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He rises above me, gripping a handful of my hair and dragging my head down to his cock. He pushes into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat until I gag. He does this several times, holding it at the back of my throat until I bang his thighs to release me.
Then he’s back between my legs, slamming into me wildly. My head is reeling from his pure instinctive need to fuck.
I know the second he comes because he stills, growling as he releases into me. “Lara,” he whispers into my hair, “I need you. I love you.”
I freeze, unsure of what to say. This seems to confuse him and he pulls back. “Lara?” he repeats. He reaches for the bedside light, and when he sees me, he frowns, lifting off me and looking down between us.
Then his face morphs into something I’ve not seen on him so far. He’s horrified. “Did we . . . did I . . . fuck.” He climbs off the bed and heads straight for the shower, not bothering to let it warm before he steps under the spray. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he yells.
I watch as he picks up his body wash and squeezes it into his hands, enough that it’s dripping over the edge and spilling out onto the shower floor. He lathers himself like he’s dirty, like I contaminated him.
I feel my heart crushing as I wrap the sheet around myself and curl into a ball. I know it’s what I needed to do, but now, I feel disgusting, unsure whether I used him or he used me.
The shower turns off and he wraps himself in a towel. “Get up,” he barks, and I immediately do it. The tone of his voice tells me he isn’t messing. “Follow me.” He leads me into the hallway and towards another room. He opens the door and nods for me to go inside. I do, and then he closes the door, locking it.
I take in the single bed. It’s a lot smaller than any of the other rooms I’ve seen so far, but at least it isn’t the basement.
Days pass and the only person I see is Maria. She brings me three meals a day and makes light conversation, but it doesn’t make me feel better. A part of me feels like a disgusting animal, taking what I wanted without any thought, and the other part of me is screaming, telling me to wake the fuck up. I’m here against my will. I didn’t ask for any of this, and, yes, maybe a sick part of me fancies my captor, but I’m pretty certain there’s a name for that.
I flop back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. The longer he stays away, the less chance I have of building on that connection. And until he trusts me enough to let me out of this room, I’ll never find a way to escape. So, when Maria returns with my evening meal, I ask, “Where is Ivan?”
“Do you need something? I can arrange for whatever it is.”
“I want to see him,” I say firmly.
“I can ask him to come up and see you, but he was clear I am to deal with the day-to-day things.”
“He’s avoiding me?”
She looks away, hesitating. “I’m not sure. He just told me to make sure you have what you need.”
“What I need is to get out of here. Tell him I want to see him right now.”
She disappears for a few minutes, and when she returns, she almost looks embarrassed. “He’s asked what you need.”
“The morning after pill,” I say bluntly, and her cheeks colour. “We had unprotected sex, and I need that pill. I’d also like a health check to make sure he’s not given me anything.” I’m already using birth control as I have the implant in my arm, but he doesn’t know that.
She gives a slight nod before disappearing for a second time. I’m halfway through my salad when the door opens and Ivan appears looking annoyed. I lean back casually and allow my eyes to run down his body. He’s in a suit, which isn’t new but this looks smarter than his day-to-day suits. “Is there a reason you’re embarrassing my staff?” he snaps, remaining in the doorway.
“We need to talk,” I say firmly.
“I’m entertaining. It’ll have to wait.”
“I could be pregnant,” I snap. “You haven’t even been to check on me since you dumped me in here. What exactly are you planning to do to me? Leave me here forever?”
“Grace, I am in no mood to discuss this right now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I stand, moving closer. “We’ll talk now,” I snap.
It’s a mistake because he grabs me by the throat and shoves me back, reminding me who has the power. I land on the bed, thankfully.
He leans over me, pointing a finger in my face. “You are not my wife. You’re not even a guest. I make the rules, and right now, we’re not going to discuss this. Do not make demands to see me and do not embarrass my staff with tales of your whore behaviour.” He straightens up and adjusts his shirt collar. “I’m busy. I will speak with you tomorrow.”
He leaves, and I fight back tears. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but I miss my freedom, even if that means living on the streets.
An hour passes before Maria returns. I wipe my eyes quickly, but she smiles sympathetically, showing she’s seen my puffy face and red eyes. She collects my half-eaten dinner. “How about a hot chocolate?” she offers, and I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have interrupted him. He left instructions to only go in there in an emergency,” she says. “I should have asked you to wait until he was free.”
“What’s so important anyway? He’s keeping me here and doesn’t have the decency to check in on me.”
