by Marie Wathen
He tips my head to the side, teasingly sliding his tongue along the seam of my partially-open lips. I accept his offer eagerly and wrap my arms snuggly around his waist, but allow my hands to slip over his firm, perfect ass. He moans deliciously at my aggressiveness and reciprocates with giving mine the same affection. Oh, yes, we’ll talk later. Without even realizing we moved, I snap open my eyes after hearing the water turning on in the shower. He smiles through our kiss and guides me below the spray. Immediately, he draws away from me, dipping his head down and capturing my pebbled nipple with his hot mouth. He growls about how delicious I taste before moving to the other breast; his hand comes up to the one he vacated, rubbing it seductively between his thumb and fingers. My center clenches and I feel his hardness press against my belly. The warm water rushes down my back and I turn slightly, allowing it to pour over my shoulder, soaking his hand that is kneading me. Slowly, but enthusiastically, I move my hand around his stomach and grip his erection tenderly.
“Fuck,” he moans softly, sending vibrations from my nipple straight to my core and I melt. He lifts his face up to look at me and his eyes burn with desire and pleasure before glancing down at our connection. I stroke him slowly, seeing his powerful muscles tighten with pleasure and feeling him shudder against me. He rolls his head back, his eyes closing as his teeth slide over his bottom lip to bite down, stifling another heady groan. Wanting to hear it, I tighten my grip and wrap my other hand around him at the base. My movements increase and it isn’t long before he breaks his vow of silence.
“Baby, I need to be inside you,” Marcus begs like a man needing to be put out of his misery. He pierces me with serious, shimmering green eyes and emphasizes, “Deep inside you.” I nod agreeably. He dips down, wraps his hands around the back of my thighs and then lifts me easily. Pressing my back against the wall, he kisses me wildly while securing my legs around his waist. I lock them behind him, gripping his shoulders to hold securely as he removes one hand to fist his dick and press it against my entrance. A deep rumble echoes off the tiled walls of the shower and I realize it’s coming from me, enjoying the feel of his head rubbing against my tiny bundle of excited nerves. Satisfied with my wanton sound, he thrusts into me hard and deeply. Both hands on my ass, he moves his mouth to my neck and begins nibbling against the sensitive, goose bump-covered skin at the crook of my shoulder, eliciting a shiver down my spine. Marcus’ movements are slow and methodical, turning making love to me into a sensual savoring like he does with his favorite dessert. After each time he pulls back, he impales me harder and deeper, pulling a gratifying moan from me. “So good, baby…Ah, I need you forever, Breesan…” Marcus grunts, pushing and grinding his hips against me before kissing me sweetly and bringing me to a mind-blowing release. He follows a few minutes later, dragging out my rapture and wrapping me in the most loving embrace.
Knowing that I could have forever with this man makes my heart flip. Marcus is my forever and nothing will ever change that fact. There could never be another man made more perfectly for such an imperfect me. His love and devotion prevail against all the bad of today, over whatever evil awaits us in the future, and no matter what, I know that I can trust him through it all.
Chapter Twelve
Morgan
We arrive late in the evening on the island of Islamorada in the Florida Keys. Pulling up to the mansion in the Rolls Royce Ghost that Tac managed to procure, he provides the man positioned inside the guard shack with my name, like I’m some damn pop-star diva. After making a quick call confirming that I am an expected guest, the tall, armed security guard allows us to pass through the electronic gate lined with twelve more armed men.
“This is extreme,” Jack says, glaring at the twenty-thousand-square-foot residence. “What the hell did you have to do to get us into this fucking place?” His attitude about being with me and Tac tonight has subsided, but it’s still bordering on hostile. Once we met the other night, explaining our plan to use my relationship with Xavier to worm our way into this world, he saw the potential that it could lead to Waverly’s recovery. Both he and Tac will act as my body guards, a role that Jack’s performed naturally before. Now, he isn’t comfortable with the idea of keeping my ass safe. With my offer he’s agreed to suck it up and do his job.
“The only thing that could garner us access,” I shrugged, avoiding his animosity and insinuations.
“How much?” He growls, narrowing his intense glare on me from the front passenger seat. “And don’t fucking lie to me, Walker.”
I tip my head acknowledging him, but hesitate for another moment. My willingness to do anything and everything for the woman I love isn’t anything I’m ashamed of in the least. Honestly, it’s just that Jack will want to force his prideful attitude on this subject, and I’m in no mood for his bullshit tonight. As hard as Tac and I worked on getting him to agree to join us, this topic could most likely become a factor. Minutes before we venture into our nefarious plot isn’t the best time to tell him, but I need his ass to trust me. Pulling a flippant attitude, hoping to make him believe that the amount is insignificant, I reply coolly, “Entry was one hundred thousand.”
“Son of a bitch,” he grumbles, facing forward again.
“What’s a 100K to a rich bastard like him? Just a drop in the bucket, dude,” Tac’s eyes flick up, sparkling at me humorously in the rear view mirror. If we weren’t facing one of the suckiest nights of my life, I’d flip the fucker off for his inappropriate display. “Remember, this place will be like walking onto the set of The Truman Show; all eyes will be on us and they will hear every whisper. Work your magic on Xavier and get him to tell you about his trades. And pray that we can get the fuck out without drawing attention to ourselves.” Tac preaches again. He’s already reminded us no less than ten times that a passionless demeanor is a must to keep our asses alive.
“Got it,” I reply confidently.
“Yep,” is all Jack grumbles.
Parking in the driveway in front of the mansion, Tac tosses the keys to a valet and we’re escorted inside by two more guards. We are blinged out in Italy’s finest suits and shoes. Tac’s dark skin, hair and eyes are emphasized by the smooth black suit and gleaming loafers. Wearing the second suit I’ve ever seen him in, Jack’s dark blonde and auburn-tinted hair and menacing blue eyes gives him a lethal edge. Both guys are huge like me, but Tac has us by a couple of inches and the dude is seriously cut like no other man I’ve ever seen before. He must live, eat and breathe whey isolates and weight lifting.
“Mr. Walker?” a gleeful, heavyset middle-aged man chirps deep within the front room currently occupied by a few dozen other men. Every man here came with the same goals as which we did. However, the clear difference is our intent. These motherfuckers stand around smugly fantasizing about their potentials of behaving like gods over the lesser and weaker simply because they have the means. “You are Morgan Walker, correct?” The man approaches me, bringing me out of my disgusting musings. Even though the guy is sweating profusely, he smiles genuinely, appearing to be proud of his position in this vile industry. I would happily give another hundred grand to wipe the gloating look off his repugnant, fat face.
“Yes, I am,” I reply arrogantly.
“Fine, good.” Nodding, his greasy smile grows wickedly with my response. “I am Claude Barclay. Mr. Xavier apologizes for not greeting you personally. He was called away only moments ago, but he instructed me to show you to the gallery personally and remain at your side should you need anything. If you’ll follow me.” He turns on his heels and I glance over at Tac, unprepared for us to be shown the merchandise without a meeting with the proprietor first. Ignoring my glare, he falls in step with Claude. I had expected Xavier to slip into his role of entertainer, boasting on himself and allowing us the opportunity to glean some information. Gathering intel was the plan for tonight with the best case scenario being him trusting me and crowing about his masterful ability to acquire all of the women for his sex slave industry. “Gentlemen.�
� Our escort gestures toward a set of closed double doors before reaching for one of the knobs and holding open the door for us to enter. Dim lighting in the semicircular room sets the tone for what will be a dark and sinister night. The far wall is a solid dark-tinted glass with two tiers of plush captain’s chairs positioned in front of it, as if it were a stage. Two doors on both ends of the rows adorn more guards, indicating the area beyond is secured. Probably for VIP guests.
“Mr. Walker requests a private viewing room,” Tac instructs our host, just as he points toward the open front seats.
Smirking wickedly, Claude turns on his heels and thrusts a chubby hand in the direction of the entryway to the right. Falling in line behind our escort, Tac enters the hallway, followed by me with Jack bringing up the rear. The corridor veers around toward the left with doors on the same side, encircling the glass room viewing stage we just left. After leading us past ten doors, Claude forces open one of the heavy wooden doors, stepping inside and flipping on the light, which barely illuminates the small private room.
“I hope this is to your liking,” Claude states, pinning me with an arched eyebrow and tight smirk, insinuating that I should be more than pleased-or perhaps grateful-with the luxurious accommodations.
“It will do,” Tac responds for me after I give him a brisk nod, completely and intentionally ignoring the obese asshat. “Mr. Barclay, your assistance is no longer required. Should Mr. Walker need your services, one of us will retrieve you.”
“As you wish,” he strolls out of the room, leaving us to wait for the show to begin.
“I’m impressed with your quick thinking,” I offer Tac. “Should I ask how you would know about private rooms in a high-end brothel?” I chuckle at his slow head shake, but stifle it after catching Jack’s hateful stare. Tac pours me a tumbler of liquor and I sit in the single throne-like chair positioned in the center of the room facing the small wall of glass, still completely blacked out.
Clearing his throat before speaking with Jack, Tac gestures toward the door. “I don’t have a preference, but it makes more sense for the professional to remain on guard outside of this room. However, the women will begin filtering through soon. If you’re uncomfortable remaining in here…”
“Take your post in the corridor,” Jack snarls, crossing his thick arms over his chest, tightening the material in his tailored black suit. “And once you get out there, go fuck yourself.” Tac chuckles deeply, leaving us alone to pass the time before the depraved exhibition begins.
Breaking the heavy silence that falls between us immediately after Tac’s departure, Jack bitches, “I can’t believe that I agreed to this ludicrous idea.”
“What other choices do we have, Jack?” I rage, swiveling the chair around to face him directly. Lowering my tone, I hiss, “Because if you can suggest something else, anything else, that will get us closer to finding her, then please tell me. Maybe this won’t work, but I’m willing to try all ludicrous ideas rather than giving up hope.”
“How the fuck is it that you know this Xavier fucker?” He watches me expectantly.
“Truthfully,” I pause, disgusted with my answer, “my contacts came directly through my father.”
He grunts, “Sounds like the apple damn sure didn’t fall far from that perverse tree.” I leap from my chair, charging toward him standing with his back against the door, and close the eight feet separating us within seconds.
Fiercely and unafraid, I go off. “Except for what happened between me and your sister that night at Toxic, you don’t know shit. I am nothing like that bastard.” Supplied by my notorious past, my destructive relationships, and the look in Waverly’s eyes after leaving her behind the way I did, the hysteria unfurls in my mind.
“It’s enough for me to know that once we get her back, your association with my family, in all forms, is over. Apart from a reminder of heartache and suffering, you will mean nothing to Waverly.” He drops his arms and takes a step closer toward me, glowering smugly. “This whole ‘white knight rushing in to save the damsel’ bullshit might impress the chicks, but in my eyes, you’ll always be a piece of shit. There isn’t one fucking thing you can do that will ever redeem yourself,” he guarantees with an all-encompassing fury radiating through his words.
The mention of Waverly suffering cuts me deeply, and as much as I’ve tried to shut it out or deny that someone could hurt her, I know Jack is speaking the truth. Also, I know that once this whole fucked-up scene is behind us, no one in the Collins family will want anything to do with me. Not even Waverly. Reaching deep within, beyond my self-loathing, I bite my tongue and bury the snide remarks, only offering him a brief nod in response. Interrupting our exchange, the room beyond the glass sparks to life with a haunting and sparse glow. I return to my position.
Within seconds, a line of beautiful, elegantly dressed women step from a thin door across the way into the room and begin walking in a slow circle around the glass-encased cage. The confusion and pain etched into their features are barely obscured with the cake of professionally layered makeup and gauzy strips of silk and satin, but it is there. I can see it, and part of my soul screams at me to make their pain go away. Immediately my mind associates Waverly with them, and my sanity takes a crushing blow. The first woman in the long line slows her pace in front of my window and when she makes eye contact with me, I shudder in my kingly seat. Her nearly clear blue eyes and short blonde hair takes my breath away and my hands tremble when I spot a faint hint of a tattoo at the base of her neck. Waverly, my mind wails.
Rising from my chair with the intent to bust through the glass so I can wrap her up in my arms, I feel a firm hand land on my shoulder, settling me back down.
“Morgan, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’ll blow our cover,” Jack condemns lowly, trying to keep anyone from hearing us in this encased room. The women on the other side of the glass can’t see inside the mirror-tinted wall separating them from all the freaks here, but we know there are cameras all over the place.
“Waverly,” I hiss, thrashing away from Jack’s grip and rising to place my hands on the cold glass. She continues past and my eyes follow her until she’s no longer in my direct line of sight. Her name lodges in my chest. My eyes flicker up the slow-moving line sadly, seeing the next woman, and my breathing hitches loudly. “Waverly,” I moan faintly around the lump in my throat. What the hell? This beauty has the same tinted eyes and blonde hair with silky, teal tips, looking exactly like the previous woman and my little star.
“Tac,” Jack yells through the heavy wooden entry door.
I hear the door opening and closing behind me, but my hard gaze is transfixed on the lovely eyes staring straight into my soul. Her unsteady hand drifts up to the spot directly in front of me, as if she’s knows I’m here, reaching to stroke the side of my face. A guttural sound pulsates off the shatterproof wall when she continues forward on her journey around the circular room, and I realize the insane noise is my gut-wrenching screams.
Chapter Thirteen
Anna
Survival. Enduring, faking happiness, distraction methods that take your mind away from defeating scenarios, and continual forced reminders of goodness and love ever-present, basically doing everything you can to trick your mind into believing that you aren’t a victim.
But it’s all lies. I am a victim!
I’ve been a victim all of my life. This very moment, I am being held captive by a bad man, more evil than any person I’ve ever known…even him-the man responsible for making me a victim. I must remember it all and embrace it. Victims stay alive or sane because of trickery. What happens after the facade of a happy life fades away? I’m left with the regrets of a woman who hides. I hide behind friends who are able to deal with painful events, making them better. I keep my mind safe by blocking the horrible memories of him putting his hands on me. The memories--stronger, vivid and more acidic--flood my mind continually. Opening my eyes from the nightmares doesn’t stop them. They are ingrained front and cente
r, taunting me and demanding attention. I’ve neglected them for so many years, and now I have no escape techniques that will conquer the pain.
“You’re okay,” a soft male voice murmurs sweetly while comforting me with his warm embrace. It seeps into my tired and sore muscles, making me feel peaceful. With my eyes too weak to lift open, I nod and slip back into a restless sleep. The consuming darkness mockingly welcomes me with open arms.
“Little Princess,” my mother calls from the back porch. “It’s getting late. Tell Breesan goodbye.” She waits, holding open the door while smiling and waving me over.
“All right, Mommy,” I call back before spinning around to my group of best friends and offering my sad apology. “I gotta go now. Don’t forget the tea party tomorrow, Breesan.”
Breesan nods, while Tristan, Marcus, and Morgan groan and grunt unhappily about doing something girlie for a change. “Okay, Anna,” Breesan giggles, holding hands with the twins. “I’m walking home before it’s too dark. Bye.” She begins walking away, and all three boys walk to the edge of the sidewalk to watch her make it inside her house safely before turning around and joining me back inside my house.
“Boys, I called your grandmother,” my mom tells them while we plop down on the sofa in the playroom. “She’ll pick you up in half an hour.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Knight,” Tristan replies to my mom before turning to the boys. “Bones, we have to make sure the bad guy stays out tonight. Go to her room and set up your booby trap. McGee, you have stuff for her closet?” Marcus and Morgan nod together, answering him before leaving us to go up to my bedroom.
“Tristan, you promised not to tell anyone.” I grunt, stomping my foot and crossing my arms tightly, pouting because he betrayed my trust by revealing my terrible secret to them. I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s bad enough that he found me last weekend in my castle tower crying after being hurt. He promised me that he wouldn’t tell anyone that he found me that way or who it was that hurt me.
