Innocent Eyes Page 9

  I step under the stream of water. As it falls over my skin, I can’t describe the relief it brings. I open my mouth and drink the warm water, rinsing my mouth and quenching my painful thirst.

  My eyes close and the water takes the fear and trepidation away. Under the spray I can pretend that the outside doesn’t exist. I can pretend that I’m not trapped against my will. I move about and try to clean the rest of my body, still mortified that I wet myself in that chair.

  “You’re clean enough for what I’ve got planned. You’ll be fucking dirty again by the end of it.”

  Quinn’s voice shatters my illusion of peace. He leans in past my body and shuts off the water. My scalp flares again as he grabs me and hauls me out.

  “Oww! You could ask,” I mumble, wishing I felt strong enough to stand up to him.

  “I don’t ask. I take.”

  He shoves me out of the bathroom and back into the room where the rape scenes have been on a loop. He pushes me forward, and I fall, crashing to my knees. I take the moment of freedom to sprint for the door in front of me. My body slams into the wood and I grab for the handle, rattling it in desperation. It doesn’t open.

  I put my back to the door and watch him across the room.

  “Did I not explain things clearly to you? You owe me. You’ll pay me however I fucking choose.” I shake my head, my body temperature plummeting with the water cooling on my skin. He stalks across to me and I look around the small space for somewhere to run to. “You move one step, and Shifty can have my seconds. Do you want that? To be treated like the girl on the video? I know you liked it.”

  “No!” I protest, my voice shaking from the chill.

  “Don’t lie to me.” His voice quietens. He’s only a few feet in front of me, his eyes glinting with the same danger I ignored last night. “Now when I touch your cunt, it won’t smell of piss. I’ll get just you and those dirty thoughts you’re fighting with.”

  I shake my head vigorously. Perhaps he’ll give up? I know it’s a stupid thought. Silently, he moves until we’re nose to nose. I hold my breath, but he snatches it as he plunders my lips. He’s forceful and punishing, and it’s everything I loved last night and want to hate now. An unyielding door is all I’m met with in my attempt to shrink away. I press myself against it as much as possible, but I can’t escape.

  His calloused hand grabs my boob, palming and squeezing. I shove his chest and twist my body away, but I have little effect on Quinn. And even worse, my body responds. Flutters of nerves heat through my body. I turn my head, desperate to break the sick connection.

  “Mmm. Better.” He grabs my neck and marches me into the middle of the space. I drag my feet, protesting in any small way I can. The video still plays, and he turns me around so I can see one of the screens. “Kneel down.”

  My arms cross over my torso, shielding myself again. It’s as if I’m a small child, not a confident woman who went out on a date yesterday. I feel insignificant. Vulnerable.

  “Kneel,” he growls, and the shock sends me to the floor. I will not cry. I will not cry.

  I sit back on my heels and lean forward, bracing my hands on the floor. My eyes drop and watch the light from the screen dance before me. I dig my fingers into the floor, willing my trembling lips to stop. The tops of Quinn’s shoes come into my vision.

  “Time for me to drive this dick down your throat.” He chuckles a little at my gasp, my eyes widening. “See how good that dirty mouth really is.”

  His trousers drop to the floor revealing his sculpted thighs. His cock is already hard, jutting out towards me. Last night I was nervous, but I felt sexy and desired. It was an ultimate fantasy I was happy to get swept away in. This is a nightmare people watch on screen. But I’m trapped and I honestly don’t know what he’ll do next.

  I scoot backwards, but Quinn snatches my hair, dragging me towards him again like a bad dog. He pulls me up so I’m level with his crotch.

  “Open up, dirty girl.” He shoves the tip of his cock against my mouth and I try to baulk away again. He doesn’t let me. His hold becomes fiercer, making me panic and part my lips. The salty tang makes my mouth water as I stretch my jaw wider to accommodate him. My stomach rolls but I fight against it.

  Quinn’s hand grips my hair tightly, keeping me still. I feel the pressure as he forces more of his cock into my mouth. It’s suffocating and my throat starts to protest, getting tighter, restricting my breath. Saliva pools and leaks at the seal between our flesh and I screw my eyes shut, blocking out as much of the experience as I can.

  “You’re going to take all of me. Right down that innocent throat of yours.” He thrusts into my mouth, both hands now holding my head to his crotch. I can feel him at the back of my throat, and my body starts to gag at the intrusion. It’s stifling. My eyes water, leaking down my face as saliva dribbles from my chin.

  Quinn makes a few moans as he withdraws and shoves back in, a few strokes before holding his cock in my mouth for what feels like minutes. I grab onto his thighs for support, and my nails dig into his flesh.

  “You enjoying being my dirty plaything?” His voice is low and seductive, and just like yesterday it affects me. I like that he’s enjoying himself.

  Panic stirs, and I thrash in his hold. I try to move my head, but his grip stops me. The burn in my jaw spreads to my cheeks, but I block it.

  My body starts to shake, but it only causes the grunts from Quinn to get louder.

  “Open your eyes, dirty girl.”

  I do as I’m told and look up at him with watery eyes and a disgusting face.

  He bites his lip and tilts his head back as he thrusts in hard, choking me as he hits my tonsils. He looks down at me again, and our eyes lock.

  His hold loosens, and he pulls his cock from my mouth, only to pump jets of come all over my chest and face. The warm fluid coats my cheek, some of it falling to my breasts and running down my cleavage.

  He grabs my hand and hauls me up, spinning me around so my back is against his front. His fingers wrap around my neck with enough pressure to stop me from moving.

  “I’ll bet the whole hundred grand you owe me that your pussy is dripping for me,” his voice whispers in my ear. His arm wraps around me and I try to knock him away, but he just seizes my wrist. “Behave yourself. You’re my property to fuck with until I say you’re done.”

  “Will you let me go if I’m not wet?” I have to ask. I know that my body responds on some dark level I’m ashamed about, but perhaps if I know there’s a way out I can fool myself. He laughs.

  “You think it fucking matters if you’re wet or not?” He pulls me tighter and lets go of my wrist. My heart pounds in my chest as if it’s just as desperate to escape as I am. “Let’s see how many fingers I can get inside your snug cunt, dirty girl.” He cups my sex with his hand, and I’m blasted with the memory of last night and my false bravado thanks to one too many glasses of champagne.

  I feel his rough touch, and to my horror, it’s good. He pushes his finger inside of me, and it takes all the strength I have left not to moan in pleasure. He digs inside of me, pulls out and then adds another finger.

  “Shall I make you come like this? With my fingers?” Another finger gets pushed in, making me gasp. “Or can I get you to spread your legs further for me and beg?”

  “Please… Stop. I don’t want this. You’re a monster.”

  “A monster who can do this?” He curls his fingers inside of me, and I gasp again with pleasure. All of my muscles relax, and I feel myself sink into Quinn.

  He repeats the move, and I feel utterly under his control. His puppet.

  “My dirty girl likes it rough. I already knew that from last night. You feel this?” He presses his cock into the small of my back. “I’m going to take this ass and take your cunt as many times as I want. And you’ll get off on it.”

  “No.” I shake my head frantically, caught between wanting him to stop and yet yearning for him to carry on. It’s sick. “I don’t want any of this. You can�
��t force me.” Fear mixes with the odd cocktail of desire and sin already confusing my brain.

  Just to spite me, he rubs at that magical spot inside of me with the pad of his fingers, and my body convulses in his hold, betraying every word I’ve just said.

  “You’re already mine. My plaything. And such a pretty one. How much do you think you’re worth? A thousand? Ten thousand? I’ve paid for high-class cunt. You’re not in that league so far.”

  My blood turns cold at his insults. How am I going to stay in this room until one hundred grand is paid off? Panic chokes me and I twist and shove his arm out of the way. This time he lets me put distance between us. My body misses the contact straight away, rubbing salt in my already open and bleeding wounds.

  He lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, embarrassing me further by how crazy I must be to be turned on by him. Shame gnaws at my insides, but I ignore it. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to get me out of this place. Nor will it stop Quinn from further proving his point.

  I bolt to the corner furthest away from him and curl up against the wall. My tears silently track down my face. I bury my head in my knees while I try to gather some strength.

  The room’s deathly quiet for a moment, so quiet that my pounding heart eases off for a few beats. I look up, but Quinn hasn’t moved.

  “Why?” I plead. “You could have kept me in your apartment. I’d likely have done all sorts of things with you willingly. Why take me here? Why treat me like this?” I force my voice to fill the room, but it’s frail and weak.

  “I’ve told you. You owe me a debt and Canes always collect debts. I chose this way.”

  He really is a sick bastard. He had me completely fooled. Innocent little Emily, happy to have a date. Falls into bed with a stranger because for once she wants to have a good time and not think about the consequences.

  “Do you enjoy this? Seeing me like this? You said you’ve had high-class girls before.”

  “I’m not going to fork out on girls when I have perfectly good cunt right under my roof.” He walks a step forward, still sucking his fingers clean. “Whenever I want, however I want. Remember that.”

  “I won’t.” I pull my knees tightly against my chest, shielding myself from him.

  “Careful, Emily.”

  “No, I can’t. I won’t sleep with you.” He chuckles.

  “Who said anything about sleep? You’re not here for sleep.”

  “Please, Quinn. No.” The tears are back and I don’t even try to hide them.

  “Stand up.” I hadn’t even heard him cross towards me. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  I stand, using the walls to support my body. My legs feel like limp noodles, and my head throbs from the stress.

  “Don’t tell me no. It’s a waste of your breath. Accept it. There’s no way out.”

  “You can’t force me. I’ll … fight you. You’ll have to fight me.”

  He’s on me in a second. He’s so fast I don’t even react. I’m wrapped in his arms, my face plastered up against the wall.

  “Understand this. It’s my fucking rules here. If I choose to strap your ass to a table and fuck you ‘til you’re nearly dead, I will.” He licks the side of my face and gives me room to breathe again. “You should think about how you act towards me. Squirm or not, fight or not, I will get my damn money’s worth. If you think I give one fuck how you respond to that threat, you’re wrong. Battle me as much as you want.”

  His footsteps fade, and I hear the sound of the door opening.

  “Quinn, wait. Don’t leave me in here again. Please?”

  He doesn’t respond and shuts the door. I don’t even have the energy to follow after him. At least I’m not tied down. I push off the wall and wobble towards the bathroom.

  Pink cheeks, blood shot eyes, and milky white come dried over my chest. I look horrific. I turn the shower back on and take the small pleasure it brings. I clean myself off, washing my chest and between my thighs, trying to forget the ache that’s still there. I scrub with my hands in place of a washcloth and drink the water from the spray.

  Maybe if I stay under the water for long enough, it will wash the guilt in my stomach away, too. Or the shame. A host of emotions I've only loosely been familiar with now plague my existence. All because I met a cute guy and thought I could have some fun.

  Quinn called me his dirty girl. Well, that’s exactly how I feel. Dirty and used. I should be distraught. But instead, my body enjoys his rough handling, his naughty mouth. God, I’m messed up. At least my tears have dried up.

  I finally turn off the shower and look around the bathroom for a towel. I find one hanging on the back of the door and swaddle myself in it as best as I can. But it smells of him. It reminds me of him and falling asleep in his arms, feeling on cloud fucking nine. How stupid.

  The tune that has kept me sane pushes out those memories and I start to sing.

  I leave the light on in the bathroom and go back into my ‘holding room’. Thankfully, the video has stopped and in its place is a grey flickering screen. White noise. It’s peaceful, in a warped way. At least compared to what I was subjected to before. A swell of sorrow interrupts my song, and I go back to humming the tune instead. I curl up across the room from my new view and wait.

  My eyes jump open and I suck in a deep breath, as if I’m suffocating. I blink and make out the confines of the room. The memories smash into my mind as I come awake.

  I’m shivering, wrapped in a damp towel. My limbs are heavy and cold to the bone. I need to get out of here. My stomach groans, the knotted hunger pains now difficult to ignore.

  I climb to my feet and make it to the bathroom. I use the facilities and search for another towel. Anything to provide a sliver of comfort. I open the door and let the light wash out into my murky prison. My eyes land on the door across the room. It was locked last night, or whenever Quinn was last in here, but I can’t just sit in here and wait for him to turn up again. I’ve got to try something.

  My heart beat rockets to life as I slowly cross the room, looking for cameras and reaching for the door. Quinn’s watching in some sick video feed, isn’t he? He told me he knew I enjoyed watching, so he must have seen me before. I don’t care. I’ve got to get out of here.

  I lock my hands around the handle and take a breath, pushing down on it. The door creeks open.

  Chapter Eleven

  Staring up at the main house, I wait for Nathan to arrive. He crosses the paths through the grounds with his head low, some representation of the fact that he hates this life. He knows everything, just like I do, but it pains him more. That’s why he’s the accountant. He counts the numbers, moves the money, keeps us as clean as we can be, and then spends the rewards from that manoeuvring. If I need him for anything else, which is rare, he’ll do as he’s asked, but he’s never quite hardened up like a Cane should. Never quite able to give less care than average people do. He’s loyal—loyal to his family, loyal to me—but he despises everything we stand for. Constant damned challenges at me, little digs into my thickened skin. Thank fuck he’s at least learnt to be as hard as stone with his glasslike stare, our family resemblance only highlighting that to enemies who dare to forget their obligations.

  Perhaps he should get some fucking dice of his own, ease the burden that way as I do.

  “Quinn,” he says, the crisp lines of his grey suit as sharp as his jaw. “How’s Father?”

  “Breathing.”

  He snorts and then frowns, turning back to gaze at the main house with me.

  “You ever gonna get married? That monstrosity will need new blood once he goes.”

  Not a fucking chance.

  “You know as well as I do what would happen to another Cane wife, Nate. There’s always a debt somewhere that needs paying.”

  He sighs and turns around, his briefcase highlighting the business meeting we’re about to have as he heads into my house.

  “Didn’t know you cared enough to worry about that,�
� he mutters, opening his laptop and resting it on the dining table. I don’t. Never have. I can’t damn well afford to and neither can he. I just stare in response, no answer to his taunt. If he had to deal with what I do daily, he wouldn’t care either. He shakes his head at me and sighs again, sprawling paperwork across the table. “On that topic, Mother looks like shit. Has someone upped her meds yet?”

  “You know what happens when we do that. It’s not worth it, Nate. She needs some sort of life.” He shakes his head again and goes back to his paperwork, sliding himself onto the seat and booting the spreadsheets up. “You want her comatose permanently?” I look over his shoulder, watching the numbers pop up on the screen, and search them for deviations against my own spreadsheets.

  “You know I don’t. She just…” He pushes the chair back, another huff coming from his mouth. “Fuck, Quinn. She’s not even on this planet most of the time.”

  She was when six of the Mortoni family had their fun with her.

  I lean in closer to the screen, wondering why October looks lighter than it should.

  “It’s not a planet she likes very much, Nate. Leave her where she is. It’s nicer there most of the time.” I barely entertain the conversation. “Where’s the two mil gone from the Russian account?”

  The door clicks behind us and makes me spin toward it, wondering who the fuck it is. Nate’s head turns just as quickly, his hand reaching inside his suit for the Beretta he always carries.

  Josh ambles in, his dishevelled appearance instantly pissing me off. It makes Nate withdraw his hand and clear the paperwork, ready to stow it if I give him the nod. There’s nothing here to worry about.

  “Josh, we’re busy. Go play somewhere else,” I snap, irritated at the thought of him seeing her and starting his mouth running. Nate I can cope with; Josh I can’t.