A/N: I've decided to post this story back up. I just want to say I never not wanted to continue this story, it's just that sometimes it gets hard to write when there is so much negativity that surrounds something so personal such as one's writing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.
I do not hear anything or see through the darkness of the room. I am blind and my ears strain. Not a sound or squeak. Only breathing, but it is my own, shallow, my lungs collapsing in my chest. My nails bite into my palms, and my eyes tear, but not from the pain, but the unknown. Who is there? And where have they taken me?
I am huddled somewhere remotely small, and I can feel the closeness of walls, but when I outstretch my hands to feel something, there is only air.I am too frightened to move, for I am afraid if I do, something will come out of the dark, and...
I hear a small sound, and I set the outline of a door, light coming from behind the wood, slipping in through the creaks. Someone is moving, and walking, and then the knob turns.
I move back as fast as I can, my hands sliding along the splintered edges of the wooden floorboard, I cannot breathe. A man's head pokes through the open door, and is eyes search the bed alongside the wall across from me. His eyes move from the crumpled sheets, the paint-chipped walls, and then his eyes finally land on me. Huddled, with tears brimming, salty and dripping under my nose. My throat feels tight, and I cannot swallow, my saliva collecting on my tongue. But still it's dry with fright.
"Now, now. It's alright," his voice sounds familiar, but still I keep my distance, my thighs sliding on the waxy wood, the flimsy slip I had fallen asleep in what only seemed moments before, creeping close to the frilly end of my underwear.
He leaves the door open, the light from the hallway illuminating the small room, hand dropping from the doorknob. His shoes make a shuffling noise as he comes inside.
I shiver and begin to feel my stomach tighten, my mouth closing up but not before I sob the closer he gets. 'P-please, don't hurt me."
He stops walking, only for a slight moment before he continues with his steps, and soon I have nowhere to go. I'm trapped, a wall on one side, and a strange, faceless man whose identity is still hidden by the deep shadow of the corner of where I'm sitting.
"Now, why would I hurt you sweetheart?" He crouches down, and his knee is next to my thigh. He's so close now, I can't help the spasms that work through my body. He makes a sound that tells me to stop, and I still don't meet his eyes.
I stare at the chafed leather of his shoes, and the ripped hem of his jeans, blinking away the tears that blind me. "It's alright, you're here with me now," and with that, I feel his thumb rub away the tear that slides down my cheek, and then he tilts my face up by the jaw, before he slides his hand down slowly from my neck to my collarbone.
His eyes startle me. One of them is blue, and the other brown. I hold them with my own, and he takes the moment to search mine, and I see a hint of a smile on his lips. He licks them, and his eyes flicker to mine before back to my eyes.
"Bella," he whispers, and I feel his long fingers in my hair, stroking, and slipping through the roots, his nails at my scalp. "Don't you remember me?"
I don't. And I'm not sure if I'm suppose to. His voice, although, stirs something inside of me that does not agree with the slight movement of my head meant to say no. He frowns, and his hand tightens at the nape of my neck, only for a moment, and then he nods looking down at my calves.
He brushes the skin there softly, and then forms a grip around my ankle. "That's alright." I tense feeling the edge in his voice and I reach up to touch his wrist, taking his hand away from my hair.
"Have w-we met before?" I sound quiet, small, unlike myself. Trembling, but I try to still my motions, my chest feeling like it's going to cave in from the weight of the silence.
He doesn't answer, instead looks into my eyes, and his lips are bitten closed. He's holding himself back, for whatever reason, breathing through his nose slowly.
His look kills me. He is angry, and I do not know what I said. This isn't good, but I can't help but think he is acting irrationally. Well of course, isn't he a kidnapper? "Of course you wouldn't notice me with him standing there."
I don't know what he's talking about. Or who. Or where we could have both been or met. His cryptic words leave me more scared, thinking he has me confused with someone else, but there is no one else in Forks named Bella. And when he looked at me, he was certain I was who he wanted.
"I don't understand." But I don't need to. He has shut down. The intensity in his eyes burn, and they send a rush through my body, my words starting to catch in my throat as I open my mouth.
"I shouldn't have snapped. I'm sorry." he whispers and before I know it, his mouth is on my neck, and he breathes heavily, the sound of it escaping his mouth, tickling my ear. His arms are around me, and I am more confused than ever.
I'm not sure if I'm scared, or simply being more cautious as I try to return his touch, as though not to anger him. "It's okay."
I am cold, and he senses this and moves to stand, pulling me up from underneath my arms. The door is open, and I can see the light in the hallway, yellow and flickering. His hands leave my arms, and he starts toward the hallway, muttering while tapping the single light bulb that hangsuntil it stops flickering, and stays with solid light.
I pull down my slip, what little of it I can, and try to smooth out the wrinkles that cover my stomach from bending to sit. I look only to the floor and I am not sure of what to do. Should I run? But when I feel him come to my side again, I know it is not wise to risk an escape. There's no way that I can beat a man that has a solid hundred pounds on me. I will not be stupid when I finally manage to slip away.
He tilts my head, and brushes my bangs from my eyes, his warm hands coming up under my neck. "Would you like to bathe?"
I shake my head no, although, surely I would. But I can't. I do not want to remove my clothing not with this stranger in such close range, that might do horrific things to me if I did. I cannot tempt him, what I need to do is get out of here.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be in this bedroom the whole time, and you can lock the door if that's what you're worried about." His eyes are honest, and there is something that looks like hurt within them, but I can't feel sorry for him, at least not much more. I already feel sorry, with what terrible conditions he is living in, everything worn down and barely living in the old house.
I am not sure if I should accept the offer, and know instantly before I go into the bathroom, that there are no windows. He knows that I am not to be trusted, and when I turn to ask him for clothes, he sets them on the countertop without a word.
They are nothing that will fit me, but his. There is a simple black tee, that is long enough to cover well past my thighs, and a pair of cotton underwear that look strangely similar. And when I touch them, I realize, they are mine.
Pink, and covered with ice cream cones. I feel tears prickle at my eyes and lean to turn the shower on, knowing, he must have been inside my house, picking through my personal items without a care. The realization that there was an obvious plan to bring me to his home, kills me. He closes the door, and he does lock it, and I feel much safer with the distance when I hear the click.
I stir, lifting the the thin slip up and over my head, and let it fall into a heap at my feet, along with my underwear, no bra. The water is hot, and there is a humble piece of soap in a dish on the ledge.
I step inside, the water working into my ankles, and lower myself down, the ends of my hair becoming heavy with wet water.
I allow myself to breathe, it's the only thing I can control now, my heart still beating at an erratic rate in my chest. I don't ever think it will calm down. I go to close my eyes, when out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of something dark.
Under the door there is a tiny space, and I see his shadow, and then hear him slide down the door, imagining him leaning against it.
He does not move the entire time, and he listens to the small splashes of water throughout my bath, and when I am clean, I stand, and dry myself off with the towel that has a few holes near the end.
I pull on my panties and slip into the shirt he has given me, and towel dry my hair, until it falls down my back, still damp.
I step to the door, and knock on it first, and I feel him scramble to his feet, and open the door. I look down, and wrap my arms around my breasts, which I am sure he can see poking through the thin fabric, and step into his bedroom again.
"Do you wanna eat something before we go to bed?" he asks, and I feel his hand, light, on the small of my back, and he is leading me to the bed. I want to run away, but I don't even know where I am, how long I have been here, and if I ran, who else wouldn't do what he was planning to do, watching my run in nothing but a shirt down the vacant and eerily deserted street.
I shake my head no, and find that I cannot speak through my lips. I have lost my voice. It is stuck, and unmoving, in my throat. I hug myself, and the draft creates goosebumps on my legs. "Sure, sweetheart?" he asks, and tells me to get into the bed. He drapes the covers on me, and I cannot look at him. I am trembling. I press my face into the pillow below my head, and wait.
I hear the clank that his belt buckle makes on the floor, and the weight of his jeans. I am not sure if his shirt is off, until he comes behind me, and his arms pull me to his chest. "N-no.."
"Shh, Bella, it's only me. Only me." he says, as if that is going to in any way, calm me down. I start to breathe heavily, and he rubs my back, with one hand, his other holding my stomach.
Up and down, his motions his palm, and it is warm, and his strokes are long down my spine. "I'm here now, baby. I'll make you happy, I'll take care of you." He kisses my head, and moves his hand from my stomach, and strokes my wet hair. "It's all going to be okay."
I fall asleep with him, and when I wake, I hear him, feel his weight dip into the end of the bed, and he is putting his shoes. Leaning to tie the laces, the muscles in his back apparent in his shirt.
I blink my eyes, and rub them, squeezing my legs together, in a stretch. He hears my sigh, and even though I am so tired, and trying to fall back asleep, I feel his hand on my face. "Bella? Wake up, sweetheart."
I shake my head, and pull the blanket over my face, ignoring him. No, I want this to be a dream. Why is he still there?
But it is not, it's real. I feel his hand, cold compared to my heat, slip onto my thigh, and squeeze under the blanket. I immediately pull away, sitting up against the pillows.
He stares at me, his lips in a smirk, and his eyes, one blue and one brown, looked humored. "Now that you're up, get dressed. I'm making breakfast."
I stare at him, I am not sure how to approach anything he just said. Are we going to play at normal now?
"B-but." He shakes his head, and pulls the blankets from me, and I try to cover myself, but he just pulls me up. I'm standing, looking up into his eyes, transfixed.
"No buts, I got some of your clothes in the drawer." I shiver, and have no choice but to listen to him. I don't want to, but I am hoping that since he has some of my clothing, that maybe I'll be able to find a bra among all the other things. I feel uncomfortable with his eyes being able to see everything.
"That's a good girl," I hear him whisper, and his hand strokes the back of my hair.
It looks like he took my whole closest, and my bookshelf. And me. How did he manage without waking the neighbors? He waited. Charlie wasn't home. Then he snatched me up, and took me somewhere no one would look.
He lives on a farm. Alone. My heart drops when he leads me down the stairs, his hand tightly holding mine, and I cannot let go. Through the window, all I see is land. Dry, dead land. Nothing. No one. Anything. Can't help me.
Even if I ran, there's no where to run to.
I keep my eyes on the scratched table, and my fork pushes the food around my plate idly, back and forth. I am hungry, but I cannot will myself to eat. I just want to crawl into a hole, and stay there, in the dark, and never wake up again.
He notices my mood. He does not say anything. But continues to eat his eggs, and sip back some orange juice. I watch his Adams apple as he swallows, and I notice, now more than last night, the color of his skin.
He is tan, and his hair is inky black, short, but still with length. He catches my eye, and I blush, looking down back at my plate, and try to eat a piece of sausage without looking back at him.
I don't think I can handle that I am now alone with this man, and it will be a long time before there is ever a chance of leaving.
I feel his hand on mine, and he squeezes my fingers.
I am trapped.
"You know I don't know your name," I whisper, and feel him scoot closer to me, his wooden chair scraping against the flooring. He takes the fork from my hand, and I don't flinch away. He pokes my eggs and tells me to open my mouth.
This stranger is feeding me. Taking his time, and watching me open and close my mouth as if I am a child, and cannot do such a simple task myself.
"Jacob," he says finally after the plate is almost cleared. My toast has only one bite mark of mine, but he doesn't make me finish it. Instead he brings his mouth to where I have bite off a small piece off the edge, and does the same.
He licks his lips of any remaining feel of butter, and stands, clearing our plates. I squeeze my hands together in my lap, pressing them between my thighs, and listen to the beginning sounds of chirping in the distance.
Birds, awake, and making noise, signaling that the day has begun.
I do not offer to wash the dishes, and he does not ask me to. I sit in the chair, looking down at the wood in front of me that is the table, and follow the places where it begins to turn a dark color, and swirls again into a light mahogany.
His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he is quiet, thinking, the same as I. He says nothing, and I wait until I hear the tap being turned off to look up at him. He's a good head taller than Charlie, and then some.
I watch his dry his hands off on a dingy towel, and this his brings his cuffs down over his wrists.
"Come on, let's go outside." The word drops of his tongue so easily. Is it because he knows, there is only land? And running is not going to help, he would surely catch me before I ever found the end of land and into civilization.
I do not stand, in fact, he has to pull my arm to get a reaction from me. "Stop! I don't want to go anywhere with you!" I scream, and pull my arm out of his grasp, and feel myself start to run upstairs, hearing his heavy footsteps behind me.
"Bella! Get back here right now!" I don't stop, I stumble once, and land on my knee, the step sending a shooting pain through my leg. I start to crawl up and jog with a limp to the bedroom, and close the door with a slam. I sit against the door, and somehow try to figure out how to lock the door.
Unlike the bathroom, this is not a click lock door, but one where you need a key to open and close the room. I feel myself pull at my hair, and I start to sob. No. No, this is not happening. Nothing like this ever happens in Forks, if that's where I even am right now.
"Bella!" He throws his fist, hard and sudden against the door, and I try to push my whole body weight to keep the door from opening, the knob turning near my head.
His voice is scaring me. Everything is too loud, and too fast. I start to scream, and press my legs to my body, rocking back and forth. "If you don't open this door right now-"
I am not as strong as I think I am. I move away from the door, and wipe at my eyes with my hands, and I do not tell him it's open. He flings the door to the wall, and it hits it, making a sound that tells me it's cheap wood.
"Bella," I drops to his knees in front of me, and I feel his hand on my leg, and I whimper. "Honey, stop it." I don't though, his hand is putting too much pressure where it hurts, and I jump.
I push his hand away, my bangs falling in my eyes, but he takes this as pushing him away, fighting him. But I'm not, I have surrendered. He looks angry, and he takes my legs and pulls them toward him, and my back falls against the flat carpet.
"J-Jake stop, please..it hurts..my leg hurts," I gasp, and try to pull my right knee away from him. His discolored eyes soften, and his face changes. He reaches for me, and lifts my hand from my leg, and presses against it with his fingers, feeling the tender spot.
I squeeze my eyes, and the tears now flow freely down my cheeks. "Shh, sweetheart. I've got you." And with that, he does have me, in his arms, and I reach around to hold his neck to steady myself, and he pulls the sheets away and lays me on the bed.
I feel his fingers creeps down my stomach, and he undos the button of my jeans. I tense, and he looks into my eyes, but I do not dare say anything.
He pulls them slowly down my hips, and the pink ice cream cones peak out, and then I am cold. When my jeans are over my knee, I squeeze my eyes, and I hear him say, "I think you've sprained your knee."
He takes the cream, that is not really a cream, but more of a vaseline texture, and rubs it over the skin of my kneecap with his hands, slowly, over and over, making circles with his thumbs, and my hands pull at the sheets.
Everytime he goes over the bump, I tense, and try to pull my leg away, but he holds on to it tightly and shakes his head no. He's not letting me get away. He wants me safe, and better, in his bed.
I am not sure if he is angry at me, or disappointed at my behavior. "You shouldn't have done that, Bella."
You shouldn't have taken me.
I lay, and let him prop my leg on a pillow. There is an ace bandage wrapped around my knee, stuck to my skin with whatever medicine Jacob put on it. The smell of it burns the inside my nose.
It doesn't bother him. I even ask him, and he just shakes his head. How can it not? I'm about to choke. I breathe in the fumes, and it leaves an unpleasant numbing sensation in the back of my throat.
But I don't say anything. There is nothing that can make it go away. I'm in a room with no windows, or fresh air. I stare at the ceiling, at the off white paint, cracking and leaving lines of damage in the corners.
"Does it hurt that much anymore?" He asks, and kneels on the bed, tucking me in the bed with the soft worn blanket, fixing the edges so they are snug and holding me.
"N-no," my voice is still thick from crying, and I am telling the truth. It's not hurting like it was before. Now it's dull ache, and only if I am too sudden in my movements does it throb against the tightness of the beige bandage.
"I hope I didn't scare you Bella," he whispers, and I turn to look at him, finding him staring at his hands, wringing them and then placing them back on his knees in frustration.
"It's just that, I can't take the idea of you running from me again," his voice is rough, and I see him staring intently at his shoes. I don't know what to say.
"I won't let you." He turns to face me, and his eyes bore into mine. "If you try something like that again, you'll wind up with something worse than a sprained knee. Do you understand me?"
I nod. I don't have a choice.
I do not know when it is that I finally fall asleep from my emotional exhaustion. But when I wake I feel the covers bring taken away from my left side, and I blink open my eyes, feeling that they are no shape to stay open.
They blink closed again, and I am so tired, I do not even brush him off when I feel his hand feeling at my side, through my thin shirt. "Bella, " he whispers, and his breath is near my lips, I feel him kiss my jaw, and down my neck. "I've waited so long for you."
His hand, that feels of callas, slips under the hem of my shirt, and he is feeling my stomach. His touch is warm, and I shiver, his thumbs stroke just underneath my bellybutton.
But that's as far down as it goes, and he moves it so that he touches my lower back, pulling me to him gently, careful not to disturb my knee. "Jake.."
I lick my chapped lips, and try to open my eyes again when he says,"Shh, let me make you feel good."
His hand moves from my back, and slips through the underside of the elastic of my underwear, and soon his hand palms my heat. I try to move away, but he holds me down, and I see his hair, his face buried in my neck, sucking at my skin.
"No, Bella," he whispers, and lifts his head, to look at me, and his mouth is set in a hard line. I do not have time to respond when I feel his finger push through my lips, and sink deep within me. I open my mouth, and gasp.
"Let me love you."
We have not even kissed yet, and he has made me orgasm. He kisses the side of my face as I come down from my high, sweat beading at my hairline.
His hand is still inside of me, and he does not remove it. I feel the thick hardness of his length press into my hip, and I try to catch my breathing. "Oh, sweetheart, you're so beautiful when you cum."
I cannot say anything back. I feel my face scrunch up, and the feeling of the cold salt of my tears, makes my face itch. I itch everywhere.
I do not know what day it is, or even if it is day yet. But I know I've been here for many. My leg is almost healed, and I have a slight limp, but it's not that bothersome. Jacob helps me walk to the bathroom, and even into and out of the tub.
Yes, he has seen me naked. But it's has always been against my will. We haven't had full intercourse, but in the evenings, he takes it to himself to pet me. I can't refuse, and I find that sometimes I like it.
He is gentle enough, and takes his time, never being rough with me, only when I pull away. I don't that much anymore, I've learned my lesson from a couple of weeks ago when I did.
When I pulled away and tried to sit up, he forced me over his lap, and pulled down my underwear fully, until it fell below my ankles onto the floor. His hand came down hard, and left a burning pain on my bottom, he didn't stop until I said sorry.
Afterward, he kissed my reddened skin, and told me that it was 'for my own good.' I nodded like I believed him, and let him kiss his way down my body, until his my legs were hoisted over his shoulders, and all I could see between my legs was his head full of black hair.
He didn't stop until I told him that I was his, and only his. When I went to the bathroom after, it burned from where his tongue had been, and my urine was tingled with pink. It hurt so much, I found I couldn't possibly sleep.
Today, I can walk on my own, and I take my steps down the stairs slowly. This is the second time I have been downstairs since the first morning when I hurt my leg.
Jacob holds my hand tightly, and is ready at any moment, to support me. When my foot is on the floor, and the last step is gone, he kisses me on the lips, his tongue, moving with mine, and he smiles.
His eyes are lighter today, he is excited. He bounces me on his knee, from where I am sitting on his lamp, like I am a little girl, and I open my mouth, taking the piece of pancake gladly into my mouth. The syrup melds with my saliva, and leaves a sweet taste, even after it is swallowed down with milk.
"Today we're going to tend to the stables," he says, and I turn my head toward the window, and stare across the land, and see a small brown shed, with a white rectangle on the front.
"Like horses?" I ask, and give him my empty glass.
"Of course, sweetheart," he says, and when I feel him go to stand, I push my feet on the ground, and find balance by holding onto the edge of the table. He takes the dishes over to the rusty sink, and rinses them, before turning off the tap.
I watch him move over to the door, and take off his black coat from the peg. He stands behind me, and then slides each of my arms through the sleeves. The coat is big, but warm, and I briefly wonder if it's cold enough outside to have to wear a jacket.
The sun is out, and I feel a smile creep at the corners of my mouth. I haven't breathed in fresh air in what feels like forever. He touches my face, and I look up at him, and this time, I stand taller, and go on my tippy toes, and press my lips to his.
His hand threads through my hair, and he holds me there, while his other strokes the side of my neck. He pulls away, and pecks me, once, twice, three times. When he opens his eyes, I cannot look away.
"You're being such a good girl today, aren't you?" He leans his forehead on mine, and then kisses my head before feeling his pocket, for the keys to the front door.
I follow him.
He holds my hand, and laces his fingers through mine. We do not rush, and I ache from the walk. Jacob is slow, and careful, telling me to keep going. My knee will be alright, that I just need to move it a little.
The wind has a slight chill to it, but it isn't that cold. Jacob wears a light sweater, a blank stripe across the chest. It looks old and worn, but I do not say anything as we get closer to the farmhouse.
He takes the hook on the side of the red door off, and pulls the door open, and his shoes land on limp hay. There are stalls are mostly empty, except for a few who house horses.
I lean into Jacob, and watch as the one closest to me, extends his head. I know I shouldn't be afraid, but I am. Jacob shushes me, and reaches to stroke the horses face, and jaw. "He won't hurt you."
I am not convinced, and I step away, but Jacob takes my hand, and pours some oates into my palm and tells me to feed it. I look at him, unsure of myself, but he nods, and pushes my wrist close to the horses mouth.
He doesn't bite me. Instead the horse makes a snorting sound, and takes the oates from my hand between his teeth, and chews, his mouth moving in a circle motion with his jaw.
Jacob smiles at me, and kisses me on the forehead before putting his arm around my shoulders. "You see, not so scary after all, huh sweetheart?"
I am eager to feed all the horses, and after, I bush their hair. They are calm, and very gentle, although I am a stranger. Jacob watches, and tells me each other their names. The first horse that I feed, which is now my favorite, is named Seth.
While I touch each of the other horses, and run my hands over their necks, Jacob changes the hay from each stall, and puts in a new bowl of water, and fixes up some oates next to it.
I do not even realize that it is well into the afternoon until Jacob wraps his arms around my waist, and whispers in my ear, "Come on sweetheart, we've already missed lunch. Maybe we'll come out tomorrow together."
"Really?" I ask, quiet, but happy. He nods, and returns his coat back on me, from where I had taken it off and hung on the side of one of the stalls.
I whisper goodbye to the horses, even though I know they will not respond. I go to walk out of the farmhouse with Jacob, but when the door is closed, he hooks his arms around my back and knees.
It is a relief to be carried back to the small house. My leg is sore from standing on it for more than a few hours. And in his arms, I nestle my face into his collarbone, and kiss his neck as a sign of appreciation. "Thank you."
"Anything for you, Bella."
Back in the house, he carries me up the stairs, and lowers me to sit on the edge of the bed in our room, where he kneels and takes off my small boots. I unbutton his coat and fold it over my arm, and place it next to me on the bed before I feel his hands holding my stomach.
He lowers them, and unbuttons my pants, and slides them down my bare legs. His hand is a feather touch on my knee cap, and although his touch doesn't hurt, the spot is burning.
He kisses it, and I feel myself run my hands through his hair, unsure of why it is I'm doing so. "Jake.." He doesn't answer me, but continues his path to my thigh.
His hands spreads my legs, and I can't breathe. He takes my thighs in his hands and pulls me until my pelvis is pressed against his stomach. "Lay back, sweetheart."
I move back and lay in the center of the bed, and watch as he crawls toward me on his knees, taking his shirt over his head with one swoop of his arms. I watch the muscles in abdomen stretch and clench back into shape.
My head is lain on a pillow, and my curls are fanned around me on the material. I cannot breathe, how is this man so beautiful, but at the same time a kidnapper?
Our eyes lock, and now he is the one taking off my shirt. My bra, black, with lace lining cups my breasts, and opens in the front, the clasp in the middle.
He leans down and kisses me, fisting his hand in my hair, and I feel his nose press against mine, as he turns his face. I hold his forearm, and feel his other hand, so big and warm, cup my breast inside the fragile cup.
I moan against his mouth, feeling the small teaks of his finger on my nipple, and my legs are wrapped around his waist. His belt buckle dips into the beginning of my panties, and I pull away from him this time, struggling to breathe with such little space.
I feel the clasp being pulled, and the cups of holding my breasts fall away, my nipples like rosebuds along my skin. Jacob takes one into his mouth, and swirls his tongue on the sensitive peak, and my legs buckle from the sensation.
"Jake.." I can't help the small gasps that come from me, and when I feel his teeth on close around my flesh, I find myself pushing his head down, somehow trying to keep him there.
His hand travels from my stomach and dips under the hem of the panties. He pulls away from my breast, and suddenly I am bare. "Are you wet for me, sweetheart?" he whispers, and catches my eye.
I blush, and I nod, and I almost don't hear him whisper, "Show me." His voice is weak with need, and I take his hand, that is so much bigger than mine, it's almost overwhelming, and press it against my lips. His finger dips slowly inside, and I whimper when he takes his hand away just when I think he will pleasure me.
I watch fascinated as he takes his hand to his mouth, and licks it, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. When he opens them again, the look in them makes me swallow, licking my lips.
He gives me back his hand, and I guide his fingers back into my heat, and I moan. "Do you want me, baby?" he asks, but he stills his hand. He's teasing me.
"Yes.. please.." He pushes his fingers farther inside, but does not move them. With every breath I take, I feel his fingers so full, engulfed inside me, making my flesh throb and pulse for release.
My eyes close, and I am so filled with need I almost do not answer. But I have to. I want to. "Please, Jake. Please make me feel good," I use his same words from the first night, but he still takes his fingers out of me, and I feel empty.
I open my mouth to say something but stop when I see him unbuckle his belt, and unzip his jeans, rolling them down his muscular legs, not caring where they fall when they are off of him.
I do not look away from his brown, and blue eyes, and I let him take my hand when he reaches for it. He slips it under the waistband of his blue boxers and it is then that I feel the warmth of his smooth, thick, flesh. It is hard, and throbbing. So big, that at first, I do not think it will fit inside me. "You see how much I want you, baby."
He groans, burying his face into my neck, his teeth biting my skin. I hold him tightly so a moment, and then I begins to more my fingers and palm, back and forth, applying pressure to the leaking head with my thumb. "Bella, stop, I d-don't want to cum, yet."
I still my motions, and wait as he takes off his boxers, and suddenly I feel him, pressing against me, and the feeling, the feeling is lovely.
His hands hold my face and he says, "I want you to look at me while I make love you." He waits for me to nod, and I do. Our eyes do not leave each other, as he guides himself into my opening, my eyes tearing as he breaks through the soft lining of skin and takes me fully.
I have given him all of me.
I awake in the same position I am in when I fall asleep. Jacob idly holds my legs around his waist, and his head is in my neck. I lay below him, trying to breathe. I am sore, but as I feel his morning wood pressed against me, I am wanting it again. I want him again.
My hands trace along his spine, softly, and I feel him mutter into my skin, still asleep. I scratch along his scalp, and then feel his soft kiss on my collarbone, as he slowly blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and lifts his head.
"Sweetheart," his voice is thick with sleep. I don't have a chance to respond before, I feel him press up, and into my hilt, filling me whole, and striping me down. I think I smile while he thrusts inside me.
We make love several times that first morning, and well into the afternoon. I cannot stand by the end of it, and I do not try to after my first attempt. My legs feel like jelly, and Jacob smirks, carrying me over his shoulder, and into the shower.
He brings up hot chocolate after we finish dinner. Jacob decided to make streak, saying it would give me more strength from the iron, and some baked potatoes to go with it. I lay in bed, snuggling my face into the pillow, wearing nothing more than one of Jacob shirts.
I reflect over the past month, and cannot believe how so much has changed in so little time. It is almost unearthly to think I was sobbing, and turning away from Jacob, and now I had willingly given him my virginity that would always belong to him.
I feel his hand on my stomach, and I hum, asking, "How are the horses?"
"They miss you, they were looking for you today." He kisses my jaw, and I turn toward him looking at his eyes. They are honey melting, but something he has said unsettles me.
"Did you think of that before?" He looks confused at my sharp tone, and says that he doesn't understand. "Did you think of how Charlie would miss me?" I say my father's name, knowing well that Jacob must know who he is is. He is the chief of police after all.
"Sweetheart, calm down."
"No! Why did you do it?" I ask, pressing my hands onto the mattress, sitting up, I do not turn away from him. I stare straight into his eyes, and watch as his mouth tightens. How could he have done this to me, manipulated me into thinking that we could ever be more than the kidnapper and captive?
He answers by simply saying, "I wanted you."
"You didn't let me decide."
"If I hadn't taken you, you would have never given me a chance!" He screams into my face, his skin turning red, and his chest heaving. I feel my resolve softening, and my lip trembles.
I don't argue with him, but instead turn away, putting my head down on the pillow. And for his benefit, I say, "You could have tried some other w-way."
"Would you have really said 'yes' if I asked you on a date? Huh? Don't lie to me. I know you better than you know yourself." His voice mocks me, and I bite my lip, trying hard not to cry. He is tormenting me, and he doesn't stop.
"You were too busy obsessing over Edward Cullen to even notice me. Do you remember now?" He asks, but does not let me say anything. I feel him leaning over me, wanting to make me cry, "Do you remember when you had knocked into me, and dropped everything that you were holding? I helped you, and you didn't even spare me a glance. Too busy checking a text he sent you."
He spits his words, and I feel smaller than I have ever felt. I try to stop my crying, holding my hand over my mouth. "But guess what, you're never going to see him again. You're never going to leave, you'll always be mine."
He takes me then. And all I feel is pain. He holds me down by my wrists, his hands gripping so tightly, they leave red marks. I don't try to struggle, but I can't help myself from sobbing.
He thrusts, sitting on his knees, and moves his hips, back and forth, his eyes closed, his mouth open as if he was in pain. And he's groaning, moaning, feeling me wrapped around him, pulling him deeper.
When he cums, his hands loosen on my arms, he leans down, still inside me, and sobs into my chest. I do not console him, as he whispers, "I'm sorry," over and over, until his voice is scratchy. It breaks, and when he whispers that he loves me, I turn away, feeling his seed slide down my thighs.
I will not forgive him.
A/N: Please leave a review, I worked really hard on this, and would love to know what you think of it.