“Don’t make a sound,” he’d warned through the door, as if she could have uttered a peep with the damn tape stuck over her mouth. “I’ll come get you after they leave.”
Once she was sure he was back upstairs, she’d managed to shift awkwardly over the rough concrete floor until her back was against the wall. It was dark and musty in the little closet but at least she was alone.
He’d returned for her after an hour or so, grinning as he told her how the three fat old cleaning ladies had freaked when they got to the top of the spiral stairs. “Their eyes were practically bugging out of their heads while they wiped down the cage and dusted the St. Andrew’s cross. Of course, they didn’t dare say a word. They did find their tongues when I gave them each a fifty-dollar tip. Muchas gracias, señor,” he parroted in falsetto.The next morning, Callie opened her eyes, pulled suddenly from a nightmare by her own small cry. Damon’s feet were nearly touching her face. She shifted closer to the edge of the mattress to get away, tugging lightly against the cuffs that bound her wrists and ankles.
Lifting her head, she managed to peek out from the sheet that covered her. Sunlight poured into the room. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d made it through another day in hell.
Soon he would wake and pull her up between his legs, forcing her to suck his morning erection. At least he was always quick first thing in the morning—never more than a couple of minutes.
At first, she’d only seen the change in her sleeping arrangements as going from the frying pan into the fire. But she’d come to understand that being upstairs and sleeping on an extremely comfortable mattress was a definite improvement.
Once he had fallen asleep, she would maneuver to the edge of the mattress and nuzzle her head against the tucked-in sheets until she loosened them, allowing in a bit of fresh air.
Yes, she had to endure his nightly sexual assaults, but after he’d drifted off, she was able to get a reasonably good night’s rest—essential so she could keep up her strength. She had to keep sight of her overriding goal of escape.
With each new diabolical torture or sex game Damon devised, she did her best to obey him to the letter. She strived to project the image of a broken, docile slave girl. But inside, she only became more determined with each passing day to find a way out.
The gun lockbox remained on the night table shelf, silently beckoning her. She was nearly certain that the chain around his neck held the key. So far, he had yet to remove it, even while showering. Somehow, she had to get hold of those keys.
She stiffened now as Damon stirred and yawned noisily. But, to her surprise, instead of reaching for her and pulling her up to suck his cock per his usual M.O., he threw back the covers and sat up.
“Good morning, slave,” he said, grinning sleepily at her.
“Good morning, Sir,” she replied in a timid voice.
“This morning, we’re going to do something fun.”
Somehow, she sincerely doubted that, but she kept her thoughts firmly to herself, her eyes downcast.
“I’m taking you outside to the pool before breakfast. I’ve always thought it would be hot to have a girl give me an underwater blow job. Think you’re up to the challenge?”
Direct question.
“I’ll do my best, Sir,” Callie replied softly, though the prospect filled her with dread.
After allowing her to briefly wash up and brush her teeth, he took her out the bedroom sliding doors that led directly to the pool. The air was damp and still cool, the sun barely over the horizon. She glanced around quickly, trying to take in every detail of her surroundings.
The pool area and beautifully landscaped yard beyond were completely surrounded by a high wall of white-washed brick, much of it covered in spectacularly flowering magenta bougainvillea. She could see nothing beyond it but the perfect robin’s egg blue of the sky overhead.
Still, it was wonderful to be outside. The warm sun felt good on her skin. She drew in a deep breath of the fresh, moist air, which carried a hint of the salty tang of the ocean just beyond her beautiful prison.
She listened for sounds beyond the walls. She heard nothing but the distant break of the waves against the shore. Would anyone hear her if she yelled?
She didn’t dare, of course. Not with Damon right beside her, his hand clamped hard on the back of her neck. The fact he hadn’t bothered to put anything on, nor allowed her to do so, confirmed her suspicion that no one could see them.
His hand still on her neck, he guided her down the wide, smooth steps that led into the shallow end of the pool. The sunlight created glints of gold in his thick, glossy hair, which fell rakishly over his forehead and curled at the nape of his neck. His deep blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. His jaw was chiseled, his biceps bulging, his chest smooth and tan. How could such pure evil come in that beautiful package?