CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Becca
I’ve been turned into an actual prisoner. Before my ill-fated escape, I’d been allowed to wander the property freely as Dominic believed there was no actual way to get off the island. But now, my captor keeps tabs on me all the time. He sleeps in my bed each night, wrapping his warm bulk around me, surrounding me with his masculine presence, and then spends most of each day with me as well.
We begin each morning with sex, sometimes sweet and sensual, sometimes hard, hot and uncompromising. I know it sounds crazy because I’m a prisoner here, and believe me, the first time we had sex after my escape, I was shocked too.
Shivering and cold, still recovering from my near-death experience, Dominic had stormed into my room, tearing the coverlet off the bed and basically raping me. He’d been driven by pure fury, his fingers and cock penetrating me mercilessly, but I’d melted under his touch, unable to prevent my body’s traitorous response.
I’d fallen asleep immediately after that first time, too exhausted to protest and woken at the first grey light of dawn, a hardness pressed against my ass, an unmistakable big hand circling my belly. Without saying a word, he’d run his hands through my sweet folds, prepping me for entry before pushing his cockhead against me, my cleft eagerly parting for his penetration.
And god, he felt so good, my ruthless tormentor. He was unbelievably hard, his girth almost too wide, too long, but my body stretched and welcomed him, welcomed that driving force, finding my sweet release as he overtook me. The penetration was absolute and I could feel myself diving into the seas of lust, a riptide rising from my cunny to make me scream with each thrust of his penis.
And it’s become part of our daily routine. He spends every night in my bed to ensure I can’t escape again, and then wakes me each morning with soft caresses, taking me with his body even if he says nothing. Invariably, he comes hard, growling as his body shoots liters of sperm into my womb, spraying my ovaries with virile, milky semen. And then he rolls off, headed to the shower as I lay gasping in bed, recovering after another mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm.
We meet for breakfast in the dining nook, and Dominic reads the paper as we drink our coffee. I wouldn’t say it’s companionable, but we’ve settled into a silence which while thick with meaning, at least isn’t oppressive.
And then the work day begins. Dominic’s an international best-selling author and I’m his assistant, secretary and editor. His work is magnificent. This is his twentieth book in a blockbuster series, and it’s going to take the world by storm. We often engage in some light verbal sparring, but it’s never antagonistic. Instead, I derive a secret pride in knowing that an esteemed author wants my opinion and respects what I have to say.
After working until six or so, we break, and it’s my only time away from him. We wash up to get ready for dinner, and I often find myself in the kitchen, helping Nana prepare food. At first, the Afro-Caribbean housekeeper was afraid to talk to me, having been warned off by her employer, but after a couple weeks, she’d warmed up again, sure that Mr. Dominic wasn’t going to fire her for socializing with me a bit. It’s one of the highlights of my day. I love Nana and her husband Oscar, and am grateful for their kindness and wisdom.
“Mister Dominic, he a good Master,” said Nana in her lilting Caribbean accent. “I known him twenty years now!” she exclaimed.
I was curious. Twenty years was a long time to observe a person, and the good word of a trusted servant was a valuable recommendation.
“Tell me, Nana,” I said softly. “What was Dominic like when he was young?”
“He da hardest worker round!” she laughed. “When he done arrive at da island, me husband and me take one look at him and say, twenty pounds needed. He work so hard, he barely eat, barely sleep, barely do no nuthin but write. But it done! We feed him, we take care of him like our own son,” she confided.
I imagined it must have been peaceful at Koh-i-Noor when Dominic wasn’t touring the world on a book promotion. He lived in comfortable solitude here for a few months of every year to get away from the glitz and glamour of the international circuit, and plus it was just a beautiful place, the island’s quiet, peaceful surroundings perfect for writing uninterrupted.
But now I was here, disturbing everything.
“I’m so sorry to make you do more work, Nana,” I said. “I know you’ve been terribly busy since we arrived.”
“No, it ain’t no trouble Missy!” she smiled. “We love Dominic to have a good woman, he never brought anyone here before and we see how much you care for each other,” she said. “Even if you on da outs, Dominic care for you, mind my words.”
I sighed. If only Nana knew the twisted circumstances of my capture. Of course he cared for me, the same way a jailer cares about the prisoners under his watch. But I didn’t correct her and just kept rolling the dough.
“I care about him too,” I said quietly to the pie I was making.
But Nana’s sharp ears had caught the words. “And Mister Dominic, he love you tho he don’t show it,” she assured me. Tears welled in my eyes because I knew love was the furthest thing from his mind.