Kept Safe by Lucy Wild

Author:Lucy Wild [Wild, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

BELLA

When I woke up, for the briefest of moments, I thought everything was okay. I was snuggled into someone, blanket over us both. His chest was rising and lowering under my arm and I sighed with happiness. Then that moment was over. My mind laughed at my attempt to feel good, sending a reminder of everything that had happened coursing through me in under a second. I’d been kidnapped. I’d been trapped in a cellar. The man who’d done it to me, he was there next to me. Last night, he’d…we’d…I blushed furiously, all breath leaving my lungs, my heart seeming to stop entirely.

How had that happened? How had I let it happen? I could lie and say he forced me to do it, gave me no choice, threatened me into submitting to him. But the truth was that I wanted to. When he told me to strip, I did so gladly, the shackles of repression and modesty falling away from me. He was a caveman and I was his cavewoman, his to use, to protect, to…to…to fuck. The thought of it made me cringe. That’s what he’d done. He’d fucked me. There was no other way of putting it.

The hardest thing to cope with was the fact that it had felt so damn good. His cock inside me had felt like the greatest thing in the world, so different to the fumblings I’d gone through with my two previous boys. For that’s all they were in comparison to him. They were boys and he was a man, a real man, a man who knew what he wanted and took it and to hell with the consequences.

He groaned and I turned to find him putting a hand to his forehead as he sat up. “I’m a dead man,” he muttered, blinking and coughing as he looked across at me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, worried on his behalf. “You keep saying that.”

“I was told to keep my hands off you,” he said. “I think I fucked up.”

“Who told you that? Who told you not to touch me?”

“Your father.”

He carried on talking but I’d stopped listening. The word father rattled around my head, echoing louder and louder. My father had told him not to touch me. But that meant…

“Is my father alive?” I asked, sitting bolt upright.

He nodded. “Shit, I’m dead already. I might as well tell you. What does it matter now?” He fell silent for a moment before continuing, as if deciding how to word it. “I know you thought he was dead. I did too. But a week ago he got in touch, out of nowhere. Told me he wanted to hire me to keep you safe.”

“He hired you to keep me safe?” There was something he wasn’t telling me but I couldn’t work out what it was.

“Told me you were in danger, gave me your address, told me he’d bought the house next door for me. All I had to do was move in, get you in the cellar and keep you there until he could arrange to get you out of the country.

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