by Vonna Harper
Instead of unfastening her bra as she thought he would, he worked his way up her arms. After briefly massaging the back of her neck, his hands were on her blindfold. Apathy washed out of her to be replaced by anticipation and, strangely, regret. Fantasy was about to end and reality intrude.
She’d been sweating behind the elasticized blindfold. Between that and getting accustomed to the sudden light, several seconds passed before she could make sense of her surroundings. They were in a living room that looked as if it had been professionally decorated. Several windows reached nearly to the ceiling. She was on a couch all right, new and rich looking. The nearby coffee table was a combination of smoky glass and chrome and, she had no doubt, was expensive. The rest of the furniture spoke of the same commitment to class and quality as did several pieces of original artwork. Other decorative touches consisted of handblown glass pieces and copper and chrome freeform objects, all masculine.
Beyond the living room was a dining area and, at angle to that, a kitchen capable of putting out an elaborate meal. Everything spoke quietly and in a dignified way of money. So much for her belief that everything off the grid was lucky to have electricity let alone luxury. If this was where Reeve lived—
Before she could finish the thought, her attention was drawn to her purse, which was on the coffee table. Knowing he’d taken possession of it the same as he had her knotted her stomach.
“You need to go to the bathroom,” he announced. “And I need to sleep.”
And after that, what?
He once again hauled her to her feet, then stood back and studied her. Bit by bit her bonds were being released. All that was left now were the gag and wrist restraints, and if she hadn’t already run through her options, she might have convinced herself that she was close to being able to run. But she was barefoot, had no water, and didn’t know where she was. Unless she had a death wish, she had no choice but to stay where she was—for now.
“There.” He pointed toward the rear of the house. “Head that way.”
Both resenting and grateful for the order, she did as she’d been told. The flooring felt luxurious with each large square slightly different so she knew this was real stone and not some reproduction. Discrete wood blinds had all but been built into the window casings so they nearly disappeared when not in use, which was how they were now. From what she could tell from her glimpses of the surrounding desert, there wasn’t another manmade structure around.
She didn’t know what the house’s exterior looked like but imagined that the colors blended with what nature had designed. And yet it included all the modern conveniences anyone could want as witnessed by the oversized bathroom she’d just walked into. Not only was the shower large enough to accommodate at least four people comfortably, but next to it was a massive tub complete with eight jets. If the sight of the toilet hadn’t made its impact on her bladder, she’d have taken all the time she needed to study the room. As it was, she was interested in only one thing.
And yet she was helpless to care for her own needs.
Shooting Reeve a pleading look, she noted that he was in need of a shave, and the bags under his eyes spoke of his sleepless night. “I’m going to release your arms,” he said. “I hope it goes without saying that I trust you’re not going to try something. You won’t win—never doubt that, you won’t win.”
Nodding, she turned from him so he’d have easy access to her bonds. Thank goodness she was accustomed to being handled; otherwise she might lose her mind before this was over.
When was it going to be over, she asked as he unhooked whatever had been holding her wrists together. And what’s going to be left of me when it is?
Her arms fell to her sides, prompting her to stare at them. Pins and needles attacked her shoulders, and she bit into her gag. Much as she needed to unfasten her shorts, she couldn’t until more feeling had returned to her hands so she flexed her fingers and wondered whether her sister was awake and if she’d tried to get in touch with her yet.
Please have gotten my messages. Even if it means you couldn’t sleep last night, feel you have to get in touch with me.
“Are you going to do it or am I?”
Furious, she fumbled with her button. Pulling down on the zipper tab took longer, but finally she pushed her garments down to her knees. Because she’d already known he had no intention of giving her privacy, she settled for averting her eyes while sitting on the toilet. The moment her ass came in contact with the porcelain, she let go. Relief!
Finally done, she wiped herself and reached down for her clothing. “Take them off.”
A retort backed up in her dry throat, but she did as he’d ordered because his eyes gave her no choice. She stepped out of her shorts and panties, then at his gesture, she stood and backed against the shower door, giving him access to the toilet. He watched her the whole time he was urinating. That done, he let his shorts slide to the floor. “Your top,” he ordered.
Although she’d been anticipating this, she made no move to obey. Instead, she reached for the knot that kept her gag in place. To her surprise he didn’t stop her, his silence letting her know that he didn’t care whether she called for help because there wasn’t anyone around to hear. Much as she wanted to call him every foul name she could think of, when she’d pulled the gag out of her mouth, all she did was work moisture into her mouth and lick her lips.
Then, not thinking, she pulled her top over her head, unfastened her bra and dropped it to the floor next to the rest of her clothes. After studying her with an intensity that no doubt mirrored her own, he pulled off his shirt. For the first time since their worlds had collided, she was looking at him fully naked. Of course she was too, not that it mattered because she couldn’t think beyond stone-hard muscles and deeply tanned flesh.
No question about it, this wasn’t a businessman’s body.
“Give me your hands.”
She could have refused, could have fought. But not only would he have won the battle, she needed to see where this was heading. When, damn it, when either she got loose or he released her, she had to be able to tell law enforcement everything.
Holding her arms toward him gave her her first clear look at what he’d fastened around her wrists. The two-inch-wide leather strips bore a resemblance to bracelets but lacked any ornamentation. A metal locking device kept them in place, and she only had to glance at the metal rings imbedded in the leather to know their purpose. There was enough play that she could slide a finger between her skin and the cuffs, which meant she wouldn’t have to worry about losing circulation for as long as she wore them.
Taking her right wrist, he turned it so the ring was within easy reach. Only then did she realized he’d been holding something in the palm of his left hand. He fastened the something to the ring with a decisive snap. Then, before she had time to comprehend, he snagged her other wrist and brought the two together. Another no-nonsense snap said everything. He’d looped a metal oval hook through both rings and locked it. Her hands were again cuffed together, in front this time.
“Into the shower.”
Being nude and without use of her arms transported her into the familiar world framed by her career. Much like a calf with a rope around its neck, she stood trembling and helpless and alive. She had no thoughts of resisting him but also couldn’t think how to obey. He’d made her his; she’d become his responsibility. Let him deal with the aftereffects.
Perhaps he could read her mind because instead of repeating the order, he used his hold on her elbow to force her to the side so he’d have access to the shower. Opening the door, he reached in and turned on the water. Instead of a single shower head, there were three separate sprays. They all pulsed, the water changing from a light mist to a strong jet, drenching the oversized shower in a near river of warmth. And when he guided her into the enclosure she went willingly.
He followed her in as she knew he would, closing the door behind him. Instead of waiting for his orders, she stepped into the spray so
it struck her throat and breasts. The pulsating, gyrating water felt as if it were penetrating her outer layers while it searched for her lungs and heart.
If her dumb compliance confused him, he gave no sign. Instead, he slowly turned her in a circle so the water hit every inch of her from the neck down. When he adjusted the nozzle so a strong spray was directed at her pussy, she spread her legs. Having the water slap her there wasn’t the only thing responsible for her growing submission; he, her captor, was a vital part of the scene. She’d become his creature, his object. Being tired and lost also played their own roles of course. In addition, although it made no sense, she simply wanted to see where this was heading.
He was maybe eight inches taller than she, hard where she was soft, confident in contrast to her confusion, and when he released her, she made no attempt to move. He reached for a rose-scented bar of soap and lathered a luxurious-looking washcloth. Moving behind her, he indicated that he wanted her to bend forward. Obeying him meant she could no longer see him, but he’d already taught her that he could force her to do whatever he wanted. Water was running into her eyes so she closed them, keeping her stance wide so she wouldn’t risk losing her balance.
The soap felt like liquid satin, the scent intoxicating. After lying on her side in the back of a car for hours, having her skin pampered felt wonderful. At the same time she was no fool. Just because he was being gentle now was no reason to believe that would continue. He’d said something about a plan for her, a use he intended to put her to.
Curiosity about that use faded and died when he reached the base of her spine. Up until then his touch had been so light that she’d been hard-pressed to distinguish it from what the shower was responsible for. Now, however, gentleness changed into possessiveness. You’re mine, his hand around her middle proclaimed as he bent her even farther forward. For as long as I say, he added simply by running the cloth between her ass cheeks.
Whether having her head so low that blood rushed to her temple was responsible didn’t matter. What did was her reawakening awareness of herself as a functioning human being. This wasn’t a movie; she wasn’t a well-paid model who’d agreed to have her most intimate parts exposed. She was in the hands of a powerful and perhaps dangerous man, and she was a fool to have tried to delude herself into thinking anything else.
The washcloth was between her legs, suds coating her labia and running down her inner thighs. Over and over again he stroked the length of her pussy, each journey forcing a sigh from her. The formerly soft terry cloth now scraped her unbelievably sensitive flesh, bringing her onto her toes in an insane attempt to put distance between herself and what was both pleasure and pain. No matter how much she tried to keep it trapped inside her, a long and low moan rolled out of her.
“You’re going to be so easy,” he muttered. The words were no more than just out of his mouth when he grabbed her hair and jerked her upright.
Sharp pain on her scalp separated her from stimulation, that and the fact that he’d removed the washcloth from between her legs. She tried to look back at him only to have her head held firmly in place. The fear she’d been able to briefly deny seeped into her. Fingers clenched and her thoughts locked on how much damage she might be able to inflict with her hands together like this, she concentrated on breathing without bringing too much water into her nostrils and mouth.
“You remind me of a horse I broke once,” he said with his mouth near her ear. “As long as I kept a rope on him, he’d let me do everything I wanted. He led me to believe he’d accepted that I was in charge. But the moment he was free to run, he was hell to capture again. I’m keeping my ropes on you, Saree. Let them teach your body their own lessons.”
His ropes on her, lessons for her body to learn. Instead of recoiling from the implications, she all but crawled into the words.
She heard the washcloth hit the floor. Then he released her hair and pushed her forward until she was directly under the spray, her instantly drenched long hair in her face. No matter that it was hard to breathe, she wasn’t about to make the mistake of trying to move where he didn’t want her. Instead, she stood with her fingers still clenched and her hands pressing against her mons, listening, waiting, anticipating.
Another possessive tug on her hair pulled her back and against him. Tense, she tried to blink water out of her eyes. A new aroma, this one a heady vanilla, calmed her a little. She relaxed even more when she realized the smell came from the shampoo he was putting on her hair. Standing straight and still, she followed his every move. He’d started by soaping the top of her head and was now working the suds down the strands. To her relief, he’d pushed her hair off her face and was taking care not to get shampoo near her eyes. When she was a small girl her parents had pampered her by shampooing her hair, and although this experience was quite different, there was a single common ground.
She felt cherished.
Cherished? What a fool she was to believe that of a man who intended to mold her in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend! She had to pull herself together and see this moment for what it surely was, his manipulation of her emotions.
Her grip on her senses slightly firmer than they’d been a minute ago, she vowed to separate her mind from what was happening to her body. Her determination got her through the rest of the shampooing and rinse. She managed to return his stare while he carefully washed her face, and if her composure slipped when he turned his attention to her throat and breasts, she told herself that he was studying his handiwork instead of her. Another point in her favor; his erection was growing. True, he might decide to bury it in her, but at least he wasn’t immune to what he was doing.
When it came time to wash her legs, he backed her against the tile and propped her foot on his thigh. Then, a slightly bemused expression softening his stern features a little, he covered every inch of her from crotch down with soapy foam. The slow and thorough process forced her to draw comparisons between herself and ice left in the sun. She was losing form and definition and taking on the contours of whatever container she’d been placed in—or more accurately, parts of her seemed to be sloughing off so he could pick them up and mold them to his needs.
Finally, thank goodness, he must have decided she was clean enough for his exacting standards because he directed her to stand in a corner while he washed himself. He showed no sign of being embarrassed by his erection; neither did he give her any indication that he intended to use her to reverse its condition.
Good. The last thing she wanted or needed was to have sex with him.
9
Saree sat on a high stool across the kitchen island from where Reeve was cooking breakfast. After they’d gotten out of the shower, he’d directed her to towel dry her hair and wrap the oversized towel around herself, no easy task. Then he’d refastened her hands behind her. Being essentially naked while he wore a fresh shirt and shorts was disconcerting but not nearly as much as having again been robbed of the use of her hands.
She didn’t like any part of what was happening—except for the wonderful aroma of sautéing onions and mushrooms. Had he stocked the kitchen before coming after her or was one of his partners responsible?
Thoughts of who else was in on this caused her to replay the short phone conversation he’d had earlier. Now that she’d run it through her mind, she believed the woman he’d mentioned had managed to replicate her voice, thus convincing her employers that they’d spoken to her.
“This isn’t going to work,” she blurted. “You can’t just kidnap me and expect to get away with it.”
“You haven’t been kidnapped. You accepted the invitation of a wealthy and persuasive man you’ve fallen in love with to be with him for the foreseeable future.”
The words thudded around her. Although she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
“I’m going to tell you several things because I believe you’ll be better equipped to focus on what happens between the two of us if you’ve accepted certain realities.”
“Wh
at realities?” Her throat was dry.
“A woman pretending to be you called management at The Dungeon. Because of the timing, I’m guessing she left messages on their answering machines either last night or early this morning. I have no doubt she was quite believable. Her acting abilities are considerable, and she’s been watching your videos long enough to have your speech patterns and word choices down. The short story, the mysterious man who showed up on a set the other day has swept you off your feet. You don’t know how things are going to work out between the two of you, but you’re excited about doing whatever needs to be done in order to explore the possibilities. People aren’t to try to get in touch with you because you don’t know where you’ll be when. It’s all about spontaneity.”
Suddenly dizzy, she dug her toes into the footrests. Reeve had helped her onto the high seat, and although she’d both enjoyed and resented his assistance, she now understood why he’d done what he had. She couldn’t get down without risking a fall.
“No one’s going to be looking for me?” she whispered. At least no one at work.
“Correct. Don’t worry about your mortgage and utilities; they’ll be paid. Fortunately you don’t have pets. You might lose some inside plants but thanks to your yard service, your neighbors won’t become alarmed.”
Had they thought of everything?
“Some of your friends within the industry will feel slighted because you didn’t personally get in touch with them, but the less contact we have with them, the less chance of a slipup.”
If only the dizziness would lift! It was nearly unbelievable that they’d made it possible for her to drop off the face of the earth. There’d be no missing person’s report, no worried neighbors or colleagues, no one afraid for her.
