Love You Always

by Lorin, Terra

  “You better pray that you do,” he tells me.

  I start to feel nauseous again, but not from panic attack, from fear that Marcus won’t be able to pay the ransom. I know my brother would do anything for me, but if he doesn’t have the money, what can he do? And then if they kill me, he’ll just have one more soul on his conscience to torment him, because he’ll blame himself.

  Are these kidnappers inhuman? If someone kidnapped their sister or brother, how would they feel?

  “Do you have siblings?” I ask him.

  He furrows his forehead and cocks up a brow. He’s probably wondering why I’m asking this.

  But he answers, “I do.” He could’ve ignored me, but since he didn’t, that’s hopeful. Maybe I can sway this guy to feel some compassion for me. Hell, it’s worth a try, what do I have to lose?

  “A brother or a sister?”

  “Why are you so nosy about my personal life?”

  “I’m just striking up conversation, that’s all. You seem nicer than your friend, so I just wanted to talk with you.”

  “I have both a brother and a sister,” he finally concedes.

  “Are they younger or older?”

  “My brother’s older and my sister’s younger.” He still looks at me curiously as if I’m up to something.

  “Are you close to them?”

  “Okay, enough.” I jump at his hostility. “You’re not here so we can chitchat,” he says gruffly.

  I lower my eyes and frown.

  I hear him sigh.

  “No, I’m not close to them,” he says softly, with a tone of regret. “I fucking hate my brother, and my sister is a screwed up bitch whore.”

  His tone of voice sure changed fast. I guess he won’t be empathizing with the scenario of a kidnapped sibling.

  I’m losing hope fast.

  My face must be showing my exasperation because he looks at me sympathetically.

  “It’ll be over soon,” he says, his voice once again soft and maybe even caring.

  But then again, ‘over soon’ may mean my offing.

  I wonder how many kidnappings ever turn out where the hostage is returned safely? I would feel more confident of my release if they were wearing masks. But I’m going to hope that they have plans to leave the country, and it’s the reason why they’re not bothering about being recognized.

  God, please make that the reason, otherwise I’m screwed.

  My eyes stare at the small bucket.

  “It’s not so bad. You just squat like you would do it in the woods.”

  “I’ve never used the bathroom in the woods,” I tell him.

  He looks at me incredulously. “Never?” His eyes scan me up and down. “You never went camping as a kid?”

  “Whenever we went camping, we stayed in a cabin. They had toilets.”

  “Rich kids. You don’t know what life is, you’re spoiled,” he says sarcastically.

  He’s right. I’ve had it easy all my life. I’ve never known what it’s like to struggle financially.

  “I admit, I haven’t had to work for money, but my life hasn’t been all that rosy. I lost my parents and my brother to a horrific accident. That hasn’t made my life easy, by no means.”

  “Yeah, I know about your parents and the accident,” he confesses.

  “How do you know about that?” I ask.

  He acts as if he’s said too much.

  “Forget about it. I just know.”

  “Please, if you know something, tell me,” I plead. “You’re going to kill me anyway, so what’s the harm?”

  The young kidnapper scrunches his brows.

  “Who said we’re going to kill you?” Is he torturing me? Giving me hope, only later to take it away?

  I don’t answer; instead, I shrug.

  Again, his brown eyes look at me with compassion, “Look, as I said before, if your brother comes through, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “That doesn’t give me any consolation,” I counter. “What if he can’t get the money? I’m fucked.”

  He laughs at me.

  “What? What’s so funny?” I ask with a biting tone. Right now, I’m more angry than frightened. Maybe my fright is causing my anger, because I don’t know how else to cope with it.

  “I wouldn’t figure you for a trashy mouth.”

  “Well, I don’t normally swear, but it’s probably true, right? Am I fucked?”

  “Do you want to be fucked?” He grins at me wickedly.

  My eyes stare at him with shock. Oh my God, I didn’t expect that from him. I didn’t mean it that way.

  I watch his eyes roam over me again, slowly, lustfully this time, as if he has evil on his mind. No, he won’t do anything—he’s just playing with me. If he were a bad person in that way, he would’ve done it already. Yes, he’s just playing with me. That’s all.

  But as I’m in the midst of convincing myself, his hand goes for my buttons. I push his hand away. He grins, but it’s not friendly, it’s a taunting grin. I back myself away from him, but all that causes is my legs to spread open as I scoot backwards, propelling myself on my butt with my hands and feet.

  His eyes move to my crotch. “You’ve got nice panties,” he says.

  I want to scream, but I know it won’t do any good, because the only person who will hear me will probably rape me too.

  My heart beats wildly, my eyes stare at him in shock, and before I can move again, he lurches forward, grabs one leg, then the other. I kick frantically to get loose, but he grips my ankles tightly, squeezing them so hard they hurt.

  Oh God, no, no, no, nooooo.

  As he pulls me to him, my arms give way and I’m on my back. My dress bunches up around my waist as he continues to pull me until I’m straddling him.

  He lets go of my legs and I flail my fists at him, but he grabs them and pins them down.

  I wriggle and struggle to get loose, but his weight keeps me pinned, he’s too strong, and I can’t fight him.

  Oh God, please, please, don’t let this happen.

  Tears well in my eyes, and I look up at him, my eyes plead with him to stop. I’m anticipating a panic attack but it’s not yet coming—what I’m feeling right now is just plain fear.

  How can this guy seem almost decent one minute and then evil the next?

  He stares back at me, smiling as if he’s going to teach me a lesson.

  My mouth is dry as my breath huffs out hard, fast, making my chest heave, my mind is in a whirl, I–I–I . . .

  “Please,” I whimper as the tears flow down the sides of my eyes.

  “Please what?” he asks. “Please, as in you want it?”

  I squirm again, but still, I can’t get loose.

  Oh God, oh God.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” I beg as my body goes limp. My struggles are useless, I can’t get away—I’m his to do what he wants.

  I close my eyes awaiting the inevitable, bracing myself for a most horrific violation, adding yet another nightmare to the tragedies of my life.

  But as my body trembles with the quakes of my fear, I suddenly feel his weight lift off me. My eyes shoot open and he’s standing over me, looking down at my body laying sprawled in my disheveled dress.

  I want to get up, but for some reason I can’t move—I’m shaking and petrified.

  “Next time, don’t ask so many fucking questions.” He turns to leave. “I’ll be back later with some food.”

  Just as he’s at the door, he turns back to face me.

  “Oh, and the bucket is only for pissing. When you want to take a dump, I’ll carry you to the cabin. Fuck if I’m going to clean up shit. And you better need to crap only once a day, cuz that’s all I’m gonna carry you.”

  He then disappears behind the door.

  My heart is still racing as the frightening ordeal lingers with me. Even if he didn’t rape me, he finds enjoyment in taunting me, torturing my psyche—he’s u
npredictable, and plays nasty games.

  This man is now the one who scares me.

  Chapter 16 - Laura

  ~* Laura *~

  Marcus and I hold each other, and I can sense so much pain in his heart. He’s feeling helpless to save his sister and it’s eating at his gut, tearing him apart. Losing Angela would be the straw that breaks him. Every man has a breaking point and losing his only sibling—the most important person in the world to him—is probably his. He wouldn’t be able to handle that guilt, not after the death of his parents, and his brother. That ordeal had already plunged a stake into his heart—losing his sister would just set a fire to that stake.

  My heart goes out to him on more than one level. Seeing him so vulnerable this way sets my emotions on high and I feel love for him. I know I’m not ‘in love’ with him yet, but there’s definitely love in my heart. In any case, it’s an emotion I’m feeling that’s strong enough I can call it that.

  Marcus’ arms embrace me around my chest, while my arms encircle his neck, holding his head into the curve of my neck as I stroke his hair.

  His breath winds down to a normal rhythm now as his anger from the kidnapper’s call subsides. What I can sense he’s feeling is helplessness. He’s a strong man, inside and out, and being unable to rescue his sister, and the possibility of the kidnappers killing her even after the ransom is paid, holds him captive—he’s a hostage—as much as Angela is.

  His arms squeeze me and he inhales my scent. I know this isn’t the time to be having urges, but the way he just did that, inhale me, brought a rush of desire to my loins.

  He’s moving his head, and . . . oh my God, his lips . . . on my neck . . . kissing there.

  I take in a deep breath as my hands caress his head while his lips touch me, caress me, moving up, to my chin, my cheeks . . . and . . . his lips, they’re now on mine, and he’s tender, gentle, but then his kiss turns to passion, and . . . oh my God, should we be doing this? Is this appropriate at a time like this?

  He pushes me to the floor and his lips devour me. I’m torn between just going with it or stopping him to bring him back to his senses. But maybe he needs this, needs to release his tension through sex. Yes, I’ve heard men do that, need that, maybe that’s what he needs right now.

  But what about me? Can I let him make love to me, knowing that what he’s doing, what he’s feeling, may just be a temporary lapse of need and nothing else?

  God, stop thinking so much, go with it, yes, I want this—I need it too.

  My fingers scrunch his hair as his lips continue to engulf mine. This kiss is as delicious as it was in the lake. His kisses suck me in, into him, the thrill of him, setting my loins afire and sending tingles from my head to my toes.

  A hand fondles my breast and my breath catches.

  Then all of a sudden, he stops, and his eyes look deeply into mine.

  He gets off me, leans his back on the edge of the bed, and runs his fingers through his hair. He turns to look at me as I rise from the floor, sitting beside him.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he says with eyes so sorrowful, it makes me want to cry.

  “Please, don’t be. It’s a natural thing. You’re in a state of vulnerability; you’re undergoing a lot of stress and anxiety. It’s a man’s natural instinct to want to relieve them with sex.”

  He stares at me as if I’ve said something profound.

  “You sure you’re not majoring in psychology?” He smiles.

  “Nope. Just do a lot of reading,” I answer.

  “Well, you’re right, I’m afraid. Sex does help.” He crinkles his forehead with puppy dog eyes and smiles at me apologetically.

  In a soft voice, I say, “I won’t mind.”

  His eyes peer into mine, wondering if he heard me right.

  “I also heard that sex brings clarity in decision making. Probably has something to do with the blood flow,” I say, grinning obscenely.

  What the hell is coming over me?

  But he takes it in the way that I hoped, and he grins back.

  “I have a confession to make,” he tells me.

  My ears perk, my brow cocks.

  “We won’t be having sex,” he says, then pauses. His eyes search mine to read my reaction.

  I continue to stare at him, wondering if I’ve made a fool of myself. My face warms with my blush.

  “I will make love to you,” he says with a straight face.

  Oh my God. How should I take this? Is he saying he loves me? He’s probably not ‘in love’ with me, but more like the same way I feel about him.

  We do have strong chemistry together. I feel it, and I know he feels it too by the way he looks at me, kisses me. Nobody can kiss someone like that and not have some emotion attached to it.

  God, my head is racing with thoughts. Calm down, Laura, you’ve made love before; it’s not your first time. Okay, I’ve already committed myself to this, so there’s no turning back now.

  “You having second thoughts?” he asks, scanning my face, observing my expression.

  I shake my head.

  With that, his strong arms scoop me up and he places me on the bed.

  I sit up on one hip with my knees slightly bent and my legs lounging out below me, while one arm braces the weight of my lean.

  Marcus walks over to the nightstand and takes off his watch. With his eyes focusing on mine, he grabs the hem of his undershirt and pulls it over his head. His taut muscles beckon me to touch them, but I stay where I am, not making a move while I watch him strip.

  He undoes his shorts and boxer briefs, then stands naked in front of me, his cock hanging in mid-erection.

  He is definitely a fine specimen of a man, and oh, how his muscular physique brings pangs of desire to my groin.

  The weight of him causes the bed to shift as he sits down in front of me—his eyes intensely fixate on mine.

  I swoon in his presence for his male magnetism leaves me intoxicated. I sit upright and swivel my body so my back is to him. I sweep my long hair to the front of my shoulder. I don’t say a word, but he knows what to do. His fingers pull down the zipper on my dress, slowly, teasingly, until he reaches the small of my back. I’m not wearing a bra with this sundress so my back is fully bare.

  His hands now caress my shoulders as they slide the straps of my dress down my arms until they lay at my elbows.

  I turn back to face him and I watch his eyes take in my breasts. He looks at them so longingly, that more pangs enflame my groin.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says in a soft, yet husky voice. His dreamy eyes set their gaze now back on mine. I melt as if I’m an ice cube under blazing sunlight as his eyes peer into mine, holding me captive, making me crave for them to devour every inch of me until I’m swirling in a pool of ecstasy.

  He gently pushes me down to the bed and pulls my dress down over my hips, to my thighs, then down to my ankles until he releases me from it.

  He unstraps my sandals and removes them from my feet. His eyes scan the length of me, slowly, seductively, from my breasts down to my feet, but not stopping there as his gaze longingly travels back up again, settling on my lace panties.

  Oh God, I can’t keep from squirming, the agitation in my crotch is beyond my control. I am so horny for him, I just about want to grab him, press his body to mine, and have him fuck my brains out already.

  I close my eyes as I feel his fingers touch my skin as he grasps the elastic band of my panties. He’s ready to remove them, and oh God, he’s going to see that I’m already soaking wet.

  I suck in my breath as I feel my silky lingerie slide down my hips, my thighs, my calves, to my feet, until I feel them no more.

  My body shivers and I feel so vulnerable lying completely naked in front of this gorgeous man. I open my eyes to see him staring into mine. He smiles so sweetly that my heart skips a beat.

  “You’re absolutely lovely, Laura,” he says in his sexy
voice, the voice that makes my loins ache with overwhelming desire. Looking at him doesn’t help any, because he’s the complete package of sexual and romantic delights. Can any man be as perfect? Even his scars can’t mar my adoration of his sexiness.

  And I’m not feeling this way just because I haven’t had any for a while—this man is simply star quality.

  “You’re pretty ready for me,” he says as he places a finger lightly on my wetness.

  That just about makes me want to push that finger deep inside me, but I let him lead this seduction, so his fingers gently rub the lips of my vulva, and oh dear Lord, if he continues to do that, I’m going to come.

  My hips writhe and a soft moan escapes my lips—I’m delirious with the pleasure he’s invoking.

  “I’m going to come if you continue much longer,” I warn him, and I feel his fingers pause, but instead of pulling back, he glides them down my inner thighs, then with some force, he spreads them further apart, and another moan leaves my lips as his fingers once again touch me on the moist entrance of my pussy.

  “You’re so wet and ready,” he whispers in my ear as he pushes a finger into me. Oh God, I just about squirt my juices as he moves in and out, making me go crazy.

  I squirm, and moan, and I want to squeeze my thighs together so I’m no longer tortured with such teasing pleasure.

  “I’m going to give you what you’re waiting for this time, because I need it so badly too right now, but next time, I’m taking my time with you.”

  Next time? He’s already making plans to make love to me again? Oh my God, my mind reels with the sexual excitement my body is experiencing, and I turn my head, biting down on my lip.

  He stops and reaches into his nightstand to take out a condom. While he readies himself, I touch his back and trace his scars with my fingertips. He turns his head to look at me.

  “Not too pretty, are they?” he says.

  “They’re not so bad,” I reply as I continue to touch them. “They’re a part of you, so they don’t bother me. They’re a reminder of the hero you are.”

  He smiles at me, appreciative of my acceptance of his marred body, but his smile disappears fairly quickly.

  “I’m no hero,” he says, his tone somber.