Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (best ereader for pdf and epub .TXT) 📗

“…the big bad, bad guy you know,” he spouted. So proud of himself, he was. “You know what I'm going to do. To you.”

I shrugged. “Nowhere to run,” I replied, and noticed the first trace of a glaze in his eyes.

“That's for true,” he said, and went on to further query why I didn't like him.

So many reasons, I thought as he leaned his head against the tree. At this point, he was fighting to keep his eyelids open. He looked as though he was feeling a little off, but couldn't quite put his wretched finger on it.

“What's wrong? Babe?” I asked.

He grinned, making the cut on his cheek bleed again, and said that he was good. He also said that I shouldn't run away or he'd have to tie me up again. He was still calling me Sofia, too. I nearly giggled, and pointed out that he'd tie me up if I ran away or not. He laughed.

It was a stoner's laugh. A slow, ha-hah you hear from lit surfers or baked beatniks.

The Rohypnol kicked in, and kicked in hard. It kicked Maddox's ass, too. And it kicked it HARD.

Ha-hah.

Chapter Sixteen

SOFIA

Call me paranoid or whatever, but even though Maddox was virtually comatose, I still didn't trust him. There was no way to predict how long the effects of the roofies would last, so I needed to move as fast as I could.

He did have the common courtesy to pass out against the palm tree, which was good. When he woke up, I'd have to thank him for that.

The tree didn't have a particularly thick trunk, yet it still took two pairs of handcuffs to secure his arms behind him. This may have been the most difficult part of the operation. Not only were his arms thick and muscled, they were dead weight.

“You work out, Maddy?” I asked him.

His head lolled forward.

He wasn't going to be a great conversationalist right now. But, oh, the things we were going to talk about.

I got the manacles around his wrists, and locked the pairs together.

There. That should do it.

I tugged on the little chains, just to make sure. Nope. He wasn't going anywhere, not until I decided he should. And I wasn’t sure I would ever come to that conclusion.

I unsheathed the boa knife, and laid the tip against the emblem of his shirt – that precocious, embroidered polo player swinging his mallet upon a galloping steed. I always hated that logo. It just screamed money bag dick head.

Just the tip, I chuckled to myself, and cut off his shirt. I tore a strip of it away, balled up the rest and put it aside. It would make great kindling for later.

The fire popped and crackled behind me as I relieved him of the rest of his clothing. Pants, boxers, socks and shoes. I stashed all of it next to the kindling pile.

I took the strip of his former shirt and wrapped it around his head, gagging his mouth. I didn't want to hear his shit when he came to.

I wanted to see the look in his eyes. I wanted to see the confusion, then shock, then realization. Mostly, though, I wanted to see fear.

“With any luck, right?” I said, and cozied up in my blanket, on my side of the fire.

Step one was in place. The bastard was exactly where I wanted him, and it had gone so well it called for a celebration. I treated myself to a piece of chocolate.

Chapter Seventeen

MADDOX

Shanna Ryon sat across from me, her blouse unbuttoned to her navel, a plate of live trout bouncing in front of her fabulous, round breasts. She took a long, seductive sip of wine, and winked. She didn't seem to know, or notice, the fish flapping around on her china, clattering about. Shanna only had eyes for me, I was certain.

“Is Martin married?” she asked, putting her napkin in her lap.

We were back at the Huntsman's Cove. The taxidermied heads surrounded us – their plastic eyes bulging from their heads, their tongues licking out from between their painted, black lips.

“Martin…?” I questioned, looking down at my own plate. Just one goldfish cracker. I was sure I ordered more than that just a single goldfish cracker. “Yeah, he's married. Sometimes,” I continued and she cut me off.

“That's too bad. I find him attractive. More attractive than I find you, Maddox.” Shanna took up her fork, and stabbed the flailing trout straight through center. “I don't believe in catch and release, either. Just catch.”

I didn't know what she was talking about. I shook my head, and reached for my cracker, but came to the stark realization that my hands couldn't move. My arms were paralyzed.

Shanna put down her wine, and stood up. She was naked from the waist down, and as she made her way to my end of the table, she undid her last remaining button. Spread her shirt wide open, and dropped it to the floor.

“Do you think he'd like these?” she asked. Her breasts were perfect. Perky. Very expensive, too.

“I like them,” I said, and tried to stand, but my legs weren't working either. I needed to get up from my chair, though. I had to. I needed to take Shanna's arms, pin them behind her, take her down right there on the floor of the Huntsman's Cove.

Her trout flinched. Both it and the fork flopped off the plate, and when I looked up, Shanna was gone. The dining room was growing darker, a slow fade, and I still couldn't move.

“Just catch, Maddox. No release,” her voice came from the shadows. But it wasn't her voice at all.

Something sharp slid against my chest. It felt a lot like the tip of a knife. Ah, fuck. She was going to kill me. She was going to stab me right through the heart, right through my lungs.