“You’re awful quick with those handcuffs,” I tease, my voice shaking a little. “I just might guess you’ve done this before.”
Bane half-winces, half-smirks at me. “Different circumstances. But yeah, I know my way around some bondage.”
“You’ll have to show me sometime.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Focus.”
“I am! Isn’t a basic bondage tutorial part of the plan?”
I grin wryly up at him, and he cups my face. “That’s my brave girl.”
He leans in, his lips brushing against my neck in a warm, tender kiss. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of his mouth on my skin and his huge muscular body protecting me like a shield against the craziness around us. I am helpless against his touch, against the cuffs. He kisses along my jaw, his touch light as a feather.
Anyone passing us would think we were just another prostitute and customer utilizing the joys of the sex fence.
“Remember,” Bane murmurs in my ear. “Signal the second he walks in the door.”
The reminder brings me back to reality. I nod, forcing my eyes open into slits.
“Be careful, baby.” I whisper.
It’s hard to say how long we wait. The only measure of time in this hallway is the groaning and grunting and moaning of the people around us. Every time the big metal door slides open I crane my neck to see if I recognize the faces of the approaching patrons. And every time, it’s not him.
Until it is.
I feel angry chills prickle all over my skull the second Mr. King’s red hair floats into the frame of my vision, only a few yards away. It all rushes back in my memory with a sick feeling, from the chemistry I imagined between us at Skollz Corp to the utter shock and helplessness I felt when he left me here to rot.
It seems decades ago, but it’s only been four days since the last time I’ve seen Mr. King’s face. It was Friday when Mr. King brought me here. It must be Monday evening now. He’d be leaving for Australia tomorrow for the business trip I was supposed to be on, another life ago. In those four brief days, that face of his that I once thought handsome has twisted in my brain, revealed to be the face of the devil himself.
Mr. King is walking briskly with the same look of intense focus that he wore Friday. I’m staring, open-mouthed, wanting to rip his infuriatingly calm face off and ask him why he’s done this to me. The heat of fury and rage that’s lived in my bones since Mr. King abandoned me flares until I think I might explode.
“That’s him.” I urgently tap Bane’s foot with mine, our pre-arranged signal, and he straightens to glance surreptitiously over his shoulder.
A muscle in Bane’s jaw twitches. His eyes narrow. “Ready?”
We’ve gone over the steps a hundred times, but now that it’s game time I’m unbearably nervous, like a new recruit going to their first battle. It’s a simple one, two, three attack: bump him, catch him, and kill him. But it’s my first murder, my first revenge, and I’m jittery as fuck. Mr. King is only a couple yards away now, walking down the hallway like a groom in a kinky wedding gone way wrong, barely noticing the people chained to the fence around him.
I nod and take a deep breath. Mr. King is an arm’s length away.
“Ready.” I say to Bane. “Now.”
Bane rolls off of me, his massive chest slamming into Mr. King’s shoulder and knocking the surprised executive off-balance. Lightning fast, Bane’s hand suctions onto Mr. King’s shoulder, steadying him.
“Oh, excuse me, man,” Bane grumbles in a perfect imitation of drunken slurring. “So sorry. Didn’t see you. Want a turn? Here, you take her.”
Mr. King grimaces at Bane in distaste and tries to brush the bigger man’s hand away, but Bane’s grip is too tight.
“No, no,” says Mr. King with a fake polite smile. “That’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
Bane’s apologizing like a groveling puppy. “Seriously, I’m sorry. Here, have a turn.”
“No, no.”
“I insist.”
Bane’s got a head’s height advantage and easily bulldozes Mr. King toward the edge of the aisle until the smaller man stumbles right into my spot on the wall. Bane gives him a rough shove and suddenly we are nose to nose. Mr. King thumps awkwardly against me, his hips jutting into my belly.
Fast as lightning, I raise my legs and wrap them around his hips like a vice. I can’t help but sneer a little as I smile at him, a cold strong feeling overwhelming my insides.
“Good evening, Vincent.”
It’s not until I link my ankles behind his back and squeeze him to me that Mr. King even bothers looking in my face, his blue eyes foggy with annoyance and confusion. It takes a second, but suddenly his eyes clear and recognition dawns. He shakes his head at me and laughs harshly, bewildered.
“Miss Clark,” he breathes, fascinated. “My god, they’ve put you down here?”
“Oh Vincent, please, call me Ava. I think we’re on a first name basis now.”
“Are we?” His lips are caught halfway between a grimace and a smile, his brows knit in perplexity. He clearly has no clue what the hell to say to me, so I take the lead.
“You ruined my life,” I whisper. “Tossed me into human trafficking, threatened to kill my sister. Right now I can feel your tiny cock between my legs, and I’m about to be the last thing you see in your twisted, sadistic, sad little life. So, really, please, call me Ava. No need for Miss Clark. We’re way fucking past that.”
“I’ve always admired your spirit. Ava.” He chuckles, glancing down at my legs wrapped around his hips. He brings his well-manicured hands up to my thighs and rubs them slowly toward my crotch in a lecherous gesture that makes my skin crawl. “And I am sorry about what happened. But there’s no way out of this for you, so I will disregard your empty threat.”
I just smile at him. Though my heart is pounding and I want desperately to vomit all over him, I hold it together. I trust Bane, I think to myself. I trust Bane…
Mr. King licks his lips. “Although now that we’re here in this position together,” he says, “I have to admit I have pictured your legs wrapped around me a couple of times. Since you’re chained to a fence and have no real say in the matter, I might as well indulge in a little fantasy of mine.”