by Rene Webb
“Now, it’s time for a warm bath,” the man says, stepping out of the shower and turning on the bath’s taps.
How many times are we going to shower and bathe? I don’t think I have ever been this clean!
“Get in,” he tells me, taking my hand and helping me step over the ledge of the tub. “Sit and relax. The hot water will be good for your cunt.”
“Okay,” I say, sinking deeper into the water, letting the warmth cover and relax me. As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. The warm water feels good against my tender skin.
I hear a loud knock on the bathroom door, and I jump. My heart begins beating faster, and I reach up to grab his hand. This man’s presence is no longer frightening, but reassuring.
“Don’t worry, Princess,” he growls, crouching down and kissing my temple gently. “They’re just here to strip the bed and deliver more towels.”
“Sir?” I breathe out.
“You’re not getting rid of me,” he states, fisting the back of my hair and pulling me into a rough, possessive kiss. “Stay in here until they leave.”
He rises and leaves the bathroom, his loud, demanding voice carrying through the door.
I sink back and let the hot water slowly envelop me as the tub continues to fill. For the first time since the man entered the room this evening, I truly let my mind wander, trying to puzzle out his conflicting behavior.
On the one hand, he’s sweet and gentle, on the other, he’s gruff and coarse. He scares me, but I’m not afraid of him. I know he would never physically hurt me. Yet his gruffness and anger can be unsettling at times.
Then there is the sex. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I willingly slept with this man, that I asked him to have sex with me. Not only that, but that I enjoyed nearly every second of it. Despite my initial nervousness, having him watch me masturbate was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done. I still can’t believe I went along with it. Or how much it turned me on.
There is movement coming from the other room, followed by the low murmur of voices; it is punctuated by the man’s impatient response, all of which I cannot understand. Sinking lower into the tub, I tune out my surroundings and focus on what just occurred between the man and me.
How it had felt to touch him, to have him watch me, taste me, touch me, fuck me. How it had felt when he came inside of me. I push aside the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom and all those life altering repercussions. Instead, I focus on his body collapsing against mine with spent pleasure, and the knowledge that I had done that to him. There’s an odd power in knowing I did that to him. That he enjoyed sex as much as I did. He’s not a man to say things he doesn’t mean, so when he says he thought it was amazing I have to believe him.
I wonder if he would take me with him, help me escape. Or at least come back to see me.
Suddenly the doorknob turns and begins to swing open. I wrap my knees against my chest, shielding my naked body. The man’s angry voice sounds and the intruder backs out quickly. I release the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding in.
The shiver that runs through me has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the men outside the bathroom door.
Straining my ears, I can hear the others depart the room and the man’s heavy footsteps striding toward the bathroom.
“It’s just me,” he says loudly, knocking once before pushing the door open.
Looking up as he enters, I see his face is set into a scowl. His eyebrows are scrunched up into a thick angry line. His fists tighten around the towels he is holding.
“Relax, they’re gone,” he says in a low growl, which has me pushing back further into the corner of the tub. I no longer fear this man physically, but my whole body is a live wire of nerves. I can’t help but be set on edge by the angry and annoyed vibe he is projecting.
I watch as he turns toward the vanity and begins pulling open the draws and rifling through them, clearly looking for something.
“What are you looking for?” I find myself asking.
“A fucking hairbrush,” he mutters tersely.
Letting myself relax under the effects of the hot water, I reach up and touch the mess that is my hair. Although clean thanks to my frequent showers, it’s a mass of unruly tangles.
“I could use one,” I tell him, trying to finger comb it as best as possible.
“This cheap plastic comb will have to do.”
The man walks toward the tub with a folded towel and the comb in his hand. He turns off the water, then surprises me by putting the towel down on the floor by the edge and kneeling down onto it.
“Turn around,” he states firmly, holding up the comb.
“Thank you, I can do it.” I reach out to grab the comb from his hand. I may not have a super sensitive head, but I don’t want him angrily pulling and tugging through my snarls.
“I’ll do it,” he says again. “Just turn around and relax.”
“Fine.” I huff, knowing I won’t win an argument with this man. Turning my body so my hair is over the side of the tub, I brace myself.
The man gathers my hair in his large hands and splits it into two equal sections. Taking one section, he starts at the bottom and begins to comb through it expertly.
“How’d you learn to do this?” I ask incredulously.
“I used to have long hair.”
Surprised, I quickly twist my body to face him. “Really?”
“It was a long time ago,” he says with a grin. “I was an unkempt college student.”
Placing his hand on the crown of my head, he redirects me back into position.
“Why did you cut it?” I can’t help but be intrigued, wondering what he looked like with long, dark, and no doubt wavy hair.
The man hesitates before answering. “Someone suggested that it would be better if I looked more corporate.”
“Sounds like something my dad would say,” I scoff; my dad hadn’t liked it when I dyed my hair purple in junior high school.
The man continues to gently comb my hair, lulling me into a peacefully relaxed state.
“How’s your cunt feeling?” he asks, breaking the silence as he continues his methodical combing of my hair.
“Umm ... ” I mutter, inexplicably embarrassed, considering all that we had shared.
He leans forward and slips one of his hands into the water, running it down my stomach and gently cupping my pussy. I quickly grab his wrist, attempting to restrain him.
“Sir.”
“Is the hot water helping any?”
“Yes,” I answer truthfully.
“Good.” He kisses my neck, sending an unwanted shock of pleasure through my body. He lazily pets me for several moments before removing his hand and continuing to comb through my tangles.
Once he’s satisfied with the state of my hair, he stands and shakes out the towel he was kneeling on. Waiting.
I slowly unfold myself and stand up in the tub.
“Let’s get you dried off.” The man steps forward and wraps the towel tightly around my body. Taking my arm, he helps me step out of the tub before grabbing another towel and beginning to run it roughly along my shoulders, warming me.
“Was there any lotion?”
“What?”
“Lotion.”
If it weren’t for the humidity, I would be a scratching, flaky mess already.
“But you’re clean, why would you put lotion on now?” the man asks, genuinely confused.
“So my skin doesn’t dry out.”
“I saw some in the top draw,” he says, pointing toward the vanity before adding, “I’m going to make sure the bed is ready.”
Before I can say anything in reply, the man has left the bathroom, and I can hear him moving around the bedroom.
I quickly find the lotion, a cheap generic hotel brand, and begin lathering my arms and legs with it.
“Time for bed,” he says, walking back into the bathroom.
“Sir.”
&nb
sp; How could I possibly tell him that I don’t want to have sex again? I have no doubt he’d honor my request, but then he might leave. And I’d be back locked up in the stuffy closet again, alone.
Alone and waiting for the next unknown man to pay for me. The truth I don’t dare admit to myself is, I like this man. He may be gruff and demanding, but he is also considerate, intelligent, and has a hidden kindness that I have been lucky enough to see on several occasions. “Sir,” I begin again, taking a shuddering breath and whispering, “I’m still sore.”
“My poor princess,” the man says, fisting the hair at the back of my head and imprisoning me while he leans in and gives me a surprisingly gentle kiss. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“In the morning?” I ask confused, slightly dazed.
“Yes, let’s go to bed.” He takes my hand, and we walk quickly into the bedroom. But not before he picks up his watch and clothing on the way out, tucking them under his arm and gripping my hand with his free one.
The bed has been completely stripped and remade, the covers turned down as if waiting for us to get in. I notice the remnants of our dinner have been removed, and the man’s jacket is now draped neatly over one of the chairs.
Stopping at the side of the bed, the man pulls off the towel from around my body and guides me toward the edge of the bed, patting my ass lightly and saying, “Get in.”
Quickly, I scurry under the covers and pull them up underneath my chin.
The man neatly adds his clothes to mine before he walks over to the light switch and flicks it off, shrouding us in almost darkness. I shiver and grip the blankets tightly as he moves to shut the curtains on the window.
“Please don’t,” I whisper in a panic, not wanting to be in the complete darkness. “Can we leave them open?”
He looks over at me, his brow furrowed as his hand releases the curtain. “Whatever you want, Princess.”
Walking around the other side of the bed, he places his watch on the bedside table before dropping his towel and crawling in next to me, naked.
I roll over onto my side, facing him, and pull the blankets up over my shoulder, clutching them tightly in front of me.
“God, this mattress is horrible,” he groans, laying down and pulling the blankets up over his waist, leaving his chest bare. “How can they possibly expect people to sleep?”
“I don’t think they expect you to sleep,” I say quietly. The man chuckles beside me and rolls onto his side facing me. He inches toward the middle of the bed, and I instinctively scoot backward, away from him.
“If you move over any more, you’ll fall off the bed,” he warns, reaching out an arm and drawing me back into the middle of the bed with him.
I freeze as we come nose to nose; his eyes are crinkled with humor and are hiding behind the most annoyingly long dark eyelashes I’ve ever seen.
“Do you snore?” the man asks, settling his arm more comfortably around my waist and closing his eyes.
“Yes,” I find myself lying as I control the urge to snuggle closer to the man’s chest.
Closing my eyes, it doesn’t take long for me to be lulled to sleep by the warmth and security of this man’s presence.
The night air is cool on my face. I shiver as we walk down the cobblestone sidewalks, my heels clicking with every step. There are others with me, people I know, my friends from high school. But I can’t see their faces in the darkness. Low lit street lamps light the way as we continue to walk further into the darkness. There’s a balloon of excitement inside of me that grows bigger with each step. I can hear my laughter ringing in the air.
Suddenly the pulsing lights of the club are surrounding me, filling me with unnatural energy. There is movement everywhere. And the sound of music reverberates in my chest. I feel euphoric as my senses are overwhelmed, and all I can do is give into the sensations. Falling into a rhythm, I move along with the other bodies as we become one writhing organism.
A sudden silence and a blast of cold air hits me. I’m outside again. A concrete wall a mass in front of me. Turning to the left, I start walking toward the lights of the street. I was told to come this way. Why, I am unsure.
A hand grabs me from behind and covers my mouth, while another arm bands across my chest, holding me prisoner. I twist, thrash, and struggle to break free.
“No!” I can hear my own muffled cry, and I continue to kick and twist my body as hard as I can.
“Lily, stop.” I hear the man’s voice from far off in the distance as my attacker continues to drag me back further into the darkness—away from the light.
“Wake up,” the man’s hard voice snaps angrily. My attacker freezes, and suddenly I’m opening my eyes.
My heart is racing, and I have an instinct to fight against his firm grasp. His hard, naked, body surrounds me and I can’t escape, pinned down onto the bed. He is covering me like a weighted blanket, while the bedding has fallen off from where we had been tucked in. Coming back to reality, I blink up into the shadows of the man’s concerned face—his dark eyebrows furrowed into a thick line.
“I’ve got you,” he says with a low growl.
I am safe from everyone save him. I grab onto his arms and melt into his warmth—clinging to the only solid thing I have felt for longer than I can remember, wedging myself under his body and further into his arms. This man is real, and he is here. Although the voice in my head whispers, For now.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I whisper, wrapping an arm around his narrow waist as a shiver runs through my body. “Just a nightmare.”
“Tell me what happened, Princess.” His low voice rumbles against me as he gently strokes my hair and holds me tightly.
“It was nothing,” I mutter.
“It didn’t seem like nothing to me,” he replies, pulling back only far enough to kiss my forehead before tucking me back safely into his arms. “Was it about the kidnapping?”
I nod my head against his chest, still shaking as the remnants of the dream slowly dissipate. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to cleanse myself from the feelings, the memories. All I want to do is forget what happened, to live in the present. Enjoy this man for as long as possible.
Chapter Fourteen
~ Finn ~
Pulling my body slightly back away from Lily, I lean over her and run my hand slowly through her re-tangled mass of hair while I formulate my plan. I need her to tell me what happened, and I now have a tactical advantage—her defenses are down. Lily trusts me, and I need to capitalize on that while I have the chance.
“What were you doing when they grabbed you?” I ask, gentling my voice but keeping it firm. I will have my answers.
“We were at a club in Paris, and I went out a side door,” she says slowly, her breath stuttering slightly while her gaze is fixed unseeingly on my chest. I run my hand along her back. Her body loosens as she relaxes. “She told me to meet her there.”
“Who’s she?”
“Janice. A friend from school.”
“She told you to go out that door?” I ask, wanting to confirm the details. Even the smallest bit of information could help in discovering what really happened to Lily the night the kidnappers took her and will be useful in piecing together the events that led her here to this fucking nightmare.
“Yes.”
“Where were you?”
“Some club, I don’t remember which one, She wanted to go there,” Lily says, before surprising me and starting to giggle softly. “They sprayed foam.”
“I didn’t realize that was still a thing,” I chuckle.
“It’s not,” she says, finally looking up at me with an amused expression.
“How’d you two become friends?” I move my hand up her back and massage her neck lightly, feeling the warm, soft skin beneath my fingers.
“We met at the library,” she answers, suppressing a moan as I gently work the knot at the base of her skull.
“Did you have classes together?”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise wondering whom this Janice really is, if that’s even her real name. It seems very suspicious that a new friend would suddenly appear in Lily’s life just in time to have her kidnapped.
“I hope she’s okay,” she whispers.
“I bet she is,” I mutter darkly.
Whoever masterminded the kidnapping knew to wait until the traditional two-week Easter holiday when they could ensure she was traveling abroad. This gave them ample time before anyone would raise the alarm at her disappearance.
Once Lily falls back to sleep, I’ll call my assistant Trevor again and give him the information I’ve been able to gather. This should help speed the investigation along. The sooner I discover who the fucker is, the sooner I can make them pay for what they’ve done to my Lily. They’ve traumatized her, and that won’t go unpunished.
“Close your eyes,” I tell her, pulling the covers up higher over our shoulders and tucking her in more tightly. “Go back to sleep.”
Gliding my hand along her back, I pull her in closer. Reaching her shoulders, I gently massage them, and it’s not long before I feel the tension release from her body as she quickly falls back asleep, snuggled against my chest—right where she belongs.
Instead of getting up to call Trevor right away, I simply watch Lily sleep. Why anyone would want to hurt this sweet, intelligent, gorgeous woman is unfathomable. I don’t care who they are; they will fucking pay for what they’ve put her through. I’m seriously considering wringing Peter’s neck and severing all ties with him after this. It may not be good business, but for once I don’t fucking care. He better have a good excuse for not rescuing Lily the moment he discovered she’d been taken. Although, there is no excuse he could give that could possibly be good enough.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly extract myself from the bed, careful not to disturb Lily. I make sure to pull the blankets up over her, so she doesn’t catch a chill in my absence. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I close my eyes and breathe in her sweet, clean scent. There’s something fucking intoxicating about my princess.
