Seven
T orch had called it a nest, and he wasn’t wrong, because that was exactly what the fuck it was. I could see my Pres and VP watching me, like they wanted me to say I recognised something, but I didn’t. There was a faintly familiar scent in the air, but the place was a dump, and I’d been in dumps before. I grew up in one, so it really could be nothing more than that.
The place was clearly a squat. It had been dressed up a little, like it had been lived in, but it essentially comprised of just a bed with bedding, and some fabric draped on the walls, to make it look, I don’t know… like a fucking boudoir, and then there were some random boxes in the room. The most unnerving thing was the bed itself though. The bedding was dark red, but again, unfamiliar to me, because it was like seeing a place for the first time.
The bed had a metal frame, but the worst part was the ropes tied at each corner. Restraints . Without even thinking about it, I was checking my wrists, and there were marks. Not painful ones, but clear evidence of those ropes being used on me. Stitch leaned close to me, grabbing my arm, his eyes on my wrists too.
“Fucking hell.” He looked me in the eye. “You wanna wait outside?”
I shook my head. If this was the only chance to see the place, and try to remember anything, then it had to be now. I couldn’t wimp out. I had to check the place out.
Reacher was saying something in a low voice, and then suddenly he and Stitch were the only ones in here with me. It freed me up to think, to react, without so many fucking eyes on me.
“Restraints,” Stitch muttered to Reacher, who cursed.
“We need to find this bitch.”
I rubbed at my wrists. Even though they didn’t hurt, even though I’d never noticed the faint marks from the ropes. Now that I knew they’d been there, it was like I could feel them there now.
“Torch says his phone was just inside the door there. She likely tossed it carelessly, because she never planned to be back here. Either that or she wanted him to find this place. Twisted bitch.”
“It’s not a last minute decision, bringing someone here. This was set up in advance,” I heard Stitch murmur, and I turned to look at him.
“What?”
He groaned, pushing his hair back.
“I’m saying this was planned. Whether it was planned for you or not, I have no idea, but this was already in place, for her to bring her… uh… victim. Maybe it’s not even the first time she’s done this.”
I grabbed my hair, pulling at it, needing the pain to help me focus. The room was too warm. The air too thick. I couldn’t breathe.
“This can’t be fucking happening! You’re telling me now, that not only am I a ‘victim’, but I’m one in a long fucking line of them? This… fuck … this isn’t happening.” I turned to look around the room again, the dark hanging fabric taunting me, hiding the walls, making it look like some kind of porn set. Any other time, I might have appreciated that effort, but not now, not like this.
I grabbed at the silky fabric, pulling hard, and tearing it from the wall. It had been nailed at the top. That meant that someone had taken the time to get on a set of steps, and fucking nail fabric to the walls. That wasn’t five minutes of prep. That was long term planning .
I tore down the fabric at each wall, trashing the place, my breathing coming in heavy gasps. This room. This place. It had seen the one night that I wasn’t in control. The one night that someone took something from me. How the fuck that had even happened, was still something I couldn’t comprehend.
Arms grabbed me, as I started tearing at the bedding. The place where it had happened. Where I’d apparently been tied. Where I’d apparently been used for sex, without even having knowledge of it.
“ That’s enough, brother ,” Reacher muttered into my ear, their iron grip remaining until my energy suddenly left me, and I sagged in their hold.
“This can’t be happening,” I whispered, my legs buckling, until they tried to lower me onto that bed.
“NO!” I couldn’t be there. Not there. And I couldn’t break down like this. I wasn’t some weak ass pussy who couldn’t take being used. I wasn’t some defenceless woman, who couldn’t fight back. I wasn’t some loser, who couldn’t kill when it was necessary. It was time to man the fuck up.
I shook them both free, and cleared my throat, straightening my cut, then my shirt. I took a deep breath, and another.
“Ice needs to check the CCTV in the area, and I want to go to that bar,” I said, staring at them both at last.
“You go there like this, and it’s clear to everyone that you’re a mess. You see her again, you really want her to know what this did to you?”
I stepped closer to Reacher, glaring at him like he couldn’t swat me like a fly for insubordination.
“It did nothing to me. Well, except to piss me the hell off. We find this bitch, and I’m gonna turn the tables on her. You hear me? She’s gonna rue the day she fucked with me. She’s gonna know exactly how this feels.”
I strode from the room, ignoring the brief outburst from Stitch, before Reacher quieted him. I’m done being a wussy little fucking victim. I will find this bitch, and she will pay for what she did. I’ll show her what rape is.
Her
I watched him leave our place, his legs striding confidently from the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked unconcerned. Unruffled. How was he so unaffected by what we did? By what I did to him?
Did he not relish our time together? Did he not look back on it, on the flashes he probably had of our time, and want to do it again? Did he not want to let me take him, use him, and ride him to my own pleasure again?
He hopped back into that van, tapping his hand on the dashboard, while the prospect, who’d stayed in the driving seat, backed up, and drove him away. I continued watching, as the bikers mounted their bikes, and disappeared off, the roaring, rumbling sounds emanating until they were long gone.
I closed my eyes, seeing him again. My biker; the man I couldn’t wait to fuck again. The man who had found his way into my soul. I couldn’t even think of taking another. It had to be him. Again. I just had to figure out a way to make that happen.
My fingers had found their way into my underwear, and I delved them inside me, stroking through the wetness that pooled and seeped at the thought of him, of his cock, deep inside me. Of the way it stretched me, and sent waves of pleasure throughout my body.
I pressed a hand against the glass, my eyes on the doorway to the room where we’d consummated our relationship, for the first, but no longer going to be the only, time. My fingers thrust inside me over and over, as my mind replayed last night for me. His body spread out, tethered, and straining beneath me, as I straddled him, rising and falling onto his cock. His skin had glistened with sweat, heat blooming from him into me, as I ran my hands over his skin. He faded in and out, his consciousness affected by the drug.
He reacted to pain though, because it woke him briefly from his daze. When I raked my nails down his chest, his eyes popped open, his breath hissing out at the pain. For those brief moments, when I brought him out of his stupor, he was with me, in the moment, his eyes on mine. Wide, almost unseeing, while his cock twitched inside me, and his breath rasped out of him. It was beautiful. Magical .
My fingers, and the memory of my biker, in the throes of his unwanted, unconsented to passion, sent me screaming over the edge, my pussy clamping down on my fingers, as my legs buckled, and I dropped to my knees.