His Property (His Property, Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read online

  HIS PROPERTY

  (His Property, Book One)

  Hannah Ford

  Contents

  Copyright

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  1. HIS PROPERTY

  Copyright © 2016 by Hannah Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  HIS PROPERTY

  (His Property, Book One)

  LIAM

  She was never supposed to be mine.

  But when I saw those big tits straining against the material of her too-small white t-shirt, her hair in long chestnut curls around her shoulders, her jeans hugging every curve of that tight little body, my dick got rock hard. She was so young and innocent, all bright blue eyes and tan skin. I could tell just from looking at her that she’d never been corrupted --at least not the way I wanted to corrupt her.

  The men – no the boys—at her college wouldn’t be able to appreciate her. I could just imagine their eyes scanning past her at some frat party, passing her over for some reed-thin bubblehead, not realizing that her voluptuous body was made for fucking.

  Her cute little mouth had full lips and her nose turned up just a tiny bit at the tip. I watched through the tinted window of my Lexus as she talked to another girl, throwing her head back and laughing at something the girl said.

  I could almost feel her lips around my cock, her eyes opening in surprise as I pushed all the way into her, making her take me all the way down her throat.

  “How old is she?” I asked her father.

  He was sitting in the backseat.

  “Twenty-one.” He was bouncing up and down, almost hyper, and I did my best to contain my disgust. What kind of man offered his daughter as collateral for a gambling debt? Especially one as beautiful and sexy as the girl I was looking at now.

  What kind of man takes him up on it?

  Now that I’d seen her, the dirty thoughts were coursing through my mind -- the way she’d look laid out on my bed, her hands and legs tied to the bedposts. The sound my whip would make sliding through the air and slapping against her supple skin, how raw the red marks would be, her cries of pleasure as I slid my dick into her tight little channel.

  I imagined unhooking her bra, letting those nice big tits out as I thumbed her nipples, feeling the weight of her lush breasts in my hands, sucking and biting them until she arched her back and screamed.

  My cock pressed against my zipper, begging for a release.

  “Her name is Emery.” The girl’s father leaned forward, studying my face for any sign I wanted to go back on our deal. I could tell he was skeptical, had been from the beginning.

  I ignored him, watched for another minute as a group of frat boys in jeans and baseball hats walked by, ogling her friend and ignoring Emery. They were fools, immature boys who wouldn’t have known how to handle her body.

  And then one of them let his eyes linger on her body, raking his gaze over her lush curves.

  Possessiveness and jealous rage filled my body, shocking in its ferocity.

  I’d never felt anything like it. I’d felt the need to dominate, of course, to make women moan and scream, to whip them, punish them, force them to submit to my every whim.

  But I’d never been jealous. Not even close.

  I gripped the armrest, my knuckles turning white as I fought the urge to open the door and wrestle Joe Frat Boy to the ground.

  “Do we have a deal?” her father asked.

  I glanced at him, already tuning him out.

  All I could think of was her.

  She would be mine.

  Whether she liked it or not.

  EMERY

  Fade in on me, on an early spring night during second semester, dragged to a frat party kicking and screaming (not literally kicking and screaming, obviously, although that might not have been a bad way to go, now that I’d had a chance to think about it) because my friends had somehow convinced me it would be a good idea.

  Come out with us, Emery, they said. You’ll have fun, they promised. You need to loosen up. You’re too uptight, too anal.

  I hated that word, anal. (It made me think of anal sex, and the story I’d written for the school paper last year about all those girls who were saving their virginities so they just had anal sex instead. As if that somehow didn’t count.)

  Anyway, I’d gone to the stupid party and now my friend Maddie and I were standing outside. We’d stepped out for a minute so Maddie could smoke. I thought smoking was a disgusting habit and I was always trying to get her to quit, but anything that minimized my time inside the party was okay by me. At least for tonight.

  “This is so fun,” Maddie said. She drained her plastic cup of beer, which she was trying to keep hidden in case campus security came by. “Isn’t this so fun?”

  “It’s really fun,” I said, because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Maddie and I had been friends since we were little kids. They called us M and M (Get it? Maddie and Emery? And by they, I mean our parents and no one else. But still.)

  “You’re not having fun,” she said, and puffed out her bottom lip in a fake pout.

  “No, I am!”

  A group of guys walked by us, all of them in baseball hats, all of them displaying varying degrees of hotness.

  “Hey, ladies,” one of them said. A swoop of shaggy dark hair drooped over his forehead. “You going inside?”

  “We just came from there,” I said helpfully, but Maddie elbowed me in the side.

  “Yes, we’re going in,” she said.

  “Now?” the boy asked. He dropped back from his friends a bit, the white Westvale University Lacrosse logo on his hat shimmering under the street lights. “Come on, Maddie, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  One of his friends glanced at me with subdued interest, his eyes sliding over me, and I could already tell what he was thinking. The fat girl will be easy.

  I wasn’t fat.

  I knew that.

  But compared to the sea of long tanned legs and flat stomachs that surrounded me, I was. All of the girls here were wearing outfits that would look completely obscene on me. My chest was not made for halter tops or even tank tops. Built-in bras? Please. I might as well be wearing nothing for all the good they did me.

  Maddie grinned at the dark-haired guy. There was a certain familiarity there -- he was probably in one of her classes. “The drinks are free,” she shot back.

  I rolled my eyes. This is what passed for flirting and chivalry these days? Frat guys offering to buy drinks that were free anyway?

  But Maddie acted like he’d just offered to whisk her off to Paris for the weekend or something.

  “Then I’ll get you a free drink,” he said. “Isn’t my company worth something?”

  Maddie started following him down the sidewalk, turning around after a few steps. “You coming?” she asked me.

  “I’ll be there in second.”

  “Oh.” She hesitated, as the guy slipped his hand through hers and quickened his pace, obviously sensing he might be losing his chance to score.

  “Go,” I said honestly. “Seriously, I’m just going to get some more air for a second.”

  She bit her lip.

  “I’m
serious,” I said “Go.”

  “I’ll see you in there?”

  “Yes.” Once she was out of sight I sighed and turned my face to the sky, wondering how much longer I could get away with staying out here.

  I checked my phone.

  It was almost midnight.

  I would probably have to stay at the party until at least one. But if I could spend some of that time out here, say, ten more minutes, then I would only have fifty more minutes inside.

  I took my jacket from where I’d tied it around my waist (much to Maddie’s horror) and put it on, zipping it up over my tight t-shirt.

  The sidewalk was empty. Most people were inside the party already, the guys who had just passed by probably the last stragglers of the night. There wouldn’t be any more people out on the street until after last call now, and that wasn’t until two am.

  The Alpha Chi house was at the end of campus, the last in a line of old brownstones that were designed to looked ornate and elegant in order to give off the impression of old money and stateliness, which was ironic when you considered that the only things that went on inside were drinking and sex.

  There was a full moon, and it was dark and cold out.

  I shivered again and pulled my jacket closer around me, but I wasn’t scared to be out here alone. Our campus had one of the greatest safety ratings in the nation, a fact that touted on every admissions brochure, along with “Only twenty minutes outside of New York City with the feel of a small town!” line they loved to repeat over and over.

  So no, I wasn’t scared.

  Later, I would look back and think I should have been scared. Or at least more aware.

  I would spend countless hours thinking about what would have happened if I’d gone inside with Maddie, how things would have been different, if they even would have been different, or if everything that night happened just as it was supposed to, setting in motion something that wouldn’t have been denied no matter what.

  Because one moment of letting my guard down, one moment of letting myself not pay attention, changed my life forever.

  A shiny black SUV pulled up to the curb, its windows tinted.

  It was probably a beer delivery, I thought, and so I turned on my heel and headed back toward the party. The last thing I needed was to get hit on by some sleazy grad students or worse, be asked to help them unload cases of beer that I wouldn’t even be drinking.

  I’d only taken a couple steps when someone called my name.

  “Emery.”

  It was a familiar voice.

  A very familiar voice.

  The sound of it sent the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.

  I turned around.

  My dad was standing there on the street, at the back of the SUV.

  “Emery,” he said, and he gave me a tentative smile. “Emery, it’s me.”

  I hadn’t seen him in over a year, ever since last Christmas, when he’d somehow found out I was spending the holiday with Maddie and her family, and he’d shown up at her house, totally unannounced and uninvited.

  Maddie’s mom had sprung into action, not making me feel upset or weird about it, even when it was obvious my dad had been drinking, even after he double dipped in the appetizer plate she’d put out. She’d gone upstairs and found a gift for him, wrapped up a Starbucks card and a DVD of The Godfather that someone had given to Maddie’s dad.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked now, taking a step toward him.

  “I came to see you.”

  My heart thrummed in my chest. “Why?” There was only one reason my dad would come to see me. He wanted money. My dad had a wicked gambling addiction, the kind of addiction that always kept him one step away from being homeless.

  “I just wanted to see you.” His voice sounded genuine, but something was off. His eyes were darting around nervously, and he was dressed in a rumpled suit, a strange choice for him. The last I’d heard he’d had a job driving a cab, but a cab driver wouldn’t have been wearing a suit like that. I wondered if he’d been drinking.

  “Dad,” I said. “I don’t have any money.”

  I took another step toward him, and his eyes darted quickly to the back of the SUV. It should have been a tip-off. It should have alerted me to the fact that something weird was going on, although the problem was that with my father, there was always something weird going on.

  “I know you don’t, honey,” he said, and there was a sad, eerie tone in his voice.

  And then, suddenly, the sound of the driver’s side door opening echoed through the night, and heavy footsteps pounded on the pavement.

  I felt someone’s presence behind me and I turned to look, but before I could, the person pinned my arms to my back, and then my dad reached over and opened the back door of the SUV.

  “What the hell?” I yelled.

  The man who was holding me pulled me back toward him, and I felt a hard, broad chest against my back and the scent of woodsy cologne hit my nostrils.

  I pushed back against him, struggling, but his grip on my arms was like a vice.

  “Shh,” he said into my ear. “Shh, it’s easier if you don’t struggle, baby.” His voice was a low growl, and something about it was almost sexy. Goosebumps broke out on my arms and something inside of me, some base instinct, told me to submit to him, to obey him, to do what he said, that he was right that it would be easier if I didn’t struggle.

  But I railed against it as hard as I could and listened to the other side of me, the side of me that told me to fight.

  I screamed at the top of my lungs, louder than I’d ever screamed, my throat going instantly raw. I tried to push against my captor, but he dwarfed me – he must have been at least six-foot-two and close to two hundred pounds.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said, sounding exasperated that I would dare to do something as ridiculous as scream, and then he was picking me up, tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as I slammed my fists into his back as hard as I could. He was wearing a crisp white dress shirt, and I pummeled it as hard as I could, but nothing seemed to affect him.

  He set me down in the backseat of the SUV, then slid in next to me.

  “It’s going to be okay, Emery,” I could hear my dad calling. “Emery, it’s going to be okay. I promise, it’s going to be – ”

  The last part of what he was saying was cut off by the sound of the car door being slammed shut.

  And then I was plunged into darkness.

  The darkness only lasted a moment, and then the automatic lights in the back of the SUV came on, bathing the backseat in dim light.

  “Are you okay?” the man who’d shoved me into the SUV asked. He was sitting next to me on the seat. “Are you hurt?”

  I turned to look behind me, out the back window, but the street was empty. My father was gone.

  My heart was beating hard as my eyes locked back on my captor’s, my breath catching as I took him in, the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. He had dark hair and eyes, his hair perfectly styled. His cheekbones and jaw could have cut glass, his lips full and lush.

  The shirtsleeves of his expensively tailored dress shirt were rolled up, and his wrist was adorned with a shiny gold watch, one that looked ridiculously expensive. I caught a glimpse of the bottom of a tattoo on his muscular forearm.

  My breath caught in my chest.

  “Are you okay?” he repeated.

  His words brought me back to life, and I lunged for the door.

  “It’s locked.” His voice was measured, controlled, no sign of nervousness or haste. I reached for the handle anyway, pulling on it, but of course he was right. It was locked.

  Desperation welled inside of me as tears filled my eyes.

  I turned around and he looked at me, his face softening.

  “Can I trust you to stay quiet back here?” he asked.

  I nodded, but it was a lie. Of course he couldn’t trust me to stay quiet.

  He studied my face for any sign that I
was lying.

  He nodded as if he’d accepted I was telling the truth, but then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something shiny, something metal that glinted even under the muted overhead lights.

  Handcuffs.

  I opened my mouth and screamed again, twisting my body and kicking on the back door of the SUV, the one that was on the side closest to the street. But the street was empty, and I knew the windows of the car were tinted. The only chance I had was to scream loud enough to be heard, no easy feat when the bass from seven different frat parties drifted up and down the block.

  My captor grabbed my wrists and pinned them behind my back, sliding me back on the seat so that my feet couldn’t reach the door anymore. I realized too late I should have gone for the windows, should have tried to kick out the glass.

  I moaned, mourning my lost chance as he pulled me closer to him, my back pressed tight to his chest.

  “I’m going to handcuff you now,” he said into my ear.

  I shoved my hands under my ass on the seat. “Fuck you.”

  “Emery,” he said, sighing. He sounded almost resigned, like this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. “This will be a lot easier if you don’t fight.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” I said. “The first thing psychos do is tell you is not to fight. Then they take you to a remote location and kill you.”

  “I am not taking you to a remote location. And I’m not going to kill you.”

  “Like you’d tell me if you were.”

  He rolled his eyes and loosened his grip on my wrists just a tiny bit, and immediately I lunged my body toward the other side of the car and tried to kick him in the face. I knew the statistics – you had a much better chance of survival if you could stay at the place where you were abducted. Once you were taken somewhere else, you were toast.

  The man sighed, then grabbed my foot as I pulled back to kick him, his grip like a vice. I was a strong girl, and I was kicking with all my might, but he held me like it was nothing.