by Abbie Adams
"Hasta luego."
Sunny flushed as heat flooded her and she didn't think it was because she was squashed between two strange men in a compact car in the middle of a foreign country. It was more likely to do with the fact she could feel the big man staring down at her and she was pretty sure the confusing words that rolled off his tongue had something to do with her and why she was in this vehicle.
Fear was morphing into terror. If she were smarter, she would have been afraid a lot sooner. Sunny didn't have to look to know he was staring at her; she could feel it. Her cheeks were hot and so were the tips of her ears—and she didn't think it was sunburn. She hadn't had time to get burned. Shaking her head, she shrugged away from him when he lifted his hand to trace the top of her ear with his fingertip.
"Don't…"
"You will not pull away from me, niña soleado." His voice was low and firm and affected something deep within her. Each word was clearly spoken in an accent. She understand that niña meant girl and whatever that last word had been had sounded a little sexy.
What? How can I think anything about this is sexy! Her eyes darted up to see his lips curling into a self-satisfied grin and her face burned when he ran his fingertip over the crest of her ear. Her blood raced, not with desire but with fear when he chuckled at her reaction to that simple touch.
His obvious dominance was scaring her. It wasn't the dominance she'd craved. He wasn't a man she wished to submit to. He… he was not her Daddy. She fought back tears wishing for something that could never be.
Was he with the drug cartel? The Mafia? What was it? With the same hand he used to touch her ear, he ran his fingers through strands of her white-blonde hair before fisting the strands and pulling her onto his lap.
"No! Leave me alone," she cried out, shocked at how effortless the motion had been for him.
"¡Callarse! Enough. You will not speak to me like this." He continued to move and adjust her so that her back was to the door and she was seated on his log-like thighs. It was hard not to look at him like this. She was at his face level and he had startling blue eyes she didn't expect for a man of Latin blood. They were perhaps brighter because of the rim of sooty eyelashes. A day's growth of dark stubble covered his squared jawline.
She didn't like the hungry look in his sharp eyes, so quickly tore her eyes from his hypnotizing stare, looking down at the neck of his gray silk shirt instead. She felt naked; her simple bikini didn't cover nearly enough skin. As if to show he was aware of her thoughts, his finger came to the crest of her rapidly rising and falling breast. He traced the fabric very near her hardened nipple and she gasped, realizing the hard peak showed clearly through the skimpy material. Why was it doing that? She surely couldn't possibly be turned on by this brute?
Sunny pushed his hand away, disgusted at his touch. All at once the arm that she didn't realize was supporting her around her back shifted. His hand on her thigh popped out and smacked her bare thigh hard. Once, twice, three times.
"Ow! Stop!" She shoved at him and struggled to scoot away but he easily grasped her hands together in his and kept her encircled tightly in his arms. Now with both of her hands captured tightly in the one of his, he resumed tracing the trail along her breast.
"You will be very careful what you do or say to me, unless you find your pleasure by way of pain. I will do what I like, when I like and there is nothing you can do to stop me." With that announcement, of which she understood every single word, he slowly and very deliberately pushed first one cup of her top aside and then the other, freeing her breasts from their confinement.
"No, please…" She wiggled, trying to free her hands, but it was no use. All it did was jiggle her breasts lewdly before him. Not wanting to give him that satisfaction, she instantly froze but couldn't stop her chest from heaving as she fought to appear calm. He grinned as her breasts continued to rise and fall, his fingers now caressing even more of her bare skin.
"Sunny and yet cold as well?" he said. She thought he was making a rude comment about her pebbled nipple but his next words confused her even more. "Sunny Winters… no, it should be Winters Sunny."
He rolled her nipple between his thick thumb and finger. "Sí, you should go from cold to hot, es verdad?" Clamping her jaw shut, determined not to make a sound, she heard a whimper escape. Her body was traitorous and even the nipple that wasn't being tweaked tightened to stand at attention for him. He pinched one rosy nipple, squeezing it until she cried out.
"Ahh! Sir, please!" She bucked on his lap, kicking Jorge.
Both men ignored her struggle, the larger man dipping his head to circle her aching bud with his tongue just before latching onto the pink tip of her nipple with his mouth. His mouth was warm and wet, and his rough manner sent spiraling currents of electricity straight to her core. Her bikini had ridden up her slit from her wiggling and her heart pounded with the knowledge that it was wet. It was crazy that her body would react to this stranger when she was appalled and terrified.
The man spoke, again in Spanish, and she would have thought he was talking to her, except Jorge responded. He was on a cell phone and talking to the man who held her. If only she could understand. He finally stopped tweaking her sensitive nipples to look at his watch. The men continued to speak, leaving her confused altogether, but whatever it was they discussed seemed to please them. Finally the large man holding her, pulled the cups of her suit into the proper position to cover her nakedness and released her hands.
She was so confused, her emotions mixed but thankfully he was done playing her like an instrument and discarding her accordingly. She would give anything to understand the conversation going on around her. Wait, that part sounded familiar. She remembered those words. "Did you say airport? Plane? Aeropuerto? Avion?"
"Sí, you like to fly, no?"
"No! I mean, yes, but I can't fly with you. I have to go home." This was just crazy. She shouldn't even be in a car with these people. There was no way in hell that she should get onto an airplane! Where was Tiff when she needed her? A crazy thought entered her mind as she wondered if this… this terror would count as living a little.
The big man smiled, a sadistically sexy grin. "My airplane will take you home, little one." She had the briefest moment of hope until he continued. "You will go home with me."
Chapter Four
For the briefest moment she thought an airport would be good. If the airport was anywhere near as crowded as it had been upon her arrival, there would be hundreds of people milling about. Surely at least a few would understand English. Forget that! Every person, no matter what nationality, would have to wonder why a small, blonde woman was struggling against the hold of a much larger man. And then, of course, there was the fact that she was dressed in a skimpy bikini and nothing else! This may be a tropical vacation spot, but there had to be at least some sort of dress code and the airport was not the beach. Despite any language barriers, they'd have to understand her desperate signal for help to get her away from this crazy, man, no matter how handsome or sane he appeared.
But wait, he said his plane. Did that mean they weren't going to a real airport? Was the car heading for some remote airstrip carved out of the forest used by drug smugglers? Hell, forget drugs—these men were obviously involved in a far more nefarious crime of smuggling human beings into… what? Slavery? This was the twentieth century, women didn't just get kidnapped every day. It was safe to travel to popular places like Cancun—right? Suddenly a documentary she'd recently seen flashed into her head. Scenes from the film played in her mind and not a single one was from eons ago. No, each one was filmed in vivid Technicolor, the cars, fashions, and locations all existing in this very same century. Oh, God, it seemed that human trafficking still existed in these modern times!
Why couldn't she just faint dead away like they did in the movies? No, she didn't want to faint, she wanted to wake up. This had to be nothing more than a nightmare. She should pinch herself. No, he just had pinched her and it had hurt. Surely that would hav
He shifted her again as a bouncing polka-like sound announced a call from his cell phone and he snapped it to his ear. "Mateo."
She had to figure out how to get away from this Neanderthal. Looking out the window again, she saw older buildings passing by in a blur.
"Bueno," he said as he snapped his phone closed again.
The car finally slowed and turned onto a ramp by a guard tower. The driver rolled the window down as he pulled nearer. There were fences on all sides. They'd reached the airport already. Could she somehow get the guard's help? She ducked down to try to make eye contact with him as he laughed with the driver, but it was too late—they pulled away. Mateo evidently wasn't kidding: she was going with them in his airplane.
They drove through a maze of fences and lined pavement to a hanger where a smaller plane was waiting. Yes, waiting. Its engine was on and it was loud. Another man came down the stairs of the plane as they pulled up and opened the door for the man holding her. He handed Sunny out first, and climbed out behind. For a split second she considered running, but there was nowhere to run. Perhaps if she made it to one of the open hangars, she could hide… No. With the expanse of runways and wide open space, she'd never make it.
The opportunity was over before she'd really had time to consider it anyway. The second man's fingers locked on her arm in an instant and then her captor was at her side again and had her other arm. The pavement under her bare feet was blistering hot and she yipped and danced from foot to foot. When he realized her predicament, the brute lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. A cave man had more finesse.
"Let me go, you great hulking monster!" She kicked her legs and pounded on his back. "You can't do this."
"¡Callarse!" He slapped her bottom hard, shocking her into silence with one hearty swat. She yelped and the other man chuckled as Mateo headed to the plane and mounted the three steps. When he came to the actual door, he slid her down the front of his body to stand in front of him. He had to duck to fit through the opening. She was placed on her feet inside the plane to walk the rest of the way on her own. She had no chance to attempt to duck around him and even if she had, the stairs were blocked by the other man. Mateo gave her another grin as if able to read her thoughts and shook his head. "No," he said firmly.
Guiding her with a hand on her arm, he led her down the aisle until they reached the seats. "¡Sentarse!" When she just looked up at him, he shook his head and pushed her down onto one of the seats. Why was this language so hard to decipher? Phrases were said in a backward fashion and as for verbs, geeze, how did one ever remember all the different tenses? Well, at least she could add another Spanish word to her growing vocabulary. She now knew that she was meant to shut up and sit down. Too bad she didn't know how to say 'fuck you'. But, perhaps it wouldn't be a good idea to mention that phrase even if she knew it. He might take it as an invitation. When he chuckled again at her glare, she wondered if perhaps he was fully capable of understanding the silent words of her body language. Dragging her eyes from his, she looked around her newest prison cell.
The inside of this plane was nothing like the airbus she had flown to Mexico on. Though the plane was much smaller, the seats were much larger, almost like leather recliners. There was no line of people standing in the aisles as they waited for the other passengers to stow their bags and squeeze into tiny seats. Not only was there no line, there were only eight seats in total waiting for travelers to sit back in comfort.
The man who assisted them out of the car was already closing and locking the door and the plane was moving. Sunny's stomach clenched in dread. Where were they going? The moment the wheels left the ground, she'd have no idea of where she was. Cancun might as well as be on the moon once they took flight. How would she ever get home? Suddenly, another thought pushed the question of their destination aside. Why—why her? Was it because she had obviously been alone on her so-called vacation? Was it because not only was she going through her life alone, she'd been stupid enough to travel to a foreign country by herself?
The big man spoke in a low voice to Jorge and the other thug who closed the door. She couldn't understand a thing. They were speaking so fast. Sinking down in her seat, silent tears trailed down her cheeks. What was she going to do? She was nobody, just a librarian from the United States. She wasn't some rich heiress whose family would willingly fork over millions of dollars for her safe return. No one even knew she was gone. The tears flowed faster. This would never have happened if she would have stayed at home with her books. The only consolation she could think of was that at least Tiffany was still safe at home. While Sunny had no one to care if she disappeared off the very face of the earth, Tiffany had two adorable little boys who needed their mommy and Tom, her loving husband. She was safe in the bosom of her family while her best friend was in danger of having far more than her breasts pawed by a man who seemed to go from giving her a smile of amusement to giving her a glare of absolute authority that warned of impending… what? She couldn't even bring herself to allow those thoughts to continue.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, she laid her head on them. She didn't know how long the flight really took because it seemed she was startled awake only a few moments later. Only she wasn't in her seat nor was she on the chaise lounge on the beach. Instead, she was cradled on his lap again. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, images came of him holding her and tenderly smoothing her hair back. Feelings of safety and comfort quickly fled when he lifted her to her feet. His hand was on her arm again.
"Come," he barked.
She stumbled groggily behind him through the door and into the light outside. Another smaller airport. Another car. Another waiting Mexican. At the bottom of the stairs, he picked her up this time not so rudely over his shoulder, but not with any greater finesse either. He wrapped a beefy arm around her middle, and left her legs just sort of dangling as hefted her against his side. She felt like an awkward toddler being hauled off her feet due to being unable to keep up with his long strides. Once at the car, he unceremoniously put her in the back seat again with Jorge and climbed in next to her. Pressed between the two men, she had nowhere to go and this time both front seats were occupied with hit men, men from the Mexican Mafia, drug cartel kingpins or—no, she had to consider what they truly were—kidnappers of innocent women too stupid to stay home.
They drove for a half hour or so, over dusty dirt roads, through a couple smaller towns and through some foothills. They finally came to a gated, Spanish style, mustard-yellow villa on the ocean and the car drove through the slowly opening gates. A glance behind showed them closing again, locking her in on the wrong side. When the car came to a stop in the circle drive in front of the house, she knew it was the end of the trek. She didn't have time to admire the impressive stone and marble work as she was hauled out of the car and hustled inside the arched doorway.
"You have to…" his words stumbled and he stopped in the middle of the great hall and looked at her for a moment as if in confusion. The other men had disappeared as soon as they'd arrived. Her captor started walking again, pulling her along without finishing whatever he wanted to say.
He took Sunny into a huge bedroom, fit for royalty. The floor was art in itself. She thought it must be custom work for it was surely one of a kind. The beautiful stonework was laid in an intricate pattern of gold and teal. The walls were painted gold and the massive dark stained bed took up a great deal of floor space. Ornamental carved vines and scrolls decorated the four thick, tall posts, the intricate pattern repeated in the carvings across the headboard. Sheer fabric, woven with sparkling threads of what appeared to be real gold cloaked it on all sides.
"Come," he snapped, drawing her out of her perusal. "Here, you go." He dragged her into a bathroom that was even more glamorous. It could be featured on the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.
"Oh, the bathroom. Yes, thank you." The moment she stepped into the room, her bladder made its presence known. She blushed understanding that he must have been aware of her squirming during the final car ride. She stood awkwardly waiting for him to leave.
"Sí, baño. You, go now." He pointed at the toilet, with an impatient look in his sharp blue eyes and his strong chin jerked in a nod.
"I will. Can you just go out there, and can I have my bag? I need my dress. Need some more clothes." She gestured with her hands trying to shoo him away.
"No, you go now." He stepped forward, directing her to the toilet. Before she could react, he'd reached for her bikini bottoms and tugged them down. "You won't need clothes here. ¡Sentarse!" He pressed her down to sit on the toilet.
"I know, comprende sentarse… um, sit, but please, stop!" she cried, embarrassment filling her. "Go away, please. I can do this myself." Using one hand, she slapped at his hands while using her other to try to tug her bathing suit back up. Ignoring her feeble attempts to stop him, he locked an arm around her waist again. This time he hoisted her completely off her feet, holding her tight as he pulled the suit bottom down again and then off her flailing legs all together, once again placing her onto the toilet.
"You don't need it. Now, your top," he demanded as he reached for the bikini top. "You will do as I say. You are here to please me. Mi zorra."
"No!" She didn't even care to know what those foreign words meant. Just the way he said them had her placing her hands over her breasts.
"You will not tell me no." He grabbed her arm and pulled her off the commode, out of the little room that housed it, and over to the counter. Without warning, he pressed her chest down over the cold granite counter and started slapping her bare ass—hard.
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