Chapter 71 Abigail
ABIGAIL
Agloved hand clamps over my mouth, and I snap awake as pure terror spikes through me.
“Don’t scream, or I’ll have to gag that pretty mouth of yours.”
The worst of my fear abates when I register Dane’s rumbling voice, but the aftershocks of my initial burst of terror crackle through me. Adrenaline floods my system, making my fingers and toes tingle with the primal imperative to escape.
I thrash, but rope tightens around my wrists and ankles. The bindings were loose enough not to wake me, but now that I’m struggling, the rough fibers abrade my delicate skin.
I scream into his hand, and his low hum of cold consideration rolls over my sensitized flesh.
“I warned you not to scream. You chose this,” he informs me just before his fingers dig into my jaw.
I cry out at the flare of pain, and my lips part. The shocked sound is immediately muffled when he shoves something into my mouth. I recognize the lacy texture on my tongue: my panties.
I shake my head, trying to force them out of my mouth.
But he’s prepared. A length of black cloth draws tight between my teeth, forcing the underwear deeper into my mouth. He secures the perverted gag with a firm knot at the back of my head.
My growled curse is garbled, and he simply laughs at my predicament.
More rope loops through the cuff around my wrists, securing them to the bindings around my ankles so that I’m forced to bend at the waist. Even if I could get to my feet, it would be impossible to run away.
That doesn’t stop me from trying to fight.
I ball my hands into fists and swing wildly, throwing my entire body into the attack.
He reels back, easily evading my clumsy attempt to resist him.
He clicks his tongue in reprimand, and that’s the last thing I hear before a thick black cloth hood drops over my head. His strong arms close around me, cradling my bound body to his chest. I twist and writhe, but he holds me firmly.
Several racing heartbeats later, he places me down on my side on padded leather.
The back seat of a car?
My fingers grope at my surroundings, and I feel the familiar shape of a buckle.
Yes, I’m in a car. I barely hear the engine rev through the thick hood, and then we’re moving. I’m completely disoriented, and despite the fact that I know I’m completely safe with Dane, fear sparkles through me.
I allow myself to sink into it, loving our dark game.
I’m not sure how long we drive before the car comes to a stop. My heart hammers against the inside of my ribcage, and my fingers shake with the force of my unspent adrenaline. My clit pulses in time with my racing heartbeat, and my nipples are tease against my pink silk nightgown.
His hands are on me again. There’s tension on the ropes, then a sudden release of pressure. He’s severed the one that connects my hands to my feet. Then the binding around my ankles falls away. I’m free, other than my tied wrists.
He helps me out of the car, and I feel cool, damp grass beneath my bare feet.
He must think that my bound wrists and the hood will keep me subdued while he leads me wherever he wants me to go, but he’s mistaken.
I extend my elbow and throw my body in the direction of his torso, driving it deep into his stomach. He releases a low grunt, and his hands fall away.
I reach up and tear the hood from my head as I lurch in the opposite direction. It takes a moment for the night to coalesce around me, but I don’t stop running in the time it takes my vision to focus.
I’m several paces away from him when he growls my name.
Giddy fear thrills down my spine, and my maddened laugh is muffled by the gag. My hands are still tied in front of me, so I can’t waste time fumbling at the knot behind my head. Instead, I devote my full focus to putting as much distance between me and my assailant as possible.
My feet pound the soft earth, and my breath begins to saw in and out of my lungs as I sprint toward the ruined abbey. There’s no shelter up here on the clifftop, nowhere to hide. The museum and café will be locked, and if I tried to break in, an alarm would probably go off.
I don’t want anyone to interrupt my twisted game with my husband.
I’ll take refuge in the shadows of the abbey. If I can evade him and then circle back to the car, I might be able to drive off without him. That would be disappointing, but the shock on his smug, handsome face would almost be worth it.
“Abigail!”
He’s coming after me. Whatever damage I managed to inflict has barely slowed him down.
I slip into the abbey, running beneath the skeletal arch of the ruined building. The moon is full overhead, far too large and bright on the cloudless night. The only advantage is the long shadows cast by the ancient stone pillars.
I duck into one of them and press my back against the pillar. Damp seeps through my thin nightgown, and I shiver at the chill. It’s a shocking contrast to my flushed skin, and the dueling sensations only heighten my physical awareness of an encroaching threat.
He’s almost completely silent, appearing like an otherworldly being in the moonlight. He isn’t even bothering to run after me; his confidence in my helplessness sets my teeth on edge.
I hold my breath and wait for him to stroll past me. When he’s twenty paces away, I sneak out of my shadow and try to duck into the adjacent section of the ruin.
“There you are.” He says it with warm indulgence, but my heart leaps into my throat.
I start running again.
But he’s always been faster than I am, his long strides eating up the distance between us. My toes sink into the turf, and I put on a desperate burst of speed.
His weight slams into me from behind, and he tackles me to the ground, turning our bodies at the last moment so that he bears the brunt of the impact. I thrash out of his grasping arms, but he quickly rolls, pinning me with his weight.
Something silver glints in the moonlight, and I go still before my brain fully registers the wickedly sharp hunting knife. The cold blade kisses my throat, the lightest scrape that makes my skin crackle and spark.
“You’re going to be my good little plaything now.” He smirks, his perfect face demonically handsome.
“Fuck you!” My insult is ruined by the gag, but he seems to understand.
A slow smile sharpens his features. “My pretty captive is so proud and defiant. I will relish stripping you down to nothing. By dawn, you’ll do anything to please me.
You’ll beg for my cock, and if you’re good for me, I might fuck your sweet cunt instead of your mouth.
” He lowers his face to mine and brushes a kiss over the gag.
“If you’re bad, I’ll claim your tight little ass. ”
I try to curse at him again, but all that elicits is a soft, delighted laugh. His eyes glint in the moonlight, cruelly beautiful.
My bound hands shove at his chest, but he easily grabs them and pins them above my head. His other hand holds the knife steady at my throat.
He cocks his head at me. “You don’t seem to fully grasp your predicament.
You still think you have a hope of fighting me off.
But there’s nothing you can do against me.
You’re so fragile. I could crush you without a second thought.
” His hands tighten around my wrists to the point of pain before releasing the pressure.
“I won’t damage you, but I will punish you if you don’t behave. ”
The tip of the knife drags along the column of my throat, between my collarbones, and down to the lace neckline of my nightgown.
“Don’t you dare,” I try to warn him through the gag.
He shakes his head at me as though he’s disappointed in me. “No growling, pet. I’d much rather hear you purring for me.”
The knife hooks beneath the lace, nicking the delicate material.
I go utterly still, primal survival instincts freezing my muscles as the blade nears my heart.
My nightgown parts at the slightest pressure of the knife.
He takes his time destroying it, watching me intently as he tears the silk in two.
With each passing second, I fall deeper into his dark green eyes, as though I’m under some sort of spell.
Erotic tension crackles between us, heating the chilly, damp night air.
With one final tug, the hem of my nightgown tears. He makes quick work of severing the two thin straps at my shoulders, and the garment pools around my naked body.
“What shall I do with my pretty captive now?” he muses.
The knife drags along my collarbones, the lightest scrape without breaking my skin. He traces the line of my sternum, his glittering gaze fixing on my tight nipples.
“You like this,” he observes. “My kinky little plaything. Are you wet for me?”
I shake my head in wild denial, even as I can feel the wetness of my arousal coating my inner thighs.
“Don’t lie to me,” he warns.
I shake my head again, this time in protest as he directs the knife toward my pussy. I stop breathing when the cold flat of the blade kisses my clit.
“Even in the moonlight, I can see your cunt glistening for me,” he admonishes.
He releases my wrists so that he can tweak my nipples, and pleasure arcs straight from the abused buds to my vulnerable clit. A garbled sound of carnal fear catches behind the gag, and he shushes me gently.
“I promised not to damage you,” he soothes me. “But you have to learn to behave. Now, be very still for me when you come.”
He says it as though my orgasm is a foregone conclusion, something he can command with a single word.
And he’s earned every ounce of that arrogance.
With every sharp twist of my nipples, my body winds tighter for him. My clit pulses madly against the cold blade, a frigid reminder of his order for me to remain still. His control pushes me over the edge, and I whimper out my rigid orgasm.
“Good girl,” he praises. “You like my knife?”
The blade finally, mercifully, leaves my clit, and he flips it in his gloved hand. The rounded hilt presses against my wet pussy, and I shake my head in denial. My pride can’t bear it.