I actually breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the door to the yard. It was less conspicuous than going out the front door. It wasn’t uncommon for some of the patrons to take the slaves out in the yard to make them defecate on the lawn. Where that got fun, I had no idea, but then again, one might say my fetishes wandered outside the realm of normal, too.
Once outside, I was pleased to find there was no one else around. I led her around the yard to the garage, used my key to get in, and then hurried her over to my car. I opened the trunk and then helped her to her feet. She looked at the open trunk warily.
“No one can see me leaving with you. Once we’re past the guards, I’ll let you out.”
She nodded and even went climbing in, but the movement tugged on the chains between her clamps. She froze and squealed in response, making my cock jerk in my pants.
I leaned down to release the clamp on her clit and couldn’t help but watch the expression on her face as blood rushed back into the sensitive nub all at once. And I also couldn’t resist the urge to rub her, just for a minute, just until her hips started to writhe and a tiny moan escaped her lips.
I released her then and helped her to climb in the trunk, though I left the nipple clamps on her—because that was just the kind of twisted man I was. Besides, they looked so fucking sexy on her. What guy would have been quick to take them off?
I closed the trunk after one last look and then slid behind the wheel. I made it past the guards without a hitch and drove for a few miles just to be safe. When I pulled over on the side of the road and opened the trunk to let her out, I’d expected to find she’d taken the clamps off on her own.
She hadn’t.
I swallowed hard and helped her out. I took the clamps off then, but as I released one and then the other, I sucked her nipple into my mouth, feeling the arousal coursing through her body in response to both sensations.
As tempted as I was to linger, we were nowhere near out of the woods yet. I grabbed the spare shirt I kept in the trunk and handed it to her. She clasped it awkwardly but made no move to put it on. I’d kept her naked for so long, apparently, she didn’t quite believe I was telling her to cover up now. It really was a shame to cover up that body—and if we ended up getting pulled over, no doubt that body could get us out of any speeding ticket. Still, I didn’t relish the idea of sharing it—even the sight of her sexy curves—with anyone.
So, I took the shirt from her and held it out, nodding for her to slip her arms into the sleeves. She remained still while I fastened the buttons. I was already anxiously awaiting the moment I could rip the shirt off her.
But then it hit me. There was no moment. If I went through with my plan—which I had every intention of doing—the glimpse I’d gotten of her before I’d buttoned up the shirt was the last glimpse I was going to get. When we got where we were going, I’d be leaving her there. Alone. And I wasn’t going to see her, or her hot body, ever again.
Damn, I really didn’t care for the strange way the thought made my chest ache and my eyes sting. It was unfamiliar and unwelcome.
And I had a job to do. That’s what this was now. Not the job I was used to, but a job nonetheless. I was going to make sure she was safe. It was all that mattered. Somehow, at some point, making sure no one could ever hurt her again—the way both her father and I had—it became the most important thing in the world. All I had to do was get her to where we were going and leave her there. Just walk away. It was easy.
So why the hell did it feel like the hardest thing I’d ever done?
8
Scarlett
We drove for several hours—four hours, which I could tell because there was a clock. A real clock. The first one I’d seen since he’d taken me. But I had no idea where we were going, or how much longer it would be before we got there.
Derek had been quiet the whole time. And I hadn’t tried to engage him in conversation. What was I supposed to say? So much had happened since he’d walked into my prison and found that man whipping me. That man…my father. My real father. And now he was dead. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about that.