Page 21

TWENTY

Dante

My brain is tired. No, all of me is tired. Well, almost all of me. It’s been days since she discovered the toy she gave me, and the only interaction I can provide is fucking. I don’t speak much because I never had a reason to, and I need to finish healing what I can and put a scab on what I can’t.

I’m happy to have gained most of the flexibility back in my leg. We need to move soon. I'm a week behind my schedule. I don't underestimate my enemies, and I know he's been digging to find either one of us. I don't want to become sitting ducks.

It's late and we're in bed where she's cuddled up under me because she's trying to get me to watch one of her favorite action movies. Inaya was appalled that I don't get a lot of pop culture references, but Father didn't give me much television time and now it's a habit not to watch it.

This cuddling thing is still new, and I've fought the urge to push her off me a few times. Fake gunshots grab my attention, and I look back at the screen.

"He's holding the gun wrong." I scoff when a woman picks up a gun and starts shooting. "You can't just go from pampered princess to shooting like a pro the moment you grab a weapon. The recoil alone makes that impossible."

Inaya sighs and continues to watch. Although I’m trying to humor her, the next scene makes me laugh.

“There is no way to stab someone like that and not be covered in blood. I understand not wanting to make it too gory, but they should be a little realistic.”

Her hand slips over my mouth, and the idea that she can make me do anything is amusing. Not amusing enough for me to laugh, but it does make me smile. I move her hand from my mouth and drop a kiss on her neck. It’s a terrible movie; I can’t watch it any longer.

“Turn it off,” I tell her with another kiss. I can’t stop touching her, that's the main difference. It’s as if my brain doesn’t want to analyze the changes in my views, so I follow the only instinct available. Lust.

“You said you’d watch,” she complains with a soft moan.

“No, I said I’d try.”

My fingers tease her torso as I work my way down. Her first mistake was not covering her body after her shower. It wouldn’t have stopped me, but her getting comfortable while only wearing the towel she wrapped herself in makes my mission much easier.

“Turn it off,” I repeat as I push the towel off her body.

It really is a great body, with full breasts and hips. I push her plush thighs apart while realizing what it is about her. Inaya is the first person who has ever sexually attracted me. I’ve never felt like touching anyone the way I want to touch her. I’ve never wanted anyone to touch me before her.

Before her, I just thought sex and physical intimacy didn’t interest me and that it would always be that way. Every time I had to force myself to interact in this way to infiltrate someone's life or extract information from a target, it made me less interested in the act. Each time I had to zone out, much like I did when I lost my virginity, just to allow my body to follow nature. I’d then fake it from there while never feeling connected to my body.

I’d expected it to be that way with her. The first time, my goal was to give Inaya what she wanted as some form of gratitude for taking care of me, but she quickly turned it into something more. Once I was well, I tried to go back to normal. Told myself that I’d go back to not caring to touch her, but I was wrong. Sometimes it feels like it’s all I want to do. It’s like my body is trying to catch up on all the years of lost pleasure.

It’s more like a part of me that I thought died long ago is revived. Her soft sighs bring me out of my head and back into the low light with her. Inhaling the scent of her, I run my tongue along her slit, instantly transforming an act that I used to be forced to do because I need to ‘learn’ into something I want to do to please the woman in front of me.

Each taste makes me want more and her appreciative coos are all the encouragement I need to keep going until her hot, slick walls clamp down on my fingers. The sound of her orgasm goes straight to my dick. I’m so unaccustomed to the level of arousal I feel, I almost hate it. I should not be almost dizzy with lust over something I’ve been getting daily, nor should my dick feel stuck to my underwear because of my pre-cum.

The fascination of wanting to sexually possess a woman is new and, frankly, dangerous. I cannot afford to lose focus on the big picture, my main goal. Yet when I pull down my boxer briefs, my dick pops out hard and ready as if her pussy calls to it. Inaya eyes drift open after her orgasm and her desire punches me in the gut.

Impatient, I move over her to take what it feels like I need. The sensitivity of the head of my dick, coupled with her enthusiastic screams, has me initiating yet another kiss but I’m unable to feel the regret. It’s all pleasure, and it’s confusing as hell, but all I can do is stay in the moment and pump her with more of me.

I shouldn’t encourage scratching, screaming, and excessive eye contact, but now I cannot see sex any other way. It must be raw, dirty, and intense. And it has to be with Inaya, because I need to see the additional rapture on her face from feeling my cum on her walls. I don’t stop her when she laces her fingers in mine and the trapped feeling never surfaces when she wraps her legs around my waist. Only the desire to give her more remains.

Her name is a moan off my lips right after I come. Inaya falls back into a cuddle position when I pull out and I receive soft kisses on my chest until she falls asleep. Some variation of our day has been like this for the last week, and every night, I have the same thought.

What the fuck am I going to do now? Father still has to pay, but my original plan is heavily flawed. Killing her will hurt all of us now. A low level of irritation shoots through my veins once more. This was not the plan, but I doubt that I can just walk away from the project.

I hate reworking my missions, but it feels necessary. The hate rolls in to give me just enough spite to continue with my plan but that’s where I get stuck. I’m between a father and daughter and my emotions are being pulled in tug-of-war and I still don’t know who’ll win.

Inaya

Dante announced that it’s time to go to a new location. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing, but I know I’m not asking. Yes, he has relaxed some and will fuck me into oblivion most days, but it doesn’t mean he cares about me enough to not continue his mission. Hell, this could just be him giving me what I requested early in my abduction; keeping me sexually satisfied until he gets to the final part of his plan.

I’m sitting out at the table, staring at the water that has imprisoned me, but is still somehow a beautiful sight while he grabs the last few things from our former dwelling. Eventually, he sits across from me and slides a cup of water and a pill in front of me. I know exactly what kind of pill it is and its purpose. I stare at the pill and look back up at him. Dante’s mask is in place, so his look is blank and unreadable. I highly doubt he’s joking. He’s knocked me out every time he has moved me when I least expected it, so maybe him being transparent about his intentions is some sort of improvement.

Still, I do something I rarely do. I question him. “Why do I have to take that?”

“It’s easier.”

Simple words, but he’s not the one being drugged and taken around the world. At this rate, I can wake up in a jungle next.

“If you don’t want me to know where we’re going, can’t you just blindfold me?”

Dante raises an eyebrow. “You want to be blindfolded in a small boat crossing a large body of water?”

Okay, that description does make me a little queasy. Plus, he hadn’t exactly helped my fear of drowning by pushing me out of the boat the last time we shared one.

“And this isn’t some way to knock me out and drop me in the ocean?”

Dante rubs his beard, but doesn’t delay his words. “If I planned to drown you, I wouldn’t waste a pill.”

His matter-of-fact statement quickly reminds me of who he can be. Just because I haven’t seen that side of him lately doesn’t mean it just magically disappeared. No one can rework their mind that quickly. Dante is still Dante, even if he smiles at me from time to time.

I nod slowly and reach for the pill and cup of water. I can read a situation, and this is not the time to try to buck the system. His approach was giving easy-way-or-the-hard-way vibes. Whomever Katy Perry was talking about in “Hot N Cold” has nothing on Dante Orejón. He doesn’t go from hot to cold. Instead, he goes from nearly normal to killer and I’m not trying to get reacquainted with the version of him that abducted me.

I pop the pill, then follow it with the water so we can get this on the road. I do my best not to allow my disappointment to show. While he made a valid point about my fear of a lot of water, I also hoped we were beyond this. Dante walks around the table to lean in front of me. He tucks his finger under my chin to force eye contact. There is more emotion in his eyes than what was there a few seconds ago, but I wouldn’t dare try to guess. I feel my body slowing down, preparing for the inevitable fall. My eyes blink slowly as he leans in and takes a soft kiss, then scoops me up to carry me to the boat. He lays me down, but this time, I have a pillow.

I completely shut down only minutes into the water. Groaning awakens me enough to realize it’s my own. I stretch out my body just to realize that I’m actually really comfortable. It’s nothing like the last times he has knocked me out. Finally, I pry my eyes open and am stuck looking around the room, trying to allow my brain to catch up.

We’re not in any room as remote as I imagined. Rolling to my side, I notice a glass balcony that overlooks another beach and an ocean. The slight breeze from the open door makes the white curtains billow away from the glass doors.

“What?” I whisper to myself as I sit up.

Dante is nowhere in sight, but some more water is on the nightstand. It looks amazing for my dry mouth. That’s always the downfall of sedatives. They make me so thirsty. I down the bottle of water fast enough to make myself a little queasy. Opting to let it pass, I lean back on the headboard and take a few deep breaths. I’m in a fancy hotel room. No, a resort. But where?

Someone knocks on the door, the sound echoing in the silent room, causing me to believe that Dante will pop up out of nowhere. Once he doesn’t appear, I get to the door just before the worker walks off.

He smiles at me and gestures to the cart. “Room Service.”

His Spanish accent could give me an idea of where I’m at, but it could be misleading. There are people around the world with Spanish accents. I step aside and allow him entry, since only Dante could have ordered the food. He leaves the tray near the table and offers to remove the lids for me.

“No, thank you,” I tell him. “I can do it myself. Sorry, I don’t have tip money on me.”

He waves me off with a smile. “No worries. Your husband paid already.” He gives me a half bow before exiting. “Thank you. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

“Husband?” I whisper as the soft click of the door closing reminds me that I’m alone again. “Honeymoon?”

I try to ignore the way those words make my belly flutter since Dante has been known to exaggerate our relationship when traveling. My brain, however, is also stuck on reminding me that most of his ploys were before we had sex; before we cuddled and before he kissed me like he cared. His titles have a different effect on me, an effect that I can’t afford to feel. I’d have to know I’m not a pawn before I get my hopes up.

I rub my face, only to realize that metal brushes my nose. Pulling my hand back to look at it, I stare for long moments, because I fully feel like maybe this is a dream in which I thought I woke up. A beautiful diamond ring sits on my finger, as if I’m married in real life. I touch it and it is truly real. My bladder, however, doesn’t care about the ring. My toiletries are already in the bathroom, so I perform some basic grooming until my stomach grumbles to remind me that there is food to eat in my room.

Everything smells damn good, begging me to eat it, yet I still hesitate. I know he doesn’t need a reason to drug me just for fun or anything like that, but I’m not sure if a new location equals a new game. Telling myself to give Dante a chance to return, I wait fifteen minutes before my stomach growls again. I’m really hungry and can’t wait any longer.

I remove the tops from the three plates to find a salad, an entree of a half chicken with rice and vegetables, and a dessert. It all looks great, but this meal is for one.

“Where am I?” I grumble and swipe the remote to turn on the television. The hotel information immediately pops up on the big screen. “Ibiza! I’m at a resort in Ibiza.”

Nothing should stun me by now, but this is the polar opposite of the accommodations I’ve had since he abducted me. As I eat and stare off into the picturesque landscape, I ask myself the same question again.

What the hell is happening?