Trapping Her

“It was a long time ago, sweets, and the men who killed her are all dead and forgotten,” he tells me.

Without thinking, I step toward him and wrap my arms around his waist. He’s saying it was a long time ago, but he doesn’t seem to be much older than I am at twenty-three.

His hand trails down my back and then he tugs on the end of my long braid, forcing me to look at him. “Do not cry for me.”

“Okay,” I agree stupidly as more tears fall.

With a shake of his head, he places his lips against mine and kisses me. The same feelings as last night rush over me and I kiss him back, soaking in everything about the moment. He begins to walk us backward, and then before I can prepare myself, I’m scooped up into his embrace.

I let out a small yelp of surprise then moan, as he trails his mouth to my ear and hisses, “Tell me I can have you. Tell me you want me, Isabel.”

Like I’m someone else, like someone else has taken over my body I whimper “Yes,” and he carries me into a room that is not my own. The bed is large enough for five people, and the furniture and art is just as dark as the owner. He lays me on the bed, and I gasp as he rips my top over my head and quickly removes my bra. When his fingers undo my jeans and pull, I don’t hesitate to lift my hips.

Lying naked before him, with him still clothed in a dress shirt and slacks, I feel suddenly exposed and shy. I start to cover myself, but stop when he demands, “Don’t.” His voice softens. “Do not ever hide from me.”

I lower my hands and watch as he stands back to undress. Completely naked, I scan his muscular, scarred torso as he climbs onto the bed. He spreads my knees, sweeping his gaze over every inch of me. “Beautiful, little one. You’re beautiful. Perfect for me in every way.”

My mind whirls with memories as he lowers his head to capture one nipple. I expect to feel pain then pleasure but am surprised when he releases my breast to skim his lips down my stomach. My fingers grip his hair and my head digs back into the pillows as he spreads me open and licks me, pulling my clit into his mouth. The suction, the smell of him, the feel of his hand holding me open, causes me to crumble to dust. I come on a scream, thrashing my head.

When his mouth leaves me and his weight settles over my body, I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him as close as possible. “Look at me, love.” I force my eyes open and look into his. “It’s going to be okay.” With that odd statement, he thrusts inside me with a long, brutal stroke.

I whimper in surprise when he breaks through my innocents then dig my fingers into his back as he stills.

“Mine, only mine,” he snarls.

“Yes, but don’t stop.” I lift my head and he lowers his mouth to mine. The kiss is just as claiming as his hips thrusting into mine. I’ve never thought of being owned, but with every kiss, every stroke, I know. I know that something bigger than me brought me to him and I’m meant to be his.

I ride out the waves of ecstasy and come on a cry when Cameron thrusts one last time deep inside me. As his heavy weight rests against my chest and his heartbeat pounds against mine, I wonder what this all means. Wonder how it’s possible to feel the things I feel for a man I don’t even know.

4

Isabel

Fingers trailing lightly down the side of my face wake me from a dreamless sleep. I slowly blink my eyes open and smile softly when I see Cameron with his elbow in the bed and his head in his hand, his eyes on me.

“How is it possible that you’re just as beautiful sleeping as you are awake?” he asks, and I touch my blonde hair, sure it’s a mess, and find my braid undone and my hair down around my shoulders. “I released your braid while you slept. Your hair is long.” He runs his fingers through it then looks at me. “It looks like golden silk, almost the same shade as your eyes. I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as yours before.”

My hair is golden-blonde, the same with my eyes, a trait neither one of my parents have. Both have almost black hair, similar to his, almost like the woman I saw in my mind last night when we kissed. His fingers trail the side of my face to the tops of my breasts, and my cheeks get warm. “I should get up. I need to work,” I say, not actually wanting to get up at all. Really, I wouldn’t mind staying right here for the rest of my life.