Controlling Interests: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Book 2) by Lana Grayson

the bar over my head.
    “Restraints in a gym?” I whispered.
    He shifted behind me. His stare tickled like a caress against my curves. “Wrist wraps, for lifting.”
    “Oh.”
    “You wandered into a perfect playroom, baby.”
    That I did, and I wasn’t sure if I regretted it yet. I squirmed. Max looped my leash over the bar, forcing my chin higher. He admired his work.
    “You make a beautiful captive.”
    “Do you really consider me a prisoner?”
    “You really want an honest answer?” He pressed against me. His hardened cock throbbed, aching for a promised release. “Nick’s not here to save you.”
    “I don’t need to be saved.”
    “You sure about that?”
    Yes. He wouldn’t save me anyway. Nicholas was too obsessed with securing my safety. He’d impregnate me any way he could, even if it meant using his brothers.
    Even if it meant breaking me to conquer everyone else.
    Max demanded my submission with a sharp spank. But Nicholas?
    How could I deny a man who twisted my hatred into passion and healed me with undeniable love? He ruled me, just as he’d rule over the Bennetts, the Atwoods, and all the world if he so chose. And, as a symbol of his control, he gave me to others. A taste, he called it.
    Maybe he meant to create an heir to steal my company.
    Maybe he thought it was the only way to save me.
    But I understood him now. Nicholas offered me because he liked it. He savored the power he held over his brothers—not only in his orders to take me, but in their borrowed indulgences.
    Nicholas was proud to pull me from beneath them and return me to his bed under his authority. No matter what they did, his brothers were left with only the memory of my skin against theirs.
    And Max played into his hands, either willingly or because he had no other choice.
    Not that it mattered when he had a naked woman bound for his entertainment.
    Max parted from me to retrieve an item I’d either love or hate. How cruel did he plan to be today?
    “Jump rope.” He tucked the wooden handle under my chin. The rope tightened in his fists, the beaded, plastic kind I remembered from when I was a kid. “Hate these things.”
    The last time I tangled in jump rope, I fell and chipped a baby tooth. Josiah and Mike thought it was hysterical.
    “I’m not a fan either,” I said.
    “It’s hard on my leg.” Max positioned behind me. “I do it anyway.”
    “Why?”
    “Gotta have pain to see improvement.”
    That wasn’t it. I knew better.
    “You mean, you punish yourself because you’re in pain,” I said.
    The rope whistled through the air before it struck, and the dozens of beads connected with my back in a sharp, blinding crack.
    I surged forward, but the restraints trapped me. I shrieked. Max loved the sound.
    Served me right. I shouldn’t have pried into his head.
    But that didn’t mean I’d stop.
    “Easy, baby,” Max whispered. “We’re just getting started.”
    “I can take it. Can you?”
    “I told you not to tempt me.”
    “Answer my question,” I said. “All this work, it’s not just exercise.”
    The jump rope whipped as unforgiving as any belt. The snap of the beads scared me more than the sting, but I lurched forward as the rope sliced harsh against the tender flesh of my hips.
    The bruises that faded would be replaced. My pale skin no longer freckled with the dusting of innocence, but flushed against the constant threat of punishment, humiliation, and sadism.
    Max dug his fingers into the welts where the rope kissed. “Why else would I exercise? If you’re calling me vain…you might be right.”
    “It’s not vanity.”
    “You don’t think I look good?” He fisted my hair. “Baby, you just voluntarily offered your ass to get whipped. Don’t lie. You fucking love how strong I am.”
    The lick of the jump rope couldn’t compare to the threat of his hands. Nothing stilled me as effectively as his grip over my neck. I warmed in ways I shouldn’t have warmed, but I stopped trying to