Stalking Amber

WARNING: Features kidnapping, coercion, imprisonment and romanticised forced sex and may be triggering. Features HEA. Suitable for non-con fans. Mainstream readers can skip to chapter 5 or avoid completely.

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Amber finished locking up and tightly wrapped her cloak about her as she stepped out into the cold night. She was irritated, it was the third time in a week she'd had to close shop because her manager, George, had developed a tendency to get drunk at lunch and stumble home to sleep it off.

Although George was a really nice guy and going through an ugly divorce, Amber was done covering for him - his recent behaviour was so out of character, he obviously had a problem. First thing in the morning, she'd confront him about it and demand he either get help or she'd report him to corporate.

The streets weren't empty, there were a few late-night shoppers scurrying home with their groceries, rugged up with eyes downcast to fend off the bitter wind. Amber's coat wasn't nearly warm enough to block out the chill, she hadn't banked on working late again. The coat was a lovely beige, velvet-soft material, pleasant on her skin, if not warming. Though not practical for the current weather, it did give her small frame a charming appearance.

It seemed to match nicely with her naturally ash-blond hair, and flatteringly contrasted with the crystal blue colour of her eyes. Her classically-shaped lips were currently pursed together from both her foul mood and discomfort, giving her a pouting school-girl expression. In her hurry and frustration, she walked briskly, and didn't take notice of the tall man who had been loitering outside her work, who was now confidently striding along in her wake.

As she reached her car, her breath left her in a surprised huff as a large form suddenly pressed up behind her, pinning her to the vehicle.

"Don't scream," a deep voice murmured into her ear. "Give me your keys."

Amber grit her teeth. Fucking fantastic. On top of everything, she was about to have her car stolen. Fumbling around her coat, she handed them over her shoulder, a little scared to look back at her attacker.

"Now, get in the car," the voice ordered, and at this demand ribbons of fear began to twirl in her stomach.

"O-oh, but-" Amber protested, turning her head to the side, not sure what to say, only knowing she didn't want to get into the car with this man. The car's glass and metal against her chest felt awfully chilly, and in contrast his body behind her was unusually warming.

"It's not an option," he cut her off, and Amber felt a large hand slide up her back and grip her shoulder. "I'm not going to leave you here in the cold, I'll take you home."

"Uhhh..." Amber trailed off nervously, uncomfortable with the way his hand began to move on her shoulder, thumb gently massaging her.

Was he a modern-day Robbin Hood? Would he really take her home? Though he'd told her it wasn't an option. Wide blue eyes darting left and right, Amber realised the wind might mute her cry for help. And perhaps the man would snap her neck for it. She felt his strength against her, easily holding her immobile without an effort.

The hand on her shoulder suddenly spun her around to face him, and she gaped up into his handsome face. Chestnut brown hair curled rakishly across his forehead, and his eyes were a darker, more concentrated blue than hers. The ends of his lips were curled upwards with humour as he took in her startled expression. Smiling smugly, he parted the front of his black coat and fear flashed up her spine as she saw the long knife under his belt.

"We're being watched," he said pleasantly, "so you'd better kiss me, and make it convincing. Just pretend I'm your boyfriend and pulled a lover's prank."

Amber's heart both leapt and sank - someone had seen she was in trouble, but she had to convince them she was fine. Thinking about the knife, Amber smiled tremulously at the man and tentatively reached up to put her arms about his neck as he bent forward, one large arm circling her waist and pulling her body firmly against his.

His other hand moved up between them to tenderly cup her face and tilt it upwards. Pressing his warm mouth to hers, his lips were soft and gentle, and slowly they parted and she followed his lead, sharply inhaling into his mouth as she felt his erection press into her stomach. After about ten slow seconds, he pulled back and grinned down at her.

"I think they're convinced," he said, peering cheekily to the side where a group of three had changed direction and were retreating towards the shopping centre.

"Please," Amber breathed, feeling weak in his embrace, not sure whether her cheeks were flushed from the cold or her unexpected intimacy with a complete stranger. "I don't need a ride home. I have more shopping to do. Take the car."

She winced as he answered her plea with a chuckle.

"Get in the car," he repeated, and though his smile was affectionate, there was a steely glint in his blue eyes that discouraged argument.

After feeling his erection, Amber knew he wasn't only interested in seeing her safely home. She told herself not to worry, when they got to her apartment her boyfriend, Fred, would beat the crap out of him. Somewhat cheered by this possibility, Amber meekly allowed him to escort her to the passenger side. Before he closed the door, he straightened with a knowing smile.

"If you run as I'm getting into the driver's seat," he told her, "you'll discover I'm something of a track star. You'll also discover what painful regret feels like." And on this threat, he firmly shut the door on her gorgeous shocked face.

On the drive he didn't say a word, and Amber discreetly peeked at him now and then to try and figure him out. He didn't seem like an uncivilised criminal. Thoughtfully drumming his fingers along the steering wheel, he appeared to be casually pleased with himself and completely at ease despite the carjacking, like they were a happily married couple driving home after a romantic dinner. As the car pulled to the curb, Amber jumped in her seat as she looked out the window, realising he never asked her for directions, and she had no idea where they were.

"You- you said-" she began uneasily.

Cutting the engine and taking out the key, he looked at her for the first time since they got into the car. Amber felt her heart stop as she heard his next words.

"I said I'd take you home," he confirmed, as though stating a simple truth, "and I have. My home."

"I-I-I-" Amber stuttered, sounding as foolish as she felt.

"Yes?" he answered, and again the teasing smile curved his lips. In the next second he was out the door and rounding the car to her side.

"Oh, no! NO!" Amber cried out, and before she could scramble across to the drivers seat, two hands firmly seized her hips and dragged her backwards out of the car as though she was a mere doll. Her scream was cut off as one hand clapped over her mouth and the other circled her waist, lifting her.

She felt like a child being taken away during a tantrum as she wriggled in his hold, kicking her legs out and squealing against his hand while he steadily carried her up the steps of a large, dark house. Hearing his deep chuckle aggravated her. The bastard wasn't breaking a sweat, and the icing on the cake was that he found her efforts funny.

Setting her down in front of him, his large hand on her mouth firmly held her head back against his chest, and she writhed, kicking against the door, tugging at his hand with both of hers. His other hand efficiently located his keys, opened the front door, and using the force of his body behind her, marched her forward into the house's darkness.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he sped things up by carrying her along a high-ceilinged dark hallway. When he released her, she spun out of his embrace and landed on the floor, blinking around her as he turned on the lights and leaned his tall frame against the doorway. Large arms crossed, he watched her with amusement.

Looking about her, Amber's fears were confirmed. There was no way he needed her car. The house was large and expensively decorated. Currently in the kitchen, the mint green, marble floor she sat upon looked clean enough to eat off, and shiny enough to see her reflection. As she gazed around in awe of her new surroundings, she almost forgot his presence, and her light eyes fearfully flickered up to meet his blue ones, quietly observing her.

"You can't do this," Amber argued weakly. "This is kidnapping. I want to leave."

The man shrugged his broad shoulders dismissively, still watching her.

"What- what are you going to do to me?" Amber stammered, wanting to know but at the same time dreading the answer.

In response, he shifted against the doorway, his smile grew wider and his navy-blue eyes seemed to glow wickedly.

Amber realised her compliance on the drive over was a huge mistake, she'd taken an incredibly stupid gamble and was now paying the stakes. She nervously picked herself off the floor, careful not to give him a view up her black knee-length skirt as she did so.

She gestured to him weakly. "Please move, so I can get past."

"You should understand something, Amber," he told her firmly, and she gasped at the use of her name. "You won't be leaving this house."

"H-how do you know my name?" she trembled.

"I know a lot of things about you," he breathed, shedding his coat and stepping toward her. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt, which showed the best of his thick, muscled arms and wide chest. He also wore sky-blue trousers which clearly weren't designed to conceal hard-ons. Glancing down at his discarded coat, he pulled the knife from his waistband and dropped it on top.

"Oh God, are you some kind of stalker, or what?" Amber exclaimed in fright, stepping back as soon as she saw the knife. "Don't- don't touch me!"

"Don't touch you?!" he repeated, amazed by her naivety. Reaching forward, he grabbed her beige coat and peeled it over her shoulders, and in trying to avoid his touch she hastily twisted out of it, leaving her in a silk navy singlet and black skirt.

"I have a boyfriend, and he'll make you pay for this," she threatened shakily, tripping back from him and placing both palms against the smooth, white wall behind her, feeling its coolness against her bare arms.

Looking around, it was actually a very large kitchen, the size that would cater well for big family gatherings. It was also very tidy, and there was nothing left out on the clean, bare counters. No frying pan, no knife-block. Amber doubted he'd give her time to rummage through his cupboards in search of a weapon. The man dropped her beige coat on top of his black one and put his hands on his hips. In response to her threat, his eyebrows shot upwards with exaggerated fear.

"Oh, dear," he replied, with comically feigned surprise, "I didn't think of that. Remind me to be ready for Fred, if he ever figures out where you are." He ended the sentence with a laugh, and Amber's chest seized up with fear. How did he know her boyfriend's name?

"Are you hungry?" he asked, tilting his head at her.

Amber shook her head. "Who are you? Why am I here?"

"I'm Brad. And you're here to be with me," he confirmed simply.

"But I don't want to be here!" she argued, raking an unsteady hand through her blond locks, and despite her fear a heavy frown darkened her fine brow.

"Well..." Brad replied, shrugging his broad shoulders, "that's too bad." Looking into her face, he straightened up and his expression changed. His breathing quickened as his blue eyes drifted over her pretty face to rest on her full, pink mouth.

"Actually, I am...I am hungry," Amber stammered lamely, noticing the way he was looking at her.

"I think you're lying," Brad grinned, walking up to her until she was pinned between him and the wall, one large hand positioned on either side of her. "I think you're stalling."

"No," she lied, turning her face to the side as he pressed forward, reaching up to brush away strands of her soft blonde hair and lowering his head to kiss her temple. "I'm hungry, I really am!" she insisted shrilly, feebly pushing against his wide chest.

"Sure you are," he chuckled, and she squealed as he suddenly gripped her hips and lifted her up and over his shoulder.

"Brad, stop! Please!" she shrieked, struggling as he carried her into the next room, hit the lights, and began to walk up a wide, curved staircase. He didn't answer, he just continued to the top of the navy-carpeted steps, following onto a grey corridor lined with old paintings. The second floor of the house seemed to be illuminated by moonlight shining through a number of tall glass windows. Casually strolling along, he didn't rush as she screamed over his shoulder, calling him every creative insult she could think of.

"My, my," he commented jovially, and one hand slid from her hip to curve over a perfectly rounded buttock, while the other held her legs down as she tried to kick, "you're a lot more fun than I expected."

Quickly becoming tired from her efforts, Amber pleaded with him. "Please, Brad," she begged breathlessly, as they entered a large bedroom with ocean-blue walls, in the centre of which stood a king-size bed with thick, mahogany posts. "Please, set me down. Let's talk."

"Ok," Brad replied, tossing her onto the bed. Before she could scramble up, he was upon her, and he easily caught her hands and tied each wrist to a black silk scarf, conveniently attached to the bedposts. Arms spread wide, she began to cry, angrily kicking at him as he trapped one leg at a time, securing her ankles to scarves tied to the lower posts.

Now, she was helpless, spread-eagled on his bed, her gorgeous features sensually illuminated by moonlight. Brad's eyes greedily ran over her soft, flawless skin, blond locks splayed across his pillow, wide pastel-blue eyes blinking at him, lips the colour of fresh raspberries parted as she panted. She looked like a fallen angel who had wandered into a devil's trap. Every delicious inch of her completely at his mercy.

"Oh God, oh God, oh no!" Amber blubbered, straining against the silk as he removed her shoes and sat back on his heels to watch her.

"You look great," Brad said encouragingly, "just as I imagined." His large chest broadly expanded as he watched her writhe sexily on the bed. He couldn't count how many times he'd masturbated imagining this scenario.

"At least tell me why!" she cried desperately. "Why me?"

Brad's handsome face was temporarily serious as he thought about it. "I don't know," he said honestly, "I just know how I feel. How I felt when I walked into your shop a few months ago." His face tightened with anger. "How I felt when I saw you with your boyfriend, treating him like he's God's gift to women, when you could be with me instead."

"Please, but I love Fred," Amber sobbed, tears running down her face, petrified that Brad might be a psycho-killer and she'd never see Fred again, never tell him one last time that she loves him.

"You don't say that in front of me!" he shouted, angrily slamming his fist against the bedpost. He crawled forward on top of her until his face hovered above hers, cupping her tearful cheeks with both hands as she tried to control her panicked breathing.

"You can never talk about him, never," he whispered, sliding his hands down over her slim neck to seize her breasts through her singlet, making her whimper. Again hypnotised by her mouth, with a helpless groan he kissed her, a hand sliding over her face to force her lips open, darting his tongue into her mouth while she moaned her reluctance.

She arched her back to escape from his kiss, but it only spurred him on as her pert breasts pressed against his chest, and he reached one hand down to roll a nipple between his fingers though the silk, feeling it harden to his touch. Brad was panting now, his movements becoming frenzied in his excitement as he at last indulged in what he had fantasised about thousands of times.

"No...no!" she whispered against his mouth, feeling his hands slide down her legs and up her toned thighs, bunching her skirt up around her waist, fingers dancing along the crotch of her purple lace panties between her spread legs.

"A skirt in this climate? Interesting choice," Brad mocked her, shaking his head. Feeling her body tremble beneath him, he cupped her pussy as though to comfort her. Panicking, she bucked against his hand, trying to shift it.

"Shhhh, don't be afraid," he hushed her, his lips moving across her cheeks as he deftly pulled her underwear to the side and gently brushed her pussy lips with this thumb.

"Oh! No! No!" Amber gasped, her eyes widening and she jolted against him in outrage as he touched her intimately.

"Yes, Amber, yes! It feels so good to touch you, baby," he moaned, tugging her earlobe with his teeth, probing around her entrance with his fingers, slightly dipping one inside, loving how her legs tensed and her ankles tugged against the silk restraints. He took his hand from her pussy to smell and lick his fingers as she stared up at him, horrified.

"You're sick!" she breathed, her eyes glinting at him indignantly, like pale atlantic ice.

"Yes," he sighed, "I'm sick. Love-sick." Again his hand found its way between her legs, this time sliding an entire finger inside her, and she groaned in frustration as she felt a thrill shoot up her spine. "You're tight," he grinned with delight. "You're going to love being stretched by me."

"Oh, my God, No!" Amber shook her head frantically, trying to separate her mind from her body as he slowly finger-fucked her. "Please don't, Brad. Don't rape me! I have a boyfriend! Please! Listen to me!"

"I am," Brad murmured, "I'm listening to your body. You should too." His hand left her pussy and moved up to trace her mouth with his fingers, glistening with her juices. Her dark lashes fanned her cheeks as she quickly shut her eyes and turned away in disgust, firmly pouting her lips closed, but his hand chased her, forcing his fingers into her mouth and over her tongue.

"Here you go, here's proof. Angel juice. This is all you, baby," he told her. "Ouch!" Brad snapped, quickly withdrawing his hand when she bit down on his fingers. Amber found the look of offended surprise on his face extremely insulting. What the fuck did he expect? That she'd thank him?

"Yes, it's all me, you shit-head," she snarled, glaring at him, feeling helpless and humiliated, angered by the realisation that he wasn't going to listen to her, and she couldn't stop him. "And it's because I'm thinking of Fred!" she shouted. "I'm wet for Fred, not you, you pathetic loser!"

Seeing his fists clench, Amber knew she'd gotten to him as the smug desire faded from his eyes, replaced with a hardness that frightened her. Fixing his stormy blue eyes on her face, she wondered if he was going to hit her.

Brad took a slow, deep breath, controlling his temper. "You'll learn," he said coldly. "I'll be as patient as I can, but you're going to learn. And you're going to eat your words. Over, and over again," he promised, backing away from her off the bed. He left the room, and Amber glanced about her, looking for a way to escape, trying to wriggle her skirt down from around her waist.

Finally giving up, Amber's head hit the pillow as she sharply exhaled her frustration. A number of minutes slowly ticked by as she waited for Brad to come back. The seconds literally ticked, as a large, brown ornate grandfather clock announced them with a click that echoed throughout the silent room, driving her a little crazy. Amber thought about her situation, wondered how long it would take Fred to figure out something was wrong.

Hopefully he'd wait up for her, but he had an early start the next day. With the way things were at his firm, he probably collapsed into bed as soon as he got home. Her phone was being repaired and he knew she was working late, so on the small chance he realised something was up, he'd probably check her work first, then he'd go to the police. The question was how long it would all take.