Bare

Chapter Two- Detox

Sitting upon a large dining room table kitty corner from the man keeping her captive, Gwen began to feel the effects of having been without her drug of choice. Her porcelain skin began to tremble as she struggled to remain still while eating the parfait arranged for her consumption. Although she had found herself in a gorgeous top floor apartment covered with signs of wealth from the chandelier hanging over the dining room table to the full marble floors set beneath her feet, she had been distracted upon her withdrawal. She couldn't remember the last time she had a meal that didn't come from a vending machine, but this item that had been prepared for her was enough to make her moan to its taste, trying to distract Deacon her reaction of being an addict. Finishing this edible item, she was then given a cup of coffee that she was told would calm her nerves. She was about to make a bitchy comment on how it wasn't her nerves but then she would have to verify her use of drugs. Not allowing this to he the case, she remained silent and took the mug in her hand before feeling an inner warmth as the aroma hit the base of her nose. Even though the food served to her deserved Michelin stars, all she could think about was getting her hands upon some of her coke. She began to tap her leg out of frustration, desperate to find a way to get a hit. She then thought of her phone, surely if she could get to it then she would have been able to get out. Even if that meant calling her employer. He was a consistently lustful man who saw those who worked for him as property...often exchanging physical attention for drugs as he had a hookup from his time in the city. Gwen had grown that desperate to where she would literally commit murder to attain some cocaine. 

"You can stop trying to think of a way to go…" he spoke, tearing her from her gaze as she looked to him with a confused expression. She glared to him, wondering how he could have known such things. "You don't have a very good poker face, love." His accent smoothed over the condescending context of the words he had spoken-but didn't change her reaction of having been annoyed. "You should take a shower, I had some clothes brought over for when you are finished. They are on the guest bed." He spoke upon dismissing her, having seemingly focused his attention elsewhere as she moved to the bathroom and complied with his suggestion. 

Her mouth nearly dropped open upon seeing the layout of the washroom. Everything seemed to be directly from a home decor magazine with the towels having been folded in perfect synchronization with each corner and appearing almost as a hotel instead of an apartment. The shower itself had stretched the entire length of one side of the bathroom. A long yet clear door held the shower upon the other side as a waterproof touch screen allowed her to turn the water on, as well as adjust the temperature. Along with this, the screen had also supplied a television show or movie per her request, finding it hard to not be blown away with her surroundings. The water from the shower felt incredible upon her body-especially her feet as she had worn four to seven inch heels every night. The tattoos of a more rebellious night had lingered upon her skin, having presented themselves as she stood nude in the bathroom. A single butterfly was upon her ankle with the word "dream" written beneath its wing. On her left wrist had been the word "believe" written in a beautiful calligraphy style font. As her final tattoo of a cross had been set behind her right ear. Aside from the choices of permanent ink, her skin was flawless and perfect to anyone who became close enough to witness for themselves. 

The clothes set out upon the bed were incredibly mature, consisting of a pencil skirt and satin blouse that made her pout upon seeing them. She was always told by women in her life that men would constantly try to control her. This seeming true by these clothes, she instead moved out of the bathroom in only a towel-unaware that Deacon had company. 

Her unparalleled physique was hidden by the puffy white fabric of the towel that cut off just enough before having been inappropriate. With her long hair having been forced up with a hairtue that was no longer present on her wrist, she stood appearing rather lustful. Droplets of water remained on her body as the aroma of Deacon's body wash had lingered upon her. The woman who stood in the living room, however, had looked to Gwen with pure disapproval. A look that could only he given by a woman of a parental standing. 

"And I suppose this is your latest trollop…" the woman spoke, sharing Deacon's European accent as well as some facial similarities-including the dimples. Before Gwen or Deacon could speak, his mother turned to her. "Don't take it personal, dear." She commented as if speaking those words would take away the sting left behind by her words. "Perhaps you can do more than feed the girl breakfast...considering what I am sure she is charging.." his mother continued upon insinuating she was a prostitute. 

"Excuse me?" Gwen challenged the woman. 

"You emerge in a towel without the grace of at least harboring a robe...apart from the dreadful tattoos and piercings." The woman shuddered while commenting on the nose stud placed upon the right nostril of Gwen. It was a perfect little sparkle that was actually an allurement for most-but not her. She saw it as a flaw. 

"Mother…" Deacon warned as she set her hands up in surrender before moving her body towards the direction of the apartment door. 

"You have so much going for you, dear…" she spoke to Deacon while setting her hand upon his mid-September shadow stubble that concealed his chiseled jawline. "I am dumbfounded as to why you choose such hopeless women…" before Gwen could defend herself, the callously honest woman disappeared from the apartment. 

"You will have to forgive her…" 

"I have to?" Gwen scoffed. She first saw Deacon as a bizarre savior to her, an angel concealed within a night club as she had been. She was struck by his looks and his he managed to make her feel safe yet imprisoned and aroused yet angry at the same instance. But now, she had only been torn down by his mother and made to feel like a failure as a woman, a lover, and a person-even though she hadn't touched Deacon in anyway close to s****l, although she wished to ring his neck at times. 

"She is very cross…"

"Understatement…" Gwen spoke before noticing Deacon having taken her in when he believed she was otherwise occupied. It was only a fraction of a second, but he had shown an interest in her that lit an excitement in her that she was unaware she had for him. She had spent her entire life wanting the approval of men and Deacon was no different. And yet, he was everything she needed. 

"I will have to eventually go to work…" she spoke upon moving towards the corridor where the clothes had been laid out for her. 

"Then I'll take you."

"Really, I don't need a babysitter."

He scoffed. "Are you sure about that?" He asked, undermining her attempt to be headstrong. In rebuttal, she looked to him with a deep glare. 

"At least I can admit when I am a screw up." She commented before disappearing into the bedroom and changing into a version of clothing of her own-having used Deacon's attire to not have to submit to his elegant submission. When she emerged she had been wearing the skirt he had for her, only the slit had moved all the way to her waist, giving anyone with the right angle perfect for seeing everything she tried poorly to hide. Using a shirt if his, she pulled it off the shoulders and kept the rest buttoned up, exposing just enough cleavage. When she emerged, his gaze froze on her for a moment as he was drawn by her creative ability to make her circumstances work for her. This and the fact she was sensual and teasing pulled at his lust, teasing him to drop being a gentleman and drop with her onto the floor instead. His mind immediately began to put together a vision of s****l scenarios to where he would keep her in place, relinquishing all the s****l tension through thrusts and moaning. 

"Deacon?" She called out to him while breaking his silence from the daydream he had unintentionally committed to. He turned to see the chef having asked to take his leave for the day before Gwen saw this as her chance to escape. With the window unmanned and her presence unsupervised, it was the perfect cocktail to escape. She was careful upon moving about, to not drag attention onto herself. Her fingers reached to the door in front of her before she realized the heavy nature of the door would give away her position-and yet, she was anxious to leave. 

Her steps raced before she could think, desperate to escape from her captor who made her uncertain if he had done what he did as a way to save her or entertain himself. She was able to see that he was gaining on her, his athletic build being obviously not just made for looks as he caught her within a matter of seconds. They made it about half way down the overall staircase that moved from the lobby to the roof via different doors that extended open on each floor. As she expected him to grow angry with her and even drag her back, she was surprised to find herself pushed up against the wall. A window overlooking the busy city sat just beside them as her gaze froze upon him. He saw as he grew close that she deemed nervous by this. Unaware if it was because of him being the closest thing to a stranger she knew, or from other dominant relationships in her past, he retreated enough to show he would not hurt her. 

His gaze locked upon hers, having froze in this moment while he brought his hands on the wall flat behind her. 

"What do you want?" She asked while trembling betwixt his hold. He was far too muscular for her to try and break past him and too nervous of what he would do if she were to try and scream. 

"You." She froze by his words, unsure if she heard him correctly. 

"I thought you said I wasn't your type." She corrected him as he scoffed. 

"I want you to dance only for me.. strip only for me….come for me." She swallowed hard-finding it difficult to ignore the lust that built up when it came to meeting his gaze. 

"I won't be owned by anyone…"

"We'll see about that…" he commented mischievously as he then pulled himself away from her. She was in complete shock from the words spoken and the actions having transpired. Regret from not having taken him up on his offer had filled her immediately. But then contentment when feeling as if he would chase her. The smirk upon his face that had been marked by his dimples were enough to make her own lips curve to a smile. She knew she had not seen the last of him, at least, she had hoped not.