Deliverance for Amelia (9 page)

Chapter Twenty-One: Gabe

I
WAIT IN THE FOYER as Amelia finished dressing for our little getaway. I’m sure she’s thinking that she’ll run screaming to airport security to save her; she’s a captive, I’m a monster, etcetera. Well, I’m looking all too forward to enlighten her. This is a scheme to dispel rumors, and she will play along. Otherwise, there will be consequences.

The limo driver steps up to the entryway, “Are you about ready, sir?”

I force a smile, annoyed at the fact that this simpleton dare rush me, “Shortly. I am waiting for my girlfriend.”

I could always hire a staff. I could pay for their silence. A driver, a butler and a maid perhaps. It’s dangerous to allow a stranger such as Mr. Kingsley here around my estate. I don’t know him from Adam, so it’s even more discerning. I’ll need to keep Amelia in check until we get into the limo. Once there, we’ll have a little chit-chat.

He nods curtly, “Of course sir, shall I take your luggage?”

I nod in response.

As he’s wheeling the fine, leather luggage out the doors, Amelia descends down the stairs – her eyes immediately snapping to Mr. Kingsley. He smiles politely before exiting the foyer.

“You look beautiful, my love.” I say as I go to her, capturing her hand and helping her down the last step.

She’s wearing the dress that I bought her. It’s light and breezy, the neckline is low cut, allowing the soft inner curve of her breasts to call to me. She’s wearing one of the pieces of jewelry that I bought her around her neck; two hearts intertwined – one outlined with black diamonds, the other with white. I thought it was fitting for her and I, the angel and her demon. The dress falls in such a way that I can see the apex between her beautiful thighs through the soft material. Her hair hangs loose and the expensive sunglasses are perched on top of her silky brunette hair. Her face is free of any makeup, other than stained red lips, which contrast perfectly against her milky skin. She’s my stunning little dove; I love it when she wears white. Innocent. Sweet. Pure.

I pull her into my arms and look into her eyes, “Don’t even so much as think of looking at Mr. Kingsley the wrong way. You’re to smile. You’re to be excited. We are going vacationing as two people in love. If you do not act as such, I will not hesitate to tie up the poor bastard and cut him up in front of your beautiful eyes.”

She sucks in a breath before I smash my lips against hers. Her body trembles against my chest. She’s so small, so frail. It takes everything in me not to bunch her dress up to her waist and fuck her against the wall.

I pull away, smiling deviously at her breathless state. She can pretend that she doesn’t want my touch, but her fluttering eyelids and quivering lip say otherwise.

I wrap an arm around her waist and escort her out the door. I activate the alarm and lock up before we slide into the limo. Once Mr. Kingsley closes the door, I reach for the champagne resting in the ice bucket and pour us each a flute. She looks surprised as her fingers wrap around the stem.

“I thought this was a reason to celebrate, especially since you’ll be seeing your father again.” I say.

Her mouth drops open, “My father?”

“Yes, my love. He’ll be joining us in Cabo.”

Her eyes travel to the window as we pull away from the drive. Finally, she responds.

“I don’t understand. Why will my father be there?”

I smirk, “We have rumors to live up to. See,” I lean in and press my cheek against hers before whispering into her ear, “You’ve missed the point. You are mine. Your father has… let’s just say… gifted me you. He’s begun the rumors. The lies. In order to save himself, he’s sacrificed you. You will not escape me. If you try, I will kill everyone that you hold dear – starting with him, and then your mother… and then, your precious Grandma June. I will make you watch every second.”

I pull away and am pleased to see her fear clouded gaze. Tears are rising to the surface, begging for escape.

Her body wretches with a sob, and then the waterworks begin.

Minutes pass.

“W-why are you doing this to me? I haven’t done anything to you. My father’s sins are his own. I played no part in any of it.” She whispers once the tears begin to dissipate.

“Because, I want to.” I respond coldly, feeling as though no other explanation is necessary.

“My father would never sacrifice me. He wouldn’t.” She says.

“You’re here, aren’t you? He’s a mayor for god sakes; do you not think that he wouldn’t send his men in here in an instant if he wanted to?” I respond, snapping my fingers dramatically.

All she does is nod slowly, trying to absorb the information that she just received. The rest of the ride is quiet. She sits impassively. Her eyes are blank, lacking any type of emotion. I assume during weeks that she’s been in my company, she knows not to fight me. She can’t fight me. Ever. She’s mine - it’s a simple fact, and after what I’ve just disclosed, she will stay in the palm of my hand.

Like a good little slave. I’m not done surprising her yet. Her fate burns in my pocket as we speak.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Amelia

I
STARE OUT THE WINDOW of Gabe’s private jet. As we fly above the clouds, I’d like to feel free, as I normally would have. Before my entire existence was swiped from under my feet by murderous hands. I used to look down at the scattered clouds hovering high above the green and brown patches of earth between bodies of water and feel as though I was a bird in flight. Not any longer. In order to be a bird, you must have wings. If I had wings, I would be free. No. No I wouldn’t. If I had wings, he would clip them. If I had wings, I would still be caged.

I didn’t think that my heart could hurt any more than it already did. This stranger has stripped me bare. He has taken my body. He has nearly taken my mind, making me forget the pieces that make me unique. He plays me like a marionette. I thought pain was watching someone’s life being stolen away right before my eyes. I thought pain was having my basic human rights stripped away. No. I was wrong, so very wrong.

Knowing that my father played a hand in this is the ultimate betrayal. We were always close. I was always his perfect little girl. I always succeeded in the many tasks laid out for me. Be a musician Amelia. Know your manners Amelia. Smile for the camera Amelia. Don’t fuck up Amelia.

I tried. I exceeded expectations. I made myself look perfect. I was a reflection of his substantial parenting. This is what I get. This is my fucking reward.

The rage swirling within me is unseen. If hatred could kill, it would flow from my body and encompass these two men – burning and blistering their skin. I would watch them writhe in pain. I would hear their pleas. I would watch and smile.

I never thought that I could hate my father, but I do. Without a doubt in my soul, I fucking hate him. He’s ordered to have others killed. Their blood is on his hands, probably even more so than Gabe’s. How do I justify that? Because, Gabe is a sick bastard. My father on the other hand, is a supposed upstanding leader in society. People trust him. People follow him. They’re blind sighted, just as I was for years.

If Gabe said that he would only kill my father if I made a peep – I wouldn’t have cared, honestly. Not after the things that he’s done. He would have deserved his fate. But my mother… my grandmother… they deserve no such thing. They have the wool over their eyes. I can’t let them die in such a manner.

“You know, you should show a tad bit more excitement. We are going to luxurious Cabo.” Gabe says, plopping down next to me on the white, leather couch that I’ve been occupying. My eyes do not leave the view from the window.

“Amelia.” He growls when I do not respond. I clamp my jaw down to keep my lip from trembling. I have absolutely nothing to say to him. I hiss when he fists the hair at the back of my scalp and pulls my head back. His eyes are dark, glistening with rage, “Quit being a little fucking bitch. I will not tolerate it.”

My nostrils are flaring as I work up the nerve. “We are alone in a plane,
Master
. Forgive me, but I thought that we are only
happy
when there are other people and cameras involved.” I respond, my voice is laced with venom.

The sinister smile that I’ve become accustomed to spreads across his face. Punishment is next. That’s what that means.

I feel like my head is about to be plucked from my neck when he jerks me up and slams my face into the soft, leather cushion. My body is lying across his lap, my dress is yanked up to expose my bare backside, and before I have a chance to plead my case, he is raining hard slaps down on my ass. I feel the tender flesh flush as welts spread across my tender bottom. He likes staying in the same spot for a while before moving on to another, ensuring that I cannot sit properly for days.

After twenty-plus slaps to each cheek, he stops and runs a hand over my burning skin. My chest is heaving as hot tears streak my face.

I tried not to cry.

I tried to be strong, but I’m no match for him.

He releases me and I shakily lift myself to a sitting position. The welts on my ass scream from the welcoming of the leather. My hair is sticking to the tears that have soaked my cheeks.

He looks so normal in the Hawaiian print, beige button up and white cargo pants. He’s beautiful. His inner demons are beginning to cloud that beauty, though.

He reaches out to touch my cheek, and I wince as I back away, the leather sticking to my sore bottom. He narrows his eyes at me as he crawls over my body, pinning me down. The weight of both of our bodies causes us to sink further into the cushion.

“You’re beautiful when you cry.” He says, tilting his head to the side as he examines my face.

“Lucky for you that you feel that way, that’s all you ever seem to make me do, Master.” I whisper, my voice shaking.

His lips curl up slightly as he looks into my eyes, “I’m a bastard, aren’t I?”

“I have a feeling that I’m not supposed to answer that.” I reply.

“Smart girl.” He whispers as his eyes travel down to my nearly visible nipple. My dress has shifted from the commotion.

“Just let me go. Please. Please just let me go home. I won’t tell a soul. I would never put my family’s life in danger.” I plead as more tears collect in my eyes.

He sighs as he sits up and runs his hands down my sides, “I will not do that, Amelia.” He pauses as he palms my thighs before bunching the dress up to my waist, “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. You are not going anywhere.”

I gasp as he ducks his head down and flicks his tongue over my swollen clit.

I’m just as sick as him, knowing what those hands are capable of, their touch still dampens my thighs with need.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Gabe

M
Y EYES STAY LOCKED onto her face as she mumbles incoherently. She wants to fight me so bad. It justifies her being pleasured by my touch. Her eyes are squeezed close as she comes close to her release. Her inner thighs shiver as the need builds up within her. She tastes amazing as usual as I dip my tongue through her slick folds, causing her to shudder.

The edge of the jewelry box that I have tucked deep in my pocket jabs my leg. Reminding me of what I will need to do.

Love is overrated. It’s been changed into something of monetary value. “
He went to Jared’s
!” rings in my ears, causing my lips to curl up. Perhaps the closest feeling of love that I’ve felt is for the human anatomy. A body which still pulses and pumps blood though it’s been ripped open, displaying the grisly scene to my hungry eyes. Though, to me, it’s not grotesque at all, but a thing of beauty. Watching smooth flesh being cut open, layers of skin snapping apart, revealing spongy fat, and blood running with heart pumping and lungs still expanding.

I’ve once peeled someone’s face off. She was vain, perhaps I am too, but the fact that she was really pissed me off. The muscles in her face would spasm and shiver. The way the strings of muscle moved each time she tried to scream was the equivalent of an orchestra playing their different instruments, making one song.

No. Love is bullshit. A weakness. You can still fuck someone; show them affection without love. I’m gambling here. I’ve never allowed a soul to know of my actions and live. Shit. None of my clients have even seen me. This will be the first time the mayor does, and it’s another chance that I’m taking for Amelia. I’m not sure what this is between her and I. It perplexes me. The need to possess her is stronger than anything that I’ve ever felt. If obsession and love are indistinguishable, then maybe I do love her. Otherwise, I’m just a sick fuck. I’m going with the latter. I could snap her neck and end this right now, but I won’t. Why? Because I’m obsessed with fucking her.

I sink a finger into her tight pussy and her walls greedily pull at me as the orgasm rocks through her body, her hips bucking in response. I climb over her and quickly free my erection. I hastily sink my cock deep inside of her. A mixture of sobs and gasps escape her as I start pumping into her.

“Look at me.” I rasp. Her eyes snap open. Their look of sheer hatred is not lost on me as I continue to fuck the shit out of her. I reach up and wrap my hand around her frail neck. Her hands fly up and pull and claw at my wrist.

“You. Are. Mine.” I growl with each thrust. Her face is turning purple as I empty my release deep into her pussy. I lean down and rest my cheek against hers before whispering into her ear, “Do not forget that, baby.” She’s gasping for air once I release my hand from her neck and sit up.

Don’t let Amelia fool you. She’s got a good poker face. She may have acted like she didn’t like it, but her come on my dick says otherwise.