Captured (10 page)
Pure, animalistic lust once again flooded his features. She stroked him a few times, feeling him swell in her hand. She stroked him gently, wondering if the flush on his face was from the orgasm building inside him or from the overload of caffeine. Would the coffee change the feelings he experienced when he climaxed?
He put her hands on his shoulders and she could feel him shaking. She continued to jerk him, savoring the feel of his hard cock in her hand. If her body wasn’t already sore, she would bend over and beg him to take her. Instead she stroked him gently, working his foreskin, loving the way his facial movements changed as she played.
“Is this good?” She put one hand on his balls, squeezing them gently. “Do you like that?”
“Fucking good,” he said, frowning when she laughed. “Did I not say it right?”
“You said it perfectly.” She jerked harder, tightening her grip.
Within minutes, he threw back his head and bellowed, “Venise!” His seed coated her hand and she put her ear against his chest, listing to the rapid thump of his heart. As they stood there, she wondered why she would ever want to leave her. Being with him had been perfect once she’d come to terms with her situation.
Then she thought about her parents, and wondered what they were thinking right now. Would they know that she’d vanished? Had they called the police to look into her disappearance? She was their only child, and they’d given her everything she could ever hope for in life.
She had to find a way out of her, for their sake if for nothing else.
“She’s never spoken to me. No one has, until you.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “What?”
“The witch, she’s never said anything to me. I ask for things and she gives them to me, if she thinks I deserve them.”
“That’s very big of her, since she’s the reason you’re here anyway.” Venise turned him toward the table, then gave him a slight push toward a chair. When he was seated, she sat on his lap, picking up a napkin and cleaning off his cock. She tossed the tissue into a barrel that sat nearby then wrapped his arms around his neck.
A day ago, she would have been embarrassed to sit on a man’s lap while she was totally naked. But somehow, this felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m impressed that you lasted here this long, by yourself.”
“At first I tried to end my own life.” His voice was devoid of emotion as he spoke. “But then I realized my father would win. And I couldn’t have that. I would stay by myself forever if it would make him suffer.”
He spoke the last few words with an intensity that made her shiver. “Do you think he’s dead?”
“I do not know, nor do I care. If he is suffering in the
Warmth suffused her as he caressed her thigh. “Do you love your mother and father?”
“Yes.” Tears stung her eyes. “My parents adopted me. I was left on a church step in
Italy
, and they brought me into their family, made me their daughter. They’ve given me everything.”
The difference between her loving parents and his asshat of a father didn’t escape her. “You know how you feel about your mother?” When he nodded, she continued. “I feel that way about my parents. I’m sure they’re worried about me.”
“I’m sure my other was upset when my brothers and I disappeared. I’ve often wondered about her, how she withstood our loss, but yet had to stay with…him.”
His body grew taut and his chest still heaved. It was a mixture, she was sure, of the caffeine, and the hatred he had for his father.
“We need to make a list of questions for the witch. Do you have something to write on?”
His look of confusion answered the question.
“Okay, let me see if I have anything in my bag.” She jumped from his lap and grabbed her bag. She dumped it upside down on a chair. Out fell her wallet, some pens, two small notebooks, a romance novel and several cosmetic bags she’d forgotten had been inside. They spilled open, a few of the items spilling to the floor. She ignored them and grabbed a pen and notebook before settling herself on his lap again.
“Number one, we need to find out what happened to your brothers, where they are.”
“Mrs. Westergard says they are banished, like me?”
“Yes.” She wrote down the question. “We should also ask her what happened to your mother.”
Rugoff nodded, and she had the idea he couldn’t put into words how important that was to him.
“Then, we need to ask her how we can get out of here. Together.”
A seductive smile spread across his face. She’d barely swallowed when he captured her face between his hands and kissed her. The manly taste of him mixed with the coffee and sugar that still lingered in his mouth was intoxicating.
“I think I like the food from your time, although your other things are somewhat mystifying.” He fingered the notepad then glanced at her computer.
“Computers are a wonderful thing and can come in handy. I’ll demonstrate how it works.”
“I would like that.” He patted her on the bottom as she stood and she responded with a shake of her hips.
They walked to the table and she tapped the power button on her computer. It didn’t respond and she groaned in disgust.
“It’s out of juice.”
“Juice.” He went to the table and returned with a pitcher of orange juice. “This comes every morning. Will it work?”
Venise tried to stifle a giggle. “No, it’s a different type of juice. I’m talking about batteries, which provide power for things. That’s the juice that you drink.”
In response, he lifted the pitcher to his lips and took a drink.
“Just like a man.” She ran her fingers over the keys. “We need to remember to ask the witch to bring us a computer battery.”
“You must remember that she doesn’t always answer my requests. Nor has she ever answered my questions about why I was here, or when I could leave.”
“You’ve asked it before?”
“Many times, especially after the annual trial. I defeat the evil force and keep the key safe. Yet I’m still here, day after day.”
Venise’s body tingled, but this time it was not from the nearness of Rugoff. “Maybe I can help you this year. Tell me about the trial.”
“It comes at different times, and I always know when it will arrive, because there is no food that morning.”
That was rude, Venise thought. Why would the witch send him into battle without a good breakfast? Did she want him to fail?
“After the battle is won, she provides me with a great feast.”
Which you have to eat by yourself.
Venise needed to have a talk with this witch. Making Rugoff and his brothers suffer for what their father did was not a proper punishment. When she came face to face with the woman, she intended to let her know that.
Rugoff had her hand in his, gently stroking the area where she’d sliced her hand when she first arrived. She expected to feel pain, but there was none. She pulled her hand away and unwrapped the bandage, letting the linen fall to the floor.
The wound was gone, and there was no scar, no evidence that she’d been injured at all.
“You’re magical.”
“No, I’m not.” She stared at it, wondering exactly what this meant. “Maybe it’s this place. Have you ever been hurt?”
“Never.” The word held wonder, as if he’d never once thought about his lack of injury.
“It has to have something to do with the witch, then.” She put her head on his shoulder. “Tell me about the place where you found me.”
“What about it?” She felt his shrug. “It’s just a clearing in the forest.”
“Is it where this ‘test’ takes place?”
“Yes.”
“Then that place means something. We need to go there. Now.”
“Not now.” He took her hands to keep her from rising. “Can’t you hear the winds?”
She listened carefully and for the first time heard the howl of wind outside. “How did you hear that?”
“When you are alone, you hear everything.” He tweaked her cheek, then reached behind her and picked up her book.
“What is this?”
“It’s a romance novel.” She winked at him. “They’re my guilty pleasure. They’re stories of love and well, sex. This is how the storytellers of my time tell their tales.”
“Why do you feel guilty about it?”
“Do you want the scholarly answer, or do you want to know what I think?”
“Both.”
“Very well, get ready for a lecture.”
Venise had given her fair share of lectures in her life, but none of them had been delivered while she was naked. They always said to visualize your audience naked to help with nerves, but she’d never once thought it should be the other way around.
She tried to stand but he held her close to him. “Where are you going?”
“To get a tunic.”
“I think not.” He tickled her side. “I like you just as you are. Now, tell me the story.”
He thumped his finger against the book and she held it out. “This is called
Ticket Me More
,
by one of my favorite authors, Tia Fanning.”
She showed him the cover, which featured a man and woman locked in an embrace. It also featured handcuffs, a pair of stilettos and some flowers. He pointed to the handcuffs.
“These are?”
“Used to bind a person’s arms together. The man in this is a police officer. He enforces the law.”
“She has broken the law?”
“Well, she’s, um, yeah, she’s attracted his attention by speeding.”
His face wrinkled in confusion. “Speeding?”
“In her car, which is a boat with a motor, only it’s used on the land, with wheels.” She chewed on her lips. “I don’t think you understand, do you?”
He shook his head and she sighed. “Never mind, that’s for another discussion. First, let’s talk about romance novels. They’re mostly written for women, and they contain a lot of coupling.”
“I like that idea.”
“Me too.” She flipped through the pages. “Some people say the novels are nothing more than porn for women, that they hold no literary value. When a storyteller came to your home and provided you with entertainment, the story always held some sort of moral at the end, right? It distinguished between good and bad.”
“Do your romance novels do that?”
She moved her hand from side to side. “They are more for entertainment, to provide women, and sometimes men, with an escape from the problems of everyday life. I use them for escapism, to forget my work and just enjoy the tale.”
“Why do scholars think that bad?”
“Not all of them do, but there are some people who think writing about sex is bad. People don’t always agree on things.”
“Some things never change,” he whispered. “I am happy to take part in your guilty pleasure. Now, tell me the story.”
“Yes, sir.” She settled herself into his lap, loving the feel of his arms around her as she read to him of the flower shop owner and her brush with the law, and then her brush with the lawman.
During the first sex scene, she felt him stir, the rigid feel of his cock pressing against her thigh.
“I take it you like the story.”
“I do.” He put his hand between her legs and traced her slit. She was wet and it opened easily for him. “You are wet and ready for me. Does the story do this to you?”
“Yes, they do make want a man.”
He nibbled on her shoulder. “Yet you have no man in your life. How do you release your tension?”
“How have you taken care of yours these years? With your hands, right?” When he nodded, she bit her lower lip. Should she tell him about her other method of release? Hell, why not. “Plus, I have a vibrator. It is another device, only this one is shaped like a penis. It vibrates and I can use it on my clit, or fuck myself with it.”
“It provides you with pleasure?”
“Yes, it’s not like having this—” she traced his rigid cock “—inside me, but it works in a pinch.”
Their fingers explored, his inside her wet folds, hers along his hard length. When he put the pad of his finger on her clit and pushed, she swore she might come. But he didn’t apply enough pressure. His touch was light enough to stir her, but not to make her climax.
“Tell me more.”
Venise tried to catch her breath. She didn’t want to read. She wanted to come. “Let’s play first.”
He shook his head, a seductively wicked glint in his eyes. “Tell me more. Now.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll act like the lawman in this story. Doesn’t he give Melanie a ticket for breaking the law by her speeding?”