Chapter Thirteen
I stood motionless for the best part of a minute, maybe two, hoping my eyes would adjust enough to the darkness for me to make out something.
Anything.
But despite it being such a damn cliché, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face when I lifted it. The brief glimpse of the corridor before the lights went out had shown it to be empty.
Was it still?
“Hello?” I called experimentally.
No answer.
I reached out for the wall on my right and used it to guide me forward. I guessed there was more than one way to blindfold someone. What was it with this place and its determination that I shouldn’t see anything?
I slowed when I reached where I thought the stairs might begin, unwilling to risk tumbling down them. Eventually, after a series of painfully cautious steps, I found the top one and paused to listen. It was hard to hear anything over the rapid staccato of blood pounding in my ears.
“Whoever you are,” I called, “this isn’t funny.”
Same result as before.
The stairs were never-ending. More than one flight. At the bottom lay another corridor. I followed it to a bend.
Then another.
And another.
Was it a maze?
Could you even have a maze inside a building?
I didn’t think so, but it sure as hell felt like one. After everything I’d witnessed and experienced in Wonderland, I couldn’t rule anything out. More turns. More dead ends. All the while, darkness pressed down on me.
If it was a maze, how were you supposed to find your way out blind when they were enough of a challenge when you could see?
What if I wandered around in here forever?
Not forever. Eventually, I’d starve.
That reminded me I hadn’t eaten a single thing since arriving. Food would incur another debt, though.
The thought almost made me laugh.
What had Tom Cheshire said about the people he’d labeled the unfortunates?
That they’d never left. Maybe they all owed debts they could never repay.
Maybe I’d become one of them if I didn’t learn to beat this place at its own game.
The idea filled me with a desperate determination to pay off this damn debt, no matter what it took.
“Hey!” I shouted.
My voice echoed away into the darkness.
“You wanted me, so come and get me.”
Something in the air shifted.
Not physically. Instinctively.
The prickling certainty that someone else was nearby.
I turned in a slow circle, trying to use senses other than my eyes.
Where?
Nothing.
Then―
Breathing.
Behind me.
I spun around so fast I nearly lost my footing, my heart jumping into my throat. “Who are you?”
“Shhhh.”
Nothing else.
Just that single sound.
A hand landed in the center of my chest. At least, I assumed it was a hand. It pushed me backward until a wall stopped me from going any further. Then it slid higher, settling directly over my heart. The bastard could probably feel it trying to punch its way out of my ribcage.
“Yeah,” I said, determined to claw back some dignity. “I’m about to have a heart attack. That’s what happens when you trap someone in the dark with no idea what else is in here with them.”
The hand remained where it was.
“Is this how you get your kicks? Terrorizing people?”
Silence.
If not for the steady pressure against my chest, I might have thought he’d vanished.
“What do you want?”
The hand moved.
Across my collarbone.
Up my throat.
Fingertips brushed my cheek in something dangerously close to a caress.
Could he see me?
Probably.
He’d found me easily enough.
The knowledge left me feeling strangely vulnerable, even though it really wasn’t any different from the blindfold.
His fingers slid into my hair.
A moment later, pressure settled on the crown of my head.
“Right,” I muttered, understanding the intention immediately.
It occurred to me as I sank to my knees that I probably should have offered at least a token protest.
Got to pay the debt.
Yeah, that was it.
No other reason.
Because what kind of sicko would I be if I were into this?
It would be twisted for my pulse to kick up a notch as I ran my hands over muscled thighs. It would be even worse to be hard.
I focused on practical details instead.
Trousers, not jeans, the fabric too soft to be denim.
Information. Useful information.
Anything that kept this feeling like a transaction instead of whatever else it threatened to become.
Suck his cock and get out of here.
Easy. Simple. Nothing I hadn’t done in my younger years. Maybe not in the pitch black, but certainly with men I’d only just met and never seen again after the exchange of blow jobs.
The bulge beneath his trousers told me he was already half-hard before my fingers even found the zipper.
Kinky fucker.
“Is this what you do?” I asked as I undid the button and eased the zipper down. His underwear came with the trousers when I pushed them lower. “Prey on men in the dark? You must be one ugly bastard if this is the only way you can get someone to suck your dick.”
I didn’t know what reaction I’d expected. Anger, maybe. It wasn’t the low, throaty laugh that rumbled above me.
He found me funny.
Great.
Let’s see if he was still laughing when I made him come in record time. With that in mind, I got to work.
He was bigger than I’d expected. Bigger than most of the cocks I’d sucked, including Warren’s.
I shut that thought down immediately. I didn’t need to be thinking about Warren while I was doing this.
His abduction might have kicked off this nightmare, but he wasn’t responsible for the traps I kept walking into.
That was all me.
I started with my tongue, licking a line from base to tip and back again before teasing the slit. Then I took him to the back of my throat, fighting down my gag reflex and reminding myself that this was about making him come quickly rather than my personal comfort.
After only a couple of bobs of my head, fingers fastened on my cheeks, controlling the pace and depth. He was gentle at first and then became more insistent until he was fucking my mouth and I had no choice but to hold on and take it.
I’d like to say I hated it.
The throbbing cock trapped inside the leather trousers gave that away as a lie.
His pre-cum tasted sweet. Ridiculously sweet. Like he lived on pineapple.
Maybe he did.
He shifted the angle, pushing deeper, and a muffled groan escaped me before I could stop it.
I hated myself for that sound.
Could you hate something and love it at the same time?
Apparently.
I hated being here. Hated that, for the second time that night, with two different men—or was it four?—I’d been stripped down to nothing but sensation, left with nowhere to hide.
But I loved the feel of him sliding over my tongue. Loved the tremor that had started in his thighs. Most of all, I loved the small gasps and involuntary sighs that slipped free as he edged closer to climax.
Would he come down my throat?
Probably.
And the worst part was that I wasn’t even mad about it. I slid my knees further apart and palmed my aching cock through the leather. It was woefully unsatisfactory. I endured it for less than a minute before freeing myself. If he could see me, then so fucking what?
It was dry without lubricant. Normally, I’d have used spit, but there was no way he was letting me pull off long enough for that. Not with the way he was thrusting into my mouth.
Dry would have to do.
It had only been a couple of hours since I’d last come. My cock didn’t seem to care.
Greedy bastard. It wanted another orgasm, and it was getting damn close to achieving that goal. I’d barely finished the thought before he pulled back, the pressure on my cheeks vanishing.
“What…?” I sounded like I’d been gargling with razor blades. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Don’t you want to come?” That sounded no better.
Hands fastened beneath my armpits, hauling me upright.
Big cock.
Muscular thighs.
Strong.
I hadn’t finished compiling the list before my face was shoved into the wall. He dragged my leather trousers down to mid-thigh and dug fingers into my hips. A harder grip than the one he’d used on my face. A cock pressed against my hole for the second time that night.
I arched instinctively, making access easier as he pushed inside.
God, yes.
Much better than my hand.
Although I had that too when he wrapped a hand around my cock and stroked in time with his thrusts.
Slow fucking soon became pounding. Relentless, and oh so fucking good.
Every inch he gave, I took. And then pushed back for more.
Who the hell had I turned into?
Teeth grazed my neck. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to make me think he might. A tongue followed, soothing the sting. Then he did the same to my shoulder. All while maintaining the same fast and furious rhythm, driving both of us to the brink of coming.
His orgasm hit first. Mine came seconds later.
It left me boneless and breathless against the wall, his body still pinning me there.
No condom.
Again.
How had I let that happen twice? His weight settled heavily against me, and I tried to summon some hatred. It proved impossible, the feeling of lassitude too great. I closed my eyes and drifted for a moment, exhaustion—both physical and mental—making me feel like I could sleep.
The sharp sting of his withdrawal from my body dragged me back.
“Now what?” I asked the darkness. The only answer I got was the sound of footsteps retreating. “Are you just going to leave me here? Answer me!”
Nothing.
This place was so twisted.
I thought that even before the lights snapped back on to reveal an empty corridor.
I should have been relieved that there was no one there, given my trousers were still around my ankles.
I hauled them up and fastened them with fingers that weren’t entirely steady.
Then I searched the walls for hidden cameras.
If they existed, they were well-concealed. Pinhole lenses, maybe. Impossible to spot without knowing exactly where to look. I didn’t hang around to inspect it. If I’d been filmed again, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
In the light, the corridors looked far less maze-like. A few minutes of searching brought me to a door. I took a deep breath before pushing it open.
There could be anything on the other side.
Dahlia.
An orgy.
Tom Cheshire grinning at me.
Or, knowing my luck, all three at once.