Page 4 of Bound By Mistake
"We’re going to have so much fun.” The first guy says. “It’s gonna hurt so good, sweetheart. You’re gonna love it!”
My head spins. How can they think I want this?
I argue, but like everything else, it’s useless. I might as well be talking to a wall.
These two guys don’t look like your usual thugs. But then, what the hell do I know? I’ve never been in a position like this before. Not even come close. When I imagine the kind of men who get off on scaring and assaulting women, I think of unkempt, desperate, degenerate types. Not the kind of suave, sophisticated men who stand before me.
They’re dressed in jeans and tee-shirts with checkered flannel shirts unbuttoned over the top, but somehow the way they look just feels like they’re dressing for the part. Their clothing can’t disguise their excellent haircuts, perfect orthodontics, or their cultured voices. Both of them are clean shaven with perfect white teeth, and I know a pair of designer jeans when I see them. The boots on their feet are top of the range too. Not to mention that both of them are buff in all the right places and have the type of classic good looks that would have women crawling all over them without them having to resort to kidnapping.
But it’s like they don’t have the tiniest shred of empathy. No matter what I do or say, they behave as if this is all some macabre game. One I’m totally on board with.
Rich, muscular and handsome. What the hell is going on here?
That’s when it dawns on me.
Oh shit!
These are the kind of men who can have whatever they want. I can feel it in the way they talk; the way they hold themselves. The sheer commanding dominance they exude.
They are the kind of men who think they can do anything they like, because they have enough money and power to make any kind of problem go away.
The certainty has bile bubbling up from my stomach. These are the type of men for whom there are never any consequences.
My deepest shame though? He’s right.
"You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you're craving this."
Tears prick behind my eyes, but they aren’t because of the fear, or the restraints, or the predicament I’m in. It’s because underneath it all, a little sliver of me is aroused. I feel my nipples peak and my traitorous body betraying me.
"I don't want this,” I whisper, but it’s no good. The guy looming over me can see the evidence of my arousal.He knows.
The thing is, though. I’m telling the truth. Kind of.
I know my protests sound weak, even to my own ears, but the truth is, I don’twantto want this. Even if I do.
The copper haired guy grabs at my breast and there’s nothing gentle about the way his fingers dig into my soft flesh. I close my eyes and bite back a moan. This can’t be happening. It’s like one of my deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. The kind I get myself off on in the privacy of my mind, locked in my bedroom where no one can discover the warped and twisted imaginings that go on behind my eyelids as I bring myself to climax.
Suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb goes on in my brain and a sense of serenity wraps me in a peaceful blanket.
Of course. I was in a scary situation when that mob was chasing me. I hit my head, and my rather fertile mind has wreathed my dark and dirty visions into a specter of illusion.
None of this is real. As soon as I come back to myself, I’ll find it was all some trick of the mind, brought on by trauma.
Except, just as I’m consoling myself with that scenario, somebody else enters the room.
“Well, if she had a bag, or any other belongings, I can’t find them. Maybe she lost them in the river. I have no idea how sheended up in there. I guess she must have slipped off the bridge. It’s barely more than a couple of planks, after all.”
My eyes fly open, and my vision is encompassed by a third man; also tall and handsome, with a body made for sin. Equally as elegant and commanding as the others.
And just as lethal to my composure.
If this is a dream, I really need to wake up soon…
Real soon!
But I’m no longer certain it is.
Chapter
