by Lana Hartley
Carrie’s eyes flutter open, a flicker of lust blazing through her when her eyes capture mine. She looks at my lips, and I stop breathing. I watch her lean closer, closing her eyes again, parting her lips.
Carrie is going to kiss me. I am shaken and needy, my lips trembling when hers wisp across mine, her tongue entering my mouth. She pulls back and breaks the kiss.
“You won’t lie to me?” she asks.
“No,” I breathe, my chest expanding so much that my heated skin touches hers, slicked with soap.
“You never have?” Carrie’s voice is raw, her throat sounding scratchy with the question.
I drop the sponge and pull her around so that she’s on my lap. “No.”
Carrie’s legs wrap around me and her hands cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. She pulls closer to me and I cannot restrain myself any longer. I squeeze her tight against me until neither of us has air in our lungs, my actions matching my need.
“I shouldn’t stay,” says Carrie, but her eyes are blazing.
I want to bite her lip, but I want to listen more. My fingers trail down to the small of her back and my thumb draws a circle in the dimple just above her ass.
“I don’t think I want to leave,” Carrie says, and she sound crestfallen. Her forehead presses against mine. I close my eyes and feel her, feel her breathing, feel her lips ghost over mine and her little nose pressing into my own. “I’m afraid I’ll never feel as free as I do when you have me.”
Carrie’s words scorch through me. My heart could stop now, beat itself to death, with how intense I feel about what she’s just said.
Her lips crash over mine, hips rolling. The kiss is fierce with a passion that I knew lived inside her. I know she’s tired, and I wonder what brings out this surge of energy in her. When she finally breaks our kiss, gasping, she lays her head against my shoulder and looks up at me.
“I think I need to sleep for a thousand years.” She sighs.
“Let me finish washing you, and then you can slumber till you want to wake up,” I reply hoarsely. I mean every word. I don’t want to give her up. I won’t ask her to come to my bed. Not after how little control I had, how I let myself touch her so soon after I took her, after everything she’s been through. I’m a fucking monster, and I’ve never cared about that until I realized I wanted to mold someone else into a monster, too.
I bring the sponge back to the rest of her body parts until she’s sudsy, and she slips under the water to rinse herself. I watch her as she rises, a lightness to her mood that I’ve never seen in anyone. When she opens her eyes, she smiles.
I’ll never be as good as Carrie. I pray she’ll never be as dark as me. But if our fates weren’t already locked together, I sealed that when I took her. Touched her.
“Do my hair tomorrow, please.” Carrie yawns and stretches out her arms. She stands and steps out of the tub, and I pull the bath plug and start to drain the water.
I watch her grab one of the towels from the steel shelves beside the tub. I want to towel off Carrie’s wet body and scoop her back up in my arms, drag her to my bed, wrap my arms around her and fall asleep with my face buried in her neck.
“I don’t want to sleep alone.” Carrie looks down, as if she feels guilty. “Are you comfortable with…cuddling?” She says the word like it’s foreign.
If only I could lie to her, separate the tethers she has on my soul. That’s not what could save me.
I need someone to love me when I’ve never loved anything my whole life.
“I’ve actually never done that, either,” I tell her. I stand from the tub. She turns and hands me a towel. “I would like to.” I hold out my hand to touch her face.
“I’m tired. I’m tired of being alone, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay.” Carrie says, and her hand closes over my extended one, pulling it down and holding it as she leads me out of the bathroom. I drop both of our towels into the hamper next to the sinks, careful not to use the opportunity of her baring her body to be a lecherous monster.
I swallow when we’re in front of my four poster cherry wood bed, and watch her climb in. I go to the other side of the bed and slide under the covers, pulling the duvet and sheets over her as well. Carrie grabs my hand as I finish. I slide my body close to hers, giving in and fully holding her against me where she’s captured my arm. Pressed against me like she is, I hear her breathing slow. I dare to bring my face to her neck, pressing my lips there and feeling her pulse. I close my eyes. I know she’s falling asleep. I am, too.
Carrie
I wake up in Jeremy's large four-poster bed and I am moved to tears to know what I have just been through on account of him. Last night was intense and amazing but the way I've gotten to this point is troubling. He's essentially my captor and he's murdered so many people right in front of me...how can I possibly stay? Visions sweep my mind of the classmates who used to taunt me but are now dead.
"You're so weird. God, Carrie, get a life!"
"Oh, her parents are social climbers, she's not that rich."
"This girl is always hanging around us, it's creepy."
"Look what she's wearing! Hahaha, hahaha."
The cackles of laughter descend in my memory as I'm reminded of all the hardship and torture those classmates put me through. I was constantly bullied by them, but does that give Jeremy the right to have killed them? Does he somehow think that's what I would have wanted?
For a moment or two, I consider crawling out the window, down the branches of ivy that cover the outside stone, and I think about running for my life. Is my life even at stake? I innately want to trust Jeremy, but maybe that is my lust for him talking. I mean, how can you trust a murderer? What if this is all part of some sick plan and he wants to fuck me into eternity before expunging me from the planet? I think he would never hurt me but I can't be sure. At the same time, every part of me is saying to stay, at least a little longer.
So, I pull myself out of his plush, comfy bed. I rise and meet the sun, wondering what the day will hold. And then I tiptoe down the hall to the room he's assigned to me. I graze my fingers over the soft, opulent clothes. Hmmm, Gucci, Valentino, Hermes...fuck, what do I wear for him? Despite all my misgivings, my soul is still pining for him and I want to look perfect. In the end, I just pull on a pair of jeans and some cashmere t-shirt. I walk barefoot downstairs and search for him. In the light of day, this place is more ethereal than I remember. There's decadence everywhere, layers upon layers of rich red and black and purple curtains, soft rugs, ancient antiques and I feel like I'm in a castle. In fact, it's a little like Beauty and the Beast, only my beast is much, much darker.
I find the kitchen, needing some coffee or something, and guess who's standing there but my very own tormentor. He's cooking something fabulous, and I can see his muscles outlined under his thin white t-shirt.
"Hi," I almost whisper not knowing where we stand this morning.
He whips around immediately and plants a kiss on my cheek before escorting me to a fully decked out table. It's a kind of breakfast nook, but lavishly spread with fine china and crystal and a large arrangement of assorted roses in the center. Does he dine like this every day? The table is impeccably set for four people. I take a seat and look out the iron-plated windows onto a countryside so vast that I feel at peace, for the first time in days. There are sheep grazing in the fields and a distant forest that is calling my name for a stroll. His palace is truly amazing and I feel gifted to be here, but there is also this deep pull in my tummy of an unsatisfied future. I have no idea what to do here or how long I will stay.
He's looking at me intently and I wonder if he's reading my thoughts of escaping, or staying.
"Mimosa?" He comes over to me and pours the finest champagne in my crystal flute and tops it off with orange juice.
"Yum," I say. "A girl could get used to this."
He looks at me with a hard gaze in his eyes, "Well, I hope you do...get used to it."
He wants me
to stay. Hell, maybe he will make me stay. I don't know. In the background I see the news playing on a small flat screen he has in the kitchen. My parents flash across the screen and I ask him to turn it up. He does so before plating my gourmet breakfast and bringing it with his to come join me. We sit and listen as my parents deflect all truth from the media.
"She's had a breakdown," my mother is saying all dramatically to some reporter. Tears now run down her face and I wonder how she can manage to cry on cue like that.
"Our daughter is in a mental institution now," my father lies. "She's traumatized. She couldn't handle the death of her friends and that's the best place for her at this moment."
My mother is sure to add, "She is writing a book about her grief as it helps her therapeutically."
I am enraged. I look at Jeremy.
"They're just lying to save face. You know they're not even looking for me." My heart sinks as this evidence sets in. I am yet again disappointed by my parents. Why would I think they'd start to love me now?
Jeremy puts his hand over mine and it sends a thrill down my spine but I suppress that desire. He is quick to comfort me and he says, "That's not exactly true. They have hired a private investigator to find you, because the police said that since you're legally an adult their hands are tied. So they are looking."
"Yeah because they need my face on this to make a living."
I find comfort in his eyes that are imploring me to stay with him.
"Why don't the police have more questions for me?" I wonder aloud. "I am their star witness."
"That's the thing," Jeremy says. "They've pegged it on someone else. He was a student, prone to violent outbursts and he has no alibi. That's who they think did it."
A subtle smile reveals that Jeremy is happy to have gotten away with the crime.
"Here," he says handing me the phone. "You can call whoever you want, your parents, the police...the choice is yours."
"No." I take a long sip of my mimosa. "There's no one to call."
His eyes light up with possessiveness and I can see I've made Jeremy extremely happy by choosing to stay...for now.
Jeremy
Carrie and I have spent a relaxing day together. Though the morning's news rattled her a bit, she seems calmer now and more content. She is wise for her age and she seems like an old soul, able to take life’s grievances in her stride. When I tell her this I can see that she recognizes in my eyes the pride I feel for her and that it makes her happy. She is extremely intelligent and that makes her more becoming to me.
I took her for a walk around the grounds and she's sleeping now. My poor darling has had the weight of the world on her shoulders and I want to unburden her. If I could take away all the pain and stress she's endured then I would be happy. But I can only take as much as she will give and for now, though I know she is fascinated by me, I also know that she doesn't quite trust me yet. That's why I've planned a special evening to give her something new to focus on.
As it is, I've spent the day just watching Carrie. Her every movement makes me stare in wonderment, and in awe, of this being I've managed to capture. Like a butterfly too beautiful to set free, she must be caged and caught so that someone like me can witness her beauty unfettered. I am so in love, or lust, or in adoration of her that it surprises even me. She's been a champ at handling this break from everything she knew. It's not like she was happy in the life I stole her from, but it was at least hers. Here, in my palatial estate, it really does feel like she's my prisoner. Despite my attempts to let her know that she has choices and she can roam free, I think she and I both know that I will never fully let her go. I will always be there in the shadows, watching her, making sure she's alright. She is like magic and there's only so much willpower I have over that. At this point, I will take Carrie however I can get her. Though I am the one in control here, she has me basically on my knees, begging for her to stay. I would of course never reveal this to her but I'm getting in deep, I'm falling in love, and if she left me now I'd be devastated. I want her. I only want her.
My love and this exciting time in my life seem worth sharing, and there's only one person I can trust with a secret this delicious- Carter. He's the closest thing I have to a brother and I know he'll be interested in news like this. I am never absorbed in a girl for longer than one night, so he'll be keen to see the one who's grabbed my attention. Carter has a way about him that might charm Carrie and help her to feel more comfortable in her new surroundings. At least that is my hope.
There is a sense of disquiet within me however, an unease at the thought of them meeting. I cannot ignore the anxious feelings that arise with the thought of having Carter over. He can be intimidating and I don't want him to scare her off. I hope she sees in him a brother figure that is part of this life and in whom she can trust. I'd like us all to be a family. This is my first and only shot at having something resembling a normal life. Sometimes I feel isolated in my rare corner of the world and though I can have any extravagance, nothing can compare to the feeling of creating a true dynasty with the people I love.
It's been Carter and me for some years now. He's the only one who knows my business because we basically started together. I couldn't honestly hide Carrie from him, he'd find out eventually, so having him over seems like the best course of action. There is a side to him that is unpredictable though and I hope it doesn't come out tonight. I don't want Carter to spook her. I hope he's well-behaved and that he recognizes Carrie for what she is… my treasure.
I'm in the kitchen preparing the five course meal that I have planned for tonight. Cooking is another passion of mine, a hobby, and I think Carrie sees why and that she appreciates my efforts. I want her to have every luxury while she's here and I don't want the prying eyes of some private chef on her. In fact, the more I think about it the more unsure I am if Carter should even be here. I don't want his prying eyes on Carrie either. She is mine and I feel possessive of her to a degree that I've never felt before. Even sharing her presence is hard for me. I’m jealous that Carter will get to be in the same room with her as so far it’s been just me. I’ve been the only man she’s laid eyes on in quite a while and I like it that way. It arouses me to think about how wrapped up in me she has been. Trust or no trust I’ve been the only one to see her, to kiss her skin, to taste her sweet little pussy that is always wet for my hungry mouth. I want her as my sole possession, but I wonder how I could ever achieve that? I have her tucked away in my part of the world but eventually she will have to see people. I don't want her to feel isolated either. Maybe she will find a friend in Carter? And with that I push the thoughts out of my head and refuse to think of anything negative. This evening will go flawlessly and then we can all move forward together, that is my plan.
Carrie
After a restful day, I am in my room getting ready for dinner. I'm taking special care to put every hair in place and to arrange myself perfectly for Jeremy. I want to ignite that lust that I know he is constantly feeling for me. I want his eyes to take me in and devour me so that he cannot look away.
I've chosen the long red Valentino dress that clings tightly to my every curve. The dress is on the bed as I'm sitting in my lingerie at the vanity provided for my comfort. I haven't seen Jeremy in a while and I'm antsy to just see his face and connect. When I'm not with him I feel a heavy sense of isolation and loneliness, especially when I consider my place in the world at this moment. It's so precarious, all I've seen and done, and I'm eager to be held by Jeremy. The weight of his sculpted arms will bring me back down to earth. He centers me. He's like my point of gravity and the world melts away and I melt into him. After applying extra eyelashes to make myself look fierce, I swipe on some crimson lipstick, and then step into the gorgeous red gown I've chosen. I hope Jeremy likes it. It fits like a glove and I idly wonder how he knew my measurements so perfectly.
As I leave my room, hair swept up with a few loose curls cascading down my back, I can hear music playing. It's opera music, and I think
how romantic it always is of Jeremy to set the scene in such a beautiful way when it's just us dining together.
When I reach the dining hall, however, there is a man there but it's not Jeremy. I feel startled and I stand in the stone archway, waiting to be noticed. Notice me he does and he quickly rises and comes to greet me. This guy is hot, not as handsome as Jeremy, but close. He's probably a few years older.
"Hi there." His voice is smooth, almost too smooth, and he takes in the look of me with not a hint of pretending. He's eyeing me up and down and I think how rude it is when I am a guest...or prisoner, of Jeremy's, not his.
"I'm Carter. Won't you please come join me?"
He takes my hand and leads me to a seat next to him. "Thank you," I reply a little stiffly. Who is this stranger?
"Been here long?" He offers to pour me some wine and I allow it.
"Not really," I say vaguely, wanting to cast his attention off of me.
Just then, to my delight, Jeremy enters with some hors d'oeuvres. His eyes light up in a profound way once he realizes what I'm wearing. He stands next to me and kisses my cheek lightly all under Carter's watchful gaze.
"So you've met Carter?" Jeremy says as he takes a seat at the head of the long dining table.
"Yes, we met just a moment ago," Carter responds and his eyes are dancing and I don't know why. What is it about this guy that makes me so uncomfortable?
"Yes, Carrie, he and I met in school a long time ago and Carter is really the only family I have left. I consider him friend and family." They clink their wine glasses together on this note. I find myself wondering what their history is. This is the first person of note that I've met who's a part of Jeremy's life. I want to make a good impression, but something about this man comes off cold and calculating like there is no depth behind his eyes, just a private reserve of something chilling, like untold secrets.
