011346
LINC
My chin stayed toward Paige, away from my teacher while he re-straddled my lap.
Paige’s suppressed sounds were barely audible, but I could see her helplessly draining her energy, trying to stop a situation my mind was working tirelessly to come to terms with.
I told myself, It’s fine. I could endure some nauseating discomfort if it meant she could get the use of her voice again. If we could come up with a plan.
I can do this for her.
Nostrils flaring, I repeated it over and over again in my head as my eyes pulled up to Jeremy from under my eyebrows.
Sick fuck . I took a deep breath and kept my voice low as I said, “Chains too.”
His head tilted, his eyes lifting curiously. The ease he looked at me with, chained and pinned below him, was unnerving as fuck. My body shifted as much as it could just as I cleared my throat, but my voice was still rough as I clarified, “If I do this. You take off the gag and chains. And give her water.”
The whooshing in my ears became a fucking hurricane.
I didn’t know how he’d react to the demand, but I had to try to gain as much as I could. Something told me the “favors” would cost more and more in a place like this.
There seemed to be rules in here, but they were to some twisted game where none of the spaces made sense, the prize and punishments were unknown and unwanted, and the gamemaker was a fucking lunatic.
The mad conductor of a crooked symphony.
Jeremy pulled in a deep breath then released an audible exhale. “Gag and water, yes. Chains . . . will be determined based on your performance.”
My eyes squinted at his words. Performance.
I became aware again of the cameras.
“The boss has eyes on us already.”
His body covered my view of both of the tripods stationed across from us, so I couldn’t see if any of the rolling lights were on. But a drop of my eyes revealed the handheld camera next to us was off. At least there’s that.
Nothing about it felt like a win, though. There was nothing victorious about my current situation. My mind was fighting the urge to just . . . shut down. It had been since I woke up and saw Paige naked but . . .
Forcing me to kiss him? In front of her?
Despite the man straddling my waist, my eyes needed the small bit of relief only she could bring. Lifting my gaze from the spot I’d been staring at on the couch, my eyes collided with hers.
They were wide, the blue even more bright against her tears and bloodshot stare, silently begging. Begging me not to do this? Begging me to help her? I wasn’t sure, but the desperation in her gaze was pooling heavily with unshed tears.
A frown pulled at my lips. I was caught in the violent winds of depravity. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was. I don’t think right exists here.
But there was no doubt his little choking stunt before was a power move—a warning.
Using the same thumb he’d used to violate my mouth, he pulled my chin toward him and I cringed, sending a small tingle up my otherwise numb arms.
“You ready?” he asked, and his gravelly tone grated just below my skin. Paige’s body weakly writhed and Jeremy’s eyes cut over to her. “You, behave.”
My eyes flinched before they widened with complete fucking confusion, and the words slipped from between my clenched teeth before I could stop them. “Why are you doing this?”
I had convinced myself that his reasoning was unimportant. That since I was certain I couldn’t understand it, it didn’t matter.
But it did.
Of course it fucking mattered. I trusted him. She trusted me to trust him.
Jeremy sighed as his hand timidly moved to my hair again. I swallowed hard, letting him do it. Fighting it was useless, and getting his response was more important.
“Our films are very . . . exclusive,” he explained, “The client requested Paige, but they gave me creative license to cast the male role.” He continued to stare down at me, with this strange twisted peacefulness as he added, “And you get the immersive art thing. You get it. ”
That fucking play?! I most certainly did not get it.
I was just trying to be polite.
Impress him.
But not because I was seeking this kind of attention.
I just . . . I thought . . .
I thought he was . . .
I shook my head, despite his hold on my hair, with another grunt.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what I thought. I thought a lot of things before this very moment. But this kind of thing, it’s the thing that changes you in a chemical way.
Trust will be different now.
People will be different now.
If there even is a time after this. After he forces us to do whatever vile acts this client seems to have requested—certainly he’s not just going to let us go.
I won’t ask that question. Not right now.
“Look, Linc. This will be easier if you treat it as an exercise. Have you ever kissed a man before?”
I shook my head immediately, but my nostrils flared and his eyebrow cocked.
“Never?” he prods.
Ellis kissed me once on Halloween a few years ago. But it was mostly so that Spike and Angel could kiss. But it was a joke. It was Ellis. It wasn’t . . . I don’t know. It wasn’t this.
I shook my head and he asked, “Okay, well what makes you uncomfortable about it?”
“I don’t want to,” I say through my teeth.
“But you’ve never tried it,” he quips back.
What the fuck is this?
All the while Paige was still fucking naked and gagged a few feet away from me while we were playing psycho-babble MadLibs.
Then Jeremy says, “Sometimes, in a scene, it’s about connecting to your motivation. Right, Paige?”
The way he looked at her, the way he was talking to her, had this condescension that was dragging down my spine like sludge. And I fucking hated seeing his dark pervy eyes roam her body.
A growl erupted from the back of my throat, my hips bucking, but the movement was barely noticeable with two hundred-something-pounds on top of me.
Still, it at least pulled his eyes back to me, and his sinister, conniving face sent a sweeping coldness through my veins.
Any remaining familiarity I saw in his face . . . drained away.
This wasn’t the same person I’d known for two years—someone I looked up to or confided in. That person wasn’t real and . . . I hated the final twist of that realization in my chest.
He lowered his face to mine, tugging my hair and tilting my chin up. It wasn’t a hard grip, but just enough to silently remind me once again —I didn’t have a choice.
His minty breath hit just below my nose and the nausea that had been stirring started to rise again. My eyes slammed shut. Suddenly, everything became too real, and I gulped in air through my mouth.
“Hey,” his voice got closer. His fingers loosened in my hair, but still sifting, as his other hand moved to my shoulder. The rough feeling of his cheek as it bumped against mine made me wince before his mouth hovered right over my ear. “Relax. I’ve got you.”
I stiffened, jolting like a Taser had been taken to my spine. He leaned in and my lips instinctively sucked into my mouth.
He gave a small squeeze to my cheeks, forcing my lips back out, but said, “What are the directions, Linc?”
I swallowed, glaring, then grinding out, “Kiss you.”
He leaned down, into my space again, his mouth an inch from mine. “Kiss me how?”
God-fucking-damnit. How I hadn’t snapped a tendon in my neck, or puked all over him was beyond me, but I had never wished something would happen more. Something that put me out of my fucking misery.
With flaring eyes, I finally mumbled, “Convincingly.”
The only thing I could think of was that this was a power move. He’d stripped Paige down to nothing, and while he’d left me clothed for the moment, I was by no means exempt from whatever sick and depraved things he had planned.
He was close enough to my face that his smirk to my response was right below my eyes. I could see the pattern of the stubble on his cheeks, and the itch beneath my skin returned.
Stop. Get this over with.
But he made no move. He didn’t lean in any closer. He was . . . waiting.
Fuck me.
I tilted my head to the ceiling, blinking once before lowering my chin and reluctantly looking at Paige.
I needed her.
Her eyes were wide, heartbroken, and God I just wanted to fucking hold her.
I wanted her mouth.
Her breath brushing my skin.
Her voice in my ear.
“Close your eyes,” I told her, my voice a hoarse whisper. The man on my lap could hear me, obviously, but I didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t want her to see this.
She stoically kept the tears pooling at the corner of her eyes, scrunching them, as a breathy grunt pushed through her nose. After another second, she did as I told her, and closed her eyes.
I did too, keeping the image of her in my mind. But from a different night. Just a few days ago. The moonlight spilling in through the windshield of my car, putting the softest sparkle in her light blue eyes.
Her.
I could convincingly kiss her.
Keeping my eyes closed, I sunk into the splintered awareness of my mind, branching out and creating an alternate reality.
One where the mint smell, warmed and spiced to cinnamon, brightened to citrus. One where the rough, calloused hand cradling my jaw sanded and buffed to the soft, delicate fingers I woke up to yesterday.
I leaned in, still cringing as I lightly pressed my mouth to the lips in front of me.
PAIGE
I couldn’t take it.
The taste of pennies filled my mouth. I must have bitten my cheek. My throat worked to swallow the blood—the only moisture in the desert of my mouth.
What had started as light pecking noises beside me, had grown to wet, heavy breaths—muffled by clasping mouths—a couple of soft groans too.
And they weren’t coming from Linc. The noises were hungry and rattling through my stomach . . . it was him.
In my forced silence, I had decided Mr. Harris didn’t exist. This man wasn’t our teacher, and since I didn’t know who this psycho was, I decided I’d simply refer to him as the Man.
The sounds ebbed and flowed, echoing like surround sound. Slurps and lips smacking. It went on for what felt like forever and with each minute that passed, my lungs deflated. Shriveled.
With my mouth covered, my eyes closed, and the despicable sounds filtering through my ears—sensory deprivation worked my pulse into an explosive frenzy.
I can’t fucking take it.
“ Mmf .”
God, the vile sound of the Man’s stifled mewl makes me dry heave behind the gag. Unable to take the imaginings from behind my closed eyelids a second longer, I slowly opened my eyes, still keeping my gaze downward.
I don’t want to see it. I just can’t be . . . in the dark.
Being stripped of my clothes and silenced was dehumanizing enough.
I tried to tune out the sounds. My eyes traced the hilly threads of the dingy-looking couch. As my head hung heavily, I absently wondered, if I were given the chance—could I smother the Man with this couch cushion? If he miraculously did release my chains?
A heavy sigh pushed through my nose. No. Even under normal circumstances, I probably wasn’t capable of that, but definitely not right now. Dehydrated, weak . . . I couldn’t feel my hands, but my wrists were already cracked and bleeding from fighting against the chains.
My eyes honed in on a loose thread at the corner of the couch cushion, viscerally aware I couldn’t just reach out and grab it, but wishing I could. Like maybe it was the secret way to unravel this moment.
Suddenly, the light sound of chains clinking instinctively pulled my eyes up, as the Man released a deep, sated groan, and my gaze became trapped—stuck like fly paper to the sight in front of me.
The Man—his hips grinding. Linc beneath him. His hairline sweaty, his skin flushed. His mouth. Their mouths. Tongues.
Each disturbing image blew through me so viciously, it felt like they’d been permanently lodged into the walls of my chest.
My insides turned further when I saw the strain in my boyfriend’s neck, between his brows, and white-hot rage tore through me.
One of the Man’s hands was shoved through Linc’s hair —hair meant for my fingers. His mouth moved to Linc’s neck, and my eyes dropped again, unable to watch the pleasure surfacing on the Man’s face.
But that’s when I saw . . . his other hand. The one that had originally been on Linc’s shoulder, and my eyes bulged.
He was rubbing Linc’s dick . . . over his pants.
My arms instinctively pulled, and the pain radiated in my wrists. Immediately, my eyes slammed shut again as a series of hoarse, muffled whimpers pushed against the gag.
Murder was my only thought.
My fingers twisted between the chains. I was mentally draining the life from the Man—strangling him with the chains or smothering him with the cushion— feeling his last breath leave his fucking body.
When this horror show started —when I woke up naked— a variety of sick acts played out in my head. I had started mentally preparing myself for what seemed to be an inevitable assault.
But I could have never predicted this.
With another blink down at the shitstain-colored couch, I let the tears I’d kept in my eyes fall. I felt the moisture soak into the material still covering my face, rubbing salt in the wound.
Linc was doing this to buy me back a basic freedom. A baseline privlege the Man had no fucking right to take away from me in the first place, and the fury boiled through me with a voracity that shook down to my marrow.
The tunneled sounds of the Man’s assault finally slowed, and I breathed heavily through my nose, partially with relief, partially to reroute my rage.
With my arms still up and over, I shoved my face into my bare shoulder, wiping away any indication that I’d been crying.
Any sight of weakness.
My heart hurt so fucking much, but I used my anger to curb the pain. That is, until the Man quietly rasped, “Good boy. Got a little excited there, huh?”
Screwing my eyes tighter shut, my brain rejected the words.
Dead. I want him dead.
Buffy bless, I had never wished more to unhear something. Unsee something.
I waited for Linc’s voice. I’d felt bad about opening my eyes, but I just . . .
I shook my head. I just wanted to be there for him, even though I knew that was impossible. Even though I knew he didn’t want me to see it.
The guilt deepend at the sound of Linc’s ragged breathing next to me, tightening in my own chest. His coughing and gagging clogged in my throat.
Do not cry.
“The deal,” Linc’s voice rumbled, cracking at the end.
Since my eyes were still closed, I couldn’t tell if the Man was still . . . on top of him, or if he’d relieved Linc of that, at least. Though, something told me he was still continuing the torture.
After another second passed I felt weight lift from the couch, but Linc still hadn’t given me clearance to open my eyes.
I wondered if he was still just trying to catch his breath, or if he was steadily swallowing vomit like I had been all night —or however long we’ve been here, I have no fucking clue.
Maybe he just . . . needed a minute.
He was just molested —assaulted— by a man he trusted. Someone I’m pretty sure he had considered a friend, and my heart broke a little more.
Suddenly, I felt a presence in front of me, and my eyebrows sloped down. Hands circled behind my head and after a second, the pressure over my lips, cheeks, and chin lifted.
I sucked in a heavy breath, gasping, and Jesus Christ, the air that finally met my mouth suctioned any remaining moisture away.
Still, my eyes pulled over to Linc. His chin tilted down and his dark hair stuck out—thoroughly tugged—while he continued to take heavy breaths.
His wide eyes were pulsing with . . . humiliation? Shock? It looked like an equal bit of both.
I couldn’t be sure, but my mouth flattened—new anger ablaze. I wanted to reach over and curl into his chest. I ached to take his lips and wipe away that disgusting memory. But more than anything, I wanted to tell him . . .
He forced you, Linc. It’s not your fault.
From my peripherals, I saw an open water bottle appear in front of my face, and my chin reluctantly twisted away from Linc.
The Man stood in front of me, ready to feed me water like a fucking hammster, and holy fuck I wanted to deny it.
But I needed something to help combat the dizziness, the stress. I needed energy to fight back.
In my mind, I drank some of it and then spit the rest back out at the monster in front of me.
But I wouldn’t do it. Linc’s sacrifice would have been for nothing.
Begrudgingly, I opened my mouth and took the water. With nowhere to look but into the Man’s beady, dark eyes, I couldn’t help but notice that he looked at us—Linc and I . . . differently.
Despite the fact he had forced Linc to kiss him, I saw this . . . fondness that wasn’t present in the passive, disinterested way he was staring down at me right now.
After a few more sips, the Man pulled the bottle away from me. I gasped, swallowed—tried not to puke it all back up.
Fingers quickly caught my chin, and returned my eyes to the Man, my jaw clenching.
His light brown hair was disheveled, and there was still a light flush to his cheeks that ground through me.
“What do you say?” he asked.
My eyes widened. If stares could kill, my eyes would have done the deed and were now chopping him into tiny pieces and burying them. Watering and tending to them so I could grow him and kill him again.
He wanted gratitude?
For fucking what?
He twisted my chin to look over at Linc, who had now turned back toward us, and was staring at the Man with a murderous flare in his eyes, just as the Man said, “Your boyfriend earned that for you. The least you can say is, ‘thank you.’”
Bastard. I was grateful for Linc. But not for that. Not that I was ashamed of him, either. Not at all. He didn’t have a choice. But being grateful for what the Man had just done to him felt like appreciating a terrorist act.
My chin remained captive. The pressure of his steady thumb kept my face toward Linc, and my breath shook as I inhaled. Linc’s gaze finally met mine, and I nearly felt the thud behind my eyes and the squeeze to my heart.
They were so . . . green. Shredded like broken ancient moss. The sustained eye contact was enough to lift my chest a bit. It reminded me I was still naked, and I wondered at what point I had become numb to it. But every harrowing detail of the room —of this reality— stood still for just a second, retracted and blurred.
I gave Linc a silent message, one I hoped desperately he understood.
I’m sorry. I love you.
It looked like his eyes wanted to smile just a bit, and I sighed. I could tell the Man wasn’t going to let me go until I followed his order so after my private, secret message to Linc, I said what I was ordered to say. “Thank you.”
The Man’s grip on my jaw tightened slightly. It didn’t hurt, but his fingertips dug into my cheek as he said, “For the rest of rehearsal, you’ll call him, ‘Sir.’ Understood?”
Of fucking course.
Linc muttered a curse as my teeth clenched under the Man’s hold. This guy is completely fucked— probably had a list to the moon and back of psychological issues. And I was gathering that one of those issues might be women . . .
This was the difference I saw earlier. Where Linc’s plight seemed to be from an attraction from the Man, my role seemed to be degradation.
“What do you say?” the Man prodded, still holding my chin.
“Jesus Christ, man. Enough,” Linc all but groaned and I sucked in a deep breath.
I didn’t want Linc to suffer anymore. I didn’t want the asshole bruising my cheek to retaliate. I needed to cooperate until we could come up with a plan.
Don’t do anything stupid.
Taking another breath, through my teeth I said, “Thank you, sir.”
Linc’s eyes fell to the couch again, shaking his head as the Man finally released my chin.
“The chains,” Linc rasped, keeping his face down, almost as if he was trying to summon something. But if I had to guess, his mind was probably trying to wade through the aftershocks of his assault and exhaustion.
God, I wanted the chains off more than anything. I wanted to be in his arms.
Far fucking away from here.
The Man’s chin tilted down to the floor. He stayed there for just a second before lifting his eyes back up. His gaze drifted back and forth between the two of us before landing on Linc. “Okay. You’ve earned it. But . . .” he paused, likely for dramatic effect —creepy fucker— and then added, “You should both know we are in a secure building. There’s a key code to get through that first door you see behind me, and the door past that requires a fingerprint for access. Beyond that, there is armed security stationed at all exits. I’ll be removing the chains, but not the handcuffs. Are we clear?”
A new wave of unease swelled in my throat as the information punched my brain like fists to a fucking boxing bag.
Key code. Fingerprints . . . armed security?
What the fuck was the point of chaining us up like animals if we were in a secured building?
Maybe he’s lying.
Still, my nerves rose. Linc had said something earlier about the equipment. So, it seemed possible the Man was telling the truth. Clearly, there seemed to be quite a bit of money behind this crooked operation.
The Man stood in front of us still, expectantly, and I remembered he’d asked me a question. I nodded, jaggedly. I don’t even remember the question but whatever will get me out of these chains.
He moved toward me, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small brass key. As he stood over me, unweaving the excessive chains, my tired mind tried to gather all the information I could.
We were here to make some fucked up movie for a creep who . . . requested me. No idea how—but the male role wasn’t a request. The Man chose Linc—but his motivation for kissing him doesn’t seem relevant to any of this.
I’m only more confused.
Suddenly, one of my hands fell.
Oh my God.
I willed myself to move it. To pick it up and claw at his face—gouge one of his eyes out with my bare hand—but I couldn’t move it. I couldn’t even wiggle my fucking fingers.
“Oh, fuck.” Linc’s voice filtered through my frustration and my eyes pulled up to him, but he was staring down at my lap.
My eyes slid back to my hand, still unmoving, but I saw now that the skin on my wrist—the skin that had been beneath the metal cuff was cracked, raw, and bleeding down my forearm.
The Man finally picked it back up, securing the wrist once more, tightening the metal over the broken skin. I winced.
Still, there was some relief to not having my arms pulled up and over my head, and I suddenly realized I could tuck my legs tighter, better covering myself. So, I did, but I gracelessly had to use my knees to shift my arms, situating them to drape around my calves, and the cold chains to the handcuffs clinked against my shins.
The Man chuckled and my fingers twitched with the urge to clench my fists. “I’ll get some ointment for your wrists, and get you guys some food. You’re going to need your energy,” he said, then looked at me. “I’m trusting you to stay put, okay?”
Yeah fucking right.
Still, I nodded like the robotic little sex puppet he wanted me to be—but then my eyebrows pinched, asking, “What about him?” My eyes drifted over to Linc, who still had his arms chained to the pole behind him.
The distant, vacant stare in his eyes seemed a little better, but still farther than I wanted.
A heavy sigh sounded from my side, involuntarily pulling my eyes back to the Man as he said, “He earned your relief. You’ll have to earn his.”
The threat left his mouth and lifted, orbiting around us, all-knowing and up where nothing could touch it and everything was possible.
Torture, rape, mutilation—a depraved rotation of all three.
I didn’t want to find out whatever the fuck it meant, but one of the many things that remained unclear was . . .
“Are you going to kill us?”
The Man’s eyebrows hitched before his features hardened again, almost impatiently. “Everyone will be fine as long as we deliver the film.”
The film.
What the fuck is this? There were plenty of legitimate ways to make porn. And I couldn’t be certain, having not been in the industry myself, but I was pretty sure all parties were consensual.
Maybe not . . .
The Man stared at me a moment longer, and I could see a silent warning. Trusting me to stay put.
Evil and dumb.
He backed away and started toward the door.
One, two, three . . .
Twelve steps before he opened the door and left. And not even a second after, a croaked sob pushed through my lips, as I scooted desperately over to Linc.
“Wait, Pip,” he said, but I winced as the prickly-static feeling in my hands started to come back, spreading up my arms in the most intense pins-and-needles sensation I had ever felt.
“Fuck . . .” I whined, still shuffling toward him.
“Pip—” he rasped again, but I huddled against his chest and stuck my face in the crook of his neck, taking a big breath of him.
Silvers. Sea Salt. Woods.
My guy.
He leaned his cheek on the top of my head. “You were supposed to stay put,” he said, pressing his lips into my hair.
“Fuck him,” I huffed. My arms and hands were still zapping back to life as the circulation continued to find its way back.
The ache in my wrists throbbed, and since they were still cuffed, I couldn’t wrap my arms around Linc the way I wanted to, so as my fingers regained their feeling, I twisted the thin material of his T-shirt.
My nipple brushed against the cotton material, and I fidgeted. After a second, Linc sighed. “I wish I could cover you.” My chest softened at the sweet roughness in his voice. Our position didn’t allow me to see his eyes at the moment, but I could feel them scanning the space for anything we could use to cover me. Our bodies slumped, though, seeing the only thing was the dirty shag carpet, partially positioned under the couch.
Pressing my face into his chest, I finally whispered, “I know.” And I did know. He’d do anything for me.
He just suffered a molestation on my behalf.
I can’t let that happen again.
A heaviness darkened around us. There were things to be said. So much to be said. But I didn’t know how long it would be until the Man came back.
I also couldn’t bring myself to leave Linc’s side yet.
I wanted to kiss him. But I wasn’t sure if he’d want that right now, so I just decided to stick close by, let the smell of him try to work through my exhausted and overwhelmed brain.
“What are we gonna do?” I breathed the words involuntarily, almost like the thought had quite literally escaped through my lips.
Linc’s cheek still rested on my head. The room was quiet, save for our breathing and a random clink every few seconds from the chains still holding Linc’s hands.
“Did you hear him say there’s someone else?” he asked.
I shook my head, glancing around the room. Seeing the cameras again, I curled myself further into him.
I could feel his despair at not being able to cover me. It was in the slight lift to his shoulder, the tight inhale of his breath.
“It’s okay,” I told him.
It’s not. But it’s not okay for him either.
I could feel the silent, erratic scheming of both our thoughts, trying to figure out what the Man was going to make us do, while simultaneously trying to plan an escape from a locked-down room.
All the while trying to forget what just happened . . .
My tired brain felt like a runaway train hitting a dead end. After another beat, Linc’s head lifted. “Maybe there’s . . . something. Something in the room you can, I don’t know—hide under one of the cushions—in the back, between them? Use it as a weapon?”
It was as good of a plan as any. Reluctantly, I pushed myself away from him, but only a second after I started to move, I heard him say, “Wait—”
I stopped. My fatigue, and the fact my body felt like I’d been beaten with a small, but very real bat, meant I hadn’t moved very far.
Which made the return of shame to Linc’s eyes even more apparent.
My heart sank, but I held his glassy, forest stare with mine. His gaze was a combination of longing and uncertainty, shadowed with humiliation. I moved closer to him, inching my face forward—close enough I could brush my nose with his.
I swallowed, then quietly told him what I had wanted to say right after it happened. “He forced you, Linc. It’s not your fault,” I whispered between our mouths, then added, “I love you.”
It wouldn’t change what happened. But it was all true. And I hoped it did something for him to be sure that I knew he wanted no part of what the Man just did to him.
He hesitantly leaned in, timidly brushing his lips against mine, like he still wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t like the kisses I’d come to know from him, but it was still all-consuming.
I pressed my mouth against his before my tongue slowly breached the seam of his lips, testing, but then he swallowed my tongue.
I followed his lead, giving him complete access.
Whatever he needs.
He sucked and bit, growling as his mouth suddenly became aggressive, pleading, greedy.
Take it back.
I felt the words through every move of his mouth against mine. I remembered my exact urge to do that very thing, and my only thought was —it would be my fucking pleasure.
My limbs were shaky, but determined, as I straddled his lap, pressing my naked body up against him. His soft groan was all I needed to lean forward and devour his mouth.
We didn’t have time for this. But fucking hell, if we died like this I’m not sure either one of us would regret it.
Despite my nudity, and the hungry way our mouths were moving, this wasn’t sexual. It was untamed connection.
Our pocket of moonlight glittering on dark and ominous waters.
My lips slowed when I was sure I had reached the deepest depths of his mouth. I ended the kiss by nibbling along his bottom lip, with the small licks trailing behind them, knowing it drove him crazy.
I was rewarded with his hoarse grunt pushing against my lips when we finally pulled apart. Even with my tits mere inches from his chin, he kept his eyes on my face—just as he had the whole time we’d been here.
“I love you,” I told him again.
The smallest pinch pulled at the corner of his perfect lips before he rasped, “Till the end.”
Buffy fucking bless, I really did love him. Our stupid, cheesy tagline—the one from our friendship oath. It refueled my fight.
We had to survive this.
We had to survive past this.
My eyes peeked around the room again. “How long do you think we’ve been here?”
He pushed out a heavy exhale, and I used one of my hands to hold his face, my thumb brushing his bottom lip. Leaning his cheek into my hand, he gave a small shake of his head. “I have no clue.”
After a few seconds of us staring back and forth, his eyes shifted —reluctant, but reminding— and I sighed. He pressed a kiss to the tip of my thumb before I awkwardly scooted my way off of his lap—off in search of some makeshift weapon to hide in the cushion.
As I pushed to stand, I almost fell right back down. My knees were shaking, rattling the chains around my ankles, but now that I could feel my arms again, I pulled them up and crossed them over my breasts.
I fought through my wobbling steps over the scratchy threads of the shag carpet in front of the couch, my toes digging in, an attempt to sturdy my steps, while my eyes scanned the room.
The sound stage was dimly lit, but the area by the couch had a few umbrella lights. It illuminated the “set,” which looked like the Ninja Turtles’ living room and the cement walls solidified the cold, dank setting.
My eyes glanced behind the cameras, up at the softbox lights, the sound boom. If I could snap metal, I could crack the boom in half and stick that in the cushions.
A small laugh pushed past my lips. The idea that bludgeoning the Man with the sound boom would somehow make his death louder made me smirk.
But my mouth quickly fell as terror struck my spine like a whip.
Through the small rectangle window on the door, I saw the Man staring directly at me. He was just . . . waiting in a room that led to another door—the one that required fingerprints, I guess . . .
Linc’s voice was suddenly alert. “Pip, what is it? Come back!”
I wanted to go back to him, but my feet were stuck and my eyes squinted back at the Man through the glass.
Had he even left?
The menacing glint to his dark brown eyes was an image I was certain would haunt my dreams for years to come. I swallowed hard.
No. The asshole hadn’t left.
It was a set up.
He knew I wouldn’t follow directions and surprise, surprise, he caught me.
Fuck.
My heart leapt into my throat as Linc barked, “Paige!” and the Man started toward the door—the one to the room we were in—and I panicked.
My chin dropped looking for something—anything.
I haven’t found a weapon!
My eyes suddenly locked on one thing, not a weapon but—I did something. Just as the Man opened the door, I shoved one of the tripods over, crashing the camera down on the concrete floor.
Linc’s shouts echoed with my ankle chains dragging along the smooth concrete as I staggered in the opposite direction of the Man.
He stalked toward me, but in just a few more steps, I was already at the other tripod, knocking the second camera over.
I watched as it fell, panting heavily, but everything seemed to slow down.
The crack to the body of the camera felt like a mallet to my chest, the small pieces of glass and other mechanical bits were my heart, breaking and falling as a paralyzing realization hit me.
What have I done?
Punishing fingers grabbed my waist as an immediate pinch hit my neck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Everyone will be fine as long as we deliver the film.”
The edges of my vision faded as the sounds in the room swirled and combined. The muscles in my face were sluggish but I mumbled, “Pl-Please, don’t hurt him.”
Linc. No. I’m sorry.
It was my last thought before everything went black.