Silent Daughter 3: Owned Read online

  He can see my hunger for him, and it has the same effect vice versa. We are egging each other on with our desire for each other.

  I love how big his hands are. I hadn’t it noticed before, but now that he is standing over me, stroking his impressively sized cock with one hand, while the other reaches out for me, it’s hard to deny.

  He leans forward and squeezes my left breast, pinching my nipple between two of his fingers.

  “I know you like to look at me,” he whispers. “But that’s enough for now. You have seen enough to know who’s going to fuck you senseless now.”

  I pant helplessly and want to disagree, but what good would that do?

  “Make room for me and turn around,” he orders. “Face down, ass up.”

  I sigh but follow his command.

  He climbs on the bed and places himself behind me, forcing me to spread my legs a little more by slapping the inside of my upper thighs.

  As soon as I do, I can feel his breath on my throbbing center. I let out an animal-like groan when his tongue moves along the inner side of my labia, moving up and down, dangerously close to my pearl. I don’t know if I can hold it in if he touches me there, but I am soon to find out.

  “No!” I exclaim when his tongue does circle my clit with unwarranted force. “No, I’m gonna c-”

  “Oh, no you’re not!” he objects and withdraws immediately.

  He takes the string of the toy between his teeth and slowly pulls it out, almost sending me into oblivion with the sensation. The toy falls onto the sheets between us, still vibrating.

  “You won’t come,” he threatens. “Not before I tell you to.”

  With that, I can feel the tip of his cock at my entrance. He is not wasting any time, but shoves into me with a single brute push, stretching my insides to the core. I have never felt this full before, this stretched and aroused. The feeling is indescribable.

  “You feel amazing,” I hear him say. “So fucking tight and wet.”

  He freezes for a moment, just letting me enjoy the feeling of his massive cock stretching me while the hook is doing the same with my ass. Slowly, very slowly, he starts moving back and forth, fucking me as if it was our first time. I greet every shove with a welcoming moan, but soon egg him on to move faster by moving my hips back and forth. He grabs me by the hips with his strong hands, squeezing my flesh as he starts fucking me the way I want him to. Hard, relentless. My whole body is shaking beneath him, rocked back and forth by his unbelievable power.

  Every time he thrusts into me, I can feel the ball on the hook inside my ass pushing against the wall between my two entrances. The pleasure almost borders on agony, and my need for release becomes more and more apparent.

  “You want to come, don’t you?” he asks breathlessly.

  I groan with approval, incapable of speaking.

  “Let’s do this right, beautiful,” he says, leaning over me so that his mouth is next to my left ear. His buff chest presses against my back, putting extra strain on the rope and thus the hook. I yelp, as the sensation borders on pain now.

  He gives me a kiss on the cheek and reaches below me, grabbing the pink bullet that is still vibrating. During all of this, he never stops fucking me for a moment. His cock works my core with the same brutality, stretching and pleasing my slick center.

  “Come,” he hisses. “Now.”

  With that, he pushes the vibrating bullet against my clit, and I yelp in misery, sounding as if I was being tortured when in reality it is sheer ecstasy that spreads through my entire being as my climax unfolds. Blissful spasms rack my body in tight, sensual waves. I am flooded with delight, and left blinded with contentment.

  My eyes roll back into my head, and I am only conscious long enough to feel him find his release inside of me shortly after.

  Chapter 11

  LEONARD

  Something is wrong.

  I squint, trying to realize where I am. Not in my own bed, that’s for sure. And I’m not alone.

  Bright daylight is peeking through the narrow slits between the curtains, painting the room with bright, thin lines of sunlight.

  It’s morning, early morning, and I’m not where I should be. Liz is sleeping next to me, curled up in my arms and naked, with her collar not attached to the hook. I’m in the wrong place, and she is not restrained the way she should be. Why do I even set rules for myself if I don’t intend to stick to them?

  I carefully remove my arm from underneath her and climb out of bed to get dressed and out of here as quickly as possible before she wakes up.

  Just as I am buttoning my shirt, I realize that there is something else that is not the way it’s supposed to be.

  I hear noise coming from downstairs.

  I freeze for a few moments to be sure and listen.

  Yes, there it is again. Rummaging, muffled sounds coming from outside the door. I furl my eyebrows and close the last two buttons of my shirt before I carefully open the door and check the hallway.

  It’s empty, but I continue to hear sounds from downstairs. Someone or something is moving around down there, not even trying to be quiet while doing so which suggests that it could be an animal. I’ve had a raccoon enter my house through that damn pet door the previous tenant added to the patio door.

  Just in case, I decide to be careful and close the door behind me as quietly as possible before I sneak into my office with equal caution. I hurry to my desk and open the small safe that is hidden beneath it, fetching the only gun that has ever been in my possession. I’ve never had to fire it, and I hope that it will remain that way.

  I open the door only the slightest bit to check whether the intruder may have made his way upstairs in the meantime, but it doesn’t seem so. I step outside, careful not to make any noise as I walk along the corridor until I reach the staircase.

  I lean forward and check the entrance area downstairs, but there’s no one to be seen. The noise is still audible, but it’s muffled, suggesting that it is coming from inside one of the rooms downstairs.

  I make my way down the staircase, holding the gun up in front of me to be careful. I freeze for a few moments when I reach the first floor, trying to determine where exactly the noise is coming from.

  My bedroom.

  The door is standing ajar, and when I approach it, I can see a shadow of something or someone moving around inside. At this point, I’m quite certain that it’s a person rummaging around through my personal space and not another confused raccoon, so I might as well raise my voice.

  “Who’s there?” I yell, stopping a few feet away from the door and pointing at it with my gun. “Step out immediately and show yourself!”

  The noise stops immediately for a few moments. Nothing, absolutely nothing happens.

  “Step outside now!” I repeat.

  “Why don’t you come in here?” a male voice replies.

  It’s the caller. The weird creep who has been trying to scare me on the phone.

  “Buddy, why don’t you show yourself so we can finally settle this?” I say. “It’s getting ridiculous, really.”

  “Is it?” he replies. A weak attempt at being witty.

  I have no patience for this, especially knowing that Liz is upstairs and in danger as long as this bastard is moving freely inside the house.

  “I have no time for this,” I say. “Either you have the guts to show yourself and step outside, or I swear to God, you will regret it.”

  I hear a hoarse laughter coming from inside the bedroom.

  “I’ll count down from three,” I add.

  No response.

  “Three.”

  Still, silence.

  “Two.”

  Nothing. I tighten the grip around my gun and release the safety catch, hoping that the audible and recognizable click will bring some sense to this idiot.

  But still, there is no reaction on his part.

  “One!”

  I don’t hesitate; I dart towards the door and kick it wide open before making
the stupid mistake of jumping into the room immediately instead of locating the guy first.

  He is waiting for me right next to the door and almost knocks me out by hitting me with what turns out to be the barrel of a gun.

  Stars are dancing in front of my eyes, and my vision darkens for a horrible second before I’m able to regain my balance and prevent myself from falling unconscious.

  Liz.

  I cannot lose this fight.

  I stumble and turn around, facing an ugly little creature, a small guy with horribly bruised skin and crooked teeth. He looks horribly spent, marked by substance abuse. I know him, and I was right with my assumptions about him. He works for the money launderer I did business with before coming here. I didn’t leave on best terms with those guys, but I have no idea why this particular one might hold such a grudge. He is no one, just a petty henchman with little power to decide and even less to speak. He fixates on me with gray eyes, full of rage.

  “Charlie?” I manage to say his name.

  He grins and nods. “Damn straight that’s me.”

  There’s pride in his voice. The fact that I know who he is makes him happy, but I still don’t see what brings him here.

  “Motherfucker,” he continues, adding no valuable information. “You fucking rat destroyed everything!”

  I furl my eyebrows. “I'm not sure what you're saying.”

  “You and your funny business!” he hisses. “You got your shit done and then just ran off. They killed most of our team, did you know that? Because we were fooled by you. All out, everyone gone. I managed to get away, but my life is over. I am running, I have to run. Forever! Where is someone like me going to go? What am I supposed to do?”

  I’m having trouble following, but get an idea of what he might be talking about. I worked with his bosses for years before I decided that I’d had enough of their shitty business and the things they found themselves involved. They were dangerous idiots, too stupid to make it in a world that asks for genius. I lead them into one final deal that blew up most of their operation. When he says that his team got killed, he is not talking about lives being eradicated but about careers beings finished. As far as I am informed, most of them were arrested by the police and the few who didn’t—like him—were on the run.

  “Didn't even leave a fucking trace,” he adds. “You know I should just deliver your sorry ass to the police! But would those bastards believe me?”

  Probably not, I think to myself, tightening the grip around my gun. I don't want to shoot this guy but the way he keeps gesturing around with his own gun while rambling worries me.

  “You,” he hisses, now pointing at me with his empty hand. “You're a fucking asshole. A clever asshole, I'll admit. A sneaky asshole.”

  He sighs and shakes his head.

  “Not leaving a single trace of yourself,” he repeats. “It's like Leonard Miller never existed. What do you call yourself now? Clark, isn't it? Interesting choice.”

  Clark actually is my real name, but Charlie doesn't have to know that. I have used different names in the past, changing my identity every time I got involved with people like him. It's better to be on the safe side, especially when the plan is to leave everything behind once the deal was closed.

  Whatever Charlie did to find me, it cannot have been easy, and it would be good for me to know how he did it.

  “How did you find m-”

  I’m interrupted by him yelling and coming at me with his hand up in the air.

  I get ready to fend off his weak attempt at an attack, but I’m distracted by a flurry of movement behind him.

  “Liz, no!”

  She ignores my warning and jumps at the guy from behind, not realizing that he is holding a gun in his hands. He grunts in surprise when she starts choking him by closing her frail arms around his neck.

  What the hell is she thinking?

  Even to a sick and weakened man like him, she is not much more than a nuisance, and he shakes her off easily, pushing her away from himself with such power that she stumbles backward across the room.

  Then, he turns around and points his gun at her.

  “Okay, the little missy first,” he says, and lucky for me, he saw it necessary to make this little announcement because it grants me with the one second I need to get between him and her.

  Everything happens fast: a split second that decides on who is going down and who isn’t.

  I jump forward, grabbing the arm with which he is holding his gun and bend it. He gives in surprisingly easy, but only to point the gun at me instead.

  The shot echoes through the house and a sharp pain shoots through my left torso right after I manage to land a precise hit on his temple with the barrel of my gun, achieving what he couldn’t. The guy collapses down on the floor as if someone drew all the life out of him with one breath.

  “Leonard!” I hear Liz squeak behind me.

  She tries to support me when I sink to the floor.

  “The gun,” I urge. “Get his gun!”

  “Leonard, you are-”

  “Now!” I interrupt her. “His gun! Get it!”

  She reluctantly lets go of me and hurries over to fetch Charlie’s gun that has slid a few feet across the floor. She hesitates for a moment before she picks it up, but thank God, she does get it into her hands.

  I look over to the guy to make sure that he is unconscious. He is lying on the floor with all four limbs spread out around him like a starfish. I don’t know if it’s coming from my punch or if he hit his head when he fell, but there is a small river of blood traveling across the floor.

  Liz hurries back to me. Her light bathrobe is soaked in blood on one side of her waist. My blood, I hope.

  I am down on my knees, pressing on the wound to control the bleeding as much as I can.

  Liz gets down on her knees next to me, her eyes wide with horror.

  “Oh my God, Leonard,” she breathes. “Are you okay? Will you be okay? Is it bad?”

  She puts her hands on my shoulders and looks at me with the sweetest horror and worry I have ever seen in anyone’s face.

  “That’s a lot of questions at once,” I try to joke, but she just shakes her head.

  “I haven’t even started, trust me,” she says. “I’m going to call the police! And an ambulance.”

  She wants to get up, but I hold her back. “You can’t do that.”

  She frowns at me.

  “Leonard, get over yourself!” she says. “I’m not going to wait until this maniac wakes up and let you bleed to death in the meantime.”

  “What will you tell them?” I ask. “About you being here.”

  She hesitates. “What do you think I should tell them?”

  “Robbery,” I breathe. “The guy broke in, wanted to rob-”

  Shit. My vision darkens, and I feel sick and dizzy.

  “It's okay,” I hear Liz's voice coming from afar. “Don't worry, Master.”

  The fact that she calls me Master makes me smile, even in my painful vertigo.

  “I’ll figure something out,” she promises.

  It's the last thing I hear her say before I lose consciousness.

  Chapter 12

  LIZ / Epilogue

  Six months later

  If it weren’t for him, nothing would be the way it is today.

  Leonard is walking next to me, the tallest and most handsome man around. He wears his suit and bow tie like a perfect gentleman. Only the thin lines of his tattoo peeking out at the top of his collar are a reminder that he is not like everyone else around here.

  He is scarred, dark, and twisted in his own little way—and I love him for that.

  William Bishop's business and family name was saved from a total disaster thanks to Leonard. I am the only person who knows about that and it comes as no surprise that my mother and my sister still don't like him.

  Fair enough. I prefer it this way. I will never be able to please them or be the person they want me to be; why would I choose a man the
y approve of?

  We enter the church among a crowd of other guests, some of which are casting us curious looks as they must have heard the stories. The story of how I ran away from home and was saved by Leonard who found me running around by myself more than a week after my disappearance and took me in and tried to convince me to return to my family, just as that crazy bastard broke into his house.

  How anyone could believe that story is beyond me, but they did. My family asked me once where I had spent the week, and I told them that I went to a motel upstate before I drove back but was unwilling to return home just yet. I told them that Leonard ran into me and found me in a confused state, only taking me with him because I strongly refused to go home.

  It is a strange story, but not too strange for my family and the police to believe. Besides, the entire neighborhood was too busy coping with the fact that some crazy guy with a gun—a man who was wanted by the police, no less—broke into this paradise of bourgeois boredom and tried to kill one of them.

  I’m the only person who knows why that guy, Charlie, went after Leonard because he told me everything. But for everyone else, this was just a random coincidence. He could have broken into any house, but he chose Leonard’s because it is so remote from most of the others. A simple robbery attempted by someone who had nothing to lose.

  “So, here we are,” I whisper as we take our seats in a place that neither of us feel we belong to. “And you’re still here.”

  “I am,” he says, stroking along my upper thigh, dangerously close to a place where no hand should be seen inside a church.

  He told me what his plan was, all of it. I insisted on visiting him at the hospital every single day and every minute I could be with him.

  He was stubborn, boy, was he stubborn! He didn’t accept me being there and kept pushing me away, refusing to speak to me and reminding me that he is bad news.