Winner Takes All (A Full Length Erotic Romance Novel) (24 page)

She wanted him to touch her breasts. Touch
them just like he knew she liked. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The other diners
loitered around them. The efficient waiters that had long ago dropped off the
check and didn’t try to rush them through their drinks.

Although no one looked at them in any
particular way, she felt they all knew that Damien’s hand was between her
thighs, that he was driving her closer and closer to a chattering climax. Her
lashes fluttered low over her eyes as his fingers moved in her pussy, coaxing
the pleasure from her, licking heat and fire and a lush desire into her.

Her body quivered on the edge of orgasm even
though Damien’s fingers didn’t get as deep as she liked. He stroked her again.
She whimpered behind her teeth, her breath coming quickly as the orgasm rolled
into her pussy, into her stomach, into her entire being. She shuddered around
his fingers as she came. Her teeth clamped hard enough on her lip to draw
blood. She called his name, softly. Softly while her fingers flexed and curled
involuntarily on top of the table.

“That was very good,” he murmured. “You
deserve a reward for being so quiet.”

He drew his hand from between her legs,
sucked the fingers that had been fucking her. “A nice appetizer.” Then he
reached for his drink and finished it with one swallow. Drew several bills from
his wallet and left them with the check.

“It’s time for us to go, darling.” His voice
was low and urgent.

They only made it as far as the hotel
downstairs. In a room there, he slammed the door shut, yanked down his zipper,
shoved up her dress and sank his hard cock into her. Knife. Hot butter.
Throbbing cock. Wet pussy.

“Oh!”

A shoe fell off her foot and thudded to the
floor. She sank her fingers into his neck, locked her ankles behind him,
pulling even more into her as he fucked her against the wall. Kneading her
breasts through the thin material of her dress. Pinching her nipples while she
cried out, her pussy dripping and squeezing him tight, already on the verge of
another orgasm.

“You feel so fucking good!” he gasped into
her throat.

Then they were done talking. It was simply
his cock in her pussy, prickles of sensation washing over her in waves, Damien
angling his cock just right to stroke her g-spot, to make her scream his name.
They finished together, a symphony of satisfaction singing loud and long in the
room.

Damien panted, released her. Her legs loosened
around him. Her feet fell to the floor. He kissed her damp throat, bit the
sensitive spot where her neck and throat met.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,”
he growled. “The celebration just got started.”

The warm Saturday evening air stroked Sasha’s
face as she walked through downtown Louisville toward the side street where she
had parked her car. Her skirt fluttered around her knees, moving with the
rhythm of her meandering stride. She adjusted the canvas shopping bag with asparagus,
purple potatoes, scallops, and fresh herbs she’d just bought from a gourmet
market. Tonight, she would make Damien dinner, pour her love for him into a
homemade meal he would never forget. With a quick nod of acknowledgment, she
moved to the other side of the sidewalk to avoid bumping into a couple
strolling arm in arm and eating ice cream cones.

It had been almost a week since one of the
most incredible nights of Sasha’s life. She could barely believe how her life
had turned around. Damien loved her. Everything in her life was perfect.
Supporters had come out of the woodwork after all the suspicion about the
doping cleared away. She was looking for a new apartment now that she was able
to keep her paychecks again. And best of all, Damien loved her. A smile flashed
across her face.

In the last week, she’d been breaking out
into spontaneous smiles all over the place. At work. In the middle of the line
at the supermarket. Sitting at a table in the coffee shop. In the shower while
the soapy loofah ran over her skin, rough and invigorating like Damien’s
kisses. She was filled to bursting with happiness and it felt incredible.

As she turned off the main street to find her
car, she looked down to open her purse and pull out her car keys. Someone
bumped into her from behind and she looked up sharply. It was a man. He
appeared suddenly in front of her, his face hard and cold. Something about him
was familiar. Her eyes widened as she recognized him. Anthony Barnes. The
trainer from McGreevy Stables.

“Sasha Cormick?” He asked her the question of
her name as if he already knew the answer. Of course he knew her. He had tried
to hire her on at McGreevy nearly a year ago.

She backed away, staring at him in suspicion
with the keys grasped in her hand. Her heart began a frantic beat in her chest.
Her adrenaline surged. She was poised to spin and run the other way back to the
main street.

But he grabbed her arm, slapped a hand over
her mouth. It was musty, dirty, and smelled of rope, horse, and liniment. Her
belly tightened with fear. Her throat locked up in panic. She screamed but the
sound was muffled. She kicked. Fought. Screamed again. But he only grabbed her
off her feet, using his stocky and powerful body to full advantage and wrestled
her into a nearby white van that already had the side door open.

In the van, he slapped a damp cloth over her
mouth and nose. A sharp, sweet smell filled her nose. She drew a deep breath
scream again but immediately felt her vision start to dim. Her ears felt like
they were stuffed with cotton balls. Then everything went gray. Black.

Sasha swam slowly to the surface of
consciousness. Her world rocked from side to side as she gradually opened her
eyes. The van. She was in the van. She blinked at the white ceiling as her
vision cleared. Her arms and legs tingled, prickled, as she came back to
herself. Anthony Barnes!

A startled gasp left her throat. She felt
tape across her mouth, her skin pulling as she tried in vain to cry out. She
opened her eyes wide, trying to pierce the darkness of the van. But she could
see nothing. Light from passing cars and from streetlights slipped in then out
of the vehicle as they drove. Her heart pounded with fear. She tried to move,
but couldn’t. Her hands were tied together behind her back. Her ankles were
roped together, the cords chafing her bare skin.

She twisted around, rolling her entire body
across the dirty floor of the van that was littered with pieces of hay and bits
of dirt. The smell of horses, hay, and sweat was strong around her. A pungent reminder
of a barn. Sasha frantically looked around as her senses returned to her, the
numbness in her arms and legs going away, her hearing returning to normal. She
slid across the van floor, slammed into the side, as it made a turn. Within a
few minutes, they stopped. Her pulse pounded in her throat as she waited for
whatever would come next. Her palms were damp, sweating in her anxiety and fear
as she twisted her wrists against the ropes.

Oh God! What’s happening?

The door of the van abruptly burst open. She
flinched at the sudden bright light of a flashlight in her eyes. The spark of
the overhead light. Anthony Barnes appeared in the opening like a beast from
one of her nightmares. He was eerily composed. Every strand of his salt and
pepper hair in place, the sleeves of his dark blue checkered shirt rolled up on
his brawny forearms, the faded jeans belted and loosely fitted on his body.

Even in the dark, she could tell that his
left forearm had been badly burned. The scars rippled over his skin and up into
the sleeve of his shirt. The left side of his neck and the lower part of his
far were also marked by that old fire. Except for the scars, he didn’t look
like a maniac. And that scared her more than if he had come at her foaming at
the mouth and threatening to beat her to death.

She slid backwards in the van away from him.
But it was no use. He reached in as if she was nothing more than a stubborn
horse and jerked her out by her arms. She cried out at the pain in the
shoulder, the ropes chafing her wrists even more.

“Come, Ms. Cormick,” Barnes said. “I don’t
have all day to train you properly.”

She stumbled when he dragged her out of the
van. Her ankle twisted painfully despite the low-heeled sandals on her feet.
Sasha gasped in pain, struggled to keep her feet even as Barnes dragged at her
arm. She looked around, shocked to see that she was on the property of Taylor
Stables, just down the hill from the burnt out old barn.

Barnes was merciless as he dragged her
through the darkness, the bobbing shaft of light that was his flashlight
illuminating their way through the darkness. He yanked her toward the old barn.
The building reared up, frightening and charred, in the darkness; its days of
usefulness long gone.

Why is he taking me there? What is he
doing?

Fear knocked against her chest from the
inside out. Her breath came in ragged gasps from her throat. Sasha fought him.
She dropped to the ground, gasping as her tailbone hit the hard-packed dirt and
grass. She tried to roll away from him but he stopped her, dropped to his knees
and grabbed her, pinning her against the ground. He breathed heavily on top of
her.

“If you force me to knock you out again, I
will.” His voice rasped in her ear, rough and dangerous.

Then, before she could respond to his threat,
he hefted her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour.
Barnes walked quickly with her into the barn, between the charred stalls, and
under the roof that was half gone, pieces of it eaten away by the fire,
snaggled teeth of burnt wood thrusting up into the night sky. Barnes dropped
her into a pile of musty hay. Her teeth snapped together. She grunted and
curled into herself as pain shot through her hip from her abrupt contact with
the ground. He tied her to the remnants of a stall, lashing her against the
blackened wood.

Then Barnes made a dismissive noise and
turned away from her. He took a cell phone from his pocket. Dialed a number.

The moon above them was bright and thick, its
substantial half disc pouring light down into the barn. It showed Barnes on the
phone with the cell held to his ear, the light from the screen illuminating his
face.

“Good evening. Anthony Barnes here.” He
stopped speaking for a moment, listening to whoever it was on the other end of
the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear what I have to say? I have your
little slut with me.” He paused again, a cold smile moving across his face.
“Yes. That one.” Now, an actual laugh tumbled from him, joyful and truly
amused. “This is not a ransom demand. I just want you to know that I have her.
I’m going to fuck her.”

Sasha shivered at his cold tone. The terror
ratcheting higher in her throat.

“I’m going to fuck her hard until this place
runs red with her blood. Then I’m going to burn her alive just like your family
burned me.” Barnes strolled toward Sasha and she cowered back against the stall
where he had tied her, shivering and crying in her fear, her body swarmed in
alternating waves of heat and cold. She was terrified.

“But she won’t be saved like I was. She’ll die
here in this place and your happiness will be over.” His eyes burned down at
Sasha. “Then you’ll know the kind of hell I’ve been in all these years since
you threw me out.” Barnes knelt down on the ground next to Sasha. Before she
could twist away from him, he grabbed her face, snapping his fingers tight
around her cheeks and mouth.

“You can call the cops, Taylor. You can call
all the powerful contacts you have in your entire self-serving universe, but by
the time you find your little slut, she’ll be a melted and ruined mess you
won’t even recognize.” A frantic voice burst from the other end of the line.
Damien calling Sasha’s name. Barnes laughed and hung up the phone. He released
Sasha’s face.

She sobbed behind the tape sealing her mouth
shut. Barnes only looked down at her, moonlight and the sharp illumination from
the flashlight bringing his face into painful focus.

“You shouldn’t blame him for failing to find
you,” he said as if trying to soothe her. “Taylor isn’t smart enough to figure
out where you are in time. That’s not the kind of game we’re playing here. If
you blame him for anything, blame him for fucking up my life so that now I have
to take it out on you.” He abruptly stood up. Looked over her body, at her legs
and most of her thighs revealed in the dress that had ridden up in her
struggle.

“You’re a hot little piece, aren’t you? Trust
him to get the best of everything, even in the desperate bitches who end up
panting after him.”

He dropped down beside her again, squatting
next to her prone body as she tried to squirm away from him. The burned slat he
had tied her to creaked as she twisted and yanked at the ropes.