edge of a counter. Immediately, I became aware of the plug still in place from when Christian inserted it that morning. For the most part, I’d been able to keep my mind from the sensations each movement caused while I was immersed in the museum exhibits.

It drew my attention to my own willingness to obey his dictate. A month ago, I would have outright refused. Yet that morning, I’d given it barely any thought before I followed his directions.

“Mrs. Kaczmarek,” Anthony stepped closer to me. “Are you all right?”

I was still half seated on the ledge I’d bumped into.

“Oh, yes.” I moved back up to my feet. “I’m fine. I think I’ll just pay for this and then we can go.”

Anthony reached inside his pocket, pulling out a wallet, but I waved my hand at him. “No. I’m going to pay for this with my own money,” I said, lifting my purse onto the counter as the saleswoman rang up the shirt.

Even while I was paying with my own debit card, I knew it wasn’t really my money. It was cash my father had deposited in my account every month. I did nothing to earn it. Volunteering at the community center had been something I was proud of, it gave me purpose, but it didn’t pay for anything.

As I pushed in my PIN number on the pad, a new determination hit me. I needed a job. I needed my own purpose.

“I’ll have the car brought around.” Anthony took the bag from me as soon as the saleswoman handed it to me.

I smiled at her and followed Anthony from the gift shop and out onto the street. It was already late afternoon, but the sun was still high in the sky. I slid on a pair of sunglasses from my purse.

“I want to walk home,” I announced as we made our way down the stairs.

“Walk?”

“Yeah. It’s not long if I cut through the park and it’s a sunny day.”

“Okay.” Anthony brought out his phone to call whoever had been assigned to drive us around.

“I’ll walk alone.”

He huffed and shook his head. “No way.”

“It’s not far and I know the way,” I objected.

“Your husband will have my head if I let you walk home alone. I walk with you or you don’t walk,” he stated, giving me the same fierce expression Christian did when he was drawing a line in the sand.

“Fine. Walk with me.” I rolled my eyes. I could try to ditch him, but Christian would no doubt find out.

As we stood at a crosswalk, I noticed a sign down the street. “Wait. Let’s go this way.” I walked off from Anthony as the light changed and crossed the street.

“I thought you wanted to go through the park,” he said, catching up to me in a few strides.

I pointed at a shop a few storefronts down. A piano store. “Do you think they give lessons?” I asked.

“I’m sure Christian will get someone to give you private lessons,” Anthony answered.

I looked up at him over my shoulder. “The lessons aren’t for me.”

As we approached the storefront, a car pulled up alongside of us. Anthony moved to stand between me and the street as though protecting me against an assault.

“You need to relax,” I laughed as I grabbed the door handle of the store. “It’s an old man.”

Anthony followed me inside, still keeping his gaze fixated on the town car idling on the street. The store wasn’t as large as I would have expected, given the placement so close to the park and museums.

“Can I help you find anything?” A young man stepped out from behind a carousel of music books. He pushed his glasses up his nose and wrinkled his brow. Anthony paced by the entrance.

“Hi, I’m Amelia Dudek—uh, Kaczmarek.” I stumbled over my own name, which I’m sure made an amazing impression. “I’m new to the area. Back in Chicago I taught piano. I saw your shop, I thought maybe you offered lessons.” I gestured my hand. “But I guess not.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. No. There is a studio on the other side of the park on 79th and Madison. They might be looking for instructors.”

I nodded. “Great. Thanks.” I smiled and headed back to the door. Anthony frowned.

“Maybe wait,” he said, putting his hand out to stop me.

“You’re being weird. Let’s just go home.” I brushed his arm out of the way and pulled the door open, ringing the bell over the door again. As I stepped out into the sunlight, I reached for my sunglasses, but stopped as the back door of the town car opened. Anthony moved again in front of me.

An older man climbed out of the car, stepping onto the sidewalk with us. His hair was the perfect mixture of black and silver strands. He wore a black suit with a dark blue button-down shirt. A golden eight-point star pin stood out against the dark material of his lapel.

“Mr. Romanov.” Anthony took a protective step forward. The man responded with a raised hand.

“Relax. I’m not here to hurt anyone.” He stepped forward again, closer to me, his gaze intensifying as he studied me. “This is Christian’s wife?”

“She is.”

I nudged Anthony. “I’m Amelia.”

“Amelia Dudek.” Mr. Romanov said my name as though he’d heard it many times, but never had said it out loud.

“Kaczmarek,” Anthony corrected him.

Mr. Romanov fired a glare at Anthony.

“Do you know my father?” I asked, suddenly aware that maybe I should remember him from an event or meeting. Dad was always introducing me to associates. I almost never remembered anyone’s name.

“No.” He frowned. “Not really.”

“Oh.” I looked to Anthony. The longer the silence drew out the more awkward the moment became.

“I’m sorry.” Mr. Romanov shook his head. “You have his eyes,” he whispered.

“My father?” I smiled. “I’ve always been told I look more like my mother.”

His frown deepened. “I bet they do.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” Anthony took control of the conversation, drawing Romanov’s attention away from me.

“Yes.” He stood up straighter. “You tell your boss I want a meeting. Sooner rather than later.”

“I can pass it along,” Anthony said in a noncommittal tone.

Romanov’s jaw tensed. “Impress upon him the importance of our meeting.” He gave me a side glance. “I won’t ask a second time.”

Anthony nodded. “I’ll be sure he understands.”

Romanov looked back at me, a tenderness softening the edges of his hard exterior. For a moment, I thought he would say something else, give an explanation for his odd behavior, but instead he pinched his lips together and shook his head, dodging into the car.

I watched the town car pull out into traffic and disappear among the cars.

“Who was that?” I asked.

Anthony had his phone to his ear, already ordering the car to pick us up.

“We’re walking,” I reminded him.

He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “We’re not.”

“Who was that?” I asked again, as our own car pulled in front of us.

Anthony opened the door for me and gestured for me to get in. “That was Igor Romanov.”

I climbed into the back of the car while Anthony climbed in front.

“And who is he? Should I know him? He doesn’t look familiar, but he seemed to know me.”

Anthony was already tapping on his phone. “He’s the head of the Romanov family.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, tired of all the cloak and dagger drama.

Anthony put his phone back to his ear. Orders were given in a hard tone. All in Polish so I couldn’t understand anything that he was barking out.

“Christian will explain.”

I leaned back in the seat, irritated and tired.

Christian would explain.

Damn right he would.

* * *

It was ten o’clock when Christian finally walked into the penthouse. I heard his leather soled shoes tapping along the foyer from the living room where I sat with my laptop open on my lap. Since arriving home from the museum questions built up in my mind, piling one on top of another.

“Amelia?” Christian appeared in the doorway; his jacket fisted in one hand. “What are you doing in here in the dark?”

I pointed to the soft yellow glow of the reading lamp beside the chair I sat in. “I have light.”

“Barely. What are you doing?” He tossed his jacket on a chair and headed for me, looking over the edge of my screen. With a deep frown, he snatched up the computer and closed it.

“Anthony wouldn’t answer any of my questions.” I dropped my feet from the cushioned footstool to the floor.

“What do you think you’ll find on google?” he asked, waving the computer at me as I wiggled my bare feet into my slippers.

“Who is he?”

“Anthony told you who he is.” Christian put the computer down on the coffee table. He looked worn. Tired. But I wasn’t going to give him the luxury of ignoring the topic. Obviously, Anthony had reported my run in with Igor Romanov.

“He only said that Mr. Romanov is the head of the Romanov family. That literally means nothing to me.” I pushed to my feet. “Tell me who he is, how is he important? Why did he look at me like he knew me?”

Christian dragged a hand through his hair, setting strands to stand on end, and sighed. He marched to the bar at the other end of the room and poured himself a drink.

“Christian.” I wasn’t going to let it go. Sitting in the dark didn’t work for me. Not anymore. I deserved answers.

He downed his drink. “What you need to know is it’s not important and I’m handling it.”

“You’re handling it?” My voice rose, all the pent-up irritation bursting out in one question. “I’m not something for you to handle, Christian. I’m a living, breathing person, and I’m asking you, who the hell is Igor Romanov to me or to you or to my father that he pulled over to talk to me? Why would he do that? It was like he had been looking for me, stalking me, Christian.”

He brought dark eyes to mine. His jaw tightened, giving off a little tick.

“Lower your voice, Amelia,” he ordered.

My voice. His concern was with the volume of my voice?

“You’re not going to tell me?” I demanded, fisting my hands at my side. The ball of anger and frustration ballooned up in my chest, making it hard to breath around it.

“Until I know what he wants, no. You don’t need to worry about him.” His lips pinched into a thin line as he continued to glare me down.

“Even though it obviously concerns me.” I rolled my shoulders back. I was not a little girl; I didn’t need to be hidden away from the scary monsters of the night. Hell, I slept with one by my side every night and survived.

“I want you safe, Amelia. To do that, you’ll stay out of it. You’ll stay home unless Anthony or I can take you where you want to go.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not doing that. I agreed to let one of your men be my little shadow all day, but I’m not going to sit around and wait if you or Anthony aren’t available. I have a life. Or at least I will.”

“Amelia—”

“No!” I slashed my hand through the air. “I am not going to sit up here in the penthouse withering away because you have this crazy obsession with hiding me away in the name of safety. I won’t do it. I’m going out tomorrow to put in some applications for a job. If you have someone ready, they can go with me, otherwise I’m going on my own.”

Confident that I’d gotten my point across, I marched out of the living room. I needed to get away from him. He took up too much room when he was near, and if I didn’t put space between us, I’d fall right into him again. He’d be able to coerce me into tucking away what I wanted, what I needed for the sake of being his good girl.

I stalked across the bedroom floor to my dresser. I’d get a good night sleep, then in the morning I’d start hunting down a job. Something, anything, that would give me purpose here.

I barely touched the handle of the drawer when Christian’s heavy hand wrapped around my arm and spun me around to face him.

“Do you want to repeat to me again what you’re going to do?” He let my arm go and crossed his arms over his chest. His low and steady voice was meant to be a warning. Fierce as his eyes were, they were calm—completely controlled—sending a chill through me.

But I was determined not to be his little lap dog.

“I swear it, Christian. You won’t keep me locked away. I won’t do it. I’ll leave the first chance I get.” Stupidity flares in me when I’m uneasy, apparently. Why else would I have sputtered something so stupid?

I might as well have struck a match and tossed it onto a pile of hay.

He moved closer, inhaling a long breath as he invaded my space. His aftershave, full of spice and heat, infiltrated all the air around me. His jaw worked from one side to the other.

“You tried that once,” he said calmly. “And what happened because of it? What did my naughty girl get?” He tugged at the tie around his neck. “Tell me, Amelia. What happens when naughty girls run away from home?”

His deft fingers unknotted the tie then pulled it from beneath the collar in one tug.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” I turned, ready to hide away in the bathroom to get my full composure back, but Christian had other plans. He snatched my elbow and jerked me back around to face him.

“You’re cute when you think you have the power here.” He grabbed my wrist then the other. Pressing them together, he wrapped his tie around and around. There was no urgency, no forcefulness to his touch. He simply bound me, and I let him.

“This isn’t funny.” I twisted my wrists, trying to unravel from the tightening material, but I was too slow. He had me bound in a knot I couldn’t undo.

He grabbed my chin and shoved my head back until I was looking him in the eyes. His jawline was tense, his eyes darkened and fixated on me. “Answer me, Amelia. What do naughty girls get when they run away from home? When they act out and behave badly.”

“I’m not a child!” I jerked free of his fingers. “You can’t just keep spanking me whenever you don’t like what I say.”

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in on me. “On that we agree. I think tonight’s lesson shouldn’t be a spanking.” He stepped forward to me, grabbing the neckline of my t-shirt and yanked it, splitting the cotton material down the middle.

“Christian!” I tried to fold myself inward, and cover myself, or stop him from creating any more distraction. But as usual, Christian wouldn’t be stopped. He reached around me, fisting my hair in a steel grip.

Bringing me over to the bed, he tossed me into the middle. I tried to scramble up, away, but with my hands bound before me, it made my movements awkward. He snatched my ankle easily and pulled me to the edge of the bed. The bed being too high for me to get my toes to the ground gave him the perfect position. He grabbed the elastic of my pants and yanked. My yoga pants peeled easily away from my ass, down my legs and right off my feet.

I’d been ready to settle in for the night, so I was completely naked beneath my comfortable clothing, making the ordeal entirely too easy for him and damning me.

His large hands grabbed hold of my asscheeks and roughly pried them apart. I squeezed, trying to clench and kick my legs, but he merely pressed his body against me to keep me still.

“You should be grateful you wore the plug today. Your asshole is already stretched a bit.” The tip of his finger pressed against the tight ring of muscle; except I wasn’t as tight as before. He eased his finger up to the knuckle into my asshole with almost no resistance. I expected pain, but only felt a tingle of sting.

“My cock is much thicker than this,” he said, as though reading my thoughts.

“Christian, don’t do this. You don’t need to do this. I understand. No running away.”

The jangle of his belt buckle was his response.

I pushed myself up on my forearms, trying to wriggle my way further onto the bed.

“And yet, there you go trying to run away from your punishment.” His heavy hand slapped hard against my bare ass.

“No, I wasn’t. Just…” His hands were back on me, pulling me right back to where I started.

“You were, don’t lie on top of it, Amelia.” His clothes fell to the floor in a soft thump and then his fingers pried my asscheeks apart again. I clenched, waiting for the inevitable pain. Instead, a cool gel landed, and his fingers smeared the lubricant across my ass.

The tip of his cock pressed hard against my asshole, and I bucked forward.

“Christian! Please!” I tried to wiggle, turning from side to side, but another smack across my ass had me stilled. He was going to do this. I’d threatened to leave, to run away, and he was going to show me how wrong I was to even think I could.

“Grab the pillow and bite down if you need. Scream if you want, but you’re taking my cock in your ass, Amelia.” He nudged his cock forward, invading me. Immediately the burn spread, and I tightened. Every muscle, every fiber, squeezed shut.

“You’ll take it the easy way or the hard way, but I’m fucking your sweet, tight ass one way or the other.” His fingernails dug into my asscheeks as he pulled them wider and wider apart. Another short thrust, and more of his cock was inside me.

I cried out as his thick shaft stretched me.

“Tell me, Amelia.” He inched forward more. Maybe one quick thrust would have made the pain easier to bear, but he wasn’t going to give me that. He wanted me to feel every bite of pain.

“You spank bad girls!” I cried out as another shallow thrust brought him further into me.

He leaned over my body, grabbing my hair and pulling me backward enough that my chest lifted from the bed.

“That’s right.” With one quick shift of his hips, he was fully embedded in my ass. I screamed. The stretch and the burn mingled and ramped up, but he was only getting started.

He withdrew almost completely from me, then plowed forward fully again.

“Christian!” I cried out. Tears formed and fell too quickly for me to contain them. Not that I could have as he continued to do the same pull back then thrust. Over and over again he invaded my body, small grunts of approval escaping him as he fucked me.

Soon the pain morphed into a haze, dragging me forward into it.

“No.” He smacked my ass. “Stay here with me.” He tugged harder on my hair, not in any way that would make my cunt slick, but an irritating pain that shot through my scalp. He wouldn’t allow me even that much pleasure.

“It hurts, Christian.” I fisted my hands, digging my nails into my palms. Anything to divert the discomfort from my ass.

“It wouldn’t be a punishment if it didn’t,” he answered.

Over and over again, he plowed into my ass. Heat rose through my entire body, spreading through my veins, over my chest. If I could only get my hands between me and the bed, I could touch my clit. That one touch could rocket me into the haze again, but he wouldn’t give me even that much room.

I was there, lying over the edge of the bed, fat, hot tears rolling down my cheeks as my husband fucked me in my ass. Taking what he deemed to be his. Punishing me.

But the urgency in my pussy, the swelling of my clit was what made it unbearable.

“Fuck!” He ground his hips into my ass. “Fuck, fuck,” he groaned. He let go of my hair to grab my hips, pulling me back at him as he plowed forward harder than before.

Each thrust made me cry out, but my sounds only seemed to egg him on. Faster and harder he plowed into me. My own need, my own hunger grew and grew.

“Fuck!” he growled, plunging forward one last time, staying buried in my ass while his cock throbbed, filling me with his come. Draped over my back, he pressed a kiss onto my bare shoulder.

“I wanted to make you enjoy it the first time I fucked your ass.” He kissed my cheek, licking away the tear streaks. “You took the pleasure away from me and yourself with your behavior tonight.”

“I don’t want to be caged like an animal,” I whispered.

He gently slipped from my ass and rolled me onto my back. Hot come leaked out, sliding between my cheeks.

He worked open the knot on his tie and threw it to the floor. Quietly, he helped me to my feet and pushed my tattered t-shirt over my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Christian pulled the covers back on the bed and gestured for me to get beneath them. Too tired to fight him, I climbed in and let him pull them up to my chin.

He pressed another kiss to my cheek, and then to my lips. “I want you safe. If that means I have to belt you, fuck you, or tie you to my bed, I will, so long as you’re safe.” He turned the side table light off. “Keep your hands off your pussy. You’re being punished and punished girls don’t get to play with themselves.”

I watched him quietly gather up the clothes from the floor and bring them with him to the hamper before heading to the bathroom. The door closed, only a soft click telling me he’d shut it all the way.

My father kept me hidden away from the world until he needed me. I was a prop.

Christian wasn’t trying to use me. He was trying to protect me.

As much as I wanted to disobey him and find my own pleasure beneath the covers, I didn’t.

I would never let myself believe Christian felt anything toward me in a romantic sense. It would be a mistake to do so.

But he cared about me.

And that was something.

Even if it was the only thing.

It was something.