by C. Hallman
What was I thinking?
“Ughh,” Alaric groans, clearing the shock-induced fog from my mind.
He is alive. A mixture of relief and fear takes residence in my chest. He is alive, and he is probably going to kill me now. I need to run!
Squatting down next to him, I drop the pan and reach into his pants pocket. The moment my fingers touch the cool metal of the key, I grab it and pull it out. I run to the door and use the key to unlock it. It takes me three times before I can get it undone with my shaking hands, but the lock finally clicks.
I turn the knob and push the door open. Then I run.
Pushing my legs as fast as I can, I dash down the driveway and into the road. The houses are far apart, but the one to the right is the closest. Choosing that one, I sprint toward the front door, hoping, praying that someone is there who can help me.
“Monroe!” Alaric’s gruff, angry voice echoes down the street, and my panic reaches new heights.
My muscles already ache, and my lungs are burning, but I still press harder, go faster. When I reach the neighbor's driveway, I hear Alaric behind me, his heavy footfall pounding against the pavement. He is closing in. He is going to get me.
“Monroe, do not knock on that door…” he warns, running after me. He is so close.
But I’m so close to the door. I can make it. I run up the five steps to the front door and start pounding against the heavy wood hysterically.
I get about three knocks in before Alaric grabs me from behind, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me back against his chest. I start struggling, immediately kicking out my legs and wailing my arms, but it’s useless because he only holds me tighter. I’m just about to scream when I hear a woman’s voice from the inside of the house.
“I’m coming.” There is a cheerful tone to her voice, almost like she is expecting someone.
“Play along, or I will kill her,” Alaric whispers into the shell of my ear, and my heart goes from hummingbird speed to zero. His threat isn't an idle one, and knowing that chills me to the bone.
Oh my god, what did I do? Not once did it cross my mind that I could put someone else in danger.
“Alaric, please don’t hurt her,” I beg for the woman’s life I don’t even know.
“Just play along.”
Alaric shifts, draping his arm over my shoulder and standing next to me just when the door opens, and we come face-to-face with a middle-aged woman who’s had a little too much Botox. She gives us a friendly smile, but there is a spark of confusion in her gaze.
“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid I left the door open last night, and my girlfriend's cat got out. I was wondering if you’ve seen it?” The lie falls off his lips so smoothly, I almost believe it myself.
“A cat? What does it look like?” She purses her red painted lips while staring straight at me, and I realize that it’s supposed to be my cat.
“It’s white with gray spots and black paw.” I describe the cat I had when I was five.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I haven’t seen a cat around, but I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.” Her eyes wander from my face down my body when they stop at my sock-covered feet.
“In my frenzy to get out to find my cat, I didn’t have time for shoes,” I explain. “I really love that cat.”
“Uhm, okay.” She looks at me dumbfounded.
“Thank you and sorry for bothering you again.” I give her a tight smile, hoping she buys it. I’ve never been a good liar, but I’ve never had someone’s life depend on it either.
Before she closes the door, Alaric has already spun us around, and we’re heading back to his place. An apology sits on the tip of my tongue, but my throat is so tight I don’t think I can get a single word out. Tears prick at my eyes, knowing that my life is probably about to end.
Alaric still has his arm around me, and if anyone sees us walking along the road, they probably think we’re a couple taking a morning stroll. No one would ever know he is a hitman for the mob and I’m his captive. Nobody would suspect he is walking me to my execution.
When we get back to the house, he walks me inside and shuts the door behind us. I’m so scared my knees are about to give out. If he wasn’t holding on to me, I would probably fall over. My vision is blurry from all the tears, and my throat hurts from my unspoken words.
“Why are you shaking? Are you cold or hurt?” Alaric turns me in his hold to inspect my face. “What’s wrong?”
Is he fucking kidding?
He runs his hand over my arms and shoulders, almost like he is making sure I’m not injured. I’m so confused about everything, which is probably the reason I bury my face in his chest and wrap my arms around his torso, hugging him like he is my savior and not my executioner.
I fully expect him to push me away, to shove me to the ground or hit me. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. I don’t understand why he’s doing it, but for the moment being, I simply let him hold me while I cry.
“I don’t want to die,” I tell him, my voice sounding just as shaky as I feel.
“I’m not going to kill you, Monroe. But if you try to run again, I will kill someone, and it will be your fault. You don’t want that, do you? You don’t want a death on your conscience.”
“No, please. I won’t run again.” Releasing my hold on him, I put enough distance between us so I can look at him. Blinking my tears away, I study his face.
“Good. If you don’t plan on running again, you have nothing to worry about. Now, go sit on the couch while I finish cooking breakfast.”
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“No. Though after we eat, I’m going to make you hold an ice pack to my head.”
Not sure if he is joking or not, I do as I’m told and take a seat on the couch while Alaric finishes cooking us breakfast as if nothing happened. He cleans up the blood on the floor between flipping the bacon, and suddenly, I feel ashamed of what I did, no matter how justified it was.
Alaric brings me a plate, and we eat on the couch in silence. It isn’t until I’m done with my food that the bottom of my foot aches. Lifting up my leg, I drape it over my knee to examine my foot. Blood has seeped through the sock right at my heel.
“Let me see.” Alaric sets his plate on the coffee table and grabs my ankle. He pulls my leg into his lap and carefully slips off the sock to examine my heel. “I don’t think anything is stuck in the wound. You probably just stepped on a rock. We’ll clean it out and wrap it up. You should be fine.”
“It didn’t even hurt until now.”
“Adrenaline numbs you up. If it hurts too bad, I can give you a painkiller.” He cradles my foot like it’s made of glass. My head spins with confusion. How can he be so sweet and caring one minute, and the next, he ties me to the bed while he goes off to kill people?
I don’t think I will ever be able to figure him out. But one thing is clear—getting away is looking more and more bleak.
11
Alaric
“This is really good,” Monroe tells me between bites. She cuts another large piece of steak and dips it in the creamy pepper sauce. “But I have to say, I’m surprised you let me have the steak knife.”
“I’m only worried about keeping heavy objects out of your reach.” The back of my head throbs at the reminder, and guilt briefly flashes over her face, but it disappears just as quickly. I’m actually not mad at her for trying to get away. Truth be told, I’m impressed she managed to get as far as she did. I’m only mad at myself for letting it happen in the first place. I won’t turn my back on her again.
“Trust me, little girl. I’m much faster and stronger than you. Not to mention, I was trained in hand-to-hand combat. It’s more likely that you hurt yourself with that than hurt me.”
She studies my face, and I can basically see the wheels turning. She is thinking about trying it, maybe even calling my bluff. I ready myself to fight off her attack, letting possible scenar
ios run through my mind. But then she simply shoves the steak into her mouth and chews slowly.
“Don’t worry, I won’t try anything…again. I would most likely only hurt myself.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I eagerly pull it out. Typing in the code, I unlock it and find the message I’ve been waiting for all day. It’s from Dr. Houseman, letting me know that Monroe's test results all came back normal.
A rush of excitement fills my veins, to the point of not being able to sit still. Just thinking about what I have planned for tonight has my cock straining against my zipper. I shift in my seat. I’m not used to feeling this way, feeling so exhilarated about anything.
Monroe must notice my mood change as well. “Is everything all right?”
I clear my throat. “Yes. I just forgot the wine.” Scooting my chair back, I get up and step into the kitchen. I stay on high alert while turning my back toward her. I won’t let her sneak up on me again, but I am worried about her accidentally cutting herself.
While listening to her carefully, I get the bottle of chilled wine out of the fridge and pour two glasses. When I put the corkscrew back into the drawer, I slide my hand under the drawer inserts and grab the small clear bag with the tip of my finger.
Quickly, I open it and pour the contents into the wineglass. It dissolves right away, making it impossible for her to see. Dropping the empty bag into the sink, I grab the glasses and spin back around.
Monroe hasn’t stopped eating and is almost done with everything on her plate. She was either very hungry or she really liked that food. No matter the reason, I’m glad she is eating. On an empty stomach, she would be more likely to get sick when she wakes up.
I hand her the glass of wine, and she takes it unsuspectingly. I watch her take a few sips while I sit down to finish my own food. By the time I’m done, Monroe has finished her wine, and I know it won’t be long before she feels its effects.
“Monroe,” I call her name, and her gaze lifts to mine. She tucks a strain of hair behind her ear, and I catch her hand trembling. She’s smart and has good instincts. Her gut is telling her that this situation is off.
“Something is wrong,” she states.
“I want to fuck you, Monroe,” I admit. “But I have a certain way I want it to happen, a kink of mine I want to play out… I want you to be asleep.”
Her eyebrows furrow together. She doesn't understand what I’m saying, or maybe she just doesn’t want to.
“What do you mean…?” She trails off, the last word a little slurred.
I can see the exact moment she realizes what is going on. Her eyes go wide, and her lips part with an intake of a quick breath.
“You…” She can only get that one word out, but that’s all she needs. That one word holds enough accusation, disappointment, and hatred for an entire speech. Regret trickles into my mind, but it’s minuscule and quickly overwritten by the unbridled lust I’m feeling.
Monroe pushes up to her feet. The chair skates over the floor before falling over and hitting the tile floor with a loud crash. I get up just as quickly, knowing it won’t be long before her legs give out.
I reach for her, but she frantically tries to get away, shoving against my chest. Her beautiful face is distorted with anguish, and I wish I hadn’t told her anything yet. I should’ve waited a few more minutes.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assure her. “I won’t hurt you, doll.”
She sways to the side, suddenly reaching for me instead of pushing me away. I pull her closer as her knees give out, and she falls into my arms. I pick her up and carry her to the bedroom.
By the time I place her on the mattress, she’s completely out of it. Her eyes are closed, and her hair falls into a blond halo around her head. She is so fucking beautiful. An angel I don't deserve… but I will have her anyway.
I undo my zipper and pull down my pants, needing to free my cock. It juts out like an iron pole. I don’t think I've ever been this hard. This is my absolute fantasy, my deepest and darkest desire played out.
Yes, I’ve done this before, but it was different. The women I’ve done this with before knew what I was going to do. Monroe had no idea what was coming, and that part is a huge turn-on. But most importantly, the others weren’t Monroe. They weren't as innocent and perfect as she is. No one measures up to her.
I strip out of the rest of my clothes until I’m completely bare. Then I start peeling Monroe’s clothes from her sleeping form. I unwrap her like a present on Christmas morning. With every inch of skin I reveal, my excitement grows.
When she is completely naked, I grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand and pop the top open. I pour a healthy amount into my hand and put the bottle back. I coat my cock with it first, hissing at the cold liquid, then I use the remainder to rub it on her pussy.
I dipped my finger into her cunt, and it slides in with ease. She’s tight, and she’s going to feel so fucking good. I’m not small, and usually, I’d take longer to get her ready, but I can’t wait another second without bursting at the seams. I’ve got to have her, and it needs to be now.
Positioning her sleeping form on the bed, I climb between her legs and line myself up with her opening. I wanted to go slow, I really did, but as soon as the head of my cock dips into her tight cunt, my brain shuts off.
With one hard thrust, I bury myself deep inside her warm channel. I never felt anything so good. It’s like she was made for me. Her pussy grabs me, squeezing my dick so tightly it almost hurts.
I look down at her relaxed face and cradle her cheek as I fuck her gently for a moment. “My peaceful little angel. Sleeping while I fuck her cunt, while I dirty her up and make her mine.”
Mine. The word runs through my mind on repeat.
Leaning down, I bury my face in the crook of her neck and start pounding into her without restraint.
It doesn’t take me long to come with a roar. My balls tighten before emptying every last drop of cum into her waiting pussy.
Minutes pass before the haze of lust is lifted from my mind, and I’m able to think somewhat straight, but it isn’t until I sit up to look at her that I realize something’s wrong. My cock is coated in blood. More of it is smeared over her thighs and between her legs.
Fuck. What did I just do?
12
Monroe
I wake up oddly warm, a kind of warmth I haven't felt… well, ever. I try to blink my eyes open, but it feels like they are weighted, just like my limbs, which are hugged to my body tightly.
Trapped between sleep and wakefulness, I stay in limbo for what feels like a long time. Luckily, it’s not such a bad place to be. I feel comfortable, content, and most surprisingly, safe.
My body and mind slowly come back to life. With each passing second, the fog surrounding my brain is getting thinner, and the feeling in my toes and fingers returns, letting me wiggle them awake.
When I’m able to move my arms again, I try to push the blanket tucked around me off, but it won’t move an inch. As a matter of fact, it feels like it’s only getting snugger.
“Shh… it’s okay…” a deep voice rumbles close to my ear. It sounds like someone is whispering, but the sound is loud and vibrates through my body.
It takes me another few minutes to understand where I am and what is happening.
Dinner.
Alaric.
Drugs.
He fucking drugged me.
“It’s okay,” he repeats, and all I want to do is yell at him. It’s not okay. Nothing is okay.
I force my eyes open, and they obey reluctantly. The room is dark. The only light illuminating some of the space is that coming from the cracked bathroom door.
Like a child, I’m swaddled into a blanket, two strong arms holding me in place against a firm chest.
As feeling returns to every part of my body, the dull ache between my legs becomes apparent. Oh god. He had sex with me while I was passed out. Tears sting my eyes as the realization of what he took from me s
ets in. He took my virginity while I was drugged and unresponsive.
A sense of loss hits me first, like he took part of me I will never get back. A part that I wasn’t quite ready to give. On top of that, he robbed me of the experience. A rite of passage I will never go through now. I feel cheated and violated at the same time. It doesn't quite make sense. Shouldn’t I be glad that I was passed out for this? Maybe this is the drug talking.
Anger washes over me next, like a tidal wave of fury, and I want to lash out, scream, kick, and break something, but all I can do is lie here.
My ear is pressed against his warm chest, which now explains why the whisper seemed so loud. The low thud of his heartbeat echoes in my head, and again, I feel oddly comforted when I partly know I should be anything but.
I’m being tugged in two directions. One is telling me to get away, and the other is urging me to get closer. The self-preservation part ends up winning the tug of war.
“Let go of me,” I croak, barely recognizing my own voice. I squirm, hoping he would let me go, but his arms only tighten to the point of making it hard to breathe. “Stop!”
He loosens his hold, but only enough for me to tilt my head and look at his shadowed face. My anger reaches a new boiling point when I see him glaring down at me like I’m the one who did something wrong.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin? I specifically asked you, and you lied to me.”
“Are you making this my fault, you prick?”
His features soften a smidge. “I thought you were a…”
“A whore?” My voice is tinged with bitterness. “No. I don't do that stuff for money. I only did it for you.”
“Why?” he demands.
“Because…” I chew at my bottom lip. “I don't know. The money.”
“I'm sure others have offered you money, too. You like me. Admit it.”
“No,” I hiss. Hot tears spring to my eyes again, and I curse softly. “I can't even wipe my tears. I fucking hate you.” And I do hate him, yet I rub my face against his bare chest, using him to soothe me.
