Taken by Two

By: Sam J. D. Hunt



“Ah, you look nice, Princess. Much better with the war paint washed off.” His eyes roamed across my body. “The clothes fit?”

“A little snug, but yeah, they’ll do. Whose were they?”

A curtain of sadness slid across his face. “None of your fucking business,” he snapped. His large chest filled with air, and he slowly exhaled. He was trying to control his temper. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m here to chat with you because Nate the Kindhearted begged me to, and well, he can be quite…persuasive.”

“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Just drop me back in the States. I mean, they’ll be looking for me.”

He shook his head. “No one’s looking for ya, baby.” His dark stare bore into me.

“The bartender at my father’s club saw Nate leave with me, he’ll—”

An arrogant smirk slid across his lips. “No, sweetheart, they think you willingly left with a handsome ex-boyfriend for an extended frolic on the French Riviera. And as far as the bartender, well—I took care of him.”

I gasped. Hank had been a friend of mine for years, my confidant at the club where I practically lived every evening. “You didn’t!” I whispered as the tears sprung to my eyes.

“Penny—I assure you that Henry Joseph Harrington, bartender of five years, who lives at 2344 Desert Crest in Boulder City, Nevada isn’t going to save you. No one cares, no one is looking for you.”

I began to sob—I knew he was right. I had few friends and I’d burned through my family fairly fast after the calming presence of my mother was gone. My father tried—he loved me in his own way—but his business and new wife were his priorities, and I was left to my own devices.

I hated the mean King Rex Renton at that moment. Despite my glare, his deep voice began to speak again. “So, Princess, I have a business matter I have to attend to. I’ll be gone for a bit, and I’ve commanded Nate to not see you until I return. Maria will take good care of you—if you behave. Give her trouble, and I’ve given her permission to dump you into the croc pit. Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” I answered through my sniffles.

“Excuse me?” He stood and walked in front of me, his dark presence hovering over me, his massive fists balled in a threat.

“Yes, sir,” I sniffled.

“Better.”

“What did you inject me with yesterday?” I asked softly.

“Just something to ensure you behave, that’s all.” His large index finger pointed an inch from my face, “I don’t have the time or the energy for complications, Penny. Not even for Nate.” He left the room, the harsh metallic click of the lock on the other side reminding me of how helpless I was.

By lunchtime, my stomach was growling. A dark haired woman finally opened the door with a nod. She set down a tray covered in linen cloth, and in slow, trained English asked, “Do you need anything, Miss?”

I nodded. “I need to leave.”

“I cannot,” she said as she left.

I spent the next two days alone in the artificially cooled room. I was fed, but Maria spoke very little English. After dinner the second evening, I lay in a heap on the plush carpeted floor, sobbing and feeling sorry for myself. I was jolted from my self-indulgent cry by the opening of my bedroom door. I expected to see the dark-haired maid, but instead my heart began to pound when I recognized the tall, lean frame of Nate as he slid the door closed behind him, locking it from the inside with a key that he placed in the pocket of his slim jeans.

“Penny,” he cooed as he knelt down beside me. “Don’t cry, I’m so sorry.”

He held me tight, rocking me in his arms. “You left me,” I wailed.

“Rex said I couldn’t see you until he returned. I tried, but I missed you so damn much.” He leaned in and kissed me, his warm lips caressing mine.

“I tried,” he purred, wrapping my limbs around his. “I meant to stay away until Rex got home, but I’m drawn to you. I-I’ve never felt like this about a woman before.”

My lips found his again, silencing his explanations, his apology. At that moment, my yearning wasn’t for escape; it was for him. My tongue caressed his, the need flowing from me as he unbuttoned my shirt. “You’re so beautiful,” he moaned as his lips dipped down to kiss the very top of the lace of my bra. My full breasts heaved over the top of the cups—whoever owned this exquisite bra was smaller breasted than me. His eager fingers pulled the lace aside, the ivory flesh flowing over the strained fabric.

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