“Paxton, wait. Stop,” I said, halting our progress as the front door swung open.
“What is it Wendy Darling? We don’t have much time.”
“Kiss me,” I pleaded.
“We have to go. Preston will be here any minute!”
“I know, and there’s no point running. You can’t come with me, and I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t. Please. Just kiss me.”
Dropping the blanket and his hand, I opened my arms for him. He was hesitant, his eyes looking out the front door, torn on what was right and what was easy. Shutting the door with a beat of finality, Paxton crashed into my arms, picking me up around the waist and throwing me into the nearby wall.
“I love you, Wendy Darling. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. Don’t fight Preston. Let him sell you, and be useful to your Master. You’re so strong, and you’re so brave. You’re the perfect slave, as I knew you would be.”
“I will, Paxton. I promise. I love you so much. Now kiss me.”
His lips came forward, inches from mine before he stopped, his eyes turning black.
“I love you, Paxton, kiss me,” Preston mocked.
“NO!” I raged, beating my fists against his chest. “Give him back. I need my kiss! Paxton, come back!”
Grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head, he used his other hand to smack the words out of my mouth.
“I gave you ten minutes. With the state of your pussy, he only needed three. You wasted them. Not my fucking problem, slave,” his nonchalant attitude spiking the crazy bubbling to the surface.
“Paxton!” I yelled again, incapable of saying anything else as I thrashed in Preston’s arms.
“Stop!” he roared, but I ignored him, fueled by rage and insanity.
“Paxton! You didn’t kiss me. I need my kiss,” I screamed, lurching forward.
My mind was in shambles, and the next thing I knew his lips were on mine, as we both tumbled to the ground, my head smacking the wood floor, his body resting on top of mine.
“Thank you, Paxton, for kissing me. Thank you. I needed your kiss,” I murmured against his lips, biting, and sucking them into my mouth.
“I’m not Paxton, slave,” I vaguely heard, but I was too drunk off of his kiss. Too happy to let anything in.
“I love you, Paxton. Never stop kissing me.”
The front door opened, but I couldn't be bothered. Paxton was kissing me, and I was living in my moment.
“What the hell?” I heard a familiar voice.
“She thinks I’m Paxton. She’s off her fucking rocker, Uncle. I believe she hit her head.”
“Paxton, you stopped kissing me,” I pouted, giving him the best pair of puppy dog eyes I could muster.
He looked down at me, anger evident, but I didn’t see it. All I saw was his love.
“Paxton, when did your eyes turn black. Aren’t they blue?” I asked, putting my hands on his cheeks, giggling like a schoolgirl. “I love you, Paxton.”
“There’s blood underneath her head Preston.”
“That’s not blood, silly foster-daddy Billy. That’s my love flowing out for your nephew, Paxton. He loves me too! Kiss me again, Paxton.” I puckered my lips.
“We’re never going to be able to sell her now.”
“What do we do now Bill? She’s my number twelve.”
“Paxton! Kiss me please!!!” I begged.
“For God’s sake Preston. Kiss the girl and shut her up. Let me think.”
Paxton’s lips found mine again, the butterflies in my stomach churning to life. I only wished they would stop talking about that horrible, evil man Preston.
“We have to find you a new number twelve and fast. Your deadline is almost up.”
“And the girl?” Paxton asked, nodding his head at me.
“Get rid of her.”
Chapter 13- Epilogue
I wake up cold, alone, and naked, a migraine rips through my head, tiny needles scratching at my skin, and the sun beating down on my body. I don’t want to open my eyes for fear of what I will find, so I let my memory fill in the details. Everything is foggy, almost like a dream. I relive every detail from the moment I left Bill’s house, until the moment Paxton kicked me out of his truck.
Paxton picked me up and carried me outside, placing me in his truck. All I remember thinking was I needed more kisses. Bill came to the window, but he didn’t frighten me anymore. I had Paxton to protect me.
“Take her somewhere no one will find her, and leave her. It’s better if you don’t kill her, too much DNA. She’s too fucked up in the head to be of any good, even if someone does save her.”
“I will, Uncle. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll have a new slave waiting for you when you return.”
Paxton turned to me, his eyes going to the gear shift.
“Are we going on vacation Paxton?” I asked.
“No. You’re going away,” he told me, his voice hard, his tone gravelly.
“But you’re coming with me, aren’t you?” I asked, tears pricking my eyes.
“No.”
“But we love each other Paxton. How can you walk away from this love?” I begged, grabbing his forearm.
“I’m not fucking Paxton!” He yelled back at me, flinging my hand off of his arm.
I sat in the truck quietly as he drove, wondering why he kept saying he wasn’t Paxton. Surely, I knew the man I loved, and this was one and the same.
“I’m sorry, Paxton,” I whispered, after a hundred miles of uncomfortable silence.
“You don’t fucking get it, do you. I’m not — oh fucking never mind. You’re fucking insane.”
His words hurt. I wasn’t, and I have never been crazy. Only crazy in love.
Two days and miles of open freeway later, Paxton pulled off the road, his truck inches from a deep ditch.
Turning to me, he took my chin in his hands.
Thank God. He was finally going to kiss me.
“Go down in the ditch and wait for me. Don’t talk to anyone, and don’t let anyone touch you. I will come back to you.”
“Why?” I asked his lips, inches from mine.
“Because I fucking sa—” he stopped, composing himself before he continued. “Because, Wendy Darling, I have to get away from Preston and Bill, and then I’ll come get you, and we can live happily ever after.”
“Yay. I think that’s a good plan, Paxton!” I shrieked, throwing myself into his arms.
His sigh was one of annoyance, and I cringed. I didn’t want to make Paxton mad.
“I’m sorry,” I bit into my lower lip.
“You really think I’m Paxton, don’t you slave?” He asked me.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, confused.
“Never mind. Now tell me your assignment.”
“Go down in the ditch. Don’t talk to anyone. Wait for you,” I recited from memory.
“Good, now go,” he leaned over me, opening the door.
“Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?” I asked him.
“No,” he barked, laughing as he kicked me out and sped away.
Three days later, and there has been no sign of Paxton. The fact I was still not wearing any clothes should have frightened me. The vulnerability most ordinary people have when naked and exposed to the world is an emotion I’m not accustomed to any longer. Preston made sure of that, just as he made sure I was properly trained, properly mannered, and properly subservient to only him. You would think forty-five degrees without a scrap of material to cover my raw flesh would cripple me. You would believe that, but you would be wrong.
As every car passed me by in those three days, I did what I’ve done for the past sixteen months, two weeks, three days, and four hours. I count. I count the number of cars, the number of trucks, the number of vans. I count the red ones, the green ones, the black ones, and the silver ones. I notice every passenger. The brunettes, the blondes, the red heads, and the balding. (Especially the balding) I count them all. Just
as Preston taught me. If I fail, Preston will punish me. If I fail, Paxton will never be free, and although Paxton has driven away, and I don’t know if I will ever see him again, I know without a doubt I must follow their rules.
I open my eyes and let another day without Paxton, Preston or food and water crash over me. If Paxton doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to die. I’m not ready to die, not now that Paxton has saved me and is going to run away with me. A tickling nags the back of my brain, my memory attempting to dislodge a hidden memory, but I swat it away. Now is not the time to think of the past. Instead, it is the time to create new memories with Paxton by my side.
I crawl to the edge of the ditch, just out of eyeshot of passing cars, something across the road catches my attention. A mirror, reflecting the harsh sun. It’s held by a man. I cup my hand over my face and squint my eyes.
Paxton!
Without regard to my state of dress, I make it to my feet, tiny thorns and sticks poking me, but I don’t fucking care. He has finally come for me.
My love.
My Paxton.
I climb out of the ditch and ignore the stares and honks. My eyes are trained solely on the man on the opposite side of the four-lane highway. He isn’t moving, but I don’t mind going the entire distance. I can feel my feet being eaten by the gravel as I run, blood dripping onto the ground, my arms out in front of me.
I have to get to him.
The concrete barrier poses no threat in my quest to make it to him. I lift one leg up and over, my pussy throbbing as soon as contact is made with the unyielding cement.
I’m wet for him.
My other leg makes it over, and now only two lanes separate me from the man who will make all of my dreams come true.
I love him.
I look up, only to find him gone. I pause. I stop moving.
Where did he go?
I hear the blaring of the horn, the screeching of the brakes, the smell of rubber. The horn sounds again, bringing back painful memories from my childhood of making the universal sign for ‘honk your horn’ when passing big rigs. I close my eyes, hoping to see him when I open them.
Existing only for him.
I open my eyes, but he isn’t there.
“Paxton,” I cry.
My voice is swallowed by crunching metal.
My heart breaks in two.
“Paxton.”
My feet leave the ground, as I’m thrown in the air.
“Paxton.”
My head hits the pavement, the memories flooding back in.
I close my eyes. The sirens are blaring in my ears.
I’m dying.
Fifty voices hover over me, caging me in.
No one’s touching me, everyone’s touching me.
Paxton isn’t real.
But I see him there.
Just behind my eyelids.
He’s waiting for me.
Calling to me.
I’m running towards him.
My heart stops.
He disappears.
Preston laughs.
But, It’s just me.
I’m.
Trapped.
The End
To The Readers :
I don’t even know how to express my love and gratitude to each and every one of you who made it this far. Trapped: Her Love Story, was not for the feint of heart or someone with a weak stomach, and you did it! You made it! I truly hope you enjoyed the story of Preston, Paxton and Wendy Darling (and in case you were wondering, no, she never did have a name---she wasn’t supposed to have one).
If you enjoyed my tale, please take a moment to leave an Amazon review. Reviews are the big reason that authors like me pass or fail in the world of Indie publishing. If you hated Trapped, I’d also encourage you to leave a review. They truly do help so much more than you realize. Good or bad, I offer to you my sincerest thanks for taking the time out of your life to read the insanity that lies in my brain.
If you really loved Trapped, I highly encourage taking a look at my other works. Although slightly different, each book I write has characters with a broken past and a broken present. They all have one end goal in mind. Happily Ever After, but as I have been quoted as saying multiple times, Life isn’t always Happily Ever After. That doesn’t mean that all of my works end in destruction, only that you’ll never know until you finish the story.
I love hearing from readers of my books, so please feel free to reach out to me anytime! All of my links can be found in the “About Me” section at the end of this book. If you would like to send me an email, I always personally respond- [email protected] I’d love to hear from you.
Thank you again, so much, from the bottom of my heart. You all mean the world to me.
Smooches & Face Licks,
Shannon Youngblood
Check out Shannon’s Other Books!
Just a Man (The Porter Trilogy Book 1)
http://amzn.to/2cwTcZY
Just a Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2)
http://amzn.to/2db42AN
Chub Rub
http://amzn.to/2fgJxXX
Holiday Heartwarmers: An Anthology of Short Stories
http://amzn.com/B01N08QN99
Influenced (Co-write with the amazing Janae Keyes)
COMING APRIL 2017!!
About the Author :
Shannon Youngblood is a thirty-something self-proclaimed foul mouthed erotic suspense author, who specializes in deeply gratifying, nail biting, bdsm and other taboo subjects. Although she would love to classify herself as a “romance” author, and her books do focus HEAVILY and PREDOMINANTLY on the love story at hand, most of her books seem to end in destruction. But don’t despair, readers! Shannon does provide a plethora of HEA books for you to read if nitty-gritty isn’t your cup of tea.
She lives in the suburbs of Detroit, Michigan with her cranky, yet super passionate, husband Vaughn, and her two ham-hock dachshunds- Emma and Jasper. She has a desk job during the week and is on two bowling leagues. If she isn’t writing, blogging, reading, bowling, working, providing PR services to other authors, or making covers on a budget, you can find her snuggled in bed with her CPAP machine of life. She loves chocolate, peanut butter, and carbs (although she’s really trying to quit them).
Although Shannon isn’t 100% sure what subgenre of the romance world she plans on taking over and Dominating in the coming years, she knows that without her friends, family, and more importantly, her readers, she couldn’t do it without them! She loves everyone fiercely and protects everyone she loves.
Wanna talk to Shannon? Check her out in the avenues below! She loves interacting with readers, fans, and generally otherwise chill-ass people! Assholes need not apply ;)
Want to follow Shannon?
FB Page- facebook.com/sgyoungblood
We Write Wicked Words FB Group- https://www.facebook.com/groups/1825427114397836/
Street Team- https://www.facebook.com/groups/180082785733391/
Blog Facebook Page- facebook.com/b1tchesnbooks
Premade Cover Group- https://www.facebook.com/groups/coverbudgetlove/
Twitter- twitter.com/sgyoungblood
Instagram- Instagram.com/sgyoungblood
Website- http://authorshannonyoungblood.blogspot.com/
Amazon- http://amzn.to/2dc9gjq
Goodreads- http://bit.ly/2dutXri
I want to say thanks :
First and Foremost, as always, I’d like to say thank you to my amazing and wonderful husband Vaughn. You are my backbone and support in this crazy journey, and I love you so much more than you can even realize. You may call me sick and twisted in the head, but I know, without a shadow of a doubt, you wouldn’t want me any other way. You have shown me more love and guidance through this, than anyone else, and I feel like I can never repay you for how perfect you are for me. I love you so much Vaughn. So fucking much.
To my family-- Holly, Sapo, Berlin, Kenny, Lauren, Cameron, Carson, Linda, Sharlia, Larry, Jennifer, Gary, Shar
i, Lacy, and my Grandpa Ken and Grandma Pauline watching down on me. I love all of you so much. Thank you for being there for me, supporting me and loving me. I wouldn’t and couldn’t get through life without you all by my side through every step of it. My heart is full with you all in it.
To my online friends-- Janae, Kris, Alisha, Annie, Jen, Audrey, Leanna, Lily, Eden, My WWWW girls-- Brooke, Cordelia, Muffy, Jane, Virginia, Taylor, Lainie-- all of my Sinful Sub’s, and all of my fans--- You guys fucking rock my socks! I love you to death and I can’t thank you enough for the outpouring of love from you! You’re the best subs ever!!!
Bethany-- as always, you are the sunshine of my life, and even though we met in---odd---circumstances, you’re the best thing to come out of that relationship. I love you like a sister, like a Mistress, and an amazing friend. I literally couldn’t have done most of what I do without you----you and your pushiness. Love you chick…. The world isn’t prepared for The American Slut.
Nicole-- Bitch--- I dedicated this whole book to you---you don’t get an acknowledgement page too, lmao JK…. Love you bitch <3
Tasha---I don’t have words to tell you how much you mean to me. You’ve pushed me to do better, to be better, and to keep writing when I felt like giving up. You go above and beyond the call of duty. I love you so much girl, and if we don’t meet soon, I’m gonna freak out… IJS.
Melissa-- As always, you’re my #1 favorite bitch in the entire world. I love you, I love our blog, I love our PR, I love our friendship, but most of all, I LOVE YOUR LEGGINGS! LOLOLOL, JK… well not really. But for realz, I flove you B…. Best Bitches 4Eva!
To my BETA readers who stuck it out (and to the one who couldn’t-- i still love you more than carbs)-- You all are something else entirely. You made Trapped what it is. You’re LITERALLY the reason I kept writing even though my nerves told me I should stop. I’ll never be able to repay you all for your honesty.
To anyone I’ve forgotten-- Thank you. From the bottom of my royally fucked up heart, and twisted mind. Thank you. I love each and every one of you.
Smooches, and Face Licks,
Trapped: Her Love Story Page 19
