“My mind?” Natalie asked.
“Tell me what I want to know, and you’ll earn water. Tell me enough and I’ll even leave you a bottle. The water from the pipes isn’t fit for consumption. I’d hate for you to get sick.”
But you’ll kidnap, freeze, and starve me to death? Instead of saying that, Natalie nodded.
“Go ahead,” he prompted, “take a sip.”
As she lifted the glass to her lips she remembered his cocktail from the plane. Her hand stalled. “Did you…is this…?”
“Does it contain the drugs I gave you before?”
Her parched lips came together as she silently agreed.
“Will you believe me?”
It was a good question. She shouldn’t. “I don’t know. I suppose I have no choice.”
“Yet you’d ask. You hesitated. Why?”
She did as he said, answering honestly and not overthinking her response. “Because I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way it made me feel.”
Dexter nodded. “That water isn’t drugged. Go ahead and take a drink.”
Obeying, she was rewarded with a clear, clean, and refreshing drink. Each swallow lubricated her tongue and throat in a way the tea hadn’t. How long had it been since she’d had water? She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, and then there were the hours spent on the floor.
Natalie didn’t want to stop drinking. Dexter had said one drink. Perhaps if she never stopped swallowing, it would still be one. Her mind told her to put the glass down, but she couldn’t. It tasted too good. Now that her body had food, this was the other element to life.
The realization hit her: no matter how strange her life had become, she wanted life. She wanted to live.
Finally, she put the empty glass down, scared to look across the table at what she might see. Instead of anger, Dexter’s laugh echoed throughout the small room. “My bug was thirsty. Now then, I allowed you your reward before you did your part. It’s time. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking?”
He moved his head back and forth. “If I wanted a parrot, I would have taken one. I took you, a thinking, breathing, sexy, smart woman. I took you, bug. You’re now mine. Tell me how you feel. How…” He gestured about the white room. “…this makes you feel and your thoughts from the time you woke until now.”
It was a tall order. Exposing her breasts was easier than her thoughts.
Don’t overthink. That was what he’d told her.
“I’m scared.”
“Go on.”
“I was hungry. That’s better.” She looked around the room, suddenly realizing it resembled the images she’d conjured in her mind about foreign mental institutions. She wasn’t the one who was crazy. No. That person was sitting across the table from her, his arms folded over his wide chest, assessing her and her exposed breasts. “I’m embarrassed and quite honestly, humiliated.”
“Why?”
She fidgeted with the blanket on her lap. “I’m sitting here without a top. It should be rather obvious.”
“You’re mine. I’m keeping you. That means every part of you, bug. There’s nothing that should embarrass you. Baring yourself to me shouldn’t be embarrassing.”
“But it is,” she answered too quickly. “I don’t know you, and regardless of what you say, I don’t belong to you. I’m not your bug.” She shook her head. “I really hate that, too. It’s patronizing.”
His blue-green eyes lightened with amusement. “Well, that won’t stop. I like it. And as I told you, you’ll earn your name back.”
Earn. Why was everything earned?
“Now tell me,” he went on, “what proof do you need to understand that you do belong to me, that you are mine? Would a bill of sale make it better? A contract? I can have one drawn up, but essentially a marriage license is the same thing. The one we have now isn’t real. But one day.”
When she didn’t respond, he continued, “How about my intimate knowledge of your sexy body? Will that prove that you’re mine? For example, the way your pussy clenches even when you’re unconscious?”
Natalie gasped, squeezing her legs together. “Did you…?”
“Did I…what? Fuck you?”
She didn’t respond as tears filled her eyes. If only she could cover all of her with the blanket, her face and her head, and of course, her breasts.
“No,” Dexter answered, “I didn’t. I want the first time that I’m inside you to be something we both remember. As much as I wanted to…” He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “…and I still want to—I didn’t.”
A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “Thank you.”
More gratitude for things that should never be gifts: a blanket, food, and her purity. And then she remembered his words. “But you said you know how…how I clench?”
“One taste. I’m a man and you’re a beautiful woman. One day you’ll want me to taste you, to bury my face in your cunt until you scream my name. It was only one taste.”
Her head fell forward as more tears flowed.
“Bug?”
Her head snapped up. “Violated!”
Dexter’s gaze darkened. “I didn’t violate you.”
“You asked me how I feel. There, that’s it. Violated.”
“You were not. I could have. You were right there.” His large hand slapped the table. Plates and glasses jumped as silverware clanked and water sloshed. His expression hardened. “I could do it right now. Who’s going to stop me? Not you. Not anyone.
“You need to get that through your head. You’re now mine to do with as I want. Even knowing that you’re mine—at my disposal at any time—I respected you enough to remove your clothes, taste your lips, kiss your soft skin, and yes, take one small taste of your warm pussy.
“Do you know what you did?”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to know. The meal she’d eaten along with the tea and water were churning faster by the second. “No.”
“You instantly became wet. Did I want to be inside you with my fingers, tongue, or cock? Yes, but I didn’t. I’m not sure what other assholes you’ve been with, but when I do those things, it’ll be with your consent and for your pleasure.”
Her neck straightened. “None.” She wasn’t sure why she’d told him—why it slipped out—but she had, and she couldn’t take it back.
“None,” Dexter repeated her word slowly as the realization hit him. “None, no one?”
She shook her head.
“You’ve never been with a man?” He stood, the astonishment overtaking his whole demeanor. “Answer me, damn it.”
“No! No assholes in my past, no good guys either.” You’re the only asshole.
Dexter ran his hand over his face and paced a small circle. “Fuck. Fuck.” He turned her way. “No, you’re lying. You’re twenty years old. High school…college?”