by Karin, Anya
"But, he kissed my hand. He snuck back through my door and kissed my hand before he left. That's not the sort of thing a timid, frightened person does. Maybe he's...maybe he insists on the shadows and the hiding for other people's sakes?"
She strained her ears to make out voices. There were plenty of them talking, but she couldn't separate any one from the others. Northeast accents were the most prevalent, one in particular, harsh enough to have come from an even smaller place than Newtown. But then there were a couple of Southern accents as well dotting the cloud of noise that trickled in under her door.
"Which one are you? Where are you, Preston?"
With her mind running amok, and her imagination conjuring up all sorts of bizarre scenarios and personalities for this mysterious man, she wondered if the persona he put on when he visited her at home was just that – one of many put-ons. Just one act out of a play.
Alyssa missed the footsteps outside the door.
Two soft knocks broke the silence and pulled the gauze from Lys's consciousness. The music from downstairs and the perfume hanging in their air from where she'd sprayed some both became very clear, and sharp.
"Who – is someone out there?"
Another pair of knocks, a little louder, made her sit up in the bed as she forgot the rope around her wrists. A twist of the cord bit deep and Lys yelped, but then almost immediately felt a warm, wonderful sensation creep down her arms. Still, no one came in.
"Hello? Is someone out there? Don't be shy. Peter? Is that you, Peter?"
Her eyelashes fluttered against the blindfold and she managed to push herself up into a sitting position with one foot hanging off the side of the bed. The hinges groaned, and that incredibly long deadbolt pulled back again, sliding smooth against the wood and clicking into place when it was through.
"Hello? Preston? Is that you?"
No response. The only thing she heard, aside from the music which was by then much louder through the open door, was steady breathing. Not fast, not slow, and not noisy. Just nice, calm breathing that somehow even made Alyssa a little more relaxed.
A footstep neared her, then another. Anticipation squeezed Lys's stomach like a fist around her middle, but she stayed quiet. As she sat, trying to keep from falling to pieces, another footstep, muffled by the carpet that she knew was only a few feet wider than the feet of the bed, thumped.
Smile crawling across her lips for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, Alyssa opened her mouth and took, through nose and over tongue, a deep, slow breath.
Roses.
The scent was very faint, but it was unmistakable. An aroma very similar to that of the oil that Peter had marked Lys with filled her nose and crept down her throat. The only thing she could think to do was to ask again if Preston Webb was in the room, but she already knew the answer.
She wanted absolutely nothing more in the world than to see what this man looked like. But, as she sat there, listening to his calm, even breathing and his slow footsteps drawing nearer, she actually forgot about opening her eyes. She wanted to feel his touch.
"Is that-"
"Shh," he interrupted. "I don't like sounds. Not right now. I'm sorry for all this. Really, I am. But I can't untie you. I think Gadsen had something to do with this, and I can't let him know that I came to see you. I'll make him pay for doing this to you."
His voice was soft but powerful, a lot like the swatch tied around her eyes. There was strength behind his whispered words that made goose bumps wash down Alyssa's throat and pebbled the skin around her nipples that then brushed against the satin gown she'd been given. Something about the way he spoke made her relax.
And then, she felt a finger.
As music swelled from outside, or downstairs, or wherever it was, Preston Webb traced a line down the center of Alyssa's face with the barest touch of his fingertip. When he reached the tip of her nose, then the top of her lip, a sneeze scrunched her face, but a sniffle calmed it down.
Wordlessly, soundlessly, the finger made its way around her lips and then curled underneath Lys's chin before sliding down her throat to the gown's collar.
With a gentle gasp, Lys felt hot, like she always did when she was either in trouble or excited. She couldn't figure out which one, exactly, this was.
"It is you, isn't it?"
"Is this okay? Is it alright if I touch you? I've been thinking about nothing else since I saw you. You have the kindest voice I've ever heard. But now, look what's happened. I'm sorry Alyssa, I never meant for you to be hurt."
"Y-yes," she said, her voice trembling. "You can touch me. I've been thinking about it, too."
The fingertip moved along the dress's neckline, up to her shoulder and the behind Lys's ear, bringing a tingle with it.
"Did Peter hurt you?"
Alyssa lost herself in the slow, patient strokes of his fingertip, brushing her face.
"Alyssa? Please answer me."
"Oh, yes, yes, sorry," she said. "After the tussle in the forest, yeah, Peter was nice. And that brush on the table is beautiful."
"You used that?"
His voice was vacant of any suggestion as to whether that was good or bad. Lys tried to think of how to answer, but she couldn't come up with anything.
"I...well, yes. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to." She waited for a response, but then hurriedly added, "I – I wanted to look my best for you."
"Is that so? It's a nice thought anyway." That time, she detected a hint of disappointment in Preston's voice. He didn't sound young, but he didn't have the gravel that often comes with age, or at least not much of it.
The finger in her hair was joined with another that brushed through strands before running back down her jawline and then gently tugging her bottom lip away from the top.
"I
She wanted to tell him that no, she wasn't aware of that, but she appreciated the compliment, but at the same time, she didn't want to open her mouth again and interrupt whatever he was going to say.
"I'm a little disappointed that you used my brush without asking, but it makes sense. And thank you – it's an old one. My mother owned it, but I don't know where she got it from. I like the handle."
For a moment, silence hung between the two of them. There was a shared breath and then the fingertips moved from Lys's lips back to the collar and slid down her chest before he pulled away.
He sat beside her, the bed creaked. Preston's hands moved over her shoulders and closed on either side of her neck, fingers intertwined and thumbs brushing her cheeks.
Fingers squeezed her shoulders. Gently at first, then when she didn't calm down, harder, until she felt a deep ache where they punched her skin. Lys tried to twist away from him but that just made the ropes on her wrist burn into her flesh. A tingle crept from her hands up to her neck. She drew a sharp gasp that hurt at first, and then filled her with a wave of pleasure that burned all the way up the back of her head and then down, between her legs.
"If this is still okay," he said, letting his finger run along the neck of her dress, "lie back and let me try to make you comfortable. I don't know how long this is going to last, and I'm sorry for that." His voice was still soft, but something about the words he said made Alyssa uncomfortable.
"What do you mean, Preston?" She said.
"There are a lot of things out of my control. But I'm going to fix it. He's not going to win. I promise."
"What are you talking about?"
"Not now." He said, his voice changing.
She lay down. For the first time in her memory, probably in her whole life, Alyssa just did what she was instructed to do. No questions, no complaints or protests.
"Preston, that's..." Lys had to stop talking to draw a breath when his soft, but insistent fingers drew a curly line up her thighs on either side. "What are you doing? I've never..."
"Neither have I," he said. "But I can't stop thinking about you. I can't keep myself from wondering what you feel like. I can't stop myself from wanting..."
&nbs
p; A delicious thrill shot up Lys's thighs from where his fingertips burned against her. Hot little points of light, he began to tickle her leg and she tried vainly to protest, but as soon as his brushing fingers went past a spot a couple of inches above and inside her knee, she turned into a puddle.
"G-good," she moaned. "It feels good."
"How is it," he said as he slid his knuckle closer to her lower lips, "how is it that someone as smart, kind, and beautiful as you has never been with anyone before?"
"Shy, I guess, mmm... how did you know?"
"You told me, remember?" He growled. "If you keep turning your wrists like that, you'll get a rope burn. That's what you want, isn't it? How can someone so innocent like things so rough and tight?"
Opening her eyes against the blindfold, she suddenly had another desire to rub her head on something and push the cloth away. She just had to put a face with this wonderfully smooth, silky voice. When she tried to work it off, Preston put a single finger on her forehead.
"No, Alyssa, please," he said softly. "The rest of this might have come from someone else, but the blindfold was my idea.
"Such beautiful, soft skin," he whispered very close to her ear. His breath caressed Lys's throat, slid behind her head and tickled that little spot that sent chills down her back.
As Preston's lips touched her throat, Alyssa felt him trembling just a little.
"Are you okay?" She whispered.
"I'm a little nervous, but I can't decide if this is more nerves, or more me wanting you so badly that I can't really get over myself."
"I didn't expect you to say that."
"Why not?" Preston chuckled softly under his breath.
"Not sure," she whispered, "but if I could move my hands right now, I'd use them to put yours back on my legs and make you run your fingers all the way up to my hips.
Preston Webb chuckled softly under his breath and climbed up beside her. The bed squeaked again under their weight and the stubbly, close cropped beard on his face rasping against the soft, sensitive skin on Lys's chest as she rose and fell with each breath.
Just like she asked, his hands ran up the outside of Alyssa's thighs soft and slow.
"Anything else?"
"Then, I'd take your hands and put them on my..."
"Here?" Two fingers slid around the surface of Lys's panties, over a wet spot that had formed and then all the way back to where her legs came together. Still, his hands shook, but not as much as they had moments before.
She let out a tiny moan, and he did it again, but just a little harder.
"Do you," his voice faltered for a second, and then he kissed her throat. "Do you like it when I do this?" His lips were warm against Alyssa's skin, just like the fingertips curling against her sex.
"Mmm," she took a breath, "mm-hmm, right there, your kisses are making the back of my head feel all prickly."
"Is that good?" Preston kissed her again.
"Oh my...yes, yes, yes!" Her whispers were soft, but increasingly urgent. "I wanna yank my hands off this headboard and run them through that thick, black hair. Oh God I wish I wasn't tied up right now."
Instead of talking, Preston just kissed her again, warming her with a little circle of his tongue before touching her with his lips. He took one of his fingers away from her body and slid the hand through her hair. Halfway through, he grabbed a gentle handful and forced her neck to crane and kissed right underneath her jaw, then her chin, then he sucked on her throat and nibbled.
His tugging, raw, almost savage passion drove Alyssa's mouth open and made her suck a deep breath that hung in her throat.
"When you touch me like this, I think all kinds of things that I shouldn't be thinking, Preston," Alyssa said, wishing so badly that she could see his face instead of the back of a blindfold. "Why can't I see you?"
"Just not right now," he said, his lips brushing the back of Lys's ear and making her neck arch toward him.
In one of the countless shadows that covered Alyssa's room, a tiny lens turned and zoomed in on the lovers, watching Preston caress Alyssa, and her squirm and grin no matter how helpless her situation.
"I wonder what they're saying," Gadsen chuckled as he watched the whole scene play out on his Guest Room 4 monitor. "I'm sure it's very sweet. So eager and clumsy. I expected more out of Preston. I expected at least for him to try and hide her from me. Then again, I suppose I'm the only one with eyes in every corner of the house."
He put his feet on the desk in his cramped chambers, looked at a digital clock that displayed the time in large, bold, red letters.
"Not long now," he said. "Not long until this whole ridiculous charade and the puppy love and the promises of revenge are over once and for all. I'm sorry it has to be this way, Alyssa. I'm sorry you're caught up in something you don't understand. And I'm – wait a tick. No I'm not." He grinned. "Not one bit."
Chapter Fifteen
The smell of roses drifted through a bay window which Alyssa was certain was not open the night before. A quick glance around, and she noticed that a bunch of other things had moved as well – curtains pulled back, sun flooding the tiny chamber in which she awoke, still bound and helpless.
"Roses," she said into the cool morning air as a breeze caressed her skin, prickling her with goose bumps. "Roses again."
Beside her prison bed, the tiny perfume bottle that Peter left before her encounter with Mr. Webb had vanished, and that brush she'd used was also absent. Unconsciously, she rubbed sleep from her eyes and stretched.
Alyssa rubbed her wrists, stretching again. The red lines were still hot, still a little painful, but at the same time, a bit thrilling to rub, as she remembered Preston's passionate, tender touch with a sigh.
"Wait a minute," she said, glancing around the room again, "I'm up. I'm not tied. When did-"
"Oh good morning. I thought you'd still be asleep." Gadsen entered the room, using his hip to push open the door and walked in holding a tray. "I understand that Mr. Webb has made you our guest for some time?"
"You?" Lys's mouth hung open.
"It's quite alright. I knew he enjoyed your company, but Mr. Webb seems to have really taken a liking to you. He's tugged in many directions with the business today and some of his father's old affairs."
"I have absolutely no idea what to say." Alyssa clapped her jaws shut as her tongue started to dry. "I was...just last night...?"
Gadsen produced two lengths of rope and the blindfold swatch from his pocket and said, "I was asked to let you up. Mr. Webb is a bit eccentric, but not cruel. Well, not for long periods of time, anyway."
All Lys could do was let out a little bit of nervous giggling.
"It is a lot to take in. That's understandable. But I've brought you some food and juice. Your favorite is apple-cranberry, yes?"
"How did you know that?"
He just smiled.
"Apple-cranberry, two eggs over easy, two bacon fried crisp, and a biscuit. Cherry jelly. Will this do for now?"
With complete shock, Alyssa, who had just woken up from an incredibly thrilling nightmare moments before, found herself presented with the same thing she ate for breakfast nearly every day, right down to the brand of jelly she used that came from a tiny store off the road out of town. There's just no way, there's no way this is really happening.
"Oh, here you are." He poured tea – naturally her favorite Oolong, judging by the smell – from a pot on the tray, replaced it, and turned to leave. "If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask. There's a pull-chain on the light fixture that will ring the bell in my office should you require anything."
"I'm sorry. I'm still in a little bit of shock, I think. Or something else."
"Quite alright. Understandable given the change of circumstances, but there is one other thing I neglected." With an almost unnatural agility for someone of his age and stature, Gadsen returned to Lys's side and brushed her fallen hair away from her neck. "I'll need to do a few cursory examinations. Open please."
"Look this way. Good, now this way. Right. Follow my fingertip? Thank you." After jotting another note, he pushed the pen behind his ear, put two fingers on Lys's throat and stared at his watch face for ten seconds, counting soundlessly but moving his lips. "You're in remarkable condition. Mr. Webb will be happy to know. He was worried that after the jostling you received from that ogre yesterday, that you'd need medical attention."
After collecting his things, topping off Alyssa's tea, and folding her napkin into a triangle, Gadsen took two steps backward and turned on his heel.
"Wait," Lys said as his fingers reached for the door. "Wait just a second. What is all this? Why are you, taking my temperature and checking my pulse?" Her words trembled a bit at the end.
"It's...I thought you were aware of the circumstances surrounding your stay? Did Mr. Webb or that brutish Peter not explain?"
"I know I was caught taking mushrooms, and that's about it. Although last night when he was...er, last night, Preston said something cryptic about helping him with his line, but I didn't understand what he meant."
"I'll make a note of this. Highly irregular that he wouldn't explain further what you were to do." He scribbled, stuffed the notepad in his pocket hurriedly and moved back toward the door. "I'm sorry, I've things to do around the house. I'm sure you understand. Again, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"But I need to get back to town – I have a brother and a sister that depend on me. They can't get to school or anything without-"
"All taken care of, don't worry. They're well seen to. Now, if you would, I need to take care of some things around the house."
She took a deep breath when he turned around again, trying to leave for the fourth time in as many minutes.
"Okay, I'm sorry, one more thing and you can go. I know you're busy and I really appreciate the breakfast and you giving my little brother a ride to school and everything so don't think I'm angry, but..."