Love Obscene (Obscene Duet Book 1) Page 3

  To have her warped and molded around my finger would make me feel on top of the world. Women were usually simple. Make them laugh, pretend to give a shit when they gossip, fuck them hard, and feed them food.

  I knew my Katie was complex, but I also knew what she wanted most of all was affection.

  “I know how to handle it.” I returned the grin he gave me, feeling much more confident with my plan of action.

  “That’s why you’re my son. Just remember.” He leaned forward and retrieved a manila folder from the coffee table. “You can show them who you are, but never tell them your secrets.”

  “Well, that would ruin everything.” I scoffed at the notion. There was way too much shit she didn’t need to know about.

  “That it would. Now, let’s discuss how we handle the rest of our ‘situation’.”

  Chapter Ten

  Nothing can prepare you for waking up, disoriented, in a strange, foreign room, completely unaware of where you are.

  The mattress beneath my back was much softer than mine. My clothes had been exchanged for a baby blue, chiffon chemise, and a piece of cotton was on my left arm, underneath a bandage.

  I was in a large bedroom decorated with the warm colors of Sahara Beige and Light Elm. Glancing around, I zeroed in on the matching robe draped across the foot of the bed, and scrambled for it. I’d barely slipped the silk garment up my arms when the effects of a full bladder hit me full force.

  I needed to find a bathroom pronto.

  There were three different sets of white antique doors, each on a different wall. It wasn’t in my nature to barge through unknown doors. That had gotten me locked in the basement for two weeks when I’d done it at Glenda’s. But I also wasn’t going to defecate on myself.

  Charging across the room as fast as I could on legs that felt like Jell-O, I passed a stone fireplace, a seating area, and what I assumed was a closet.

  I sighed in relief when I found exactly what I was looking for. It wasn’t until I plopped down on the toilet to handle my business that I noticed how lavish my surroundings were. Everything was modernized, sleek, large, and clean.

  Very clean.

  After flushing the toilet, I walked to the sink to wash my hands. With my bladder no longer distracting me, it started to set in that I had been taken. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gripped the edge of the round basin and started to count in my head.

  So far, I’d been changed and put in a bed nicer than my own, and it didn’t feel like anyone had touched me aside from the sore spot on my arm. Things could be worse, right? Technically, I was supposed to be dead.

  Opening my eyes, I saw Mason in the doorway reflected back at me. Staring straight into the mirror, his eyes locked with mine.

  He was no longer in a full suit. Just slacks, a white button-down shirt, and maroon tie. We stood like that for only seconds, but it felt like eons. It was he who broke the silence.

  “You’ve been sleeping for almost forty-eight hours. I think I gave you a little too much sedative,” he mused.

  That explained why there was a piece of cotton on my arm. What else has he done to you without your knowledge?

  I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping the sink until my fingers began to tingle. Aside from my arm being a little tender, I felt fine. I was okay with being blissfully ignorant about anything else for the time being.

  “Dinner’s ready. I’m sure you’re hungry,” he added after another minute. Huh? He took me so we could eat dinner? Shaking my head, I bit my lower lip, continuing to watch him. What if this wasn’t real?

  What if my mother slipped me more pills? Or maybe she won and had finally succeeded in creating the girl she always said I was. Wait. Did he say forty-eight hours?

  Someone kidnapped you. You should be thanking him for paying you any attention. You should be focusing on doing whatever you need to do to make sure he keeps you, and never sends you back to the she-devil.

  “Stop,” I mumbled, staring into the sink, rubbing my temple in an attempt to quiet my head.

  In the midst of my rambling, Mason pushed away from the door and came up behind me. For a man of his height and build, he shouldn’t have been able to move with the stealth of a housecat.

  “I know that head of yours likes to make things hard, and I’m sure you’re confused, but try not to have a meltdown your first night awake. We haven’t even got acquainted yet.” He lifted the tie from around his neck and placed it over my eyes, binding it behind my head. Responding on instinct, I reached up to remove it.

  “If you touch it, I’m going to do your wrists next,” he warned me, his voice still soft and gentle.

  I quickly dropped my hands back down to my sides. Curling and uncurling my fingers into the center of my palms, I anxiously waited for what he planned to do next, stiffening when he ran a hand through my hair.

  Trying to gain control of my frazzled thoughts, I barely heard his murmured, “Beautiful.” He grabbed hold of my left hand, grasping it firmly in his, leading me away from the sink.

  “Where am I?”

  “Exactly where you belong,” he replied casually.

  The smooth marble floor of the bathroom turned into the plush damask carpet of the bedroom. There was a small creak and a little burst of air from a door opening; then, marble was beneath my bare feet again. We paused exactly fourteen steps later.

  “Hold onto me.” He let my hand go, moving it to his bicep. My other hand was placed on a smooth, cool banister.

  “Go slow.” He guided me down the stairs, keeping a hand on my lower back. I could feel the firm muscle under his shirt, holding onto him as he advised. Every time I inhaled, I breathed his scent in. He smelled like the expensive scotch malt my father used to drink, moss, and spiced sandalwood.

  The entire situation was surreal. He wasn’t hurting me; his touch was gentle. What was the point of all this?

  He reclaimed my hand the second we were off the twenty-third stair. I didn’t think we were actually going to be having dinner. When he dropped my hand again, though, it was to guide me into a chair. I had smelled the food before I saw it.

  Once the tie was pulled off, it took a few blinks for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. There was a buffet of food spread out on a long twelve person dinette. With furrowed brows, I took in everything from the fajitas to the chicken confetti. It was all my favorites.

  How does he know what I like to eat?

  “I assume you remember how to feed yourself?” he checked, loading up a plate for himself. I watched him sit down and begin to eat, as if this were an everyday occurrence. It could be, a little voice whispered in the back of my head.

  That was true. I knew absolutely nothing about him except his name. His house showed his wealth, he knew my father, and there was an air of familiarity about him.

  He cleared his throat, wiping his mouth with a sanitary napkin before standing again.

  “Do I know you?” I questioned, managing to find my voice. He didn’t answer right away, continuing to load another plate I assumed was for me.

  “I plan for you to know me very well,” he finally replied, sliding the round dish in front of me.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.” He sat back down and resumed eating, ignoring me. After watching him a few minutes, I picked my fork up and reluctantly started picking at my chicken. I could feel the hunger pains in my stomach, but my appetite was obsolete.

  The atmosphere was a different quiet than I was used to. It was comforting, almost.

  I’d seen more than a few documentaries and reenactments about kidnapping. Not a single one went like this. None of the perpetrators looked like him. None of the victims got to sit down and indulge in a deluxe full course meal. Those girls had all fought back, begged to be released, or let fear win.

  I watched Mason eat through lowered lashes, trying to conjure up any one of those emotions, but they wouldn’t come. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. There was no fear or despa
ir; it was just me and a handsome stranger having dinner.

  What I suppose was most mind-boggling, in spite of everything, was that I didn’t mind being there with him. An odd sort of calm had washed over me the second he held my hand.

  He had my interest piqued. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. As long as he wasn’t hurting me, what was the big deal? Hadn’t I just been about to end it all? I had been alone in my own home for so long that the change of scenery was refreshing. Another human being was speaking to me like I was more than a trash receptacle.

  But I didn’t understand why he took me the way he did, or why he took me in the first place. Was it about money? No. I doubted that. The large room we were in was just as lavish as the upstairs bed and bath were. The ceiling was high, the windows were tall – thick drapes covering each one – and, just like upstairs, the room was immaculate.

  When I looked back at Mason, I found him watching me with a studious look on his face. What was he thinking?

  Say something, Katie. Can’t you act normal for once?

  I looked down at my plate, growing frustrated with myself. My brain could produce questions, but my mouth wouldn’t speak words.

  “Why do you think you’re here, Katie?” Mason leaned forward, resting his elbows on the glass top table. I didn’t have an answer for him. I was trying to determine that myself. After a few silent moments, I told him as much.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Guess.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin, giving me his full attention. It took a large amount of effort not to look away. He seemed to be looking right through me, seeing everything I wasn’t ready to show. I didn’t like being beneath his microscopic lens. It made me feel claustrophobic. It was invasive.

  Fortunately, the moment was stolen when his cell phone made a chirping sound. His whole demeanor changed the second he glanced at the screen.

  When he looked back up at me, his gaze was ten times more intense, like he was searching for something. He sighed, reaching for his drink and downing it, before pushing his chair back.

  “I hate to cut this short, but there’s something I have to take care of.” He stood up and rounded the table, offering me his hand. I eyed it warily, wondering how far I should push my limits for a man I knew nothing about.

  Do you see any other men lining up to hold your hand?

  “That’s not the same thing,” I snapped out of frustration. Why was I constantly battling with myself? He took me. Wasn’t it normal to be hesitant?

  His hand grabbed mine before I could decide. I let him help me up, keeping my eyes downcast. He had to have heard me chastising myself. It was impossible not to; he’d been standing right beside me. So why wasn’t he saying anything?

  I trailed behind him, waiting for questions that never came. My mother told me people would never want anything to do with me once they found out I had full blown arguments with the voice in my head.

  If he was waiting for an explanation, he wouldn’t be getting one. I didn’t have one to give, and I didn’t want him to take me back home yet. I remained mute, looking around his house as we walked towards a spiraling staircase.

  We went up much quicker than we had come down. I had to move twice as fast to keep up with his long strides. When we reached the door of the room I woke up in, he planted a firm kiss on my cheek, before gently pushing me inside.

  “I’ll make dinner up to you.” He flashed me a stoic smile, reaching for the doorknob.

  “You’re leaving? You’re locking me in?”

  I have questions.

  Coming to a standstill, he gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. He muttered something under his breath and stepped into the room, using his back to push the door shut.

  If I had been a little more prepared, things might have gone differently. I would have known the night was about to go from calm to life altering for the second time in a row by a man I was foolishly unafraid of.

  Chapter Eleven

  He didn’t give me any warning before making his next move. One second I was standing in front of him, the next he was scooping me up like I was a baby doll.

  He carried me across the room and deposited me onto the four poster bed. Bracing himself with one arm, he leaned over me and gently gripped my jaw.

  “You might not remember me, but I remember you. You’re mine, Katie. You’ve been mine for a very long time.” He dragged the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, repeating the motion on the upper one.

  I lay beneath him, immobilized. My heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it were going to burst from my chest. He sounded so sincere.

  “What are you–?”

  He shushed me, leaning down and pressing his lips on mine. They were smooth – soft. Just like I imagined they would be. His breath smelled like the alcohol he had just consumed.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. Pressing my head back into the mattress only made him increase his mouth’s pressure. When I attempted to push against his chest, he grabbed hold of my wrists, hard enough to bruise.

  He caught my whimper with his mouth, slipping his tongue between my parted lips. Whipping my head back and forth, I tried to break away. His amused laughter caused the first onslaught of tears to gather in my eyes.

  “I’ve pictured this scene inside my head a million different times.” He rubbed his nose across mine, adjusting so that my wrists were pinned above my head.

  “Please let me go,” I breathed out, sounding much calmer than I felt. He looked down at me, clucking his tongue and shaking his head.

  “I can’t let you go, Katie-Kat. Not when I’ve waited so long to take you.” His green hues tracked my tears as they began to roll down my face.

  “I love hearing you beg, but you’re prettier when you cry,” he sighed, trailing his tongue from my jaw to where the tears fell, licking them from my left cheek and then the right. It was unexplainable how I found comfort in what he was doing.

  “Whatever life you knew, it’s gone. There’s nothing outside these walls you need to believe in anymore.” As he spoke, he slowly ran his hand up my leg.

  When I felt something hard against my apex, my stomach knotted into a painful ball of apprehension.

  “Mason,” I pleaded again, desperately trying to pull my wrists free.

  “You can make this hurt a little, or hurt a lot. Either way, your legs will be spread.” His tone was matter-of-fact. Certain and cocky. My initial observation of him was proving to be spot on.

  “Why are you doing this?” I half hiccupped the first part in the midst of a silent sob, pulling myself together enough to get out the rest. I didn’t want to cry in front of him; it made me feel like I was giving him some power.

  Maybe you are. Maybe you should. Why are you fighting something that could be good?

  Shaking my head, I searched his face, trying to understand his motive. A man that looked like him didn’t need to do this.

  He slid his hand between my legs and pulled my underwear to the side, running his fingers over my curls before easing two inside me.

  There was a feeling of discomfort, but it wasn’t overly painful. I could feel everything he was doing. Every push in and pull out.

  He placed kisses on my cheeks, nipping my lower ear lobe and keeping my wrists pinned down. My breathing was getting heavier; I started having to remind myself to exhale. I tried to understand the sensations and emotions hitting me all at once. I knew basic things about sex. I knew his fingers were being coated with my juices, based purely on my body’s reaction.

  Are you sure about that?

  Was I?

  It was the first time any man had ever touched me, but that didn’t stop my body from wanting his hand to stay where it was. My pitiful inexperience didn’t stop the pleasure from working against me, soothing me into accepting what he was doing.

  When he started teasing my bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb, I bit down on my tongue, holding back a moan, continuing to struggle against the hold he
had me in.

  “If you let go, you’ll remember how enjoyable this is.” He added more friction, biting down where my neck and shoulder blade met. I cried out in pain that was quickly trumped by pleasure as he continued his assault with his skilled fingers.

  When I was breathless and worn out from fighting to break away, he stopped, confusing me because I suddenly didn’t want him to. Letting go of my aching wrists, he sat up and stared down at me.

  He used his body to hold mine prisoner, trapping me on the bed as he removed his clothing.

  I’d known from briefly holding his arm that he was a fit man, but now I could see every solid line and ridge of his abs. His sun-kissed skin contrasted perfectly with mine.

  When he took his belt off, time seemed to slow.

  I knew what was coming, and how helpless I was to stop it - if I even wanted to. What if my inner voice was right?

  This could be my only chance to experience any of these things. I just wished he would give me a minute to think. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to imagine I was back at Glenda’s, but it was impossible to depersonalize myself from the situation. The belt buckle made contact with the floor; my underwear was pulled off and tossed across the room.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed in my ear, gripping my thighs and settling between my legs. I couldn’t force myself to relax. I got a brief look at what was between his legs, and the little control that what was left of my nerves melted away.

  You had to know this would happen.

  “That’s not true,” I choked on air, blinking my eyes in an attempt to clear the fresh tears.

  Mason moved his mouth to my neck, pressing his hard cock against my cunt.

  “Let me hurt you. I just want to make you better.” His tone of voice was the same as always. Gentle, maybe a bit husky. It was at complete odds with his actions. He pushed inside me with one thrust, pulling out just to repeat the motion. Sucking in a shocked breath, I grabbed his forearms, digging my nails into his skin so hard, one broke.