Twisted Desire

by Laura Dunaway

  He must have seen the confusion on my face. “I’m telling you that you are safe with me, Penny. If anyone tries to hurt you, they’ll have to get through me first, which won’t happen.”

  My heart thudded at his words and warmed over. He wasn’t trying to warn me to behave; he wanted to reassure me he would protect me. I grabbed a strand of my long hair and started twisting it around my finger again. I looked into his eyes and said the only thing I could at the moment.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and stood up, pushing his chair back. “I need to go do some things, one being to bring you your dinner. I’ll be back.” With that, he turned and walked out the door, never looking back at me.

  I listened as his footsteps faded as he walked down the hall, and I clutched onto my pillow, holding it like it was a warm body pressed up against mine. I couldn’t deny that I wished it were him instead. His soft touch against my cheek and lower lip, and the way his warm breath felt on my ear, it turned something on inside that I knew would refuse to turn off. I really was going crazy out here in the middle of nowhere to want the man holding me hostage to wrap me in his arms and hold me. I sighed as I thought about the stubble on his chin, his hazel eyes that took on a glow when he looked at me, and his long, strong fingers that sent shocks through me when they touched me.

  A week or so later, I was in my room sketching. True to his word, Tag had brought me a sketchpad and a few pencils. They weren’t fantastic, but were better than nothing. I had sketched so many new ideas; my room was getting cluttered with paper. I did my best not to get down about the fact I may never fulfill my dream of being a fashion designer, that I may never get off the boat, but there were times I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

  One fell onto the drawing I was working on, and I swore, wiping it away with the flick of my wrist. I had so many ideas, so many dreams, and for what? Just to be kidnapped and sent on a boat with no explanation? I knew I would literally go insane before long.

  Suddenly the need to get out of my room was overwhelming. Tag said he had to go to a meeting and would be back, but I couldn’t wait. I had to get out and walk around.

  I reached the door and unlocked it. He’d never given me a key to lock it because he never thought I’d do something like this, which until now, I never wanted to. But hell, if I was stuck on this yacht, I was going to check it out and get out of my hole for a few minutes.

  Shutting the door, I looked around and decided to turn left. I didn’t have any shoes on, so it was easy to be silent with my bare feet. Making mental notes of where my room was, I turned down a corridor and saw sunlight at the end, indicating a door leading outside to the deck.

  I reached it and was tempted to push it open, to go out and look over the railing, but decided against it. I may have some balls as Tag said, but not much. It was enough that I left my room without Tag.

  I looked around and decided to head down the hall, which led to a staircase. Tempted to just return to my room, my mind was changed when I suddenly heard voices. My eyes grew wide with fear as my head turned back and forth, trying to see where I could hide.

  Not seeing any other option, I flew down the staircase and just ran. As I turned a corner, I ran into something hard and fell back on my butt. Pushing the hair out of my eyes, I looked up, and to my horror, saw Rico smiling down at me, his eyes turned into slits.

  “Well, well, well,” he said in his creepy-high, squeaky voice. “Penelope Santoro, what are you doing here? Do I have a potential escapee on my hands?”

  He lowered to his haunches, his evil grin wider. I scooted away from him, fear clawing at my throat. How the hell was I going to get out of this?

  “Oh, now, now,” he chimed. “No need to back away from me. I’m not going to hurt you, love.” He inched closer to me, the smirk on his face telling me otherwise.

  “I need to get back to my room,” I whispered, my mind spinning, trying to think of a way to get away from him.

  He stood and offered me his hand. I flinched, not wanting to have to touch him in any way. Seeing that, his eyes grew angry.

  “Take my hand, Penny,” he demanded. “I’m going to take you back to your room. We don’t want Roman or Tag knowing you disobeyed orders to stay put, now, do we?”

  The tone in his voice was chilling, and it made me put my hand in his and do as he said. When he wrapped his hand around mine, it felt like rough sandpaper on my soft skin, making my lunch churn in my stomach. He pulled me up to stand but refused to let go when I tried to take my hand back.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” he chided. “I’m not letting you go until I get you safely back to your cabin, love.”

  Hot tears burned the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. The last thing I needed was for him to see how much he scared me. He pulled on me roughly and started walking, not caring that he was going so fast it was hard for me to keep up.

  “What brought you out of your room, Ms. Santoro?” he asked, a hint of joy in his voice.

  Stupidity, I said to myself. “Curiosity,” I replied.

  He looked at me over his shoulder, still not slowing down. “Oh, I love a girl who’s curious.” The look in his eye told me more than I wanted to know, that he was turned on by it. My stomach protested, bile burning in my throat.

  We turned corner after corner, and I was lost. This wasn’t the way I had come from my room, but there had to be more than just one way. He suddenly stopped in front of a cabin door that wasn’t mine and turned to face me.

  “You know, Ms. Santoro, if I was smart, I’d take you right to Roman and tell him I caught you sneaking around.”

  He laughed when he saw the fear in my eyes and then put his hands on my shoulders. I shivered at the touch, detesting it. Ignoring my attempts to pull away, he started to massage.

  “But I’m not being smart at the moment. I’ve decided to be greedy. Before I take you back to your room, I want to show you mine. I have to admit, I’ve fantasized about having you in here ever since you got on the yacht. It’s not every day a beautiful woman graces our presence.”

  He went back to holding my hand as he unlocked his door. Before he could drag me inside, I spoke up.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea!” I stayed put on the threshold, doing my best not to be forced in. He spun around and faced me, his eyes angry.

  “I don’t care what you think,” he spat. “Trust me, this is a better alternative than taking you to Roman. I just want to show you my little cabin, love.”

  Before I could reply, he yanked on my arm, pulling me inside, and tossed me on the bed. I hurried and turned around, watched him turn the lock, then look at me with a huge sneer on his face. The stench of putrid cologne filled my nostrils, which made sense when I saw the many bottles of it lined up all over his dresser.

  He stayed leaning back on the door, one corner of his mouth turned up. “Oh, Penny,” he chimed again, rubbing his hands together. “You look beautiful today, my love.”

  I started to shake, the fear too much. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked quietly.

  He pushed off the door and walked toward me, never taking his eyes off of me. He bent down on his knees and took my hands in his calloused grasp. “Oh, now, why ask me something like that? Don’t you want to be here with me, away from your prison of a room? It must be driving you crazy being in that room day in and day out.”

  I didn’t answer because it felt like he was baiting me. All I wanted was to be back in my room, with Tag.

  TAG.

  Did he know I was gone yet? Was he looking for me?

  Please, God, let him be looking for me.

  Fingers were in front of my eyes, snapping for my attention.

  “Where did you go, Penny?” his squeaky voice asked. “Pay attention when I am speaking to you,” he commanded, making me shrink back in fear.

  “I want to go back to my room.”

  His eyes darkened and turned into slits, sending fear down my spine. “Don’t be rude, Pen
ny,” he hissed. “It’s not polite to talk to your host like that.”

  My host?

  He got up and went to a small cupboard. When he opened it up, I saw bottles of booze lined up inside. He got to his knees and looked around, moving some bottles before finally choosing one. He took it out and stood up, looking over his shoulder at me with his chilling grin on his face.

  “Only the best for you, Ms. Santoro,” he said, turning and showing me the bottle he’d chosen.

  Dom Perignon.

  I wanted to vomit. That champagne would forever be ruined for me after this. I watched as he pulled out two champagne glasses, then popped the cork in the bottle, making a huge noise that had him laughing in his high-pitched cackle that scared me to death.

  “Oh, I hope no one heard that, otherwise I could get in some serious trouble,” he told me as he filled our glasses. Handing one to me, I took it, but didn’t take a sip. “But you’d be worth it,” he said, staring intently at me.

  Bile was traveling up my throat. I had to get out of there.

  Chapter 8

  “Drink up, Penny,” Rico told me, not moving his gaze off of me.

  The last thing I wanted to do was take a sip of the champagne, but I didn’t see what choice I had. I tried to stop my hand from shaking as I lifted the glass to my lips. Knowing he was still watching, I took the smallest sip possible, setting the glass down on the table next to me.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, seemingly eager to hear my response.

  What the hell have I done to myself? Why did I leave the cabin? Tears threatened the back of my eyes, the fear of Rico intensifying as each minute passed. “It’s fine.”

  “You know, Penny,” he began, ignoring my comment, looking off into the distance—at what I didn’t know. “I’m going to be big someday.”

  I sat still, not having a clue what he wanted me to say to that. He took another sip of his champagne and continued.

  “When Roman dies or gets too old to run this cartel, I’ll be the one in charge.” He set his glass down next to mine and started to rub his hands together. My nerves were on an all-time high when he looked up at me, the glare of pure evil in his eyes. “I’m his right-hand man, you know,” he continued. “One day this will all be mine, and maybe, if you play your cards right, you can be the one who shares it with me.”

  SLAM!

  He flung himself on top of me hard and shoved me down on the bed, his lips leaving wet kisses on my neck. His breath was sour, making me turn my head even further to the side, which ended up only giving him more access. “Aww, you want more,” he said in a disgusting tone against my neck, making me struggle against him. The adrenaline bursting through me at his attack caused me scream and push on his chest harder. He lifted his face, his eyes full of nothing but insanity, and gave me his smug grin.

  “Your screams make me even hotter for you, Penny,” he leered as he started kissing my neck again, the coarse linen fabric of his shirt rubbing against my chest as he started to grind all over me.

  “STOP!” I yelled, continuing to push on his chest. “Please stop. Get off of me!”

  I was shrieking, but it only seemed to turn him on more. His lips left a slimy path as they traveled down my neck, across my chest, and to the top of my breasts. He lifted his head again and sat up. Relief poured through me as I thought my pleas had finally gotten through, but then he ripped my tank top in two, grasped each of my breasts with both hands, and started to squeeze them hard.

  “NOOOOOO!” I sobbed, twisting my body to try and get away from him.

  CRACK!

  The blow to my cheek came hard and fast, leaving a sting of fire in its wake. My hand went to the pain as the tears continued to course down my face.

  “Shut up, bitch!” he growled. “I can only take so much resistance before I start to get pissed off. You know you want this. You left your cabin to come find me. I’m not an imbecile, you dirty whore.”

  He continued to pull and tug at my breasts, thrusting his hands inside my bra and twisting my nipples so hard between his fingers, I thought I’d die from the pain.

  He leaned down and sucked on one over the cup of my bra. “I’ve been dreaming of doing this every night since you got here,” he moaned. “I know you came to find me so I could touch you like this. You’ve been starved for my cock ever since you saw me in the hallway. You’re finally going to get it, and I can’t wait.”

  He shoved my bra down my chest, exposing my breasts, and moaned again as he twisted my nipples between his fingers.

  “NOOOOO please stop!” I wailed again, not caring if he hit me over and over. That was better than this. It felt like I was floating over my own body, watching him violating me from above, unable to move. The demented look on his face showed how completely insane he really was. I knew he would rape me.

  He lifted his head again and moved to the button on my jean shorts, flinging it open and tugging them down my legs. I began to kick, trying to stop him, but froze when he pulled the gun hidden in the waistband of his pants.

  “I’d advise you to stop fighting me, princess,” he said in a chilled voice. “Your resisting now annoys the shit out of me. This little game of playing hard to get is old. Stop fighting and enjoy it because I know I will.”

  He pressed the cold gun against my bare midriff, his eyes daring me to defy him. My hands flew to my eyes, and the sobs tore out of my throat. This was really happening, and no one was going to help me. Not even Tag.

  “There you go,” he practically sung in his high-pitched squeak. “You don’t have to watch, but you’re definitely going to feel.”

  He finished pulling my shorts off my legs, then stared greedily at my purple lacy boy shorts. His disgusting tongue poked out of his lips and ran all around them as he ran a finger along the seam of my underwear. Bile rose up my throat and I gagged, chocking on it as it went back down.

  His eyes darted to me. “No gagging allowed yet, princess,” he squealed. “Not until I have my cock in your mouth. Seems as though you’re eager for that, hmm?”

  He stood up and quickly undid his fly, then tore his black denim pants off of him, throwing them across the room. He wore tighty-whiteys, and his junk was pressing through, the sight making me gag again. My hand immediately went to my mouth, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

  He came back to the bottom of the bed and got on all fours, looking me up and down, his beady eyes resting on my crotch. He licked his lips again as he began to crawl up my body, his eyes staying settled on my most private area. He settled himself down between my legs, the gun still resting on my stomach.

  I was numb. This wasn’t happening. Once again I felt myself being lifted and floating in the air, watching the scene from above, as if this was happening to someone else. If I was dying, the timing couldn’t have been better.

  He rested on his elbows as he traced the gun with his finger, up and down, back and forth. “I’m going to keep this gun here on your stomach,” he said with his grin. “Do you think it will stay there as I’m pumping inside you?”

  I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head, the numbness completely taken hold over my whole body. It was like it wasn’t even me under this vile man, but a stranger. For some strange reason, as he kept talking, I was taken back to our summer home on the beach. I could hear my favorite sound in the world, the ocean waves, and it brought calmness over me. A calming numbness as his finger traced the outline of the gun on my stomach.

  He suddenly sat up between my legs and grabbed a hold of the top of my underwear. Still in my daze, I watched as he tore them from my body, then dropped them on the floor. He quickly got rid of his own underwear, and his pathetic cock sprung free.