Chapter Five - Let me go... please?
1044 Words
The same masked guy walks in, he doesn't react any particular way to the scene. The naked woman. The smoke. The music. The tall stranger zips up his pants. The masked guy bows low in front of him, ignoring the naked woman who gets up and goes to turn off the music.
I hear my name mentioned by the masked guy and I perk up. They speak in Japanese for a few minutes. The tone of the conversation is deferential. With the masked guy keeping his head bowed and his tone respectful and quiet. Who is this tall stranger with the sea coloured eyes and chiselled face? What kind of power does he wield?
Then the masked guy leaves. Followed by the naked woman. They don't spare me a glance. The silence is worse now. After what I had witnessed and the odd connection I felt with it. The wetness in my underwear is a startling reminder of what I had felt. As bizarre as it was, I felt aroused watching the two of them. The sounds the tall stranger made. The eye contact he maintained with me. What did it mean? Did he even mean anything by it?
Was he just asserting dominance in his own sick twisted way?
"Lilly Daniels." He says my name in a rough amused tone. The proof of what he just enjoyed a moment ago bright in that lazy satiated tone that makes me weak in the knees.
I don't know his name and even if I did, I doubt he would take likely to being called by his name as informally as he just did mine. I clamp my mouth shut and try to ignore the way my neck feels hot with the knowledge of his intense dark gaze on me in the dimly lit room.
"Have your men found out that I am not some spy and you can let me go now?" I steel my voice, finding the strength to look at him directly, I manage to hold his dark fathomless eyes for a total of three seconds and then I have to look away again.
I clench my thighs together. Hating my body for reacting so viscerally to him when I should be running away from him. I just watched him pleasure himself with a woman like she was a s*x toy. I should be disgusted. Absolutely repulsed.
But I am not and I hate myself for it.
I can't deny the arousal any longer. Neither can I hide the blush creeping into my face every time I look in his direction and see his eyes still watching me quietly, intensely.
He gets up and with three long strides, is in front of me, towering like a dark immovable mountain. I look up into his dangerously handsome face and my mouth goes dry.
He leans down suddenly, bringing his face level to mine, his breath caresses my face, smoky and warm, and I can't look away from him, I look into his eyes, picking out the intense dark flecks of onyx adorning his sea coloured stormy eyes.
"They did. And you are not a spy, Lilly Daniels." His thumb reaches out and strokes my chin, once, not gently, and my mouth falls open with an irrepressible gasp that comes out more like a moan.
"That...that is good, right? I can go...?" I stutter. My breath has left me.
He is too close. The top buttons of his charcoal coloured shirt are still open, the smooth hard planes of his chest exposed. I try not to think about anything, definitely not the heat swirling in the pit of my stomach, the growing wetness in my underwear, the racing of my heart. It is hard. Our faces are too close.
"You are not a spy, Lilly Daniels. You are worse." He says, sounding somewhat disappointed and my heart skips a beat.
What does that mean? What does he mean by that?
"W-worse?" I stutter.
"You are an unfortunate tourist who wandered into the wrong dark alley at the wrong moment. You dumb Americans. You visit foreign countries and you go about as if the locals should pause their lives to accommodate your fascinations. And now here you are, unfortunate by all definitions of the word." He lets go of my chin then, leaning up to his towering height, he shakes his head with wicked amusement.
Something flares to life within me. Anger. Hot and cold at the same time. Maybe it was the condescension in his tone. The untamed glee with which he used to condemn me as unfortunate. That word biting and cold in his hard smooth voice. Because there is some truth to it. Damn him.
I get up too, standing up to him. I don't even reach his broad shoulders but I look up into his eyes, for the first time since I met him tonight, I am not terrified of him and what he could do to me. I am not afraid of what his identity might be. How much danger he exudes even in his silence.
"I am not a f*****g tourist." I bite out the words through gritted teeth. That is the truth. I didn't come here to f*****g sightsee.
He tilts his head to the side, his smooth full mouth slightly curved up in what looks like amusement. The look on his face is akin to what a prey might see before they are devoured by an apex predator. A chill runs down my spine, probably the thousandth since I have chanced upon this dark stranger tonight.
"Yes. You are not." He says.
I cut him off before I can process what he just said, "And I am not a dumb American! I am not unfortunate either! I was just unlucky. And I don't deserve to be harmed because of that. I don't know who you are. I am leaving your damned country on the next available flight tonight. Just let me go. I don't care who you are or what your business is. Just..." I pause to take in a deep breath, feeling like a tightly wound up prey who just won't accept its fate.
Staring up into his deep dark fathomless eyes, I plaad, "Let me go...please?"
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