MARIGOLD
“Oh God,” I whimper as I spring from the bed as reality comes flooding back to me. What the heck was I thinking? Of course I end up colliding with his big chest as I try to get to my clothes. His arms wrap around my naked form, catching me before I can fall. I wince when the cut on my knee burns.
“You need to be careful.” His arms tighten. I swear I saw a flash of real concern on his face, but it’s gone as quickly as I thought I saw it.
“I didn’t mean to throw myself at you.”
His erection is now pressed against my stomach. I take a deep breath, realizing how big he really is. He’d split me in two, and the last thing we need is two of me! Yeah, he’s right. I need to be more careful. If I keep throwing my naked body against him, I’m going to end up pinned to the bed under him.
“Your knee,” he grumbles, breaking me from the thoughts of his body coming down over mine. I need to snap out of it. This man has me doing and thinking things that I shouldn’t. He’s a kidnapper that made me strip naked. You loved every second of it. My vagina betrays me and begins throbbing at the reminder.
“Oh, I thought you meant I should be careful of you pinning me on the bed and …” I trail off.
He takes a deep breath, I’m guessing to try to calm himself down. “That too,” he grits out.
Another knock sounds at the door.
“Mr. Harbin?” the woman calls from the other side of the door.
“Help!” I scream again just in case she’s had a change of heart and has decided to help me. “He’s torturing me!”
“Torturing you? Is that what you call me offering to make you come, Goldie? I think it’s me that’s being tortured here.” He releases his hold on me. First it was my knee and then it was whatever magic he used on me when he got me naked. I’d wanted his mouth on me. It had been so close but so far away. My whole body started to throb. My hips had moved on their own accord, as if they knew the pleasure he was offering. “Now put your clothes back on.”
“Stop bossing me around.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’ll put them on when I feel like it.” I stand there, not moving. What is wrong with me? I should be getting dressed as quickly as possible, but for some reason, I’m standing here arguing with this man.
“Are you so rebellious about being told what to do because your father is a cop?” The man works quickly in all ways. I can’t believe how much info he was already able to pull on me. But I guess when you have the kind of money these people do that nothing really stands in your way.
“What? Are you my therapist now?” I rush around him to find my panties first and then my bra and hoodie. He watches me the whole time. Even as I wiggle back into my torn yoga pants, my panties stick against my wet sex. I’m soaked down there. I’ve sprung a leak or something. This can’t be normal. Is this what happens to you when you go too long without giving it up? You have all this pent-up need and you’re willing to go at it with anyone? Not that I would know too much about that.
Okay, maybe not anyone. I’ve been asked out here and there. Dr. Alter asked me on a date a few times. He’s a vet at the shelter. I should have been falling all over that but nope. Not one lick of desire.
“You have a therapist?”
“Had,” I say dryly.
One that my father pushed on me. He was a very strange man that went to my father’s church. He had a knack for always telling me that I was sinful and should do as my father told me. My father’s an asshole. Why would I do anything he told me to?
“And what did they say?”
“That I’m dramatic.” The same thing he’d called me.
What I should have been told is that I clearly have daddy issues and my body is rebelling. I don’t mean the stealing thing, either. No, it's way deeper than that. I’m clearly into bad men. Ones that are willing to kidnap me. I couldn’t even hide that fact. He’d seen it for himself between my wet thighs.
“Should I leave this?” the woman calls from the other side of the door. Her voice sounds more concerned.
“No!” I shout. I have to get away from this man. Then what, though? I won’t have what I was supposed to come back with. What will Mr. Hoover do if I return empty handed?
“Mrs. Lou is not going to help you,” he says as if that is going to stop me from trying. He walks to the door, opening it for her. She rolls in a cart filled with yummy-smelling food.
“I’ve been kidnapped,” I inform her again as I draw closer to the food cart and snatch a scallop off one of the plates. A small moan leaves me when the taste hits my mouth.
“It tastes better than prison food, I’m sure.” He smirks.
“Well, you’ll soon know, won’t you? Kidnapping is definitely a felony,” I retort.
The woman–I think I heard him call her Mrs. Lou–grins at the two of us. “Is there anything else you might need?” she asks.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to call the police, but my kidnapper is right. This is better than prison. At least Hoover can’t get me if I’m here. Who knows how long this handsome kidnapper will keep me? I guess it will be for however long ‘a while’ means that my kidnapper keeps saying he’s keeping me for.