by Naomi West
That didn't sound good. What did he mean? Was he going to leave her here? Would he kill her? “Sir,” she said, trying to convince him one last time, “I could still change things. You know I could.”
He didn't reply. He just grabbed his tie and went behind her, making it into the makeshift blindfold again, blotting out the dim overhead light. “I wish I could believe you, Abby,” he said, as he cinched the knot tightly. “But, look at where believing you has gotten me so far.”
She made a whining noise again as he left the closet and shut the door.
At least he hadn't put the headphones, with that goddamned music, on her again. That was something to be thankful for.
But, still, she had no idea what he'd meant when he'd said she was “useless.” That last part worried her. She had to either get away from him entirely and make a run for it, or get through to him. It sounded like he was losing patience with her, and she might not be able to pull it off before he did.
The idea of that, somehow, seemed to pierce her heart even worse than all the physical pain, sleep deprivation, and humiliations he'd inflicted on her. Yeah, sure, he was fucking psycho. But, still, deep down, he was a good man who loved his brother and missed his extended family. He was just broken inside, the same as her. Anyone who had been through what he'd been through and seen what he'd seen would be a little off, too. Wouldn't they?
She knew it wasn't love that was making her feel this way. It couldn't be. After all, how could she love a man who'd done all this to her?
It had to be lust, then, she realized, as she felt him begin to leak out from inside of her. Lust, as her body tried to push her into exploring this new type of forbidden pleasure he'd helped her discover, this dark, rough, painful love-making that lit her mind and body on fire.
That and likely a heaping dose of Stockholm Syndrome, of course.
But, still, no matter what her unknown reasons, she hoped he wouldn't leave, or worse. At least, not yet. Not till she could get just a little more time with him. Even if he was fucking psycho.
# # #
Zed
He didn't know what to do. His whole life seemed to be a waste. All this time spent had been nothing but a wild goose chase. To have the information right there in front of him, then to have it just disappear right before his eyes was too much. It was too shocking and depressing.. What was the point of it all?
He left Abby in the closet and went back into the living room. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon, twisted off the cap, and took a long, full drink. He swallowed it down, savoring the burning numbness it left behind. At least the bottle hadn't failed him. Not yet, at least. Of course, it wasn't like it had ever done much good for him, either.
Zed tried to push Abby from his thoughts, but she wouldn't go. He could leave her in that closet till hell froze over, and he still knew, deep down in his bones, that she'd always be there, crowding out everything else. She was something else, that was for sure.
Another mouthful of whiskey, then he slammed the bottle down on the coffee table and swallowed down the brown liquor. There was just something about this Ice Queen who'd begun to thaw under his r attentions. She was still defiant, still strong, but she'd begun to soften around the edges and melt in the center. He just knew it. But, still, she could take anything he threw at her—the days in the chair, with the music blaring, the spankings, the degradation of the dog collar. And she still touched him tenderly, crying out as she submitted to his will. Even after she'd seen him at his weakest.
He took another drink and gave another shake of his head. He hissed in the cool air, biting back against the burn in his mouth. He needed to decide what do with her and how to proceed further on this fool's quest of his.
He could just leave, he figured. He could untie her, then just walk out the door. She wouldn't go to the cops, not after what she knew. Any sort of investigation into his actions would just open Pandora's Box for Pharma-Vitae, and it would suck Abby Winters into the middle of a shit storm she could hardly conceive of. He shook his head again. No, there was no chance of her going to the authorities over him.
But, still, he couldn't bring himself to leave her. Not just like that, and especially not after their moment on the office floor. Goddamn that had been amazing, too. The softness of her skin, the way her teeth felt, the way her fingernails had grated across his skin. There were so many things he still wanted to do with her and so many things he could do to her. Just the thought of her smell filling his nose, of the way she cried out for more when he spanked her ass, was thrilling.
He readjusted himself in his trousers, pushing his erection down to a more comfortable position. All these memories and fantasies had started to get to him, especially now that the liquor was infiltrating his system.
And it wasn't just about the sex. It was the way she looked at him, too, and the way she made him laugh. The way she could cut to his core. Love and hate were sometimes the flip-side of the same coin, his mother had always said. “The ones who love you the most are the ones who hurt you the most.” Abby definitely had the second part down, that was for sure. He couldn't help but think that she had the first part, as well. It felt like she did.
Why would she care about him? That was just crazy. He wiped a hand down his face and took another drink of liquor, grumbling at his own insanity. She was just faking it, using some old tricks she must have picked up from her mother. She was the enemy, and had just destroyed another cache of evidence he'd managed to discover.
She didn't love him, and he didn't love her. How could he? She was his captive, not his fucking soulmate!
This was just pure lust, a product from his long dry spell and that tight body of hers. What had happened in the office was either a fluke, or part of a carefully calculated plan on her part. Either way, it was nice, but it wasn't a sign of something bigger.
Did he believe her about her wanting to take down the company? Yes, he thought he did. But, how? Letting her go back to work, to try and ferret out the corruption on her own, wasn't going to work. That wasn't an option.
He took another pull off the whiskey bottle, then pushed it aside as he choked down the burning liquor. He'd figure out a way to use her to bring the company down. He knew there was a way. He just hadn't quite figured it out yet. And he couldn't quit until he figured out a way to manage it.
Chapter Fifteen
Zed
He went back into the closet, scissors in hand. He breathed heavily as he watched her twist and turn in the dining room chair, her body trying to get comfortable. Outside the closet, the distant sound of the bath filling with water could be heard in the bathroom.
“Zed?” she asked. “Sir?”
“Yeah,” he answered, as he knelt down beside her and began cutting her free.
“Are you,” she began, before trailing off. “Are you letting me go, sir?”
He shook his head, then remembered she had a blindfold on. “No,” he said. “Just moving you. I don't think you deserve the chair.”
She nodded, but didn't reply. She just watched him slice free her bonds and remove the blindfold. He took up the chain, which was still attached to the dog collar around her neck, and led her back to the bathroom. The tub was half full already.
Chain still firmly gripped, he sat down on the edge of the tub and dipped his hand into it to check the temperature. It was hot, but not scalding. Perfect. He grabbed one of the bottles of bubble bath and poured a capful beneath the diminutive waterfall coming from the faucet and took a deep breath of the soothing lavender.
“A bubble bath, sir?” Abby asked, uncertainty mixed with trepidation heavy in her voice.
“Heat's good for the soul,” Zed said after a while, his voice almost meditative. He turned back to her and shrugged. “So are bubbles, I guess.”
She smiled. “Yes, sir, I suppose,” she agreed.
He got up from the edge of the tub and walked over to her still naked form. He desperately wanted to strip and join her in the bath, but he didn't
want this to be about him. It needed to be about her. It was all about Abby. He reached up and began to work at the dog collar, removing it and tossing it aside.
She absently rubbed her neck where the metal had worried away at her skin. “What now?” she asked, as he went back over and turned the water off.
He held his hand out to her in offering. “Now, we bathe you,” he replied.
She smiled and glanced away, seeming almost embarrassed by the attention. She took his hand, though, and Zed pulled her over to the tub. He held her hand as she gingerly stepped in, then sank down below the foamy, billowy piles of suds. Abby sighed as she submerged into the steaming water, a smile growing on her face as she relaxed back into the heat.
“Now, let's try this again,” Zed said, his voice soothing and honest. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd tried to bathe her, in his first failed overture. Now, after all they'd been through, particularly their bout of rough love on the office floor, he hoped this second attempt would be more fruitful.
She murmured appreciatively as he soaped the loofah again and began to soap first her arms, then her shoulders and back. “That feels wonderful,” she practically purred, lying back in the tub, her lips slightly parted, as he gently soaped and rinsed her arms again.
Zed smiled to himself. Not because he thought his plan was working, but because he was genuinely making her feel good and relaxed. Something about watching her face change from slight apprehension to one of true pleasure lit a small candle in his soul. It made him remember he wasn't a completely monstrous psychopath. Maybe it was doing the same for her.
He continued bathing her in silence, then, as the water began to cool, he helped her step out of the bathtub. Her body glistened with water as he started the shower to help her rinse off. He couldn't keep his eyes off her tiny frame as she stepped into the stall.
As she passed by, she gave him a quick glance with one eyebrow cocked, as if to ask why he wasn't joining her.
He just looked away and crossed his arms.
God, he wanted to, though. But this wasn't about him, or his wants and needs. This was about her, and making the pleasure so great it sank down into her bones. With that in mind, he put a few items on the nightstand.
Soon, she was finished in the shower, and he was waiting for her with a fluffy, black bath towel. He swept her up in its folds and carefully dried her body, leaving her back a little damp for what he planned next. With her enfolded in its warm, cotton embrace, he led her out to the bedroom.
“On the bed,” he said, his voice softer, but still carrying that subtle hint of command. “Now.”
She simply nodded and climbed onto the bed, her eyes sweeping over the bottle of scented oil he'd placed on the nightstand while she was showering.
“Roll over,” he said, as he picked up the bottle.
“A massage, sir?” she asked, confused, as she rolled over on the bed.
He shushed her as he squeezed the oil into the palm of his hand, then began to lather up the rich lubricant. She groaned as he touched palms and fingers to skin and began to knead her muscles. He pressed into her back, working out the knots he found.
She winced a little, at first. “No,” she said, when he stopped. “Go ahead. It feels good.”
He smiled a bit at that, realizing it made sense from everything they'd done already, and began to work on her again. He moved lower, massaging her lower back and lumbar. She wiggled a little and spread her legs as he squirted some oil on first one cheek, then the other, and began to massage her ass.
The way her creamy body looked, the way it glistened with the oil, and the way it felt as his hands moved over her was all causing a mildly uncomfortable reaction for him. He had to pause and readjust himself as he moved lower and began massaging the insides of her thighs.
She moaned louder as he moved down to her knees and calves, her legs spread wider.
He could smell her excitement, now, and could see it glistening like dew on her sex. He rubbed each of her dainty feet, little toe to big, and the arch. She sighed and groaned as he worked her muscles and her extremities, her body increasingly more and more relaxed.
He moved back up to her thighs, and she spread her legs leisurely for him. He slipped higher, rubbing in small circles that increasingly took him closer to her sex.
Her breath seemed to come faster as she spread her legs fractionally further. She pushed back a little, dipping her sex closer to his fingers, close enough that her blonde hair brushed across the tip of his methodically moving digits.
She groaned appreciatively as he slipped inside her wetness. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of being inside her like this for the first time. First times were the most amazing part of any relationship, because you knew you could never have that first again.
He scooped up some of her moisture and slipped out of her, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed either side of her little hooded pleasure point, the pressure light, even, and predictable.
She sucked in a sharp breath and moaned louder as she pushed herself back onto his hand. “Oh, sir,” she groaned, her hands fisting the bedsheets. “Please, don't stop, sir.”
He had other things in mind, though. He took his fingers from her and flipped her over onto her back.
“What—?” she asked, but stopped as he climbed onto the bed between her legs. “Oh!” she groaned, as he pushed her thighs apart and dipped his mouth to her dripping sex.
He kissed her thigh wetly, his tongue tracing a figure-eight on her skin. Her clean skin and the scented oil mixed together, giving her a spicy, musky aroma that set his mouth to watering.
“Oh, sir,” she purred as his lips and tongue moved to her sex, kissed her lips, his tongue parting her in a long, lazy movement. She pushed herself into his mouth as he grabbed her by the thighs and lifted her for a better angle. Her hands came down, then, and moved to his hair.
He glanced up at her and swept her wrists up in one hand.
She groaned and pushed her head back into the pillow as he firmly locked both wrists together in one iron grip, keeping them away from him. She pushed herself into his mouth as his tongue found a spot to focus just above her clit, the tip of his tongue moving in perfect time as she spilled down over his lips and chin.
She tasted more wonderful than he could ever have imagined. Just like a woman should. Just like his woman should. He looked up at her through hooded eyes, and she looked back at him, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted as she panted her approach to her first climax.
“Oh, sir,” she groaned, pushing her hips into his mouth to encourage him along. “Oh, please, sir, don't stop,” she said, her voice rising to a little whine at the end that made Zed even harder.
She began to buck under his tongue, and he held her in place with one hand, his other straining to keep her thrashing arms together. She tensed and trembled under him, hips thrusting as he growled and moaned, his lips closing around her clit.
“Sir! Oh!” she moaned, her body shaking again, her abs clenching under him, and her sweet nectar filling his mouth as he went back to licking her sweet lips. She whined wordlessly, begging for him to come up to her.
He let go of her arms and crawled up between her legs. Her naked, oiled body clung to him like he was a life preserver and she a woman lost at sea. “Sir,” she groaned, her body shaking again in an aftershock “That was wonderful. Why?”
“Why what?” he asked, as he encircled her in his arms and held her close. He leaned down and kissed her forehead as she gazed up at him.
“Why are you being so . . . nice?” she asked, almost breathlessly.
“Because, despite what happened with the files, I think we still need to work together,” he said, after a moment's thought. “And that can't happen unless we trust each other.”
She closed her eyes and looked away, sighing as she settled into his strong arms. She seemed so tiny and powerless, nestled in like this. But, he knew better. She was the strongest woman he'd ever met.
“I want you to trust that I won't hurt you, in the end, and that we can make sure everything will work out the way it's supposed to.”
Abby turned back to him, her eyes misting a little from his words.
He licked his suddenly dry lips, smelling and tasting her still on him. “Abby, I just want to set you free. I want to unbind you from your obligations to this company, and your responsibility for what happened. By helping to cover for them, you're just as complicit. Even the courts will see that.” She nodded a little as he gave her a warm, comforting squeeze. “But you need to help me do that. Only you can unbind yourself.”
They lay there in silence for a minute or two after Zed had finished speaking, Abby just nestled against him like a longtime lover, her hands on his arms and chest, idly drawing patterns with her fingers. After a while, she spoke. “There are backups for what I deleted,” she whispered, almost too quietly for Zed to hear.