He shifted off the bed, the move accompanied by the sound of a zipper being undone and then he was back, his hands taking hold of the waistband of my panties and jeans to pull them down to my calves.
“There’s a good girl, you rest,” he said as he moved his hands to my bare knees and encouraged them apart, opening my pliant body up to him.
“Beautiful,” he said under his breath and then his hand was immediately upon me, toying with my pussy, his fingers slipping deep inside repeatedly while his thumb massaged my clit.
Back and fore, he worked me, his move so precise and erotic. I moaned faintly as the pleasure built within, the noise joined by the unmistakable pumping sound of his hand over his cock.
“There’s a good girl.” His voice was strained as his hands continued to drive us both in unison. “I told you I’d make it all better.”
I was vaguely aware of my body giving up to the tension, spiraling and shattering under his relentless rhythm.
“Such a good ... fucking ...girl!” The words came in time with his thrusts, the last leaving him on a groan as his cum spurted all over my naked thighs and torso.
Silence descended, save for his ragged breathing, and I listened as he fought to bring it back under control, trying to stay alert as to what he was about. But it was no good; I could feel my attention slipping, sleep taking over as my sated body relaxed into the comfort of the bed...
“There, that should help.” His words roused me but I had no idea whether I’d been asleep or not, I felt incapable of opening my eyes, let alone speaking.
“Now for that final pill. Say ah.” He lifted my head and parted my lips, popping the pill into my mouth followed by a trickle of water.
Dutifully, I swallowed it all down, grateful to feel the pillow beneath my head once more...
Chapter Sixteen
Iawoke with a start, my head a disorientated mess. Emma had haunted my dreams, her screams reverberating through my mind with no let-up. I’d been unable to do anything but listen, my body heavy and unwilling to do my bidding, my brain incapable of coherent thought.
But now I was awake, I worried that the noise hadn’t come from my dreams at all. The memory of them too real to have been created by my mind.
I swung my feet off the bed and sat up, my mind playing catch up as I tried to shake off the haze.
And then I remembered.
Everything.
It all came flooding back: James, my stepfather, Emma, Dr Tate ... I checked my clothes; they were completely fastened, nothing amiss. The doctor had been very careful to clean me up and leave me like nothing had ever happened. But then ... had itactuallyhappened? Or was it all just a crazy dream too?
With sickening confusion, I leaned over the bed and reached for the iPod, half expecting to find nothing. But sure enough there it was, the new recording ready for review. I pressed play and listened, skipping ahead to make sure I had captured it all.
It hadn’t missed a beat, every sordid moment captured with enough clarity to serve the purpose I had in mind. Before I ran the risk of losing it, I emailed the file for backup and gingerly got to my feet. I didn’t have time to wait for the remnants of the drugs to wear off, I had to get moving, I had to find Emma.
Heading to the door, I listened for anyone on the other side. It was quiet. My stepfather was probably content that I was drugged out of my mind. And if I was honest, I really still was.
Opening the door, the empty hallway was a welcome sight and I headed to Dad’s quarters in search of her. Every sense was heightened in fear of what I might find. I simply couldn’t shake the sound of those screams. I could only hope that their lucidity was the result of the drugs and my overactive imagination, that they had never actually taken place in this house, while I was incapacitated. My head swam with all sorts of ghastly scenarios involving my stepfather administering a variety of punishments, of Emma’s body bruised and battered at his hand, that I almost fell across the threshold to his room, my legs giving out beneath me. I caught hold of the doorframe to steady myself and kicked open the door fully.
The place was deserted; there was no sign of either of them.
Pushing off the doorframe, I drifted across the room, my sights set on the entrance to the dressing room reserved for my stepfather’s woman. I don’t know why I needed to see it, but the desire to be surrounded by things that belonged to her pulled me in. I held my breath as I swung open the doors.
The pain was instant, the force so strong it sent me to my knees.
The room was completely bare. All trace of her gone, as though she’d never existed, the sense of loss spearing me through the heart and turning my gut to lead. How was I going to find her? How was I to know if she was okay? Had my stepfather cleared out her stuff or had Emma got there first and made a break for it?
I hugged my arms around me, trying in vain to ease the pain. Now wasn’t the time for debate, whatever had happened I needed to get out of the house. Getting to my feet, I turned to leave, but the sign of a blemish on the otherwise immaculate cream carpet caught my eye. Alarm bells rang as I immediately hit the light. The mark was red, a deep shade. I dropped backto my knees for a closer look, ice racing through my veins as I realized my worst fear: it was blood.
He wouldn’t kill her, I quickly told myself, he wasn’t a murderer.
But how could I know for sure? I hadn’t taken him for a man to steal my inheritance either. And those screams, they’d been so real...
Shooting to my feet I raced through the house as fast as my drug-inflicted body would allow me. I knew I shouldn’t drive but I didn’t feel I had a choice. I had to track Emma down and fast. The only way I could think to do that was through Dr Tate, he must have a correspondence address for her, Emma didn’t live with Dad all the time. Grabbing my car keys and pocketing my iPod, I flew out the door.
