Beneath Blackwater River by Leslie Wolfe (love story books to read txt) 📕

“Be still,” he said, and the firmness in his tone had a stronger effect than his actual words. His arms felt strong, and the proximity of his body filled her nostrils with a potpourri of fine scents. His cologne, starched laundry, new leather, the air freshener she’d smelled in his car. She complied, feeling like jelly in his hands, yet unable to stop crying.

“When are we leaving?” she asked, whimpering, shivering.

“Not right now,” he replied. “Will you be a good girl?” he asked, taking one hand off her arm.

She nodded, and he released her, standing and stepping away from her. “My goodness, you are so beautiful,” he whispered, as in a trance. “You look just like her.”

“Please let me go,” she pleaded, fidgeting on her seat under his intense gaze. No one had ever looked at her that way. No one had ever spoken to her that way. Only in the movies she’d heard men say those words.

“Hush, hush,” he whispered, touching his lips with his raised index finger. He took off his jacket, not minding the cold that was already seeping under the strong jets of heated air coming from the vents. Then he kneeled in front of her and touched her feet. “You’re frozen, and it’s my fault. I’m so sorry, my dear.”

She sniffled and frowned, watching him massage her feet with strong, warm hands. She’d also seen movies where girls like her were kept hostage, only to be killed at the end. She tried to pull away, but his gentle grip turned ironclad and she had no choice but to submit to his will.

He stood and sighed, staring at her as if she were someone he hadn’t seen in a while.

“Who do I look like?” she asked, as soon as she gathered the courage.

“Huh?”

“You said I looked just like—”

She choked on her words when he pulled out a knife from a holster at his belt and set it on the table within his reach. The long, serrated blade reflected the lightbulbs in the ceiling, making her squint, then look away.

Her instincts had been right. He wasn’t so kind after all. A creep, like all the rest.

He caressed her hair, feeling its texture, then frowned just a little, seemingly unhappy. “I like things a certain way,” he said, his voice still gentle and warm, but also inflexible. The size of the blade on the table told her pleading with him made no sense. “When you take a shower, don’t dry your hair anymore.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, his strange request tightening her stomach in a knot. Fear prickled her skin, sending waves of goosebumps emanating from the places he touched. “Please let me go,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

He smiled, looking at her with eyes filled with some kind of strange yearning. It wasn’t like the sickening urges her stepfather’s homies had on their faces whenever they watched porn. It was different, yet the same. Different, because it seemed gentle, patient, loving, almost sweet, even electrifying. The same, because it seemed just as demanding and restless, just as urgent. “Such perfection,” he whispered, transported, “and never been touched.”

She pulled away and tried to run, but he caught her arm in a strong grip. “Don’t ruin that,” he said, the threat in his voice obvious. “Don’t make me do things I don’t want to do.”

She nodded, swallowing hard, the thought of his oversized knife at the forefront of her mind. He released her arm, and ran his fingers against her cheek. “Now go take another shower, my dear. Don’t dry your hair anymore.” He stopped for a moment, thinking. “Don’t dry yourself at all; just wrap yourself in a towel and come right out. I’ll be here this time, I promise.”

She cried under the hot water, cried until her tears ran out, fear strangling her, reminding her she couldn’t stay in that shower forever. She’d soon have to come out and face whatever he had planned for her.

She squeezed the excess water out of her hair and did as instructed, wrapping a large bath towel around her body, and opened the door. She thought she’d seen him seated at the dining room table, waiting for her, but she only caught a glimpse of him before darkness returned. Screaming, she stepped back into the bathroom, but soon he was there, folding her in his arms, whispering soothing, loving words in her ear, caressing her wet hair, while she sobbed and trembled, her shoulders heaving and her teeth clattering.

Relenting, she let the embrace happen, knowing she could scream all she wanted but no one would hear; she would only make him angry.

He lifted her off her feet then carried her over to the bed, where he set her down gently. The sheets felt like smooth, scented satin under her skin. Her towel came undone and she tried to cover herself, but he hushed her into silent, frozen obedience. Slowly, he unwrapped the towel off her body and stood there, staring at her in the almost complete darkness that was starting to lift with the earliest crack of dawn. Then he put a silk blindfold on her, again shushing her resistance. “You’ll see it’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

When she screamed, the coyote howled.

21A Night Out

Kay filled the coffeemaker pot at the faucet, rapping her fingers against the kitchen counter impatiently. She’d sprung out of bed at first light, a whirlwind of upsetting thoughts swirling in her mind, and couldn’t wait to get her day going.

The night before had started well, a relaxing, after-hours dinner with a colleague and work friend.

Yeah… right. Go on, keep telling yourself that.

She couldn’t even be honest with herself anymore. Her feelings for Elliot were far from the typical feelings she had or, better said, didn’t have, for any other colleague. That’s why her heart had swelled when he stopped her by the Caldwell Farms gate,