Leah
It worked last time. I asked someone if I could use their phone, and then I could call Inspector Willoughby and give him the information I'd memorized. Every waking moment, I'd made myself memorize the notes on the other paintings I'd found in Jacob's collection. I'd made myself remember the inspector's phone number. I spent so much of the day repeating those numbers in my head; I thought I was going to dream about them.
But every night, I dreamt about Jacob. Strange things, odd things, and things that made me wake up in a cold sweat and, if he was there, made me curl up to him. I even felt guilty that I'd given him a blowjob and swirled the number into his cock. I'd pressed my head deeper on his cock and swallowed afterward, sucking his cock with every last drop of energy, and it was like I have to get the evil I've done off of him.
How screwed up is that? He owns me. I am trying to get away from him. And now I'm making myself feel guilty for that. I want to scream. I fuck him during the day and try to remember those numbers, but it’s what was happening every night that makes me so relentlessly unsatisfied and fills me with such a deep yearning. I need some relief. I thought so much stress would be off me when I was able to make this phone call, but I haven't been able to make this phone call because everyone in the bathroom today was in a hurry or said their phones were dead as well.
I only had another minute or two before Tatiana suspected something.
And then she walks into the bathroom, slipping into a stall.
Shit.
"Here you go," a smiling woman with the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen says to me. I know I should say something about how I don't need it now and tell her never mind or something, but I'm too afraid now that if I don't take the chance, I'll be screwed. "Just one second then, thank you so much," I say, sliding into the stall and hoping that the inspector answers right away, I say what I need to, and that is that.
But the phone keeps ringing.
I start to get afraid that I got the number wrong. I'm watching the ground, I need Tatiana's shoes to still be in her stall before while I give this woman her phone back, or I'm totally fucked. I start to see her leave and I hang up, shoving the phone back into the nice girl's hand sort of rudely. I smile at her, knowing I must seem crazy. "Thanks so much!" I mutter, and I step out of the bathroom. Tatiana will know that I’m right outside. I just needed to get out of there that second before I exploded with nerves.
I head back to the house that day, and I'm grateful for just a second to see that Jacob is on his way out, but then I'm blaming my nerves on the slight disappointment I felt. I'm supposed to be getting out and building a life for myself. Not sitting around wishing that I was going to be having some all-night orgasm fest with the man I'm trying to escape. Still, when he presses a soulful kiss to my lips, his whole body capturing mine, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull back until he pins me against the wall. I tell myself that I'm pressing my body into his so urgently because I'm playing a role. But aching for him and wishing the kiss would never end, I can't blame that on nerves. Maybe I can blame it on the recurring dreams where I want to fuck Jacob, but I don't. We're two people in separate lives, and he wants nothing to do with me.
Is this my shitty fear? That I can't have my own life? Is it because I think that I'll never feel the way I do for someone who doesn't buy me? Because I think Jacob wouldn't give a shit about me if he hadn't bought me? I don't want to dwell on any of these thoughts. I just need to steel myself for the gathering of more evidence while he was gone. I don't think I'll be watched in his home, and today I could dig up something more. Too bad that I can't make a call.
I'm holding him tight against me. He drops his briefcase so that both his hands can prowl against me, and I can't kid myself that I'm playing some role when I let him spread my legs with his knee. I try to breathe when he unzips his slacks, and I turn around and pull up my dress, and I'm about to yank down my panties, but I feel him behind me doing just that. Holding me up against the wall, he slides into me.
"You're so wet for me, baby girl. I don't want to leave you either." Jacob whispers into my ear. His words are like my weakness at this moment that destroys me. I tell myself this means that I have to fight harder than ever to get away from him. Jacob Renaud has consumed every inch of me and made me his. I can't have that. "I crave you," he growls against my skin, licking my neck and then biting into me just a little too hard. I yelp, my pussy squeezing his thick cock spearing me so well. I'm moaning loudly, saying his name over and over again. It sounds so fucking good, tastes good on my lips. I want to say his name forever because I can feel how hard he thrusts into me each time that I do. I'm fucking desperate to satisfy him in this way. He feeds off every moment I want him, and I feed off of that. It is twisted as hell, but it makes me feel needed. Wanted. Desired. Loved, almost. But he can't love me.
Or maybe he does. But I can't love him. I just can't.
Not after everything I've worked for. If I love him, how can I do these things?
I'm in enemy territory. I have been this whole time. I can't give into what he does to my body and let it overtake my mind.
I have to hold onto my soul because I want to believe that I can have a life where I don't belong to anyone.
And maybe I can.
But when his fingers wrap around my throat, my heart thunders in my chest, and I don't know if I want to have a life where I don't belong to him. He's poisoned me, infected me, seeped into my very being. I crave him, too. I want to tell him now, just to feel his response. If I told Jacob Renaud that I loved him, what would that mean? I get the feeling that I have no damn idea exactly what that would mean and I'm fucking dying to know.
How can I be plotting to trap him in prison forever so he can never touch me again, and literally panting in ecstasy, coming and praying that he never stops touching me?
He's leaving tonight. I have a job to do. I come down from the incredible high of our orgasm. He drops to his knees, kissing my ass cheek before giving it a slap that makes me bounce, and then pulls my panties up. He turns me around, kissing me again, and it feels like we could start this whole thing over again. The way he kisses me melts me, overtakes my soul, drowns me in emotions that seem to be able to shatter everything inside me. He tastes safe. He tastes like home. I don't want him to mean any of those things to me. He just can't. I must just not know what real safety feels like. I have to get that for myself. I'm the one who holds me prisoner if I let these feelings take hold within me.
Jacob straightens his clothes, picks up his briefcase, and heads for the door. I tell myself not to watch, but when I turn around, I see that he's looked back as well. For some reason, I look down demurely, as if he didn't just fuck the living goddamn daylights out of me. He walks back to me, his hand cupping my face roughly, but kisses me so tenderly it is almost sad. It is sad. He's clearly sad that he’s leaving.
I'm sad he's leaving, too.
When he's gone, I sit down and tell myself that any minute, I am going to get up. That's when I hear a knocking at the door. I'm so confused. I go to the door, and I know who it is, this man in the suit before he even speaks.
"I've been camped out, waiting for that bastard to leave. I'm not sure how much time we have, but I need to know, can you tell me what he has?"
"Inspector Willoughby, what in the fuck are you doing here? Do you know how dangerous this is? What if someone saw you?"
"I was camped out for a while, I wasn't followed, and I'll be gone in a moment. Tell me what you know."
"Okay," I stutter out. I take a moment to compose my memory, and I reel off all the paintings that I saw when Jacob had me touring his vaulted collection. It wasn't easy for me to deceive Jacob like that, and I told myself that's because lying terrifies me. But I know I'm feeling guilty, even when I shouldn't. I'm working to get away. His feelings are the last thing I should care about. But I do. I just want to be far way so that I can't think about any of this, or be around this anymore.
"Leave," I say solemnly.
The inspector looks at me, and he gets wide eyed for a second. He nods and says, "I'll get you out of here soon."
I guess I should believe him. I shut the door, hoping Tatiana heard nothing, and I head up to the master bedroom. Am I going to get out of here soon? Why aren't I excited? Or even scared? Why do I now just feel numb?