Surviving Doctor Vincent: The Good Doctor Trilogy Book 2 (13 page)

“Please fuck me.”

“Where? I want to hear you say it.”

“Please fuck my pussy.”

With his open palm he smacked my wet sex.

I whimpered.

“Since this is your first time, I’ll give you what you want, but in the future, if you don’t come when I tell you, you will be punished.” He slammed his cock into me. Deep, punishing thrusts and hard slaps to my clit.

“What is the witness doing?” Sebastian murmured between thrusts.

“He’s stroking his cock.”

“What do you think will send him over the edge? You finally doing as you’re told and giving me your orgasm? Or do you think he wants to watch me come on your pussy?”

I didn’t answer him.

Punishing slap.

“Fuck...I think he wants to see you.”

“Do what?” A groan rumbled in his chest.

“Come on my pussy.”

“Good, because it’s going to happen.”

With two fingers he rubbed my clit hard. “I’m getting close, but not before you.”

He returned to tapping his fingers against my clit. “When I slap you hard you’re going to come. Until then I want you to think about that man over there deriving pleasure from watching us make love. About how at this moment, you are mine. That my cock is inside you, fucking you and there is nothing you can do about it, about how as soon as I slap your clit, your ecstasy is going to make two men come.” He groaned. “Look down and watch me fuck you.”

The sight of his cock disappearing inside me had me on the precipice. How it was slickened with my juices. How his fingers danced on my clit to the same rhythm.

“Now.” His hand raised and then impacted my swollen nub.

The sting gave way to rapture. I screamed. My orgasm claimed my body. My legs stiffened, I clutched my hands together and growled through gritted teeth.

Sebastian continued to fuck me through the waves of passion.

“God, I love seeing you come.”

I glanced over to see the man’s face twisted into a look between agony and pleasure as he spilled his seed onto the grass.

Sebastian pumped harder. “Oh, yes...” He gripped his cock in one hand, withdrew, pumped it furiously, and allowed the streams of thick white cum to land on my overheated sex. He worked his shaft until the final droplet dripped from the tip. He stared at me. His chest rose and fell with each rapid inhalation. “You’re so beautiful.”

I smiled while still trying to catch my breath.

Silent but for the chirping birds and rustling wind, we savored the moment. Soon the feel of the belt pinching my skin cut through the euphoria.

I wiggled, trying to make it more comfortable. Sebastian must have noticed the grimace on my face.

“Hang on, I’ll get you down. First, let me clean you up.” He tucked his cock back into his pants, zipped and buttoned them, before pulling a napkin from his pocket. He cleaned the sticky cum and wetness from my sex as he kissed me, and then he lowered my dress. “Thank you,” he breathed against my mouth.

He tossed the used paper into the trash and stood on the seat again to unhook his belt.

The man still had not left. His pants were properly fastened, but he leaned against the side of the gazebo. Sebastian paid him no mind.

The belt pulled tighter for a second and then my hands were free. My arms fell stiff into my lap.

Sebastian jumped down from the seat, threaded his belt back into place and then positioned himself in front of me. He gripped my biceps and massaged the muscles.

His prodding fingers eased the ache. “It’s important to spend time together like this. I don’t want you to ever confuse my dominance in lovemaking for anything else. There will always be respect and so much more between us. I might test your limits, but in these moments, it’s important I remind you that it’s my affection for you that allows us this.” He raised one of my arms and held my forearm in both hands, kneading the achy flesh with this thumbs. He inspected my wrist. His brow furrowed. “What’s this? How did it happen?” He ran his fingers over the bumpy skin of my wrist.

“It’s a scar. I was in a car accident a few years back. I was lucky. It was my only real injury.”

“That’s remarkable. I would have guessed it was something deliberate.” He turned it. “The pattern seems so precise, surgical even, but the pattern doesn’t make sense.”

I caught the man moving closer out of the corner of my eye. Sebastian pivoted toward him. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be this close. Show’s over. Move along. You know the rules. You’re supposed to leave.”

“Let me see it. I want to see her wrist,” he said in an unfamiliar accent. Eastern European perhaps?

Sebastian yanked me off the table and pushed me behind him.

“No. Now leave. I’m not going to tell you again. You know you’re not permitted to speak to the actors. They’ll take your band if they find out.”

Just then from behind us we heard a voice call out, “Sir, I’m sorry to bother you, one of the other patrons said they saw you come down here. Are you planning to come back to your table, would you like to eat here, or should I have your food packed up for you?”

Sebastian reached back and grabbed my hand. Backing us away from the witness.

I stumbled. Sebastian steadied me and turned toward the waiter. He reached into his pocket, pulled out several bills, and handed them to William. “Pack it up, we’re leaving.”

The waiter nodded and looked at the wad of cash.

“Lead the way, young man, we’ll wait in the restaurant.” Sebastian urged us forward but kept a cautious eye on the stranger in tweed.

From behind us, the witness called out. “What is your name? I have something to tell you.”

I paused to answer, but Sebastian yanked me forward. “Don’t look back. Ignore him.”

I whispered, but my voice was still loud enough for the waiter to hear, “What does he want?”

“It’s unimportant. We’re not staying to find out.”

The waiter opened the door, and we followed behind him. He stopped and turned to us. “If you wait right here, I’ll get your food. I had the kitchen keep it warm for you.” He disappeared between the two swinging doors.

Sebastian glanced back at the entrance to the garden. “This guy just doesn’t give up. Let’s go. He’s following us. We’ll stop to get something to eat somewhere else.” He pulled me toward the front of the restaurant. We passed the hostess, and he picked up the pace on the way to the car. He pressed the button on his key fob to unlock the door and opened it for me. “Hurry up, get in.”

I grabbed the frame of the door and slid into the car. He slammed the door behind me. Seconds later, he fell into the driver’s seat, pressed the ignition, and then threw the car into gear. The tires squealed and gravel pelted a nearby trashcan as we sped away.

Sebastian cut the wheel to the right, and I slammed against the passenger door. “Get your seat belt on.”

There was no room for negotiation in his command.

I reached for the strap but was thrown into the console, bracing my hand on his knee.

He growled. “Seat belt. Now.”

I managed to lock the buckle in place before the next turn tossed me against the door, again.

“What the hell is going on?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Stupid. So stupid.”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be protecting you, and I exposed you to some psycho. They must not vet people like they used to. But that’s not the thing that pisses me off most.”

“What is it then?”

“Intuition. The one thing intelligence training taught me was that when something feels wrong, assume it is. They talk about the perception of the unperceivable. I didn’t pick up on anything because I was so focused on you.”

“I’m sorry.”

He reached over and gripped my hand, guiding it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. He placed a soft kiss on the back. “There is no need to be sorry. I enjoyed the distraction. It just means I need to be more careful.”

“Why would he want to know my name?”

“Who knows. But there are rules. Very clearly defined rules. If this is reported to the club they’ll kick him out. A witness is never supposed to talk to the actors. Never. The difference between kink and crazy is adherence to the rules. Rules make it consenting and when they are broken, willingness gets called into question. The witness-actor relationship is similar to that of a real actor and a stage prop—necessary to enhance the scene but should never interfere. When stage props start talking...I’m so sorry, Elaine. I should have known better.” He beat his hands against the steering wheel.

“It’s OK. Nothing bad happened. Just a little...awkward.”

He squeezed my hand. “I won’t be so foolish with your safety again. We’ll stop by a market and pick up a few things and then head back to the cabin. We should stay there. It’s the safest bet.”

Marked

H
e pulled into a gravel driveway and patted my leg. “Let’s go and see what treasures we can find.”

I exited the car before he had time to round the front to open my door. I laughed to myself because the old weathered, wooden structure, with its rusted metal screen door, hardly looked like a place of wonders, but when he placed his hand on the small of my back, my mind drifted back to the activities in the gazebo.

He opened the door, the hinges creaked, and flakes of red paint fell to the ground when the spring attached to the top snapped it closed with a bang after we entered. An old man behind a counter folded his newspaper and sat up. “Good day.”

I smiled and inclined my head to the wrinkled, gray haired man with deep lines etched in his face. His eyes twinkled at the prospect of having a customer. Sebastian’s car was the only one in the parking lot.

Sebastian laced his fingers between mine and picked up a basket from the stack on the floor. “Anything you want, just toss it in here.”

So normal. Yet so strange.

He retrieved butter, eggs, and milk from the refrigerated units, produce from wooden racks, and a loaf of bread from a shelf at the front of the store.

I held the cold milk in one hand while Sebastian held my other. The old man wiped the glass meat counter. “Is there something I can get you?”

Sebastian leaned down eyeing the selection of poultry. “Yes, the chick...” He dropped the basket, scattering items across the floor—broken eggs everywhere. He released my hand. In the next moment, he bent down, fumbled with his pants, and when he stood again, a gun was in his hand. He trained the weapon on the man in the doorway.

The witness. Where did Sebastian get a gun?

“Don’t move.” Sebastian held his arms extended, with the weapon pointing at the man’s head.

The tall man with a goatee held his hands in the air. “Put the gun down, and let’s talk,” he said with an eerie smile on his face.

Sebastian stepped over the groceries on the floor, and eased toward the man. “I’m all for talking. Why don’t you start? Who are you?”

The man’s unshakable eye contact, and the smirk that pulled at the sides of his mouth, were more frightening than Sebastian’s reaction. I glanced back to see the storeowner through the glass of the meat case, watching the scene unfold, with wide, terrified eyes.

Our stalker turned his head toward me. “Better yet. Why don’t we talk about who she is? What is your name, beautiful one?”

The man put up no fight when Sebastian slammed him against the checkout counter and placed the gun to his head. “Why are you following us? Who are you?”

A defiant rumble of laughter left erupted from the stranger. “Kill me, and you’ll never know. But I’ll make you a deal... Tell me why she bears the mark of Charles Lemiux, and I’ll give you my name.”

“What?” I all but squealed the words. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Stay back, Elaine. Don’t come closer.”

“No. It’s not ridiculous. Your wrist is how Charles marked his subjects, but I was told they were all dead. You are very much alive. There can only be one explanation.”

I took a step toward them, and my shoe slid in the slippery egg remnants littering the floor.

“Elaine,” Sebastian warned in a low growl.

The man sighed. “Elaine. That is a beautiful name.”

Sebastian struck the man’s head with the butt of his pistol.

The man’s head thudded against the wooden counter, and he groaned.

“It’s impossible. I was in a car accident.”

The man’s voice lacked the gusto his words once held. “That is Charles’s mark. I have no doubts.”

“It was caused by shattering glass and part of the fence I crashed into.”

“You can believe what you want. When Charles chose a subject, he let fate decide if they were worthy. It was part of his ritual, and if they were strong enough to survive, they became his chosen. If not, he left them to die.”

I took another step, and my right foot slipped, causing me to brace myself on a shelf containing peanuts and potato chips. “This is so much bullshit. You’re just doing this to hurt Xavier.”

Sebastian chided, “Shut up, Elaine. Don’t say another word,” as he tightened his hold on the man’s throat.

On a breathy whisper the man chuckled. “Funny how she didn’t ask, Charles who? Or what a subject is? You don’t know what this means. She has to come with me.”

“What? You are out of your mind.”

Sebastian jerked and let out an agonizing scream. He released the man just long enough for him to slam his head into the counter. “Get in the car,” he shouted over his shoulder at me.

Hurrying, my shoes slipped again on the slick floor, sending me crashing to my knees. I caught sight of the knife sticking out of Sebastian’s side and crawled toward him instead of following his command to leave.

The witness wiggled out from Sebastian’s hold, fell to the ground, and reached into his brown tweed jacket, searching.

A loud pop sounded through the store, just before the witness jerked, letting out an agonizing scream and clutched his leg.

Sebastian held the gun steady, but trained it on the man’s other leg. “You’ll never take her, you son of a bitch.”

The man growled, “You don’t know what you’ve done. She needs me.”

Sebastian shot him in the other leg and then trained the gun on his head. He commanded, “Elaine...knife.”