The Christmas Collection, page 11
Most people don’t want to believe they’ve done something wrong.
I’m fucked either way.
Hopelessness starts to settle over me by the time Jasper comes out of the store. It doesn’t help at all when I see the huge plastic bag full of stuff he bought.
He’s going to rape me, and then when he’s done, he’ll probably kill me. Sometime in the next week or so, they’ll find my body in the Dumpster of the farm supply store down the street.
Or, hell, Jasper’s experienced—maybe he’ll hide me somewhere better and they’ll never even find me.
Even if they do and he doesn’t get away with it, I won’t feel any better. I’ll be dead.
I don’t even look over at Jasper when he gets in the car. He shoves the bag into the backseat with all the others, but I don’t look. I don’t want to know what’s inside.
I’m silent as he drives us back to the motel. He uses a knife to cut my zip ties and then he climbs out. He didn’t tell me what he wanted me to do, so I sit there and rub my wrists until he comes over and opens the door for me.
“Come on out,” he says.
I shoot him a dirty look, but I don’t sass him. He’s clearly nuts, and I don’t want to provoke him to do anything more horrible to me than he is probably already planning to.
Once we’re inside the dated, dingy motel room, I squeeze into the tiny bathroom so I can finally pee. The space is so small I have to practically climb in the bathtub to close the door. I’m surprised Jasper even lets me, but before I get the flimsy door all the way shut, he slams a hand against it to stop it closing.
Startled, I jump. My wary gaze darts to his.
He holds out his hand expectantly. “Cell phone.”
I frown, but I dig it out of my purse and hand it to him. Don’t know why he wants the damn thing—it doesn’t work.
Once he has the phone, he moves out of the way so I can shut myself in the bathroom for a little privacy.
It doesn’t feel like privacy. The room is so small, it feels claustrophobic.
Panic claws at me from the inside. Even in relative safety with the insubstantial barrier of the door between us, all I can think about is the white plastic bag from the adult store. Jasper brought that bag inside and dropped it on the single, small bed in the room. As soon as he started taking things out of it, I felt so ill I remembered I needed to pee, and that’s how I ended up in the bathroom.
I’m terrified to find out what’s in that bag.
It gets harder to breathe when I think about it.
I need to get a grip. I need to figure this out. Surely there is a better way to handle this. Surely I don’t have to be murdered in this fleabag motel in the middle of Bumfuck, Wisconsin.
Nope, I’m not going out that way. I’m not.
I take a deep breath and let it out as I look in the mirror. There is a light in the bathroom, but it’s so dim, it might as well be a candle.
Once I feel like I can breathe without needing to vomit, I square my shoulders and wedge myself into a corner so I can open the door and slip out.
Jasper has taken his coat off and now he’s just standing there in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt.
Despite my reluctance to investigate the contents of the bag, I can’t help noticing a few things right away.
There’s a white box with a picture of a lady on the front wearing some kind of face harness with a ball in her mouth. There’s another larger white box, I can’t tell what’s in it but there’s a picture of a woman kneeling in front of a man with her hands together like she’s praying.
On the bed beside the boxes are two piles of lace. I walk closer and see that one pile is a black bra and panty set, and the second pile is a red lace thong with a matching top that covers a little more than a bra but would still leave my belly button exposed.
He bought me lingerie?
Glancing over and seeming to read my mind—or maybe just the confusion on my face—he explains, “Figured you might need a change of underwear since you didn’t have a chance to pack. They didn’t have a whole lot I thought you might like, but these seemed okay.”
I guess that was nice. Wouldn’t want to get murdered in dirty panties. How embarrassing.
“Thanks,” I murmur, picking up the red lace set and holding it up. Somehow it looks like there’s even less material now that I’m looking at it.
If he plans for me to need to change panties, he must not intend to kill me tonight. That’s good.
Given the pile of naughty items on the bed, I have to assume he plans to do something else, though. That’s less good.
“Do you want a shower?”
Jasper’s voice draws my focus back to him. The motel room is cold, so a nice hot shower would be great. “I’d love one.”
“Can I trust you to behave yourself, or do I need to come in there with you?”
“I’ll behave,” I promise.
“You only get one chance,” he tells me. “If you scream or try anything you know I wouldn’t like, you’re done. You won’t get another shot at privacy.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I’m not sure exactly how to make it out of this predicament alive, but I’m sure wisely picking my battles is a better method than making him actively dislike me.
Once I’m back in the bathroom, I strip off my clothes and pull back the shower curtain. I’m relieved to find the water pressure isn’t bad. I feel much better once I move under the hot spray.
That is, until the door opens. My heart does a somersault. “Jasper?”
“Yep. Just checking. Everything all right in here?”
I just started showering, what could have possibly gone wrong? “Everything is fine,” I assure him.
“All right.” The door closes again.
I pull back the curtain and peek to see if he’s still in here, but he’s gone.
That was a bit odd.
I don’t pay it anther thought, though. I have too much else to think about—like how I’m gonna get out of this.
The man at the porn store was my best chance at escape today and I was too afraid to take it. That was probably a bad call.
It’s okay, though. Jasper doesn’t intend to kill me tonight, and tomorrow is another day—hopefully one with a few better opportunities for escape.
At the porn store, it would have been easy for someone to believe Jasper’s story, but tomorrow we won’t be at the porn store. That exhibitionist story he made up won’t work anywhere else.
I wonder where he’s taking me. He said he was going to see his family. He can’t take me with him, so if he’s not planning to kill me tonight…
He must be planning to do it tomorrow. He’ll have to dump my body before he gets there and if I were committing a murder whilst on a road trip, I would definitely ditch the body somewhere far from home and far from where I’m heading, that way there’d be no logical way to track it back to me based on the geography. If he dumps me in some random small town in Wisconsin, the local authorities would be more likely to assume a local man killed me.
Damn, he’s totally going to get away with it if he kills me. Unless he’s sloppy. Leaves DNA on my body.
I’m gonna scratch him. I saw a show once where a murderer was found because the victim had his DNA under her fingernails after she scratched him. Unless he’s such an accomplished murderer than he knows he needs to clip my nails…
I stop thinking about it, realizing it’s a bit creepy to be in a position to think about how best to help my own murder investigation.
I’m not going to get murdered. I’m going to be fine. I just have to navigate these waters carefully. Do what he wants. Convince him I’m no longer a threat so he’ll let his guard lower enough for me to find a better means of escape than some creep in the parking lot of an adult store.
I need to be nice to him. This evening I’ve been a pain in his ass; that’s not going to get me anywhere but possibly dead in a Dumpster somewhere in town.
I need to get it together, approach this from a different angle. I need to stop letting my emotions get the best of me and come up with a smarter alternative.
By the time I’m done showering, I’m looking forward to tomorrow. I don’t feel sick to my stomach anymore. I’m not a nervous wreck, I am a capable woman with a plan, dammit.
A loose plan with parts I’ll have to improvise as I go, but still a plan.
I frown, looking at the empty toilet seat where my outfit had been neatly folded before my shower.
I am also a woman without clothes, apparently.
Jasper must have taken them when he came in the bathroom. It appears he took my purse, too.
Wrapping a towel around myself, I finger comb my hair real quick, then I squeeze myself against the sink so I can pull the door open.
Jasper is standing at the foot of the bed. The bigger white package from the adult store is open, the contents spread out across the mattress. With soft footsteps, I walk closer and peer around him to get a look at them.
Looks like restraints. There’s some kind of red tape on the bed, too, and he unpackaged the face harness.
I chew anxiously on my lip. “What are you doing?”
“Setting up the bed.”
I don’t know why I expected he wouldn’t tell me. He’s been incredibly forthright so far.
“Why did you take my clothes?”
“It’s the only outfit you have,” he says. “You’ll have to wear it tomorrow, so you probably shouldn’t sleep in it.”
Dread settles over me as I ask the question I already know the answer to. “Then what will I sleep in?”
Jasper looks at me over his shoulder, his gaze traveling the length of my body before landing on my face. “What you’re wearing now will work just fine.”
I swallow, clutching the towel a little tighter, but I know he doesn’t mean the damp bath towel.
He expects me to sleep naked.
“It’s cold in here,” I point out, like that will matter to him.
Unconcerned, a small smile tugs at his lips. “We’ll share body heat.”
That’s hardly reassuring, but I don’t bother arguing. I know he’s going to see me naked before all is said and done, so this isn’t the hill to die on.
The bed squeaks as I take a seat on the edge of the mattress. I pass a hand over the mussed pink bedding and cast an anxious glance at the items Jasper bought at the adult store. “When you say you’re setting up the bed, what exactly does that mean?”
He doesn’t answer me right away. He’s kneeling down, attaching something to the underside of the bed. The frame is metal, bolted down to the ground. If he’s attaching something to that, it’s probably pretty sturdy.
Apparently finished with his task, he yanks on something that sounds like a chain and nods with wordless satisfaction. He collects the packaging he discarded on the floor and gets to his feet. With his free hand, he holds up a black leather cuff attached to that chain he just pulled on.
“Ankle restraints,” he says simply.
I swallow hard. I want to drop his gaze, but I’m too horrified. “Why do you need those?”
Jasper cocks a dark eyebrow like I’ve asked something too stupid to comprehend, but his tone is patient, regardless.
“To restrain you, snowflake. Why else?”
CHAPTER 7
JASPER
The girl loses several shades of color when I say that.
I’m not sure why. Did she think I’d trust her to stay in this bed all night while we slept? Sure, I can hold onto her, but people are too vulnerable in their sleep. Once I nodded off, she might slip out of my arms without me waking up. Maybe she’d quietly pull on her clothes and run out the door; maybe she’d pick up the microwave on top of the mini fridge and bash me in the head with it.
Who knows what she’d do?
I’m not about to find out.
I have better equipment at home, but it was lucky finding this motel right by the adult shop. Bondage gear works well in a pinch.
Autumn isn’t considering my side of things, though, she’s only thinking about being naked and tied up at the mercy of a strange man.
Understandable, but out of her hands.
After acting the way she has today, she’s getting tied up before I’ll be able to sleep, that’s all there is to it.
“Now, wait a minute,” she says, warily scooting away from me as I approach her side of the bed.
The cheap, white towels the motel supplies don’t provide much coverage. As Autumn scoots back, the material rides up and exposes a little more of her creamy thigh.
I’m not disinclined to play a little game of cat and mouse, so I climb on the bed and prowl toward her.
The panic in her eyes intensifies. “I—I don’t need to be restrained.” I advance on her and she scoots backward. “Let’s start over. I’ll play nice.”
I can’t help smiling at her desperate plea as she tries to get away from me. “Mm-hmm, I’m sure you will.”
“I will,” she insists with far more passion.
She’s about to roll off the other side of the bed. Before she can, I pounce, planting an arm on her other side to halt her escape.
“Show me.”
Her big blue eyes widen as she looks up at me like an animal caught in a trap. I like her in this position—pinned beneath me on the bed with only a thin towel between us.
I don’t need restraints to make her helpless when I’m awake.
She’s got a death grip on that towel, though. I want to see all of her, every bare inch, so I reach down to move it. I’m surprised when she lets me. I expected her to put up a fight.
Her breath catches, a chill passing over her as the cool air hits her bare tits. Fear flashes through her eyes because she doesn’t know what I’ll do next.
I like watching her watch me, but I drop her wary gaze to look down at her body.
The towel is still partially wrapped around her torso, but the soft mounds of her breasts are completely uncovered and just begging to be played with.
Before I can touch her, she asks me a question, her voice trembling. “How?”
I look back at her face. I got so distracted by the sight of her breasts, I lost track of what we were talking about. She must see a flicker of uncertainty in my eyes, because she goes on, tentatively.
“How can I… show you?”
“Use your imagination,” I say. “Let’s see what you come up with.”
Autumn’s teeth sink into her plump lower lip, drawing my gaze straight to her mouth. Fuck, she looks sexy when she does that. Her body is trapped beneath mine so she must feel my swift reaction, like hard steel erecting itself against her soft thigh.
She swallows. Another flash of uncertainty flits through her pretty blue eyes, then I feel her moving beneath me, trying to shift positions. I want to see where she’s going with this, so I let her.
Her hands move quickly, like she has to do it before she changes her mind. She pulls the towel open so it’s beneath her on the bed, her body completely bare to my hungry gaze.
I don’t know why, but I can’t look away from those big blue eyes, even with her nakedness tempting me to look lower.
She moves her lovely legs next, letting them fall open.
I sink between them to see what she’ll do. I expect her to recoil with the rough fabric of my jeans pressed against her bare pussy, but she only jumps a little.
She takes a quick breath, her hands moving hesitantly to rest on my sides. Her touch is so light, I can barely feel it through the fabric of my shirt, but still it burns. Every centimeter of skin touched by her delicate fingers burns.
I want to fuck this girl. I knew I found her attractive, but I didn’t realize how much I wanted to fuck her.
The realization makes my heart pound faster. I want to fuck her, and I can—she’s right here, naked in my bed…
She’s so afraid of me right now, she may not even fight me.
I capture one of her much smaller hands in mine and pin it at her side against the bed, my gaze moving over her anxious face as I do. I want to look lower, but I still can’t drag my gaze away from her face.
I want to watch her as I touch her. I’m hungry for her reactions. I want to observe every gasp, every lurch. I want to know what makes her eyes roll back with pleasure, what makes her shyly avoid my gaze.
My fingers sink into her wet hair and curve around the back of her skull. I lift her off the bed just a little and she gasps, instinctively pushing against me, trying to get back on solid ground.
I don’t let her. I keep her suspended, just high enough off the bed to make her feel unsettled by my control over her. I want to see what she’ll do.
On the face of it, it’s an insignificant amount of power to wield. There are no real stakes. At worst, I drop her and she falls back against the mattress.
But I’m curious.
I have plenty of real power over her right now, but it has all been taken against her will. I want to see if she’ll give me any.
I have a feeling she will.
I wait for her to catch on. To trust me. It doesn’t take long.
When I pull her body close, she’s like clay in my hands. I pull her closer until her core is pressed against mine.
She locks her arms around me, pressing her lips against my chest.
Christ.
Missing out on her lips against my skin can’t happen more than once, so I support her weight with one arm and reach back to tug my shirt off with the other. Autumn releases me when she realizes what I’m doing, then secures her arms around me again once she can reach my skin.
“Kiss me again.”
She presses her soft lips against my skin almost before I can finish telling her to. I close my eyes as she keeps at it, kissing her way across my bare chest.
There’s passion and tenderness I haven’t earned in these kisses. Like the unrepentant bastard I am, I soak it up anyway.
Only for a couple of minutes, though. Only until her kisses start moving lower and lower.
A red flag shoots up, clearing the haze of lust and waving where I can’t ignore it. A vision of my pretty little snowflake tricking me—tempting me with her sweet kisses, knowing how much I want to feel her lips around my cock, but when my guard is down and I close my eyes to enjoy the suction of that pretty little mouth…
