by Layla Frost
I’m wearing his clothes.
I’m touching myself while wearing his clothes.
Something about that did it for me in a big way. I came hard, hoping I wasn’t making any noise but too lost to truly care. My body shuddered as I rubbed myself through one orgasm and into a second, my fantasy blooming as I imagined his body covering mine.
I could’ve gone for three, but with the edge taken off, shame replaced horniness.
I just got off thinking about Maximo.
That was so hot.
I mean, stupid. That was so stupid.
Getting out of bed, I used the bathroom and cleaned up, avoiding my reflection in the mirror.
I’m a pervert.
A happy and satisfied pervert.
Maximo
Panting, my lip curled in disgust.
I’m a sick fuck.
After my shower, I’d returned to my office to drink away my restless energy. The whiskey had sat mostly untouched, and I’d watched Juliet instead. Thank fuck I had, because after she’d fallen off the couch, I had no doubt she’d have tried to walk and hurt herself worse.
After carrying her to bed, I’d turned on the camera in her bedroom for the first time. I could’ve said I’d been making sure she settled okay, but I didn’t lie, even to myself. I’d wanted to climb into that damn bed with her so I could count every last sexy freckle on her body. Since that wasn’t an option, I’d settled for watching.
When she’d tossed and turned, I’d been about to offer her food, assuming hunger was keeping her awake. I sure as shit hadn’t expected to see her hand slide down her pants—my pants. My dick had gone rock hard as I’d watched her touch herself.
Not once—not even for one damn second—had I thought about turning off the camera.
I’d been too busy holding my waistband down with one hand so I could stroke myself with the other.
Too busy fantasizing she was thinking of me the same way I thought of her.
Too busy giving in to the sick need that seemed to grow with each passing day.
Too busy coming harder than I ever had.
Grabbing a handful of tissues, I wiped the come from my stomach and chest and tossed them out. Then I grabbed my whiskey and drained the glass before pouring another.
I might not have felt guilt during, but I sure as hell felt it after.
I kept the camera going when she went to the bathroom. Once she was back in bed, I turned it off and picked up my cell, bringing up my texts with Ash.
Me: Disconnect the bedroom camera tomorrow.
I switched to my ones with Freddy.
Me: Regular menu for J tomorrow.
I thought for a moment before adding one more order.
Me: And a large mug of your good coffee.
I’ll talk to Vera in the morning since she doesn’t check her phone.
Putting my cell down, I knocked back whiskey until I was too drunk to do something stupid.
Or stupider.
Juliet
I woke slowly, feeling rested and not nearly as sore as I’d been.
What time is it?
The men had been getting me up early every day, but I had the distinct feeling it was late.
After taking off my ankle brace, I stretched my foot. A jolt of pain still shot up my calf, so I played it safe and used the scooter to get to the bathroom. By the time I showered and got back to the room, there was a new outfit waiting on my bed.
Black leggings, a gray, slouchy tee, and undies with a matching bralette that were different than the basic cotton ones I’d been given.
Is this just another layer of cruelty meant to build my hopes before shattering them?
I hurried and dressed—though my cheeks heated as I realized how much I missed his joggers. When I scootered into the sitting room, breakfast was already sitting on the table with two domes on the tray. But that wasn’t the most exciting part.
Ms. Vera was.
“You’re back.” I grinned, happiness flowing through me.
“Hi, pretty girl,” she greeted. “Sit.”
I did it immediately, not wanting to give her any reason to leave. She handed me water and my antibiotics before inspecting my scrapes. They were all healed or scabbed over, so there was no need for ointment.
Once she was done looking me over, she moved toward the door. I opened my mouth, ready to beg her to stay, but she just grabbed her cleaning supplies from a carrier.
“Eat,” she ordered as she started dusting. Usually it was a pointless chore, but since she hadn’t been coming, there was actually a little buildup. Not much, but something.
Doing as she said, I checked out the two domed tray. Lifting one revealed eggs Benedict on an English muffin with a side of delicious looking home fries.
No sage.
No rosemary.
No oregano.
I was almost nervous to life the other dome, like there’d be a note announcing the food was fake or poisoned. But when I tentatively peaked under, I saw a large bowl of fresh fruit salad and coffee.
A big coffee.
The delicious aroma flowed free with the heavy barrier out of the way.
I looked up and grinned at Ms. Vera. “This looks amazing.”
“Don’t just drink that coffee, you need to eat. You’re far too skinny.” Returning to get something out of her carrier, she gave me a small smile as she tossed my iPad onto the couch. “Why don’t you read?”
My heart surged at seeing my shiny precious again. As excited as I was to have it back, being able to have a conversation was even better.
“How are you?” I asked.
While she cleaned, Ms. Vera talked about errands and a good book she was reading. I happily listened and dug into the food, eating almost the entire plate. Not even a single drop of coffee went to waste. I savored it as I ate and then sat back, holding the mug under my nose.
Ms. Vera came from the bedroom and picked up my mostly empty tray. When she was almost to the door, she tossed over her shoulder, “Relax. Read. Maybe even watch some TV.”
TV?
Before I could speak, she was gone.
I already got Ms. Vera, my iPad, delicious food, and even better coffee. Could I possibly be lucky enough to have TV back, too?
Holding my breath, I hit the power button on the remote. When the TV turned on, it whooshed out in a small, “Yay.”
Not only did I have TV, I had all the stations again.
I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to watch TV or read, so I decided to do both. Picking a movie I didn’t have to pay close attention to, I opened iBooks before nearly dropped my precious.
I can’t believe it.
Rather than dull mysteries and stodgy nonfiction, there were hundreds of choices downloaded.
Hundreds.
Dystopian Young Adult. Biographies. Ones that looked like school textbooks. Serial killers, romances, paranormal, fantasy, and everything in between.
That time, my yay wasn’t soft. It was loud. As was my shouted, “Thank you!”
I wasn’t sure if anyone could hear me, but I said it anyway.
And then I curled up on the couch with the good mug of coffee and a good book.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ring-O-Fire
Juliet
“DO YOU THINK I could do tricks with this?” Even though I didn’t need it anymore, I scootered in circles around the couch. “Maybe a sick kickflip or some ramps. Oh! I know. I could try to scooter my way through the ring-o-fire.”
“Ring-o-fire?” Ms. Vera asked, setting my lunch tray down.
For a glorious week, I’d devoured amazing food. Devastatingly, the coffee had been a one-time treat, but lunch had started including a mini can of Diet Coke. Coffee was my first love, but Diet Coke was a close second.
I’d taken baths with bombs and salts and oils and whatever other fruity fragranced items my bathroom was stocked with. I’d binged movies. I’d read.
As amazing as it’d been—especially comp
ared to my real life or a slow death in the desert sun—I was beginning to go stir-crazy again. A happier stir-crazy than last time, but still.
“Sit and eat,” Ms. Vera said.
“I will. I just need to finish my laps. I’m training for the scooter X Games and since my ankle is better, my time is limited.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your lunch time is limited today, too.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Freddy made you a BLT and soup, and if you don’t eat it, I will.” I almost believed her until I saw her smile.
I was good at reading people. Dad had taught me all about tells and cues, and I’d gotten good at picking up on them to avoid getting wailed on.
Ms. Vera had a big one.
Her mischievous smile.
My eyes narrowed. “What do you know?”
“Nothing. Now eat.”
“I’ll eat when you tell me what you know.”
She sighed. “Fine. Starve. Mr. Freddy’s broccoli cheese soup is my favorite.”
“Never mind,” I said, scootering over so fast, I nearly knocked into the table. I sat and removed the dome.
Holy shit, I could’ve sworn my birthday was a couple weeks ago, but maybe it’s today.
Picking up the soft white-bread sandwich, I bit in to the salty, tangy, fresh BLT and moaned. “Sometimes the basics really are the best.”
She gave me a pointed look for talking with my mouth full. “Manners.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, extending my pinkies.
“You’re a silly girl today,” she said, but I wasn’t sure she meant it as a compliment.
“I’m in a good mood,” I said. Probably a better one than I had any right being in, all things considered.
Darkness pushed in, threatening to steal my appetite and good mood.
Into the box.
Into the box.
There.
Crazily enough, I was pretty sure Ms. Vera read my internal battle because she busted out the big guns to distract me. “There’s a visitor coming tomorrow morning.”
Maximo.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d carried me to bed. Which was probably for the best because I doubted I could face him. I’d promised myself I’d never think about him when I touched myself again. It was wrong and stupid and more than a little sleazy.
But I still did it.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“A tutor.”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
They know.
A pit in my belly grew even as a thrum of excitement buzzed through me.
“Why?” I asked, playing dumb.
“He’s going to see what areas you need help with so you can graduate.”
All areas.
Shame burned my cheeks. I didn’t want anyone to know how far behind I was.
I didn’t want them to know I was a high school dropout who’d only made it partway through tenth grade before her asshole father had decided school wasn’t a priority.
Appetite dead and gone, I nearly gagged on the bite of sandwich that suddenly felt like a chunk of asphalt. “I appreciate it, but I’ve already graduated.”
Ms. Vera’s eyes flashed with anger, and her easygoing, motherly disposition was gone. Or maybe she became more motherly because she looked ready to ground me. “Listen to me. Mr. Maximo hates liars. Learn this lesson and learn it fast. Learn it until it becomes as ingrained in your head as your own name. He will not tolerate liars. Not ever. Do you understand?”
I nodded because what was there to misconstrue?
“An education is important,” she continued. “A priceless gift that others die for.”
Finding my courage, I asked, “He knows I dropped out?”
“He knows you were,” she lifted her hands to make air quotes, “homeschooled.”
“That’s really embarrassing,” I muttered.
“No, embarrassing would be having this opportunity and then turning it down because of stupid pride. Men throw away their lives for pride. Women are smarter.”
She has a point.
I focused on the excitement that flowed through me, allowing it to dim some of the shame. I’d always told myself I’d go back for my GED. Getting a tutor meant I wouldn’t have to wait.
My stomach loosened enough that I could eat a spoonful of the amazingly creamy soup. Then another. And a bunch more until the bowl was empty.
Only after I was full to bursting did Ms. Vera speak again, her expression somber. “Mr. Maximo is trusting you to work with the tutor in the dining room.”
“I won’t do anything stupid,” I vowed truthfully.
I’m not interested in a painful death in the scalding sunlight.
She gave a single nod. “The tutor owes Mr. Maximo a large sum of money. He’s agreed to work with you to settle those debts. He will not rescue you. He will not go to the cops. He knows you’re not here by choice, and he does not care. He cares about himself and staying alive.”
But I am here by choice now.
Wait, what?
Shut up, brain.
Keeping that insane thought to myself, I repeated, “I won’t do anything stupid.”
“If, for some reason, he tries to help you, he’ll be dealt with and so will you, sweet girl. Last week will seem like a vacation by comparison.”
With that ominous warning, she grabbed my tray and left.
_______________
Ms. Vera was only gone for a half hour before she returned, carrying a canvas tote.
“What’s up?” I asked, surprised to see her so soon. Usually she only came at mealtimes.
“I said you had plans this afternoon.” She reached into the bag and tossed me something.
I looked down to see what I’d caught.
A razor.
Well, it has been a while since I’ve been able to shave, but I don’t think it’ll take all afternoon.
She pulled something else out.
A pretty mauve two-piece.
“I can go outside?” I asked. “I can go swimming?”
She nodded and handed me the suit, plus a pair of flip-flops and a coverup. “Go change.”
Don’t gotta tell me twice.
I rushed into the bathroom and stripped down. Sitting on the side of the tub, I shaved my legs as quickly as I could without nicking myself and bleeding out just as I was about to get a taste of freedom. I pulled on the bottoms and ran my fingers along the scalloped edge. The top had the same detailing on its square neckline.
I’d have gone out in my underwear or a garbage bag if it meant swimming, but it was still nice to wear something so cute.
Throwing on the coverup and sliding on the flip-flops, I literally ran back into the sitting room. “Ready.”
She gestured for me to spin around. “Sunblock.”
“Good idea.”
My painful sunburn from my failed escape was not an experience I was jonesing to repeat. Nor was the itching, disgusting peeling that’d followed.
Ms. Vera rubbed the coconut-scented lotion into my back before handing me the bottle to do the rest. I was just finishing turning myself into a human piña colada when no-longer-ignoring-me goon—or Cole, as I’d learned—opened the door.
He’d stopped glaring and had started half-smiling at me, so I’d taken that to mean he’d forgiven me for the room fiasco. Even glaring goon—or Marco—had warmed up to just ignoring me.
Progress all around.
Since Cole had ditched his suit for slacks and a tee, I wasn’t surprised when he followed Ms. Vera and me.
The only time I’d been in the hallway, I’d been drugged, high on pain meds, or running for my life. Since I was awake and not fleeing at top speed, my eyes darted all around, trying to take in everything at once.
There was beautiful Vegas themed art and photography on the light-gray walls. The plush carpet was white and shockingly spotless.
And there were doors. Twelve doors.
Who has twelve doors i
n their upstairs alone?
Two of them had weird locks that looked like something from a spy movie.
Intriguing.
I looked over my shoulder to see my room had one, too.
Are there other people held here?
No, I’d have heard.
Right?
After going downstairs, we turned toward the back of the house, passing the living room, dining room, another living room, and some closed doors. I gawked at the size of the place.
Who lives like this?
It was masculine and though it was lavish, there was an emphasis on comfort and coolness. It reminded me of the houses on old episodes of MTV Cribs that were decked out and upgraded with every feature available.
Reaching a sliding glass door at the back of the house, Vera opened it. The dry heat hit like a wall.
Even after living in Vegas for a couple years, I wasn’t used to the weather. I’d spent most of my life in places where blizzards in March were common, so it being hot enough to swim was bizarre.
Glorious, but bizarre.
I stepped outside and shielded my eyes from the blinding sun as I craned my neck to take in the house.
No, it wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. No. It was whatever was bigger than a mansion. I had no idea how many rooms there were, but there were a hell of a lot of tinted windows. One appeared to be floor to ceiling and was the width of three other windows combined.
I wonder what’s in there?
Spinning back toward the lawn, excitement buzzed through me as if I’d chugged four cups of coffee. I wanted to touch and smell every plant. I wanted to spread out on one of the thickly cushioned lounge chairs and soak in the sun. But more than anything, I wanted to dive into the gorgeous blue water and swim until I was a wrinkly prune.
As I followed Ms. Vera and Cole to the patio, I realized that what I could see from my window was a very small fraction of the unusually shaped pool. The thing was massive. It even had a wide waterfall pouring from a rounded, stacked rock mound.
I kicked off my shoes and tossed my coverup onto a lounger before walking along the stone deck, occasionally dipping my toes into the warm water. When I got to the other end, there was a rectangular planter of rocks that separated the pool from a hot tub. I got a little closer and realized the planter was actually a fire pit that could be accessed from either side.
This is insane.
