Page 12 of Not Another Dark Romance

I should be begging for my life right now. Probably. Crying, pleading, trying to appeal to his humanity to really play out the whole kidnapper script. But I’m still not convinced that everything I’ve wanted is really coming true like this. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought and I’m hallucinating. Maybe I’m in a coma somewhere, and I’m dreaming up the exact scenario that’s played out in my deepest, darkest fantasies.

He tilts his head the opposite direction, and I can easily picture him smiling behind the mask.

“You’re real,” I breathe, and I don’t know if I’m asking again or stating a fact.

But he finally responds, nodding twice.

My brain is trying to process the heightened emotions that are overwhelming me. He still hasn’t spoken, and the lack of words is making the tension grow palpably between us. He has to feel it if he’s gone through all this trouble to get me here.

My dick is getting harder by the second, and I shift in my seat to the best of my ability. He looks at my lap, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Does he like that I’m already so hard? Was he not expecting that? He’s so sexy, teasing me with his mask and abs. It’s not like I could hide it either; he’s restrained me. Probably with his missing shirt.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I admit, not hiding how much I’m enjoying this fucked-up scenario. “Have you read the book? Is that how you knew?”

He takes a slight step back, still not responding.

So mysterious.

I decide to elaborate for him, already very comfortable with one-sided conversations from all the ones I have between myself and Piet.

“How’d you know this was my fantasy?”

I can’t make out his expression behind the mask, but his throat bobs. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he finally asks, and chills overwhelm me as I confirm it’s the same voice from the restaurant. I knew it was Zane.

“You kidnapped me and tied me up in your basement. How’d you know this was one of my fantasies?”

There’s a long pause. Really long. Long enough that I start to wonder if he even heard me or if maybe I said the wrong thing. Should I be pretending I hate this? I’m all for a bit of role-play, but I assumed these situations would involve a bit of talking before diving in when we barely even know each other.

Actually, no, how could that possibly be the wrong thing to say in this situation? He tied me to a chair. He’s wearing a sexy murder mask with an unzipped hoodie and no shirt, totally showing off his abs and getting my dick hard.

We’re both clearly on the same page here.

“Your… fantasy?” he repeats, voice sounding strained. Confused, even.

I’m almost positive this isn’t normally how the whole role-play thing works, but I also stalked him and still ended up in this situation, so maybe he’s trying to flip the script. Make it unique.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “The whole kidnapping thing. You know, hitting me with your car, tying me to a chair in your basement, the sexy mask. You really pulled out all the stops here.”

He starts pacing around the basement. That’s not the reaction I was expecting either.

“I didn’t…” He stops, trailing off. “This isn’t… What the fuck?”

He scrubs a hand over his short hair, and I notice he’s not wearing gloves. He seems more stressed than I’d expect from him in this situation he set up for us. Maybe I’m breaking the script too much, or maybe he isn’t enjoying role-playing like he expected. Probably realizing now that talking this through would’ve been a better move than just doing it.

“Look,” I say gently, trying to be helpful without insulting him by pointing out that he seems nervous. “I know this is probably weird for you too. I mean, I’m guessing now that the moment is here, you’re worried I won’t actually be into this, right? But in case you’re worried about my reaction, I just want you to know… I’m okay with this. More than okay with it, actually.”

“You’re okay with being kidnapped?” His voice is flat and disbelieving. Well, shit, maybe I should’ve acted more scared. Seems like my eagerness really fucked up the whole vibe.

“Well, yeah. I mean, not in the general sense. If some random person kidnapped me and actually wanted to hurt me, then that would be terrifying, you know? But you’re not random, are you, Zane?”

He goes very still as he stares at me. “How do you know my name?”

What? He’s acting like I’m the one who hit him in the head. “From the restaurant? We did the whole flirty thing earlier, and I followed you to your truck, and you ran me over. Ow, by the way, but nice touch, really sold the setup.”

“I—” He starts but cuts himself off again. “You seriously think I kidnapped you because of some fucked-up fantasy I didn’t even know you had?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No! What the fuck?” he shouts. He seems angry, and not in a turned-on way.