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My hips slammed forward again and again, each thrust of the dildo like a step up a mountain. The cresting feeling grew bigger and bigger with every movement until my eyes rolled back in my head and my jaw opened. I continued to gasp for breath. I was close. So close. I needed something else.
Falling back on the bed, I pulled it out and circled my clit with the vibrating head. Sliding two fingers from my free hand inside, I thrust them in and out while the dildo pulsed against me. Within seconds, my mind knew nothing but the pleasure that was about to explode within me. Once more, I visualized myself clamping the blades together and the burst of blood. The orgasm crashed over me. I collapsed face forward onto the bed, the vibrator still pressed hard against my clit. My legs quivered as wave after wave of pleasure crested and fell through me, sending warm ecstasy across my body.
Unable to take any more, I pulled the vibrator away and tossed it aside. For the next several seconds, I lay there, enjoying the aftereffects of my inner walls clenching and unclenching. Every muscle in my body fully relaxed for the first time in forever. I couldn’t even remember the last orgasm I’d had. It certainly hadn’t been with Carlos. He’d been lucky to pass sixty seconds before he finished.
I managed to pull my pants back up but continued to lie on the bed. Soon, the pleasure I’d just experienced gave way to the fear again. I was still stuck in this weird prison. I had no way of escaping. The man holding me knew deep dark secrets about me that almost no one else knew. Who was he? Feeling self-conscious, I curled up on the mattress and closed my eyes. It hadn’t even been eight hours since I found myself in this place, but I was already exhausted. I’d use the rest of my two hours to sleep.
Chapter 8
Bong. My eyes snapped open. The chime had ripped me from a dreamless sleep. Thankfully, I wasn’t groggy. I had no delusions about where I was. The white walls and the soft bed reminded me that I was still a captive. The basket of gifts was still on the foot of my bed. I sighed and put it on the nightstand.
My door clicked, and I walked toward the opening. My cuff showed a message that said it was time for dinner. Since it was now my third trip, I was able to find the dining room on my own. As I neared it, Drake walked out of the room ahead of me. I caught his eye, and he nodded a greeting but said nothing. Instead, he headed straight for dinner.
Everyone was in better spirits than earlier in the day, with more smiles and easier conversation.
Erm, strange.
Liam limped toward the table with his leg heavily bandaged.
Even Elise gave me a perfunctory nod as I entered. The strange change in behaviors had me spooked. Did they know something I didn’t?
I was also a little terrified that my assault on Branson would still bring about some form of punishment. The message I’d received after made it seem like Sam was pleased, but I’d intentionally done more harm than I’d been ordered to do. Wasn’t that breaking the rules? Hadn’t Drake said I had to follow the rules no matter what?
My hands clamped together, anxiously twisting as I took my place at the table. I furrowed my brow at what looked like bottles of wine on the table: two white and two red. When the chime went off, we sat, and Jeffery pulled domes off dishes.
Oh, geez. One tray held perfectly cooked steaks, another held baked potatoes with various choices of fixings, and a third had roasted broccoli with some sort of sauce drizzled across it. Everyone scooped up servings while Drake pulled the corks from two of the wine bottles. It was so surreal that I sort of drifted through the motions of grabbing my own food.
Every clack of silverware made me want to jump. My paranoia was running into overdrive, fear of punishment a psychological lade hanging above me. Would Sam make Drake break my nose, or maybe Elise would stab me like she had Liam. I imagined Jeffery’s cuff vibrating and then he’d get up and wrap his hands around my throat, choking me until I blacked out. Each thought sent my heart rate a little higher.
“So, Dahlia,” Bri said. I forced myself not to flinch at her words. “Tell us a little about yourself.”
Thankfully, I’d been looking down at my steak when she asked. She couldn’t see my eyes bulge in shock. I didn’t, as a rule, share much about myself. It’d taken nearly three full sessions with my therapist for her to even start chipping away at the walls I’d built. In my experience, sharing usually meant giving someone else something they could use against me. Also, why the hell would any of them care? Didn’t we have more to worry about than hearing my tragic backstory?
Thinking quickly, I turned the tables and smiled. “Oh no, you guys go first.”
Bri shrugged, shoulder-length blonde hair moving with the motion. It looked like she once had a bob haircut that had grown out. “I’m Bri Gilmore. I work at an insurance company, basically a secretary. I got the job there about three years ago right after college. I live alone.” She hesitated and frowned. “Um, well I guess not totally alone. I have a cat named Boxer. Hopefully someone has noticed I’m missing and has fed him.” A look of worry shadowed her face for a moment, but she regained composure and looked down the table. “Elise? You wanna go next?”
Elise sighed but gave a shrug. She shoved a piece of steak into her mouth and spoke as she chewed. “Elise Lindon. I’m twenty-nine. Currently between jobs.”
Jeffery chuckled. “She’s a rich girl. Daddy pays for everything, so she doesn’t need a job.”
Elise didn’t look pissed like I would’ve imagined. Instead, she cocked an eyebrow and grinned at him. “Sucks to be jealous, Jeff. It’s not my fault my dad knows how to make money.”
“Fair enough,” Jeffery said and ate a bite of broccoli.
“How old are you?” Liam asked me, not looking up from his plate, but his gaze was on me anyway.
“Um, that’s not important—”
My cuff buzzed. I looked down with dread in my gut. Answer the questions.
Sam was listening. Of course.
“Well,” I added. “Not a big deal, but I’m twenty-four.”
The person I wanted to know about was Drake. I looked at him. “What about you, Drake? What’s the story?”
“Yeah, Drake,” Bri said hungrily. “Spill.”
