Cellar Door (17 page)

Madonna

This time when I hear his footsteps, I don’t bother getting up from my cot or even turning away from the wall where I’m curled in the fetal position. But I can’t stop my heartbeat from racing in my chest or my limbs from trembling in anticipation. To put it simply, I never know why he’s here or what he wants.

He sets something down on the desk. I refuse to look, no matter how curious I am. As quickly as he appeared he disappears back up the steps and through the door. I listen for the sound of the door being locked and the fading rhythm of his footsteps.

When I’m sure he’s gone, I get up to investigate what he brought down.
Maybe it’s a severed head or locks of his last victim’s hair,
I think to myself sarcastically.

My breath hitches when I see the large black nylon bag. Tentatively, I open it to reveal the laptop, which I hope still houses the beloved characters of my imagination. My hands tremble as I go through the contents of the bag: a notebook, pens, highlighters, small post-it notes, and books. I don’t see anything that could help me escape or overpower my captor, but I’m so happy with the return of these precious things that I don’t even care.

I rub my temples and pinch the bridge of my nose as I struggle to sort through the myriad feelings warring inside me: gratitude, resentment and the unexpected desire for him to pin me down and fuck me like he did the other night. I’ve never been so confused.

Liam

I lean back in my chair and watch her on my video monitoring app. I absently rub the pad of my thumb back and forth over my bottom lip as I analyze her body language. I have a new appreciation for my college psychology professor—the old goat knew more than I gave him credit for back in the day.

Whether I want to admit it or not, I’m watching her reaction because I want her to be pleased. This woman has managed to do what no other woman has: make me give a fuck about something beyond myself. When it comes to my patients, they always come first—not so in the case of my personal life. I have not forged the usual connections in my personal life, partly because of the demands of my career and partly because of my…singular sexual appetites. The last thing I need is to be water cooler gossip fodder.
Then what the fuck am I doing keeping a woman in my basement?

I push the nagging thoughts away and return to watching my lovely captive. I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone as happy as she is right now—over writing supplies. My cock stirs as she lovingly runs a hand over the spine of a book, reverently, as if it is the most magnificent thing she has ever touched. I want to feel her hands stroking my cock like that.

Man, oh man, what I’d love to teach you in the bedroom, young lady.
Mentoring a woman like her in the sensual arts, introducing her to the kinky depravity I crave, would be beyond gratifying to a man like me.

My mind goes back to the night she spent with me. I can still feel her jugular vein pulsing beneath my fingertips. There’s nothing like holding a woman’s lifeblood in your hands and seeing the fear in her eyes.

It’s almost comical when I think about it: she has no idea that she belongs to me. I can only imagination her shock when she realizes that I have no intention of ever letting her go.

His Awakening

I discreetly follow his car as he cruises the main drag, trolling for hookers. I guess paying for pussy is one way to have variety.

I wait until he pulls into an alley, probably taking a shortcut to get back onto the stroll since he hasn’t talked to any women yet. Now’s my chance and I am a man who seizes the day—or, in this case, the night.

I follow behind him flashing my lights. I’m taking a chance that he won’t panic. People have a way of doing that when they know they’re doing something wrong. Though the alley is narrow, it’s wide enough for the small car he’s driving to pull over. I pull up beside him and roll my window down.

“Hey, man,” I say with a nod toward his car. “That back tire of yours looks a little low. You might have a leak. Could cause you problems, and I doubt you want to be stuck in this neighborhood at night with a flat tire.”

When I smile he seems relieved, as if he’s been fortunate enough to encounter a good Samaritan who’s only trying to
help
. I get out of my vehicle and do a great impression of checking the tire for him and he makes the mistake of following suit. When he bends down to take a look, the stab of the syringe in his neck happens so quickly he has no time to react. He drops like a rock.

I move quickly, dragging his body toward the back of my van. After I heave him in, I open the section of shelves and handcuff him to one of the heavy-duty tie-down metal hooks. I close the shelves and, presto, he’s nowhere to be found. The fucker’s too big to fit in the hidden floorboard compartment but this will do just fine.

I return to his car, turn the engine off and grab his keys. A bobble-head doll in a hula skirt catches my eye as it wobbles on the dashboard. I like trophies; I kept the woman’s glasses after I plucked out her eyes. The sound of the doll’s suction cup base popping free sounds jarringly loud in my adrenaline-charged state.

I hop into the driver’s seat of my van and take off, leaving no evidence that I was ever there. But that doesn’t bother me. The public will know soon enough that a killer walks among them.

Liam

I toss the covers off and get up to take a piss. Instead of getting back in bed, I head to the hallway. I know where I’m headed before I even think about it. Her presence pulls at me, luring me downstairs to watch her as she sleeps. It has become my favorite pastime. When she sleeps, there’s no judgment on her face and I’m not some crazed kidnapper holding her against her will in his basement.

I quietly pad through the house in bare feet to the basement door and start down the steps, being careful to avoid any creaky floorboards. Every house has its stories to tell and every house settles on its foundation in its own way. I know this house like the back of my hand, every nook, every cranny, and every place a victim could possibly hide or attempt to escape. My life depends on it.

Her steady breathing assures me she’s asleep. I stand over her for a long moment, mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest and basking in her beauty. I’m captivated by the long brown hair that cascades over her pert breasts, and it is only with a concerted effort that I resist the urge to run my fingers through it.

I shift my attention over to her desk and the notebooks that she has stacked there. I bought her several different styles, knowing she might need them for different purposes. I pick up the one intended for day-to-day journaling. I glance over my shoulder to make sure she’s still asleep and begin to read, the words coming alive in my mind as if she were reading them to me herself:

I wonder what I’ll do when this game he plays comes to an end. As crazy as it sounds I can’t see myself going to the police and crying: he abducted me. I’ve always been one to look at motives and this man’s motives though misconstrued are pure.

A part of me hates myself for how I feel when he walks in the room—when I hear his footsteps above me and I know he’s coming down those steps any second. My heart races and I give in to the need for human contact, the need to talk to somebody—anybody—because the stress and isolation is more than I can bear. Having these writing materials helps a bit. As badly as I hate to admit it, those items being taken away will definitely affect how I handle myself with Liam in the future.

I wonder if I’m as sick as Liam is…the way my body reacted to his rough treatment was a total surprise. I’m not a woman who sleeps around, in fact there have only been two lovers in my past. The fumbling around in the backseat of a car on prom night was as disappointing as it was awkward. My only other sexual experience was a few dates with a co-worker, and the whole thing left much to be desired. I’ve felt more pleasure by my own hand than I ever have with a man – until now.

This man has touched me in ways I never knew existed. What he did to my soul goes far beyond any pleasure, any orgasm. The man I hate, the man I loathe for taking my freedom from me, is the only man I’ve ever felt any kind of connection with.

I’m shocked by what I’ve just read. It’s as if someone has taken what’s inside of me and put it on paper. This time when I look over at her, her eyes are open and her steady gaze is fixed on me. I take a step toward her and can’t hide my pleasure as her cheeks flush and her pupils dilate at my hesitant approach.

“You’re mine. But you already know that, don’t you?” I take a few more halting steps toward her, transfixed by the trail of moisture her tongue leaves as it darts out to lave her plump bottom lip. “Neither of us will ever be the same. Fate brought us together, I’m sure of it. But it’s going to take more than fate to keep us together. You see, there are dark forces trying to keep us apart, Madonna, but I’ll take care of everything and they will have no power over us. You’ll see.”

“We’re not a couple, Liam. The things you’re saying sound crazy.”

I reach down and grip her shoulders, forcing her to stand. “I have loved to the point of madness…”

I know she’ll recognize the quote from Francoise Sagan. She confirms it when she finishes it for me in little more than a whisper, “…that which is called madness, that which to me is the only sensible way to love.”

My mouth crashes down on hers, my tongue exploring her mouth desperately as I try to convey my yearning to keep her with me. My fingers sink into her hair, twisting and pulling the silken strands, reaching for ecstasy within this madness we share.

My breath stills in my throat when her hand slides down the front of my drawstring pants. I viciously grab her wrist, clamping down on it as I pull her head back and stare down into luminous blue eyes.

“Is that what you want—my cock buried deep inside you?”

She gasps and tries to twist away from me but there’s no escaping the vice-like grip I have on her.

“I don’t know what I want,” she whimpers as she struggles against my hold.

“That’s just as well, then, because it doesn’t fucking matter what you want. I know what you need.” I shove her hand down to the base of my cock and forcing her to squeeze it hard. As I move her hand up and down my hard length, I growl in her ear, “That’s it, right there, it’s all for you. Everything I do is for you…”

I slide my hands down her curves, grab the hem of her nightshirt, and pull it over her head. Her breasts fill my hands. I knead the velvety flesh as I stroke her nipples until the flesh is swollen and taut against my thumbs. I am determined to wage an assault on her senses that will bring her walls crashing down around us. 

I push her down on all fours and tear the dainty cotton panties from her body. Two of my fingers slide into her soaked pussy and her whole body trembles as I stroke her G-spot. I know no other man has ever taken the time to explore her body like I will.

“Oh fuck, Liam! What are doing to me?”

“I’m making you mine, making any other men a distant memory.”

Her body convulses as her juices flow over my fingers and she ruts against my hand. She wants what I can give her. I’m creating what I want in her—pleasure, pain, addiction, a need for my touch.

“I’m your new drug of choice, and you don’t even know it…yet.” My fingers leisurely spread her open, exploring and imbedding in my memory every detail of her body. My fingers clench her hips when she tries to wriggle away to escape my scrutiny. I won’t tolerate that. She will be as open to me emotionally as she is right now physically. I’ll allow no less than total exposure, enabling me to
know
her in a way no one else ever has.

I caress and squeeze her ass, the flesh silky and firm in my hands. Giving her no warning of my intentions, I raise my hand and bring it down hard on her backside. Her shocked gasp pleases me so I do it again, even harder, this time striking the apex of her thighs before I line up the head of my cock to her entrance and take her in one relentless thrust. She cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure and her pussy flutters around my cock as she adjusts to my possession. I curve my torso over her until we are skin-to-skin from shoulder to hip, my breathing labored as I nuzzle her neck and smile. Soon my touch will be as necessary to her as breathing.

I’m already on the edge of finding my pleasure, my teeth clenching as I fight to stave off the orgasm that eagerly awaits me. God help me, her creamy walls feels so good clenched around my cock as she comes.

“Your body betrays you, Madonna mine,” I murmur against her skin as I move inside her. “It tells me all your dirty little secrets. This soaking wet cunt, your swollen nipples throbbing for me, and the way you sound when you come for me…They all tell me what we both already know, that you belong to me.”