by Emily Bishop
She lets her neck loosen and her arms slide up and over my shoulders from behind.. She coos like a fucking dove and my flawless self-control wobbles and crashes onto its side.
I kiss her hard, opening her lips with my tongue, taking her mouth with mine. Finally. I sink into her mouth and exhale hard through my nose. Even her saliva is sweet. Dear God, don’t let me accidentally pulverize this innocent woman.
I tangle my hand in her hairband and rip it loose, burying fingers in Sabrina’s dark copper hair. Something about her is so mysterious, so fragile and sweet—I’ve been dying to touch her. I’ve been dying to crush this rare rosebud between my palms and tracing her body with my hands and my lips, finding the fractures, sewing her back together with my kisses.
I grip at the tender nape of Sabrina’s neck and send a shudder through her system. A moan comes trembling out of her mouth.
“Yes, baby,” I encourage her gently. I’m throbbing so hard, her magnificent pussy is all I can think about. If I can’t have her here and now, it might kill me.
We are still braced together in this deep squat, my hand pumping lazily over her pussy through her workout pants, when she whispers, “This is a mistake.” Her eyes are dire, like she has to tell me right now. She pulls to a stand and takes her soft, fragrant hair with her, her sweet mouth with her. “You don’t really know me yet, Randall. I’ve got secrets, Randall. I’ve got . . . scars.”
“Let me see them,” I rumble against her ear, my hands still sliding over her body from behind.
“My scars?” Her eyes gaze up at me uncertainly, dark with worry.
I tug her tank top over her head and take a step back to run my palms over her body. I survey deep brown lashes. I exhale loudly and pull her to me, pressing my mouth to one of her scars.
“Randall.” Her lower lip quivers as it spills from her mouth and my dick threatens to split the seam on my pants. I want her so badly. I want to fix whatever happened to her . . . and maybe she can fix what has happened to me, too. Maybe, if I was deep inside her, we would start to heal a little bit.
“Randall,” she breathes. I love it.
Sabrina seems almost drugged by her own arousal, and heck, that’s how I feel too. I feel crazy. This could never, in a million years, really be happening, but here we are.
“Let me help you cool down,” I tell Sabrina, collecting her and stretching her out on the bench press. I position her heels on my shoulders and slowly press into her hips, driving down on top of her, legs between us. The smell of her sweat and of her skin is overwhelming, and when I get close enough, her cleavage swells against my face. “God damnit, you’re too young for me,” I groan.
“Don’t tell me what I am,” Sabrina told me. Tiny beads of sweat dot her breasts. I forget about helping her cool down at all and I come down as far as I can, tongue fanning between her sweet tits, collecting every drop. Sabrina whimpers and grinds against me. “I’m a grown-ass woman,” she assures me breathlessly. “I get horny just like everyone else, and I’m trapped in this house, Randall—just you and me.” Her voice falls to a whisper and she curls up close to my ear to say, “Fuck me, Randall.”
“I thought I didn’t know you yet,” I remind her, pulling off her legs and coming to a complete stand. I yank my own tank top over my head, the gym lights splashing over every curve and dent in my body. I see the way she tracks me with her eyes. I see the way they move over my entire body. She wants me. She has wanted me since the day she slammed into me, running from absolutely no one. She can’t deny it.
“You don’t,” Sabrina agreed. “But I need you.”
I reach for her and tuck my fingers into the waistband on her compression pants, dragging them off her nubile hips and tossing them overhead. My intentions must be clear now; her pussy is laying in front of me like an entrée.
“I like this position,” I note, nestling down between her legs again. “I like being able to hold you tight as hell. I don’t know why.”
“I like it too,” Sabrina whispers back, and I lock my arms around the tops of her thighs, controlling her ability to buck her hips. I split her wide and slather my tongue along her rosy folds, strengthening into a point as I reached the top and flicked her tip repeatedly. She writhes and whimpers but I ignore her. I’m not going to stop until she’s pushing me off of her. I lean down and flatten my tongue, sending it from the bottom to the top. She tastes so good, like milk and honey. I think I’m falling in love.
“Randall,” Sabrina calls me. “Randall! We can’t do this. It’s against the contract. I’m going to lose my job if anyone finds—” I flick her clit with my tongue as hard as I can. I lick her like I’m slowly eating her, nibbling and sucking. I sink my fingers into her. Common sense eludes me. I have to make her come. There’s no other thought in my head. “If anyone finds out—Randall—Randall—”
She bucks hard against my forearms and I pin her hips to the mattress, but she still grinds on my face. I love it.
“Randall—” Her voice is desperate for me to stop, but she doesn’t want me to stop. Even as she begs, her fingers are in my hair, pressing my face into her pussy. “RANDALL!”
***
I wake up, my eyes flying open and staring at the ceiling, my chest heaving as I gasp for air.
For a while, I lie there, waiting for the cobwebs of sleep to fade from my mind as I catch my breath, then I sit up, which is when I feel the bulge between my legs.
Fuck. I’m hard as a rock.
Usually, it’s a normal reaction, a consequence of waking up, but this time, I know it’s not. It’s the consequence of that dream I had, that dream of Sabrina. We were doing squats together in the gym and she let me see her scars. She said that she would get fired if we did anything, and I buried my mouth against her clit and she let me. She loved it. She needed it.
Just remembering that dream makes me harder, my erection throbbing.
Why? Why did I dream of eating her out?
No. I know the answer to that one. It’s because I fell asleep wanting to. The real question is: Why did I have to wake up before I came?
Even more importantly, what do I do now? Do I go to the bathroom and relieve myself or calm myself down?
The former is tempting, especially with the feeling of having sex with Sabrina still fresh in my mind, but I decide on the latter since I’m suddenly feeling thirsty.
After a few minutes, I get out of my room to head downstairs to the kitchen. On the way, I stop, though, hearing strange sounds from Sabrina’s room.
Are those moans? Is she having a naughty dream, too?
Curious, I press my ear against her bedroom door, only to frown as I realize the sounds aren’t moans. They’re sobs. They’re frightened sobs, which only confirm my theory that she must have gone through something painful before she came here.
She may be smiling and laughing but she’s hiding something – a burden she doesn’t want to share, a memory she doesn’t want to relive, a scar bigger than the ones on her back.
What nightmare did you go through, Sabrina?
Haunted
Sabrina
I walk through the gardens, yawning. Somehow, I couldn’t go back to sleep after having another nightmare.
That nightmare.
The one where I’m locked in a room inside Vince’s house, a room with no doors or windows or any piece of furniture, and I can’t escape no matter how much I try to smash the walls or claw at them.
Just when I’ve had a happy day, just when something’s gone right, just when I feel like I’m finally putting the pieces of myself back together, the nightmare comes back.
No matter what I do, I just can’t shake it off.
But of course, I can’t. After all, that nightmare isn’t over. The fear is real. Right now, I’m safe and at peace here with David and Randall but any moment, that could shatter. Any moment, Vince can find me and drag me back to his mansion. And who knows? Maybe this time, he really will lock me up in a room that has no doors or windows.
Why does he want to have me and keep me so badly when he doesn’t care about me? I don’t know.
I know that when I was staying at Carol’s house, I did some research on him, and I found two intriguing news articles: Vince’s mother reportedly beat him up when he was a kid, and there was another woman who claimed Vince locked her up and abused her. She escaped just like me, but a few months later, she was found dead. She hanged herself.
This tells me two things: I’m not the only woman Vince has tried to toy with, and Vince is mentally unstable. No sane person would do what he did to me.
I should report him to the police. If I had a guarantee that it would put him in jail, I would have already done it. But I don’t. I don’t have any proof of what he did. I escaped with nothing. It’s my word against his and I don’t stand a chance. Vince is filthy rich with a lot of friends in high places.
No. If I go to the police, I might as well be handing myself back to Vince.
I can only hide from him.
So I’ll stay within these high walls, hoping that he will never find me. Because if he does, I’d rather die than go back to that hellhole.
Seeing the bed of roses, I stop, bending over to smell one.
This morning, Randall gave me a bunch of freshly picked roses. He didn’t say why. He just said that he hoped I had a great day.
That was sweet of him. Considering the nightmare I had, I could sure use a great day, maybe one even better than yesterday.
It’s a good thing that it’s illegal for Randall and I to be together. If it was possible—I’d waste a lot of my time fantasizing about him.
I look up at the sky, smiling as I remember the conversations David and I shared, both before and after dinner. For once, he finally opened up to me even though I have one challenge left to accomplish. For once, I felt like we could really see each other, that I could really reach him.
He’s starting to trust me. All that’s left is for him to like me.
Just then, Zombie comes up to me and I kneel to pet him. “See. Your master isn’t so bad. I think I’m finally getting to understand him.”
Zombie sits down.
“We’re going to help him become a better, happier boy, won’t we?”
I keep petting his soft, black fur, only stopping when I hear footsteps approaching. I stand up and moments later, I see Lucy.
“Lucy,” I greet her.
“Thank goodness I’ve found you, Sabrina,” she says, putting her hands on her knees as she catches her breath.
I go to her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She straightens up. “There’s just someone to see you.”
“To see me?”
I feel confused. Who would want to see me? Besides, I thought Stargazers didn’t allow its nannies to have guests.
“She said her name is Carol Fisher. I asked Tess if she could see you, since Mr. Brewster seems to be busy and Tess said it’s fine since she was the one who sent you here.”
“Yes, she is.” I nod. “She’s the head of the agency I belong to.”
“Oh.”
Still, I wonder why she’s here. Is it routine for her to check on new nannies during their first week? Maybe. I didn’t ask. At any rate, I should go see her. I mustn’t keep her waiting.
“Where is she?” I ask Lucy as I head back to the house, starting to sprint.
“In the library.”
***
“Sabrina!” Carol places her arms around me after I enter the library.
“Carol,” I greet her, hugging her back. “It’s good to see you again.”
The first time I saw Carol again, two months ago, I barely recognized her, yet I just had to spend a little time with her to know that she’s still every bit the Carol I knew back in middle school – competitive but caring, motherly if not protective, only older, taller, more beautiful and richer.
We sit on the couch.
“Tell me, how are things?” Carol asks.
So, she is here to check on me.
“Good,” I tell her. “The child is finally warming up to me, and Mr. Brewster is very kind.”
“I see.”
She frowns, falling silent.
I touch her hand. “Why? What’s wrong? I’m doing well, right?”
“Yes, you are.” She places my hand in both of hers. “You’re doing much better than I’d hoped and you seem like you’re happy here, which is why it pains me to tell you that you might have to leave.”
“Leave?” I feel terribly confused.
But I only arrived a few days ago.
“Did Ra… Mr. Brewster complain about me?” I ask, that reason the first thing that comes to mind. How could they have possibly known? “Have I done something wrong?”
“No.” Carol shakes her head. “Mr. Brewster hasn’t called me at all, and I’m sure he has no reason to. You’ve done everything you should as you should.”
“Then why?”
I can’t think of any other reason.
“Because I have some bad news.”
I stiffen, my confusion instantly turning into fear. “What bad news?”
“You know my brother works at the Houston PD, don’t you?”
“Yes. You told me.”
“Well, he told me that yesterday, someone dropped by looking for Savannah Brown.”
I tense all the more, my heart pounding.
She lowers her voice. “That was the name you were using when you were singing, right?”
I nod.
“Of course, it could be another Savannah Brown but something tells me this man was looking for you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “What did the man say about me?”
“Just that you had ran away. Benny’s colleague asked the man if he wanted to file a missing persons report but he didn’t. He said he’d find Savannah Brown himself.”
I suppress a shudder. “He’s here. One of Vince’s men is here, which means Vince knows I’m here.” The walls start to close in around me. “He could be anywhere.”
“Nonsense,” Carol says. “He’s not superhuman.”
Maybe, but that isn’t as comforting as she thinks it is.
“Something happened this morning,” Carol adds. .”
“Oh?”
Carol takes a deep breath. “My computer was hacked just a while ago. I came here to tell you as soon as I could.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what information the person was able to get but you know your current address is in my files.”
I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Shit.”
“I know your name on my files isn’t Savannah Brown and your photo is different. Even so…”
“He knows.” I stand up and start pacing. “He knows I’m here, and he’s coming to get me. He…”
“Sabrina.” Carol grabs my hand. “We’re not sure what he got, okay? We’re not sure it’s the same guy.”
“Oh, come on, Carol,” I snap. “You know Vince! Of course it’s the same guy!”
Carol nods sadly. “It’s a possibility.”
No. It’s not a possibility. It’s very likely.
“I can’t stay here.”
“Yes, you can. You’re safe here. If they come after you here, Mr. Brewster can have them arrested.”
“Or they can harm Mr. Brewster and David,” I tell her. “You don’t know what Vince is capable of. I have to leave. Isn’t that what you came to tell me?”
“I told you that you might have to leave but that’s up to you. I only came to warn you.”
“I’m warned and I’m leaving.”
“Now? I can’t bring you to my house since they already know I might know you, but I can drop you off somewhere. I can talk to Mr. Brewster if you like.”
“What will you tell him?” I ask out of curiosity.
She shrugs. “That you have a really sick relative?”
Something tells me Randall isn’t going to believe that. In fact, something tells me he’s not
going to let me leave, which means I have to leave in secret.
“So are you leaving with me?” Carol asks.
“No,” I tell Carol. “I’ll sneak out tonight. If Vince knows I’m here, he’ll come and get me himself. That gives me a bit of time.”
She nods. “Okay. You do that. Don’t worry about Mr. Brewster. I’ll explain things to him tomorrow and get him a new nanny immediately.”
A new nanny? The thought makes my heart sink.
David and I have only just begun to get to know each other. We’ve already begun. And now I have to leave.
But I have no choice. Maybe I should never have come here. I should never have hoped I could be safe or happy.
My time here was just a dream, a dream I didn’t deserve to have. Now, I have to wake up and face reality once more, even though it’s a nightmare.
That’s all there is to it.
Suspicion
Randall
“That’s all?” I stare at the report on my screen in dismay as I speak to Gil.
I’m looking at the background check he made on Sabrina and it doesn’t say much. All it says is that Sabrina was born in Akron, Ohio, but after her parents died in a car accident when she was two, she was taken in by her aunt and uncle who lived in West Farmington, then she went to the Bristol local school district from kindergarten to high school. It also says she got into Youngstown State on a scholarship and had good grades during her first year but dropped out. The report doesn’t say anything about what happened after, which is what I’m interested in.
“Do you want me to dig deeper?” Gil asks. “Because I still can.”
“Yes,” I tell him without hesitation. “I’m particularly interested in finding out what she’s been doing for the past three years.”
“Well, you could have told me that at the start.”
“Sorry. I just thought it would come up.”
I guess I should have known it wouldn’t. Whatever Sabrina’s hiding, she’s hiding it well and I’m just as interested in finding out what as I am in finding out why.