Rapine 3: Retrieved by the Billionaire

by Charlotte Rose

  After a while, I start to feel better and close my eyes. I am startled and open my eyes when Derek rips the bed covers off me. He spreads my legs, placing himself between them.

  “I’m not done with you,” he says, his eyes frighteningly red and spaced-out.

  “I need a break, please,” I plead. “I need time to heal.”

  He ignores me, pushing his throbbing, pulsing cock into my opening. He thrusts his hips, forward and backward, fucking me slowly. He takes it easy on me for a while.

  The steady, gentle pace bores him after a while, and he picks up the speed, setting a reckless and wild rhythm. He grinds his hips forward, driving his cock deeper. He leans forward against me, hitting my g-spot. I moan and groan out of reflex as his cock brushes against my g-spot.

  I can feel his palpitating heart against my chest as he moves on top of me, propelling his hips forward and back. The pleasurable friction against my g-spot increases, and I feel my peak building up.

  He leans away, and the pleasing friction against my g-spot stops and his lunges stab me instead of please me. My core clenches tight, begging for release.

  “Please,” I beg, “please.”

  Derek increases the pace into stabbing thrusts that jerk my body violently.

  “Please,” I whimper. I realize I am begging for him to give me an orgasm. As much agony as he puts me through, my sexual instincts takes over and my core pleads for a satisfying climax.

  My legs wrap around his lower back, pulling him in deeper. He leans up against me, his cock once again briskly rubbing up against my g-spot. I moan with pleasure and feel my peak building up once again.

  He finds his peak, his shaft pulsing deep within me. I feel the warm of his seed releasing against my g-spot and that triggers my orgasm. I spasm as waves of bliss move through my body.

  I feel Derek’s liquid warmth bathing my insides, the saltiness of it painfully stinging my flesh. He impels his hips forward, releasing the remains of his balls, groaning in satisfaction. Finally, he rolls off me, leaving my seared insides soaked in hot, sticky liquid—a messy creampie.

  Derek is kind enough to not fuck my bruised insides for the next two days so that I can heal. Throughout the day, the maid brings me several glasses of cranberry juice in an effort to speed my recovery. In the evenings, all I need to do is please Derek with my mouth.

  I spend the next two days, curled up in the velvet armchair gazing out the window in a daze. I’m in no mood to read or watch movies. I don’t even feel like moving. Walking hurts. I sit glued to the armchair all day except for trips to the bathroom. I am still peeing out blood.

  I am sitting and staring absentmindedly at the city out of my window when I hear the door open and Derek walks in. I stand as he approaches and scrutinizes me.

  He flicks his eyes down from my face to my stomach and lets his eyes rest there for a while. My heart patters rapidly in my chest, but I take in deep breaths and try to remain calm. I look down and see a small bulge then my eyes meet his. I wait until he speaks first.

  “You look bloated,” he says simply.

  He touches my belly, and it takes everything in my willpower not to cringe and shudder at his touch. Just a few days ago those dirty hands were all over me and doing God knows what with me while I was unconscious.

  I shriek when he pulls down my pants in one fast movement. He pushes aside my panties and shoves two fingers inside me, circles them, and pulls them out. Fresh cherry red blood mixed with older, darker blood coat his fingers.

  “Hmm.” He frowns. “It appears you have still not healed.”

  “Please, please, let me see a doctor,” I beseech.

  He is silent for a while as he rubs his fingers together and smells them.

  “I’ll call in New York’s best gynecologist that does home visits,” he says with no emotion.

  A few hours later, I hear a knock at the door and Derek enters with a male doctor. I stand from the armchair as the doctor looks at me curiously. I would prefer a female gynecologist, but he looks acceptable enough since he is older—looks to be in his early sixties—with grey hair, and has a pleasant, intelligent expression on his face.

  He turns to Derek. “I ask that you leave, at least for the next thirty minutes as I conduct a complete examination on your fiancée.”

  Derek doesn’t budge.

  “I can’t examine her until you leave. We need to give the lady a little privacy,” the doctor explains.

  Derek glances at me, then leaves the bedroom without a word. The doctor conducts standard health tests like measuring my blood pressure.

  “Have you been experiencing higher than normal stress lately?” the doctor looks at me with concern in his eyes.

  Immediately, I feel like telling him everything, all the stress that Derek has put me through. However, I bite down on my tongue. I know that would not be wise and that would just make things worse for me.

  “Why do you say that I am stressed?” I ask.

  “Your blood pressure is elevated. Stressful situations can cause your blood pressure to spike temporarily,” the doctor explains and continues my examination, including a pregnancy test and a pelvic exam.

  “You have a severe bladder infection. However, not to worry, it can be cleared with medication.”

  “Is that why I am bleeding?”

  “That could be part of the problem. I will have to tell you fiancé to be gentler with you for a while.”

  The doctor continues his examination including pregnancy testing.

  “You are also pregnant,” the doctor says and smiles kindly at me.

  “Please don’t tell him,” I respond quickly. “You can tell him I am stressed, but please don’t tell him I am pregnant.”

  “May I ask why not?”

  “I…I’m just not ready to reveal the news to him yet.”

  “I understand.”

  A few minutes later, we hear a knock on the door.

  “Yes, come in,” the doctor says.

  Derek comes in and appears concerned. “How is she?”

  “First of all the infection is severe, but I will prescribe a strong medication for that. Second, she has a high stress level,” the doctor explains.

  Guilt flashes across Derek’s face.

  The doctor meets my eyes with a knowing look. “As for the cause of the bleeding,” he glances at Derek. “I’ve seen a few cases of this every year. To make sure this never happens again, I suggest you both be aroused at the same time before proceeding with sexual activity.”

  Derek’s cheeks redden with shame. “Thank you doctor.”

  The doctor turns back to me and appears concerned. “Anyways, I have to go.” He writes a prescription for my medication and hands it to Derek. “Take care of her.”

  Once the doctor has left, Derek approaches me, and gently brushes away stray strands of hair from my face.

  “I know I’ve been rough on you lately,” he whispers. “But you need to understand that you haven’t made it easy for me.”

  I wait for an apology, or admittance of his fault, but it never comes.

  He looks down at the paper containing the prescription. “I’ll run out and get you the medication.”

  A while later, he returns and hands me the medication.

  “Take the medication, and we will put this behind us.” He turns and leaves the room.

  In the evening, Derek returns to my bedroom to fetch me for dinner. We eat in silence, and I notice Derek appears deep in thought.

  After dinner, instead of dragging me into his bedroom, he invites me to join him in the living room. I sit beside him stiffly on the white Barcelona couch.

  He leans forward and kisses my cheek. “I haven’t been myself recently. But I promise things will be better.” His voice is soft and tender. It’s the closest to an apology as he will get. Perhaps he has realized his fault. I search his brown eyes, but see nothing that would indicate he is insincere.

  I am bombarded by thoughts and find the courage to a
sk him my most pressing one.

  “Why have you been so….” I stop and think of the right word. “Why have you been so cruel lately?”

  Much more than cruel, more like a monster.

  He appears offended and his lips tighten as he examines me carefully, a cold harsh glint in his eyes.

  “You have disappointed me,” he replies.

  I wait for further explanation but he remains silent. I understand that to mean he is upset that I fucked Julian willingly.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, but not sincerely. Mostly I just want to him to treat me better, and I reason that if I can get on his good side—please my captor and abuser—maybe he will not be as severe toward me.

  I gaze into his eyes to try to discern what he is thinking and feeling. I still see harshness in his eyes that was never there before I was taken by Julian. I sense that he is resentful. In his mind, I’ve cheated on him. He will never forgive me for fucking Julian.

  “I promise I’ll be better,” Derek says, stroking my face tenderly.

  I’m not sure I believe him, but I really hope he means it.

  “I want to kiss you Cheryl,” he says softly. “I promise it’s just a kiss.”

  I nod tentatively. He presses his lips to mine, pushing his tongue against my mouth to gain entry. I open my mouth to let his tongue slip in. He brings both his hands behind my head, threading his fingers into my hair. He grips my head, and kisses me assertively the way he knows I like to be kissed.

  He pulls away and strokes my face with the back of his fingers. “I love you. I have forgiven you.”

  “Can I ask you one more thing Derek?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Go ahead,” he responds.

  “Can you quit using drugs?” I murmur. “It makes me really uncomfortable,” I add quickly.

  “I’ll think about it,” he snaps quickly as if he knew the question was coming.

  “Anyways, I have some work to do in my office. I’ll walk you back to your room,” he says as if he were doing me a courtesy.

  He puts me back into my prison and locks the door. I take my medication and head into the shower. As I’m getting ready for bed, Derek enters my bedroom.

  “Do you want to join me in my bed tonight?”

  As lonely as I’ve been feeling recently, there is no way I want to sleep in bed with him, and risk having him want to have sex with me.

  “I can sleep here tonight,” I reply.

  His eyes flash with anger and I hold my breath.

  “Goodnight,” he replies as he closes the door and I sigh with relief.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  In the morning, I hear a knock on the door that wakes me. I sit up in bed, still bleary from sleep. I glance at the glass clock on the bed stand; it’s 6:34 a.m.

  “Yes?” I call out.

  The maid walk in and smiles. “Miss, Derek would like you to eat breakfast with him before he leaves for work.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right out.”

  I get dressed in my standard outfit of pants and a simple top. I take a breath, head into the kitchen, and sit beside Derek at the white quartz kitchen island, right beside the beautiful fresh, purple and white orchid and lily flower arrangement. Derek does not appear to like new things very much. He’s always had the same types of flowers arranged by the maid since I can remember.

  The maid pours me a cup of civet coffee and presents me with a plate of French toast and fruit.

  “Are you feeling better?” Derek asks in a loving tone.

  “No,” I lie, even though I really am feeling better. I am no longer peeing blood.

  “The doctor said you should start to feel better in a few days. I have postponed the wedding until next week.”

  I swallow nervously, and no longer feel hungry, but I continue to force myself to eat to avoid Derek’s gaze.

  The next three days, Derek’s temperament is stable, and he does not force himself on me. I have lunch brought to me in my bedroom by the maid, but I eat breakfast and dinner with him each day. At each meal he asks how I’m feeling and each time I tell him I am still not well.

  By the fourth day, I feel completely back to myself. The medication seems to have worked to cure my infection. After dinner, Derek invites me to have tea with him in the living room.

  We sit together on the white Barcelona couch, with a pot of steaming Earl Grey tea and two tea cups made of exceptionally rare antique porcelain. He pours me a cup and hands it to me, meets my eye and smiles. I take a sip and he pours himself a cup.

  He taps at his clear glass tablet and smooth jazz music begins to play through the speakers around the room. He taps at his tablet again and the lights in the living room dim, setting a romantic scene with the brightest light coming from the ceiling spotlights which are directed onto each of the sixteen colorful, abstract painting on the wall.

  We sit sipping our tea quietly and listening to the relaxing music. We are both in our own worlds. I begin to contemplate how my future with Derek will look like if Julian does not come for me. I grasp that even if Derek does behave himself better, I will still never be able to love him.

  I finish my cup of tea, and carefully place the cup onto the glass coffee table. Derek turns his attention toward me and smiles.

  He places his cup down, puts his hand behind my neck, and pulls me into for a kiss. I respond by pushing him away.

  “I still don’t feel well,” I lie.

  His brows raise in surprise. “Really?”

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  “The doctor told me you should feel better by now.”

  “Well I don’t.”

  “More tea darling?” he asks kindly.

  “Sure.” I watch as he pours me another cup and hands it to me.

  He curves his arm on the couch behind me and I stiffen.

  “You know I care about you very much,” he whispers. That caring look in his eyes gives me a small glimpse of the previous Derek I fell in love with. “Sometimes though, I go a little crazy. I’ve been to hell and back when I lost you.”

  A little crazy? That doesn’t even begin to describe how he’s been acting lately.

  “Hmmm…” I respond, pretending to understand him.

  “You were not faithful, but still, I took you back. You are mine and you always will be. Therefore, I expect loyalty and respect from you, and in turn I will try and control my moods.”

  He turns my face to meet his eyes.

  “Do you understand?” the darkness in his eyes makes me shiver.

  “Yes, Derek,” I whisper. “I understand.” I swallow nervously.

  Immediately his demeanor changes back into his new, more pleasant self. “Good girl.”

  He excuses himself to use the bathroom. He takes longer to come back than expected, and immediately I suspect he is doing lines of cocaine.

  I’ve finished my cup of tea when he finally comes back, sits beside me, and wraps his arm around the couch behind me.

  The two cups of tea I’ve consumed make me need to use the bathroom. “May I be excused? I need to use the bathroom as well.”

  “Then, I’ll come with you and watch,” he answers.

  “What?” I respond. “No.”

  “You told me you are not feeling better, but I need to see it for myself. I need to see if you are still peeing blood or not.”

  My bladder clamps and I feel as though I can no longer hold it in.

  “Please don’t watch,” I plead. I stand up, head toward to the nearest bathroom, and lock the door.

  As I am peeing, the door crashes open and my heart nearly stops as he stands there and gazes at me. “I will be very upset to find out you are lying to me,” he warns.

  I quickly finish and hurry to flush but Derek pushes me out of the way and takes a look.

  “You fucking lying bitch, I don’t see any blood,” he roars.

  I pull up my pants and rush out of the bathroom but Derek’s arms clamp around my waist and he pulls me back in. He bends me over the sink, pulls
down my pants, and rips off my panties.

  He holds onto my waist with one hand to prevent me from escaping. I hear his belt come off and he whips my ass with the metal part of the belt.

  I wail as the lashing continues for several minutes. Then his pants and boxer briefs come off and he enters me. He places his hand over my mouth and holds me in position with his other hand. He begins thrusting furiously, the loud smacking of flesh against flesh echoing around the bathroom.

  I close my eyes and try to imagine what Julian will do to Derek if, and when, he comes. I no longer have any conscious left as I had before when they fought against each other in the parking garage—I was scared of seeing Derek die. Now, I don’t mind if Julian incapacitates Derek or kills him.

  Derek shoots his liquid inside me, grunting beastly as he grinds against me, his balls pressed against my ass. He is using all the strength of his hips to thrust into me, draining his balls out thoroughly.

  He groans in gratification and stops. He pulls out of me, and I feel him wipe his dick across my ass to clean it off, depositing sperm and wetness on my skin.

  I stay frozen in position, my face drenched in tears.

  “Take a shower,” he commands. “I’ll be back to get you.”

  I linger in the shower, crying, and let the drizzle of the water run down my back. I am startled when Derek opens the glass shower door, and holds out a towel for me.

  I grab the towel, and dry myself in the shower. I wrap the towel around myself and step out. Derek smiles. “No more lies?”

  “No more lies,” I respond.

  “Come, you are sleeping in bed with me tonight.”

  In the morning, I awake in Derek’s bed when I hear a knock on the door. I glance at the time; it’s 12:45 p.m. I must have been really exhausted, and slept in. I hear another knock at the door. It must be the maid.

  “Yes?” I call out.

  The door bursts opens and I gasp.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Julian is standing in the doorway, clad in his usual all-black attire. His arms are open, inviting me. I jump off the bed and rush to him.