by Anthology
I can do more, but she’s not ready quite yet.
Dipping my head, I take quick licks and nips of her neck. Tasting and savoring every inch of her skin. The journey down her body is slow as I commit her to memory.
She leans up on her elbows, her hooded eyes catching mine as I make my way down. Her thighs fall open even more, and I don’t waste any time going in for a taste. I devour her like a starved man, while she moans and writhes on the bed. Her hand reaches out, threading into my hair, and tugging me closer to her, and I smile against her cunt.
Fuck, but she does it for me. Her sweet innocence. Not many could manage to hang onto that after being stuck in this hellish nightmare. Yet here she is.
I lap at her, my tongue gliding along the slick ridges, dipping inside. My mouth takes her clit, and I plunge two fingers deep. She cries out. Fuckin’ soaked.
“You ready?”
“Please, I need to feel you.” Her voice is breathy and higher than normal when she begs.
“You’re ready,” I declare.
I grab her hand, lowering it to my cock, and wrap her slender fingers around my shaft. Giving it a few pumps, I guide our hands to position me at her entrance.
“Relax and let me in, baby.”
Molly bucks her hips, taking me into her without me moving an inch, and I groan. “Fuck yeah.”
I’m trying to be a gentleman here, but the little sounds she’s making are pushing me over the edge. I work her slowly, gauging her reaction to me, to this, making sure she isn’t slipping into a negative headspace. I need her to stay here with me. I need her to know I’m not like those monsters.
I capture her lips and roll us so she’s on top. She stops, looking down at me with apprehension on her face. My hand reaches for hers, and I bring it to my lips before holding it against my chest.
“Your turn. Do what feels good to you.”
“But…I want it to be good for you too.” The shyness in her voice goes straight to my dick.
“Anything you do will make it good for me.” My eyes trail down her naked torso, all the way to where we’re connected together, and slowly trace back up to her face. “Trust me,” I growl.
Her small hands cover my pecs, and she slowly starts moving back and forth. Her eyes close and her head falls back, exposing the slender curve of her neck, and her hair cascades down her back. Fucking prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. The sight of her working herself on my cock, for her pleasure, not for mine, is breathtaking.
Our sounds fill the room. She picks up speed, rocking and bouncing until she’s found a rhythm we both enjoy, and keeps it up until she comes. She comes fucking hard, so hard that I follow two thrusts after, and she collapses on my chest.
My arms wrap around her, as if I can protect her within my embrace. A lump of emotion rises to my throat. I never knew it could feel like that. Didn’t have a damn clue.
I leave her in bed while I get a warm washcloth and take extra care cleaning her between her legs. She lies there, sated with a small smile playing on her lips. An idea strikes me.
After depositing the washcloth on the bathroom floor, I walk to my discarded jeans, digging through the pockets to retrieve my phone. Then I walk back over to the bed.
It’s cheesy as hell, but I don’t care. I stop at the foot of the bed and snap a candid shot of her lying there. Her head faces the windows with that smile still on her perfect mouth. I don’t think she even noticed.
Now I have something to carry with me until we’re out of here.
Brandi
THAT WAS GOODBYE.
Of course, I hope it wasn’t, but I’m preparing myself for the worst. I can only hope when this is all over, Brixton doesn’t hate me for what I’m about to do.
His words touched something within me. It felt like they lit a candle that had been dark for way too long, and I feel like I finally have a purpose.
Finding out he’s an undercover didn’t shock me as much as I think he expected it to, but it reminded me that this is so much larger than me.
There are tens of hundreds of girls being kidnapped off the street each year and brought through this place to be sold, or worked, or raped and impregnated for black market babies. This isn’t about just me. Or the need I have to be with Brixton.
And I can’t rely on him to save all of us when I can do something about it.
What Brixton probably doesn’t know is that Todd hurting Chloe wasn’t the first time security raped one of the girls. It was just the first time they stupidly left one of us bleeding.
The security guards sneak down often. Since they control surveillance, they know they won’t get caught. And who would we tell anyway? Up until tonight, we thought nobody would believe us. Nobody expected Mr. G to shoot Todd for hurting Chloe. If we had, we probably would have told someone sooner.
Which means I just need to wait until the next time one of them comes down. Then I can sneak upstairs and into the den, and get what Brixton’s looking for.
Is it risky? Sure, but it’s not just my life on the line. There’s a bigger picture here to worry about, and I’m done being the victim.
***
Three days have passed, and I haven’t seen Brixton again. The Super Bowl is fast approaching, and I fear I might not have the opportunity to sneak into the den before then. With Todd’s death, security has been unusually quiet. We’ve been left entirely alone.
Chloe has since rejoined us in the basement, and I’ve kept myself occupied by comforting her any way I can. The resources down here are extremely limited. I get her water from the tap, and do my best to keep her warm when she gets chilled. I think her mind is having a harder time healing than her body at this point. I’m afraid she may be broken.
While lying next to her well into the night, I take notice of the strange silence. The other three girls are working, and instead of the remaining nine rustling around and having hushed conversations, everyone is just…still.
I curl protectively around Chloe and smooth her hair back from her face. She turns her head towards me, her eyes shiny with tears.
“Am I ever going to get out of this place?” The tremble in her voice tears at me. She’s only sixteen; I was at least an adult when I was taken. It’s not a huge difference, but enough of one. Chloe hasn’t had enough life experience to even begin to deal with our situation.
I comb my fingers through her hair, my gaze fixed on the far wall. “I don’t know, honey. But you have to hold onto hope.” I wish I could tell her everything. Brixton. My plan.
“Whenever I start to lose hope of getting out, I try to think of home. I try to recall anything that will bring me closer to my family than to this place. My favorite is the smell of my brother’s cologne. When we were younger, he used to basically bathe in the stuff. Oh my God, he smelled so bad!” I laugh and then choke on a sob. I haven’t spoken aloud about my family since I got here. “He grew up. Turned into a pretty handsome guy and he definitely learned that less is more.”
Alex was my entire world growing up. We fought like siblings, but we loved each other more than anything in the world. Our mother was gone, and our father was an obsessive workaholic, so most of the time we only had each other.
Until the day I left.
He was a stubborn ass, but so was I, and our argument just went too far. It’s not even important what we were fighting about anymore. I left to cool down, and he took off in his SUV.
There was a park near our house, and I walked there through the snow, thinking I’d just sit down for a while until I was ready to face him again. That moment never came.
A shiny red convertible pulled up, and a girl that looked to be my age stepped out. She was gorgeous and looked so friendly. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth, as flawlessly as if she were in a television commercial, and approached me.
I’ll admit now, I should have been more on guard. But I was so tired from fighting with my brother.
She said her name was Ari and that she just got home on break from
college. Her ability to relate to me made me feel at ease. We talked for a while, and when I started to shiver uncontrollably, she offered me a ride home.
I never thought getting in her car would change my life the way it has. Kidnappers to me always appeared to be men. Not young, sweet girls. But that’s exactly what she was.
Unlike the rest of us who are forced into prostitution or sold as sex slaves, Ari’s job is to prey on the weak and the vulnerable. She gets luxuries to find new women for Mr. G, and she reaps a world of benefits for it. That was the day I learned the devil comes in many forms, and his disguises are flawless.
There was a man hiding in the back seat of the car. As soon as I sat down, he pulled a bag over my head and dragged me into the back.
“I’m an only child.” Chloe’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “But I love the smell of my mother’s shampoo. It smelled like citrus and coconut. It always reminded me of the vacations we’d take to Hawaii every summer. Even in the dead of winter, if I smelled her hair, I swear I could feel the sun on my skin.”
“Then hold onto that, Chloe. Close your eyes and feel the sun on your skin and the sand in your toes. Hear the waves crashing along the beach. That’s your hope. To see that again. Don’t let that go.”
She turns and buries her face in my neck, so I hug her to me. “Thank you,” she murmurs sleepily.
“Mm-hmm.”
Just as I begin to fall asleep, I hear the creak of the door and footsteps drumming down the stairs. There’s more than one person coming. My heart begins drumming so hard I can feel my neck throb. Is the raid happening already? Did Brixton find a way so soon?
The atmosphere changes instantly and nobody moves. The breath freezes in my lungs. I want to turn around and face the doorway so I know what’s coming, but I’m afraid if this is something bad and I’m caught moving, I may be singled out for whatever these people want. The only thing I can do is lie still and pray this is Brixton. It has to be.
The visitors round the corner into the basement. Minutes pass while we wait. For what, though, I have no idea.
“Looks like they’re all fast asleep.”
“Who gives a shit?”
“Take your pick boys, we only have about an hour before the boss returns.”
Shit. It’s not the raid.
“Rise and shine you fuckin’ princesses. It’s time to play!” I recognize that voice as Darnell.
Their footsteps approach. “You think because Todd got killed that this was over? You, bitch, get on the floor,” another voice commands, and from the corner of my eye, I see Clarissa roll off the mattress. Instinctively, I tuck Chloe tighter against me, trying to act as a shield.
Someone cackles and Red screams. “I like a redhead. They’re feisty fucks.”
The rest of us lie still. It isn’t long before the room fills with heavy grunts and groans.
Chloe screams and is yanked from my arms. Her tiny body is dragged down the bed.
“I want this one,” Darnell laughs maliciously.
I latch on beneath her armpits and hold onto her. “No! Leave her alone, she’s been hurt.”
My blood pumps faster and faster. They can’t take Chloe. She’s been through more than enough.
He pulls harder, and Chloe cries out again. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”
“You can’t have her!”
The tension stops when he releases her foot. “Than I’ll have you,” he grunts and grabs for mine.
Instincts take over, and I lash out. He catches my right foot, but my left foot strikes out, connecting dead on with his nose. The bone crunches beneath my heel and warm, stinky blood pours out.
“Arrrgh! You fuckin’ cunt!”
Releasing Chloe, I roll of the bed, slipping on the blood dripping from my foot. I right myself and make a mad dash for the stairs.
“Get back here,” Darnell shouts, but I ignore him.
Through the pounding of my feet, I hear someone else yell, “Let her go. There’s more to pick from.”
“Not a chance,” he replies much to my panic.
Hurtling myself through the door at the top of the stairs, I scream when I hear his footsteps pounding after me. I’ll never make it to the second floor staircase before he sees me. There’s only two options to hide up here.
The control room.
And Mr. G’s den.
The control room is out of the question. There could still be someone in there, although, that’s unlikely. But it’d probably be the first place he looks.
I steal across the open hall and crash through the door to the den, closing it as quietly as I can behind me.
My sweaty palms rest against the hard wood door, and I drop my forehead to join them in an attempt to slow my breathing. It’s hard to make out the sounds of Darnell through my heavy pants. Dropping my left hand, I search blindly for the handle. My numb fingers fumble for the lock. It clicks quietly into place, and I release a ragged breath.
I take a step back, watching the door. Seconds pass with no sound. He must have kept going.
Just as I turn around, I hear the door handle jiggle. I sprint around the desk and duck behind it.
“Where are you, you fuckin’ bitch?” I hear him taunt. As quickly as it started, the jiggling handle stops.
My legs collapse beneath me, and I sit back on my heels. Holy shit. I need to find Brixton. If Darnell gets ahold of me, he isn’t going to have any mercy.
I look up from behind the desk, and it hits me. The den. This is where the names are that Brixton needs. My stomach pitches in excitement. I can help him end this. We can get out of here.
I tug on the drawers starting with the one to my left. Each one opens, but there’s nothing useful inside. The bottom drawer has a bottle of liquor and two highball glasses on a tray. The one above holds office supplies, pens, pencils, paperclips. Moving to the right, I find the top drawer empty. I’d bet he keeps a loaded gun there when he’s in here. He probably has it on him right now.
The last drawer is the bottom right. I give it a sharp tug. It’s locked.
This has to be where the names are. I try pulling again even though I know it’s useless. The drawer doesn’t budge.
Think.
I rifle through the other drawers again. My fingers brush the cold, metal paperclips, and I pause. My brother Alex taught me how to pick a lock with a bobby pin once. I wonder if this would work the same way. Granted, that was a door lock, but I bet the same principles apply.
I find two clips, and begin to bend them into the shape I need. I straighten the long side of both the clips and bend the tip of one into a short ‘L’ shape.
You can do this. Breathe. Remember what Alex told you.
“You got to apply torque carefully. Use the other one to feel inside the lock. Take a deep breath. Feel the pins?”
We were trying to break into our dad’s bedroom to get the key to the liquor cabinet. He could have easily done it, but I wanted him to teach me how. I’m praying I can get this to work.
I slow my breathing, then do as he taught me.
My fingers tremble so hard I can’t feel the individual pins. There is so much riding on this moment. I picture the girls. I picture Alex and my dad. And I picture Brixton. This is our chance to be free. Both of us. Because he’s as trapped here as I am.
Those thoughts calm me enough to concentrate on what I’m doing. It isn’t a quick process. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I’m thinking about giving up, when suddenly, the lock clicks, and the drawer pops open an inch.
I throw the paperclips to the floor and jerk it open. There are tons of folders tightly packed in a row. My instinct is to panic, but I hold onto the dread that I’m going to fail.
Grabbing the file on top, I flip it open and scan the first page. Please let this be it. It has to be.
Contact for buyers. Middle Eastern Trade. Mexican Trade. East European Trade. North Korean Trade. Southwest United States Trade.
The list goes on and on, listing more sections of the globe and contact information for each one. There are way more than three names on this list. I hope this is enough, because I’m starting to get panicky. I need to find Brixton and fast.
I arrange the folder back on top, minus the paper, and carefully close the drawer. I hate to do it, but I discard the paperclips in the trash. I don’t have any clothes to hide them in, and I don’t want to take them with me.
Creeping toward the door, I try to listen for any sounds in the hall. Everything seems still and quiet. Before I open the door, I fold the paper into a small square and tuck it in my hand in an attempt to conceal it.
Then I unlock and push open the door.
I scan the room haphazardly, but don’t see anyone. I make a mad dash for the second level stairs. My foot hits the bottom step, but a hand claps over my mouth and drags me back into a dark corner.
Darnell has found me and panic swamps me. My breathing escalates. I arch my back to break out of his hold and thrash my feet out in front of me. My back slams against his chest, and his mouth finds my ear.
“It’s me.”
Brixton.
The relief is instant. He spins me around to face him and presses a thick finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet. That’s when I notice the gun in his other hand. What the hell is going on?
He looks past me, peeking out from around the corner with his gun held up by his head. We must be alone, because he pulls back and holsters his weapon. “What are you doing up here?” he growls in a low voice.
I don’t bother speaking. I hand over the folded paper. Brixton’s eyes drop to it, then come back to me, widening slightly. “What did you do?”
“We can be free.”
He unfolds the paper and scans the page. To my surprise, his hand clenches, crushing the paper, and he brings his gaze back to mine. What did I do wrong?
“Brixton?” I question. “That’s what you needed, isn’t it?”
His eyes narrow as he stalks me. I retreat until I bump into the wall. His warm palm cups my throat, his thumb putting a slight pressure on my windpipe. Then his palm slides behind my head, and he crushes his mouth to mine. I lift onto my tiptoes as he pulls my face. Getting closer, not close enough. The passion is overwhelming as he pours his emotions into the kiss.
