Stolen Fate

by S. Nelson

  Contact of any sort with him is dangerous. I want so much to be unaffected by him, to truly hate him, but I just can’t. I’m drawn to him on some weird level. I fight it, put on a good show, but in the end, he has this inexplicable power over me. And I think he knows it, too.

  “What do you want?” I ask flippantly, aiming for indifference. He sits down in the chair and tugs me onto his lap. My arm rubs against his chiseled chest while his scent infiltrates my defenses.

  Fuck. I’m in some serious shit here.

  “When I tell you to do something, Essie, you best do it the first time I say or else.” His arm wrapped around my waist is holding me in place so I don’t attempt to get away from him. His other arm is running up and down my leg, his hand teasing my burning flesh.

  “You are not the boss of me, Drayden. You can’t order me around and expect me to comply.” I’m trying my best to control my breathing. I can’t give way to the fact that my body is betraying me.

  “I own you, Essie. For the foreseeable future, you belong to me and you will do whatever I say, whenever I say it. If you refuse, then there will be consequences.”

  “What?” I say as I look at him with disbelief. “No one owns me, you bastard!” I struggle to get free but his punishing hold on me is too tight. “Let me go!” I shout.

  “You can fight me, but I will always win. Always.” His hold remains strong, never wavering. There is no hope in getting away from him, not right now. My best plan is to remain still, let him do or say what he came here for and be done with it for tonight.

  Tomorrow is a different day.

  Once he senses I’m not going to fight him anymore, he relaxes a bit. He leans in closer to me and smells my hair. If I didn’t already have a certain feeling toward this complex man, I would surely think he’s a psycho, smelling me and shit. Who does that? And so blatantly, too? Then again, he is highly intoxicated, so anything he does shouldn’t surprise me.

  “Are we going to sit here all night, or did you come in here for a reason?” I can feel him start to harden beneath me. Well, I guess he kind of just answered my question.

  “Would you shut the fuck up, Essie? You’re really starting to grate on my last nerve with that never-ending attitude of yours. If anyone has the right to be annoyed here, it’s me. Only me.” When I respond with my silence he continues, gripping my jaw and turning my face toward his. “You know, lots of women have come after me for my money, some even trying to claim they were pregnant with my child. But none have gone about it so diabolically. You get an E for effort in that area.” His one hand inches slowly up my body until he reaches just underneath my breasts. Even though he’s drunk and very upset with me, it’s almost like he’s still conscious of his touch. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’s trying not to overstep some invisible boundary. But at this point, isn’t it all just moot?

  “Were they?” I ask.

  It takes him a second to realize I asked him a question. “Were they what?”

  “Were they pregnant with your kid? Did you ever knock anyone up?” I’m so blunt about it, but I don’t even care.

  “Nope,” he garbles in my ear. “None of them knew I couldn’t have kids. So the joke’s on them, I guess.” He shifts so he can get a closer hold on me, bringing my sex in direct contact with his engorged arousal.

  For as tense as my body is now, a small sense of relief floods me. If he can’t have kids then I can’t be pregnant. A small smile starts to form on my lips but disappears just as quickly. “If you can’t have kids then why the hell are you holding me hostage, waiting to see if I am indeed knocked up?”

  “Well, nothing’s guaranteed, sweetheart. The doctors said the accident caused a lot of damage, and the chances of me having kids are one in a million. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that my lineage won’t go past me, but on the off chance you are that one in a million, you’re staying put until I find out for sure.”

  I heard everything he said to me but I focus on one word. Accident. Is that how he got those scars? And as if my internal question rules my body, my hand rises up and I make contact with his skin. I absently trace the puckered skin on his chest but before I can follow it up and over his shoulder, he yanks my hand away from his flesh, throwing it back into my lap.

  Once I’m thrown out of the trance, I let his other words sink into my brain.

  One in a million?

  Yeah, I’ll take those odds for sure.

  “When are you going to have me tested?”

  “What?”

  Is he hard of hearing now? “When are you going to test me to find out if I’m pregnant? I want to get out of here and the sooner we find out I’m not, the sooner I can go home.”

  “I don’t want to talk anymore.” He licks his full lips and leans in closer, nipping my neck with his brazenness. The two-day-old stubble he’s sporting scratches at my skin. Heat immediately shoots through me as if my body is set ablaze. I start to rock back and forth on his lap, trying to extinguish the embers before they fan out of control.

  “What are you doing?” I’m shocked a little bit with his audacity. I know he’s a man who obviously gets what he wants; I’m just surprised he wants me. Again. After everything I’ve done to him.

  “I wanna fuck,” he says, quite forcefully. “We did things your way last time. Now, I want to fuck you on my terms. My way.” He leans in again, trying to dominate me with his mouth but I push him away, shoving his bare chest with my hands.

  “No, Drayden. I don’t want to. Let me up,” I plead. “You’re drunk.”

  “I know. That’s what’s giving me the balls to surrender to my desire to be buried deep inside that sweet pussy of yours. Do you honestly think I’d fuck you sober?”

  His words are like a slap to the face. They hurt. I know this whole situation is fucked up, but his admission that I’m not worth it enough to try and have sex with me when he’s sober, in full control of his faculties, is too much. I want him to hurt like I hurt, so before I can change my mind, the flesh of my palm meets his unsuspecting cheek, driving home the fact that what he just said to me is degrading and offensive. Judging from his reaction, maybe I should have been off his lap before I lashed out at him.

  His eyes turn black, his hold turns incapacitating and he sneers at me. “I forgot. You like to fuck rough.” He lunges forward, almost knocking me out of the chair, throws me over his shoulder and heads toward the bed. I’m beating on his back the whole time, trying to get him to release me or at least sober up enough to realize what he’s doing.

  “Let me go, Drayden. I’ll scream if you don’t let me go.”

  “Go ahead. Scream away. No one will hear your desperate cries.” He tosses me on the bed and waits for me to do something. When I don’t move, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his bottoms and slowly draws them down, releasing himself from his confinement. My eyes go straight to his cock, almost forgetting how gifted he is. If I wasn’t so caught up in what is going to take place in a few seconds, I would revel in his gloriousness.

  He’s quite possibly the most beautiful and virile man I’ve ever seen, minus the controlling, kidnappy, psycho kind of vibe he’s emanating right now. Yeah, minus all that.

  “What are you going to do? Force yourself on me? I thought it wasn’t your style.” I throw the reminder out there, hoping it’s going to trigger something in that inebriated brain of his.

  He advances closer to me, taking his time drinking in my barely-clad body. “I’m not going to force myself on you, Essie. Before I sink deep inside you, you’ll be the one begging me for it.”

  “I highly doubt that, mister.”

  “Wanna make a bet?” When I try to scramble away from him, he catches my leg and pulls me down the length of the bed, closer to where he stands. Then, with one knee on the mattress, he pushes himself so he’s able to straddle my waist. My pink camisole rides up a bit in the struggle, barely preserving my full breasts from his view. My nipples are erect and he knows as much whe
n his fingers glide over the tips of them.

  “I will never give in to you. I will never consent to this. So if you want to rape me for real, then go right ahead. I’ve had worse than you happen to me, Drayden.” I say this with mixed emotions. It’s true. Worse things have happened to me in my young life, but I survived it all. And I will survive this.

  I will survive him.

  My words stop him. He stills in his movements, in his claiming of my body. He doesn’t get off me, but instead looks down into my face with a mix of confusion, lust and pity. I buck beneath him. I don’t need anyone’s pity. It’s the one thing which fueled my desire to do what I thought needed to be done in life. I can take care of myself; have been doing it my whole life. And I’m not about to stop now because I’m strangely attracted to my latest target. Yes, he turned the tables on me, pulling some unexpected moves, but nonetheless, I won’t be anyone’s plaything any more. Emotionally or physically. I call the shots. I decide my fate. No one else.

  When my body stops moving beneath him, when I stop fighting for him to release me, he takes that as his opening. He leans down so his chest is touching my own. He looks me in the eye one more time before laying his lips on top of mine. For as intoxicated as he is, his kiss is gentle. It’s sweet. The liquor on his breath is surrounding me, but I’m not as turned off by it as I should be.

  While I’m in the middle of a silent war with myself, Drayden’s hands glide up my body, coming to rest on the sides of my breasts again, teasing me with his feather-like touches. When he presses harder into my flesh, he gets the reaction he’s hoping for. I gasp and in doing so allow him entrance to my mouth. His tongue explores me, greedy to taste me, to feel my warmth. I reciprocate his need and growing desire. Ours is a kiss meant for a couple who knows each other, who are involved in an intimate relationship. Not two people who are thrown together because of greed and deceptiveness.

  “Why couldn’t you’ve been real, baby? Why did you have to do this to me? Make me feel something after so long only to have it ripped away in a heartbeat?” He’s babbling, confusing me with every word. At first, I think he’s talking directly to me, but there are parts I think are meant for someone else. “Did I pass your little test?” he asks. But in the very next second, he switches his pleas, begging for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it, any of it. Please, give me a chance to take it back. Please.”

  “What are you talking about, Drayden?” I yank his hair, pulling his lips away from me so I can look into his eyes and see if he’s even here with me. He isn’t. His look is glazed over and he continues to mumble incoherently.

  “Please, forgive me.” He leans down and kisses me again, but this time it’s a bit more aggressive. When I try to push him off me, he jerks my hands up and pins them above my head, continuing his assault on my bruised lips.

  “Drayden!” I scream as loud as I can. I have to get his attention back on me, back in the present. If he’s drifting off someplace in the past, then I won’t be able to reach him or reason with him.

  He looks down at me, shaking his head as if he’s thrown back into a very confusing situation. Staring down at me, watching me struggle underneath him is enough to get him to stop whatever he’s planning. He must be even more drunk than either one of us realizes. He releases his hold on me and gets off the bed, leaving me both relieved and frustrated.

  I’m not sure what I feel for the man who is holding me against my will. Yes, I’m crazily attracted to him, but I can’t trust him. But it’s nothing new; I can’t trust anyone but myself, and even that’s a little sketchy.

  He throws on his pants as quickly as he can, turns toward me to give me one last look and hurries out the door, locking it behind him as usual.

  What the fuck just happened?

  { Chapter 9 }

  The next morning, I’m stunned to see Drayden milling about inside my bathroom, almost as if he’s taking inventory of my essentials. As he makes his way back out to the bedroom, he stops dead when he sees I’m watching him.

  “What?” he snaps at me, pressing his forefingers along his temple. He’s quite the sight. While he’s dressed in a sharp, dark-grey suit, he looks like a man who didn’t get much sleep the night before. His eyes are red and swollen and he didn’t even bother to shave this morning, only adding to his haggard appearance.

  It doesn’t take a genius to see he indeed has a wicked hangover.

  I can’t help myself—ever the pushy bitch.

  “Something wrong? Do you have a headache, sweetheart?”

  He looks confused. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because of how much you tied one on last night. And while we’re on that subject, don’t ever come into my room drunk again.”

  His movements are so quick he’s near me before I’m able to take my next breath. His face tells me everything in that moment. He has no idea what I’m talking about. He doesn’t remember anything which happened between us. And he probably doesn’t remember anything he said, either.

  It seems like I have the upper hand this time.

  “What are you talking about, Essie? I wasn’t in here last night. Why are you making up stories?” He’s becoming more and more agitated, the blinding headache no help at all, I’m sure.

  “Uh, yes, you were. You mentioned something about an accident and not being able to have kids, then you stripped down naked and tried to fuck me.” I’m trying my hardest to contain the glee I feel because of his ignorance.

  I get up and start to push past him, nature calling and all. But I don’t get very far. He grips me up, like he obviously likes to do, and halts my escape. “Who told you about the accident?” He shakes me. “Tell me right now. I swear to God, Essie, if you don’t stop messing with me…”

  “You told me. You’re the one who sat in that chair over there and told me there was a lot of damage in the accident, and the doctors told you the chances of you having kids are one in a million.”

  “You’re lying.” He shakes his head, as if it’s going to make everything I just said go away. “You’re a Goddamn liar.”

  “Believe what you want, Drayden; I really don’t care. But if I know anything about you, I know you probably have security cameras all over this huge house of yours, this bedroom being no exception. So why don’t you go and check the footage. You’ll see you came in my room late at night and that I’m telling you the truth.”

  He releases me, takes a moment to compose himself and makes his way back toward the door. Before he yanks on the handle, he leaves me with one more tidbit of information, something I’ve been waiting to hear for some time now. “There are three pregnancy tests in the bathroom. Take all of them. It’s been three weeks. If you are knocked up, something should show up by now. I’ll send someone back around to collect them.” He disappears, leaving me feeling like I’m nothing more than an annoyance. Someone who has to be tolerated and dealt with accordingly.

  Someone who has no value.

  It has all come to this moment. The moment of truth. My life is either going to change or remain the same.

  I’m not quite sure which one I prefer at this point.

  { Chapter 10 }

  I have to be dreaming. Please, someone wake me up from this nightmare.

  No. No. No.

  All three tests are staring back at me, taunting me with my new reality. They’re laughing at me, mocking me.

  Frightening me.

  I’m pregnant.

  Shit! There isn’t a damn thing I can do about it, either. If I was on the outside, I would find the money to take care of it. I’m realistic enough to know bringing a child into this fucked-up world is, by all rights, child abuse. I never want a child to grow up the way I did. To have those horrible things happen to him or her is unthinkable. Plus the fact I’m in no position to ever take care of a child. But here, behind these enclosed walls, I have no choice. He’s never going to let me go now. Once he finds out for sure it’s his child, and it is because I haven’t s
lept with anyone in quite some time, he’ll never release me. Not until after I give birth, anyway.

  I saw the look in his eyes last night when he was confessing to me about not being able to have children. There was a look of quiet desperation, as if he dared not even dream about the possibility. That the hope of something so unreachable was nothing but a waste of time.

  I know in my heart he’ll want this child, at any cost.

  My sporadic thought process is interrupted when the door opens and in steps crew-cut guy. While I still don’t know his name, I know exactly why he’s here, so I run to the bathroom to hide the evidence, even though I know it’s no use. I can’t flush them down the toilet.

  Can I?

  I think he knows exactly where my head is because he beats me to it. He crosses the threshold of the private room, collects the evidence and leaves, locking the door on his way out.

  He must pay his employees a lot to keep their mouths shut. Damn him. It’s the first time I despise the fact that he has money at his disposal.

  I pace back and forth all day, extending my nervousness well into the evening. I’m about to retire for the night when the door flings open, a pissed-off Drayden standing in the doorway.

  “Well, well, well. Look at what the all-wonderful Essie pulled off that no one else could. She went and caught herself the biggest prize of all.” He doesn’t move from the doorway; I don’t think he trusts himself enough to come in closer. “Are you satisfied?”

  Is he for real? How can he think I want this? Well, I can see how he would think it in all honesty, but still. This is the last thing I wanted to happen. “No!” I shout. “I never wanted this to happen. Ever!” I’m getting all worked up again, feeling my flesh start to heat. He must see it, too, because he comes right at me.

  “Calm the hell down, Essie,” he says curtly. “No dramatics are needed anymore. You got what you wanted.” He starts pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in the carpet. His hands are tucked into his suit pants, clenching to try and relieve some of his anger. His shirt sleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. Taking a better look at him, he seems all-over disheveled. I’m sure this news throws a wrench in his plans for me. I’m sure he was expecting all three tests to come back negative, only leaving him with the simple decision of what to do with me next. How to get me out of his life for good. Now, he’s stuck with me for at least the next nine months.