Chapter 15 #3
“Yes. Just a little more.”
My thick arousal drips down my center.
I pant and shake my head from side to side, thrashing against the couch. His fierce growl sends me to the edge of my fucking sanity. It sounds so sexy, my fingers press on my clit.
I think I’m going to die.
I nibble on my bottom lip, almost bruising it.
My chin juts out as I tip my head all the way back and arch my back.
I want him to grip the vibrator and thrust it in me like a wild beast. Ruin me and put me back together. Savor the taste of my cum as he swallows all of it. His marks will shimmer on my sensitive skin. His touch will revive every dead cell in my body until I am reborn.
“Come for me,” he commands.
I open my eyes just in time to see Jason grab the gun from its holster and aim it at me.
“I said, come for me.” The harsh weight of his voice mixes with the turbulence of pain and pleasure that is swimming in my core, driving me over the sweet edge.
I strangle the vibrator as this intense orgasm ripples through me. My loud moans echo shamelessly in the cold space between us. I ride the waves of pleasure, letting go of all the pain, sadness, and grief.
“Good girl.”
I regulate my breathing, put the vibrator away, and zip up my suit.
“Did you read a spicy book when you got that idea?” Jason asks, seeming entirely amused with himself.
I stretch my arms with a blissful smile and grab the radio from the table. “Do I sense a hint of judgment?” I mainly tease because I don’t.
“Never! I’m an avid reader. I read many things, including the smutty ones you seem to like.” His husky voice is filled with desire. “Happy Valentine’s Day. You need a real dick to look at.”
I stare in disbelief for a moment before I open my mouth to say, “A one with a piercing?” I retort.
“Wouldn’t that be something?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug, “If you take your cock out, I would be able to answer your question.”
He doesn’t reply, but his shoulders tremble slightly when he laughs to himself, and the echo carries the sound of it back to me.
He walks to the couch, picks up the guitar resting on it, and places the radio between his thighs as he sits down.
There’s something about him that brings out the brat in me within seconds, as well as the vulnerable girl who needs comfort and someone to talk to.
He is still too familiar to be considered a stranger.
“Are we going to be weird about what happened?” I want to cover my eyes and giggle excitedly at the same time.
This is so wrong.
I still love my husband.
He squeezes his thick thighs around the radio to answer me. I laugh as I watch him do it. “Only if you’re going to make it weird. I had fun. You seemed to have the most fun. Just another day in paradise.”
Yeah, right.
“You’re more romantic than you look.”
“I have my moments.” He chuckles softly and plays something that immediately captures my attention.
Iris by Goo Goo Dolls.
I wonder who he really is behind the mask and jokes, beneath the rugged yet strong exterior he carries so well.
Is he worth fighting with?
Is he worth fighting for?
Why did my grandma choose him?
I reposition myself on the couch, drawing my knees to my chest, resting my hand on top, and propping my chin against it. “Why don’t you sing?”
“Do you want me to give you a reason to shoot me?”
I snort a laugh.
“Want to be my Valentine instead? I’m not a fan of it, but I have nothing else to do around here.” Jason says as the soft tunes he creates reverberate between us.
“Why not? You already saw me masturbating.”
“Are you going to remind me of that in every conversation from now on?”
“Hmmm.” I pretend to contemplate it. “Only if it serves me.”
He nods, eyes locked on me. “Valentine’s or not. I would’ve broken you in half by the end of the night. Respectfully. Or not.”
Flush creeps up my neck and cheeks, an unstoppable heat wave. I try very hard to keep my stupid smile from spreading. Something is pulsing fervently, and I don’t know if it’s my traitorous heart or my swollen clit.
“I left you a present at the door.”
My brows knit together in question.
What?
“When did you come here?” I ask.
“Last night.”
He wasn’t here all day yesterday. I thought he locked himself inside, but he was out the entire time, wandering around this “dangerous” forest. I don’t understand. Which is more dangerous: staying here or taking my chances out there?
“I had to recharge your power station.”
“And how do you do that, exactly? You need to get in.”
He is gone for long periods without saying a word, and he thinks I eat his bullshit like my favorite meal. Not the case.
“The insincerity never ceases to amaze me.” I spill the words like venom. “You could’ve told me. But you prefer to lie, and that’s okay, so don’t expect me to believe you or trust a word that comes out of your mouth.”
“Winona…” he pauses. I don’t think he has anything to say because he keeps the truth to himself. “It’s part of my job.”
An incredulous gasp escapes me. “I’ve heard that one before. Like grandma says, excuses and assholes, everyone has them.”
I’m always left out of the loop. I never get a choice. I never get a say. Even when I think I have, it turns out I didn’t.
I avert my gaze to the horizon.
“I don’t need your help.”
I dash inside, race down to the basement, and begin pacing across the floor.
Am I the crazy one who suspects everything that he does?
Am I at fault?
We’re out here in the middle of nowhere, and it’s not like we came here on a mission together.
He conveniently found a way in. Who’s to say he isn’t the enemy?
Even though he just gave me an orgasm by using his voice.
Hearing a man felt so good after all this time, even though I kept picturing my husband.
He is likely using this method as a decoy.
He’s trying to confuse me.
I won’t let him.
My legs stop abruptly.
I glance at the fridge, channeling all my anger to shove the damn thing out of the way.
Come on!
With lots of panting and internal cursing, my face heats up as I push it, using every bit of strength I can muster.
Nothing.
It doesn’t budge.
There must be something keeping it bolted to the wall—maybe a latch or a switch that loosens a screw or something. I run my hands along the wall around it, in vain.
I huff in annoyance as I open the door and glance at its contents.
“What should I do?”
I remove the enormous pile of frozen fruit packs I use for my shakes and place them in an empty crate on the floor.
My eyes widen as a red button glows in the cool light of the fridge.
What is that?
I push it once and wait for something mysterious to happen. When nothing does, I push it again, and something disengages like a mechanical lock. Identical sounds echo throughout the room until the entire fridge automatically detaches from the wall.
Holy shit!
All this time, it was right under my nose.
I grasp it with both hands and pull it toward me to see what’s behind it.
A tunnel.
The space is somewhat dusty and dim. I cough as I search for a light switch near the entrance, finally finding it on the inside of the tunnel.
A dingy golden light comes from a single bulb at the entrance, so I take a tentative step forward, but I instantly regret it when the fuse blows, plunging me into darkness.
I rush to grab a gun and a flashlight.
This is technically a bunker... I think.
A shiver runs down my body as if someone is blowing cool air on my skin, even though the suit keeps me warm.
I watched a lot of horror movies growing up, and this can end in two ways: someone might lock me in here, or I’m heading straight to my death.
Fuck it.
I need to know where this goes.
My breathing quickens with each step I take. One hand clutches the gun tightly, while the other holds the flashlight.
A shadow on the wall gets larger the farther I go, even when I start to go faster.
Panting, I’m startled by it seconds before I lower my gaze to see a dead cockroach lying on its back right next to my boot.
Cold sweat gathers on my forehead. My muscles are tense. Goosebumps ripple across my skin in continuous waves as an eerie silence surrounds me.
Glancing back, I can’t see the basement I came from or how far in I am.
“Where are you?” Jason’s thunderous voice startles me, and the flashlight slips from my grip. “Answer me, Winona. You can’t disappear like that. I need to know you’re okay. I’m not playing games.”
That’s a start.
I bend to grab the flashlight and put the gun in the holster. “You are that obsessed with me, or is it your job?“ I sneer.
“Hate me all you like, but I’m not here to hurt you.”
“I already know that,” I clarify in a sharp tone. “What I need to know is why I’m here.” I’m not stupid. Every question that escapes my mouth is for a reason. Every choice I make serves a purpose. Unlike him, I don’t follow anyone; I follow my instincts.
The hairs on my nape bristle as I approach a metal door at the end.
“Fine. You want me to be real, Winona. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m following you. What are you doing?”
“Following a lead.” That right now seems like a dead end.
I pull the key necklace from around my neck. If it opens the tower door, it may open this one like a master key.
I try to jam it into the lock with subtle pressure, but it’s useless. That’s not the key.
That’s probably the generator room. But how did he get in, and I didn’t hear him? If he’d opened the front door, it would’ve made noise since I tied the handle to a chair with a rope.
“What about you hurting me?” That question comes out of nowhere, and its meaning remains vague as it echoes in the tunnel.
“I don’t know what that means, but I found what I was looking for. Now I need the key. If you have it, I will spare you the suffering, Jason. Maybe I’ll help you rub one for good measure.” I stare in disbelief at the words coming out of my mouth.
“If that’s what you want. I will leave it next to your door in a few days. But that door leads to the generator room, just like I said.”
“So, why didn’t you tell me before?”
“It wasn’t important,” he says, disappearing when I call out his name.
“Ahhhhhh,” I scream, my voice becomes hoarse at the end. It bursts out of me and stays lodged inside this tunnel.
Finally.
I chuckle in surprise.
A deep ache I cannot shake overwhelms me. Why do I regret hurting him when he feeds me with half-truths? It feels like I’m hurting my other half.
He is not him.
Get it through your thick skull.
I glance to my left, and a row of rusty grab handles runs along the wall all the way up to a square steel door with yellowish rust.
I step onto the first handle hesitantly, testing its strength before I start climbing. Reaching the top, I yank the bulkhead door handle toward me, and the seal rubber loosens, followed by a popping sound of a vacuum as I push the door open.
Leaves and snowflakes swirl around me, and the forest comes alive as I lift myself up.
Not a hint of concrete in sight.
My shoulders shake as I let out a low laugh of relief.
That’s how he wanders through the forest. This has to be a sign that the prison is somewhere nearby.
I rush back inside, shutting everything as it was before, and open the front door to see what Jason left me.
A box.
I bend down to pick it up.
Kicking the door shut with my feet as I enter, I set the box on the counter and tug at the lid.
Green fabric, slightly shimmering and soft, rests inside as my fingers gently brush over it.
My eyes follow the scribbled words on the note.
I see you.
Jason.