Chapter 03

—Ellie—

Tristan leads me to a grand guestroom and tells me that someone will be up shortly with clothes for me, and then he locks me in the room and I'm pretty sure that there is a guard in front of the door. So i can't escape that way.

I check the windows but they are bars on them, I check the one in the bathroom but its to high. If i jump from there ill surely die.

I resign myself to the fact that I won't be escaping this night and have a shower. As I step out of the room in a fluffy white robe. I notice a bag on the bed, there's a blue dress inside, and i recognize the designers name this dress cost more than my rent, I can't wear this.

I put it back in the bag and leaned back on the pillows. My mind fought off sleep with fear. I knew I couldn’t stay awake forever. How long would it be until someone realized I was missing? I had two weeks of vacation.

There was a knock on the door. Tristan opened the door.

“Is the dress the wrong size?” he asked, looking at the blue fabric that was sticking out of the bag.

I shook my head. “It’s right.”

He smiled. “I know a woman’s body well,” he said, his brown eyes meeting mine.He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. He bit his lip and tipped his head. My pussy quivered. “Put it on then.”

Hypnotized by his Latin charm, I started to nod and reach for the dress. Then I blinked and shook my head. “I might be your hostage, but I’m not your sex slave. I want something comfortable and not revealing.” The words spilled from me at a startling rate.

Tristan looked surprised. His broad shoulders tightened, and his lips parted. He had full lips. I wanted to put mine to his. “Comfortable?”

I arched my eyebrows. “Yeah. Like a t-shirt and pajamas.”

Tristan ran a hand through his dark hair and laughed. Lord help me, he was hot. “Wear the dress or wear the robe. I don’t care.” He smiled. “Or nothing at all.”

He blinked, long lashes coming together. “If you want to eat, come downstairs. I want to know more about you, Ellie Morgan.”

The dining room was huge. It was dark and cold as I passed by the large, oak table. Everything was beautiful and must have cost a fortune. I could hear Tristan speaking to someone, words spilling from his mouth so fast I didn’t think I could keep up even if it was in English.

“Ellie,” Alejandro said, setting his phone done. “Sit.” He motioned to a table off in a nook off the kitchen.

“So,” he started, folding his hands on the table. “Tell me about yourself.”

I put my hands on my elbows and pressed my arms into my stomach. “Uhh…I’m an artist.”

“I already know that,” he said. His tone was authoritative and commanding. I was scared of him and even more attracted to him. In proper light, I could see that a five o’clock shadow looked absolutely fucking perfect on him.

“Tell me something else.”

“There isn’t much else,” I said honestly. “I work, a lot.” I didn’t see any point in lying to him.

“My best—and only—friend moved thousands of miles away, so I spend my free time watching too much TV and looking at funny cats on the Internet. I can barely pay my rent, and no one appreciates me at work.”

I put my hands on the table. “Now tell me something about yourself.”

He leaned forward. The width of the table was between us, but he felt close. My skin pririckled. "I am a bad person. I do very bad things. You should be scared of me, Eleanor Morgan.”

I swallowed hard and managed to nod. “I know,” I whispered, my voice weak. “Trust me, I know.” I tried hard to fight back the tears. Really, I did.

“I won’t hurt you,” he stated softly. My gaze dropped to his handsome face, and suddenly I felt safe.His dark eyes met mine. “Not if I don’t have to.”

“So what do I have to do?” I asked, voice shaking.

“You have to listen to me. Stay in the house, stay quiet.”

I nodded. “For how long? Forever?”

Tristan pursed his lips. “We will have to see about that.”

“I assume you are tired,” Alejandro said when he finished his meal. He wiped his mouth and stood.

“Exhausted,” I said and stood as well.

“Then goodnight,” he said simply and turned. “You will be locked in your room. Don’t think about escaping. That, I can promise you chica, will force me to hurt you.”

I dreamed about Tristan. In the dream, he burst into the trailer I had been thrown into, yelling at his men in Spanish. I couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying, but I knew he was there to rescue me.

With a gun slung over his shoulder and a little blood on his face, he was irresistible. He scooped me up and carried me to a bed where he threw me down, ripped off my clothes, and fucked the shit out of me.

I woke up with a wet and throbbing pussy.

My hand swept across the sheets, fingers slipping under the hem of the nightgown he had given me. I didn’t even realize what I was doing. My eyes closed. I let my head fall to the side when I touched my swollen clit.

Tristan’s words echoed through my mind. I flicked my fingers up. Yes, oh fucking yes. I pressed against myself again. The pleasure ran through me. I was already turned on, ready to go from the dream. I slipped two fingers inside of me and rubbed my clit with my thumb. I replayed the scene from my dream in my mind.

I turned my head to the side, curling the pillow around my face. I was so wet. The warmth took me over, and I came, the orgasm running down my legs, curling my toes.

And then I drifted back into a peaceful sleep.