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CHAPTER TWELVE

“ A re you drying off okay now, Angel?”

In the other armchair, the one that had its back to me, the Warrior lounges, sprawled in his gorgeous suit and vest with his tie and his tailored white shirt undone.

His eye glints as he rolls a tumbler of whisky in his hand. The bottle he had in the house and an empty tumbler are on a little glass table by his feet.

He’s been in that chair the whole time. He was there while I sat outside, covered in freezing mud. While I was hunting for the key, he was probably watching. He very likely watched me while I drug myself under the hedge and then splashed all the way here, face down in mud most of the way.

He says, “Loving the wet tee-shirt look. I’m so glad you didn’t ruin it with a bra.” He stares at my tits like he’s considering a sauce for them. When his eyes have finished touring my body, they find their way back to mine. “You do look like you need a whiskey now.”

I do. I almost lunge for the glass. But I stop myself.

“How did you know I would come here?”

He shrugs. “There’s nowhere much else to go. And,” he rises to turn and peer out of the back window. “It’s ugly out there.”

He takes a sip of the bourbon, puckering his lips as he watches me.

“Well done battling through that hedge. I was worried about you, out in that storm.”

My eyes flick to the front door. I would need to get past him. Then I glance at the Sig on the counter. He’s nearer to that, too.

I slump into the chair.

“Finish your coffee and we’ll head back,” he tells me.

I take a sip but my taste for the brew has passed. Now it’s just a warm cup of slightly bitter rust.

Weary, I put the saucer on the low table.

“I’m disappointed, though.” He stands. “I thought we were building a pretty good rapport back there.”

“We were–”

“Really? you could have said, ‘You know, I’m thinking of making a bolt for it. I was going to drop out of the bedroom window.” And I could have told you that was a totally shit plan. That you wouldn’t get far and you’d need a better scheme if you wanted to stand a chance.”

“Would you have helped me escape?”

“I could say, but you’d never know whether to believe me, would you? Anyway, it’s neither here nor there now, is it.”

“You could help me now.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. I could steal a car for you or put you on a plane,” he beckons me toward him. Reluctantly I get up and approach. “Then I’d go back and tell the others, ‘Hey, she wanted to escape and she was totally rubbish at it, but I gave her a few pointers and a sack of cash.’ Yes?” He motions for me to put out my hands. “That would give us all something to laugh about.” He puts his wrists together, indicating for me to do that. I shake my head. His eyes narrow as he solemnly nods. “We could all meet up years from now.” I do as he wants. Then he snaps a cable tie around my writs.

“HEY!”

“Oh. Oh, you think I should just trust you?”

My eyes plead with him. He nods. “Mm. Very pretty,” and he tugs the cable tie a couple of notches tighter.

“What are you going to do with me?” I hate the weak tremors in my voice.

He reaches around to prod my shoulder-blade, pushing me toward the front door. He stops me and picks up the P226 from the counter.

Outside the rain is heavier than ever.

He has a black Land Rover Defender waiting on the muddy dirt road. He walks behind me, nudging my back. When we reach the car, I start forward to run downhill. Before I take a step, his arm curls around my waist.

He holds my elbow as he opens the car door. I shrug his hand away and dash. I get across the road and three bounds down the slope before he brings me down against the wet grassy bank.

I struggle to get free but he holds on tight. All I succeed in doing is getting a few inches out of my camo pants. They slide down to my thighs. Rain soaks the two of us. I can hardly hear him through the splashing and patter, but I think he’s laughing. Or he could be raging. I keep trying to shimmy away, but now my cotton panties are soaked and askew, too.

He gets halfway up, on one knee, holding me down easily with one hand on my back.

The open palm of his other hand slaps hard on my ass. As a red glow seeps the sting deep into my cheek and out across my ass and the top of my thigh, he slaps me again. Harder.

The rain multiplies the racking humiliation that electrifies me and wipes through me.

And again he slaps me, on the very same spot. And again. Each spank lands with more of a cracking force than the last.

He lifts me and drops me across his knee. Now I can hear him rage.

“How rough do you want this to get?”

He spanks me in another stinging volley, each time landing the flat of his hand in exactly the same place. With every blow, his hand stays longer, like he’s savoring the reddening heat. As well as the grip he’s taking on my bare, wet ass.

Neither the cold nor the wet of the weather can explain my other reactions, though. My thighs clench and they spark and tingle. Feathers and fountains flutter and fly like starbursts in my stomach. And my pussy is pulsing so much it aches.

“If you want to fuck with me,” he snarls, yanking the twisted mess of my panties farther down until they’re a wet rope constricting my thighs, “Then I’m going to fuck with you.”

I’m shaking and sobbing, “No. No!”

But I’m desperate for him to hear, Yes. Please! Yes!

He goes on spanking, harder and harder, and I’m shaking deeper and deeper inside. There’s no sign that he hears me at all. I guess that’s a win.

Roughly, he turns me over. Drops me on my knees onto the wet grass. Holds my chin in his hand and squeezes my cheek.

“I trusted you. That was what you wanted.”

He squeezes harder. With the other hand, he pinches my nipple hard through the soaking tee-shirt.

Tears and rain stream down my face so I can’t tell which is which.

“You made me trust you. You meant that. Didn’t you. That was what you wanted. Wasn’t it?”

I nod. “Yes!” I wail as cold rain sloshes in my mouth.

He slaps my face. Hard enough to sting. It’s hard to tell in the downpour, but I think he’s welling up, too.

“Should I stick my cock in your mouth or up your ass?”

I nod. Fast. “Yes.” And hard. “Please.”

Pinching my cheeks tighter, he leans closer to my face, “Which?”

“Both. Whatever you want. I’m sorry. Please. I’ll do anything.”

He scowls.

“Please. I want it.”

“I can’t believe a fucking word you say.”

I reach forward and grab his tailored, soaked pants with both my bound up hands. “Please.”

As he stands up he grips my hair on the back of my head. I shake from head to toe as he pops open his fly buttons. The material of his suit is wet and stiff. I reach out but he slaps my tied hands away.

He drags out his cock. Thick and dripping wet, it bounces in front of my face. I feel the heat, and the musky scent clouds my head. Thin, sweet saliva floods into my mouth and my jaw drops open, letting in even more rain.

Cold, wet grass soaks through the legs of my pants and chilling rain cascades over my bare ass and the tops of my thighs, where the soaked knot of my twisted panties digs into me. Droplets of water roll over the cheeks of my ass and trickle down the crack, under my thighs, and chill the burning lis of my pussy, tickling my hood and my bean.

Twisting and pinching my nipple harder, his eyes gleam and harden. The sting makes me want to howl. Holding it back wells up a hot tension that’s so strong, it buzzes through me. It’s almost a noise.

Have I done this before? Since I have no recollection and no way to know, it’s like I haven’t. The dark scent of him makes me hungry. Needy. I want him. My neck bends and stretches, darting the thick, musky flesh, but with his grip on my hair, he tries to hold me back.

My eyes and mouth stretch wide. He’s massive. My tongue flattens as I lunge through the rain at him.

His eyes flash as he growls. “You want it as much as I do.”