by J. L. Beck
“Fine then, finger me so you have your answer since you don’t believe a single word I’m saying.” I barely finish saying the words when I feel him shove my panties to the side and his fingers slip between my folds to find my entrance.
Panic makes my body go stiff. I grip onto his forearm. The muscles quiver beneath my fingers. I don't know why I grabbed onto his arm, maybe to stop him? To feel some type of control over the situation? I don't know. My thighs squeeze together.
“Spread your legs,” he orders
I try to relax my legs. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it won’t hurt too bad. Never having done this before, I don't know what to expect.
“Please go slow,” I whisper, not knowing if he even heard me or if he would care enough to do it at all.
I feel his fingertip slip in as if he is probing me. Slowly, he pushes his thick finger inside. I can feel my walls gripping his finger tightly as he pushes in to his knuckle and then even farther until he is in all the way.
I gasp and my back arches off the cot slightly at the foreign sensation. It doesn't hurt, not like I'd expected.
His finger feels so thick inside of me, and I can’t imagine what it would feel like to have his cock inside me instead. The thought ignites something deep inside my core.
“Look at me.” His voice is different. For the first time today, he doesn’t sound so angry. I follow his command and pry my eyes open. His face is only a few inches from mine, looking at me like he is trying to solve a puzzle and all the answers lie somewhere within my face. I use the time to inspect his features in return. Of course, he is annoyingly handsome. Dark alluring eyes, strong jaw line, and full lips that are begging to be kissed. His hair is dark and disheveled. He looks tired… so tired.
We stare at each other for a few moments, and I forget that he still has a finger inside of me until he pulls it out. I feel empty and cold when he does, and both of those feelings confuse the hell out of me. I shouldn't be feeling this way about this man.
“How did you end up at my father’s place?” he questions.
“I don’t know. I just woke up there… dressed in this.” I look down at the lingerie barely covering my body.
He nods as if he actually believes what I say. Then he straightens, stands up, and turns like he is about to leave.
Strangely, I don’t want him to go. For the first time in hours, I feel safe, even though I know it’s a temporary feeling. There is nothing safe about Xander. Nothing at all.
“Can I go now?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He steps out of the cell and closes the door behind him. Betrayal hits me hard. I thought he believed me… how stupid could I be?
“Don’t leave me in here.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly realizing how cold it is down here, at the loss of his body heat. “I’m freezing.”
“Maybe if I find time later, I’ll bring you a blanket. If not, I’ll see you in the morning and we can talk more then.”
I jump up from the cot, anger suddenly flooding my body. “Why are you keeping me here? I told you I don’t know anything. You felt for yourself that I’m not one of your father’s whores.”
“You think simply because you have a tight pussy that you can fool me into believing you're a virgin?” He scowls as if I've insulted him or something.
“I’m not lying to you. I swear!” I grip onto the cold bars, willing him to believe me.
“We’ll see, until then, I think I'll keep you to play with, just for a little bit.” His words make me stumble backward, and I almost fall on my ass. Why did I believe he would let me go? “Goodnight, little mouse.” He grins before disappearing into the dark hallway.
The cold seems to seep deeper into my bones as he walks away. My body shivers uncontrollably, my teeth clicking together. I sit back down on the cot and pull my knees to my chest. I try and force myself to go to sleep but it's so cold there's no way sleep will come.
I look down at my hands. My wrists are still bloody, my face aches, and a distinct pounding forms behind my eyes.
Tears well in my eyes. I've cried so much today that I don't want to cry anymore. I tuck my chin into my chest, trying to stay warm. I should be grateful, right? I’m alive and Xander hasn't hurt me. Not really. He saved me from all the things his father would have done to me. Xander is definitely worth fearing, but the way he looks at me with the interest that appears in his eyes… I know I'm more valuable to him alive than dead, and I am going to use that fact to survive.
How the hell did I end up in this situation? All I wanted to do is find my sister… I still do. She’s only just turned eighteen, and she’s never been on her own. She needs me. I’ve been her legal guardian since she was sixteen, and our parents died driving home drunk from an all-night binger. I was only nineteen at the time myself, but what other choice did I have? I couldn’t let her go into foster care. She’s the only family I have left, so I replaced our parents. Worked my ass off to support us. Sacrificed my social life completely by taking care of her… and I would do it over again a million times if I had to. She’s my everything, and now I’ve failed her so fucking much.
I exhale all the air in my lungs, clenching my fists together. I look at my surroundings. There is no escaping this cell. Then I realize something. When Xander left, he didn't lock me inside. I didn't hear a lock, and I didn’t see a key. Though it's not unlikely that the door locked by itself when it closed. I shove my fists into my eyes. How could I get myself into such a mess?
I remove my hands and stare at the door of the cell. Xander’s not a dumb man, and I doubt he'd make it that easy for me to escape. Yet, it doesn't hurt me to check. I get up from the cot on shaky legs and walk over to the door. The coldness on my feet makes me yelp but I bite my lip, stifling the noise.
If I'm going to escape, I'll need to be as quiet as a mouse. The irony of the statement makes me smile, and it feels foreign as I do so. I haven’t smiled in days, it seems. Not since I came to that house to rescue my sister and got myself here.
Focusing on the task at hand, I push and pull on the door, the cold bars beneath my fingers making me shiver more. I’m cold, so damn cold, and I just want out of this godforsaken room. I clench my jaw, ignoring the shivers that rack my body and put more effort into moving the door, but it doesn’t budge. It’s solid as a brick wall.
I lean down and examine the lock instead… it’d be easy to pick, if I had something to pick it with, that is. Shaking my head in defeat, I walk back toward the cot. I slump down and huddle into the fetal position. I stay like this for a long time, could be hours, days, I don’t really know. What I do know is that eventually my eyes grow heavy with exhaustion, and I slip into a fitful sleep, wondering what Xander plans to do with me next.
Chapter 4
Xander
I pace the floor of my bedroom; my fingers sink into my hair as I grip it almost painfully. I feel conflicted… confused. I’ve never felt this way about a prisoner and definitely not about a woman before. I don’t want to hurt her… I really fucking don’t. But I have an image to uphold, a duty, a job as the boss of the family.
There are people relying on me, people who need me.
People like my son.
I grit my teeth and exhale out of my nostrils. Maybe I just need to fuck her out of my system, get a taste of her. My mind drifts back to the memory of the way her tight pussy clenched around my finger. How she claimed to be a virgin and clammed up at my touch. She did feel like a virgin but that’s no proof.
I’m trapped between two scenarios, and I can’t figure out which one is the truth. Maybe she’s a good actress? Or maybe she is telling the truth? Though I find it hard to believe such an attractive woman could still be intact, it wouldn’t be completely impossible.
I clench my jaw tighter. Her pussy felt like heaven wrapped around my finger and since coming back upstairs, I’ve done everything humanly possible next to cutting my own legs off to stop myself from going back down there.
She looks so
fragile, like a delicate fucking flower, and I don’t want to snuff out the light that she needs to grow, but I can’t just let her go either. I need whatever information she knows… she must know something more. Innocent or not, if she can’t tell me anything then she has no use in my house, and if there is no use for her then she might as well be dead.
I leave my room in a huff and head back toward the basement, my feet moving all on their own. Emotions I’ve never felt before swirl deep inside my head. What is it about this strawberry-blonde woman that tugs at my fucking heartstrings?
She’s under my skin, inside my head, and wreaking havoc on my life, and she’s been here what, a few hours’ time? I can’t let this continue… I’m stronger than this. Caring for her, that’s a complete weakness.
I rush down the stairs faster, this weird feeling in my gut taking root. Something is off. I reach for my gun just to make sure it’s there even though I know it’s always there. Old habits never die, I suppose.
When I enter the basement, the sinking feeling I had is confirmed. A male voice echoes through the dark hallway, his shadow lingering along the walls.
Anger rears its ugly head, and I know I’m about to do something that I may not like.
I reach for my gun again, this time taking it out. I flick the safety off, holding it in front of me, ready to shoot at any given time. I start to walk around the corner when I spot one of my newest guards in front of her cell, trying to unlock the door.
I grit my teeth. What the fuck is this prick doing? I told every single one of my guys to stay out of the basement. He knew I was hiding something, but was it any of his fucking business to investigate? No.
The fury festering inside me boils over when I hear the cell unlock, and I watch him step into the cell. “Now let’s have some fun before the boss comes back. Spread those creamy white thighs for me. I want to see if you’re as innocent as you look.”
As quietly as I can, I move closer until I’m right behind him.
I don’t dare look at the girl’s face. I don’t want to see the spiraling fear inside her baby-blue eyes, not unless I put it there. Raising my gun to the idiot’s head, I pull the trigger. His body hits the floor before the sound of the gun going off has even reached my ears.
A scream from my sweet mouse fills my ears.
She needs me… she needs my protection.
The thought forms in my mind and I ignore it.
I step over the dead body and into the cell. I’ll have to get one of the other men to clean this up, and then I’ll have to call a meeting letting everyone know that no one touches her. No one. My eyes scan the cell, until they find her tiny body. She is huddled up on the floor against the wall farthest away, looking just as scared as I thought she would be.
Like a mouse caught in a trap, she is at my mercy. I stare at her for a long moment, wondering what I will do with her. There’s a feral look in her eyes, and I wonder if she thinks I’m going to hurt her? The muscle in my chest beats harshly.
Guilt washes over me… a feeling I rarely experience anymore. I don’t know why I feel bad for her, why I feel bad for killing this bastard in her presence. I shouldn’t feel anything for her at all… I shouldn’t care at all about anything that pertains to her, but I do.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I gesture for her to come forward, but she doesn't move or give me any other sign that she heard what I said.
She just keeps staring at the body lying on the floor outside the cell. Yet, another indicator that she is telling the truth. How she could have been one of my father’s whores and get spooked by a man being shot in the head?
Shaking my head at the thought, I walk deeper into the cell, stopping only once I’m standing right in front of her. The tip of my shoes almost touch her toe.
“Are you coming?” I try my best to keep my tone soft. She’s already scared enough as it is, what’s the point in scaring her more?
Still nothing. No reaction at all.
I eye her once more. Her body is tucked into itself as if to make her already small body appear smaller. Her fingers grip her knees so hard her knuckles turn white. I inspect her features closer; they’re a cross between fear and shock.
She’s definitely never witnessed a murder, or any crime, before. Fuck, she’s going to be a piece of work, and I just don’t have the time for that shit.
But you want to.
I sigh loudly and stick the gun back into the holster at my side. Then I kneel down beside her and slide my arms under her small body. I lift her up in my arms, and I wonder if she will fight me or beg me to put her down. When she doesn’t, I wonder if she’s had a mental breakdown.
As I bring her body into my chest, she goes stiff and rigid at first, but once I stand up and start walking with her, her arms snake around my neck. She cuddles into my chest, like I’m the only person who can protect her from the monsters in the dark. She hasn’t realized yet that I am the monster in the dark.
Who does she think I am? I should probably just put her back in that cell and lock the door. It’s what I’d do with any other person… right? Wrong. Any other person would be dead by now.
Frustration over this tiny woman spirals out of control inside me. I should stop this whole thing before it gets even further… I really should. But she just feels too fucking perfect in my arms, and I imagine her in my bed, my cock sliding deep inside her, my name falling from her lips. The urge to toss her to the floor consumes me, and I tighten my hold on her instead. I’m fighting myself tooth and nail over her, and I don’t even know why.
“You… you killed him?” she finally says.
“Yeah? What’s your point?” I try my hardest not to sound angry, but I am. I’m so fucking angry, at her, at myself, at everything.
“W… why did you kill him?” Her voice is fragile, matching her delicate facial features. She’s so tiny I could crush her in an instant. I could wrap my hands around her throat and remove her existence from my life… and I fucking don’t.
“I don’t fucking know,” I growl, reaching the bedroom… my bedroom. I kick the half open door all the way open and walk inside. Cradling her body against mine feels wrong, and right, and still so fucking wrong. I walk over to the king-sized bed and toss her down onto the mattress. She scurries backward, away from me.
Her doe eyes dazzle with fear.
“What are you going to do to me?” Her bottom lip trembles as she speaks.
God, she’s so gorgeous when she’s on the verge of tears.
“I don’t know, Mouse.” I pause briefly, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Part of me wants to put a bullet in your head; another part wants to fuck you senseless.”
I see her thighs clench together at my response, and I wonder if she would like me fucking her. I wouldn’t be gentle like she most likely deserves… I’d be ruthless, sinister. I’d fuck her until she was screaming for me to stop, and even then, I’d still keep going.
I shake the thought away, and when she doesn’t respond, I walk over to the dresser and grab a shirt out for her, flinging it at her over my shoulder.
“Either way, you should probably be scared, Mouse. I don’t take mercy on anyone, whether that be in bed or out of bed. There’s a chance I might fuck you and kill you moments later.”
When I turn around, I find her face a mask of horror. She’s scared, and that’s exactly what I need her to be for this to work out. If she’s scared of me, it’ll make it easier for me to kill her once I get her out of my system.
“Go shower and make sure you clean your wounds well. I don’t want you to die before I’m done with you.”
I remain standing, watching her movements as she slowly gets up from the bed, those big blue eyes of hers never leaving mine. When her bare feet hit the floor, she darts toward one of the open doors to her right. I haven’t told her which room is the bathroom and yet she finds it without thought.
She escapes inside with the shirt, my shirt, in her hand, and I exhale, clenching my jaw s
o hard I can feel my molars grind together.
I need a drink… a strong one. I also need to kill her, but I don’t think I can do it. I pull my gun from its holster and examine it. All I have to do is lift the barrel and pull the trigger. All I have to do is pull the fucking trigger… but I won’t. I can’t. Why? I don’t fucking know. I never had this issue before.
I hear the water in the bathroom turn on. An image of her completely naked beneath the spray enters my mind. I shake my head as if doing so will remove the image from my mind, but it doesn’t.
Why is she under my skin? In my head?
Normally, I wouldn’t have to rationalize with myself over killing someone, but with her, I have to and I don’t like it. I don’t like the power she holds over me for not being able to do it.
I walk over to the small bar I have in the corner of the room and grab a bottle of bourbon, as well as a glass. I consider drinking the entire fucking thing, but that wouldn't be smart. I need to be sober, or somewhat sober, in case there is an attack.
So, instead, I pour half a glass and walk back over to the bed, swirling the amber liquid around. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for her to finish her shower, contemplating my next move. My gun sits heavily against my thigh.
When I hear the water shut off, I down what’s left of the bourbon, letting the warmth of the liquid give me the courage I need to finish the job.
Will you live or die to today, Mouse?
Chapter 5
Ella
I step out of the luxurious shower and wrap myself up in one of the fluffy towels hanging from a rack. I take my time drying off, all well wondering what I should expect when I step out of this bathroom. My body is still shaking, from fear or cold I don’t know really.
Could be either or both at this point. I start to dry my hair and play his words inside my head. He said it’s either sex or death… and somehow, I doubt he wanted me to get clean so he could kill me. On the other hand, he gave me a t-shirt.
