The Pleasure Series: Complete Box Set

by Parker, M. S.

  “Thank you.” He pressed his lips against the side of my head. “That was amazing.”

  I was too weak to do anything but nod. I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to move any time soon. My limbs all felt like jello.

  I heard a beeping sound as my phone sounded the alarm. “Happy New Year.”

  “Happy New Year, love.”

  Everything became fuzzy after that. At some point, Rylan stood and shifted me into his arms. I had a vague recollection of us taking a shower, though I suspected he spent more time washing me than I did washing myself. He dressed me for bed, not using the pajamas I'd brought with me, but one of his own shirts. When he put me under the covers and then climbed in behind me, I wanted to tell him that this was the perfect way to end one year and begin another.

  Instead, I found myself slipping under. I'd have to tell him tomorrow. At least we'd have all day tomorrow, maybe more if the snow didn't let up. That wouldn't be so bad. My last thoughts were of being stranded in this beautiful cabin for a long, long time...

  Chapter 16

  My heart was pounding, blood rushing in my ears.

  I'd known it was pointless to run. There was never anywhere to hide, not for real anyway. But that's what the customer wanted and the customer always got what he wanted. And this particular customer liked the chase.

  It always started the same way. He would come to see my mother and tell her to find a house. Whenever my mother told me we were going for a ride over the weekend or during a school vacation, I knew what was coming. The only other time I'd left the house was to go to the doctor.

  I'd tried everything to stop it. I'd refused to get in the car once. Mom had slapped me so hard that I'd almost blacked out.

  I'd tried to escape from the car three times. All that had gotten me was the shit beaten out of me after he'd finished with me.

  Part of what made him so bad was that he relished the terror and the fear that came with the chase. He didn't only want me struggling and afraid when he fucked me. He wanted the build up. One of the reasons my mom liked him so much was that he paid for an entire day because he wanted to draw things out.

  He was the huntsman, chasing Snow White through the forest. And he would hunt me down, tell me that he was supposed to take my heart back to the queen and if I wanted to live, I would have to do whatever he said. Or he would go with his other fantasy where he didn't give me a choice. Either way, things ended the same.

  Once, I'd stood in the center of the run-down crackhouse my mom had chosen for the site of the man's fantasy. When he'd seen that I refused to run, he'd hit me and I still only had partial memories of what he'd done after that, but they were enough that I never did it again.

  So, I played the game.

  My mom pointed to the door of a shitty little house and pulled out a cigarette. I didn't need any other instructions. I walked up the dirt path to the front door of the condemned building and went inside. I would have five minutes before he'd come after me. If I was lucky, he wouldn't have his dog with him. It always took him longer to find me without the dog, which meant less time spent fucking me. If he found me too quickly and was up for it, he'd have me run again.

  The walls and floor were filthy, caked with dirt and bugs. I didn't care about any of those things though. I had to find somewhere to hide. Maybe, just maybe, if I was good enough, I could hide until he gave up. I knew it would never happen, but that hope was still there.

  The main room was empty so I ran through the closest doorway into a kitchen. There was a table, but he'd see me too easily. I opened a door and found a broom closet filled with cleaning supplies, but nothing big enough to hide me.

  I ran up the stairs, each one creaking ominously under my feet. My heart was racing as I heard the front door open. He never shouted for me or yelled for me to come out. The only time he ever spoke to me was when he caught me and he gave me the couple sentences that told me how things would go. He barely made any sounds even when he fucked me. No moans or talking to me. In a way, he frightened me more than most of the others. One day, I was terrified that he'd go too far into the fantasy and cut out my heart.

  The rooms upstairs had beds and dressers, closets that were empty. There was no shower curtain in the bathroom. I was running out of options and out of time.

  Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes. I could hear my ragged breathing echoing in the empty hallway.

  What was I going to do? Where could I hide? If he found me standing here, he'd hurt me worse than usual.

  Under a bed. That seemed to be my only option. But it was too easy. He'd look under the beds.

  My brain was spinning in circles and I felt the panic getting ready to choke me. I pushed it down and begged myself to think of something.

  I heard the creak of one of the steps and nearly screamed. I swallowed the sound and ran into the last bedroom. He'd start at the first room and maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to sneak back down the stairs while he was in there. Not that I thought I'd find a better place to hide downstairs.

  Then again...a thought came into my head. It was crazy and would probably kill me. I traced the scar on my arm from where I'd tried to kill myself two years ago. Since then, I'd endured things that were almost as bad as what had happened that night, but I'd never tried suicide again. I'd given up on finding any kind of release, even in death. This idea, however, might just work. Either I'd be hidden or I'd be dead.

  I pressed myself against the wall, my entire body trembling. I bit my bottom lip to hold in any sound I might accidentally make. I had to be absolutely silent so he didn't waver from his routine of going into that first room. His footsteps were barely audible, but I could hear enough to know when he'd moved into the room.

  This was it. I had to move now and move fast if my plan would work, but my legs wouldn't move. They were frozen in place, telling me that I had to stay, that what I was thinking was crazy. Two sides of self-preservation were warring with each other, arguing as to what the worse fate would truly be.

  It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like forever, like I would still be standing here, unable to move, when he found me. The thought of what was coming was enough to break through the fear and I ran. I moved as quickly and quietly as I could, knowing that if he heard me too soon, he could dart out of the room and grab me as I ran by. Since we'd only been playing his game for a short time, he'd hurt me, then make me play again.

  I ran back down the stairs and heard him coming by the time I reached the bottom step. I didn't look behind me though. I knew he'd be coming, walking in that slow, horror-movie-villain way he did. I didn't watch scary movies much, but there were a couple clients who'd enjoyed watching me get scared by them, so I'd seen enough to know that's what my life was.

  I rounded the corner slower than I'd been going, my arms and legs feeling as if I was moving through water. It was then that I realized I was dreaming. This wasn't real. But it had been. This wasn't a mix of memories. This was exactly what had happened.

  My fingers closed around the door handle and I pulled. I told myself not to do it. That it wouldn't work. I couldn't stop myself though because I hadn't stopped then. I'd thought that it couldn't be worse than what he would do to me.

  I'd been wrong.

  It was cold and dark.

  I began to gasp as the air thinned.

  My chest hurt.

  I couldn't breathe.

  It was so dark.

  I tried to scream, but I couldn't get the air I needed to do it.

  I was going to die here. Alone. In the dark. Fighting to breathe.

  Cold.

  Alone...

  “Jenna, wake up.”

  I knew that voice. It wasn't him, it was someone else.

  “Come back to me, love.”

  Love.

  I wasn't alone.

  This was a dream.

  Wake up. Wake up!

  I sucked in air as my eyes opened and delivered me from the nightmare that felt as real as it had b
een years ago.

  “It's okay,” a deep voice murmured. “I've got you. It was just a nightmare.”

  Rylan.

  I let myself sag against his embrace and he pulled me onto his lap, cradling me against his chest. In the past, I may have been embarrassed at appearing so weak, but not with him.

  “You're shaking,” he said softly as he reached down and pulled the blankets up around us both, cocooning me in the warmth of cloth and his arms.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to open my mouth. I was pretty sure my teeth would be chattering. I didn't close my eyes, but not because of Rylan. I was afraid I'd find myself there again. Instead, I focused on the dim outline of Rylan's face above me, on the steady rhythm of his heart, the heat from his body and the strength all around me.

  As I slowly began to relax, our positions shifted until we were stretched out again, lying on our sides. My back was against his chest, his arms firmly around me.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “You don't have to, but if it will help...”

  I wasn't sure if talking would help, exactly, but it wouldn't hurt either.

  “From the time I was nine until I was eleven, there was this man who used to buy an entire day every few months. He'd have my mom find abandoned houses and warehouses, give me a head start and then hunt me.”

  I felt Rylan's body tighten and knew he was refraining from saying exactly what he thought of that man.

  I continued, “He had this whole twisted fantasy scenario, but that doesn't matter. The nightmare was about one of the times he hunted me when I was ten.” I shivered and Rylan curled his body more snuggly around me. “He never wanted it to be easy. He liked the fear that came with never knowing when I'd be caught. That day, I couldn't find anywhere to hide. It wasn't a very big house and I knew he'd find me quickly and it was always worse when he did. I knew he was going to catch me too fast and that's when I thought of a place to hide where, if he never found me, it might not have been a bad thing.”

  I paused for a moment, taking a slow breath. I could still taste the terror in the back of my throat.

  “You're safe now.” Rylan kissed my temple.

  “In the kitchen,” I said. “There was an old refrigerator. I was a smart kid. I knew that it was airtight and I knew what it would mean if he didn't think to look in it. Part of me almost hoped he wouldn't.”

  I still felt the desperation I'd been feeling when I'd opened the door and climbed inside. That voice inside me that whispered it might not be so bad to fall asleep and not wake up.

  “I'm not really sure what happened. Only that I was in there for what felt like hours and I couldn't breathe. It was dark and cold and I was suffocating.”

  Rylan swore softly.

  “I don't remember the door opening. I assume I was unconscious. The next thing I remember is pain.” My voice caught. “He had the handle of his knife...”

  “Mother fucking bastard!” Rylan didn't raise his voice, but he didn't have to. The anger in those three words told me everything I needed to know.

  If he ever got near the huntsman or any of those other men, he'd kill them.

  “You woke me up before it got to that part of the nightmare,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “I wish I could do more.” His whisper was fierce. “I hate that I couldn't protect you.”

  “You didn't even know me then.” I rolled over to face him. “But it means a lot to me that you wish you could.”

  He was silent for a moment and then brushed some hair back from my face, letting his fingers linger on my cheek for a moment. “When I was a kid, I had a recurring nightmare. Nothing like that, of course, and it was from something stupid, but it scared the shit out of me. When I was like eight or nine, Zeke dared me to watch this horror movie.”

  Of course he had.

  “I must've woken up screaming three nights in a row before my mom got out of me what had happened,” he continued. “The next day, she grounded me from spending time with Zeke for a month and made me promise not to watch anything like that without talking to her first. But that night, she didn't lecture me or anything. She just wrapped her arms around me and told me to go back to sleep. When I told her that I was too scared to go back to sleep, she told me that if I found myself in that nightmare again, I should think about her and how she was holding me. I should remind myself that nothing bad could get me because she had me. She was my anchor.”

  I felt more than saw him smile.

  “She's far from a perfect mother, but no matter how angry I've gotten with her over the years, I always remember that night.” He hooked his finger under my chin and tilted my head back so I was looking at him. “Let me be your anchor, Jenna. If you find yourself in a dark place again, remember that I have you and I'm not going to let you go. You’ll never be alone like that again.”

  Tears pricked at my eyes and I nodded, knowing I couldn't begin to explain what that meant to me.

  He kissed my forehead. “Now, go back to sleep. We have a whole new year to look forward to and I intend to start it off with us having the best New Year's Day possible.” His voice softened. “I'll stay awake until you fall asleep. I'm not going anywhere.”

  I wrapped one arm around his waist and put my head on his shoulder. The fear was still there when I closed my eyes, but I reminded myself of his words. I didn't have to be afraid. I wasn't alone in the dark. Rylan was with me and he would keep me safe. Not in a damsel-in-distress kind of way, but the way an anchor keeps a ship from drifting out to sea. He was holding me and no matter what memories might try to resurface, he would be there to give me the strength to fight them off. I didn't have to do this alone.

  Clinging firmly to that thought, I let myself fall asleep again and, this time, the nightmares stayed away.

  Chapter 17

  The first thing I realized as I slowly made my way towards wakefulness was that I still had a faint ache in my muscles from my exertions on the ski slopes, but I was sure it'd work out with a bit of movement. All of this processed in a few seconds and then I was awake enough to understand the second thing I'd felt, the thing that had drawn me out of the dark. Someone was watching me.

  A finger brushed my cheek and I tensed, then remembered.

  Rylan.

  I smiled as I opened my eyes. His face was mere inches from mine, his expression strangely serious. His finger traced along my cheekbone and down to my lips.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I should be asking you that,” he said. “That was quite a nightmare.”

  I shrugged and pushed myself up into a seated position. I pulled Rylan's shirt more tightly around me, focusing on the soft cotton and the comforting scent of him. “I've had worse.”

  He sat up as well, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned into him. It was true, I'd had worse nightmares over the years, and that one had sometimes been one of them, going past the point where I'd woken last night, into the memories of what had followed. I'd hinted at it when I'd told Rylan about the nightmare, but the reality of it had been beyond what mere words could describe.

  “I hate when you have nightmares.” His hand moved up and down my arm. “I feel so helpless, knowing there's nothing I can do.”

  “You were there,” I said. “My anchor, remember?”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Always.”

  My stomach clenched at the word. I'd never let myself look to the future in anything but business, and even then, not very far ahead. Rylan was the first man I'd ever had a relationship with and every time he said something that indicated he saw a future for the two of us beyond a couple months, I felt something I'd always tried to avoid. Hope.

  “By the way, Happy New Year,” he said, completely unaware of what I was thinking. “Any thoughts on how we should spend it?” He grinned at me.

  Warmth flooded me, pushing away everything else. I smiled back, and dropped my hand. His thigh was firm and warm beneath my hand. “I have some ideas.” I slid my hand further u
p, feeling Rylan's body tense. He caught his breath as I moved, cupping his cock through his pants. His arms tightened around me as I slowly rubbed my hand over the hardening shaft.

  “Love,” he breathed. “If you keep doing that, I'm going to embarrass myself.”

  I shifted, giving me the opportunity to grip him more firmly. He moaned, then hissed as I turned my head to flick my tongue against his nipple.

  “I want you to come,” I said, looking up at him. “I want to feel you come from just my hand.”

  His eyes met mine, the heat in them making my heart flip. I kept our gazes locked as I stroked him, the fabric between our skin rough against my palm. I could only imagine what it felt like for him. Based on the sounds he made, he didn't dislike it.

  “Come for me.” I pressed my lips against his chest without looking away from him.

  I wasn't entirely sure why this was suddenly so important to me, only that I wanted to see him come apart. I wanted to feel his cock pulse in my hand, feel his pants wet with his cum. I wanted every bit of him focused on his pleasure alone.

  “Fuck!” His hips jerked and I knew he was close.

  “Let go.” My fingers tightened around him.

  He swore again, his eyes squeezing shut, hands fisting the sheets, as he came. I kept working him, coaxing every last drop out of him as I watched his face. He was one of those men who were usually described with words like gorgeous, or even pretty, but when he came, he was beautiful. His face showed everything he was feeling, all the love and the ecstasy. And I'd made him feel that. My chest tightened with the intensity of the emotions flooding through me.

  “Jenna, love.” His eyes opened and he smiled at me. The words were a bit breathless. “What was that all about?”

  I grinned at him as I gave his overly sensitive cock a gentle squeeze. He sucked in a breath. “You asked if I had any ideas about how to spend the first day of the new year.”

  He raised an eyebrow. His hand rested on my knee, then burned a path up my thigh and under the shirt I was wearing. I moaned as his fingers brushed against my pussy. He hadn't put any panties on me last night and, as I parted my legs, there was nothing between his hand and me.