by Kyle Autumn
God, I haven’t allowed myself to get this close to anyone in the last several years. Besides the obvious obstacles from my past, I also haven’t wanted anyone’s eyes on me. So I’m this close to reaching the end of this before it’s even truly begun. But as I move over to her other nipple and suck hard, thrusting over and over again into her pussy, her tight heat starts to flutter around my dick. She’s close—thank god.
I don’t slow down. I keep up this punishing, unrelenting pace. I even use my teeth on her nipples while sucking as hard as I can. As I thrust, I pound her back into the wall with each pulse. She’s going to be bruised and battered, but it doesn’t seem like she minds. In fact, it seems like she wants it.
Her heels dig into my ass and her legs squeeze the shit out of my hips as she bucks along with my pace. I bottom out inside her each time I slam into her, but she keeps grunting like she likes it.
“Harder,” she breathes into my ear. “Fuck me harder!”
Even though I don’t think I can, I somehow do.
A faster pace.
A more violent thrust.
A harder suck on her tit.
Whatever this girl asks for, I’m gonna give it to her. Because she’s asking for the same things I want to do to her. Until I can’t any longer.
Like right now.
“Keaton!” she screams so loudly right next to my ear as she clamps her pussy around my dick.
On my most punishing thrust yet, I come so hard that I slam her back into the wall with nearly too much force. It knocks the breath out of her during her own climax, and she sags against my body, her limp arms around my shoulders. But her legs stay crossed behind my back, so she remains locked in place. With my head in her neck, I hold us still to steady my fast, erratic breathing. Then she finally comes back to life, inhaling deeply.
“Holy shit,” she says on a reverent exhale, still breathing hard.
I can barely control my own breath, but I let out a raspy, “Yeah, no kidding,” between pants.
And then I make a critical error. I place a kiss on her bare, enticing shoulder as if she’s my woman, this is a romantic moment, and I’m allowed to do that.
It’s somehow more intimate than anything we’ve already done together. More intimate than putting my dick in her mouth. More intimate than licking her clit until she came on my tongue. Even more intimate than this fast, sweaty, completely naked fuck. And it makes her a solid statue in my arms.
She gives my shoulders a shove, and I comply immediately, backing us away from the wall and gently setting her on her feet. When she slides around me to pick her clothes up, I don’t turn around. I keep my back to her and slip the condom off while she dresses. Her broken panties lie next to her sports bra when she hands me my own clothes. After tying the condom up, I get dressed again—just my pants though, because I want her to see me even though she can’t with how dim the light is. Then I tell her I’ll be right back and take what’s left of our spur-of-the-moment sex upstairs.
Once I’ve locked the door behind me, I lean against it, let out a heavy breath, and wonder what the fuck I’m going to do next.
13
Ali
What feels like forever later, Keaton finally comes back downstairs. A while ago, I yelled up at him to bring a phone down so I can call Jane. She’s probably alerted the authorities by now, so I need to let her know I’m okay. Well, I’m alive. Which is shocking after that brutal pounding he gave me. If I thought everything hurt before, I was totally wrong. I’m going to be sore for a week in places that I didn’t know I could be sore.
When Jane asks me if I’m okay, I’m not sure what I’m going to tell her. Am I? I mean, big picture here, I’m not sure where I am, and I’m locked in a soundproof basement with a man I hadn’t met before he started screaming at me when I woke up from having been knocked out.
Small picture, I’m having the best sex of my life and I’m safer than I’ve ever been. No one knows where I am, and no one can find me. As long as he’s not working for my father, I don’t think I have anything to worry about right now.
My clients might not appreciate that I’m missing deadlines, but I’m practically on vacation. A fucked-up vacation. Whatever. I’ll take it. As long as I can let my best friend know I’m alive.
“Where have you been?” I rush out once he reaches the bottom of the stairs.
He takes a few seconds before he says anything. Though, first, he shrugs. “I got a phone call. Some stupid telemarketer who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and then I thought you needed some time after…”
“I just need to call my friend,” I say, ignoring any feelings I have toward his thoughtfulness.
Sure, he kissed my shoulder and that freaked me out. But I’m more freaked out by letting more time pass before Jane knows I’m okay. The last thing I need is landing on the radar of the local police department. Or the radar of anyone, really. It’s bad enough that I’m on Keaton’s now. As soon as we can figure a harmless way out of this, that’ll pass too. Somehow. Even though we might see each other often, seeing as he’s my new neighbor.
I wonder if I can get out my lease this soon into it.
He holds the phone in the air. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to just hand you this phone. Just give me the number and I’ll send her a text.”
“And you’re crazy”—I put my hands on my hips—“if you think she’s going to take the word of a random text from a random number that says I’m okay.”
“It’s worth a shot,” he says, his fingers poised to press her phone number into it.
After a dramatic sigh, I rattle her number off. Even though we live in the age of not needing to memorize phone numbers, I don’t have that privilege. I don’t keep a phone or a number long enough, and I certainly don’t get to transfer information from phone to phone. So I’ve long since committed Jane’s to memory. Luckily, it’s the only one I need to remember.
“‘Hi. It’s Alex,’” he says while typing.
“No, you have to say Ali,” I correct him. “A-L-I. Otherwise, she’ll know something’s up.”
He backspaces. “‘Ali. Everything is fine.’”
“And tell her, ‘Sorry I didn’t message back after my run. I fell asleep, but I’m awake now.’” I twist my hands, wondering if this is actually going to pacify my nosy friend.
Just one eyebrow rises on his forehead as he holds the phone still in his hands.
“What?” I ask, not sure what’s wrong with what I said. “It’s not a lie or anything.”
“It’s long as fuck,” he grunts, but he goes back to typing.
After showing me the message and I’ve given him the okay, he fires it off. The phone rings a split second later, Jane’s number flashing on the screen. I go to grab it, but Keaton holds it out of reach.
“What are you going to tell her?”
“That I’m fine!” I shout, trying to snatch the phone from his grasp.
Squinting at me, he says, “One word about me or what happened—”
“I know! I won’t say anything. Believe me, I’m safer here than at my house. Just give me the phone,” I insist, nearly jumping for it.
With one hand in the air, he signals for me to calm down. Then he hovers over the answer button. “I’m going to put it on speaker so I can hear everything. Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns.
I nod rapidly, and then he answers Jane’s call.
“What in the ever-loving fuck, Ali?” Jane squeals down the line. “Where the fucking hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”
“I said I’m sorry,” I tell her, my gaze on Keaton as he paces while staring at me. “My phone died, and then I had to get a new one. So here I am, finally calling you back.”
“Goddammit, Ali. I was fucking terrified.”
“I’m sure you were,” I reply, rolling my eyes. Inwardly, though, I’m just glad someone cares enough about me to be worried.
“I even called the police and told them you were missing!”
“I’m sure you did,” I sigh. “But you can call them and tell them I’m fine.” Just locked in a basement God knows where, but ya know. I’m fine.
She lets out a deep breath, and I hear a smack like she threw a hand to her chest. I can’t control my smile now. Jane’s the craziest but the most amazing person I know, and it feels good to be cared about.
Keaton’s staring at me still, but his eyes take on a lighter, less intense expression as he relaxes a little. I’m clearly not telling Jane to alert the authorities or telling her where I am—mostly because I can’t because I don’t even know, but still.
“Okay. This is your new number now, then?” she asks.
“Yep,” I lie. That’ll have to do until I get another phone again.
“And what’s the password?”
I don’t want Keaton to hear this part, but there isn’t much I can do about that. I make my voice quieter anyway. “Hammer,” I tell her shyly, refusing to meet his gaze. Every time we do this, I wish I hadn’t picked that as our confirmation that I’m really okay. But I did, and it’s yet another reminder of why I live the way I do.
“All right. I’ll follow the drill. Talk later, you crazy bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Then I reach up to hit the button to end the call.
I’m surprised he allowed me to do so, but when I finally look at him, he’s frozen. Completely still, a solid brick standing in front of me. I followed the rules, didn’t I? Is that why he’s so shocked? Because even in the dim light of this room, I can see his color draining fast.
“What?” I ask him, my heart speeding up. “What’s wrong?”
14
Keaton
Who the fuck needs a confirmation password? And she picked hammer? My blood runs cold for a brief moment before I shake that sick feeling at the pit of my stomach off and pacify her.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and stick the phone in my pocket. “I was just a little shocked that you didn’t try anything.”
“I said I wouldn’t,” she replies, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “I meant it when I told you that I feel safer here than I would at home.”
My eyebrows pinch together. I don’t understand anything about this woman. What kind of crazy shit had to happen to someone for them to feel safer with a strange man who’s basically kidnapped them?
“I mean,” she continues before pushing some of her hair behind her ears, “you’re not planning on hurting me, right? You haven’t been hired to kill me or anything?”
“God damn,” I say on an exhale. “What the fuck happened to you?”
She puts one hand on one hip and pops the other hip out. “Excuse me?” As she points to the wall behind her—the one we just fucked against—she says, “I could aim that same question right back at you.” Then she puts that hand on her free hip and stares at me, her eyebrows high on her forehead.
Touché. I roll my eyes.
“You still owe me an answer to a question,” she says, pinning me with her gaze.
I huff out a breath. “Fine. What’s the question?”
She blinks a few times like she wasn’t expecting me to give in so easily. Then she folds her arms over her chest again. “Don’t you have to go to work or something?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No. I don’t.”
More blinking. Then she throws her arms out to her sides. “That’s it?”
“I answered your question.” I widen my stance and mock her previous position, Crossing my arms over my chest. “What more do you want from me?” I ask, my eyebrows drawn down.
“Something real,” she mutters before she turns around.
With her back to me, I take a moment to admire how strong she is. She’s not complaining about being down here with me. She’s not screaming or crying or bargaining to leave. I still don’t know what the hell we’re going to do about all of this, but it’s nice to have company for once.
“For the first time in my life, I want something real.” Her words come out a little watery, so I go to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
“How can I give you that?” I ask without thinking about it. It was an automatic response to knowing she was in pain. Which leaves me confused, but I can’t do anything but go with it.
Her sigh is deep and long, and her words are shaky. “God, I have no idea.”
I take a chance and loop my other arm around her waist. I go slowly so I don’t freak her out, toeing the water before fully jumping in. If we’re stuck in this room until we figure out where to go from here, we might as well enjoy it. And, for some reason, holding her seems like something I would enjoy. Even if she’s trembling with emotion.
She doesn’t flinch or shove me away, so I fully embrace her from behind. I fill my lungs with her scent and start to guide her backwards to the chair. When I reach it, I turn her toward me, pick her up so her shoulders and the backs of her knees are in my arms, and sit, placing her on my lap. I put my elbows on the armrests and hold her to me, where she rests her head on my shoulder and sniffles.
“Sorry,” she says, wiping her nose.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” I press her closer to me for a moment before relaxing again.
She scoffs. “We don’t even know each other and I’m a puddle of tears. I just…” Between hiccups, she tries again. “I haven’t…”
“Whatever it is, it’s fine,” I say softly close to her ear. I get that this is a stressful situation, and I’m surprised she didn’t break down sooner. “Ask me another question. I promise I’ll answer.”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes and curse at myself. I have to stop doing and saying things without thinking them through first. Letting my guard down is an absolute shitstorm waiting to happen. I’ve been practicing for so long, keeping everything bottled up and to myself, that I should know better, so it’s surprising that this broken woman is bringing it out in me. That all I want to do is make her feel better, no matter the personal cost.
She sniffles a couple of times before she gives in to her curiosity. “Okay. Why don’t you have to work?”
I take a deep breath before answering her. I don’t talk about this shit with anyone, and my instinct is to shut her down, but I made her a promise. And I’ll do just about anything to keep that promise.
On an exhale, I begin. “At my old job, I was paid well. Really, really well. And I was working a second job too. So I saved my pennies until I had enough to live on for a while.”
Her shuddering stops, and she lifts her head. “You actually answered me,” she firmly states, shock dripping from her tone.
“I promised I would,” I tell her gently before tucking some hair behind her ear.
She leans toward my hand, pressing her cheek against my skin. Closing her eyes, she hums lightly. And for a moment, a flash of…something overtakes my vision. A memory? No, because she’s in it. A dream? Maybe.
Ali’s free. Dancing in a field of flowers. Not a care in the world. And she’s laughing. A genuine, full-blown belly laugh that lights her beautiful face up so brightly. She can’t contain her joy, and it’s addicting to watch.
But then it’s gone.
I decide that that’s how I’ll always think of her. Like a woman untamed. Her true self, which is hidden behind a rough, guarded exterior. Much like my own.
Will I ever meet that version of her? Will she ever get to be that version? Does she want to be that version? I think she does.
Deep down, I want to be the one she chooses to be with when she’s finally that version.
What kind of fucked-up shit does that say about me?
15
Ali
His touch is like magic. I have no idea why, because this should be all kinds of wrong. But I can’t get enough. Not for a second do I want to pull his hand away or move my face. Instead, I can picture the way life would be if we’d met under different, more normal circumstances. I can envision a happier life with this man, one without secrets and murder and running from my father. One
without passwords with a friend. One with other friends.
But I don’t allow myself to indulge too long. That’s a dream. A fantasy. Though I’m living a life where fucked-up fantasies sometimes come true in the strangest ways, I don’t let myself hope for this new one. That isn’t the life I’m living, so I shove that down and plan on never dealing with it again.
Disappointment blows. But that is the life I’m living. Thanks, Dad.
When I go to pull away from him, he holds me close. I expect to feel smothered, but that feeling never shows up. I almost feel…cared for. I barely remember what that feels like though, so maybe I’m way off base. Either way, I relax again and melt against his chest, soaking in the goodness that is not having a care in the world.
“Why do you go by Ali instead of Alex?” he asks out of nowhere, his deep voice startling me.
When I’ve settled from the jolt of his question, I take a deep breath and answer him. “My parents couldn’t decide on a nickname for me. One was very feminine, which my mother loved, but the other is very masculine, which my father preferred. In the end,” I say after a deep sigh, “I sided with my mother.”
He strokes the side of my face. “Are you close with her?”
This question steals the breath from my lungs. I find myself unable to breathe around this man far too often. So all I do is shake my head, my words caught in my throat.
“How come?” he asks innocently, not realizing the torture he’s putting me through.
Flashes of a night I try to never think about soar across my vision. The pouring rain. The screeching. All the running. So much running away. Then the police. Even when I close my eyes, it’s all still there. I can see it. Hear it in my head. In fact, these pops of memories are more vivid when I try to block them out, so I tear my eyes open and focus on the dark wall in front of me.