TRINITY
It was two hours before I heard footsteps on the stairs. I’d sat silently on the sofa, staring at the wall, trying not to think about what I’d seen.
How was I going to look at this man after all this? Please let me be going home now.
I didn’t turn to see him walk into the room. I stayed where I was, studying my hands that I twisted in my lap. A tray of food was put down on the coffee table in front of me, and my stomach growled at the sight of the pizza. Old habits died hard, and my first thought was to grab a piece of pizza and cram it in my mouth while I had a chance. Thankfully, years of teaching myself control kept me from embarrassing myself further.
Lifting my gaze to meet his, I started to say thank you, but he spoke first.
“Take a bath or shower when you want. Here is a shirt you can sleep in. There are extra toothbrushes under the sink,” he said, then turned and headed to leave me.
I stood up quickly. “Wait. You’re leaving me down here? All night?”
He stopped and turned back around to look at me. “Yes.”
“Why? You checked me for a tracker. Can’t I go home now?” Please let me go home.
I couldn’t stay down here. No matter how nice it was, I was exhausted from battling my inner demons to keep myself alert.
He shook his head. “No,” he replied, then turned and went back to the stairs.
I opened my mouth to plead with him, but he was gone. I stood there, feeling hopeless. When the door upstairs closed, I sank back down and looked at the pizza. Grabbing a slice, I began to eat it like the starved kid I had once been. He wasn’t going to make me go without food. Perhaps he was just waiting on the background check to come back. How long did those take?
Swallowing the slice, I grabbed another, but didn’t eat it as quickly. My stomach would rebel if I ate too much. I picked up the bottle of water he’d brought and took a long drink.
This was going to be fine. I’d faced worse. I could survive this.
Finishing the pizza, I drank down the rest of the bottle of water, then stood up to go get a shower. I felt dirty and wanted to wash this day from my body. The threat of anxiety tried to creep in, and I fought it. This would not get to me. I could live through this. They would see I was harmless soon and let me go.
The warm water washed over me, and I imagined it was cleaning me of all I’d been through. I soaped my body twice and washed my hair three times before finally stepping out of the shower and drying off. The T-shirt that Huck had left for me was huge. It had to be his. I took the fabric and held it to my nose to inhale. It smelled like him. I slipped it on over my head, and it hung off one shoulder and hit me just above my knees.
Sighing at myself in the mirror, I turned out the lights to the bathroom and went to the king-size bed. Taking a pillow from it and the blanket folded up on the end, I went to the sofa and lay down. I didn’t know if Huck intended to sleep in that bed or not tonight, but I wasn’t going to be in it if he did return.
Opening my eyes, I blinked, confused as I looked around the room. Where was I? Sitting up, I realized I was on a sofa, and with that, it all came back to me. I was in a basement, being held prisoner by my dead fiancé’s criminal older brother. I stretched out my legs and dropped my head back on the sofa. Would today be the day I could go home? Unsure of the time, I walked over to a lamp and turned it on, then looked at my watch. It was seven thirty-three.
I glanced back at Huck’s bed, and it looked exactly how it had last night. He hadn’t slept down here. Hopefully, he’d return soon, and I could go.
I looked around for the television remote and found it on the table beside the recliner. Picking it up, I managed to figure out how to turn it on and change the channels. It was complicated, so I stayed with the basics. I stood there, flipping through the channels until I found the local news. Once I had some other voices to fill the silence, I put the remote down and went to use the bathroom and get myself ready to go home.
Twenty minutes later, when I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes locked on Huck, and I stopped. He stood, scowling at the sofa as if it offended him. I waited until he noticed me, afraid to say anything. I still didn’t know what to think of this man. Should I be afraid of him, feel safe with him, stop noticing how attractive he was?
His gaze lifted to find me standing across the room, watching him.
“You slept on the sofa.” He sounded angry.
I nodded, unsure if that was an insult of sorts.
“Why?”
I tucked some hair behind my ear. “I, uh, well, that’s your bed. I didn’t think you’d want a stranger in it.”
His scowl deepened.
“Sit down,” he demanded.
I wondered if anyone had ever told this man no. The way he ordered me around made me want to stand my ground, but then there was the other part of me that knew better than to push the person in charge. I walked over to the sofa and sat down, telling myself that I’d get to leave soon and I’d never have to lay eyes on him again. Which was a good thing because the dirty, twisted part of me, which I had worked so hard to hide from the world, was attracted to this brutal killer. No amount of ipecac would get that demon out of me. But then it had never worked when Tabitha shoved it down my throat. Whatever demons she thought were inside of me hadn’t left. My boobs had only gotten bigger. If she had known about my sexual thoughts and the books I read, she’d never have let me sleep under her roof while I dated Hayes.
Huck didn’t sit down, but remained towering over me while he looked down at me. “For six months, you had to put on a fucking good act for my brother.”
The disgust was clear in his tone and expression. I was used to disgust. I’d grown up with it in my face daily. But seeing it on his face bothered me.
What all had he found out about me? How much could he have learned in such a short time? Did those things I had been wrongfully accused of show up? And why the heck did I care if Huck Kingston was disgusted with me?
Fine! Be disgusted with me. But get in line, buddy. You aren’t the first one.
“Hayes would never have put a ring on your finger had he known the truth, but then you know that. How did you think you were going to pull off being a minister’s wife?” He let out a hard laugh then. “You were good at it. I was even fucking fooled at the funeral.”
I fisted my hands in my lap. I would not let this man get to me. He wasn’t a saint. His judgment was laughable. At least I’d never killed anyone. I should be disgusted with him.
“Not gonna defend yourself?” he asked, raising one eyebrow as he looked down at me. “Not gonna tell me that you can explain things? You had to have made up some crock-of-shit story to tell my brother in case he ever heard the truth about how you’d lost your scholarship and when. Because it sure as fuck wasn’t a year ago, when you’d finally gone back home.”
He bent down until his eyes were level with mine. The disgust was still there, but I saw something else. Something that should send me running from this room and this house. It wasn’t the first time a man had looked at me like that. I knew what it meant. I’d learned from Roy that a man could be disgusted with you and feel lust at the same time.
“And to think, I had felt like a fucking asshole for making you take off your clothes for me,” he said, tilting his head as a slow, sadistic smile spread across his face. “Then, you spread those legs and bent over, and that pink pussy was glistening with your arousal. I should have known it then.”
His hand shot out, and he grabbed my face with his massive hand. Squeezing my chin so hard that I wanted to cry out from the pain, but I didn’t. I was afraid to move or make a sound.
“You played that part so well. Embarrassed to strip for me when you had done it for money. And my baby brother never knew, did he?” He let go of my face, shoving it away from him as he stood up.
He had found out I’d worked at a strip club for almost six months. No one knew that. I’d worn a wig, colored contacts, and gone by a different name. I hadn’t applied to be a dancer. I didn’t think anyone would want to see my body naked. I started as a server. I was just required to wear a short skirt and pasties over my nipples. After one week, they convinced me to get onstage. Customers had wanted me up there, and the money was the reason I gave in, but I would have done anything to keep from having to go back to my father’s house. Tabitha had made my life a living hell. She was the reason I’d studied so hard in school, determined to get a scholarship to a college as far away from her and the home I’d been forced to live in.
This man didn’t deserve that explanation though. I didn’t know him. One day, I would have told Hayes. He’d have understood. At least, that was what I had told myself when the guilt of my lies taunted me.
“Your disguise was a good one, but that ass?” He released a dark chuckle that made me shiver. “Any man who’s seen it bare would recognize it.”
The dark part of my soul that I feared would always make me bad, no matter how hard I tried, flickered inside me. My body wanted him to like it. That was sick, and I knew it, but it didn’t matter to the demons I tried so hard to fight.
“Don’t get me wrong; your stepmother is a horrible bitch. I get why you didn’t want to go home, but then if you hadn’t been fucking your married professor, then you wouldn’t have lost your scholarship,” Huck drawled.
He was wrong there, but then telling him that was pointless. No one had believed me then, and this man sure wasn’t going to believe me now. I dropped my gaze to my lap and held my hands together, hoping this would end soon and I could go.
“The cleaning business can’t pay as much as that fucking body of yours did. What was it, the guilt over lying to Hayes? He’s dead. You could have gone right back to the pole. More money. Less work.”
No. I had hated every moment on that stage. I’d hated myself for doing it. When my dad had had his first heart attack, I’d gone home and sworn to myself I’d never do something like that again. If I had to work myself to death, doing shitty jobs, I would.
Huck sat down on the table in front of me. His knees pressed against mine. When he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and looked at me, I had to remember to breathe. Up close, it was hard to remember how dangerous he was. Those eyes of his were consuming.
“The man you were working for is dead, but there are those who aren’t happy about it. You escaped that day while everyone else in that house was found with a bullet in them. They know by now that you were the fiancée of my brother. You’re a walking target. Your apartment has already been broken into and ransacked. There is little left of your things, but what is left is being brought here.” He paused and leaned closer to me. “The only way to keep you from being killed is for you to stay here. But you’re not getting a fucking vacation. You’ll cook for us and keep things clean. When we have people over, you’ll cook the food. You’ll fill drinks. You’ll do whatever we ask of you. So, what’s it gonna be?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Leave here and get yourself killed within the hour or stay?”
Was this really a choice? I wanted to think he was lying about my apartment and being a target for some crazed drug gang or whatever they were. But I had seen him shoot a man in the head. These people didn’t joke about this kind of thing.
It was clear he didn’t want me here, but he was doing this for Hayes. Maybe he was right, and Hayes wouldn’t have had anything to do with me if he’d known about my past. I didn’t mind cleaning, and I loved to cook. I was good at that.
Huck cupped the side of my face roughly. “What’s it gonna be?”
“I’ll—I will, uh … I’ll stay. I can clean and cook,” I stammered, feeling slightly off-balance with his face so close that I could smell the scent of spice and cigarette smoke. I didn’t care for cigarettes, but on Huck, it was different.
“Can you cook?” he asked me.
I nodded, then licked my lips. My mouth felt dry, and I had to squeeze my legs together to relieve the ache between them. Huck was a bad man, and I was turned on by him. Was it the evil in his gaze that I was drawn to? Tabitha would say it was.
Huck slid a hand between my legs until they brushed the cotton fabric of my panties, and I gasped. That, I hadn’t expected. My eyes went wide, and my breathing quickened. He ran a finger over the fabric in a circular motion. Only my fingers had touched there. Having someone else do it was different. Having Huck Kingston do it was sinful, but I didn’t care.
“That’s all it took, and your panties are wet,” he said in a husky whisper, then slipped a finger under the fabric and pushed it inside of me.
I cried out from the shock and pleasure of it. That was very new. When I touched myself, I only rubbed my clit until I orgasmed. I had never stuck anything inside of me. I realized my mistake now. I should have tried this years ago.
There was no longer disgust in his eyes, I realized. They were like two blue flames as he watched me. He looked on edge, as if he might bolt at any moment. He began to press his thick finger further into me.
“Fucking hell, that’s a tight pussy,” he growled.
I whimpered as he began to pump his finger in and out of me. My mouth fell open as I took short, fast breaths. I dropped my gaze to his hand between my legs.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
That was too much. Seeing his big hand inside my panties was something that fantasies were made of. I didn’t want this to ever stop.
“Too fucking easy,” he said, jerking his hand away from me as if I had bitten him, and he stood up.
His fingers wrapped around my arm tightly before hauling me up. When I was flush against him, he grabbed my waist and spun me around to face the sofa. His hand pressed against my back, forcing me forward. I placed my hands on the back of the sofa before I face-planted on it. I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing, but he shoved the T-shirt I was wearing halfway up my back, then grabbed my panties and ripped them off my body.
There were so many things going on at once, and I was battling to figure out which one I should be feeling. Excitement, arousal, fear, or were all of them at once acceptable too?
His hand landed on my left butt cheek with a loud smack, causing me to cry out from the pain. “Spread ’em,” he barked at me.
He grabbed my butt cheeks with his hands. “Fucking hell,” he said in a hoarse whisper that I felt all the way to my clit.
The arousal was definitely winning in my swarm of emotions. No man had ever touched me like this. I was having a morning of firsts, and so far, they were all something I wanted to do again. Many times.
The heat from Huck’s breath caressed my throbbing clit. His face was between my thighs. I should probably be embarrassed, but his tongue ran along the sensitive folds, and my knees buckled. I cried out as I gripped the back of the sofa harder. The room was spinning.
“Damn, you taste sweet,” he growled.
His hands continued to squeeze my butt cheeks as he buried his tongue inside of me. This was bad. I shouldn’t just be letting this happen, yet I wasn’t sure I could stop it even if I wanted to. Nothing had ever felt this incredible.
Another slap to my bottom, and I cried out in shock, pain, or was it pleasure? I didn’t know the difference anymore. A long, thick finger slid inside of me, and I began to pant.
“That’s a tight pussy for a slut,” he said, plunging it into me. “No man’s had this cunt in a while.”
Unable to control my body, I moaned and rocked against his hand. No man had ever had my cunt. His fingers were the first ones to be inside of it. I should tell him this in case he planned on putting his penis in me. But I was afraid he’d stop, and I wanted more. The build inside of me as I drew closer to my release was stronger than anything I’d ever managed to do to myself. I wanted to know what that felt like. I was having to bite my bottom lip to keep from pleading with him to get me there. The throb between my legs was verging on painful as I began to pant.
Before I could spiral out of control, his hand was gone. There was nothing there but cold air.
“No!” My voice sounded as desperate as I felt.
I held myself like that, with my body trembling from the lack of fulfillment as Huck walked away. I watched as he turned the corner. He didn’t look back once.
When I heard the door slam at the top of the stairs, I sank down onto the floor and curled my body up into a tight ball. Slowly, I began to rock, but no tears came. They never did. Not anymore. I banged my forehead on my knees, wishing I could be anyone else.
Hating myself was a plague that I was finding out didn’t go away. The truth was, Hayes wouldn’t have married me. Even if he had lived. Because eventually, he’d have seen the evil in me too. The girl that was impossible to love. How could I expect someone to truly care for me when I hated myself?
