Two hours later
“Miss Anabelle!” Steve pounded on the dressing room door. “Miss Anabelle, we have to go—now!”
“We’ll go when I’m ready.” I glared at the door and saw the handle start to turn. “I’m not dressed!”
“There’s more to worry about than me seeing your tits.” He threw the door open and I had to grab a dress to cover myself. “Rourke and Brody just escaped—we have to go—now!”
“Oh fuck.” I grabbed the dress I wore into the store and started putting it on as fast as possible. “How?”
“Something happened—there was a power surge and several prisoners escaped. I don’t really know the details, but we need to get back to Prescott Manor immediately.” He grabbed my arm as soon as I had the straps over my shoulders.
Steve was no longer the submissive dog that followed me around. He jerked and dragged me across the store as other shoppers looked at us with a look of confusion on their faces. My heart started pounding hard in my chest. If Rourke escaped, there was only one place he was headed—wherever I was. I would be a lot safer at Prescott Manor than downtown in the shopping district, but Rourke had nothing to lose—and Brody was a monster. They would burn Chicago to the ground to find me.
“Drive!” Steve shoved me into the car and didn’t even wait until I was seated before he yelled at the driver.
“Yes sir!” The tires screeched as the car pulled away from the curb—and Steve pulled his gun from the holster underneath his jacket.
I’m in real danger. This isn’t my father being overly cautious. I gave them every reason in the world to want me dead—and now they’re coming for me.
Rourke and Brody weren’t the kind of men that ran from the danger—they confronted it head-on. They solved problems with violence because it was all they knew. And I was a very real problem for both of them. Not only did I tell the police that I saw them kill my father’s business partner, but I was the one who lured them to the crime scene, to begin with. I set them up to take the fall for my father—all because I was supposed to put family first. That was my father’s motto—the Prescott family motto that had been hanging on the wall in our living room since I was a little girl. I just never realized what it meant until I was forced to make the hardest decision of my life.
“Only a few more miles. Hit the gas.” Steve leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “At least we’re out of the city.”
Steve’s eyes were on the driver. The driver’s eyes were on the road. My eyes were wide open with fear—wide open enough to see the black car speeding towards us as we approached the intersection—wide open enough to know it wasn’t going to stop. I tried to yell, but my words got choked in my throat—by the time they came out, it was too late. The car hit us so hard at that the windshield and both of the windows on the driver side shattered. Our car spun—then it skidded off the road—it went down an embankment—and bounced before it finally came to a stop.
“Steve!” My bodyguard was slumped over, and I saw blood oozing from a wound on his scalp. “Fuck!”
The driver was laying against the steering wheel—groaning, but still alive. Steve was unconscious, and I shook him several times with no response. My head was throbbing—my vision was blurred. I could smell fumes and smoke was starting to come through the vents. I tried to push the door next to me open, but it wouldn’t budge. I immediately started crawling across Steve to get to the passenger side door, but before my hand reached the handle, it was jerked open.
“Hello, princess.” A rough voice—full of hate—it was Rourke.
“No! Leave me alone!” I scurried back, kicking at him as he reached into the backseat.
A calloused hand grabbed my ankle and jerked me out of the car so fast that I landed in the dirt. I looked up to see Rourke’s menacing stare—but it wasn’t the only one I saw. Brody was right there beside him, all of the hate that the world could muster resonating from his eyes. They grabbed my arms and yanked me to my feet. I tried to fight—tried to kick—claw—anything—but then I felt something hard hit the back of my skull. My vision blurred for a second—then the only thing I saw was darkness.
Where am I?
My hands are tied.
My feet too.
I’m on the ground—it feels like wood.
“Help!” I tried to sit up and felt my head start to throb. “Someone, help me!”
“Oh, Princess…” A chuckle—followed by a light in front of me—a flame that moved to the tip of a cigarette protruding from Rourke’s lips. “Nobody’s coming to help you.”
“We’re the only ones here—the only ones for miles.” Another chuckle—this time it was from Brody who was standing next to Rourke.
“Please…” I looked up at them. “Please don’t hurt me!”
“We’re definitely going to hurt you.” Brody reached down, grabbed my legs, and turned me over so hard my chin slammed into the wood. “But first, we’re going to have some fun.”
His weight descended on me—I was pinned to the floor underneath him. I felt his hands on my ass—then he ripped my dress. I screamed, but that didn’t stop him. He wrapped his hand around my panties and tore them off my hips with one quick yank.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun.” He pressed down on my back and I heard him unzip his pants.
Oh god.
Brody
A few hours earlier
“The money is there.” I opened the driver’s side door and slid behind the wheel. “Just like they promised—one million dollars.”
“It’s not going to matter much if we don’t get to spend it.” Rourke looked over at me and shook his head. “The cops are going to be looking for us—it’ll be a full-fledged manhunt considering how much the press loves putting our faces on television.”
“Yeah.” I exhaled sharply. “I called my uncle. Nobody’s staying at his cabin. We can hide out there for a few days and let the heat die down some.”
“I don’t want to hide,” Rourke growled under his breath. “We need to find Anabelle.”
“Then it’ll be a good place to hide once we do.” I nodded and cranked up the car.
Rourke was right. The cops would be looking for us and our freedom was definitely limited. The only way we could ensure that we were able to see the outside of a prison again once they found us was to make sure Anabelle Prescott learned how to keep her mouth shut when those perfect pouty lips weren’t doing what they were made to do. I just hoped Rourke could go through with it.
There was a good chance that we would have to kill Adrian Prescott’s baby girl in order to make sure she didn’t testify against us. That wasn’t going to be easy for Rourke—he loved the bitch. He couldn’t even kill a bastard who deserved to die like Josef Weber—then again, he didn’t know my history with Weber, or why I was so intrigued by the offer. I didn’t need to be paid for it—I would have done it for free under the right circumstances. The money was just a bonus.
We hit up some of our old contacts and got two cars, along with a change of clothes. After that, we stopped for supplies at a store near the neighborhood we grew up in—the kind of place that was used to criminals walking through the door and wouldn’t call the cops if Charles Manson walked in with blood on his hands. We also put the word out, that the person who could tell us where Anabelle Prescott was would be a hundred grand richer. It took less than an hour for my burner phone to light up like a fucking Christmas tree.
“She’s downtown.” I walked over to Rourke’s car and bent down to look in the driver’s side window
“Yeah, she won’t be downtown long.” Rourke motioned to the radio. “The news just broke the story about the riot—and named us as two of the prisoners that escaped.”
“Then we need to move fast.” I motioned for him to follow me and headed towards my car.
The plan was pretty simple. There was only one road that led to Prescott Manor and if Anabelle wasn’t inside, that was the route her driver would have to take. I
volunteered to ram her car because I was afraid Rourke would hit the brakes and change his mind at the last second. I knew what love would do to someone—even if the person they cared about betrayed them. I felt that sting once, but it wasn’t a knife through the heart like the one Rourke got from Anabelle. My foot wasn’t going to come off the gas pedal, even if I saw her pretty emerald eyes before the impact—I didn’t even care if I killed her—that would have actually made it a lot easier than dragging her back to my uncle’s cabin.
There she is—just like we predicted.
I motioned to Rourke and hit the gas—I accelerated fast, gripping the steering wheel with my hands as I braced for impact. The hit would probably fuck me up a little bit, but I could take it. I had been hit by things that hurt a whole lot worse than a fucking airbag. The sound of metal on metal and broken glass was like music to my ears—then my vision went white when the airbag slammed into my skull. It didn’t knock me unconscious and a few seconds later, Rourke was dragging me out of the car. I stumbled for a moment but managed to get my balance.
“It went down there.” Rourke pointed at the car that was sitting at the bottom of the embankment.
“Let’s get her.” I bent my knees and started running down the incline as fast as I could without falling on my face.
“Don’t hurt the others—they don’t deserve it.” Rourke grabbed my arm as soon as we got to the car.
“Fine.” I nodded as he grabbed the door and yanked it open.
There she was—the little ice princess—missing one of her red-soled shoes, but mostly unharmed. The driver was alive. I wasn’t sure about her bodyguard, but I really didn’t give a fuck. The little ice princess put up a fight—but I gave her a quick tap on the back of her head—hard enough to help her take a nap but not hard enough to crack her skull. That felt good. I had been wanting to put my fists to that bitch for over a year.
“Fuck man, you didn’t have to hit her.” Rourke bent forward and threw her over his shoulder.
“She’ll be fine. It’ll be easier to carry her than drag her.” I grunted and shrugged.
Rourke started back up the embankment and I noticed something laying in the floorboard—a gun. I grabbed it and tucked it into the back of my shirt before following Rourke up the embankment to his car. We put Anabelle in the trunk and I shoved a needle in her arm—a little something I picked up from one of our contacts to make sure her nap lasted a lot longer than the one she got from the shot to the back of her head.
I mapped out the route to uncle’s cabin on my burner phone and pointed out the direction to Rourke. The cabin was outside of the city—far away from Prescott Manor—and a hell of a long way from the jail that we had been staying in while we awaited trial. The cabin wasn’t registered to my uncle, so there was no way anyone would know to look for us there. My uncle definitely wasn’t a fucking snitch and would have helped me bury Anabelle’s body if I asked.
A few hours later
“I think she’s waking up.” I looked down at Anabelle and titled my head to the side. “She looks so fucking harmless—hard to believe this little bitch was the one who put us behind bars.”
“Yeah.” Rourke exhaled sharply and pushed a cigarette between his lips. “Let’s see if we can talk some sense into her before we do anything drastic—please.”
Even after a year, Rourke still craved the bitch—she got into his soul—set up shop. That wasn’t going to stop me from taking what I wanted. I hadn’t felt a pussy on my dick since we got locked up and the only nut I’d been able to get was a quick one under the covers after the lights went out. That was a poor substitute for a good set of lips or a nice tight pussy like the one at my feet. There was no way I was going to be denied that pleasure, even if Rourke saw her as more than a piece of meat to be used. She was going to spread those legs, open that mouth, and feel every inch as it was driven inside her.
The little bitch begged—of course she did—like she had a right to ask us for anything after what she had done. I tore her dress—tore those thin little panties off her ass. I wanted to hurt her alright—I wanted to make her scream. That want was about to become reality if she didn’t stop squirming. I could smell her pussy—that sweet scent that I had been craving since the moment I was locked behind bars. It made me rock hard and I wasn’t going to wait to have what I craved. She owed us a debt—and I fully intended to collect. I unzipped my pants as I listened to her whimpers—stroking my cock to the sound of her sobs as they echoed in the cabin.
“Do you know what it’s like to be locked up in a cage.” I leaned forward and growled into her ear. “To have all of your pleasures stripped away?”
“No…” Her voice cracked.
“Of course you don’t—you live in your daddy’s castle—surrounded by everything your heart desires,” I growled again. “Well look around you, princess. This is no fucking castle.”
“Please…” Her chest heaved, and I heard a sob. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her chin into the wooden floor. “You’re fucking sorry!? Do you think a fucking apology is going to fix this?”
“No…” She sobbed again.
“You want to make it up to us, don’t you princess?” I released my grip on the back of her neck.
“Yes.” She nodded quickly
“Have you given your pussy to anyone else while we’ve been gone?” I grabbed her ass and squeezed.
“No.” She shook her head quickly.
“At least you have some sense in that fucking head of yours—who does your pussy belong to?” I growled and squeezed her ass harder.
“You…” She whimpered.
“Not just me, right princess?” I looked back at Rourke.
“No—it belongs to you both.” I heard a sniffle and another sob.
“And you’re going to give us what belongs to us, aren’t you?” I let my finger move closer—close enough to tell that she was already wet.
“Yes.” She started trying to lift her ass—to give me better access—to beg me to put out the fire that my rage had started to ignite.
Rourke might have loved the little ice princess, but he wasn’t the first one who claimed her. I was. Then I shared her with him—because Rourke and I shared everything. I never expected him to see her as anything more than a pretty girl with a wet cunt.
Adrian Prescott’s baby girl was off-limits. Nobody was allowed to touch her—but I didn’t give a fuck. I saw something I wanted the night she walked into the bar on the wrong side of town. A poor little rich girl looking to have some fun. We had fun alright—a whole lot of fun. I claimed her innocence, then I let Rourke have a turn—and she came back for more. We just didn’t know that there was ice behind that beautiful smile.
I shifted my weight so that I wasn’t holding her down—no longer keeping her from lifting her ass for what she wanted.
“Beg for my cock, princess—just like you used to.” I felt a tremble inside me when her pussy lips lifted enough to rub against the head of my dick.
“Please…” She whimpered. “Please fuck me.”
I forced my cock inside of her and listened to her moan as it went deep. Nice and tight—just like I remembered. I had a year’s worth of lust in my balls, so it wasn’t going to be a long fuck. I just needed to bust a quick nut—then Rourke could do the same. I started thrusting hard, barely lubricating my dick with her wetness before I was hammering myself inside of her with quick, powerful thrusts. She moaned—god, that was like music to my fucking ears after not hearing a woman enjoying my dick for a year. It didn’t take long for the pressure to build up in my balls—pressure that I couldn’t stop from erupting. I felt her pussy starting to spasm and knew she was about to come too.
“Oh fuck.” I threw my head back and growled as the load rushed from my shaft.
I dropped my weight down against her ass and kept my dick buried inside her until the last spasm was done and every drop of cum was milked from my balls. Then I l
ifted up and pulled her onto her knees. Her tears had run through her makeup and left crevices along her cheeks. I grabbed her by the back of the neck and turned her towards Rourke, who dropped his cigarette, pressed it underneath his boot, and started unfastening his pants.
“Open wide, princess.” I pushed her towards him. “Show Rourke how much you’ve missed choking on his cock.”
“Yes—Master.” She swallowed hard and her lips parted as she moved towards Rourke’s engorged dick.
Yeah, you remember who you belong too. It’s too bad you didn’t remember it when it mattered most.
Anabelle
Two years ago
“I want to have some fun tonight.” I looked at my best friend, Samantha, and groaned. “I’m so tired of being cooped up in that house all day.”
“Yeah, trapped in a mansion—how horrific.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know how good you have it.”
“I’d trade places with you in a second.” I sighed and looked down at the floor. “You have freedom. You don’t have tutors that force you to learn languages you’ll never use or a glaring eye that never seems to be happy, no matter what you do.”
“You make it sound like hell.” Samantha shook her head back and forth. “Hell is having parents that struggle to pay the bills half the time or looking at all these college rejection letters and realizing that if you get many more of them, you’ll be stuck working a dead end job because you can’t even afford to go to college without a scholarship.”
“I could ask my father to help—if you’re struggling.” I looked up at her.
“I’d prefer not to owe a debt to Adrian Prescott—even if you are my best friend,” Samantha exhaled sharply.
“Well let’s do something to take our mind off things. I wanna go to O’Malley’s Pub.” I leaned closer. “I hear they don’t check IDs at the door.”
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