Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

My eyes jolt open as a surge of consciousness overtakes my body. I gasp, blinking vigorously in the hopes that they adjust quickly to the darkness that feels like it’s suffocating me, but it’s no use. I can’t see a damn thing. A violent chill runs down my spine, sending a current of prickled bumps to my flesh. Soreness forms at my jaw as my teeth chatter uncontrollably. I lift my hands and legs at the same time, thrashing them, expecting shackles to clink in response, but to my surprise my limbs are free of restraints. My hands rush to my hips, the lace of my booty shorts brushing against my palms. Skimming my hand closer to the apex of my thighs, the delicate fabric is still damp with the remnants of my arousal, causing the vision from before of Colson trapped between the chokehold of my thighs to invade my mind.

A conflicting sensation overwhelms me as my mind races, trying to recall exactly what happened after I thrashed against Colson’s face, but it all feels so fuzzy. The last thing I remember before the chemical-soaked fabric assaulted my mouth was Colson being dragged off the bed. I couldn’t get a good look at who did it. All I could make out was that their face was covered by a ski mask and their voice sounded almost robotic.

Panic strikes me, contorting my stomach into knots, tempting me to give in and shut down. But I can’t. I’ve been trained to push through my anxieties, ignore my emotions, like Carmine taught me. It’s how I succeed. It’s how I’m able to survive. But this is different. Out of all the scary situations I’ve been put into, I’ve never been kidnapped or unable to discern my surroundings… without a phone or weapons or anything. Fuck, this is so bad. Still, I can’t allow myself to be riddled by the very real fear that makes my breathing feel shallow and my throat dry. If I give in to the fear, then I’ll never get out of here. Wherever the fuck here even is.

Slowly, I straighten my back against what feels like exposed brick. The silk of my robe catches to the rough, uneven wall as I sit up. I part my lips to scream, but my jaw is too strained from the incessant chattering due to the cold. Desperate for an ounce of warmth, I cup my hands in front of my mouth, expelling jagged gusts of air onto them before I attempt to shout again.

“Hello!” I shriek, but all my ears are met with is the deafening echo of my own voice bouncing back at me.

Clearing my throat, I try to dig deeper, screaming louder. “Hello?” I call out, louder than before. “Hel–” I begin to scream just as a cold calloused palm clamps down, covering my mouth and nose.

I growl and squirm, trying to fight off the overpowering palm, but the hold won’t budge. Flustered, I contort my mouth open as much as I can, trying to chomp at the flesh pressed over my mouth. But there’s not enough give, so I opt to stick my tongue out enough to startle the stronghold off me.

“Ew,” the familiar voice rasps.

Colson.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, retracting his hand. “Did you just lick me?” His question is an accusation with a little too much disgust for my liking.

My breath catches in my mouth as I push out a dramatic scoff. “Oh please, don’t pretend you didn’t like my tongue on you. You’re lucky I didn’t bite it and break the skin, since you so rudely interrupted me.”

“Well, you were being so fucking loud, someone could have heard you,” he warns, clearly oblivious to how stupid he sounds. I swear, he’s lucky that he’s hot, because he truly is a grade-A jackass half the time.

“That’s the fucking point, genius. I want whoever the fuck brought us here to hear us so we can get some fucking answers!”

“Holy shit, you really are stubborn, aren’t you?” He attempts to insult me, but it only adds to the annoyance boiling in my veins.

I straighten my arm, grasping at the air until I catch hold of something. His arm? Face? I don’t know, but wherever I’ve landed, I stay there, capturing my middle finger with the pad of my thumb and flicking him as hard as I can.

“Hey!” he snaps. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Oh please, since when have we ever been nice to each other, Colson?” I yelp, driving another flick at him, for good measure. “If you’re expecting me to kiss your ass now, all because you give good head, you can fuck right off because that’s not happening. And in case you didn’t catch on, we’ve been kidnapped, so do you really think it’s the time for hand-holding and being nice?” I huff, shifting to my knees.

He lets out a chuckle disguised as a sigh. “I don’t know. I just thought-”

I clear my throat, cutting him off. “That was rhetorical. Big word, I know. If we had our fucking phones,” I shout, “you’d be able to look it up.” I pause, stewing on how to insult him further when a dot of red light breaks through the unending darkness, piquing my interest. He mumbles something I don’t care to pay attention to. Ignoring him, I rise to my feet, wanting to further inspect the small red orb that has been flashing every few seconds.

“Are you even listening to me?” Colson asks.

“No,” I deadpan, motioning for him to join me, forgetting that it’s pitch black in here. “Come here,” I demand.

“Where? I can’t see shit,” he scoffs, but like a good boy, he listens and the shuffling of his jeans against his obedient movements is like music to my ears.

“Alright, just follow my voice,” I instruct and, of course, it’s met with a sigh.

“Okay, well you’re going to need to say more than three fucking words, Raiden. How do you expect me to–” he’s about to drone on further, but I cut him off with a loud click of my tongue.

“How do you expect me to say more than three words if you don’t kindly shut the fuck up? Now be a good boy–”

“Good boy, really?” he cuts me off.

“Ah,” I sigh, “fine, be a good little man-whore and follow my voice. Is that better? Or would you prefer something more degrading?” I ask and, finally picking up on my sarcasm–and what a rhetorical question is, for that matter–he keeps his mouth shut and starts walking closer to me as I begin to rattle off the lyrics to the first song that pops in my head.

“Are you singing ‘You Wanna Get Me High’”? he asks, not hiding the impressed inflection in his tone.

“I’m talking, not singing. Of course, your pothead self would recognize that song,” I correct him, trying to downplay how impressed I am that he recognized the song.

“Obviously The Donnas are an underrated gem of the ‘90s and early ‘00s.”

Be still my heart because…facts.

“Whatever. Hurry up, let’s get a move on,” I urge flustered, just as his large, warm palm clumsily taps at my crossed arms. Fuck, why is it that even the slightest touch from him excites me when it shouldn’t? The two of us are arguably a bigger nightmare than the one we’ve currently been thrust into.

“What now, princess?” he taunts. Thankfully, the nickname kills the vibe, which means I can stop thinking with my pussy and focus.

“Alright, buttercup,” I taunt back. “Give me a boost.”

“Why?” he asks, as if me trying to figure a way out of here is an inconvenience to him.

An exasperated sigh slips past my lips, echoing in the cramped, cold space. “Just fucking give me a lift,” I bite out. I can already sense that he’s going to be a condescending dick about it. “Please?” I drag out, not hiding an ounce of sarcasm in my tone.

“Atta girl,” he praises condescendingly, as if he really wasn’t going to do it if I didn’t say please.

Who knew a guy willing to break into my house and hide in my closet after he slipped me with what I’m pretty sure was melatonin –given the mild tiredness it gave me – would be such a stickler for manners.

In silence he presses his surprisingly warm chest against mine, and I can tell from the semi-suppressed grunt he makes as my breasts skim across his chest that he likes the forced proximity. Not going to lie, so do I, but there isn’t any time to explore that, not when we’ve been literally fucking kidnapped.

“On the count of three,” he instructs.

I nod even though he can’t see it and press further into his warmth.

“One, two–”

“Three,” a robotic voice interrupts, stealing our attention, followed by a bright flash that cuts through the darkness, filling the room with shades of neon light. “Welcome, Raiden and Colson. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Colson’s hand drops to mine, tugging me toward him. “Did you hear that?” he whispers.

Not even bothering to look at him, I let go of his palm. “No shit.” I roll my eyes. Stepping forward, I look into the now visible camera lens in the far corner of the room. “Where are we?” I ask.

“That doesn’t matter,” the voice deadpans.

“The fuck it doesn’t,” Colson quips. He leaps forward, closing the space that I created between us, and yanks at my shoulder to get my attention.

“Damn, if you want to yank at something, I rather you pull my hair and fuck me, not dislocate my arm, sweetheart,” I singsong, voice ripe with sarcasm.

His mouth opens as he points his free hand to the camera recording us. “Cut the shit, Rae.”

“Oh my god, Rae? Look at us. One face-fuck in and we’re at nickname status already,” I pout.

“You’re insufferable, you know that right?” he asks in a serious tone that makes him look and sound cuter than he intended.

“I know,” I wink, reveling in the flustered expression plastered all over that chiseled, fuckable face.

Directing his attention back to the lens, he continues. “Did she put you up to this?” he asks, practically accusing me.

“Excuse me?” I move to his side, swatting his pointed index finger down. “Yeah Colson, I planned for you to break into my house and then have us both kidnapped. Get a fucking grip.”

He stares at me and for a moment he almost looks embarrassed that he accused me of being behind this, considering how our evening started. “I mean, you lied about who you were for how long?” He asks with an unexpectedly calmness in his voice and I can’t help but to feel that the fact that I not only lied about who I was but that I lied to him, hurt him more than he wants to admit. My lips purse, defaulting to my usual scowl and he adjusts the tone of his voice accordingly. “I wouldn’t put it past you to be lying now, Raiden Re-mos.”

The way he butchers the pronunciation of my name on purpose truly is a crime.

I laugh. “You really need to work on rolling your R’s. Not only will it help you pronounce my name properly when you fist fuck your cock at night, it will help you eat pussy better,” I lie, because the man can eat…and suck…and do otherworldly things with that tongue of his. I haven’t had my pussy eaten and teased – or spanked so good – like that…ever. Seriously, I’m fluttering just thinking about it, even as I want to slap him and whoever is responsible for us being dragged here.

He rubs his palm at his mouth trying to suppress his smug grin. “You came, didn’t you? It’s not my fault your pussy is the only part of you that’s incapable of lying.”

Twisting my arm, he pulls me closer, forcing my chest against his again. He lowers his stubbled jaw. His lips are now so close to mine that it feels like we’re kissing just like that night in the foyer. Except this time, we’ve already crossed a physical threshold, that makes this closeness feel even more intense.

“Yes?” I ask, just as I gather the saliva at the back of my throat and spit at him. The droplets of saliva coat his scruffy cheek and I can’t tell if he looks disgusted or turned on…or both.

As he squeezes my wrist tighter, I let out a forced whimper. He thinks he’s hurting me, but he’s not. I could easily fight him off. I’m choosing not to because for one, I like it a little rough, and two, it irritates him that his tough guy act doesn’t work on me. I see right through him. His jagged edges simply protect all those sweet parts that he thinks he needs to hide when, truthfully, he doesn’t need to. Every tornado needs a reprieve in the form of a calm burst of sexy sunshine. And that’s exactly what he is, light within my darkness, but of course, I can’t let him know that otherwise we’ll never get out of here.

His tongue clicks, tension holding his jaw hostage, as he breaks the stronghold of his mouth to speak. “Next time you want to spit in my face, warn me,” he pauses, moving his saliva coated finger to my lips. “I’ll take my cock out for you to sit on. Don’t want to waste nature’s lube.”

“You fucking wish,” I playfully scoff before releasing an amused sigh. “Oh, and Colson?” I say sweetly, pausing so I know I have his full attention.

His brows lift in unison, waiting for me to go on.

“Put your finger in or near my mouth and I’ll fucking bite it off,” I threaten, showing my teeth as I chomp at him.

“Yeah, okay. You just don’t want to be tempted to suck it like you did in the dining room,” he grumbles, and my cheeks heat at the memory from a month ago.

“Whatever, dick,” I groan.

“Psycho,” he grumbles back.

Both our chests rise and fall in rapid unison. Just waiting for which one of us will break and say something next.

“Ahem,” the voice interrupts. “If you two are done, I believe it’s time to begin. I advise that you both save that gusto for when the games begin,” the voice states dryly. “Which will be momentarily, once we explain the rules.”

“Games?” we ask in unison.

“That’s why we brought you here.”

“Kidnapped us,” Colson corrects.

“Is that judgment I detect in your voice? Rich coming from someone who had to resort to slipping someone a little nighttime potion so they could get their rocks off,” the anonymous speaker taunts, so matter-of -act that I’m not sure if I want to blush, laugh, or shout.

“How did you know that?” I ask.

“All of that will be answered in time, but first, if either of you want to make it out of here, we must explain the rules.”

My lips part, but the voice resumes before I can speak. “This place is our little secret. You can’t find us on a map, Google, nothing. We are off the radar, underground, and most importantly, soundproof. What happens within our walls stays within our walls. If you don’t follow the rules, your time here will become more…permanent.”

Colson clasps his hands behind his head as he begins pacing. Every few steps, his heated gaze flickers over to me, as if this is my fault. “Of course,” he groans.

“Are you okay?” I ask sounding sarcastic, even though I mean it.

“Um yeah, I’m fantastic. We’re just in a real-life version of Saw. No big deal.” He points his finger at the speaker for emphasis and I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this whole situation is.

The validity in his joke isn’t lost on me because I’m wondering that exact thing, but I can’t let him see that I’m afraid, because then he’ll really crumble. As it is, he’s already probably freaking out that he can’t rip a couple hits of his vape to calm down, since whoever is responsible for kidnapping us made sure to empty our pockets before we got here.

“Calm down. I’ll protect you, big boy. I’ll keep a look out for the puppet on the tricycle.” I pout, sealing my words with a middle finger aimed towards him.

“Fuck you,” he sneers.

“Later,” the voice interrupts, stealing our attention once more.

“There’s a series of obstacles you must go through. Three rounds. One challenge, one dare and then of course, the truth round.”

“What happens if we don’t want to play?” Colson asks.

I turn to where he stands with his chest puffed out. “That’s not how escape rooms work.”

He lifts both hands in condescending defeat “Oh, that’s right, you’re the mastermind behind it all. Of course, you know how it works.”

“Once again, I didn’t do this. And secondly, that’s literally the universal truth of escape rooms. You have to work to escape them. They’re not just going to hand you the key and go ‘exit this way.’”

“Last time I checked, people don’t get kidnapped and forced into them,” he counters.

“Correct,” the voice interjects, drawing our attention to it once more. “Which is why if you want out of here and want this,” the voice stops and a grainy image appears, projected onto the brick. It’s difficult to see at first, but once the picture comes into focus, we both stare at the flash drive labeled Demonio. “You play.”

Both our eyes widen, though Colson’s reaction morphs into pure rage. Again, he points at me, and his steel gray irises look darker than I’ve ever seen them. “You’re really going to keep this act up, pretending you didn’t have anything to do with this?”

“I didn’t,” I protest, but it’s useless.

“Bullshit! That’s what you stole that night. Isn’t it?!”

“Yeah, but it means nothing to me! It was just a job.”

His neck cranks forward. “Just a job? What kind of fucking job do you work that requires you to go undercover and steal from people?”

“If it were that simple, I’d tell you. But think about what you’re asking. It’s above your pay grade, buddy. Now, shut the fuck up.”

Thankfully, he has nothing left to say.

“Ok, we’re ready,” I answer for us, and I can tell by the way Colson is audibly grinding his teeth that he isn’t so sure.

“No,” Colson quips with his jaw tense.

I turn to him, glaring.

“We’re ready,” I repeat.

“You’re going to pay for this,” he mutters.

Yeah okay, buddy, keep fucking thinking that.

Refusing to respond verbally, I blow him a kiss hoping that it both eases his worries and annoys him.

He rolls his eyes before turning his head in the direction of the speaker on the wall.

“Excellent. But before we begin you must keep in mind two crucial things.”

“Yes?” our voices drag in unison.

“Tell the truth, even if it kills you…”

Okay, that’s one thing, I think to myself, but the dramatic pause begins to inject apprehension in the air.

“And,” the voice announces, before yet another dramatic pause. “Make no mistake. The price of entry may have been determined by fate, but to exit, blood must be shed one way or another. Good luck.”

Great.