Trafficked

by Alexis Abbott

  Then I wonder if maybe it belongs to Vladimir. He does rather seem like the type of man who would keep a steady supply of burner phones stashed away in various hiding places. Maybe he stashed it under the bed for emergencies. Or to keep up with whatever dark, nefarious boss he serves. I’m not totally naive

  A man like Vladimir, who dresses to the nines and keeps a shiny pistol in his coat pocket, is not a free agent.

  He’s working for somebody.

  Somebody who pays him awfully well.

  God, he’s been gone for so long. He said he would only be away for an hour, but one glance at the little chrome alarm clock on the bedside table tells me that he’s been out all afternoon. I roll over onto my back, still tapping away at random keys on the screen, trying to stumble upon the password by chance.

  I like Vladimir, I have to admit. He scares the living hell out of me, and yet I still feel infinitely safer when he’s around. It doesn’t make much sense. He’s completely shrouded in mystery. For all I know, he could be one of them, just hiding in plain sight, lying outright to my face. That would be an awful reality to face—that the man my body aches for is actually just another enemy.

  That would be just my luck, wouldn’t it? The one time I feel an overpowering sensual magnetism to somebody, and it’s the guy sent here to capture or kill me. Maybe just keep me on ice before selling me off to the highest bidder.

  My stomach flip-flops uncomfortably. I hope that’s not the case. I want to trust him. Or rather, my body wants to trust him. My mind is still much more paranoid. After all I’ve been through, I think that’s fair. I have seen more loss and pain than many of the people I know who are my age. I have been betrayed. I have been scorned. I often feel as though I am all alone in the world. I grew up fast, but sometimes I do still feel rather childlike on the inside. For instance, I have only kissed a boy one time.

  It was years and years ago at a frat party I was invited to by a classmate of mine. She was a creative writing student. Blonde hair. Infectious smile. I trusted her—or at least I trusted her more than I did most people. And it was the first semester of my freshman year, so I was still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and optimistic about making friends and leading a normal life. I was mostly just excited to go off to college and not be bumped around from one failed foster home to the next.

  But when I got to the frat party, I knew within ten seconds of walking into the Kappa Kappa house that I had made a grave miscalculation. The ratio of boys to girls was wildly uneven, and I realized I had been recruited, in a sense, to come to the party. I tried to stick it out, thinking this was my one shot to prove myself tough and grown-up enough for college friendships.

  I even sat through multiple rounds of spin the bottle. I let a boy kiss me on the lips in front of everyone. His mouth was too wet, his tongue too pushy. He had thin lips and his breath was hot and smelled of cheap cinnamon whiskey. It was an altogether unpleasant experience, and though I laughed it off at the time, it turned out to be the last college party I would ever attend.

  I found out quickly enough that I was perfectly content to sit in my dorm room and read, listen to old records on the player I bought from a thrift shop, and write poetry in bed. My roommates all thought I was a weirdo, of course—I even overheard one of them refer to me as Lydia Deetz on more than one occasion (which, to be fair, I kind of take as a compliment). I have always preferred my alone time, except for when I was with Ms. Hardwick. She was so quiet and unassuming that she put me at ease. I had never felt a kindred spirit connection with anyone before, but she was the first. And I assumed after her death she would be the last.

  But I see now I might be wrong about that, because whenever Vladimir was close by, I felt a similar connection with him. Only stronger. And tinged with a bizarre, dark sensuality that defies all explanation.

  I can’t wait for him to get back.

  And I know just how silly that sounds. After all, he did lock me in this room and leave me here while he goes off to do only god knows what. I have no real reason to trust him, and if there’s anything my experience with men has taught me, it’s that I should be sparing and stingy with my trust. Especially since he’s the kind of man who could tear me limb from limb if he so desires. And yet, I find him utterly captivating. I find myself wanting, no, needing to please him. Like I have this burning ache for his approval and if I don’t get it, I’ll feel like a failure. I want him to like me. I want him to want me the way I want him.

  “Jesus. What’s wrong with me?” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

  Maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe it’s because he’s wildly handsome and distinguished and wise and he makes me feel like there are butterflies and moths flitting around in the cage of my ribs.

  Suddenly, I hear a sound upstairs on the deck. A thump. A few thumps. I freeze up and listen intently to… footsteps. Heavy footsteps. I dive under the bed sheets, peeking out at the door as the footsteps get closer. I don’t know if it’s going to be Vladimir or some scary stranger come to kill me. My heart pounds, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I stash the cell phone inside one of the pillow cases quickly as the doorknob to the master bedroom slowly turns. The lock clicks and the door creaks open. I watch, barely breathing, as a dark, lurching figure comes into the room. And then I’m hit with a tidal wave of relief as I realize it is, in fact, Vladimir.

  I sit up in bed with a sigh. “Took you long enough!” I exclaim, and then I notice it—he’s wounded. His right bicep, the fabric is torn away and there’s a dark rust-colored stain dripping down his arm. I propel myself out of bed and rush over to him, panicked.

  “You’re hurt,” I gasp.

  “It is nothing to worry about,” he grunts.

  “Like hell it’s not. You’re bleeding!” I insist, guiding him to the bed. “Sit here. I-I bet there’s some kind of first aid kit in the ensuite. Just be still and don’t touch it.”

  “I don’t need you to be my nurse, Autumn,” he groans, but I’m already rushing into the ensuite bathroom, throwing open the medicine cabinet in a frantic search for something that might help. I manage to find a spool of gauze, a bottle of vodka, and what looks like a clean rag. I hurry back to stand in front of him, my hands trembling slightly as I pour vodka into the rag and dab at the wound. I grit my teeth, bracing for him to wince or cry out in pain, but he doesn’t even flinch.

  “Wow. You must have a really high threshold for pain,” I point out, impressed.

  He shrugs. “In my line of work, I have suffered far worse than this,” he says.

  “And what exactly is your line of work?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  He goes silent. I sigh.

  “Fine. You don’t have to give away all your secrets just yet,” I relent. “But you should at least tell me how you got this wound so I know how to treat it.”

  “Just a bullet,” Vladimir says simply.

  I pause and look at him in horror, vodka dripping onto the floor. “A bullet? What the hell happened to you out there? I thought it was just a business deal or something,” I blurt out.

  “Business goes sour sometimes,” he admits flippantly. “Besides, the bullet only grazed my arm. It’s a superficial wound. Nothing serious.”

  “That’s a lot of blood for ‘nothing serious,’ Vladimir,” I tell him.

  “Looks worse than it really is. I will be just fine. I promise, malyshka,” he says softly.

  He pushes me back for a moment to pull off his shirt, baring his chest and making it easier for me to get to his wound. I have to force myself not to openly stare at the cut, well-defined lines of his body, the thick strength of his chest and the taut abdominal muscles leading down toward his crotch in a vee shape. He’s even more well-built than I expected from the way his tailored clothes fit his body, and suddenly my mouth feels very dry, my head a little dizzy. He’s mesmerizingly good-looking. I tear my eyes away from his chest to finish cleaning and wrapping up his arm. The bleeding is already staunched, which is a good sign. Then I
make the fatal mistake of looking him in the eyes.

  The blazing desire in those dark pools is enough to nearly burn me right up. I can smell his musky, heady scent, and it’s making my senses go haywire. With a shaking hand, I reach out and lightly touch his chest, reveling at the sensation of the muscles rippling under his tight, smooth skin. He grunts and grabs my hand in his much larger one, holding it, letting his thumb trace soothing circles into my soft palm.

  I lick my lips just as he pulls me in and kisses me. Softly at first, then with more force.

  And all I can think about is how this feels so right. This is what a good kiss is supposed to feel like. This is… more than I ever could have dreamed of. Suddenly, Vladimir is pulling me into his lap, my legs straddling his waist. I feel his cock hardening between us and it nearly takes my breath away. My body is trembling and hot with need, a feeling I have never experienced before. He kisses me harder while his calloused hands rove up and down my body, groping me, feeling me up, arousing me to the point of near-hysterics. I need him. Now.

  Vladimir breaks our kiss, though, and looks at me hard.

  “I won’t take from you what you do not offer,” he growls, his voice low and rumbly.

  I swallow hard, feeling as though my toes are slipping over the edge of a precipice from which I will go falling if I’m not careful. But I don’t want to be careful. Not now. I want to fall.

  “And what if I offer you everything?” I whisper breathlessly.

  “Then I will take it,” Vladimir hisses, diving back in to kiss me again.

  Vladimir

  This foolish girl doesn’t know what she’s in for.

  Or maybe she does, and she just likes playing with fire.

  Either way, it’s going to get her burned, if she isn’t careful.

  I can smell her desire in the air like a subtle tease, a plea for me to be merciful and give her the release she craves. I know I should not. She’s young enough to be my daughter. But I am not naive, and I know something about that excites her. Maybe it’s something about that very age difference and the taboo of it that gets her going. Or maybe it’s the very fact that I’ve been acting like more of a father than a captor since her innocent body fell into my hands.

  If she wants a Daddy, that’s exactly what I’ll give her.

  She pushes her hips against me, grinding and feeling how hard she has made my cock. I can feel her heat, and it fans the flames of every instinct in me, urging me to put it in her and show her what happens when you flirt with danger like this.

  Our lips are locked, exploring each other and memorizing every detail of our bodies. She is so soft, her body so ripe and ready for use. My hands rove over her back, then slide to her sides and slowly make my way to her breasts. Through the thin fabric of her clothes, I feel their fullness. She doesn’t know how much of a woman she already is.

  I’ll show her.

  I break the kiss slowly, and I savor the pink blush on her cheeks as her mouth hangs open, almost pouting. She craves me. She’s anxious and impatient, and she doesn’t know what’s good for her like I do. If she had her way, she’d just have me cram it inside her as if we were a pair of nervous high schoolers. But if she wants to give her everything to a man like me, then I’ll make it more than worth her while.

  As well as mine.

  “Take it off,” I say in a deep, husky tone.

  She watches me nod to her blouse, and she swallows. Slowly, she brings a trembling hand to the buttons on her blouse, and she starts to undo them one by one. Just before she reveals her bra to me, I reach up and take both her small hands in mine, watching her carefully. She holds back a gasp, but I stroke her hair and soothe her.

  “Autumn, do you want this?”

  She watches me with shimmering, shining eyes that are full of as much fear as excitement. My gaze is sharp steel, piercing her like she wants my cock to pierce her.

  “You can say no,” I remind her gently. “You can change your mind whenever you want, and we can pretend this never happened.” I reach up to her face and caress it, dragging a thumb over her lower lip and feeling my cock pulse against her crotch. “I can put your fears at ease, but I need to hear you say that you want this.”

  Her gaze is steady, and she takes a slow, deep breath that seems to ease her nerves a little before she speaks. “I want you.”

  That’s all I need to hear. A smile crosses my lips, and I take hold of her hips, grinding up into her to reward her for her bravery. She lets out a soft gasp and tilts her head back. I can’t help myself. I wrap a hand around the back of her neck and run my mouth up and down her neck, worrying that sensitive skin between my teeth. She yelps softly, and she squirms against me, more eager than ever. I want to bite harder, draw blood, show her she’s mine as long as I have her on this boat.

  But I like teasing her too much for that.

  I draw back and glance down to her blouse.

  “I said I want that off, girl.”

  Obedient, she hurriedly unbuttons the rest of her blouse and slides it off her shoulders, leaving just her bra between me and her breasts. She looks to me as if asking for permission, and I smile. She starts to reach behind her, but I reach past her, unhooking her bra and slowly sliding it off her. Her blush goes red as she exposes her breasts to me, and I feel my cock so hard that it aches.

  She watches me with wide eyes, amazed at the desire written all over my face. Does she not know how beautiful she is? She must not, because that desperate craving for approval is as obvious as my own lust.

  I cannot resist her any longer. I take hold of her hips, and I push her down to my side and pin her against the bed. She lets out a half-laughing gasp, and she crawls back away from me, further to the center of the bed. I kick my shoes off and follow her, catching her by the ankle and pulling her legs closer to me before wrapping my hands under her ass and bringing my mouth to her breasts.

  I breathe on her stiff nipple, savoring the beautiful simplicity of her round breasts. I bring my mouth painfully close to her, letting it linger there for an agonizing moment before I let my lips touch her.

  She shudders in delight at my touch, which turns into a kiss. My hands caress her hips while I taste her nipple, and her mouth hangs open in a silent squeak as my teeth graze the thin, sensitive skin. My mouth takes as much of her into it as it can, sucking and licking and ravishing her with my attention. While my mouth toys with her left breast, my hand teases her right.

  She hasn’t given this to anyone before me. That feels like both an honor and a special delight, and I will not let it go to waste.

  I draw back from her body and look down at her, feeling my hunger growing irresistible at the sight of her sprawled out before me, hair spilling over the sheets and cheeks flustered.

  “Is this what crossed your mind when I found you?” I wonder aloud, cupping a breast in her hand and idly stroking the nipple with my thumb. “If I did not know better, devushka, I would say this has already crossed your mind, no?”

  She looks up at me with lidded, almost ashamed eyes that give me my answer. I give a dark chuckle and run my hands over her hips, then down to her legs, still covered in her skirt.

  “Strip for me, girl,” I order her with casual confidence.

  She hooks her thumbs under her waist and slowly wiggles her way out of them, taking her panties with them. The fabric slides off her body, and she pushes it aside, leaving her utterly naked before my clothed body.

  Autumn is beautiful. I have so few words that could express the desire that takes hold of me at the sight of her body, but every detail of it fills me with dark desires that nothing but her word could keep me from acting on.

  “You should be glad I saved you,” I whisper. “The men who took you could never be worthy of this.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” she breathes, petrified.

  “You’ve been a very good girl. You deserve a reward.”

  I slowly pull my sweater and shirt off, revealing a hard set of abs and
muscular chest under the fabric. Autumn watches me with rapt attention, swiping her tongue over her soft lips as I strip before her. I unbutton my pants, and I slide them down my hips, revealing the thick shaft between my legs. It sticks straight out, stiff and taut, pointing at her. She looks at it like a rare treasure, and she sits up on her knees to reach for it.

  I catch her by the wrist, and she gasps as if caught stealing. Those doe eyes look up at me, pleading.

  “May I… may I touch it?” she asks, then adds, “Sir?”

  An adoring smile crosses my lips despite myself, and my cock twitches in approval at her reverence. I give her a soft nod, releasing her hand, and she touches me. I expected her to hesitate more, but no, she strokes my cock with hungry eyes and makes it pulse with desire for her. The rush of being able to get such a reaction out of my body must be exciting, because she gets bolder, taking my balls in her other hand and exploring the weight of them.

  It doesn’t take her long to try to bring her lips to my cock, but this time, I do more than stop her. I reach down and push her onto her back, and I loom over her with one arm on each side. Our faces are just inches apart, and her quivering eyes look at me as if she’s a rabbit caught in a trap.

  “So eager to please, always,” I growl. “Always the student, desperate to make her teachers happy.”

  The furious blush on her face tells me I’m doing more than just striking a nerve, and she can’t seem to decide if she’s excited that I’ve pinned her down so easily or angry that I’m teasing her like this. I touch her chin, then kiss her once more.

  “For just this once, sit back and learn from me,” I order her. “This is about you. You need a strong hand to guide you.” I squeeze her thighs, showing her my grip and making her gasp. “I will give you all that and more.”

  She yields to me as I push her thighs apart and move down to that tight, virgin pussy. It’s beautiful to look at, and I bring my face close to breathe in the scent of her arousal. I have one last moment of pause as I scoop her thighs in my hands and let her wrap them around me, watching me with an anxious, desperate gaze.