desperate, broken whisper, her throat so clogged with emotion that
she could hardly speak.
“Oh, you heard that, did you?” He shook his head,
disappointed that he’d read her so accurately. “The walls are even thinner than
I remember. I’m really sorry, but I just can’t let you go until I know for sure
that you won’t go to the police.”
“Then you’ll have to keep me forever,” she whispered,
“because I hate you, and nothing will ever change that.”
She brushed past him without a word then stopped short when
she saw Owen.
“Ah, the rapist has a friend.”
Owen winced and flushed, looking past her to Mason.
“This is my brother, Owen. I’m Mason Brady, by the way. And
you just admitted I didn’t rape you. We both heard you say it.”
“I pretended to admit it so that you’d let me go. And nobody
would believe him anyway. He’s an accomplice and your brother.”
“Damn it, Evelyn! This isn’t a game!”
She said nothing, but crossed to the table where her mobile
and card were lying and picked them up. Her shoulders slumped visibly when she
realized that her phone was broken.
“I’ll buy you another one. Any kind you like.”
She snorted and put the broken phone and card into her back
pocket.
“Did you get everything?” Mason asked Owen.
“Yeah, it’s in my van. Do you want me to transfer it to your
car?”
“No, it’s okay where it is.”
He turned to Evelyn and took a deep breath. This was not
going to be pleasant.
“Evelyn, you have to wear the hood again until you’re in the
car. I wish there was another way, but I don’t want anybody to see you and I
can’t have you signaling to anyone. If you promise not to fight, I won’t tie
your hands.”
She stood for a moment, staring at him without moving, until
he felt about two centimeters tall. Then, with a quiet dignity, she moved to
the bed and picked up the hood from where it lay on the pillows. Shaking out
the fabric, she pulled it over her head and waited, her arms at her sides.
He exchanged glances with Owen, who shrugged, then hastily
pulled on his black shirt.
“I’ll just carry you,” he said roughly. “It’ll be easier.”
His cock leaped at the opportunity to hold her again.
He picked her up and cradled her against his chest. She
resisted for a minute, rigid in his arms, then slumped against him. He left
Owen to lock up behind him and strode off to the car park, wishing it were
farther away.
***
Evelyn gave in to exhaustion and let her head rest on
Mason’s shoulder. She had never been so tired in all her life, emotionally,
physically, mentally. What a botch she’d made of convincing him she wouldn’t go
to the police. She needed to sleep and to eat something, and then she’d be
ready to fight again. That was why she’d submitted with such apparent meekness
to wearing the hood. She was glad he couldn’t see her face as she let her eyes
close, her head cushioned on a thick pad of muscle. He smelled good, clean and
masculine, of spicy aftershave and a hint of musk, probably from their sex.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her pussy was tender
and throbbing, and since she didn’t have any panties on, the seams of her jeans
chafed her, an uncomfortable and insistent reminder of how he’d invaded her. Her
breasts were also tender, her nipples painfully sensitive. In fact, despite her
shower, her body bore a hundred signs of his possession. She’d washed his come
off her inner thighs under the hot water, but she could do nothing about the
sperm inside her. She imagined it coating the walls of her channel, her womb.
She was on the pill, thank god, but pregnancy was only one of her worries. She
needed to speak to him about it.
She sighed. That could also wait until tomorrow.
“I’m taking your van, Owe, and you’re going to drive my
car.” They had reached the vehicles, apparently, but he didn’t put her down.
“You’re gonna let me drive your Range Rover? Fuck,
she could hardly speak.
“Oh, you heard that, did you?” He shook his head,
disappointed that he’d read her so accurately. “The walls are even thinner than
I remember. I’m really sorry, but I just can’t let you go until I know for sure
that you won’t go to the police.”
“Then you’ll have to keep me forever,” she whispered,
“because I hate you, and nothing will ever change that.”
She brushed past him without a word then stopped short when
she saw Owen.
“Ah, the rapist has a friend.”
Owen winced and flushed, looking past her to Mason.
“This is my brother, Owen. I’m Mason Brady, by the way. And
you just admitted I didn’t rape you. We both heard you say it.”
“I pretended to admit it so that you’d let me go. And nobody
would believe him anyway. He’s an accomplice and your brother.”
“Damn it, Evelyn! This isn’t a game!”
She said nothing, but crossed to the table where her mobile
and card were lying and picked them up. Her shoulders slumped visibly when she
realized that her phone was broken.
“I’ll buy you another one. Any kind you like.”
She snorted and put the broken phone and card into her back
pocket.
“Did you get everything?” Mason asked Owen.
“Yeah, it’s in my van. Do you want me to transfer it to your
car?”
“No, it’s okay where it is.”
He turned to Evelyn and took a deep breath. This was not
going to be pleasant.
“Evelyn, you have to wear the hood again until you’re in the
car. I wish there was another way, but I don’t want anybody to see you and I
can’t have you signaling to anyone. If you promise not to fight, I won’t tie
your hands.”
She stood for a moment, staring at him without moving, until
he felt about two centimeters tall. Then, with a quiet dignity, she moved to
the bed and picked up the hood from where it lay on the pillows. Shaking out
the fabric, she pulled it over her head and waited, her arms at her sides.
He exchanged glances with Owen, who shrugged, then hastily
pulled on his black shirt.
“I’ll just carry you,” he said roughly. “It’ll be easier.”
His cock leaped at the opportunity to hold her again.
He picked her up and cradled her against his chest. She
resisted for a minute, rigid in his arms, then slumped against him. He left
Owen to lock up behind him and strode off to the car park, wishing it were
farther away.
***
Evelyn gave in to exhaustion and let her head rest on
Mason’s shoulder. She had never been so tired in all her life, emotionally,
physically, mentally. What a botch she’d made of convincing him she wouldn’t go
to the police. She needed to sleep and to eat something, and then she’d be
ready to fight again. That was why she’d submitted with such apparent meekness
to wearing the hood. She was glad he couldn’t see her face as she let her eyes
close, her head cushioned on a thick pad of muscle. He smelled good, clean and
masculine, of spicy aftershave and a hint of musk, probably from their sex.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her pussy was tender
and throbbing, and since she didn’t have any panties on, the seams of her jeans
chafed her, an uncomfortable and insistent reminder of how he’d invaded her. Her
breasts were also tender, her nipples painfully sensitive. In fact, despite her
shower, her body bore a hundred signs of his possession. She’d washed his come
off her inner thighs under the hot water, but she could do nothing about the
sperm inside her. She imagined it coating the walls of her channel, her womb.
She was on the pill, thank god, but pregnancy was only one of her worries. She
needed to speak to him about it.
She sighed. That could also wait until tomorrow.
“I’m taking your van, Owe, and you’re going to drive my
car.” They had reached the vehicles, apparently, but he didn’t put her down.
“You’re gonna let me drive your Range Rover? Fuck,
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