Stolen Hood

by The Grim Sisters

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  Archie frowns and tilts his head, “to a pub?”

  “You say that as if you aren’t sure,” Richard states the obvious.

  “Just unusual.” He shakes his head.

  My lips tilt up a bit because every experience I’ve had with a bar from the day I met Robyn will be bathed in her. I inhale thinking back to when we first met freshman year.

  I really shouldn’t fucking be here, but a job was a job. It was simple, and the watch that was stolen, glinted on the frat assholes’ wrist across the crowded college bar. Sweaty body after sweaty body pressed into me as I nearly let out a fucking snarl. I may dress like I party, but this wasn’t exactly my fucking cup of tea. I tried to not be a snob, but even I had my limits.

  “I said no,” a voice stated full of vigor and frustration.

  A protective surge went through me, despite not knowing who the fuck had spoken. I searched and easily found a figure leaning against the stonewall of the bar, a massive dude in front of them. The man said something and the figure struggled. Without a second thought, I had the guy pulled back and knocked on the floor, everyone snapping their eyes towards me. So much for stealth on the job.

  “Get the fuck out of here and next time listen,” I growled and flipped off the rest of the room turning back to see if…. Ah. fuck.

  “You didn’t need to do that.” A pair of perfect lips twisted into a scowl as I tried to not attack this woman, my fists curling and jaw tensing.

  Have you ever seen a stunning bug or flower? Bright colors and alluring? Only to find out that its super fucking dangerous? Yeah. That was her. She adjusted her leather jacket, folded her arms over her slim frame, and flicked that live wire red hair over her right shoulder. I wanted to fucking bury my nose in that soft hair while drilling her into the wall.

  “I didn’t,” I agree, knowing she could probably handle herself, “but I did.”

  She searched my eyes and then broke into a slow growing smirk, “well, are you going to buy me a drink or just stand there? Come on, Prince Charming.”

  Fuck the job, I clearly had far more important things to do.

  Seven shots, and a lot of laughs later, my arms were wrapped tightly around the vixen, her eyes darkening to an emerald green. I knew both of us were drunk, but I didn’t even try to stop her as she tugged me from the bar and called us a cab. The drive was short, but maybe that was because she was straddling me as I fucking devoured those soft pouty lips that had been teasing me all night. Every single fucking drink she took felt like torture as they wrapped around the rim.

  “What’s your name?” She whispered once we were in my place. It was a small one bedroom studio and low key enough that people didn’t try to use me for my money.

  “John,” I stated gruffly, “what about you, little bird?”

  I wasn’t positive where the nickname came from, but she laughed as I tugged off her jacket and she pulled at my shirt. I really should have put a stop to it but the word of her name made me pause, “Robyn.”

  Beautiful fucking name.

  Her frame fell onto my large bed, as I covered her with ease, my hand wrenching into her thick hair as the scent of jasmine surrounded me. I met her gaze and spoke, “be right back.”

  Because once I started devouring this woman, I wasn’t going to want to stop to get a condom. I slipped into the bathroom and as I walked back out, everything slowed. Not because of anything even that big. No, instead the little vixen had her eyes closed and was tucked against my pillows, letting out small soft breaths.

  I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed next to her. You would have thought I’d be mad, right? I wasn’t. I buried my head against her neck and she turned into me, whispering my name. I fucking prayed she’d be here in the morning. I almost didn’t want to sleep because I didn’t want to lose her.

  I sat up and noticed her phone. So I did something crazy.

  My hacking skills had always been fantastic, so it was easy enough to put a tracker on it. I told myself it was for her safety, but it wasn’t. It was the start of something so much more.

  Here it is, fucking two years later, and I’m so deep in love with her it physically hurts to be away from her. We pull up a block away from the bar in a packed city center, and my hope goes down. Not only would it be unlikely they’d bring a captive here, but it’s unlikely they’ve fucking done anything here. Too many eyes.

  I speak a bit of German, but Archie is the one directing and asking questions, so until we finally find the pub, I’m confused. The place is a massive modern complex that didn’t seem to fit with the norm around here. Another reason why they wouldn’t bring her here. My eyes scan the structure because, just like with thieving or hacking, you have to be observant. Technically, this is a job. A job where we’re stealing Robyn back.

  When we enter the space, we find it fairly busy so early in the evening. Archie doesn’t waste any time leading us through the space and towards one of the back hallways. I hope if anyone asks, we can claim we’re going to use the washroom. As we enter into the back hallway, I assumed we’ll come to a dead end.

  That’s when I hear it.

  Archie and Rich are talking, but I walk to the very end and look up into the high up wall vent. I could hear the soft click of a fan, which means that there’s a room there.

  “I have no idea,” Archie mutters. “Maybe he got the space wrong.”

  I grab the vent cover and tug it off, with Richard catching it as it swings over my head and Archie whistles. “Good one, John.”

  I smile because I can tell he genuinely means that. Pulling myself up, I find a small silver venting space that I have to glide through as I peak my head into a dark room.

  Instantly a sound catches in my throat. A figure lays on the floor, so I put my head back through. “Someone is tied up in here, I need you to be ready to help push them through.”

  Both men nod as I turn to push the vent out, sliding it through and down the wall. I think I knew instinctively it wasn’t Robyn. Still I move closer, and the figure shifts as a pair of familiar eyes look up at me, the same shade as the jewel I’m seeking. But these orbs don’t belong to my little bird.

  “Sheriff?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Robyn

  Day 2

  I’m going to kill this fucker. I can’t wait.

  One thing I can say about him is that he’s reliable when it comes to predictability. Every single day, he comes in and forces me to take a bath while he talks to me like I am a child. I’ve been pretending I’m super fucking responsive when he touches me. So the moments when his fucking finger poke at my pussy were growing less in time. That’s a good thing because my skin is still healing from the other day, but twice today his actions have started to escalate. Like now. Right now.

  It has to be the middle of the afternoon, and I’m sprawled out on the bed with my massive poodle skirt like dress fanned out around me as he draws my stockings up my legs. He’s whispering a bunch of really fucked up things under his breath like a lunatic and my hands are bound to the headboard. Day 2. I really need someone to hurry the fuck up and get me out of here because the days are shortening, and I’m starting to think it doesn’t matter if he has his dagger or not.

  “Such a good girl,” he coos, straddling me and playing with my hair. “Mommy likes a good boy.”

  I really do not want to know what the bastard went through as a child.

  My brows rise as something occurs to me. Something that’s so sick I wonder if it’ll work, and by God, it will probably mentally scar me.

  “Mommy likes a good boy,” I coo softly and everything in the Senator’s face freezes. His bright eyes looks like fractured glass as a tremble works its way through him, and I press on.

  Flashing a forced smile, I ask, “now, why did you tie mommy up? I can’t make you feel good if you don’t untie me.”

  I can feel the bile rising in my throat.

  “Mommy?” His vo
ice is soft as he drops closer, his head nearly level with mine.

  “My sweet boy,” I murmur. I’m so going to hell for this.

  I watch as the man, in a near trance, undoes my wrists and curls up like a child, his head resting on my breast. My eyes widen in horror as he brings a thumb to his mouth and starts to suck on it, with my hand resting on his head, gently trying to keep him calm.

  It works.

  For about an hour.

  I feel the shift when he seems to grow angry. He looks up at me and says, “mommy, is it dinner time?”

  I want to laugh and cry.

  “Sure sweet boy,” I clear my voice, “go get mommy’s dinner.”

  He frowns and the unhinged man resurfaces as fury breaks across his face. He growls, “mommy didn’t make me eat normal food.”

  Oh my bad, man, how did I not know that?

  My squeak is authentic as he takes scissors to my dress and cuts down the center to reveal my bare breasts. What he does next will never leave my thoughts. The man leans forward and latches onto my fucking nipple.

  Everything inside me freezes as he begins to suck on it like a fucking infant.

  I could barely breathe and everything inside of me is frozen as I wince at the pain. His teeth biting down as he pulls back. I really didn’t expect the slap.

  “Fuck,” I cry out as the man roughly grabs my breast and sucks on the other.

  “Be a good boy or else you won’t get dinner,” he mutters as he begins to dry hump me, his face contorting in pain.

  I watch on in horror as the man continues for ten minutes, his grunts causing me to stare transfixed, because this just keeps getting more fucked up. Then finally, he lets out a cry of, “mommy,” and cums, his pants growing darker from his cum as he lets out a snarl.

  I wish I could tell you his release kept me safe.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like his plans changed any, because that night he comes back into my room and draws a massive letter ‘H’. I know he would rather be dragging his dagger across my skin. I know he wants to be plunging into me. Both with his dagger, and his dick, which is gross as fuck. I’m running out of time.

  Come on boys, where the fuck are you?

  Day 3

  I wake with my head feeling like it’s stuck in the center of a foggy storm. My thoughts taking too long to form a single coherent thought. I also feel slightly nauseated, like my stomach is churning along with the storm in my head. It takes a good second, but I quickly realized I’ve been drugged, and this is the after effects of one going through withdrawal since Senator psycho didn’t feed me yesterday. My false sense of acceptance over my situation has been nothing but a drug induced confidence. He must have not been giving me much to keep me from noticing, but his mistake of not feeding me yesterday has made it blatantly clear.

  The grey light streaming through the tiny window tells me it’s still early. I have time before Reynolds return to start his psychological torture. Trying to gather my thoughts and clear through the fogginess, I think about my men. Yes mine. I’m definitely claiming them from this point on. If I get out of here, there’s isn’t going to be anymore indecision about where we stand. They belong to me, I belong to them. Boom. Mic drop. If they can’t get with the program, then too bad, there’s no getting out of this shit.

  As my mind starts to drift on the fine line of my unraveling sanity, I think back to the first time I met Richard. I don’t know why. It was such a long time ago. Until now, I barely remembered, but as I drift the memory is so fucking clear, I feel like it’s right in front of my face. and wham, it hits me like a bird does a super clean window.

  Ten Years Ago

  I pulled at the stupid dark blue dress with the white folded down collar my stepmother is making me wear. Her, my brother, and I are on our way to some snobby rich person’s house. I don’t get why we always have to dress up. She said it’s a garden party, which means it’s a boring grownup party and not a fun kid one. I thought only the Queen of England threw garden parties.

  “Robyn, get down here right now. We’re going to be late,” stepmother called up the stairs.

  I’m surprised she didn’t send one of the house staff to collect me. She’s always saying proper ladies don’t yell. I made sure I took my time leaving, and when the driver opened the door to the Bentley, my stepmother stared at my face, horrified. The makeup she'd precariously applied to my face, I scrubbed off as soon as she left me to get ready. I also tossed the huge white ribbon she tied in my hair.

  “You little monster, what have you done to your face?” She screeched.

  “The makeup was making me itchy so I took it off.”

  “Well, now look at you. You can see every freckle on your face now,” she whined, eyeing me with clear disdain. “And your hair. It’s bad enough you refuse to let me dye it so it’s blonde like mine, and not that garish red,” she huffed.

  “What’s wrong with my freckles and hair? My mama’s hair was red,” I retorted defensenly.

  “Nothing, Robyn. She’s just pissy you’re prettier than her,” my brother said, giving our stepmom a dirty look, which makes her stop her next insult. Our daddy would be very angry with her if he knew she talked badly to us. It’s only me she seemed to always have something to say about.

  My brother is not happy about going either. He’s fourteen and likes these stupid parties as much I do. The only reason why he goes is for the girls. He’s very popular. I don’t like any of the girls there. They’re not any fun and act like grownups.

  “Well, get in. We don’t have time to fix it now,” she snapped. Scowling, she crossed her arms over her cocktail dress. “You’re lucky you're pretty and have nice eyes.” She also said ladies didn’t frown, but she’s doing just that.

  The ride is long and quiet until we pulled up in front of one of the biggest houses I have ever seen in my life. Whoever lived here must be really rich. Before I could step out the car, stepmother grabbed my arm and said, “the man who owns this home has two sons. The youngest is the same age as you. I want you to make friends with him and stick to him like glue.”

  “Why?” I frowned.

  “Because if you want to make it in this world, you need to know the right people. The owner of this house is a multi billionaire. I don’t expect you to understand now, but you will. Now the boy’s name is Richard York. I expect you to do as I said or there will be consequences,” she hissed before letting me go.

  Once freed, I hightailed it toward the house, looking for my brother. I had no plans of being friends with anyone stepmother pointed out. She’s stuck-up and selfish, and not the person I cared to grow into. I can’t find my brother, but I have spotted that Richard boy. He’s the one with a group of girls around him. He looked bored and not like a boy at all. He’s way too pretty. He had dark hair and pretty silver eyes. I didn’t even know eyes came in that color. When he looked in my direction, I turned away. The maze in the yard I saw through the windows looked promising. Far better than pretending to be some spoiled brats friend.

  I liked the York’s garden, and this maze is amazing. It’s huge and far more challenging than any I’d tried before. I’ve always liked puzzles, or anything that challenged my mind. Turning right, I crawled through a hidden tunnel covered in vines and flowers. At the end of the tunnel, I rose to my feet and brushed the grass and bits of leaves from my knees. There’s a grass stain on the hem of my dress now. I’m sure it will make my stepmother very unhappy.

  In front of me is a mid sized wooden door. I opened it, and my eyes grew wide at the sight in front of me. Within the maze was a whole other mini secret garden with the most exotic flowers I have ever seen. Walking over to a bush of black roses, I inhaled the sweet scent. This place was exactly like the book my father would read me to sleep when he’s home. I’m examining an extraordinary dark purple flower with orange stems. I planned on taking one home with me when I heard the sound of the door opening. Turning, I came face to face to the little pretty boy from the party.
Richard York.

  “What are you doing here?” He asked with a snarl on his lovely face.

  I’m struck silent by his beauty so I don’t answer at first, but then I narrowed my eyes right back at him when I took in his tone.

  “I found it. It’s not like the door said keep out or anything,” I retorted, placing my fingers on my hips. Despite having to crawl in here, his clothes still looked perfect and stained free.

  “It looked like you’re about to steal that flower.”

  Shrugging unapologetically, I said, “it’s pretty, and would look better in my room.”

  “Do you always take things you want?” He asked. The anger on his face is gone, and now he just looked curious. I understood curiosity quite well.

  “It’s in my blood,” I answered simply. “Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining?” I asked moving my attention to another pretty and unusual flower. Maybe I’ll take a whole boutique home if I could get them past stepmother.

  “I rather be entertaining you.”

  “Why?” I asked confused. “Those girls seemed like they wanted to be in your company. I do not.”

  “And why is that?” He frowned.

  “It has nothing to do with you. I’m sure you’re nice. My stepmother ordered me to be nice to you, and I don’t like to be ordered.”

  “Neither do I. We have something in common. My father ordered me to entertain the girls here and tell him who’s my favorite. So I ran off to hide, and here you are.” He moved closer and I pretend to be distracted by the teal flower in my hand. When his fingers rubbed a bit of my hair between them, I looked up in his extraordinary eyes.

  “I think you're right about taking what you want when you see the beauty in things,” he said softly. Far more soft than his usual, I bet. He sounded like a grownup. With those words, he moved his face closer to mine and kissed me softly on the lips. Wide eyed, I stared at him shocked until he pulled away. “Take the flower. You’re right, it would look better in your room.”