Notes from the author:
Hello all! To those of you who have gone out of your way to show support, I thank you so much! It has been a struggle in my first series, but I am determined to see it through to the end. As usual, this is the non con section, blah blah blah. This chapter contains knife play. If you are looking for a realistic story, read something else. The only realistic thing about my story is that it revolves around two people who are imperfect. This could serve as the final chapter, but I may consider extending it. We'll see what you have to say. ;) xoxo
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Chapter 9
The sun was pouring through the windows of the cabin when I awoke. It seemed close to ten. I looked over at the alarm clock, and confirmed. 10:19am. Oh shit! Michael. I had missed our breakfast date, again.
It was then that I realized that Joe was no longer in bed with me. I heard water running, and a soft cheerily whistled tune penetrating the wall. I would never have associated that happy peppy whistle with a sadistic asshole like Joe. He had terrorized me. Raped me. Cum inside me...
I frowned. It was hard to know what to make of Joe. When he was fucking me, he could control my mind and bend me to his dirty perverse whims. He could have anything he wanted from me, it seemed.
Technically, yes, I could run. I could fight him. I could rebel and tell him to fuck himself. But God help me, I just wanted to succumb. My body wanted him.
Joe's dominance and forcefulness was what I had always craved, although the reality was not exactly as I imagined. It was...more intense. One moment he would be degrading me...mocking me. The next he would be praising me and stroking me with the tenderness of a lover. It kept me off balance, and all the more vulnerable. He was an expert manipulator--at least in bed.
Could Joe truly see my desires? Or was he just an asshole who lucked out? He accused me time and again of "wanting it", and he was right. He was so right.
Still, I was not prepared just yet to become a mindless ball of mush. Joe was wearing me down, but sleep, and distance, had a way of restoring my confidence. Maybe I could slip out while he was in the shower. I would need to be quick.
I looked around for my dress, finding it crumpled underneath the bed. Thank goodness I had taken it off last night, before Joe tore it to shreds. Rather, before he cut it to shreds with his knife. Oh. That knife. I recalled the feel of the blade running softly across my skin. It was terrifying and amazingly erotic, just like Joe. Once again, I was trembling, anticipating Joe exiting the shower at the most inopportune moment. I slid my shoes on quickly, and grabbed my purse.
As I hurried to the door, I noticed how much lighter my purse felt. With a feeling of dread deep in the pit of my stomach, I peered into my purse. I found my lipstick, deodorant, toothbrush and travel size toothpaste. No wallet, no phone, no room key. With a frustrated sigh, I plopped myself down on the foot of the bed.
Of course. Of course he would take my stuff. Make it as difficult as possible for me to leave him, short of tying me to the bed. He wasn't an idiot. A sadistic bastard, yes, but an idiot, no. I was pissed. And suddenly, I heard the shower turn off.
A chill ran through me. Part of me wanted to strip and pretend to be asleep. He would be none the wiser. But the stubborn mule in me was royally pissed, and wanted to make sure Joe knew it. Fuck him. I wanted to leave. So what? I was completely within my rights. Not that rights meant anything to Joe.
Light flooded the hallway as the bathroom door opened, and I steeled myself for what was to come.
---
It's strange. Opening my eyes this morning to see her darling face, so pure in sleep, had me filled with this...warm sensation. It was a mixture of affection, possessiveness, pride, and a hint of fear. I had felt the occasional post-coital tenderness in the past, but never fear. What did I have to fear? She was mine.
Could it be that despite all my efforts to claim her, I was terrified that she would still get away? That she wanted to get away? I had forced her to be mine...forced her to say things. The way she had screamed out my name had been immensely satisfying, even if she had been trying to slow me down.
My eyes closed again as I recalled her crying out, "Joe, please! It's too deep!" I could feel her struggling form against me still, her cunt clenching over my shaft as I pummeled her harder, stabbing at her cervix, intent on taking what was mine.
I knew that deep down she shared my desires. Or, did I desperately need to believe that?
Frowning at her, deep in her angelic slumber, I could think of only two things to do. I could fuck her again, wake her, only to pound her into oblivion. Or I could make preparations. There was much to do if I intended to keep her here.
Shifting very carefully from the bed, I heard her start to snore. It was a cute, dainty, girly type snore, and it made me laugh. Then the warmth. That damn warmth again in my gut. She turned to her back, exposing a plump soft breast to my appreciative gaze.
God how I wanted to climb back on the bed and suckle at that gorgeous tit. Some day soon, I would suck milk from her swollen breasts. Visions of her hands tangling in my hair as I feasted on her generous tits, hearing her cries and pleas as she squirmed beneath me... it had me salivating. My cock now painfully hard for her, I stalked away and grabbed my robe.
In the living area of my suite I found the phone, directory, and room service menu. Skimming through the menu, I realized that I had no idea what she would prefer. I decided to order everything, and let her choose when she awoke. I called and put in the order, requesting that everything be delivered in an hour. I then called the concierge and requested two extra sets of towels, and an afternoon room cleaning.
Shortly after phoning, there was a light knock at the door.
I answered the door, greeted by a young Latina who was delivering our towels.
"Buenos dias senorita," I greeted softly, offering her my most charming smile. She blushed, rather like Kate, which made me grin.
She seemed taken aback by my fluent Spanish. In my work, I found bilingual skills to be immensely helpful, not so much for speaking as for listening.
I took the towels, and asked if she would be so kind as to pick up a few things and bring them to the room. I handed her a list, and a stack of bills. She said not a word, but nodded.
With a seductive smile, I dismissed her. "Gracias mamas. Una hora, si?"
"Si senor," she whispered.
I shut the door, and went to check on Kate. She had kicked away some of the sheets. Seeing more of her creamy soft skin exposed, I knew I needed to turn around or I would surely pounce, putting a crimp in my plans. Hearing her light snore, I was convinced she was asleep, and headed to the shower.
I was sorely tempted to bring myself off. It was becoming a ritual. The warmth of the water massaging my skin had thoughts of Kate swarming through my mind. Thoughts of being immersed in her, making love to her. I had to fight the temptation, and save myself for Kate. Not a drop could be wasted outside of her. Finishing quickly, I dried off and wrapped a towel round my waist before emerging from the bath.
When I returned to the bedroom, I was surprised to find Kate sitting at the edge of the bed, clad in her red velvet dress from last night. She did not look happy. Rather, like she wanted to kill me.
God, I loved that look. That look of utter sass. The look that begged me to redden her ass until it matched her juicy cunt. By God, I would. I grinned smugly at the thought, taunting her with words unspoken. But she was not amused.
Suddenly it dawned on me that she was dressed to leave. She must have discovered that I'd taken her wallet, phone, and room key, or I doubted she would still be here. This was not totally surprising, but irritating nonetheless. I had hoped we were past this.
"So cunt," I drawled, my tone bordering on anger. "You were going somewhere?"
"Damn right," she spat. "Give me back my stuff and I will be on my way."
The abruptness of her response angered me. Glaring, I approached her. Seated on the bed as she was, she had nowhere to go. Nowhere to look, except up at me, or forward at my cock, which was creating an ever-widening tent in towel around my hips. I gazed down upon her with an unspoken promise of retribution. Her eyes went from indignant to unsure.
"You're not leaving," I said heatedly.
"What makes you so damned sure?" she responded, irritated.
"Because I know you. I know what you want. I know that you want me, and need what only I can offer. You need to be owned, dominated, forced. You need this, and I need all of you."
Her eyes widened and glazed over a bit. I could tell that I was affecting her. Calling her on her bluff of indifference. Then suddenly, she blinked, and the trance was broken.
"You're a creep! You don't know me! What makes you think you know me? Because I came? It means nothing!" she yelled.
"In some cases, yes, it means nothing," I admitted. "But I think you know that this is different."
Kate's eyes closed, and she shook her head. Her hands squeezed at the edge of the mattress. She was clearly conflicted.
We both flinched when there was a knock at the door.
I crouched down in front of her, took her face in my hands, and warned, "You will behave."
I saw despair and resignation in her eyes, and while I did not wish her unhappy, I did need her to stay put.
I caressed her cheek before throwing on my robe and answering the door.
"Good morning sir! We have your breakfast." Two young men in white brought in food trollies packed with was apparently the breakfast menu. It looked, and smelled, delicious.
Kate just sat frozen on the bed, probably embarrassed at the two extra men in the room who could not help but appreciate her loveliness. But they were professional and quick, trying to avert their eyes while they set out place settings on the small "dinner for two" dining table. I needed to send a thank you letter to whoever decided to incorporate a dining table into the suite. Most passengers probably didn't take their meals in room, but in our case, it would certainly prove useful.
"Muchos gracias, Carlos y...Jose," I thanked them, making sure to check their name-tags. "Hasta luego, mis amigos," I slipped them both a generous tip. I find it never hurts to start with an overly generous gratuity, and that rang particularly true today. We would be seeing them again.
Closing the door, I walked back to the bed, finding Kate with her head buried in her hands. Seeing her this way did something to me. I was frustrated that she was still resisting me. Based on her responsiveness last night, she clearly wanted me, but it was obviously bothering her still. Why wouldn't she just let go? Why wouldn't she just concede defeat, and let herself be pleasured? I would take care of her.
Perhaps that was it. I hadn't actually told her that I would take care of her. It was blatantly clear that I wanted her. That I wanted to push her to her limits and beyond. That I wanted to bind her to me in the most irreversible way. But never had I told her I would take care of her. Would it make any difference to her? Did she simply, genuinely, want to escape me? I couldn't blame her really, but I just couldn't bring myself to let go. I had to make her stay, make her want to stay.
Was this what they called love? Was I in love with Kate? It seemed way too fast to be love. Love was something that evolved from a normal mutual romantic relationship. Right?
The term "love" made me uncomfortable. It seemed so cheesy, so cliché, so...weak. I felt determination more than anything. The determination to conquer, and possess. I wanted to possess her. Unlike any of my previous conquests, I could not see myself ever tiring of Kate. Was that love? Or obsession? Was there a difference?
