Deviant: Calla & Jason/Three's a Company/Final Terms: Steamy Romantic Suspense Serial Boxed Set (10 page)

1

JASON

W
hen I come to, the first thing I do is look for Calla.

My eyes quickly find her and Scott nearby in the dark, still out cold.

I scan our surroundings and realize that we’re still in a closed space, but it is an unfamiliar one—one much larger than where we were, but a definite downgrade in cleanliness.

Dust and cobwebs surround us, and there are gutted floorboards off to the side of us and ahead of us, and an aged, broken wooden crate to our left. I notice a few scattered empty bottles all around the area, and I think I see a rat scurry along about twenty feet away from us.

It is clear that we have been dropped off in some old abandoned warehouse, and for a brief, crazy moment, I miss the clean, cozy quarters we’d been held in.

Then I feel silly for momentarily thinking we might wake up in one of our apartments, probably one of the dumbest places a kidnapper could take us—a place where someone is most likely to look for us, and where the kidnapper could possibly leave evidence behind or be witnessed leaving from.

Not that I’m convinced a search party has been out for us or anything—even though it
feels
like over a week, we’ve only been gone for, what…three days? Four?

Either way, I certainly don’t have anyone expecting to hear from me daily, and for Calla and Jason, the one person who would have expected to be kept up-to-date on their whereabouts happened to be right there in that room with them.

Again, I feel a bittersweet sort of sentiment for the strange vault.

How could I really be upset by what happened there? Seriously? How could I be mad at any situation that has me together with Calla? And how on earth could I ever regret getting the chance to make love to her? To have her slender arms around me, her soft skin against mine, her sweet voice saying, “Fuck you, Voice?”

Calla means everything to me, and I don’t know if the guy behind all of this knew how I felt about her or what, but I can’t help but be a little grateful to him. Maybe even a lot.

Sure, I could have done without having a threesome involving my best friend, but still, even that gave me the chance to be with Calla again, to plunge inside her tight, wet cunt as she moaned and panted in delight.

I watched the exquisite Calla come undone over and over again, pulsing with pleasure, exploding in ecstasy, her beautiful face and body above mine.

Though Scott was behind her in the end, it didn’t take much to block him out and focus on Calla’s sweet petal mouth open as she breathed hard, her perky tits jiggling from the forces slamming into her, her feminine voice escaping her slender throat in guttural, primal groans.

What that kidnapper did for me was, in its sick way, exactly what I needed.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic to have my freedom again, but I can’t help but lament the fact that my time alone with Calla, sealed up in that cozy room, has definitively come to an end.

Still, I haven’t given up hope that being there with me changed her mind about a few important things; there’s no way she can deny the connection between us.

I suddenly hear a light moan and realize Calla is coming to nearby, Scott still out cold right next to her.

“Where the hell are we?” she asks, animating quickly as she groggily sits up.

Her eyes search the large, dusty space.

I imagine she is going through the exact thought process I had as she takes in the details.

Yes, Calla, we are in a different location, and no, you don’t recognize this new place.

She turns and tries to rouse Scott, shaking him a little.

“Let him wake naturally,” I suggest. “I’m sure he won’t be far behind.”

I want to take the precious few moments Calla and I have left alone to talk to her, but I also need to get my bearings and find some kind of clue about how far away we are from home.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, getting up.

“Where are you going?”

The expression in her eyes makes my chest tighten—I have never seen such alarm on her face on account of me before, and I’m warmed that she cares, and so openly.

“We need to figure out where we are, so I’m just going to take a look around outside, and make sure that door can even open. Be right back.”

I can feel her eyes on my back as I go and can’t help but smile.

I don’t recognize anything outside.

Luckily, it’s still daytime, but it seems like we’re in the middle of nowhere with overgrown fields surrounding us and a two-lane road in the distance.

Looks like we’ll have to get to hiking.

It’s that time of day where afternoon is about to turn into early evening, so if we don’t plan on hanging out in this warehouse overnight, we need to start walking soon.

When I return to Calla, Scott’s awake, and Calla is tenderly holding him in her arms.

I know I should have expected it, but I’m still not quite prepared for the pain that rips through me at the sight.

I make sure to set my face in a neutral expression.

“Please tell me you saw our town nearby,” Scott says.

I decide to do my part to keep hope alive.

“We might not be all that far from it, but if we want to try to make it to any kind of civilization before dark, we need to start now. Hopefully we get to a gas station or emergency phone or something soon, but the walk will help us figure out…you know, where to go from here, as in what to do about this whole thing in the immediate. We have a lot to talk about.”

Scott nods as he starts to get up, and then both Scott and Calla make their way toward me, and the three of us head outside.

“So what the hell
do
we do about this?” Calla asks. “Like, we have to report it, right?”

Scott and I look at each other.

I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but for me, involving authorities isn’t an option. I mean, report The Voice? Not only did it not make sense considering we had so little to go on, but to me, it felt like a traitorous action. How could I give up the man who gave me such an amazing time with Calla? The chance to let her know how I feel?

Part of me had been deluded into thinking Calla would see the light now that she knows how much I love her and how much better I am for her, and that she’d come to me willingly and happily, but I realize how stupid I was for getting my hopes up—Calla is still clinging to Scott, and I can see it in her every action, every glance.

Her body language is still leaning toward him, and as much as I acknowledge I shouldn’t be surprised, considering what a committed girl she is, everything in me sinks.

Sure, I could push her, but where would that get me? She’ll rebel and turn further away from me, or else grudgingly come to me as her second choice. I sure as hell don’t want that.

“What would you tell the authorities?” I ask her gently.

“Exactly what happened!” she says. “That we were kidnapped, then taken to some vault or whatever, and then forced to…to…”

I can tell she’s starting to see some of the problems with sharing our story with people who would surely look at her funny, but laugh at us guys behind our backs—for reporting fucking her, of course.

2

CALLA

O
f course we should report it! I mean, what if Voice does this to someone else? Who knows how many victims came before us? And if we report what happened, maybe detectives could pick up on some sort of pattern or something. Maybe something we think is minor ends up being a big clue to his location, and maybe there won’t be many more victims after us. Reporting what happened to us is simply the right thing to do!

But I quickly see that things are not all that simple.

I’m trying to imagine what I’d say to the cops—that I was forced to sleep with one of my best friends and have a three-way involving my boyfriend and him—and although I know a crime did take place, I start to feel a bit silly thinking about the words to express it in a way that gets across the violation that took place, beyond the kidnapping itself, the stolen time and agency.

I mean, when you think about it, sleeping with Scott is a given—he’s my boyfriend, and I didn’t need to be forced to sleep with him ever.

As for Jason, getting to sleep with him was an unexpected gift.

He’s not some dirty, questionable stranger, he’s not some guy that fills me with such repulsion that I must spew protests of traumatizing violation about—he’s someone I love in a way, and if I had made a different choice years ago, I would have willingly slept with him a lot earlier. Not to mention he’s hot as hell, so I don’t regret having his cock plunge my depths one bit; in fact, my pussy is already starting to hum to life at the memory of it.

What the hell? What has happened to me? Am I some kind of freak? Do I like that whole captivity and being watched thing?

I’m afraid to explore that further.

Still, not regretting what happened shouldn’t mean that I shouldn’t report it, right?

But I can’t stop imagining some fat, balding cop laughing at me as I tell my story, barely able to contain his amusement as I describe what happened.

I can see myself filling with rage at the twinkle of amusement in the detective’s eye, his glance at the boys, full of approval over having plugged the same girl at the same time, the disdain for me, the slut it happened to.

I’m no dummy—I know the double standard here: that I’d be tarnished while they’d be elevated, and that I’d feel violated all over again, possibly in a worse way.

I can’t imagine putting myself through that sort of public humiliation.

At least for now, what happened in that chamber is just between the three of us and happened
to
the three of us, so we’re pretty much on equal ground, as equal as can be.

As I think about things more, I realize I don’t really want to share what happened there in that room with anyone else—even the police. That experience is mine.

Wrong way to think about it, right?

God, I’m so confused. About
everything
.

But I’m also sort of elated for several reasons—some I haven’t yet identified, but the most obvious, of course, is being free at last. As much as I came to like being locked up with Jason, having simple basic freedoms taken away—like choosing what to eat for breakfast, lunch or snacks, and being able to pick out what to wear, comb my hair the way I want…you get the drift—sucked. It blows to have the rug pulled out from underneath you. And now I’m free! I get to return to my life, make my own choices, and my choice is to go back to how things were.

I’m glad I had the chance to be underneath Jason, but I know where I need to be, and that’s obviously with Scott—he and I have been through so much together. And boy, what a test that kidnapping was, yet here we are, still holding hands, still clinging to each other.

Maybe Scott and I can figure out a way to repeat the experience somehow, and find all sorts of ways to have mind-blowing sex with each other. We’ll probably end up bringing sex toys to the bedroom now because I won’t lie—I liked the feel of that double stimulation, and I seriously never thought I would. My ass still aches, but having two hot men pumping into me like that—I never felt sexier in my entire life.

“So we agree?” Jason says, even though I haven’t spoken any of my thoughts out loud, but maybe Scott did, I don’t know—I missed the past few seconds or so due to chamber flashbacks.

Jason’s voice jolting me back to the present sends another wave of realization through me, and I feel even more ashamed of myself.

Jason has been a part of my life for a while, so in a way, he was already part of me, and that chamber sure as hell made him a part of me in a lot of other ways, but I realize something else is different.

The mere sound of his voice as he speaks reaches further into me than it did before. It doesn’t just pass in and out of my ear until I hear, understand, and can respond to whatever he’s saying—it curls into my ear like an invisible tongue, then slides down my ear canal almost seductively.

I can almost feel my body grabbing onto it in an attempt to keep part of him with me, and it seems so silly! It’s just his voice, and we’re just friends—we have to be.

This new attachment to him lets me know exactly what I have to do. The three of us experienced a very traumatic, humiliating event together, and I know we’ll be bonded forever by that, but Jason and I can’t be friends anymore.

Knowing how he feels about me, plus considering how our experience affected me—it just wouldn’t be a good idea.

He’s seen me up close, far too intimately, and I don’t know if I can look at him without thinking about what it was like to have him pushing his cock inside me, my back against the wall, my arms around his strong, firm shoulders, his handsome face mere centimeters from mine, his dark green eyes filled with desire and pleasure.

It wouldn’t be fair to Scott.

Maybe those guys can still find a way to be friends—guys always seem to be able to—but Jason and I are completely done.

A sharp pain passes through my chest, and I wonder if it has anything to do with the weird positions we’ve been in the past few days.

It doesn’t take long for me to realize I’m lying to myself—that sharp pain has everything to do with the possibility of not seeing—or being able to talk to—Jason again.

Beyond what happened in that vault or chamber or whatever the fuck that was, Jason has been a part of my life since early adolescence.

How could I not mourn the loss of that?

“Agreed,” I say, realizing mine was the response Jason was waiting for.

We won’t breathe a word of our experience outside of each other, and by the time Scott and I walk down the aisle, I’m sure we’ll have gotten past it, and my lovemaking with Jason will be a distant memory.