Free Riding Steele: Collide by Opal Carew Page A

weekend at a big house he had in the country. The house was beautiful, but she didn’t get to enjoy it much. The first day, he’d dragged her into a small bedroom and bound her wrists and ankles to the bed, then had sex with her. Then he’d just left her there.
    A couple of hours later, he’d come back and taken her again, then gave her some food. When it became clear he wasn’t going to let her free, she told him she wanted to end this, but he simply said, “Silence, slave,” and shoved a ball gag into her mouth. He’d fucked her one more time that evening, then left her alone in the darkness all night long.
    In the morning, he’d dragged her from the bed and bound her to what he called a punishment bench, where she was bent over the padded, wooden frame, forcing her naked ass into the air, then he’d slapped her. Hard. Over and over again until her ass burned.
    Afterward, when she’d told him how upset his actions had made her, he’d apologized, telling her he’d thought she’d wanted the whole immersion scenario, that he’d thought it had turned her on. He’d promised that he’d be more careful in the future.
    She’d reluctantly continued seeing him, but he was attentive and seemed genuinely sorry for his mistake in judgment. For a while. But then they had slipped back into the Dominant-submissive roles and things started to derail again. What caused her to finally break it off with him was when during sex, he’d wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed so tight, she almost passed out. He seemed to enjoy the total panic in her eyes, and her obvious sense of complete helplessness. That was the final straw.
    She sank into the seat and let the movement of the car lull her as she watched the water stream down the window beside her. She was safe now. She shivered inside. At least, from the bikers.
    She seemed to have dozed off because she awoke with a start when the car came to a stop. She peered out the window but the rain hadn’t let up and everything outside was blurred. But it didn’t look like she was at a police station. She thought she could make out trees, and some shadowy shapes approached the car.
    The officer in the front seat glanced back at her in the mirror.
    “Wait here, ma’am.” He opened the car door and stepped out.
    “Hey, Killer. So you found her?”
    She stiffened. That sounded like Rip’s voice.
    A moment later, the door beside her swung open and Steele glared at her.
    “What the hell were you thinking?”
    The policeman put his arm in front of Steele. “Now, Steele, give her a minute until you cool off.”
    Steele’s eyes narrowed. “Screw that.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her from the car. Her heart pounded loudly as he dragged her into the house.
    “Why did that police officer bring me back here when I told him you kidnapped me?” she asked as he tugged her up the stairs. “And how did he know you were here?”
    “Killer is a friend of your brother’s.”
    They reached the top of the stairs and he pulled her down the hall.
    “Killer? Is he even a real cop?” she asked.
    “People around here know his as Officer Grainger, but Rip knew him when he was an undercover cop in a criminal gang. Killer was his ride name. About six months ago, he decided he’d had enough of that life. He moved here with his new wife and became friends with your brother.”
    He pushed her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. “But that’s not what I want to talk about right now.”
    He stared at her, his breathing heavy. They both stood there dripping on the hardwood floor.
    “I’m going to ask you again, what the hell were you thinking?” he demanded.
    The expression on his face was more anxious than angry, she realized, but when he took a step toward her, she jerked back.
    “Ah, fuck, really?” He glared at her as he strode closer. “I’ve done everything I can to prove to you that I won’t take you against your will, but you still don’t believe me.”