Exploited (The Dark Redemption Series) (11 page)

Blair

“What’s his problem?” Sara, the woman doing my tattoo asks, and I shake my head in response after Brede storms off without a word. I’m not sure what’s with his reaction. Of course, I haven’t told him who Valerie and Ben are yet, but I was going to, or at least I was gonna write down a partial explanation.

When the tattoo gun starts up again, I grit my teeth in anticipation of the sting. The pain reverberates through my rib cage, and it hurts so damn bad. But as soon as she pulls the needle away, the pain also fades to only a slight burn. Closing my eyes, I drift off, shutting my mind down to stop thinking about the constant stabbing sensation until it’s finally over.

“Finished, and it looks awesome,” Sara says to me, and my entire body relaxes when she sprays something cool onto the burning flesh. “Keep the bandage on for two or three hours, then use your fingers to wash the area with soap and pat it dry. I’ll give you some ointment to rub on it a few times a day until it heals.”

I nod my agreement and sit up from the chair, somewhat dizzy when I look around the parlor for Brede, who never came back. Ready to go and starving, I sit in the lobby and wait at least half an hour for him, but he’s still nowhere to be found. Thankfully Sara offers to drive me home when she leaves for the night. I write down my address and hand it to her for her to put in her GPS so I can zone out on the short ride.

After the crazy day with Brede and the three hours of pain, I’m exhausted. I just want to curl up in bed and sleep for a few days. But I really don’t want to be alone.

Somehow I manage to stay awake for two hours, snacking on whatever I can find in the kitchen, and watching
Sex in the City
in the living room until it’s time to take off my bandage and wash my tattoo
.
The old sitcom was somewhat educational about men and sex, but mostly it made me miss Brede. I wish he were here so I could curl up in the comfort of his strong arms, but he’s not that type of guy.

My house seems even lonelier tonight than all the others since I’ve been back. I’m angry at Brede for keeping me company all day, doing things to me that make my body feel wonderful and alive, and then abandoning me tonight at the tattoo parlor. 

That’s why, a few hours later, I welcome my midnight visitor when I awake to the squeak of my window being raised. Even though I’m so sleepy I can barely hold my eyes open, I’m relieved to no longer be alone.

Rolling over to face him, he’s dressed in the same head to toe black, with the ski mask over his face as far as I can tell in the darkness.

“Hey, baby girl,” he says, his voice deep and growling. In his hands, I see a flash of color before he’s on me. His knees straddle my hips, but he keeps his weight off of me while he lifts the bottom of his mask. “I missed you today,” he tells me before he leans down, pressing his lips to mine a few times softly until I impatiently swipe my tongue over his, silently begging for more. His chuckle is muffled as our tongues dance around each other, sending tingles down to my toes but mostly gathering in my lower belly. When he breaks our kiss, I nearly whine in disappointment, but he only pauses long enough to reach over and turn on the bedside lamp. Now illuminated, his dark mask isn’t nearly as scary.

“You’ve got to leave,” he says suddenly. Taking off one glove at a time, he runs his bare fingers down my jaw to my neck and shoulder before he starts teasing my nipple through my top with small circles. Goosebumps rise along my arms, yet I remain still. It’s not the kind of touch from an evil, cruel man who carelessly breaks into houses. It’s gentle and kind, comforting.

“The police are gonna show up here looking for you soon,” he warns.

That all-consuming fear has me gasping in worry that I’ll have to go back. After tasting freedom, I don’t think I can. This man, this stranger, somehow knows all my secrets about what I’ve done and what I’m now running from.

“Don’t worry,” he tells me, leaning down to brush his lips gently over mine again. “I’ve got a plan; and if you agree to help me, I’ll make sure they don’t take you back there.”

He’s gonna help me? But he doesn’t even know me.

“Now, don’t agree right away,” he says with a smile. “I want to take my time…convincing you tonight and maybe tomorrow night....”

I hold completely still, waiting to see what he’s gonna do. I’m excited. Nervous. But definitely not scared.

“God, you have beautiful tits, Blair,” he says brusquely, looking down at my hard nipples poking through my thin top, and running a finger down between the two slopes. “You gonna show them to me?” he asks.

I nod my agreement, but then he says, “Yes or no? Use words, baby girl. I don’t want any misunderstandings here.”

Words. He wants words. And I want him to look at me and touch me, so much so that it hurts to go without.

“Y-yes.” I force the word past my lips.

“Good girl,” he says. When he grabs the hem of my top and tugs it up, I don’t resist. Instead, I lift my arms for him to remove it. “Mmm-mm,” he mutters once it’s out of the way, and then he slides back and lowers the weight of his warm, heavy body down to my stomach. The press of his erection against my thigh has me burning even hotter in need. One palm is next to my head to hold himself up, and the other is wrapped around my uninked ribs, his thumb rubbing just inches away from the bottom of my breast.

“Do you want me to touch them, to lick and suck on them as much I want to?” he asks, his damp lips and cotton mask brushing against my ear.

“Yes,” I say, the word coming out easier this time. I reach for the bottom of the mask, wanting to push it up and off to see his face, but his hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist and pinning it above my head.

“Nuh-uh,” he replies with a chuckle, one that’s definitely familiar even though I’ve only heard it a few times before.

“Brede?” I ask.

He goes still, and his hand clamps down harder around my wrist that’s pressed into the mattress above my head.

“No,” he answers in almost a growl when he sits back on his knees. He reaches up and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted upper body in the dark room, I assume to show me that he doesn’t have a single tattoo. Still, his chest and abs are beautiful. “And, Blair, you need to stay the fuck away from him.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice sounding weak. I’m unable to help the disappointment I instantly feel, knowing that this is not Brede and that he doesn’t think I should be around him. I wanted him to be Brede, as strange as that is. But there’s something about this man’s voice, that I know despite the mask, that he’s actually concerned about me.

“Brede is dangerous. He’ll use you, Blair. Take what he wants…and then hurt you.”

He’s not saying anything I hadn’t already figured out myself.

“I fucking knew it,” he grumbles, his eyes I can’t quite make out narrowing as he looks over the ink still stinging my ribs. “Roll over,” he orders, with a hand on my back because he wants me on my side so he can read it. His fingertips run alongside the vines, not touching the tattoo itself. “It’s beautiful, and means…more to me than you know,” he says.

I let out the breath I was holding since at first it sounded like he was disappointed that I had done something so permanent to myself. He of all people should know the significance of the words since he knows my secret.

Pushing on my shoulder, he gently rolls me flat on my back again so that I’m looking up at his huge form, hovering over me.

“Forget about him. Forget Brede,” he says, his thumb caressing my bottom lip. “I know how much you’ve already been through. Help me, and I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a tempting offer, even if it is from a stranger in a mask. No one’s taken care of me in ten years. I’m just not sure how he wants me to help him. Before I can ask, he’s distracting me.

Leaning down, his soft lips flutter against my neck. Once, twice, three times, making me squirm underneath him. I reach up to his shoulders, but he pulls away, grabbing both of my wrists in one of his hands. I want to scream in protest and beg him not to stop, but then he stretches above me. And with another tug on my wrists, I realize he’s tying them to the same bedpost like the first night. Last night he wouldn’t let me touch him either when I tried. 

“If I let you touch me…” he starts to explain when his partially covered face returns above me. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And this is all for you. To convince you. Let me make you feel good, okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I agree, tugging on the soft material to test the hold. They’re much looser than the first night, so much so that it wouldn’t take much to pull free if I wanted to. I don’t think I do, though. While being restrained is scary and reminds me of the place I don’t want to ever go back to, when he does it, however, it’s actually…hot, so much so that my panties are already wet.

His mouth moves to the other side of my neck to continue his sensual torture. It’s nice, but I want more. My entire body is shaking with need. The way he makes me feel is similar to when I was with Brede earlier, but it’s also so…different. In a good way. Instead of being rough and harsh, his touch is gentle and almost reverent, despite the scarf tying my wrists to the bedpost.

“The things I could do to you, Blair,” he says with his lips against my skin. His erection grinds into my lower body, and my legs spread like it’s an automatic bodily function, trying to get him closer to the area where the longing seems to be radiating from.

“If you let me, I’ll worship every inch of your beautiful body.” He drags his lips down my chest, right between my breasts. The cool air has beaded both nipples almost painfully. They’re so sensitive that when his tongue flicks over one and then the other, I moan at the tingling sensation, arching my back to squirm, either to get closer to his mouth or to get away. I’m not sure which.

“You like that?” he asks, blowing one of the wet nipples, making me shiver as I moan in response. "Tell me to stop and I will,” he tells me.

“No,” I reply quickly, making him chuckle in amusement.

“More?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. He’s just making me say it. “Blair?” he prompts, holding still above me until I respond.

“Yes,” I answer.

“Okay, I’ll give you more. But I need to know something important. Deal? You answer my questions, and I’ll keep my mouth on you.”

“Okay,” I agree, words coming easier the more I use them with him.

“Did you lie?” he asks without elaborating. He doesn’t need to because I know exactly what he’s asking.

Gnawing on my bottom lip while he watches me carefully with those narrowed eyes behind a mask, I consider my options. The first night, he called me a liar. He already assumed the truth, so why not be completely honest with him? He knows the worst of me, yet for some reason, he’s here.

“Blair?” he prompts.

“Yes,” I reply. “He…he made me,” I explain. Sure, that excuse might fly as an eight-year-old girl, but after all these years I never came forward and admitted the truth. Not to a soul, even though I doubt anyone would have believed a silly, raving lunatic.

“That’s what I thought,” he says on a heavy exhale that breezes through my hair. Then his lips are on my cheek, kissing me softly, sweetly. He’s not angry like I expected him to be. “Did you see who did it?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply, my voice shaking with the memories of her crying while he stabbed her over and over again. The way the blood splattered. The last gurgling sounds she made before she went silent. And even as young as I was, I knew she was gone then.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, baby girl,” he says. Cradling my face in his hands, he kisses my lips again, and it’s the perfect distraction to make all the blood and gore go away. “He’s an evil fucking bastard; and if you help me, we can nail his ass for this.”

He knows too.

“Not that easy,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

“I know it’s not in this town, but this is bigger than him and his reach. The feds want him; we just need evidence. A witness would be good, too.”

“F-feds?” I ask in confusion.

“The federal government. I’m an FBI agent, and while these…search and interrogation techniques are not exactly our normal operating procedure or legal, for that matter, I have more of a…personal stake in this case. More than even my superiors know. I’ve been after the DA for a long time.” 

“Why?” I ask curiously, unable to hold back the question.

“That…is a story for another time. Right now, I’ve got some convincing that I would rather be doing.”

“I-I don’t even know your name,” I say when his warm, wet tongue swipes across my breast.

“Aden.”

“Aden?” I ask. At least, I think that’s what he said. His voice was muffled since his mouth was full of my nipple
.

“Mmm-hmm,” he replies without his mouth pausing in suction. “Why do you have to taste so good?” he asks, but I don’t answer that one.
“I can’t stay the fuck away from you, and I don’t want to, even though it’s wrong.” Now his mouth has moved down, his tongue prodding and flicking the sensitive area around my belly button. I understand his intention right away, and instead of being self-conscious like this morning, I know how good it feels now. In fact, if my hands weren’t restrained I’d even be tempted to push his head down between my legs like the dirty little slut I’m becoming. I blame my scandalousness on being locked away and not being touched for ten years.