Page 42 of Colton
Colton opens the trunk, dropping the bags in with a thud. “It’ll be okay,” he assures me as he climbs in beside me. He reaches out to squeeze my hand.
The touch of his hand sends a jolt through me, a confusing mix of desire and fear. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Finally, Colton pulls off onto a barely visible dirt track. The car bounces and jolts as we make our way down a steep incline. And then I see it—a concrete structure nestled into the side of the cliff, almost invisible against the rocky backdrop.
“A bunker?” I breathe, a mixture of relief and unease washing over me.
“Home sweet home,” Colton remarks, his voice tinged with bitter humor.
As I step out of the car, the salty tang of sea air fills my lungs. In the distance, I can hear the crash of waves against rocks. For a moment, a sense of relief washes over me. We’ve escaped. We’re safe.
But as I follow Colton into the dark mouth of the bunker, that relief turns into unease. The heavy metal door clangs shut behind us, the sound echoing ominously in the confined space.
I’m safe from Xavier Blackwood, yes. But as I watch Colton move around the bunker, his movements tense, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
And as the reality of my situation sinks in, I realize that my carefully laid plans are unraveling faster than I can adapt. I’m trapped in a bunker with a dangerous, unstable man, cut off from the world.
The game has changed, and I’m no longer sure of the rules.
Colton watches me. “My father doesn’t know about this place,” he says, his voice tight. “We’ll be safe here.”
I struggle to swallow, my fear strangling me.
“Okay.”
Chapter 20
Colton
The bunker is a fortress of solitude, a place where I can keep her safe, keep her mine. I lead Mary through the corridors, my hand gripping hers tightly, as if she might disappear if I let go. Her fingers are cold, but her palm is sweaty, a telling sign of her nervousness. It sends a thrill through me, knowing that I have this effect on her.
Every room we pass, every corner we turn, I can feel my obsession growing. She’s here, in my space, surrounded by my things. She’s a part of my world now, and I’ll do anything to keep her here.
I show her the bedroom which is soft, warm, and inviting. The bed is large, dominating the room, a silent promise of what’s to come. I can see her tense, her eyes darting around, taking it all in. She’s trying to hide her unease, but I can see right through her. It’s intoxicating, this power I have over her.
I step back into the corridor, closing the door behind me with a firm push. The lock clicks into place, a sound that reverberates through the bunker and sends a thrill coursing through my veins.
The air in the bunker seems to shift, becoming denser, heavier with the weight of my actions. I can almost taste the power in the atmosphere, a bitter tang that lingers on my tongue. The scent of the room clings to my nostrils—a mix of musty air and the faint remnants of old perfume—and it intensifies, grounding me in the reality of what I’ve done.
My excitement builds, a growing heat that spreads from my core outward, making my skin feel alive and electric. Every nerve ending is on fire, responding to the thrill of having her locked away, completely at my mercy. The thought of her, trapped and helpless, sends a wave of satisfaction through me. It’s a feeling I can’t resist, a high that I crave.
I take a deep breath, savoring the moment before turning away from the door. The sound of my footsteps echoes down the hallway, each step a reminder of the control I now possess. The anticipation of what’s to come courses through me, a heady mix of excitement and dominance.
“Colton!” she shouts from inside the room, panic edging her voice.
I smile, a predatory grin that I know would unnerve her even more if she could see it. “It’s for your own good,” I call out, my voice a low rumble. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost.”
I leave her to explore the room while I head to the kitchen. The bags from the store are still on the counter, waiting to be unpacked. I methodically lay out the contents—food, drinks, and the clothes I bought for her. I imagined her in each piece, her body hugged by the fabric, her curves on display for me and me alone. It’s basic shit, but I know she can make anything look good.
The cupboard to my right holds a secret stash of Rohypnol tucked away behind the cans of food. I smile to myself, imagining the possibilities. With her unconscious, I can do whatever I want, explore every inch of her body withoutresistance. The thought sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
I hum to myself as I put away the groceries, my mind filled with images of Mary, vulnerable and helpless, completely at my mercy. The power I have over her is intoxicating.
While keeping her safe, of course.
But first, I need to clean up. I strip off my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the bathroom floor as I step into the shower. The hot water cascades over my body, washing away the grime and sweat of the day. But it does nothing to wash away the darkness inside me, the twisted desire that burns like a wildfire.
I close my eyes, my hand wrapping around my cock as I stroke myself, slowly at first, then faster, harder. I imagine her here with me, her body slick with soap, her hands exploring every inch of me. I imagine her on her knees, her lips wrapped around me, her eyes looking up at me with a mix of fear and desire. The fantasy is so vivid that I can almost feel her here, the warmth of her breath, the softness of her touch. It’s intoxicating, and I lose myself in the moment, my body tensing as I reach my climax. I let out a low groan, the sound echoing in the small, tiled room. The release is powerful, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough; I need more.
