Seduced in the Dark (7 page)

He stepped slowly and deliberately toward
her, watching with sadistic pleasure as she closed her eyes and her
lips moved; she made no sound. He pulled at the tie holding her
hair back, letting her long, dark mane cascade down her naked body,
but hiding nothing.

“Do you remember what happened the night you
decided to scream out my name?” he asked casually. The girl sobbed
as she nodded. He lifted a piece of her hair and wound it around
his hand, each turn bringing his hand closer to her scalp and
tugging softly, but with ominous implication. “If I wanted you to
nod, I’d move your fucking head myself. Answer…please.”

Kitten’s chest heaved with the force of her
sob, but the answer came through, “Yes, Master.” Caleb undid the
top button of his pants, jeans, pilfered from the good doctor. “Oh.
No. Please, no, Master. Please, no.”

“Don’t speak unless it’s to answer a
question you’ve been asked!” Kitten became silent, lips pressed
together. “Breathe through your mouth; the last thing I want is for
you to pass out without my permission.” She gasped, but didn’t
speak. “How did I punish you?”

The words seemed to affect her like a
physical blow and she pulled away from his hand, panicked, but with
no place to go. Caleb pulled her hair hard enough to force her back
into position, but not hard enough to injure. “Answer me.”

“You…you…I can’t!” she sobbed.

“Answer the question!”

“You fucked me!”

Caleb slid his zipper down slowly, drawing
the moment out for the benefit of them both. “Yes, I fucked you.
Right in your sexy little asshole.” She gasped at his words, her
face a puffy mess from her open-mouthed sobbing. “Did you like
it?”

She shook her head, “No, Master. No.”

Caleb tsked and brought her head toward his
erection, still secure in his underwear, but undoubtedly hot
against her skin nonetheless. “Liar. You came more than you had a
right to. I know because I felt you, hot and clutching at my cock,
begging me to come inside you. Isn’t that right?”

The girl shook her head, no, but she
whispered, “Yes, Master.”

Memories played through Caleb’s mind as a
series of erotic flashes. He remembered how good it had felt to be
buried inside her and feel her push against him. It would be so
easy to have her again, to have her in any way he wanted and to
bring her to the heights of unbearable ecstasy until she no longer
knew how pain or pleasure differed. However, he had a different
point to make.

“What is your name?”

“Kitten!” she shouted without
hesitation.

“To whom do you belong?”

“To, you,” she sobbed.

“Yes. To me. Now, tell me what I could do
with you?” His tone was urgent.

“I don’t know!”

“You
do
know! Tell me.”

“Cal–”

“Don’t you dare! I am not your lover. I am
not your friend! Who am I?”

“Master! You’re my…. I want to stop. Please
make it stop.”

“Answer my question, what could I do with
you?”

“Anything! Fucking anything!” she sobbed
wetly.

“Yes, I could do anything to you. I could
throw you face down and fuck you until you can’t stand and there
would be nothing you could do about it. You’re beaten, bruised and
damn near broken. I could kill you. Those bikers could have killed
you, but you keep provoking!”

“No! No, Master.”

“Are you prideful?”

“No, Master.”

“No?”

“Yes! Yes, Master, I’m prideful. I’m
sorry!”

“Is your pride worth the situation you are
in?”

Caleb let her go and watched as she placed
her hands on the floor and cried with her head bowed. “No,
Master.”

He’d done what he set out to do. “Exactly,
Kitten. Your pride isn’t worth it. It’s not worth the pain. It’s
not worth the torture me, or anyone else, could put you through. It
sure as fuck isn’t worth your life. Be smart! Fight the battles you
can win and accept the ones you can’t. That’s how you survive.”
That’s how you avoid being tied to a fucking mattress and soaked
in your own blood.

“I’m sorry! Please…just stop. Don’t be this
way anymore. I can’t stand it! I can’t stand being with you and not
knowing who you are from one moment to the next!” Kitten cried.

Caleb buttoned his pants and crouched with
one knee on the floor and pulled Kitten into his arms. She offered
no resistance, her arms wound around his neck as though she had
been desperate for them to be there all along and she sobbed into
his neck.

“I like you so much better when you’re like
this,” she whispered as she pressed her lips to his neck softly,
over and over as though she sought to calm him, when it was her in
need of calming.

“What you like or don’t like is irrelevant,
Kitten,” he answered, gently. She went still, not tense, just lax.
“That’s what you need to start expecting.” Without another word,
Caleb lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom.
They both needed to rinse the day away.

They would start fresh in the morning.

Chapter Four

Day 6:

I look around the room and feel let down by
the lack of darkness and sterility. I had an image of what an
interrogation room might look like: two-way mirror, scratched metal
table, a high watt bulb lighting my face and making me sweat.
Instead, the room looks more like a kindergarten classroom with art
projects and motivational sayings glued onto bright construction
paper on the walls. I am sitting on a plastic chair, staring at
Reed across the round, faux-wood, table in front of me.

“Okay,” Reed says. He releases a breath,
“just to get the chronology right: After you were kidnapped, you
spent approximately three weeks, locked in a dark room, in a city
you can’t recall. You escape the man known as ‘Caleb’, and are,
almost immediately, held for ransom by a man named ‘Tiny’, and his
motorcycle gang. You contact your friend, Nicole Freedman, and ask
her to obtain your ransom of one-hundred-thousand-dollars and meet
‘Tiny’, in Chihuahua, Mexico, to exchange your freedom for the
money. You never make it to the drop because you are
rescued
, by ‘Caleb’. In the morning, you discover he has
kidnapped two people and held them hostage in their home. He leaves
them alive, but steals their car and you both drive into Zacatecas,
Mexico. You are there for
approximately
three months.”

There is a long pause, as though he expects
me say some other thing that will amaze him. He’ll be vastly
disappointed. He ought to start expecting disappointment.

“Is that all correct?” Reed asks.

“You look like you want to spit every time
you say his name,” I say, without inflection.

“My feelings are irrelevant,” Reed says.

“They’re relevant to me.”

Reed shakes his head and can’t seem to stop
himself from giving me his two cents, “He’s a human trafficker,
Miss Ruiz, a murderer, and a rapist. He didn’t
rescue
you.
He
captured
you. There’s a wide distinction between the two.
Have you considered you might have Stockholm’s Syndrome? Otherwise,
I can’t see how you can defend him on any reasonable level.”

My vision is blurry. “He was a lot of
things, that’s true enough,” I say. My voice is raspy and my lips
tremble with the force of my sorrow. “But he was also more than
what you’ve written in your damn reports.” I blink, and glare at
Agent Reed. “It was the bikers who tried to rape me. It was the
bikers who nearly beat me to death! If Caleb hadn’t stopped them,
I’d probably be dead.”

“Is he the one who killed them?” Reed asks,
insistently.

I take a deep breath and lean back in my
chair, wiping the tears from my face, “How would I know?” I shrug.
“I was unconscious.”

“I’m not defending what those men did to
you. Especially, if it happened the way you said it did.”

“Are you implying it didn’t happen that
way?”

Reed lets out an exasperated breath, “I
didn’t say that. I’m interested in the truth and nothing more.”
There’s a long pause, both of us regrouping. “The auction. When is
it supposed to happen?”

“Caleb said about a week from now.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Pakistan, somewhere.”

Reed’s questions come at me quickly. I have
no choice but to answer just as fast. I don’t want him to mistake
my pauses for answers. Worse, I don’t want him to think I’m taking
time to form a lie – which I am. “So, according to Caleb and
Muhammad Rafiq, Demitri Balk, also referred to as, Vladek
Rostrovich, is supposed to be there?”

“I guess,” I grind out.

“Will, Rafiq, be there?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Will, Caleb, be there?”

“Caleb’s dead!” I pound my hand against the
table. “How many times do I have to say it?” Reed sits back,
unconvinced, “How did he die?”

“I told you already!”

“Tell me again.”

“Fuck you!”

“Whose blood was on your clothes when they
brought you in?”

“His.”

“How did it get there?” He leans toward
me.

“I told you! He died in my fucking
arms.”

“And it was all very romantic, who killed
him?”

I burst out of my chair and throw it behind
me, knocking it into another table and littering the floor with art
supplies. “Stop asking me! I’ve answered already.”

Reed stands quickly and circles the table.
Before I can run, before I can even react to the fear racing
through me, he has me face down on the table with my arms behind my
back. I feel the cold from his cuffs, and then hear them click as
he cinches them around my wrists. It occurs to me I should never
have asked to be alone with him. There’s no one to watch him. There
is only my word against his.

I struggle, but he holds me very easily.
He’s obviously done this before. Caleb would be impressed. I am
less so, “Get the fuck off me, you asshole!”

His voice is calm, but filled with
authority, “I’ll let you go as soon as you calm down. I don’t like
being threatened, Miss Ruiz.”

“I didn’t –” I start to say and am
interrupted.

“You can’t throw the furniture around. I
take that as a threat.” I am furious! But his tone is so calm and
collected. I know if I don’t settle down, he’ll hold me like this
forever. It’s almost tempting, but I force myself to let my body go
soft. This is a battle I can’t win.

Reed releases his hold on me in degrees, the
calmer I am, the looser his hold and soon I am free of him and
standing. He’s much taller than me; I don’t even reach his
shoulder, so I have to crane my head all the way back to glower at
him.

“If you spit at me, you won’t like what I do
next,” he says very seriously, but I can see the barest trace of a
smile.
Caleb.

“What about what I asked for?” I whisper the
words, taking advantage of our closeness. I’m not nearly as bruised
as I used to be and I know what men like him, men with power, like
from beautiful women like me. I sway my body toward him, trying to
make it seem incidental.

He frowns and gives me a strange look.
Slowly, his hands come up to rest on my shoulders, they’re warm. I
wonder if his mouth is too. I lick my bottom lip and his eyes track
my tongue. He reminds me. He reminds me so much of him. It’s been
days since someone has touched me in a way I might enjoy.

He pushes me back gently. This man is all
business. “Entry into Witness Protection isn’t guaranteed,” he
says. He grabs the chair I threw and motions for me to sit. “This
crosses international lines, not just federal. The DOJ is currently
reviewing this case and it depends on other complicated factors.”
He sets it down where he wants and looks at me. “Sit down.”

I look at the chair and raise my arms from
behind my back, wiggling my fingers.

“I’m going to leave those on. Forgive me if
I don’t trust you.”

I force a smile just to piss him off, “I
won’t sign anything until you come through. I’ll say I lied about
everything.”

He steps closer, “Have you been lying, Miss
Ruiz?” His gaze is hot and smoldering – intimidating as hell. If it
weren’t for the fact I’ve been with Caleb for so long, I’d probably
piss like a puppy, but after Caleb, Reed’s threats feel like a
caress. “Sit. Down,” he orders less nicely.

I sit slowly, giving him the sultriest look
I can muster. He holds my eyes the entire time, trying to maintain
his authority, his control. I slowly lean over and spit on his
shoe. I look up at him, lips wet, and smile.

His hand wraps around my bicep with enough
force to make me wince and he hauls me to my feet. “We’re done for
today. You can go back to your room.” He shoves me toward the door
and I go without a fight.

I want to go back to my room. I’m too close
to falling apart and I don’t want Reed to see it. I don’t want
anyone to see me falling apart.

***

Day 7:

The ache in my chest is ever-present. I
dream of Caleb whenever my eyes are closed. I can touch him in my
dreams. I can run my hands along his smooth, sun-kissed skin. He’s
always so warm; he has so much heat inside him.

I press my nose to his chest and inhale
deeply. There is a familiar tug of arousal as my nipples pebble and
my pussy swells. Standing up on my toes, I press my lips to his. He
won’t open his mouth to me. He wants me to beg. My Caleb loves it
when I beg. With him, I always have a reason to. I hear myself
whimper softly and then I brush my nose against his. Against my
lips, I can feel him smile. He opens his mouth and lets me sweep my
tongue inside.
Mmmm.
I could spend a lifetime trying to
describe the decadence of Caleb’s mouth. He tastes like everything
I’ve ever wanted to eat. Unlike biting into a tender, warm, juicy
piece of meat – Caleb’s flavor never fades. It builds. I want him
more with every slide of his tongue against mine. I whimper louder.
Beg harder.
More. Please, give me more.