A small adjustment of his foot sends a spine-curling shiver shooting up my back. He’s closer than ever before and I can feel his warm breath on my skin. He’s making it clear he wants me and that alone is a turn-on. I’ve wanted someone to want me this way since The Professor. The intensity could be frightening to most, but it’s causing my tummy to turn with an aching need. Maybe I’m not like most girls, after all. His arm drops to his side, taking the knife with it, paralysing my entire body. I daren’t move. The only change is that of my nipples as the chill of the apartment, coupled with my arousal, causes them to grow into taut peaks. The sensation alone has me crying out inside, begging him to touch me, to relieve the ever growing throb between my legs.
When he finally breaks the stare, it’s to allow his eyes to roam my body as he drags his tongue across his bottom lip. Oh, shit. Daggs sucks the soft pink of his lip, his eyes on mine the whole time as he silently builds me up into a frenzy. His look of approval shines brighter than anything I've ever seen before, and the press of his erection against my thigh tells me everything else I need to know. He's turned on. I've turned him on. Even more so when he presses his erection harder into my leg as he leans over and growls in my ear, “Stay still.”
My breath catches in my throat, disabling me from screaming out for him to stop. I should say it, but I can’t. For a few moments, I just stand there, holding my breath with anticipation. From the corner of my eye, the blade catches my attention, its excruciatingly slow movement towards my body setting me on pins. The closer it gets, the warier I become. Maybe I was too naive this time. The cold tip of the blade touches the middle of my breast bone, instinctively causing my head to dip and anxiously watch it hover over my torso. I need to stop this.
Before I have time to say anything, his hand yanks my chin back up at the same time as the blade slices through the middle of my bra, freeing my breasts. The breath I was holding escapes me as a huge gasp of relief.
While my chin continues to rest in his hand, he swiftly hooks the blade under the side of my knickers and slashes through the thin, lacy material. As he repeats his action at the other side, my knickers fall to the ground in the same way my bra did. I’m completely naked, and for the first time since he walked in here, I’m feeling my old feisty self return.
I attempt to smirk back with a hand on my hip as I give it a playful jut. “That all you got, big shot?" But there’s a wobble to my voice, which I instantly kick myself for.
There’s a moment’s hesitation where I don’t think he was expecting quite that response.
Then he snaps.
Without warning, his mouth greedily locks with mine. One of his strong arms wraps around my waist, whisking me up onto the wooden worktop. I want this man and he wants me. My legs wrap around his waist and the heels of my feet dig into his arse to steady my body in position. The thickness of his cock has my mind wandering and my body reacting with raw, primal need. He tears his mouth away from mine long enough to allow him to stab the knife, upright, into the work surface at the side of me. It makes me flinch with need.
He grips my head tightly in his hands, calmly holding it still, and breathes into my face. “You’re mine now, Rider.”
Twenty-Five
July 2003
Daggs is quite a simple man when it comes to the colour of his apartment and even though I shouldn’t draw comparisons, I can’t help but think of Rob’s place. Everything here is plain, even down to the duvet covers, with a recurring theme of beige, black and red. He does, however, seem to like his gadgets. All the equipment is high end and he's up to date on every piece of technology. He's quite protective of it all, too. I go anywhere near the television remote, he's quick to remove it from me.
It's worked out quite well because it's given me the time I need with my map of Europe, to plan my bike ride route. I have asked Daggs to help me, but every time I do, he doesn't seem interested. He comes and goes quite a lot during the day. God knows what his job is. I have tried to ask, but he's not forthcoming in that, either. I can’t allow myself to fall into that trap again like I did with Rob. If he doesn't want to speak, that's fine. It’s his choice, but it doesn't do much to stop me from being frightened. The urge to stay with Daggs is getting stronger by the second and I’m not sure how much longer I can fight it. I can feel it lurking and the sooner I get out of Manchester, the better.
“Hey," I say, sauntering into the living area and slumping down on the sofa next to him. "So, you know I’ve been talking about that road trip. I’ve been looking at this map and putting some plans together. I was hoping you might look over them with me. My sense of direction is crap.”
“Rider, I’m busy right now. We’ll sort it later.”
"You're watching TV." I frown.
"Like I said, I'm busy."
Placing the map on my lap, I half turn to face him, taking a deep breath before I speak. “But… That’s what you said yesterday and the day before.”
“And like I keep telling you. I’m busy.” His gaze never leaves the screen. It's frustrating as hell. I just wish he would crack that mean looking grimace and show a little bit more emotion.
“Okay,” I reply flatly as I stand back up. He doesn't want to help so I'll just do it myself. It seems to do the trick, catching his attention as his head rolls to one side.
“Pick your chin up. We’re going out tonight, down my club. I need you there with me.”
“What club?" I ask carefully.
“A club I go to. I need my Rider there. I can focus better when you’re around. Go get ready.”
"But I'm not in the mood to go out. I want to get these plans finished."
"It wasn't a request."
Though I should probably be surprised by his demand, I'm not. It seems to be the way he speaks to all those around him. Daggs is a man who knows what he wants and at this time, whether it's right or wrong, I am what he wants.
“You’re crazy,” I whisper.
“And you’re my girl. Now put that shit away and sort yourself out. I need you looking fucking good.”
No one has referred to me as theirs in such a long time.
“Alright. But do you promise after this you will help me?”
“Sure.”
Making my way back to the bedroom, I stop in my tracks, remembering what else I needed to ask him.
“Oh, while I remember, did you sort that new phone for me?”
“Working on it.”
“It’s no biggie. I can go buy one.” I shrug.
“Rider, I said I’m working on it. Now go get fucking ready.”
“I’m going. Keep your hair on. Oh wait, you haven’t got any.” I giggle to try and lighten the mood before tiptoeing away to do as I've been asked.
It doesn't look like I'm any closer to getting hold of Izzy, not that it matters for tonight. I'm someone else's right now and even though it hurts, I'll allow myself to hide away in that corner of my mind and pretend all the other bad stuff doesn't even exist.
*******
I have no idea if I'm wearing the right thing or not. Daggs says I'm lucky I made it out of the house in this tight red dress with black heels. My long, brown hair has been curled into loose waves that now hang over my shoulders. I desperately try to jog my memory to recall the girls from the party that night, but I come up blank. There's nothing there at all apart from that man's face.
I've been praying all the way over that Ethan won't be here, but I don't hold out much hope. Tommy, Daggs’ right hand man, has mentioned him in passing a few times, so my guess is that they're mates, which makes me feel even more disgusted by my actions. The thought of bumping into him has me on edge, along with the sight of the club.
There's a long queue around the block, even though the place looks like a dive and it doesn't seem to be anything special at all from the outside. The more closely I inspect the droves of people, the more I'm shocked by how little some of the girls are wearing. It makes my dress look like a gown. There are hot pants, bras,
neon face paint... That's when the flashback hits me. That's what the girls from the club were wearing last week at the rave.
Walking alongside Daggs, it becomes obvious he doesn't intend on queuing. All it takes is a handshake with the two bouncers on the door and in we go.
"Do you work here or something?"
"Something. Now stop asking questions, Rider. You're here to look good and have fun."
Yeah, right. Have fun. Easier said than done when I’m surrounded by all these people I don't know. Maybe it's misguided, but I do trust I'll be looked after while I'm here with him. Especially due to the tight grip his hand now has on my waist as if he's claiming me.
The music is deafening and the beat is heavy on the bass. I have to stop myself from looking down at the ground and seeing what my expensive heels are currently wading through. I struggle to stop them from sticking to the floor as I walk. Every guy we meet along the way seems to know Daggs. He's throwing head nods out right, left and centre. People move aside to let him through no matter where he goes.
As we make our way over to the back of the club, we slip through a door marked 'private' and my heart starts to race. Where the hell is he taking me? Where are we going? It's even darker back here and the corridor is pretty long. The film The Green Mile springs to mind. I attempt to slow down, but Daggs soon drags me along by my arm. I try to focus on how he keeps saying I'm his. Surely no harm will come to me while I'm with him. Surely I'm on the safe side of him instead of the wrong side.
When the door is flung open, I glance over to a large snooker table in the middle of the room. There are a few men and girls scattered about and a bar tucked away in the corner. It's dimly lit and is decorated in the same red colour as Daggs’ apartment. His grip on my waist never falters as he pulls me over towards a leather sofa where some girl is draped all over a guy like he’s her everything.
"Now then, lad," Daggs drones.
It startles the girl, and as her long, blonde locks shift to one side, her face comes into view, causing my eyes to widen with shock. She looks terrible, her cheeks are gaunt and I have no clue where her eyes have disappeared to. It was the last thing I expected to see when she turned around and I’m instantly filled with sympathy for her. I can’t stop the visions flashing through my mind of myself, sat in that same position in a few years time. There’s no way I want to end up like that.
“Daggs.” The guy nods before his gaze drifts to me. "Who's your friend?"
The way his eyes greedily rake over my body frightens me even more than the poor girl that is desperately attached to him.
"My girl, Rider," he claims.
"Nice to meet you, Rider." He grins.
My stomach sinks to my expensive shoes with the god-awful grin he is flashing me. The only thing that’s keeping me standing right now is the big brute of a man by my side who is claiming me as his. At least I know I’ll be safe while people know I’m with him, but it makes me realise I know nothing about these people, nor their relationships. I'm suddenly even more scared. I want to get out of here and go home. Now.
Twisting with my hand on his shoulder, I whisper into Daggs' ear. "I'm not feeling well. I think I need to go home."
"Not a chance."
"I'm serious, Daggs. I need to go home."
He grabs my hand, pulling me to one side quickly like he's angry, but I don’t care. This whole place and situation is making me feel downright uneasy.
"’Ere. Take this," he demands, shoving a pill in my hand.
"No. I'm not in the mood. I just want to go home."
His tone softens a little. "Take the fucking thing. I swear it will take the edge off and make you relax the fuck up."
"But, I don't want to," I mutter weakly, knowing full well the mistakes I could be repeating if I go ahead with this again.
"Rider..." His hands find my face, his thumbs brush over my cheeks. "Take it. I promise it will work. Then you and I can have a good night. I’ll keep you safe.”
There's that promise along with a softer side of him again.
"But... "
"You're mine now. I've got you."
And with those words, I sigh heavily, my shoulders sagging as I give in and do exactly as he says.
Twenty-Six
July 2004
I must have taken a wrong turn. I’m completely lost. I have always said my sense of direction is poor. It seems like I ran through every red light to get to this point. The brakes just wouldn’t work, or maybe someone just cut the cord and sent me spiralling to Hell, because I’m pretty certain that’s where I’m currently heading.
This part of Hell needs no name; it's pretty much the same as all the other parts of Hell in Manchester. Full of the same people, week in, week out, all of whom are searching for a good time. It just depends on who you are and where you come from as to what that good time means. Out of town people travelling up for the weekend are usually here to experience the buzz of the music and the different DJs. The students are, more often than not, naive idiots who don't have a clue what they're dealing with, and then there are the wannabes. They think they know everything about everything and nine times out of ten, they don't, which gets them caught out by a stupid mistake, costing them more than they ever realised it would. What category do I fall into? That one's easy. All of them. I'm seeking a buzz. I'm a naïve idiot. I don't have a clue what I'm dealing with, and I'm a wannabe. This whole journey has cost me everything, including whom I am and who I was.
None of my life lessons have prepared me for this road trip. I take one tablet after another after another. If I'm sad, I take one. If I'm happy, I take more. If the effects are wearing off, I take another. I just can't stop, but at least I got my wishes granted. Physically, I'm never alone. That has to count for something, right? Daggs is with me most of the time. I'm lucky if I'm allowed out of his sight, and when I am, I'm never far from him because he has eyes everywhere, watching my every move.
Tonight is no different. He's out and about in the club, pushing drugs on any willing victim while I'm left to entertain myself in the company of his 'friends'.
So, I take another tablet.
My head rests back on the sofa, swaying from side to side while my mind is lost to the euphoric hum of the bass. I couldn't give a shit who is sat next to me or what rubbish they're talking about now. I'm in my little bubble – the one place Daggs can't invade.
"Rider, you okay?" A deep voice comes from the side of me.
I don't open my eyes, mumbling out a slow moan of acknowledgment in return.
"That's not what your legs are saying, love." He laughs.
"Sure," I whisper in reply, not understanding anything anyone is doing or saying.
Who even cares about anyone else right now? Not me. The minutes just roll on by, my body feeling looser, the thoughts and worries of the past drifting away into some area of subspace that I don't even know exists. I don't need legs there. I don't need anybody there. It's only when the persistent chuckling beside me starts to annoy me too much that I roll my eyes open and peer down my body.
That's when I realise nothing seems attached. My legs are jiggling, even though I can't feel them. I sit and watch them for a while, lost in thought as to why they could be that way, happily listening to the music and enjoying the euphoric buzz. The more time passes, the more I realise I might need the bathroom, but I’m not sure I have the inclination to move from my bubble. A few more moments pass as I muster up the energy to stand. The room begins to spin in time to the music, but all I’m feeling is the tingles fluttering across my skin.
Once I manage to focus my vision, my eyes ping to life, fully appreciating my surroundings. There are people everywhere, dancing, chatting, drinking. Just watching them all looking alive and having fun makes me feel happy. The smile creeps from my cheeks to my eyes, and I’m so lost in people watching that I don’t see the blonde girl walking past me until I bump into her.
“Oops, sorry.” I giggle.
She just brushes me
off and tries to walk on by, but her blonde hair captures my attention.
“Izzy?” I blink and she ignores me.
“Izzy, wait,” I call after her.
She turns to answer. “Who?”
“Izzy, it’s me, Paris.” I grab at her hand like we used to when we were kids.
“I’m not Izzy,” she replies bluntly, yanking her hand from me as she slides past. Then I hear her mutter the words, “Crazy cow.”
Watching her walk away into the crowd, I remember I need the bathroom and sway my way through the people towards the door. My mood has plummeted from ecstatic to miserable in one bump of the shoulder. She looked like Izzy, and it only reminds me all over again of the absence of her in my life. Pushing the cubicle door open, I collapse onto the toilet at the same time as my head falls to my chest. Back in my bubble, my thoughts drift off to flashbacks of Izzy and I as kids and all the mischievous things we used to get up to.
I’m lost in countless memories until my body jumps with a start when there’s a loud bang on the door, followed by an even louder shout. "Will you hurry up in there? Some of us are desperate out here."
Dragging my head back up, I realise they’re talking to me. "Coming," I mumble and stumble to open the door, not paying any attention to the girls stood in front of me.
"It's about fucking time," one of them snipes as they both brush past, causing me to hobble again. I fling my hand out to the wall to steady myself from falling flat on the floor.
Paris Hemsworth's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 2) Page 17
