by Zoe Blake
“Out of my way,” I roared as I threw a man to the floor and shoved another.
Elizabeth’s terrorized cries rang in my ears.
Another man blocked my path, swaying drunkenly, he slurred, “Richard, we need to talk, and I won’t take no for an answ—”
Seizing him by the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, I pulled my arm back and punched him square in the jaw before tossing his now limp body aside.
Racing forward, my path was blocked by a horde of writhing, naked bodies.
Elizabeth screamed again. My heart pounded a terrified cadence in my ears as I struggled to locate her through the dense trees and plants by the direction of her screams.
Finally, I saw her being hoisted in the air by several men, her dress in tatters around her body. Two woman were now pulling at her hair and the necklace at her throat.
Veering off the path, I crashed through the plants and trees, trampling the delicate flowers.
Fuck! I needed to get to her.
After an eternity, I was close.
“Elizabeth,” I shouted.
Her arm flung out as she desperately reached for me over the pitching sea of drunken bodies. Her beautiful face stark white with fear. “Richard!”
Grasping an overhanging branch of a tree, I swung forward, striking two of the men who held her aloft in the back with my feet. They tumbled forward.
Without the support of their hands, Elizabeth began to topple to the hard floor below.
“Richard!”
Chapter 28
Richard
Lunging, I caught her in my arms.
“I’ve got you, my love.”
Throwing her arms around my neck, she began to sob.
Shouldering and kicking my way through the crowd, my servants finally realized what was happening and began to push and shove, clearing a path for me. As we neared the hidden servants’ door, a maid threw it open.
“Guard the god damn door. No one gets through,” I shouted before rushing over the threshold.
The door slammed shut, pitching us into cool darkness.
Her body trembled violently in my grasp.
“Elizabeth?”
No response.
I squeezed her harder, trying to still her quaking limbs.
“Elizabeth!”
Nothing.
“Lizzie!”
She was going into shock. Racing up the stairs, I tilted my shoulders to the side as I navigated the narrow, dusty hallway.
A rabbit warren of hallways and stairs led to countless hidden doors in every chamber of the three-hundred-year-old estate house, allowing servants to come and go about their duties as silent ghosts, never mixing in the main hallways with their employers.
Knowing these paths from my own childhood, I quickly navigated through the darkness till I reached my own bedchamber. Kicking the door open, I cared little as I heard the ancient wood splinter and crack as it slammed against the wall, now dangling limply on only one hinge.
Carrying her still shaking form through the dark bedroom, which was lit only by the glow of the low fire in the fireplace, I entered the bathroom. Reaching into the polished black marble shower, I turned the knob activating the countless showerheads. Waiting for the water to get hot, I stripped off her torn gown, lingerie, and the only shoe that remained on her foot as I kicked off my own shoes.
Clenching my jaw, I saw the red scratch marks on her pale skin and the purple bruise that was already forming on her shoulder. My mark on her ass, showing the intensity of my desire for her was one thing… these were violent marks for violence’s sake. That was unacceptable. There were several cameras in the conservatory. Every man and woman who’d contributed to hurting my Elizabeth would pay… dearly. I would ruin their lives for this.
Even the thought of taking out my rage on those responsible didn’t quell the anger that tightened my chest and made it hard to breathe, for I knew I also had to accept part of the blame.
My arrogance in displaying my prize possession to those rabble almost got her killed.
Never again.
Never again would I share Elizabeth with the world.
Her tangled and matted hair was wrapped tightly around the back clasp of the tapering collar necklace, so I left it on as holding her in my arms, I stepped into the steam-filled shower, caring little as the water soaked through my tuxedo shirt and slacks.
Showerheads on the ceiling and along the walls rained soothing hot water down onto her poor battered body.
With a gasp, her emerald eyes sprung open. For a moment they were sightless, frantically looking around till they zeroed in on me.
“You bastard!” she screamed as she began to pound at my chest with her small fists. “You left me! You left me to those animals!”
“No! Elizabeth, I swear—”
“No! I hate you! I hate you and your stupid fucking games!” she cried as she continued to strike me.
Black mascara ran down her cheeks as the water streamed over her face. Grabbing her head, I leaned down. “Elizabeth, listen to me—”
“No! No! Let me go!” Her fingers tore at the thin, wet silk of my shirt.
Seizing her wrists, I wrenched them high over her head. Still she struggled. Stepping forward, I pressed her body against the now warm tile.
“Let me go! I hate y—”
My mouth slammed down onto hers. Pouring all my anger, fear, love, and lust into the kiss, I took possession of her mouth. Breathing heavily, my open mouth ran along her jaw then back to her lips. Pushing my tongue inside, I swallowed her rage.
The water beat down upon us as I shifted her narrow wrists into one hand and lowered my hand to palm her breast.
Breaking free from my kiss, she swore, “Fuck you! Let me go!”
“Never,” I growled, before pinching her erect nipple.
Leaning down, I kissed her neck, uncaring as the sharp edges of her diamond necklace scratched at my jaw and throat.
Wrapping an arm around her body, I placed the flat of hand against her lower back and pulled her forward, bowing her body into my embrace as I lowered my head to her breast. Pulling the nipple in deep, I bit down with my teeth, reveling in her cry of aroused pain.
Her wet wrists slipped free of my grasp; pulling at my hair, she brought my head up to her own.
“I hate you,” she cried through clenched teeth before kissing me.
Reaching down, I tore at the fastening of my trousers till my cock sprang free.
Sliding her up along the shower wall, I wrapped her legs around my waist. “Hate me then,” I growled as I placed the tip of my cock at her tight entrance, “but love this.”
I thrust in deep. Throwing my head back and howling as the beast inside of me unleashed at the feel of her hot body clenching down on my cock.
Elizabeth cried out, her arms flung wide, clawing at the wet tile as, unbound, I pounded into her.
The jagged edges of her necklace tore my shirt to shreds as I ran my teeth along her jaw before moving down to the rapid pulse of her throat, craving the taste of her beating heart.
Thrusting in deep, my ragged breath lost in the steam, I commanded, “Come for me, baby.”
Slipping both hands under her slick thighs and the under curve of her ass, the tips of my fingers grazed her dark hole, teasing.
“Richard!” she cried out as her back arched.
Pulling away from the wall, I wrapped her tightly in my arms as I pressed balls deep into her heat, wanting to feel every ripple of her orgasm as it coursed over her body. The moment she went limp in my arms, I pulled her legs free and stood her up within the circle of my arms. Then spinning her around to face the wall, I pulled her hips back.
Grabbing the soap, I lathered my hands, then pressed my soapy palm between her ass cheeks before running my fist up and down my shaft.
Positioning myself behind her, I growled, “My turn,” before plunging into her tight ass.
She screamed and bucked. Wrapping my arm around her hips, I pushed
my hand between her legs and rubbed her clit in hard circles.
“Oh, god! Oh, god! Fuck!” she yelled.
Her body gripped me to the point of delicious dark pain. After only a few thrusts, I was roaring my release as I pumped her ass full of my warm seed just as she came a second time, collapsing in my embrace.
Holding her close, I washed the evidence of our lovemaking away.
Stepping out of the shower, I sat on a nearby padded bench as I dried her skin with a soft cashmere towel.
Picking up a brush, I worked on the wet tangles in her hair. Gently unwinding her curls from around the diamond necklace, I removed its heavy weight from around her neck, hissing when I saw the scratch marks our violent lovemaking had caused on her skin under the necklace. Looking at them closely, I was relieved to see all were superficial.
Once her beautiful hair hung down her back in smooth strands, I carried her to bed.
Elizabeth didn’t say a word the entire time. Keeping her eyes closed, locking herself away from me. I could feel the distance between us with every tortured sigh.
Keeping her within my sights, I returned to the bathroom and stripped off my wet, clinging clothes. Drying off, I tossed the towel on the floor before climbing naked into bed beside her.
As I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back into my embrace, her body tensed. I held my breath, bracing for her to fight… and lose. After a moment’s hesitation, she relaxed against the warmth of my chest.
Pulling the heavy down covers over our shoulders, I held her sleeping form close.
The muffled sounds of laughter as guests left could be heard beneath our bedroom window.
I kept my eyes closed as I felt Elizabeth creep out of bed. The call of two nightingales could be heard just outside.
Morning.
The bitter taste of last night’s debauchery was still in my mouth. The memory of Elizabeth falling into the hands of those animals was like a fist squeezing my chest.
Through mostly lowered eyes, I watched her enter my dressing closet and emerge wearing a rolled-up pair of my sweatpants and my university t-shirt. I realized with an odd start, I had not allowed her any of her own clothes or belongings the entire time she had been here. Her closet full of couture gowns was at my London residence.
Her hair was a mass of unruly curls around her small gamine face. She looked disheveled and vulnerable and I wanted with all my being to just hug her close but stayed silent in our still warm bed.
Opening the door, she crept out.
Leaning over, I picked up the phone by my bedside.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“See that Elizabeth is driven back to London. Make sure the guards are alerted.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
I hung up.
Falling back onto my pillow, I flung an arm over my eyes.
Taking a deep breath… I began to formulate a new plan.
Chapter 29
Lizzie
The moment the flat door opened, I fell into Jane’s open arms. Sobbing.
Days later I was still on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket staring at the walls.
Why did I have to be in love with someone I hated?
How was it even possible?
Why would the universe allow such a contradiction?
It didn’t seem fair or right.
Richard was wrong for me. Dangerous.
Nothing good would come out of our relationship.
All I kept thinking about was the Shakespeare quote from the doomed lovers Romeo and Juliet.
These violent delights have violent ends and, in their triumph, die like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume.
That! That right there was Richard and me in a nutshell. Our entire relationship summed up in one sentence. We were too intense, too extreme. Toxic.
And his games!
His fucking games!
Each one was more immersive than the last. I didn’t even know my own mind any more… or my body. What started out as a naughty spanking in a public garden had now escalated to me almost being torn apart by a bunch of drunken sex-crazed men.
Where did it end?
How far was too far?
At what point did it stop being sexy and kinky and started becoming just plain wrong?
Where was the line?
I think that was the crux of my problem with Richard. I was becoming increasingly aware there was no line with him.
Sex in public? Sure.
Kidnapping? No biggie.
Force your girlfriend into a cage? Just a Friday night for him.
Where did it stop? Wrapping my arms tighter around my middle, a small voice in my head reasoned Richard was powerful enough and rich enough, I seriously doubted there was a line he wouldn’t cross to get what he wanted.
And the problem was he didn’t stop with my body, he fucked with my mind as well. He has me second guessing everything.
After I stopped crying, days later, I finally asked Jane about her conversation with Richard and my drawings. Jane told me she never talked to him. And yet, he had my drawings. I even met with the portrait artist for some early photos in the champagne chiffon dress he had had made. I kept telling her she didn’t need to keep his confidence, that he had admitted she had given him the drawings but she was adamant.
Who to believe? Was Jane just keeping his secret? Had he paid her to keep quiet no matter what? I noticed in the week I was gone, Jane had quit her job at the pub. She wouldn’t tell me why, only that she decided she didn’t want to work and go to school at the same time. A month ago, I had to cover part of her rent! She needed that job… at least she used to.
I started to ask her at least a hundred different times about her relationship with Richard. Did she know him before me? How well? Was she part of his plan? Had our entire friendship been a lie? Each time I stopped. She was my only friend in London and deep down I didn’t want to know the truth.
The problem was I knew that was just the tip of the iceberg. My landlord yesterday gave me a strange look when I tried to pay our rent. Telling me he would just get it the usual way. The usual way was me giving him a check from the small insurance settlement I had gotten from my parents’ accident. He refused to take it, just kept saying it was paid the usual way. That’s when I remember Richard claiming he paid my rent and had been doing so from the start. That was insane, but when I went to look at my bank account, there were no cancelled rent checks listed and there was way way more money in there than I ever thought possible.
Richard was powerful enough to get to my landlord and my roommate to lie but the banks? No, that didn’t seem possible. Which means the only plausible explanation was that he was right. We had met before the cab accident. Then why didn’t I remember?
Holding my head in my hands, I tried to stop the spinning thoughts.
It felt like I was on some sick and twisted merry-go-round. That was the problem, I kept circling over the same spot over and over again.
I loved him.
Against all reason, against my better good, against everything… I loved him.
“Why?” asked Jane last night as she handed me wine in our usual mugs.
“I can’t explain it. It’s just… being with him is more.”
“More?”
“Yeah, more. Everything is bigger, brighter, more intense. Things aren’t nice, they’re exhilarating. A party isn’t just a party, it’s a fucking rush walking in on his arm. Dinners? They’re insane. The food tastes better and you never know what surprise he has planned for dessert.”
Clinking her mug with mine, she smirked, “So is the sex more too?”
I blushed. I hadn’t really told Jane any of the kinkier aspects of our relationship. How could I possibly begin? You know that guy I’m dating? He likes to shove feathered butt plugs up my ass and call me his little bird and I totally get off on it? Uh… no.
“The sex is… off the charts,” I said as I lowered my eyes to concentrate on the contents of my
mug.
“He’s a pretty big guy… is he big… everywhere else?” she asked with an exaggerated wag of her eyebrows.
I hit her with a pillow. “I’m not talking about Richard’s cock with you!”
“Well, you can’t deny there are some pretty awesome fringe benefits.”
We both looked down at the coffee table where I had spread out all the bird pins Richard had bought me. They looked out of place on the dusty and scarred tabletop that was littered with old fashion magazines.
I picked one up and crushed it in my palm, holding it against my heart. A sharp pain had me hissing air through my teeth as I pulled my hand away and opened my palm. The sharp edge of the pin had pricked my palm. A small bead of blood had formed in the center. Placing my palm against my mouth, I licked the crimson drop away.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Lizzie. It’s like this guy makes you insanely happy and insanely miserable at the same time.”
“Exactly!” I said with a huff as I fell back on the sofa, putting the pillow over my face. Holding it close, I kicked out my legs and screamed into its fluffy contents before slamming it down on my lap.
Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I continued, “He makes me so mad, but I can’t imagine life without him now.”
Jane shrugged. “Men. Can’t live with them. Can’t kill them.”
We clinked mugs and drained the contents.
Now as I sat alone in our flat, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I missed him. Despite all the confusion and games and lies, I missed him. I missed the feel of his arms and the smell of his cologne. I missed the dark honey sound of his voice and the way his gaze fixated on me as if I were the only person in the world. I missed the feel of his hand on my lower back as he guided me through a crowd and how he would always feed me tasty bites of his own meal. I missed the look of pride in his eyes when he showed me my dress designs come to life for the first time.
And even if I was going straight to hell for it, I missed the mind-blowing sex.
For the hundred-thousandth time, I picked up my phone and checked for missed calls or texts.
