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40
Annie
Ithought he couldn't hurt me that much in a hotel. I thought there were a limited amount of things he could do to me when there were more than a thousand people in the same structure we were in.
Clearly I hadn't been paying attention.
Before the fet had a chance to wear off he had me back in the hotel room, his bodyguards sent away, protesting because they thought someone should stay with him.
For his protection, of course. But I saw the way their eyes lingered on my skin. I wore a mini dress, tight across the hips and ass, and it was riding up now that Cole had thrown me to the bed. One of my stiletto sandals lay on the floor. The other was still strapped on. My hair had grown down to my collarbone and my curls were everywhere. I had to look like an ad for a semi-hardcore porno movie.
Cole didn't bother with their protestations of keeping him safe. He handed out stacks of money and told them to go get whatever their version of lucky was. As he closed the door behind them, I leapt from the bed and flew to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind me.
Pointless. Pointless! We were on the twenty-fifth floor of a posh hotel. What was I going to do, jump? But there was a phone in the bathroom, a luxury I couldn't quite wrap my mind around. For the executive too busy to take a dump without calling someone? Or so arrogant he figured even his bathroom time was valuable?
I could call for help. Cole would tell me no one would come, but he didn't control all of Metro PD, if he controlled any of it. Las Vegas police was beyond my jurisdiction and even if Cole lived in the county, it was beyond his control, too.
Only, then what? I had fet in my system. If Cole produced documents that said he was my guardian, my power of attorney designee, my keeper, my doctor, my fiancé, I had no recourse. I had opiates in my system and no prescription anywhere for their use.
And I was Seattle PD. Even on extended leave, even with Cole's influence, I'd be gone. My record would be such that I'd be lucky to find work as a security guard in McDonald's.
Did McDonald's even have security guards? Even in the very worst cities?
His voice on the other side of the door was calm. "You can come out on your own or I can come in there and bring you out and you will not like the consequences."
It's locked. It's locked, it's locked, it's locked.
As if I myself hadn't broken down a door or two in my time.
"You realize the lock on that door is only for privacy, don't you? It won't take me more than a minute. And we're too high for you to jump. Annie. Come out. Face the consequences."
He didn't say he'd go easy on me. He didn't say it was for my own good.
He didn't say he wouldn't hurt me.
He didn't say anything that would convince a sane person not to pick up the phone and call someone anyway. The Brotherhood. They had chapters in Nevada. I could call as the girl who was with Jesse at the time of his death and the soldiers of this chapter would come. All I'd have to do is tell them who had me and where and where he could probably be found if they didn't come in time and they'd come, probably in time.
Or my father. I could call my father. Short of admitting to murder, I could tell my father anything and he'd understand and he'd come save me. He knew the job. He knew the pressures. I didn't know for certain there hadn't been a time he hadn't supported his own habit.
But there'd be disappointment. Of course he wanted better for me.
And I knew he was proud of me and I couldn't give that up.
I wanted a time to come around again when I would be proud of me.
I opened the door and looked up into Cole's dark, furious eyes.
He threw me down on the bed and followed me. The dress pretty much shredded under his hands and under it I wore only garter belt and stockings. He tore the other stiletto off my food. They did make weapons.
He didn't speak. All the other times he'd taken me, he'd talked, either talking me through something that was pseudo-therapeutic or growling out what he meant to do and how I would feel and all the way along I never was afraid of permanent damage, only of the pain and suffering he could make me feel in the present.
He didn't talk. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back at the same time he straddled my hips and plunged into me, fucking me harder than Jesse had ever dreamed of, than Mark would even know was possible. When I grunted, sharp sounds of pain, with every thrust, he buried my face in the pillow.
It didn't last. He did but the fucking didn't. I was on the verge of something that felt like coming when he pulled out of me and moved to take hold of something behind me.
I didn't move. I didn't need him to tell me not to move. I only shifted enough to get full breaths around the cheap foam pillow the luxury hotel room provided.
Whatever it was he brought down on my ass, my hips, my lower back, my upper back, my legs, it stung like a motherfucker. It snapped against me and made virtually no sound coming down.
