Saving Aurora

Chapter 4

Aurora

How did you end up here? He asks slowly and precisely. The man tightens his grip on my hair as his fingers flex and the frown lines on his forehead deepen. My hair starts to pull painfully, and I gasp. I choose to respond honestly, “I-I was kidnapped three weeks ago in Paris,” since I’m unsure how to respond to the circumstance or the man. “My family would pay a lot of money to know where I am,” I stammer out in a panic. “Do I appear to be in need of money?” His tone is conversational, even informal, and humorous, and my hair’s fingers lessen the grip on my scalp. “Why did you go there?”

“I was in London studying abroad. I went mainly because I wanted to view the Eiffel Tower’s glass floor,” I babble, my breath seizing and my pulse rate rising as the terrible memories return. Being pulled into the nightclub’s rear alley. Flailing. Kicking. Pain. Then darkness. Waking up by myself. Captured. One of my new friends from London, Janice, persuaded me that we should spend a portion of our Easter vacation in Paris.

The plan was that

Our days would be filled with sightseeing and gorging on pastries and cheese,

While our nights would be a combination of dancing and booze; the perfect way to break through the stress of the semester.

The man asks out loud, “Did you get to see it?” and puts his hand lightly on the nape of my neck before letting go of my hair. For some strange reason, the deep, slow tone of his voice soothes me. “No,” I reply softly. He takes a few steps back, and I quickly cross my arms in front of my chest to put more distance between us. I hug, protecting myself, but in vain, as he takes off his suit jacket and throws it on the end of the bed. ”Someday you should. It’s spectacular.” I stare at the man as he reaches up and starts to tug on the tie around his neck, loosening it.”What is the number of your lovers?” The tie breaks free with one last harsh tug. I take a timid step back as the man approaches me and shoves the tie into his jeans pocket, startled by the question. “What?” I look down and inquire in a quiet voice. How do I respond to that query? Or, more crucially, what response is he seeking? “Look at me,” the man yells. I look up at his hard face and jump, my heart pounding wildly. “How many men, voluntarily or not, have f****d you?” I force the knot in my throat to go down.It requires all of your self-control not to turn away. His dark, golden eyes are blazing at me, and his brows are wrinkled. I wish to search elsewhere. I wish to remain hidden. I manage to squeeze out, “None.” “The truth,” he shouts irritably as he steps quickly in my direction. I automatically fall back till my knees strike the bed. I’m confined. The man leans over me and brutally pulls my neck back while grabbing my hair once more. His icy murmur, “I want the truth,” is more terrifying than any yelling lunatic. I stammer, almost able to contain my tears, “I’m-I’m telling you the truth.”

“We shall see,” he says softly, loosening is hold on me and taking several steps backwards.

“Strip.”

“What?”

The man gives me a silent “I’m waiting” look while raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms over his chest. I hastily unzip the incredibly short black pleather miniskirt, my hands shaking. I push it down and let it drop to the ground, but the plastic clings to my skin in spite of the air conditioner. Then, with a sigh of relief, I unhooked the corset with the black and white trimmings and let it fall to the ground. With a hint of a contented smile on his lips, the man’s keen gaze pierces my own as I look up. This is fun for him. I ought to be repulsed. Revolted. I’m scared. Rather, the thought of being able to make this tough man smile gives me confidence and significantly reduces my fear.I unhooked my bra by reaching behind my back, allowing it to fall off my arms and land on the floor pile. As I start to pull off the red G-string, my last barrier, the man orders me to stop. “Come here. I’ll unwrap the rest of my present.” Realization suddenly hits me and my stomach clenches. I’ve been given to this man. To enjoy. “Come,” he repeats, crooking his finger at me. I cross my arms over my naked chest and, with unsteady steps, move closer to stand in front of the man. His warm hands run lightly along the skin of my upper arms before reaching down and uncrossing my forearms. I expect his touch to be harsh and painful, so I’m taken aback when he tenderly takes my breasts in his hands and uses his thumbs to tickle my n*****s. I wouldn’t have expected a rich playboy to have rough, callused hands like his. I gasp in surprise as I feel a rush of pleasure. “Gorgous.” I find myself leaning into the ecstasy as he hardens my n*****s with twists and pinches. He quickly slides his hands down my body until they are securely resting on my hips. The man holds the G-string’s thin band with one hand and pulls, causing it to crack. The tiny triangle that covers me flips down as he tears the other side, exposing my recent, very painful waxed and nude s*x. The ladies in the house had delighted in witnessing me endure the agony of having the roots of my pubic hair torn out. While they held my ankles down for the elderly boss, they jabbered away, laughing and making fun of my weeping. The man walks around me, lifting his hand off my hip, and I feel more nude than I ever imagined.He orders me to spread my legs, and I jump when he puts his big hand between them and touches my sensitive skin. I want to find out if you lie. I foolishly yell at him, “I’m not,” which causes my p***y’s exposed flesh to sting. Why couldn’t he just like any other person spank me on the ass? I slowly spread my legs and widen my stance, my pulse pounding at my newfound vulnerability. I wasn’t before, but for some reason, this feels worse. I’m not wearing anything. By themselves. And letting this man into my life. He moves one hand to firmly grasp my ass in his palm, keeping me steady. He lifts two fingers with the other and presses them to my lips. Without saying anything, I open my mouth, and he shoves them in. His golden eyes sparkle with passion as he growls, “Suck.” I follow instructions, pretending not to think about or wonder what it would be like to suck another part of his body while attempting to ignore how delicious his salty, macho skin tastes. “Enough.” From my mouth, the man removes his fingers. When I nip at the ends of his fingers in retaliation, his eyes widen with disbelief, and I catch another glimpse of a seductive smile. He moves his hand down to my p***y and spreads my lips, using his saliva

Soaked fingers to probe my entrance.

“You’re fuckin’ tight,” he groans, slowly forcing not just one but two thick

Fingers into me.

Please,” I gasp, grabbing onto his forearms, the strong thick muscles briefly

Distracting me from the burn of being stretched and invaded.

“Relax,” he snaps, squeezing my bottom roughly.

“Sir. Please,” I groan as his fingers continue their inspection.

“You weren’t lying,” the man says casually as his thumb pushes its way

Between my outer lips. My body jerks when it hits my c**t. He begins caressing it

Gently with his calloused digit. My traitorous body responds, relaxing under his

Spell. The man’s fingers are still inside of me, and I can feel myself aching in

Places I didn’t know existed.

“How come no one’s ever f****d your gorgeous body before?” he asks

Conversationally. I look up into his face, which no longer seems cold. With every

Gentle stroke against my c**t, my body is betraying me.

“I never met any man I wanted touching me,” I admit breathlessly.

“Do you like me touching you?” he whispers lazily into my ear as he nuzzles

My neck.

Before I can answer, he slowly slides his fingers partially out of my s*x,

Before sliding them back in, all the while continuing to tease my c**t.

“No,” I lie as my s*x floods with pleasure, wetting the man’s fingers with my

Cream.

“Liar,” he replies amused, continuing his ministration. “Well, I certainly

Enjoy touching you.”

I attempt to swallow a moan as his fingers begin to increase their rhythmic

Movement and tighten my hold on him as pleasure overtakes my body.

“Sir.” I cry out, not being able to stop myself as my hips buck greedily

Against his hand.

The hand fondling my ass moves up my back and into my hair, fisting it and

Directing my mouth to his. He nips my lower lip, and when I open, he takes over.

His tongue probes my mouth in the same manner his fingers are possessing my

Sex.

My heart is pounding, and I’m breathless as he ends the kiss. The man takes

His fingers, wet with my juices, and places them on my lips. His eyes spark with

Salty-tang for the first time.

I melt further. f**k!

The man pulls his hand away from my mouth, but not before I’m able to take

Another nibble, and his eyes flash amusement.

“You’ll be begging me to f**k you before the night is out,” he tells me

Confidently. The man moves his hand out of my hair and down my back to caress

My ass lightly while the fingers I had just sucked grasp my breast.

“No.” I shake my head in denial and attempt to step back—away from

Danger. “Never.”

“I can be very persistent.” His soft lips descend on mine, barely touching as

He teases me with phantom-like kisses. Uncontrollably I lean forward, wanting

To feel the full pressure of his mouth on mine, but he pulls away, his eyes alive

With desire. “I can also be very patient.”

I back away, confused and anxious with unwanted desire.

My thoughts and feelings war against each other. I can’t possibly like this

Man; I should be afraid of him. But his touch sends a calming warmth through

Me, and all I want to do is get lost in his arms, his touch, scent, and taste. But he

Is my captor—my enemy.

A small voice in my head argues, But he didn’t kidnap you. He is not the

Reason you are here. And he cannot be too bad; he hasn’t struck you or forced

Himself on you. He’s only touched you, which you can’t deny you enjoyed.

“When was the last time you ate?” The man breaks me out of my thoughts,

And I look over to see him pulling his shirttails from his pants.

“What?” I ask, stepping further away. My gaze locks on his large fingers—

The ones that had just been inside of me—as he begins fumbling with the tiny

Buttons.

“When did you eat?” He shrugs out of the shirt, leaving him in a tight-fitting

White t-shirt. Stepping forward, he cups my cheek gently, sending a spark of

Warmth through me. His thumb touches my lip which I didn’t realize I’m biting,

And he comments casually, “You must be hungry.”

“I stole some crab cakes.”

“Good choice.” He removes his hand from my face and holds out his shirt.

Passion as I obediently open my mouth and suck them clean, tasting my own

Put this on. You’re a beautiful distraction, Princess.”

“Thank you.” I take the well-starched garment, quickly putting it on and

Doing up as many buttons as possible. The sleeves dangle past my wrists and

Luckily the shirt is long enough to cover my ass.

With the shirt covering me, I begin feeling more comfortable. More myself.

Safer.

“What would you like to eat?” he asks, moving over toward the bedside table

Where a house phone sits. “I’ll call down for something.”

Food. Real American food. Sounds like heaven.

“I’d kill for a burger and fries,” I tell him, moving to sit on one of the chairs

At the small round table in the corner. “Or a meat lovers pizza.”

Eyebrows shoot up on the man’s face as a smile appears. “Meat lovers?”

The innuendo isn’t lost on me, and I stammer quickly, “A hamburger.”

Picking up the phone, he speaks perfect Mandarin into it—I don’t understand

A word.

Why did I take f*****g French?