by Rene Webb
Kissing me again gently, I barely register that one of his hands has moved down my body until his finger comes into contact with my clit. I jerk away, ending the kiss and placing my hands on his shoulders attempting to push him away. “Don’t, it really hurts,” I tell him firmly for the first time since we met.
“I know, Princess,” he says softly, nuzzling our noses together in a confusing sign of affection. “I’m only going to tease your clit. You deserve another orgasm.”
The man then proceeds to slowly kiss me, his lips moving against my mouth in the same rhythm his fingers are gently dancing against my clit. It doesn’t take long before my arms are wrapping themselves around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as I moan with pleasure. Breaking the kiss, I gasp for breath as I come, my hips bucking against his never-ceasing touch.
“I’ve never had anyone as responsive as you.” He smiles down, seemingly satisfied with what he’s just done, but I don’t know whether to take his statement as a compliment or not.
I make no reply.
The man glides his hand up my body and cups my breast, squeezing it and thumbing my nipple. His mouth descends, replacing his thumb, drawing it into his mouth and sparking sensations throughout my body. I find my hands have migrated into his hair, unconsciously encouraging him to continue. He lets go with a sucking pop, looking up at me and states breathlessly, “You have amazing breasts, I can’t keep my hands—my mouth—off of them.”
“Thank you,” I reply stupidly, giving him a shy smile, shaking my head in an attempt to lift the fog he keeps putting me under with his very touch.
“No. Thank you, Princess.” He smiles down at me, finally pulling himself fully away. I roll on my side and grab my pillow as I watch him get off the bed. I find that I enjoy the view of his naked and toned body, the narrowness of his waist, the firmness of his backside, the broad cock dangling between his legs, and his strong thighs. I can’t help but stare at the man’s gorgeous body.
He turns back to me and, smiling, he smacks my backside lightly, ordering, “Get up. We’re taking a quick shower.”
“Okay,” I say softly, sitting up. I take hold of the hand he’s extended my way, and let him lead me into the bathroom.
The entire time I’ve been with this man, I have tried hard not to think about our time ending and what that would mean for me. Yes, he’s been demanding and forceful, but he’s also been considerate, kind, and oddly gentle. Since this whole dark nightmare started, he has been the only sliver of light—of hope.
I find myself wondering again if I asked would he take me with him? Would he help me escape? And if so, do I really want to put myself at his mercy?
Chapter Seventeen
~ Finn ~
“In you go,” I tell her, gently patting her gorgeous ass. Lily steps into the steaming shower and sighs audibly as the hot water hits her body. Hopefully relaxing her.
I step in behind her and, palming her shapely hips, move her over from where she’s hogging the spray.
“This feels so good,” she mutters to herself. I chuckle at her sighs of pleasure. This woman is not only amazingly responsive, but also wonderfully easy to please.
Perfect.
“All right, let’s get you cleaned up.” I take hold of the handheld sprayer and direct the water at her dripping cunt. Lily jumps back in shock and quickly snatches the sprayer out of my hand.
“I can do it myself,” she snaps, momentarily surprising me by intentionally directing the sprayer into my face.
I quickly recover and grab the sprayer back, grinning.
“Behave yourself,” I admonish, shaking my head, immensely enjoying the obvious trust she has in me. I plan on building on that trust, on our relationship, once we leave. Lily may not realize this yet, but I have no plans to let her go. She’s mine.
Grabbing the small washcloth I had brought into the shower with us, I wet and soap it up.
“Now spread your legs so I can see what I’m doing. I expect my women to keep their cunts clean.”
“Why?” Lily asks as she complies and widens her stance.
“I want to be able to eat you out whenever I fucking want to,” I answer truthfully, squatting down behind her and running the warm soapy washcloth along the inside of her thighs.
Not all men enjoy giving oral sex, but I find a woman is never more vulnerable than when you have your mouth on their cunt. When you’re sucking, licking, and nibbling on their sensitive flesh. I will admit, some women don’t taste as good as others. Body chemistry and diet all factor into it. I could eat my princess forever.
I feel Lily relax under my ministrations. Gently parting the folds of her cunt and wiping them with the cloth, I make sure she’s thoroughly cleaned.
Standing up, I brush her long hair aside and kiss the back of her neck. “You’re all clean and good enough to eat.”
“I’m starving,” she admits softly.
“Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll feed you,” I promise her, stepping underneath the spray to quickly rinse off. Lily’s eyes bore into my body as she stands there adorably half-asleep and relaxed with pleasure. All I want to do is toss her into bed and fall back asleep with her curled up safe in my arms.
Once we make it back to the hotel, I’ll order us both a large breakfast. While she relaxes and has her fill, I’ll come up with a plan for getting her out of the country.
Pounding on the bedroom door shakes me back into reality, and renewed anger courses through me. I throw open the glass door of the shower, making it rattle in the frame. I quickly grab a towel and wrap it around my waist, before stomping back into the bedroom.
“What’s going on?” I hear Lily’s nervous voice and rapid footsteps as she follows.
The loud pounding on the door continues, followed by a heavily accented voice calling out, “Mr., time up, you go now. Car outside take you to hotel.”
I throw open the door, and one of the house’s footmen jumps back, startled.
“My time is up when I say it is,” I growl before slamming the door closed in the little man’s face.
“What’s going on?” Lily asks again, her voice cracking with obvious fright. She runs over and grabs my wrist, gripping it tightly. “Please don’t leave me here,” she begs with tears glistening in her eyes.
Wrapping my free hand around the back of her neck, I pull her roughly forward, touching our foreheads together. I can feel her anxious breath coming out in pants on my face. Anger at her fear swells through me.
Chapter Eighteen
~ Lily ~
“Don’t worry, Princess. There’s no fucking way I’m leaving here without you.” His voice is firm and resolute. All I can do is nod my head in understanding. I’m finally able to expel the breath I hadn’t known I was holding. “Now get dressed.”
I look around to find my discarded bra, skirt, corset, and torn thong, a lost cause, folded neatly on the table. I pick up the skirt only to have it torn from my hand. The man hands me his discarded boxers and dress shirt. “Put these on.”
“Thank you.”
Thinking about the man going commando underneath his tailored dress pants, I can’t help but grin as I step into his boxers.
“Don’t worry, Trevor will have proper clothing for you when we get to the hotel.”
I nod my head, wondering who the hell Trevor is and how he would know to have clothing for me. Nervously, I begin to wonder again who this man is and if he was involved in my kidnapping.
Taking his shirt, I do up all the buttons, roll up the sleeves, and tuck the tails into the boxers, rolling the waistband to make them stay on. I pull out the shirt slightly, and I try to make myself look somewhat put together. At least I don’t feel too naked. I grab my strappy sandaled heels that are on the floor by the table, and sitting on the chair, quickly put them on. My wet hair is a hopeless mess. I quickly towel dry it and attempt to comb it with my fingers, before twisting it into a long ponytail.
I look over to see the man dressed, wearing his t-shi
rt under his suit jacket. His blood-red tie dangles out from the breast pocket. He is tearing the room apart looking for who knows what. Turning over lamps, looking underneath tables, and standing on chairs to look in air vents.
“How are we going to leave?” I wonder out loud; how he will possibly take me with him.
“Through the fucking front door. Now come.” I quickly move toward him, unsure of how I should feel. Should I be excited to be escaping this nightmare I’d somehow found myself in? Or was I entering into another?
When I’m within touching distance, he grabs hold of my arm and wrenches the door open with his other hand. The footman is still standing there. The man pushes past him, pulling me along, and I’m awkwardly forced to follow his long strides.
“You can’t take her,” the footman sputters from behind, chasing after us.
“Yes, I can,” the man states resolutely, not even bothering to stop and address the little man directly.
We are soon making our way down the grand staircase and into the lobby. There we are met by the overseer and are forced to stop.
“Sir, I am sorry, but you cannot take her. I get you more experienced girl, you like better. On the house.” The overseer tries to placate the man, and I take a deep breath, fearful of what his response will be.
“No,” he states, and I relax as he pulls me closer to his side.
“Sir, I have very important client coming. I keep her here for him as special favor. I only let you have her because he wanted her used before he arrived.”
As the overseer unwittingly answers the question that has been circling my mind all night, I feel much more confidant leaving with this man finally knowing for sure that he was no way involved in my kidnapping.
“My other clients do not want to fuck girls like her, they get them free at home. He come soon for her, so now you must go,” the overseer continues.
“Who is your client?” The man growls out his question.
The lobby is beginning to fill with other men, girls, and the hired muscle of the house. The ones who laughed as they beat me. I shudder at the sight of them and inch my way closer toward the man.
“What’s going on?” the man’s pudgy friend asks loudly in French, stepping forward as he disentangles himself from one of the women.
“She is not here by choice. So I’m taking her home,” my man responds in the same language, and the other scowls angrily, nodding his head slightly in understanding.
“Who?” he demands loudly of the overseer, returning to English.
“Sir, I can’t tell you,” the overseer replies haughtily.
I gasp in fright as the overseer reaches behind his back and takes out a gun from the waistband of his pants and points it at the man, saying, “Step away from girl and leave. Driver take you to hotel, you not welcome back.”
“No,” the man says lazily, taking one large step forward and disarming the overseer by executing a move straight out of a Jason Bourne film, where suddenly he’s now holding the gun. I’m not even sure if Matt Damon could have performed such a perfect move. The rest of the room collectively gasps, while I exhale the breath I’ve been holding.
Suddenly the house’s muscle all pull out their weapons. It’s now my turn to gasp in fright as they point them at us. I stand there stupidly, wanting to do something but completely at a loss as to what.
The man moves his hand to the back of my neck and whispers in my ear, “Trust me.” No sooner than his words have registered, I feel the gun pressed against my temple.
“Oh God, please don’t,” I cry out in shock, and my knees begin to weaken. I shake with fright.
“Who is your client?” the man asks the overseer coolly, his grip tightening on the back of my neck almost painfully, but all I can feel is the cold metal of the gun against my skin.
“Sir, I can’t tell you,” the overseer repeats, growing impatient.
“The girl won’t be any use to him dead, will she?” the man taunts, unrelenting in his faceoff with the room, which has begun to fill with nervous whispers.
Standing there with false bravado, the overseer answers him saying, “Mayer. James Mayer.”
I gasp in horror at recognition of the name. Suddenly my vision becomes blurry with the shock. I almost miss seeing the man taking a step forward and backhanding the overseer with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious to the ground.
“We’re leaving,” he states firmly to the room at large.
I am barely aware of the shouting both in English and Mandarin that follow the man’s pronouncement. Several of the women rush forward toward the overseer, and the man’s pudgy French-speaking friend steps around from behind us and hisses loudly, “Go,” before he turns back toward the crowd and enters the confusion.
The man grabs my arm, and no one makes a move to stop us as we back our way out of the already open door. To freedom?
I stumble on my heels as we quickly make our way down the cracking cement driveway, under the locked gate, and into the bustling street beyond. The man pauses momentarily to look right and then left before deciding we should head to the left. With his hand still firmly around my arm, he pulls me quickly down the block. I go blindly, in a daze and unaware of my surroundings. I barely register the clang as the man tosses the gun into a trash bin as we pass. We are several blocks away when we hear shouting behind us. I don’t have to look to know that the muscle from the house has finally decided to pursue us—most likely after the overseer regained consciousness. They are followers and aren’t the type that thinks for themselves. They do what they are told to do, nothing more.
“Fuck,” I hear him mutter as we quicken our pace. If it weren’t for the man’s hold of my arm, practically dragging me along, I would’ve fallen over attempting to run in these useless pair of shoes.
Although the streets are fairly crowded, we don’t exactly blend into the population. The man is a head taller than most, and they’ll quickly be able to pick us out in a crowd.
“You should’ve kept the gun,” I argue as we hear them quickly approaching on foot.
“I’d rather not get arrested on a weapons charge,” he mutters angrily. “I have no desire to see the inside of a Hong Kong prison.”
“It’d be better than going back there,” I reply as he steers us toward the edge of the sidewalk, and I realize there’s a bus pulling up just ahead.
Turning my head slightly, I also see a black car quickly weaving through traffic and coming toward us.
“Get on.” He pushes me in front of him up the stairs and into the already crowded bus. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me further inside, no doubt attempting to hide us in the crush of commuters.
Once the bus has begun moving through the busy streets, the man turns my body to face his. There are anxious whispers all around us as he fists the back of my hair and tilts my head back and asks angrily, “Why would your stepfather have you kidnapped and brought to a Hong Kong brothel?”
I gasp, my eyes wide at the knowledge that he knows exactly who I am. That he’s known the entire time we were together! “You know who I am?”
“Yes, now answer the question, Lily,” he shakes my head with unnecessary roughness.
“How the fuck should I know? I didn’t fucking ask to be kidnapped,” I snap back angrily as I smack his chest with my fists. “Did you know I was there?”
“No,” he snaps. “If I had, I would have fucking come and gotten you sooner. Trust me, I’ll be having words with Peter about that. Now answer the fucking question.”
“Peter knew?” I squeak out as the feelings of betrayal wrap around my chest in a tight band. Peter is, was, my favorite cousin and the closest thing I have to a sibling.
Tears are now freely running down my face. I barely register the stinging smack to my ass through the tightening of my chest. My heart seizes as feelings of betrayal and helplessness begin to set in. The question why keeps circling around in my thoughts. The word getting louder and louder in my head as the seconds sl
owly tick by.
I can’t fathom an explanation as to why James would do such a thing. The man had been my father’s best friend and business partner, who’d seemed to fall in love with my mother over the years of helping her cope with my father’s sudden death. He’s always supported me in my choice of advertising as a career over business, despite my mother’s hope I’d eventually fill my father’s shoes at MacKay International. James had also been the one to encourage me to spend the semester abroad.
I shiver with disgust as what the overseer implied begins to register, what James had planned to do with me. He’s always been so kind and never gives me any unwanted or creepy attention. Unlike some of my parent’s other business acquaintances, his eyes never roam my body, and he doesn’t take an opportunity to touch me.
I’m bumped and jostled on the crowded bus as it sways zigzag through the city. Up until now, I’ve never had a panic attack in my life. But my chest continues to tighten as reality finally settles in. Before I know it, I’m shaking and gasping for breath.
“Breathe,” the man’s gentle voice says in my ear. One hand moves along my back in a soothing, steady rhythm, and the other gently forces me to rest my head against his hard chest. My arms automatically wrap themselves around him, anchoring myself to the present. I can hear the faint rush of traffic and the whispers of the other commuters surrounding us.
“Take a deep breath in, Princess,” his voice directs me calmly. “Now let it out slowly. That’s a good girl. Now another, take a deep breath in, and slowly exhale.”
The man soon has me breathing easier again, and the tightness in my chest recedes slightly.
“Why?” My voice cracks as I attempt in vain to hold back the tears.
“I don’t know, Princess. But don’t worry, I won’t let that fucking bastard get anywhere near you. I promise, Lily, Mayer will pay for what he’s done,” the man states emphatically, wrapping me up tighter in his arms and resting his cheek on the top of my head.