by Nicole Casey
I remained there even after he’d withdrawn, the confused and tumultuous way this had started making it difficult to accept that I could just stand up if I wanted to. Seeing that I wasn’t moving on my own though, he returned once he’d zipped up his pants and leaned down to stand me up.
He didn’t say anything. He just gathered me against his chest and I closed my eyes to focus on the hardness of his flesh and the warmth that radiated from him. Capable of coherent thought once again, I debated bringing up the question. It seemed though, that while I’d regained the ability to think, I’d also gained back my ability to be embarrassed.
Did I want to tell him that I wanted him to spank me? To hurt me? Was it even true? Or perhaps what he’d said offered a better explanation—I’d only come to think I wanted it because of what he’d done to me? Still undecided, the question slipped from my lips nevertheless.
“I don’t understand why I want you to…”
“Scar, stop talking,” he cut me off. “You can’t talk like that. It isn’t real. It will fade. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to like…”
“But you do,” I finished his thought when it didn’t seem like he was going to. “I know that. All the times when you’d…you know…well, I could feel the way it made you respond.”
He breathed a heavy sigh, but then released me. “Eat your breakfast. I’m going to grab a quick shower before we leave.”
He left the room, and I resisted the urge to follow him into the bathroom. Given that I was the one who’d been spanked and whipped with his belt, you’d think it would make sense that I’d be the one in need of a shower to collect my thoughts. But Derek seemed almost plagued by the things he’d done to me, and even more so by the way they might have shaped some of the things I wanted now.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to empathize with him. After all, I was the one who’d been spanked, whipped and forced to do a whole lot of things against my will. Where did he get off being plagued by what he’d done?
I gasped aloud at my own thoughts. I’d been so caught up in keeping him that I hadn’t taken the time to acknowledge how angry I still was with him. I’d known it was there, deep down somewhere. No one could go through what I’d been through and feel no anger or hurt over it, but I hadn’t realized the depth of that feeling. Aware of it now, I deliberately forced it back down—not forever, just for now. Once Derek and I were somewhere safe and I felt more certain he wouldn’t be so easily driven away when confronted with some of the things I was feeling, then I would let it back out again to find some way to deal with it in a calm, rational manner.
Right now, all that mattered was he was still here. Everything else could wait. I was angry, yes, but I loved him, too. I wasn’t a delusional victim of Stockholm syndrome. It’s why I could admit that what he did was wrong and that I had very real and vivid feelings about it. And I was even able to admit that perhaps the things he’d done had influenced me in some ways, but they held no sway over my heart. My body maybe, but not my heart. Derek the man, not the captor, had my heart.
I retrieved the clothes he’d gotten for me the day before and put them on. Clothing still felt odd, uncomfortable even, after being naked for so long, but I had no intention of walking out of the motel in my birthday suit.
Then I turned to the paper bag on the table. Food was another issue I was still dealing with. It seemed ridiculous. I’d fed myself for most of my life, but after five weeks of not being allowed to, it felt strange. I even missed it a little—kneeling between Derek’s legs while he fed me from his fingers and stroked my face. Yes, I was well aware how messed up that was.
It was easier now, with Derek out of the room, so I took advantage of the time I’d been given and forced myself to dig in before he was finished with the shower.
And I was just finishing off the last bite of the bacon and egg biscuit he’d brought back when the shower shut off—I don’t think I’d ever scarfed food down so quickly! I was done, nevertheless, when he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a towel that was slung low around the sexy taper of his hips. I wanted to tear the damn towel off.
I didn’t move, I just watched as he crossed to the bed and retrieved fresh clothes from his bag. I don’t think I even breathed. Not until he dropped the towel and my breath came out with a whoosh. Derek seemed to have none of the modesty issues that I had once thought were common amongst the human race. Then again, just look at him. With a body like that, it was no wonder he was comfortable in his skin.
“If you keep looking at me like that, Scar, we’re not going to be leaving anytime soon,” he said while he zipped up his fly.
I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed me staring, but I didn’t stop. I knew we needed to leave. He’d stressed the importance of staying on the move, but it had been days and there’d been no sign of any trouble. Another hour couldn’t hurt, could it?
I stood up without looking away. It felt strange to be so bold. I could feel my knees trying to bend, trying to make me kneel like I was used to doing, but I stiffened them and walked straight to him.
He was reaching for his shirt, but I put my hand over his to stop him, resisting the urge to pull back and cower away. When I looked up, he cocked an eyebrow questioningly. He was amused, not angry—at least that was my best assessment.
“I want to…” I couldn’t quite get the words out. I was aroused, but not so far gone that it overwhelmed all my inhibitions. I wanted to tell him that the moment he’d dropped the towel, my mouth had begun to water in anticipation. That I wanted to feel the hard length of him between my lips.
Instead, I did what seemed to come too naturally. I dropped to my knees, but I didn’t wait there patiently. I reached for the fly of his pants and unzipped it. He was already hard, already so much more than I could fit in my mouth, but it didn’t stop me from trying. I circled the tip of him with my tongue first, and then ran down the underside of him and then back. His cock jerked against me, sending a corresponding jolt of arousal through my body.
His hand gripped the back of my head, but he didn’t try to rush me. He was letting me set the pace, but I was in a hurry, too. I wanted to feel him in my mouth and watch him respond. I parted my lips and took him in, inch after inch until I could go no further, and then worked my way back to the tip of him while he groaned and his hands made fists in my hair.
Again and again, I took him in. I wrapped my hand around the base of him as best I could, and worked it in tandem with my mouth. His groans grew louder and despite the restraint, I could feel he was using, his hips started to thrust, forcing his cock deeper for brief seconds at a time.
All of a sudden, his hands left my hair and gripped me in my arms. He yanked me to my feet and before I’d even righted myself, he grabbed hold of my shirt and tore it right down the middle. I probably should have worried that I only had one other shirt, but I didn’t care. My pants went next—I had no idea they could tear so easily. I was naked, and heady with desire, and I pressed my body against him, feeling the slick glide of his cock against my abdomen.
Then I was on my back on the bed, and Derek was hovering on top of me. I reached for him, but he grabbed my wrists fast, slamming them down against the mattress over my head.
“Just stay still, Scar,” he ground out between gritted teeth, and then he leaned in and sucked my nipple into his mouth hard. Pain, pleasure—it was such a heady mix.
His breathing came hard and I could feel every exhale against my breast like a gentle caress. The double sensation sent waves of arousal through me, settling between my thighs and making my aching flesh throb with need.
I didn’t remember moving, but my legs were around his waist, trying to draw him closer, to direct his massive erection to where I needed him to be. Little more than half an hour had passed since he was last inside me, but it felt like it had been days. Days of longing, waiting for him to fill me again.
He was right there, so close, but he hovered there. Why wouldn’t he just fuck me already? “P
lease,” I moaned as he rocked against me, making his cock slide against my clit.
“You’re new at this, and you’re going to be sore if we keep this up.”
“I don’t care,” I told him, and I writhed against him, trying to sway him.
He groaned as he leaned down and rested his forehead against mine. He was so close. Every breath I took was filtered by his lungs, and every movement rubbed my body against his.
Then his hand was between us. I felt him lining himself up against my sex. He was right there, the engorged head of his cock penetrated me, stretching my opening to accommodate his girth. “Oh god, yes. Please. More,” I whispered breathlessly.
He didn’t pull away when I tilted my hips to drive more of him inside me. Thousands of nerve endings fired. I tightened my legs around his waist to draw more of him inside. I was shameless, trying to work him into my sex, writhing, rocking.
“You seem to have developed quite an appetite, Pet,” he smirked, but his teeth were clenched so tight and his expression so intense, there was no way he wasn’t just as hungry for this as I was. “Tell me what you want. Be explicit.”
“I want you to fuck my pussy. I want you to ram every inch of your incredible cock deep inside me.” Absolutely shameless.
I must have said the magic words because he did just that. Over and over again.
When his lips came down on mine, he took what he wanted, his teeth, lips, and tongue feeding on my mouth. I licked and nipped back, trying to get my fill.
Higher and higher. Frantic. By the time I reached the top, I was consumed. Nothing existed but the man between my thighs. He took me with him as he rocketed over the edge, and for one glorious moment, our bodies froze, joined as one, as our release pulsed like shockwaves through our bodies.
Minutes passed before we began to untangle our limbs, and I bit back the whine that threatened to slip out when he withdrew from my body. It was some comfort though to see the reluctance in his movements as he slid off the bed.
“Go take a shower, Scar. We’ve stayed here too long and I don’t know when we’ll be able to stop again.” Already the look of idyllic satisfaction was being replaced by the tension that had lived inside him since we ran.
I nodded and forced myself off the bed. My limbs felt almost fluid, certainly not solid enough to hold me up, but they managed. I crossed the room to the bathroom, but I didn’t close the door. I just turned on the faucet and stepped beneath the spray. I’d attributed most of his tension to me this morning, but I was beginning to see he was more on edge than I’d thought, increasingly so every day.
2
Scarlett
With Marcos dead, I didn’t understand why he seemed so worried, but it was clear he didn’t think the entire threat had been neutralized. Had Marcos merely been one of several? Did other sick and powerful men know about me? I’d learned I was supposed to have been Derek’s revenge but was there more to it?—others who wanted to see my father pay for his sins? The thought sent a shiver down my spine and made my hands fly faster across my skin. I was suddenly anxious to be on our way, too, putting as much distance between me and whatever men still might be hoping to use me in their vengeful plans.
As soon as I was done, I shut off the water and toweled off as quickly as I could. My clothes were in the other room though. I thought about wrapping the towel around me, but it almost seemed silly to cover up in front of Derek. He’d seen every part of me—what did I have left to hide?
Leaving the towel, I walked out intending to retrieve my clothes from the bag he’d stored them in, but the bag was gone. The room was spotless, and Derek was nowhere to be seen. No note on the table. He was just gone. Had he let me after all?
A pain shot through my heart at the thought, and I stood there, staring at the table as if I could make a note materialize out of sheer will. A note to say he’d gone on a coffee run or went to get gas for the car, or snacks for the road. Anything.
No note appeared on the table. The pain in my chest increased as if someone was squeezing my heart.
I wasn’t prepared for it when the door swung open. Derek walked in, and the sob I’d been holding back came out like a strangled cry. I wanted to drop to my knees, rush into his arms and collapse in a big ball of crazy, all at the same time. I settled for standing there as he approached while my bottom lip trembled like a child.
“What’s wrong, Pet?” he asked, running his hands over me, not seductively, but like he was searching for some physical injury to explain what was going on.
“Nothing’s wrong. I came out and you weren’t here, and there was no note, so I thought you’d left.” I rushed, and then finished with a ridiculous sniffle. Great. I sounded like an overgrown child with some serious separation issues.
He smiled, though his eyes looked sad, and he pulled me against him and rubbed my upper back soothingly. The wounds across my lower back had already begun to heal, but still, he seemed careful of them.
“I just went to put our things in the car. I would never…” He let his words trail off because we both knew they weren’t true. In reality, if he knew without a doubt I’d be safe, I think he would have left. Not because he didn’t care about me—I had to believe he did—but because he believed what I felt for him was all a result of my time in captivity.
That’s why I looked for a note any time he went out, and that was why I was quick to assume he’d left when there was none. I had a feeling if I didn’t change his mind about the source of my feelings for him, one of these days when I no longer needed to be protected, he would be gone.
I clung to him now, as if by doing so I could keep him here forever, but reason returned quickly. I knew we couldn’t linger any longer. I had delayed him by hours already. I could only hope he was wrong about the need to keep running.
“I’m all right,” I said in the most ‘all right’ voice I could muster.
“Good,” he replied as he dropped his arms to his sides. “Because if you don’t get dressed right now, we’re going to have another delay we can’t afford.”
I glanced down automatically to discover he wasn’t joking. His growing erection was already visible against his pants. Man, the Energizer Bunny had nothing on him. And as much as I wanted to pursue that line of thought, I couldn’t. We needed to leave.
I stepped back and saw the clothes he’d brought back with him from the car. He’d dropped them on the floor when he saw me standing there, sobbing like a fool.
I retrieved them from the floor and held them awkwardly for a moment before I slipped them on. It was still strange—maybe it always would be—but I felt the compulsion to drop to my knees more than usual as if I had to atone for covering myself up.
That was ridiculous, of course. Derek was the one who wanted me to put the clothes on, needed me to, in fact, so we could get the hell out of here.
I stood there waiting while he did a quick sweep of the room. Satisfied we were leaving no traces of our stay behind, he took my hand in his and led me out the door and into the car he’d pulled up to the curb of the motel room’s front walk. He was tense. Even if I hadn’t been able to see the way he was scanning our surroundings, I’d know it by the way it radiated from his body.
I didn’t want to know what threats were still out there, but maybe it was time to stop being such a coward and find out. If I knew what—or who—he was looking for, maybe I could even help. Something to focus on other than the batshit craziness that swirled around in my head constantly—oh, what sweet relief.
He slipped into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot. I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself against the desire to scrunch down in the seat and pretend nothing was out there. Nothing was hunting us. Nothing was waiting around the corner to take me away from him, or to take him away from me. It was foolish to think we were safe. Just days ago, he’d killed a man—for me. A man who was obviously very powerful. How many loyal followers did Marcos have who would seek to avenge his death?
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��Derek…” I flinched at using his name. Would he be angry? Pleased? Oh hell, the craziness was tiring! Time to pull it together and keep talking. “Who’s following us?”
“Hopefully no one,” he said as he reached for my hand without taking his eyes off the road.
“But if we weren’t being so hopeful…Who?”
He heaved a heavy sigh but didn’t respond. He was silent for so long I figured he wasn’t going to, but then he did.
“A lot of people worked for Marcos, some of them very devoted. It’s unlikely they’d connect his death with me, but it will be suspicious that I’ve disappeared. And the transaction…he’d already finished negotiating the agreement. The buyer was…quite eager.”
“…to buy me,” I finished the thought he’d likely had no intention of finishing.
It was true though. There was a man out there somewhere who’d seen pictures of me—or videos, or however it worked—and purchased me like a piece of furniture. I might still have been angry at Derek, but I was also well aware that he could have just as easily let it happen. He could have let that man come and take me away. Hell, he could have gift wrapped me with a giant fucking bow on my head. If he had, he wouldn’t have to be on the run now, keeping watch for men who might very well be hunting him down to kill him.
Should I demand he takes me back? Demand he tells Marcos’ loyal followers that he caught me trying to escape after killing the man? It was possible that might eliminate the threat to his life, but it wasn’t possible I could make him do it. I knew he wouldn’t. Whatever it was that had changed him, there was no going back.
How long would we be on the run though? Once we reached a certain distance, would we be safe then? Or would they stop looking for us after so much time had passed? The dark scowl on Derek’s face made me think I didn’t want to pry for more answers right now. We were together. That’s all that mattered.
