Pure Pleasures

  I swallowed as he came in my mouth, not spilling a single drop. His hands dropped from my head and I let his cock fall from between my lips, still half-hard. That was good, because I was far from done with him. Aside from the sound of his breathing, Rylan was silent, watching me. I smiled as I climbed up onto the couch, rubbing my body against his as I went. I felt his cock twitch and my smile widened. He definitely had another round in him.

  I stood on the couch, one foot on either side of his lap, then leaned forward so that my knees were resting against his shoulders. I ran my fingers through his hair, then used it to tilt his head up to look at me. Slowly, I inched forward, keeping my eyes on his until his mouth was right where I wanted it.

  “Yes,” I moaned as he ran his tongue along my slit.

  He reached up and grabbed my hips, fingers digging into my ass as he held me in place. I put my hands on the wall for balance and was immediately glad I had as his tongue began to move over and around my swollen clit. I closed my eyes as he coaxed me towards another orgasm. Every pass of his tongue sent another wave of pleasure washing over me, fuel for the coming fire. My hips moved in small, circular motions, wanting him everywhere at once. It was tongue and lips and teeth and so much sensation that I thought I was going to explode.

  And then I did, crying out his name. My legs buckled and he slid me down his body until I was settled in his lap. I rested against his chest for a moment, limbs limp as my nerves sung. There it was, that steady heartbeat that kept me grounded. Even fast, it wasn't erratic and I clung to that sound.

  His hands were under the robe on my back, fingers moving up and down my spine in a soothing motion. I could feel his cock under me, hardening as I shifted my weight on his lap.

  When I could move again, I rose up on my knees. He was ready again and I began to slide down on him. I groaned as he stretched me, thigh muscles quivering as I forced myself to go slow. His hands were on my waist and I could feel him holding back. Even taking my time, I needed a moment when I finally came to rest with him deep inside me. I slid my hands under his shirt, nails raking across his hard abs and then up to his nipples. He swore when I teased them and then again when I began a gentle rocking motion.

  My entire body was one throbbing mess of nerves, each one raw and waiting for the next climax. I braced myself against his chest and began to ride him. I used everything that I'd learned, taunting him with changing speed, squeezing him, grinding down so that my clit rubbed against him. I kept expecting my muscles to start burning, but they didn't. Electricity raced from cell to cell, invigorating me, driving me. I wanted him to feel it too. I needed him to feel what he did to me.

  I gathered him in my arms, pulling him up until I could rest my forehead against his. The cotton of his shirt created the most delicious friction against my nipples and I writhed against him. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I didn't have the words for. All I could do was show him.

  I took his mouth, pouring everything I was feeling into that kiss, into the way my body moved with his. And as he exploded inside me, he whispered against my lips how much he loved me, how he would always be there to protect me and keep me safe.

  I smoothed his hair back from his face and told him that I would do the same. He smiled at me and shook his head.

  “No, my love,” he said. “That's my job. And nothing will keep me from it.” He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against mine...

  My eyes opened and I could still feel the ghost of his kiss on my mouth. My eyes burned with tears, and for a moment, I let myself believe that I didn't know why.

  But I did know.

  Rylan protected me, made me feel safe, and I would always be grateful for that. But it was time for me to do the same for him. I hadn't been holding out hope for us to get back together, but I'd still been clinging to the memory of him for strength, and I couldn't do that anymore. I needed to do what was best for him and completely let him go.

  I pressed my face against my pillow and let myself have one final cry over Rylan Archer.

  Chapter 22

  I was pleasantly surprised at how well I felt the next morning. I'd fully expected Thursday to be just as miserable as the rest of my days had been since leaving Rylan. Instead, I'd fallen back asleep after my decision and managed several hours of dreamless sleep. When I'd woken, I felt better. Not great, but good enough to feel like there was actually a chance for a positive life after all.

  I spent Thursday wondering why the FBI hadn't come after me for releasing the information as well as collecting more. The best I could figure, Agent Matthews had kept things quiet regarding my resignation and the FBI was too busy with their many cases to worry about some pedophiles' names getting leaked. Granted, it wasn't like any of them could find proof of what I'd done, but it wouldn't take a genius for anyone who knew about me to figure it out. Since that probably only meant Agent Matthews and his bosses, I was safe for a while. I doubted his bosses did any hands-on work.

  And I intended to use my time wisely.

  I worked all through Thursday and picked up where I'd left off on Friday. I ate at my laptop, losing myself in the logistics of it all. Since I didn't have to record information for evidence, I was able to avoid triggering flashbacks for the most part, and even the few that came through weren't as intense as they'd been before. I wondered if it also made a difference that I felt like I was actually doing something about the problem rather than just gathering paperwork. Whatever reason, I was grateful for it.

  Despite the fact that it was easier than it had been before, the work was still emotionally draining. I'd released half a dozen names and pulled in nearly a hundred files, which was great, but I knew I couldn't keep up that pace for long. I'd still heard nothing from Agent Matthews and since it was Friday, I'd still have the whole weekend to work without worrying about the FBI making things difficult.

  I'd earned a night off.

  I wasn't going to a club again and even though the thought of sitting here with a movie and some ice cream was highly appealing, I had something else in mind. It had been nearly a week since I'd been to the gym. That, I thought, was what I should consider my relaxation time. I'd spent too long using sex as a stress reliever and as recreation. I'd automatically thought that to relax, I needed find a club or find a guy to fuck. After Rylan, I didn't know it that would ever be an option again.

  Without that, I supposed I only had one other choice, at least if I went with the Freudian way of looking at things.

  Violence.

  I ate a light meal, changed my clothes and then headed downstairs. It was quite nice for mid-March, and surprisingly not raining, so I decided against the bus and started to jog. It was light enough that I chose to take the long way and headed on my usual path through the campus.

  I was partway through when I felt a familiar prickle up my spine. I was going slow enough that I risked a look over my shoulder, but there was no one there. Still, I picked up the pace. Jogging had been a good warm up, I told myself, but I should go a bit faster. It had nothing to do with the fact that I was starting to feel like someone was watching me.

  By the time I reached the gym, my skin was crawling and a light mist was falling. I hadn't seen anyone following me or even staring, but the feeling was there all the same. I headed straight back for the locker room and shoved my bag into my locker. I'd brought clothes to wear home if I decided to take the bus back home or leave here for me to use at a later time. I shook out my ponytail, then pulled my hair back again, smoothing it down before heading back out.

  I exchanged polite smiles with a couple women who were heading back towards the locker room and then nodded at a guy walking from the speed bag over to the small sparring ring in the far corner. I knew them by sight, but hadn't ever talked to any of them. This wasn't the kind of gym where people went to make friends or hook up. There were almost a dozen others working out and I looked at each one. They were all regulars, people I'd seen before. No one was watching me.

&nbsp
; My shoulders relaxed and I rolled my neck, shook out my arms and legs. The closest open bag was between two large, muscular men, both with more ink than visible skin. They both spent a lot of time here, and neither one even looked at me as I stepped between them. It was odd, I thought. I was wearing a tank top and shorts, standing only a few feet from two men who were a lot bigger than me, and I felt better than I had running outside in pants and a hoodie.

  I flexed my fingers against the tape I'd put on them and bounced on my toes. After the first couple hits, the last of my nerves fell away and I let myself get into the rhythm of hitting and kicking. I could feel the movement of others around me, but no one bothered me.

  By the time I finished, both the guys had left and a woman had taking the bag on the right. She was even bigger than the guys had been, easily six two and had a set of massive shoulders that had originally made me think she was a man.

  She gave me a sideways glance, a half smile and then went back to beating the shit out of the bag. I was pretty confident in my ability to take on most guys, especially after I'd taken down that one asshole. This woman, however...let's just say I was glad she wasn't trying to come after me.

  I sighed as I walked back to the locker room. I was glad I'd decided to do this instead of a night on the couch. While not the same as sex, there was something to be said for the physical benefits of exercise. I was almost smiling as I stepped into the shower stall. As the water washed away the sweat, I closed my eyes and let myself not think about anything. It was nice.

  I dressed in the clothes I'd brought with me, but as I stepped out into the cool almost-spring night, I decided against the bus. I wasn't going to run or jog, but a walk seemed like a good way to end the night. My muscles were a bit sore and a walk was a good way to cool down.

  I'd gone only a block when that feeling came back. I shivered and looked around. It was dark now, the streets well-lit, but unable to completely dispel the shadows. Shadows that seemed to move even as I looked at them.

  I wasn't alone on the streets. It was the start of the weekend, and the first decent night we'd had, so there were plenty of CSU students out, mostly in groups, but I spotted a few here and there walking by themselves. I was willing to bet at least a couple of them were heading for the library. I'd spent my fair share of time in the library during college. Most people assumed by looking at me, or by knowing my sexual history, that I'd spent most of my years in college partying, but that hadn't been the case.

  A sound behind me made me jump and turn around, my body automatically shifting into my self-defense stance. A sheepish-looking kid was picking himself up from where he'd knocked over some garbage cans. He grinned at me and grabbed his skateboard, going a few more steps before hopping on it again.

  As he skated away, I began to laugh. I shook my head and walked on. I seriously needed to relax, and I was pretty sure that meant I needed to get back to work that paid. I could still do my whole online vigilante thing, but I couldn't keep inundating myself with it. I would end up driving myself crazy, thinking I was being followed, jumping at small noises. I'd lived in fear before and I wasn't going to do it anymore.

  I was almost home and thinking that maybe a hot bath and some ice cream would be the perfect way to head into the weekend. Maybe a good book. There were a couple I'd been meaning to read...

  Something slapped over my face and I gasped. A sickly sweet smell filled my nostrils and I felt someone grab me around the waist. I tried to fight back, but none of my limbs would obey. And then I realized that the lights weren't going out, but rather everything else was going dark.

  My final thought was...

  Chapter 23

  There were hands on me, touching me, hurting me. The smell of chloroform was thick and I coughed, gagged. I tried to remember what happened. I knew I'd been drugged. Mom usually used pills, either grinding them up and putting them in my food, or forcing me to swallow them. Sometimes she did it so I would relax, so I wouldn't fight. This was different though. She'd used chloroform.

  In nearly thirteen years, she'd only used it twice before, and both times had been at the request of the same client. He'd wanted me completely pliant. Fake sleeping didn't do it for him. I could pretend to sleep and not react, but there were always little twitches, things that were nearly impossible to prevent. Knocked out, however, I wasn't even aware of what was happening until I started to stir.

  Like now.

  He was panting in my ear, spit running down my cheek.

  I was on my stomach. I could feel the scratchy sheet on my face now.

  Could hear him talking, babbling, about how good I felt, how precious I was...

  Reality began to seep into my dreams, into my memories. Chloroform. I remembered that. The smell wasn't something a person was likely to forget. And I was tied down, but I was on my back, not my stomach. I tried focusing on the things that were different. Not that it made things less frightening because knowing I'd been kidnapped wasn't a good thing, but it did help not to have both my current situation and my memories in my head.

  There weren't hands on me, no hot breath or words in my ear. I didn't know where I was or if I was alone, but at least no one was touching me. I counted that among the only positive things about this situation. I went through the others. I wasn't naked, definitely a good thing. No one had done anything other than knock me out and tie me up, and when compared to everything else I'd been through, that actually wasn't too bad. Other than a slight headache, I wasn't in any pain. The restraints around my wrists weren't chafing yet, so I either hadn't been struggling very much or I hadn't been here very long. I was leaning towards something halfway between the two.

  Now that I'd assessed those things, it was time to focus on my surroundings, see if I could figure out who'd took me, where and why. The where was more important than the who or why, especially since I was pretty sure I already knew those two things. With Christophe out on bail, it was the explanation that made the most sense.

  My chest began to tighten and my heart started to race. I turned my thoughts away from what was happening and focused on trying to keep my breathing slow and lower my pulse. When I was sure I wasn't going to have a panic attack, I turned my attention back to my surroundings.

  The place was chilly. Not cold like I was in a basement or outside, more like what I'd felt the times I'd been in abandoned buildings. The sounds seemed to support that too. Creaking, a hint of wind even though I couldn't feel it. I could smell the damp; something musty too. I didn't know exactly where I was, but that at least gave me an idea of what to expect when I finally opened my eyes.

  I didn't want to do it. The irony of the girl who couldn't trust enough to close her eyes during sex now not wanting to open them for fear of what she'd see wasn't lost on me. It was that thought that brought me back to myself, reminded me that I wasn't that scared little girl anymore. I had survived that and I would survive this too.

  I opened my eyes. At first, all I saw was darkness and I blinked my eyes against it. After a few seconds, black turned to gray and I could see shapes and outlines. I looked around. I wasn't gagged, but I also wasn't stupid enough to yell. I supposed that was one good thing about having the past I did. I knew how to handle these things better than others might have. Well, once I got the initial panic out of the way.

  Screaming could attract someone to come rescue me, but it also could bring the kidnapper – Christophe, my mind insisted – and it could result in violence that could've been otherwise prevented. I wasn't going to give in to whatever this guy – Christophe – wanted, but I was going to save my strength and fight when it was time. So I kept my mouth shut and tried to gather as much information as I could.

  Which turned out to be not very much at all. I was on a bed, but I didn't see a bed frame. Other shapes could've been a dresser and some boxes, but I couldn't really tell more than that. Something, however, felt very familiar about the room. I looked up but couldn't make out the ceiling. There weren't any windows and I didn
't seen anything that made me think windows had been boarded up. Probably a basement then. I'd spent enough time in one to know the feel.

  A figure stirred in the shadows and I heard a creaking sound. Stairs, I thought. I strained to see more than a faint outline, anything that would either confirm or disprove my suspicions. The figure was tall and lean, but it didn't move with any real grace. In fact, there was a familiar slouching way he walked. Because it was a he, and a he I knew.

  He reached up and pulled a cord, turning on a light with a click. The dim bulb didn't flood the room with light, but it did offer enough for me to see the jet-black hair and dark chocolate brown eyes that I'd once considered pleasantly attractive. Now, they just sent my heart racing. I'd known Christophe had been the one who'd taken me, but knowing it and seeing him again were two totally different things.

  He smiled at me, a tender, soft smile that frightened me more than his anger would have. He was looking at me the same way he'd looked at me before, like I was going to be his prom date or something.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice quiet.

  I'd been so busy staring at him that I hadn't even noticed anything else about the room.

  Like the fact that it was my room. My old basement room from back when I'd lived with my mom. It wasn't the same room. I knew that. My old room was in Florida, if the house hadn't been torn down by now. And I knew I wasn't in Florida. For one thing, I hadn't been gone long enough. For another, it wasn't hot and humid, and even in March, it wouldn't be this cool in Florida.