I saw a light first. It was like one of those old-timey flashbulbs from a camera blinking rapidly before a huge bright spark lit up the room and enveloped everything in it. And then came the pain. Searing, hot, quick. It lingers on my skin as I try to recover.
But before I can, Abe hits me again. At least, I am pretty sure it’s Abe. That white blinding light has literally crippled me. I can’t see a foot in front of me out of my left eye. And my right is taking the beating in its place. But I can make out Abe’s feet. They are still wet despite being under those blankets for nearly an hour. And now, they are covered in little red raindrops of blood that are still falling from the wound on his head.
My mind tries to keep up with myself. You should have killed him, Sierra. You knew that he wouldn’t stay under long enough for Tank to come find you. You should have taken him out with the shards of the glass or at least hit him harder. This is all your fault.
Abe steps back, away from my limited view. I shake my head furiously, as I try to come to. Something’s changed. In the distance, over the sound of my ears ringing, I can hear bursts of yelling and the sounds of firecrackers … or gunshots. It’s sharp and piercing and with each pop, there’s another scream.
The bathroom Abe has charged into is completely empty now—except for my tired, beaten body up against the wall. With my good eye, I peer outside the broken wood door and past the blood stained carpet. My head sticks tentatively out, trying to make out what happened to my captor. He’s completely vanished. His bloody footprints lead from the door back to a small window just outside the hallway. That bastard made his escape.
Someone’s calling his name, screaming it. His men, I’m sure, are looking for him to protect him. He’s the king in this chess game, and everyone else is his pawn. If they can’t find him, they’re going down as well. And when they find me here with his blood splattered everywhere, I’m not going to have much time to convince them to let me live. I’ve got to follow Abe’s lead and make a run for it.
I place my hands against the cold bathroom tiles behind me and slowly move them up until my upper body follows. My hips, tired and probably broken, lean and sway as they try to get the legs to work for them. Every part of me hobbles out of the bathroom, past the ornate bed set, and towards the door.
I walk out gingerly, my feet leading the way followed by my legs and chest. The sounds of screams are dying down, though everything seems muffled and watery to me. When I finally get the courage to put my entire body outside, I realize that I’ve got nowhere to run. Outside, past the window, Abe waits for me. His men are everywhere, and by the blurry shapes I can see, two are coming at me, screaming with their guns raised in their hands.
My only choice is to run. I don’t know how, but my body manages to sprint towards the other end of the hallway and towards another door. My hands jiggle at the lock, but it doesn’t budge. I try the door closest to it, and it flings open. A small, unlit staircase leads me down to an empty, damp basement. The cold cement floor hits my feet first, as I try to feel my way to another escape option. Down here, I’m trapped—a sitting target for the two men chasing me.
But a moment passes and no one comes for me. Above my head, there is so much chaos and screaming that I can’t quite put it all together. I push myself further into the darkness of the basement till I find a side room with a lock on the door handle. I retreat inside and find a closet with a small lightbulb. The light flashes on, just barely filling up the room. And while I don’t want to give myself away, I can’t stand to meet my end in the complete darkness of a dungeon.
The room I’m in is another bedroom with black bedding and simple furniture. By the looks of it, it probably belonged to someone who worked in the house, as it’s practically empty save for the bedside table with a book resting on the top and a few black suits hanging next to me in the closet.
Okay, Sierra, I tell myself. You have to think of a plan. You have to get yourself out of here. You have no idea if Tank is here, on his way, or … dead. This is all on you, but you can’t stay here. This place is dea—
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of booming footsteps on the stairwell where I just came down. I run straight for the closet, pulling it shut. My panicked hands cause it to creak and shudder as it slams together. I make myself into a small ball in the corner and pull down one of the suits to pull over myself. Everything goes dark again as I try my best to listen to what is going on just outside the door.
The man walking outside is screaming for Abe. His voice sounds urgent but also as if he’s hunting. It grows closer, as he calls out again just mere feet from the bedroom door. I hear the slide of his shoes on the cement floor as it stops just in front of it. The metal handle turns and locks as he twists it again and again in frustration. “Abe!” He calls out again, as his breathing becomes labored and intense.
I jump as two loud pounds drive through the door. The wood flies all around, a piece hitting the closet door just inches from where I am hiding with my knees clutched to my chest. I try to stop the sound of my breath escaping me, but I’m too late. Through the slats in the closet door, I see the figure turn slowly towards my hiding place, a hand reaching out.
There’s light again. It’s that same kind of flashing, burning, all-encompassing light that envelops me. But this time, there is no pain or pressure. There’s no ringing in my ears or tears sticking to the bruises on my cheeks. There’s only Tank, and his arms wrapping around me as they place me down on the bed.
He lowers his large head down to me as he straddles my hips. His brown, curly hair flies in my face, but I can’t bear to bat them away. I can’t make out too many details, but I catch a small glimpse of a smile as he places a cool hand to my jaw and lifts my head delicately upwards towards his waiting lips. When they meet, every part of me fills with warmth.
He pulls away slowly, savoring me. My voice, hoarse and lost in the pain of my throat, manages to squeak out, “You came for me.”
“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Tank’s face changes as he studies me in the pale light of the closet. He stiffens as he says regretfully, “I should have come sooner. That fucker is going to pay for putting a hand on you. Do you know what happened to him? My guys found the footprints but nothing else.”
I lift a shaking finger up to his lips, trying to make him stop talking. My head pounds from the rumbling sounds of his enraged voice, “Shh,” I whisper, “I don’t want to talk about him. Right now all that matters is that you’re here with me.” I add tiredly, trying not to drift away from this near perfect moment, “Can you please touch my face again with your hands? They feel so good against my skin.”
I’ve always known Tank’s hands to be rough and calloused. Bikers hands are always beat up from the handlebars, the weather, and their work. However, there’s something different about Tank’s hands. As he touches the pulsating bruises on my cheeks and around my forehead, I don’t think about the cracking skin or the coarse bumps around his fingertips. Everything melts inside that gentle touch, everything feels whole again.
After a few strokes, my eyes feel less weighted down. My eyelashes begin to separate from the wounds around them, and my vision clears. As I blink rapidly, I catch his steely blue eyes gazing right back at me in amazement. I start to notice the weight of his body on mine, his chest pounding against my breasts, and his heavy jeans rubbing between my thighs.
I lift my hand up to his neck and touch the hairs around the base of his head before pulling him closer to me. He feels what I feel—the wanting, the needing. After Abe, I could never want anything but him, and in this moment, I had to have him.
I take the lead, my mouth finds his and pulls him back down towards the bed. He’s gentle, but I’m not. Even though every bone aches in my body, I want him to know that he can do this to me. I trust him. My hand rustles under the soft t-shirt he’s wearing and I get bold—scratching him down the length of his spine from mid-back to the dip in his hips. His lips part, as I feel him moan, and my mouth enters his with all the passion I can muster up.
As I massage at the lines of red marks I have created, I inch that shirt off of his muscular shoulders and arms. He breaks from my kisses just seconds to let the shirt go flying towards the ground. His bare chest and back are mine to explore, as I greedily feel at his tight, tense skin. I’ve never got to enjoy him like this, and being able to take him at my speed allows me to find new scars, new tattoos, and new muscles to ease my fingertips over.
My head leans back, and our lips part. His trace down the side of my mouth, to the round of my chin and to my neck. His stubble and the heat of his breath mingle around my neck and ears, sending goosebumps down my arms and shoulders. As I shiver, he stops and looks at me concerned, “Sierra, we don’t have to do this now. We can wait, if you want.”
I place a finger to his chin to lift his eyes level with mine. “No, Tank. I want this. I want you. Please?”
“Say that again.” It’s an order, one that causes his nostrils to flare and his eyes to darken.
“Please, Tank. Take me.” It’s less of a question this time.
Tank’s mouth returns back to my throat, this time pushing down harder and faster at my skin. He tastes every inch of my skin, every crevice from the back of my ears to the curve of my shoulders. As he lowers himself to my breasts, his hands move to the hem of my dress and begin to tug. The dress falls easily down me, revealing the scratches and marks along my chest from Abe and his henchmen.
He sees past those marks that probably will never fade, and only sees the girl he wants spread out for him to enjoy. He licks his lips, as he places his head in between my breasts and gently massages at the skin. They warm instantly to his touch though my nipples go instantly hard at being touched so intimately.
His tongue begins to lap at my skin, teasing the little bumps that have popped up. His mouth moves in a wave around the crest of my breast and up towards my nipple. I feel his lips part around the tip as he sucks it in lightly. The pressure pulls me back, and every part of me reacts. My head spins, my hips lift gently, and my bare toes curl into the covers. The heat from his mouth dances on my skin, as I grab at his hair for leverage, pushing him further into me.
As he plays with my breasts like a musician tuning their instrument, a hand skirts down to my bare thighs. I feel a finger brush against the curve of my pussy. Another one snaps at the elastics of my panties. A third finds its way to my back and pulls along the line of my thong. I let out the longest gasp of my life when finally I feel his thumb rest upon my sex, putting pressure on my pleasure spot.
His thumb works at me, parting my skin expertly even through the light fabric. He moves off of my chest and slowly moves his hands down my stomach and hips to where his hands have parted me. He takes the opening and presses a kiss to my throbbing cunt. Again and again, his mouth adds deliciously wet, foreign moisture to my sensitive skin as I struggle to keep up with him. My hands grab at everything around me from the pillows to the comforter and even the side of the bed.
And then comes the slippery, sweet tongue that glides across my folds. He laps at me like a Popsicle, tasting every hidden bit of me. That tongue pushes harder and harder down until it slips in between my pussy lips. His thumb remains at my g-spot, massaging gently enough so that everything opens up nicely for him to slide his way in like an expert spelunker.
The feel of his mouth exploring my innermost regions has me practically begging for him to be a part of me. I’m awash with the feeling of wanting—of needing—a pull of desire that pushes everything else away. And all I want to do is watch. Seeing his head bob up along my thighs and stomach isn’t enough for me. I press slowly to my bruised elbows, causing him to press even further into me.
Every bit of pain and suffering disappears for that moment. My stomach burns as my body begs for both more and mercy. My hands try not to grab at his body to push him away. And I arch in every angle possible just so I can feel the insanity of the buildup in me.
As his tongue circles and dangles inside of me, I give in to the release. I let the feeling rush out of me like an explosion. Every inch of my pussy burns and glows as the blood vibrates through my skin. And in that one exquisite moment, I feel as if I had been transported from this hell to a heaven designed just for the two of us.
Tank pulls slowly away from me, his hot breath panting at my pussy. As his eyes come up to meet mine, I place a hand around his moist neck and pull him in for a deep kiss. I can taste myself on his lips. Our tastes blend together perfectly.
And despite all of my pain and the terrible things I have had to endure, as he lets go of my embrace, I still manage to say the words I have been longing to say since he laid me down on this bed, “I love you, Tank.”