Stolen Flame

by D W Marshall

  Any contact could send me over the edge.

  The energy between us sizzles, It’s wonderful, but makes it hard for me to breathe. It’s crazy, beautiful and scary as hell.

  As if he can read my mind, he scoots closer to me, so that our arms are touching. Mmm. My eyes close instinctively. There are no sounds, no people, only his skin on mine searing and molding us. For me, it is everything. I take a gulp of air, but my eyes remain closed. Heat and vibrations start in the center of my chest and move toward my fingertips and toes. If I spoke, my words would come out shaky.

  “I feel it,” he says at a volume that I hope only I can hear.

  I open my eyes and everyone reappears. The sounds of the party compete with the thrumming of my heartbeat in my ears.

  Not looking at him, I take a long draw of my beer, act dumb and say, “What?”

  Sitting here so naturally with Tyson, even my beer tastes good, and I don’t even like beer that much.

  “The buzz of energy between us. The tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’m going down a steep drop on a roller coaster.” He inclines his hand and moves it up, before cresting over the imaginary edge. My stomach goes along for the ride.

  “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s…it’s…” He pauses.

  “Indescribable, mystifying, overwhelming.” I breathe out all of the things I’ve been feeling.

  His pinky finger moves on top of mine, and I stare down at our hands.

  He doesn’t have to say a word at first, he answers with his eyes—they say it all. Then he says, “All of that.”

  So he feels it, too.

  What are we doing? Is this just a strong infatuation? Or, is he a temporary solution to my current situation—a lifeline that I grabbed hold of to survive? Worse, what if Mason doesn’t approve and takes him away from me? Will I drown? Yes.

  “You don’t know how much I want to kiss you right now,” Tyson whispers, looking down at me. His eyes rest on my lips, before finding my eyes again. His filled with desire and hope, mine answer back in kind, as shivers run down my spine and I part my lips on a sharp inhale before I break contact.

  I look back down and kick my feet in a slow rhythm, enjoying the resistance.

  “Believe me, I do,” I say, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. Instead I stare everywhere else.

  Suddenly, we both go into the pool with a splash. I squeal in surprise, and turn to find the culprits—Sapphire and her guard.

  Good thing I can swim, because the water is deeper than I expected.

  Tyson turns and bathes them in retaliatory waves of water, and we burst into fits of laughter. It’s what we needed. Our trance is broken.

  “Fuck, you look even better wet,” Tyson says.

  “Whatever!” I splash him. Big mistake. Tyson takes this opportunity to pick me up and toss me into the air, and I crash into the water. When I come to the surface, sputtering and gasping for air, his eyes are full of mirth. I jump onto his back and try to no avail to sink him.

  Not a good idea. The close proximity is killing me. In a brave move, while I’m on his back, I whisper into his ear, “I want you.”

  Tyson flips me suddenly, and I go under again. As I come to the surface, I feel his lips kiss an exposed spot on my bottom. Oh. I sigh.

  This is bad. Anyone watching has to know that there is something already between us. I make a fast decision, swim to the edge, and start pulling people into the pool. Zion, Roxy, Mason.

  What I start is the mother of all water fights. One of the guards tosses in a bunch of water guns—the huge, super-soaker kind—and that’s it. It’s a full-blown battle royale, with every man and woman for themselves.

  I must swallow a gallon of water from screaming and being splashed and dunked. Even in the madness, I never lose sight of Tyson. When my eyes find his, he’s always watching me.

  Damn, I want him.

  By the time the fight dies down, I’m famished. Before I can get a towel around my body, Tyson is standing before me with two plates heavy with food.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  We find a table off to the side, away from the water in case another fight breaks loose.

  “I’m starving,” I say and drive my fork into a heap of macaroni and cheese.

  “I figured as much,” he says, watching me.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask around a mouthful.

  He blushes, caught. “Sure. I guess I can’t help it,” he says, taking a bite of his steak. I massacre the macaroni and move on to the next item, grilled salmon.

  So good.

  “I never get to see you like this.” He looks around. “We could be anywhere right now. I can imagine that you’re mine and we’re at a buddy’s barbecue. Not here. That’s how I want it to be. I’m taking little snapshots,” he admits.

  I blush into my hand, stunned that he just said these things to me. I’m sure my skin is tinted an embarrassed shade of pink, but inside I’m thrilled by his admission. “That sounds…wonderful.” My heart aches with how much I wish his words were true.

  He starts eating his food, never letting his eyes leave mine.

  If I was his.

  Could I spend a lifetime under that gaze? When he looks at me he makes me feel like I alone am the reason for his existence, as if I’m the only person in the room, on this earth, in the universe. That’s what his hazel-eyed gaze does to me.

  When I leave this place, I know that I’ll never forget him. Ever.

  “So…” I move food around my plate with my fork. “Do you expect that I’m going to be too sleepy to descend The Chamber stairs anytime soon?” I ask, hopeful. I make sure no one is in earshot of us.

  “Very soon.”

  As night falls, I realize that with the exception of the water fight, a couple of potty breaks, and a brief conversation I had with Mason and Zion, Tyson and I are together. We’re tethered together by whatever it is that connects us. I never want to leave his side, even for the brief times that I have to. Even when I was caught up in a conversation with someone else, my eyes sought him out, and he was always watching me.

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am his. If only for now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Back to Work

  The pool party was a perfect idea, and Mason is kind of an evil genius.

  He manages to create a social environment under the worst possible conditions, so much that I feel guilty for surviving here. We’re safe, just like he said we’d be. No one has harmed us. We do have our brains fucked out five days per week, but somehow, even that isn’t as bad as it could be.

  Because everything else is…nice.

  The pampering, the food, the clean and safe housing, the friendships, and even the parties. I guess they try to make it as bearable as possible. Mason gives us many opportunities to forget why we’re here. We’re not locked up in some dank, dark concrete cell. We aren’t shackled and fed rations of rice and bread. We aren’t beaten, either. I’m not saying I like it, but Mason has found a way to make it…habitable.

  Yesterday, I actually had fun. The best part was spending time with Tyson in the open getting to know him. He’s such a serious person, but I can tell he has a funny side, and I can’t wait to peel back the next layer to find more.

  It was like any other day with a group of twenty-somethings hanging out. It reminded me of tailgating at UNLV football games.

  It made me miss school. My friends and I didn’t just attend classes, we made ourselves a big part of campus life. Will my life ever return to normal? Will I care about getting my degree in interior architectural design? How can I? Will I ever get the chance?

  Tonight it is back to business in The Chamber.

  After I clean up the breakfast dishes, I rush back to my room to do what is now my routine envelope check—every day after breakfast and again after dinner. When I see the lavender envelope poking out, I nearly jump right out of my skin. I snatch it and run to my spot in the bathroom stall.

  My V
ivian,

  Yesterday was like a dream. I don’t know if you noticed that no matter where you were, my eyes were on you. I can’t get enough of you. I want you to fall asleep in your Chamber tonight. I crave more time with you. I’ll be watching closely tonight. If you need me, I’ll be right downstairs.

  Please remember that.

  Yours,

  Dom

  His words and knowing that I get to spend time with him two days in a row fuels me.

  “Somebody woke up on the happy side of the bed,” Zion says as she gets me ready.

  I smile at her. “I slept like a baby.”

  When Zion hands me my lineup for the night, I cringe at one name that stands out. I would know him by his list of expectations: do not speak, do not make eye contact. Mr. Creepy.

  I’ve been through the entire lottery. Most of the guys aren’t too deviant in their desires. Only a few stand out to me. A handful of them, including this one, show up periodically, not every week. I was hoping he got bored and crawled back underneath whatever rock he came out from. I guess I was wrong.

  Do not speak, do not make eye contact. Fuck.

  Tonight is my lucky night.

  “I know, he’s a creep. Tyson won’t let him hurt you,” she promises. “At least he’s first.”

  I turn and scowl at her. “He is fucking creepy in any place in the lineup,” I say.

  Dominic, Dominic, Dom. I repeat his name like a mantra as I descend The Chamber stairs.

  Mr. Creepy is already on my bed when I walk into my Chamber, flat on his back and naked with his erection pointing into the air. Zion follows close behind me.

  Why? She never comes into the room if one of them is inside.

  I learn all too soon when she covers my eyes with a satin scarf and guides me toward him. I climb onto the mattress with blind faith and my hands are pulled above my head and secured into cuffs above me. How the fuck am I supposed to see what I’m doing?

  “He wants you to ride him,” she whispers into my ear.

  Why can’t he tell me what he wants? Zion helps me find the location of his erection. I sink down onto him, using only my legs for balance. His erection is long and hard, and I can feel it throbbing inside of me.

  The room is quiet, no music. The worst.

  I tune into my racing heart and match its rhythm with my thrusts—quickening them until my body takes over and I forget where I am, who I am with, and I’m able to ignore the eerie mattress bouncing sounds in the room. I use the muscles deep inside of me to squeeze myself around his cock, thereby increasing my pleasure.

  A moan crawls up my throat, but I stifle it. Do not speak.

  I breathe heavy and loud as I grind myself onto his long cock. I rise off of his cock, using my legs to push up, and slam myself back down. The pleasure builds, but I will not come for Mr. Creepy. I attempt my very first fake orgasm.

  I shake and shudder, and breathe erratically.

  He must buy it because he comes right after me. I’m hoping he does me a solid and vanishes.

  He doesn’t.

  Instead he pushes me to my feet on the bed with my hands still tied above my head. He pushes my legs apart with his hands. His mouth attaches to my nipple, and he begins to suck each one hard.

  He is so rough that I hiss at the contact. He drives his fingers inside of my sex, and begins thrusting them in and out while he tries to remove my nipples with his mouth. Just when I cannot take the agony another second, just before I’m about to scream for Tyson, he stops the brutal sucking. His fingers leave my sex, and before I can prepare for it, he slams his cock inside of me. Standing.

  His face is so close to mine. I can’t see him, but I can feel his hot breath against my skin, meaning his mouth is so close to mine.

  Please don’t kiss me. I will vomit all over you if you do.

  He breathes hot, heavy, and pounds his cock inside of my sex with almost angry desperation. Over and over. His hands squeeze my body too hard.

  I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t disappear. I am here.

  My body aches…raw.

  I am thankful that I’m blindfolded. My tears soak the cloth through.

  I hate Mr. Creepy. I fucking hate him.

  I don’t know how long I stand with my arms over my head while Mr. Creepy reminds me of where I am. With every thrust he brings me back to reality. His eerie silence as he does whatever he wants to me makes me feel that I am a sex slave, nothing more than a captive plaything, a prisoner of The Chamber.

  He punishes my tender walls with the violence of his pounding while I silently cry. Mr. Creepy reaches multiple climaxes inside of me, while I endure them all in silence.

  When he leaves as silently as he came, I break down. Heavy, desperate sobs escape me.

  My hands are released from their bindings. The blindfold is pulled from my face. When I see that it’s Tyson who frees me, I let go. He takes me into his arms, and I fold into him, trying to bury myself inside of his embrace. My body is shaking beyond my control.

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  He peppers my cheeks and forehead with feathery kisses, like a parent would when soothing an ailing child. He takes me into the bathroom. The sobs that break free don’t sound like any sound that I’ve ever produced in my lifetime.

  He doesn’t say a word. He is pissed, I can feel fury pouring out of him.

  “What happened?” Zion asks walking into the bathroom. Her voice laced with alarm.

  “I’m gonna fucking kill that motherfucker! That’s what’s about to happen,” he says, setting me down gently into a chair. He starts pacing immediately. “Look at her!” he shouts.

  “Oh, my goodness!” she gasps.

  I turn to the mirror and see what the fuss is about. The bruising is already sprinkling my fair skin. My breasts are covered with bright blue and red, that twists into brighter purple and every place he grabbed me is turning before my eyes. I gasp and cry harder.

  “That’s it! I told Mason to leave her the fuck alone!” Tyson shouts as he starts to leave.

  “No!” I reach for him. “Don’t leave me,” I plead between sobs. “He didn’t really hurt me.” I lie, anything to keep him from leaving my side. I have no doubt the money that Mr. Creepy brings in is more important than keeping Tyson here, and I can’t lose him.

  I have already lost so much.

  His eyes cut to slits and his shoulders rise and fall as he stares down at me.

  “He scared me more than anything. He scares all of us.” My voice is small, almost a whisper.

  “He will never hurt you again.” Tyson caresses my face and I lean into his cupped hand.

  “Mason,” Tyson speaks into a handheld device. “I need you in Flame’s Chamber immediately.” His voice clipped and sharp.

  “On my way,” Mason says through the speaker.

  We only wait a few minutes before Mason comes through the bathroom archway. He stops in front of me. I look worse for wear. Tears streak my face, and I have bruises everywhere.

  “What the hell happened here?” Mason breaks character. His eyes are wide and his jaw slack.

  Zion begins covering me with salve.

  “That fucking asshole Serge did this, boss!” Tyson spits. “I told you not to bring her here. This is your fault.” This part he says low, but not so low that I don’t hear him. That’s the second time he’s said something about me not coming here.

  He grabs his head and paces. “I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

  Mason turns to Tyson. He takes a healthy breath, then another.

  “No, you’re going to let me deal with the asshole. We are not going to kill him. We are going to give him our version of a stern warning. After, we’ll have to decide whether he remains a part of our Chamber.

  Tyson stops pacing and looks at Mason. “Understood.”

  Mason comes to stand in front of me again. “I am so sorry about this, Flame. If—and it is a big if—he remains with us, this will never happen again.” He kisses
me on the cheek. “You have a couple of hours before your next…guest. Are you up to it?”

  “I will be,” I say. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to spend the night with Tyson.

  My next guests are much kinder.

  Mason claps his hands together. “Then it’s settled. I’d better go have a chat with Mr. Serge.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Tyson states.

  My heart picks up. No. Tyson may kill him.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, given your present state. You stay here with Flame, make sure she’s okay,” Mason orders.

  Thank heavens.

  He is gone without another word.

  “Time for you to soak.” Zion says after I’m gooped up with salve. Before I attempt to stand Tyson already has me in his arms. I wrap my arms around him and while my face is so close to his, I plant tiny kisses along his jaw and cheek. His warm smile makes me feel better, even though his anger is still palpable.

  “I will leave you two to talk,” Zion says.

  The hot water stings my tender spots. I really try to hide my pain and discomfort. I grimace only when I think Tyson isn’t looking.

  “Why didn’t you call out for me?” He gazes into my eyes, his laced with sadness.

  I look down, my stomach twisting with guilt for the pain behind his eyes.

  “I almost did. It took everything I had not to. I’m still new to sex and all of this kinky shit. I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to happen.” Tears explode from my eyes again, as sobs break through my chest.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Tyson stands and begins disrobing. He strips down to his boxer briefs, and climbs into the tub with me. Thank goodness it’s big enough for us both. Some of the water displaces and spills out onto the floor. He wraps me into his arms, my head resting on his chest. We spend an unknown amount of time like that in silence. His slow, steady breaths comfort me.

  “Baby, you never have to be sorry about anything. You are the bravest, strongest person I know. Your strength gives me courage.”