7. Eve
7
EVE
T here’s no clock in his bedroom. Time turns into my enemy. Minutes fade to hours as I sit and watch the sun creeping slowly across a crystal-blue skyline from behind six locked windows and a pair of balcony doors that refuse to open no matter how hard I rattle them. I’ve counted every pane of glass and every chip in every frame more times than I care to remember. These are the delicate bars of my prison cell, but his threats are the ones that really hold me captive.
Another interminable, tear-stained night gives way to another hopeless dawn, and soon the sinking sun is setting fire to that unfamiliar horizon again. I spend my incarceration searching for clues as to where in the world I might be. The heat and humidity suggest somewhere off the coast of Africa. The plush palm trees and cerulean sea remind me of an ad I once saw on the subway in New York. But this is no paradise. I’m a prisoner, kept here at the whim of a man with no kindness or conscience.
Three times a day the lock turns and a young Hispanic woman with shoulder-length, copper colored hair delivers a tray of food to me. She keeps her eyes on the floor. There’s never a flicker of interest my way. I’ve tried speaking to her, asking for my captor, and then demanding to talk to him, but she shakes her head each time as if she doesn’t understand my words.
The food she brings is bland and simple—bread, water, a vegetable broth, and the occasional piece of fruit. He doesn’t want me to starve, but he’s tightening his grip on me just the same.
I’ve been given no clothes to wear. I only have this bedsheet. He’s humiliating me, and his message is simple yet effective. If he’s denied the pleasure of my body, I will suffer the cost.
There are no books to read. No TV set. There’s nothing to pass the time, except for my thoughts. But that’s the whole point… I see it now. He’s left me to rot away in this cage with nothing but my imagination running wild.
It’s a taste of what my brother must have felt during the last days of his life when he was locked inside the prison of his mind while his body was wasting away in front of us.
I think about my parents. If they survived the hospital explosions, do they think I’m dead? This crucifies me more than anything. The ugly scars from my brother’s passing are still etched upon their hearts. I doubt they’ll recover if they’re forced to bury both of their children.
I have to get out of here alive .
I will see them again.
I think about my captor frequently too, more often than I’d like. He’s a foreigner, but there’s something so American about him. His English is excellent, his accent faultless. Has he lived in my homeland?
I know his name, but I refuse to call him that, even to myself. I want to dehumanize him as much as possible because it makes him easier to hate. But who is he, my beautiful tormentor? There are no clues hidden in this room. The white walls are devoid of personality. There are no picture frames or photographs, the furniture is sparse and functional, and the walk-in closet is empty of his clothes.
The man walked into a hospital with every intention of killing my father, a DEA special agent. Surely that makes him some kind of mercenary or assassin? At least that would explain his military training. It also makes him an employee for one of the cartels. Who else would want my father dead?
Was my hunch right?
Did he get too close to the Santiagos?
Is this man working for them?
That night I lie awake piecing together everything I’ve learned about the cartel. Two brothers from South America. No first names. No recognizable faces. Billionaire criminals who manipulate the narcotics game from the shadows. Master puppeteers who control the strings of this whole dirty business.
Does my captor hold the key to uncovering their true identities? Is this my chance to get close and expose them as the immoral, murdering sons of bitches that they are?
I make my decision then and there. I’ll give him what he wants. I’ll keep my mouth shut and my legs open. I’ll whore myself to this man. I’ll make him trust me, and then I’ll bring every single one of those bastards down.
I’m not doing it for myself.
I’m doing it for my brother.
I sense him, even before I’m fully awake. He’s sitting in that chair again, wearing black jeans and T-shirt—a dark and dangerous juxtaposition to the lightness of his bedroom.
Watching.
Waiting.
I ignore him for as long as I dare, putting off the barrage of heartache that’s coming my way. I’ve spent the last two days demonizing this man, believing he’s nothing but a savage with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. But now that he’s here, smelling like he does, looking so damn something sprawled out across that chair, my feelings are switching from hate to lust again.
“I know you’re awake, mi alma.” He sounds amused.
“If I keep my eyes shut, it’s easier to pretend you’re a bad dream,” I retort, deliberately turning my back on him.
He likes it when I challenge him. It turns him on, and that’s the aim of this dangerous game I’m playing now.
As expected, he exhales with a hiss. “I see…my angel is still defiant. How long must we continue with this charade?”
“Until you set me free.”
“Come now… Have a little fun with me first.”
“Not with you. Never with you.” I tense and wait for the bedsheet to be ripped from my body again .
“Then I’ll save that pleasure for later. Have a drink with me, instead.”
It’s more of a statement than a question.
He circles the bed and parts the mosquito net to show me the bottle of wine in his hand. Taking my stunned silence as approval, he drops the net, and I hear the sound of liquid being poured into a glass.
“Up,” he orders, taking a key from his jeans pocket and walking over to the balcony doors with two glasses of red in his hand. The same damn doors he’s kept me locked behind like an animal for days.
Holding fast to my plan, I rise from the bed to knot the white sheet across my breasts and follow him outside. As soon as I cross the threshold, my eyelids flutter shut in bliss.
Freedom.
Not caring if he’s watching, I tip my head back and gulp in great mouthfuls of the salty sea air while relishing the sensation of the night on my skin. It’s a welcome reprieve from my cage, no matter how temporary, and it’s a grave mistake on his part. I’m feeling stronger, bolder, and more determined than ever to get the hell out of here alive.
“Take it.”
He hands me my wine. I accept it without thanks. He can take what he wants from me, but he still doesn’t deserve my manners. I neglect to tell him I don’t drink. That it’s just a prop for this part he’s making me play.
Shuffling over to the edge of the balcony, I glance down at the drop on the other side. I reckon I could make it without too many broken bones.
My captor follows my gaze and laughs. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother. You’ll soon find your options are limited.”
My cheeks flush, more from anger than embarrassment. For a fleeting moment, I consider the unthinkable of taking my chances in the wilderness instead of spending another second here with him.
I’m losing focus.
Think about Ryan.
But the only memory that springs to mind is of my brother teasing me for being so serious all the time. For being the good girl. For following the rules. For living my life so far from the parameters of reckless that I barely exist anymore.
“We’re celebrating,” I hear him say, holding his glass up to mine. There’s a sharp clink as they collide, more from his doing than mine.
There’s a crude, primitive look on his face. I’ve seen it once before after my father returned home from hunting last year. He’s a predator fresh from the kill. Wherever he’s been for the last few days has proved rewarding for him, and he wants me to applaud his success.
“Your parents are alive.” He watches my reaction carefully. “Your father is awake, and your mother escaped with minor cuts and bruises. I sent someone to check on them, so raise a glass to me, my angel,” he adds with an edge to his voice. “It’s time to loosen up. Here’s to irritations, big and small.” He drinks deeply, never taking his eyes off me.
“Let me go to them,” I say quietly. “Let me see for myself.”
“No.” His expression darkens. He expected gratitude from me, not more conflict. “You wanted to know if they’re still alive. Isn’t this the information you’ve been pining for? Forget them, mi alma, ” he says with a dismissive wave. “ They’ll learn to forget you too, soon enough.” He drains his drink, reaches for the bottle, and then pours himself another.
“I will never forget my parents, and they will never forget me!” Lava courses through my veins at his careless words. “How dare you try and dismiss them from my life. What gives you the right?”
“The right ?” He has the audacity to laugh at me. “Haven’t you already figured it out, Eve, or do you require another two days of nothing but bread and isolation? I dictate the rules in this world.”
“You won’t erase my family from my thoughts. I won’t let you!”
“Who says you have a choice?”
His lips twist. His mood switches. He tosses his wine glass away, and it smashes against the side of the balcony.
He comes for me then… Tall, handsome, intimidating as hell. He grabs the back of my hair and tilts my chin upward, tugging away the bedsheet at the same time.
“Did you think that throwing me tidbits would change things?” I gasp out, covering myself as best I can with my arms and hands. “You’ve kept me caged with no clothes, barely any food… Go on then, fuck me. But you’ll never have my respect or my desire.”
He laughs again and shakes his head. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. Do you think I don’t feel the way your body quivers whenever I touch you, or how you moan ecstasy into my mouth whenever I play with you here ?” He pinches my left nipple between his thumb and his forefinger, and I wince in pain. “Your body betrays you, time and time again, Eve Miller. But you’re right about one thing… I am going to fuck you.”
He grabs me by my wrist and drags me inside, ripping open the mosquito net and hurling me onto the bed. By the time I recover, he’s already naked and climbing in next to me. I try to bolt to one side, but he tips me onto my back and pins my lower body to the mattress with his hips.
“Stop!” I cry, but there’s a lack of passion behind my plea. My senses are exploding from the heat and the length of him pressed tight against my bare skin. That beat is back, cascading like an avalanche between my legs.
His erection lies heavy and thick between us as he starts grinding his body into mine. He wrenches my arms above my head and holds them captive there, kissing me hungrily, nipping at my lower lip, demanding entry, and then overwhelming my mouth with his tongue. Before I know it, my legs are parting to increase the friction, and I’m kissing him back with the same intensity.
“Are you a virgin, mi alma ?” he demands harshly.
I shake my head, and I watch his eyes narrow and darken. I’ve disappointed him with my reply. I’m not as pure as his endearment suggests.
There’s a new roughness to his touch. It’s like he’s punishing me for it. He releases my hands to work his mouth down my body, tasting every part of me, pausing to feast on my nipples, and dividing his time equally until they’re both tender and sore.
I’m cut adrift on a golden haze of sensations until I feel his breath between my legs. Startled, I try to twist away from him. It’s too intimate. But he just forces my thighs wider apart as his tongue follows an unflinching line up through my folds before circling my clit.
Retracing his route, he rims my opening and then drives his tongue deep inside me as his fingers move higher to continue the pressure .
“Oh my God!”
I’m writhing beneath him, driving my heels into the mattress in a bid to control the chaos threatening to devour me. No, no, no. Why is my body acting like this? I hate him. I hate him. Still, I dig my fingers into his hair and arch my back as he continues his assault. My core is burning with a delicious fire, and I can feel myself skidding closer and closer to that precipice…
With a cry, I come harder than I ever have before, grinding my pussy into his mouth as the waves of pleasure tear my soul apart.
He returns to my lips, kissing me crudely, viciously. Giving me no time at all to recover. I can taste the sweetness of my arousal on his lips. His stubble is smarting my skin.
“Give yourself to me,” he orders, settling himself between my legs, his erection gliding over my opening. I’m so wet for him, and he knows it.
“Yes,” I gasp out, pushing all thoughts of betrayal and shame aside.
In response, he powers forward on a single, brutal thrust. He’s as hard as stone and big. Too big . I scream in pain, and he freezes, hovering over me, my face imprisoned between his massive forearms, his dark eyes scorching into mine.
A look of understanding passes between us that shocks me even more than the intensity of my orgasm. It’s the hint—a whisper—of a budding connection that goes way beyond this bedroom.
“Relax, Eve,” he soothes, swaying his hips from side to side, loosening my core and sliding in even deeper. “I’ll only hurt you if you don’t.”
“It’s too much,” I whimper, placing my palms against his chest. Him, his touch, the strength of this bad desire.
“You’re wrong, my angel… We’re only just getting started.”
Another look passes between us, and in that moment, I believe every word he says.
Easing out of me, his next thrust is much less violent. Pain starts to intermingle with pleasure as he continues to move at this new, measured pace—acquainting our bodies, and deliberately hitting a sweet spot inside me that’s flooding my core with need.
His stamina never wavers. The heat of his skin is skimming across mine and creating the kind of friction I can’t get enough of.
My stomach muscles are coiling again, and then I’m crashing, headfirst, into a wall of pleasure. At the same time, I hear him groaning long and deep into my hair. There’s a sharp jerk of his hips as he comes too, his cock lengthening and thickening as he works his climax into me.
He pauses to rest his forehead against mine, intermingling the sweat from his brow with my own. “I’m not done yet, mi alma ,” he murmurs, and before I can stop him, he’s flipping me over and the smooth head of his cock is pushing up against my sex again. My eyes flutter open in shock. Despite his orgasm, he’s still rock-hard.
Positioning himself, he drives back into me. I’m on all fours, my hands fisting the sheets beneath me, as he starts to move—his powerful thrusts jolting my body forward.
There’s no preamble here. I’m under no illusions as to what this is—cold, hard, fucking—but the skill with which he’s taking my body is fragmenting my every thought. There’s nothing but the feel of him, the smell …
Minutes. Hours. I have no idea how long he takes me like this, but time will never be my enemy here. Not when he’s forcing me on through these constant waves of delirium. Every nerve is screaming, aching. My breath is ragged and uneven. And still this relentless pounding.
My arms are tiring. I can barely support myself. My knees keep slipping out from under me, and only his vise-like grip on my hips is holding me steady, until finally, finally , he comes with a guttural roar.
Collapsing forward against the headboard, we stay locked together for ages, his breath lacing the nape of my neck, the air around us pulsing with sex and sweat; the room silent, save the sound of our pounding hearts.
There are no words, no adjectives, to describe the power of what just happened. It feels like this man, this maleficent devil, has shattered my body into a million pieces.
His weight is crushing me, but I’m too weak to push him away. He seems to realize this as well. Sliding out of me, he guides me back down to the bed until I’m splayed out on my front. He tucks the sheet around my lower back and kisses my bare shoulder. He starts to say something, but his words fuse with my exhaustion, and I’m fast asleep before he finishes.
The next thing I know, bright sunshine is streaming in through the closed windows, and the bed is cold and empty again. I lift my aching head from the pillow and gaze in total despair at the locked door. I gave myself completely to him last night, and my situation has only worsened.
Before yesterday, he only held my body captive.
Now, he has a grip on something else as well.