Sienna
Am I sure that Nate has changed?
Even after all this time, I’m his prisoner. I’m a plaything, a prize. He’s just using me for his own pleasure.
And I let him. I thought that he’d at least let me go to my dad’s funeral. But I’m nothing but a captive to him.
This penthouse is beautiful, but I’m not at liberty to go.
It kills me how much I still feel for him—even though I’m his hostage. He brings out another side to me, makes me feel emotions that I never thought possible. Nate was my first love, my first fuck…
I can no longer look at him without thinking about his hands on my body, playing with my breasts, pinching my nipples, teasing my clit.
Every time our eyes meet, I’m reminded of his throbbing cock filling me up, and all the bliss he’s drawn from my body.
Nate knows my body better than anyone, and I thought that he understood me too.
How can he, when he won’t even let me leave to grab a coffee or go to a funeral?
But now he’s taking me somewhere else. I feel the energy start to course through my body as he leaves me to get dressed and ready. My heart is pounding in my chest at the thought of leaving the penthouse.
A way out.
I run another bath—simple, this time. Once the tub fills, I sink beneath the water.
I wish I could be Nate’s.
Under any other circumstances, I would be his without hesitation. I’d let him dominate me, make me beg for his love.
I’d want him to do anything—everything—he could imagine to me.
But we’re not under any other circumstances.
His boss killed my dad and destroyed my life. Now, Nate won’t let me put the pieces back together. How can I begin to move on if I’m not even allowed to move?
The question weighs heavily in the back of my mind, even once I’m out of the tub.
As I dress, I wonder where Nate is taking me.
Is there anywhere else in New York left to go? What kind of place requires a woman to dress simply?
I flick through the dresses and clothes hanging in the wardrobe, annoyed by the amount of color that can be found there.
He told me to wear black, as though I wasn’t going to be wearing it anyway.
I find a black Chanel dress towards the end of the wardrobe. I slip it on with some black stockings that I clip into the suspender belt.
I wonder what Nate would think if he could see me in this lingerie, whether he would be able to control himself.
Nate gets so primal when he lusts for me. Like I’m the only woman in the world, and he needs to have me. He treats me like I’m his world.
I love it.
I love him.
But he won’t know about the suspender belt. My dress isn’t nearly short enough to show it off to him ‘accidentally,’ and I’m not sure I’d want to. Nate’s taking me out into the world, and I want to make the most of it.
From the floor to ceiling shelves, I pull on a pair of black patent leather kitten heels. If another opportunity to escape presents itself, at least I’ll be able to run in these.
Once dressed, and holding a Gucci bag, I walk back out into the lounge.
Nate is waiting, dressed in an expensive all-black suit that hugs his frame. The crisp material accentuates each of his muscles. So it accentuates all of him, every line, every bulge.
He turns to look at me and nods, silently approving of my outfit choice.
“Let’s go,” he says, and strides forward to take me by the arm and lead me towards the elevator.
I pull my forearm away from his grip.
“I can walk by myself.”
Nate doesn’t argue further, and we descend into the parking garage in palpable silence.
My heels click against the concrete and tarmac of the garage, echoing in the still air. Nate removes the keys from his pockets, and as he presses the unlock button, a black Porsche 911 beeps to life.
Nate told me to wear something simple, and yet he chose one of the flashiest cars in the garage. Even the limo might have been more inconspicuous.
Nate slams his foot on the accelerator, and we tear out of the parking garage and into the city. My hand subconsciously grips onto the door, holding myself in place as Nate weaves through the traffic with ease. Cars and landmarks pass us by in mere moments, though I thought at this time of day the roads would be gridlocked.
But it seems every traffic light turns green just in time for our arrival.
We make our way out of the city, and my heart begins to pound in my chest.
Where is Nate taking me?
I crane my neck to look out of the tinted windows. I begin to recognize the landmarks that I picked out when we first touched down in New York. My grip around the door tightens.
In my head, I will Nate to drive faster. His foot presses down on the accelerator.
He’s taking me to the airport.
The airport appears over the horizon, and I can’t believe my eyes.
Where are we going?
In the back of my mind, I hope he’s taking me home.
Home at last.
But I silence that voice. I don’t think I’d be able to stand the disappointment if I’m wrong.
So my mind turns to other possibilities.
Does Nate own another glamorous penthouse that he intends to lock me in? Will he take me to someone else’s house, somewhere that his boss would never think to look? How much farther from LA are we going to go?
The Porsche drives into the airport, speeding down the runway until it stops just short of Nate’s private jet.
I get out, and my knees are weak.
I can hardly walk to the jet.
Nate comes up behind me, placing his hand at the small of my back. He pushes me gently, nudging me towards the plane. A part of me wants to tell him I can walk there myself—but we both know that I can’t.
The heat of his body behind me is oddly calming, and I’m momentarily grateful for his presence. He can sense my trepidation, my excitement.
Nate knows exactly what to do to help calm the whirlwind of emotions happening in my chest right now.
I climb the familiar stairs, into the wood-panelled interior. He leads me towards the same leather chair that I sat in when I was taken to New York before.
Energy runs through me. I’m restless as Nate fastens my seatbelt. Then, he walks into the cockpit to talk to the pilot.
Nate comes back a few minutes later and sits down in the chair opposite me. The plane begins to move beneath us. Once we take flight, I work up the courage to speak.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out when we get there,” Nate says, shrugging me off.
He unclicks his seatbelt and stands, walking through the cabin towards the bar.
“You can’t keep doing this to me, Nate. You can’t keep me in the dark.”
“You ask too many questions, Sienna,” he says, pausing. “I’m trying to keep you safe. Everything I do, I do for you.”
I sigh and turn my head away. Clouds pass beyond the window, and I watch them. Nate spends almost the entire flight on his phone, speaking in hushed voices. He’s going over the details of some plan or another.
Every so often, he checks in. I do my best to smile and tell him I’m all right. But really, I’m screaming on the inside, desperate to know our destination.
As the plane begins its descent, I begin to realize just where Nate’s taking me.
I can’t believe it.
We’re in LA.