Genesis Lost - Books 1 - 6, page 111
After fifteen minutes, the distance between her tracks got smaller. She had to slow down. Catch her breath.
Another ten yards and her prints indicated she had slowed to a walk. And an exhausted one, judging by the way her feet had dragged the mud.
And there, right in front of me, was a figure stumbling toward the moonlight.
“Kim!”
She didn’t turn around. That would have wasted time. Instead, she fell back into a sprint, her huffs and puffs audible even from yards away.
“Stop!” I shouted, but she kept on going.
Her legs hasted into a sharp right and down an incline. Then it happened.
Her outline disappeared, the only thing left behind a scream and a never-ending tumble. She rolled down the incline. And just as I thought a boulder must have stopped her with a hit against her head, she jumped up and kept on running.
My heels drove into the mud, squishing the moss aside as I ran and slipped behind her. This woman really wanted to get away from me. If my lungs already burned like this, how on earth was this tiny creature still breathing?
Two minutes later, I had caught up with her. I reached out my hand. I was so close now.
I dug my fingers into her hair, which wasn’t only soft — it was also strong. From what I could tell, not a single strand broke when her scalp bounced back against my fist, which sent her to the ground underneath a yelp.
“Let me go,” she screamed. “I’m not your fucking wife.”
She turned around, ignoring the strain against her skull, and sent punches and kicks my way. Everything this woman had she sent against me, her own husband, desperately trying to get away from me. From us.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” I gave one more tug against her hair, which made her body crash against my hard chest. “Where are you even going? You’ve got no weapon, no water, no — oomph.”
That last sound came out entirely breathed as she bore her elbow deep into my stomach.
“I’m not your property.”
She ran once more.
“You’re my wife!”
I jumped after her, wrapping my arms around her legs and making both of us hit the ground. Bonk!
More kicks came, this time bruising my jaw and busting my lip.
I worked myself along her body, pinning her down underneath my weight. Mud had crept down my butt crack, but at this point, I could only ignore it.
Kim tossed her body to the side, sending us into a roll across the forest floor, roots digging into my shoulders and rocks chaffing along my skin.
I grabbed her arms and disabled all movement. “Stop it! Stop fighting me!”
“I’ll never be your wife!”
“You already are!”
I got up and shouldered her, her punches against my back turning weaker and weaker at each swing. Eventually, she hung limp draped across my body, but her filthy mouth never tired.
Caked in mud, moss, and what reeked like traces of a fight between a wolf and a skunk, I stomped back to the cabin with blood on my tongue and a burning sensation along half my face. Probably scratched me.
I was pissed.
As far as I knew, I saved her life by marrying her — or something along those lines. Was a little appreciation too much to ask? Were a few weeks to give this a shot more than she was willing to spare for a guy like me?
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Home.”
She twisted her body and slapped me against the back of my head. “It’s not my home.”
I took a sharp turn around the cabin. “You want me to get you back home? That’s what you want? I’ll gladly tie you to that damn bike first thing in the morning and drive your ass back to where it came from.”
She turned silent for a moment, not saying a peep until I pulled her off my shoulder and planted her on the smooth river rocks. “That’s not home, either.”
I pulled my sweater off and tossed it to the ground. “Where is home, then? Tell me, Kim. Where is home?”
Quiet.
That, and a wet sparkle in her eyes glistening heated underneath the moonlight.
I grabbed her wrist with one hand and fumbled my pants open with the other, kicking and working it to the ground.
Her posture turned rigid once more. Unmoving. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking a fucking shower,” I snarled, and pushed my briefs down. “And so are you.”
“No!”
“Yes, you are, because we stink like dead animal and deer shit.”
She pulled away.
I pulled her back, positioning myself behind her with one arm slung around her waist. Kim dug her nails deep into my arm, kicking her legs and hanging her entire weight against me. That sweater of hers went anyway, exposing two heaving, bouncing breasts.
She stomped her heels onto my feet, making me groan in pain. “If you don’t stop, I’ll scream. Your mom will hear it and she —”
“My mom sleeps with earplugs because my dad snores like a train.” I struggled her pants open and worked it down along with her panties, laying her pussy bare, and fighting her kicks against my half-hard cock. “She won’t hear your screams, and neither will anybody else.”
“Are you going to rape me now? Is that it?”
“Slip out of your shoes.”
“No!”
“Fine! Suit yourself!”
She struggled away once more, but her limbs had turned too weak, too exhausted to put up anything worth calling a fight.
The struggle with this woman, no matter how draining it was, aroused me like nothing ever before. She was my wife. My beautiful wife, standing in front of me naked from the top of her head down to her ankles, where her pants bunched against her shoes.
The frigid air had turned her nipples hard. Her skin radiated heat from all the wrestling, still keeping her from breaking out in goosebumps. I could have fucked her right then and there, and nobody would have voiced a complaint.
“Just get it over with,” she mumbled, her voice suddenly void of all that life this woman had inside her.
I grabbed her and pulled her underneath the showerhead, nestling my hard cock against her lower abdomen. Just a little bit of rubbing, and I could have made myself come. Spurt my cum all over her without invading. But my folks didn’t raise a rapist.
“No?” she asked and gazed up at me, something cunning flashing from her eyes. “You’re not gonna do it, are you? Because you’ve never done it before and now you’re scared. Maybe you don’t know how.”
That superiority in her voice left me equally challenged and intrigued. Had she done it before? Had someone taken it from her, leaving behind a woman who turned to stone at my touch?
I caressed her cheeks with mine, kissing the side of her neck and whispering, “Just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I don’t know where to put it.”
Then I turned the shower on, sending her ear-shattering scream deep into the night.
Five
Kim
I lay in bed with one wrist zip-tied to the frame, waiting for my warden to wake up and grant me my morning potty break.
Ten days.
That’s how long Oriel had kept me tied up at night. During the day, he watched me like a hawk, even though he had barricaded most windows and put a security lock on the door. Because he had to think about what to do with me, or so he said.
I had heard people say marriage was a prison. But damn, they weren’t kidding.
The fire in the small iron stove had long gone out, turning my skin into a bumpy landscape each morning, no matter how many blankets Oriel tossed on top of me each night.
My escape plan had failed. Again. Probably because it wasn’t much of a plan to begin with. Clearly, I had underestimated that man’s ambition to keep me.
If I wanted to get out of here, I had to be a lot smarter about it. What did all this fight against him get me? A freezing shower with my pants tangled around my ankles while his hard cock poked my bellybutton.
But he did not rape me.
Even now that he had locked every single pants, sweater, underwear, and socks in a closet, stripping me naked, he never raped me.
Touched me? Yes.
Kissed me? Mmh… yeah.
Smelled me? All the damn time.
But actually taking that near-permanent boner of his and shoving it up my cunt? Never.
For a moment, he might have fooled me into thinking he was a nice guy.
Then I remembered I was his prisoner.
A knock came from the door, followed by Oriel stepping in and pressing a gentle kiss onto my forehead. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”
“No, I didn’t fucking sleep okay. How much longer are you going to keep me tied at night?”
He grabbed a flip-knife from his back pocket and cut the zip tie. “Until you behave yourself or fall in love with me. Whichever comes first, though I’d prefer the latter.”
“Fall in love with you?” I snorted, letting my hand massage the brownish-red imprint on my wrist. “You’re insane if you think I’ll ever love you.”
“Not insane. Just determined.”
“Not to mention overly confident and perhaps a bit too convinced of your charm. Which is zero, by the way.”
He pulled the blankets off, all four of them, and exposed my naked body. The only thing he let me have was a panty because, after almost two weeks, that idiot still believed I had my period.
We went through our morning routine. I used the potty and sent yet another fabric pad down the drain, bringing me to a grand total of twenty-three. For now.
After I washed myself and brushed my teeth, I strolled over to the table where a mug of tea and a sweet bun waited for me. All the while, Oriel stoked the flames in the large stone fireplace, adding one log after another to keep me somewhat comfortable.
“I want my clothes back,” I said and took a sip of the tea.
“Did I put enough sugar this time?”
“Did you hear what I said? I want my clothes back.”
He strolled over and sat down across from me, not a bit ashamed of how he licked his lips while his eyes caressed my body. How this man could still form coherent thoughts was beyond me, considering he walked around with a hard-on all day.
A dirty smirk formed on his lips. “I like you better without. Besides, I can see you doing a lot of stupid shit, but running again? Naked? I don’t think so. It’s a precaution, nothing else.”
“You already turned this place into a high-security prison. Even if I wanted to run, we both know there’s no way for me to get out of here.”
He leaned back and propped his hands behind his head, surveying me as if he had to make sure nothing of his property had gone amiss. “Sixty days.”
“You are going to let me run around naked for another two months?”
“No.” He swung his hands onto the table and leaned forward, letting his fingers inch toward mine. “I want you to be my wife for sixty days. If you’re sure you can’t love me after that time, you’re free to go.”
I eyed him warily. Not loving him after sixty days? That sounded way too easy to be true. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is you’ll have to give it a real shot.” His fingertips touched mine, sending a warmth into my body I didn’t appreciate, no matter how cold I was. “No more running. No more fighting me.”
“And if I run?”
His lips formed something between a pout and a smile. “Then I’ll hunt you down. Over and over and over again.” He paused for a moment, his voice dropping into something so husky it vibrated between my legs. “And each time I capture you, I’ll take you straight to the shower.”
“No!”
A deep-rooted laugh formed at the back of his throat. Probably because he had no idea how that freezing shower was the worst of punishments. Or perhaps he did?
I pulled my fingertips away from his. “When you say a real shot —”
“I want everything,” he said. “All of you. I want your past. Your funny stories. Your sad ones. And I want your body.”
That part about my body should have scared me the most.
But it didn’t.
I was used to giving my body to men less deserving than him. It was a job, nothing else. But my past? Even a rugged guy like Oriel wouldn’t be able to handle it, no matter how oil-stained and scratched up he came inside each evening.
Hell, I couldn’t even handle my past.
“Okay, I’ll give it a real shot. You can have all of me. But not my past.”
Oriel rose and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing his set of tools from the counter. “No deal then.”
“Wait.” I jumped up and hurried toward him. “We can negotiate, right? I promise I won’t run. I’ll give it a real shot, I swear. But my past doesn’t belong to anyone but me.”
He watched how I tip-toed in place, every curve on my body bouncing and jiggling in front of him. It didn’t take long until his cock strained against his pants. But I knew he wouldn’t touch me. Why wouldn’t he just take me like all the others have?
“Alright, let’s negotiate.” He put his tools back on the counter and walked up to me, pressing his erection against me underneath a moan I knew he had tried to hide. “Sixty days. You’ll give it a real shot. Your past stays yours, but I wanna make love to you right now.”
There he was.
That man I’d seen a hundred times over, here to take from me what I wasn’t able to protect. Not that it deserved any protection. Not anymore.
I hadn’t been a virgin since thousands of fucks ago, and there was no pretending my body still had anything of a value that needed protecting.
In his mind, he was already inside me. I could see it in the way he pulled me against him, acting as if I was his because he had a punch card or money, or just... happened to be my husband.
My limbs turned stiff, the heat from the fire doing little to keep me from freezing. I could do this. Oriel had just made himself a client of mine. I was the ware, and the freedom he offered was the payment. Sounded fair.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
He picked me up and slung my legs around his waist. “Are you still bleeding?”
“It’s pretty much gone,” I said, which wasn’t even that big of a lie.
His strong arms carried me into his bedroom, where he tossed me onto his bed. For a moment, I questioned if freedom was worth it. This… Oriel turning into a client. Turning me back into Lily.
He pulled my panty off, too fired up to notice there was no pad. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and stripped out of his pants but left his briefs on.
His hand grabbed himself, though, tugging and pulling his cock underneath the fabric. “Just to clarify, you’ve never done this before, right?”
My past was mine. That was the deal. “No.”
He nodded and slowly took his briefs off, revealing a thick, broad-headed cock. “I was told it can be painful the first time.”
And it was. Four years ago…
“I’ll manage.”
Oriel climbed onto the mattress and nestled his cock between my legs, staring down at us as he targeted my entrance. After a few seconds, he grabbed himself once more, guiding his cockhead between my lips.
“It’s… uh… it’s very dry.”
No kidding.
Not something a bit of my own spit couldn’t fix.
I smeared it across my folds and between them, readying myself with my palm what my body failed to do on its own long ago.
With barely any friction, he moaned and groaned, without even having an inch of him inside me. This wouldn’t take long. A minute perhaps. Five tops.
I spread my legs wider to make it easier for him and faster for me. Then I let my mind slip away, disconnecting from my body the way I had done it for the last four years.
It was easy. A skill most Lily’s acquired over time. Our bodies were there, faking as much enjoyment as our muscles would let us. But our minds were elsewhere. With our mothers. Our siblings. The homes we had lost. Sometimes our thoughts rested with those bad decisions we had made, back when Knox offered protection, food, and a roof over our heads.
Oriel’s wet palm slapped against my pussy, spreading his saliva where my body still failed to get myself ready for him. At least he learned quick.
He showered my body in kisses, starting at my numb mouth, I believe. Or was it my cheek? Things like that were hard to tell when you weren’t currently inside your body.
I’d say they trailed down my chest, where his tongue circled my nipples and sucked them into his mouth. His hand stroked my hair while the other held his cock, slathering it on our spit as he inched inside me.
He smelled good. That much I noticed. That hint of engine oil never really left his body no matter how many times he showered. But the body wash masked it well enough to make it pleasant.
How long since we started? My inner clock told me he should be done by now, yet he hadn’t even penetrated me yet. Just wiggled his flesh between my folds, thrusting more into his own fist than he thrust into me.
What if he lied? My body tensed even more than before, turning from stiff to statue. What if he wouldn’t let me go after sixty days?
Without warning, Oriel rolled off me.
He got up and dressed himself, leaving me behind unused.
“That’s not what all of you should feel like,” he mumbled and pulled a new zip tie from the bag on the nightstand. “You’re drier than Ruth’s muffins.”
Oh, excuse me for not dripping because of yet another cock.
Nothing my clients couldn’t fix with another snort of spit. They never cared as long as they got me usable. Did he care? And if so, why would he?
He stepped up beside me. “Give me your arm.”
“What?” I kicked myself up to sit, pulling my knees into my chest. “Why? I did what we agreed on.”
“No, you didn’t.” He pulled my arm, and within seconds, I was tied back to the frame. “I don’t know much about you, Kim, but I get that you weren’t here just now. Your pussy was, but your mind was somewhere entirely different.”
