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Chapter 11
“I’ve waited for this for so long,” Ingram says as he takes off his shirt, revealing his rock-hard chest. It’s a sight I’ve longed to see again.
“Me too,” I reply, biting my lip. I never even so much as thought of another man.
He climbs into bed with me and grabs my top in his big, powerful hands. With one pull he tears the fabric apart, exposing my breasts. My nipples stiffen, aching for his mouth to take them. I want him to take all of me. I’ve craved him every moment we’ve been apart. He’s my real tormentor, as missing him has been more painful than anything Anton could do to me.
“You don’t have to think about him anymore,” Ingram whispers in my ear. He’s on top of me now, his arms pinning mine to the bed. Dominated by his strength, my body quivers.
“I’m ready,” I say.
He kisses me, tasting of blood and smoke. It’s wrong, but I can’t get enough of it. I breathe it in, filling my lungs. Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I don’t care.
When he thrusts his cock into my eager pussy, I groan in relief. His cock’s as hard and as big as I remember. I’ve thought of it so many times, desperate to feel it within me again. Now it fills me, eliciting sweet bliss. Ingram sucks my nipple between his lips as he drives his rod in and out.
Toes curling, eyes rolling up in my head, I spread my legs as wide as I can, encouraging him to pound me fast and deep. He huffs like a bull, teeth bared. I can hear his heart thumping. He wants more as much as I do.
“Soon we’ll be together forever,” he says.
“Yes… please.”
That’s all I want. No Masters, no Anton, no LPN, no death or carnage or chaos — just Ingram and I, somewhere far away.
His fingers stroke my clit, unleashing my ecstasy. I tremble in his grasp, letting the waves of pleasure lift me closer to my long-awaited climax.
“Just a little longer,” I moan. “I’m… almost…”
“Soon.”
—
My eyes snap open. I’m in a cage in the harem, fingers between my thighs.
Fuck.
I pull my hand back slowly. If the guards have been watching, I’d rather not give them a laugh at my expense. Shutting my eyes once more, I turn over and hide my face from the cameras.
Though it was a pleasant dream, I didn’t want to do this while under Anton’s imprisonment. I didn’t want to give in to my need, even subconsciously. I suppose it couldn’t be helped. Now that I know Ingram is alive and will rescue me soon, my body recognizes that relief is coming… both mental and physical.
Did Anton think that someday I would turn to him for pleasure? Did he see me as so weak that I’d cave to my body’s carnal hunger and beg him to satisfy me? It wouldn’t come as a surprise. If Anton could claim Ingram’s woman as his own — of her own free will — that would have been a true victory for him.
I am positive it’s what he wanted — my submission. If he wished, he could have forced himself on me at any time. What could I have done to fight back? But he didn’t want to take what could be easily taken — he aimed to win one final victory over Ingram. My triumph was in ensuring it didn’t happen — I would rather never feel that sweet euphoria ever again than have Anton be a part of it. Now I don’t have to worry — I’ll be Ingram’s again soon.
—
To my relief, Anton has me brought back to Manhattan early in the day. If they want me to reach out to Anarchy, Inc., I can’t do it from the Enclave; I’ll need to be on the air with LPN. While I could theoretically broadcast remotely, Anton decides — and I agree — I need to show strength and fearlessness by returning to the city.
We land at a private airstrip; Anton has guards work as photographers, filming and shooting my return to New York so it can be posted all over the Internet.
Kate Atwood isn’t afraid of Anarchy, reads one headline.
Atwood returns but declines press requests, reads another.
For once, I get to see them for myself. Nick brings newspaper clippings and website printouts to my prison cell, and pumps key videos through the television on the ceiling. This isn’t like any of my usual broadcasts, where I can say just about whatever Anton decides. For my return, and to draw out Death, the message has to be delivered just right. We take a few days to weigh our strategy. Under the circumstances, it makes sense for me to take some time off anyway.
The first time I return to LPN I put on a bullet-proof jacket before we get out of the limo, though it’s more for the inevitable photo op than my protection. My producer, Stephanie, is waiting with my new guard detail, a full squadron that marches in rhythm like a platoon. Together, they see me to the recording studio.
“You’re all people are talking about,” Stephanie says.
