Searching For The Maze

"Baby, calm down." What the fuck! She has gone completely still beneath Troy. Moving carefully, he rolls off of her to give her some room. What the hell just happened? She went from a nightmare to confused and aroused and submissive to panic and passed out in all of two minutes. Someone obviously did a number on this girl, and she doesn't know which way is up or who to trust. He gently turned her over to check her breathing. Her heart rate is slowing, and it probably won't be long before she comes around again.

Climbing off the bed, Troy steps into the bathroom to check his face. Sure enough, three little scratches from the side of his neck to his cheekbone. Damn, she's a little fighter. Hopefully, she got in a few scratches to the asshole that beat the hell out of her. He moves into the bedroom and cross to his closet to pull out four silk ropes. Tying her to the bed seems to be the best option to keep her from fighting or running and finding herself in more danger.

Moving her to the center of the bed and trying not to watch her breasts jiggle, Troy closes his eyes to get himself under control. He gently secure her wrists to the headboard and her feet to the footboard, so she is an X in the center of his bed. His imagination runs wild. "I am a class "A" bastard! All he could think of is getting her underneath him, putting his mouth all over her delectable body and savoring her for hours. Her vanilla scent permeates through his soap within an hour of bathing her daily, and he finds himself addicted to her smell. He desperately want her splayed out for his pleasure so he could spend hours lapping up her juices until she explodes in his mouth; to sink into her tight wet pussy over and over again until she screams his name. He needs to fill her with his seed and watch her belly grow is overwhelming. "Holy shit! What is wrong with me"? I have never reacted to a woman this way before, but I feel as if she is mine. I don't know why or how, just that she is mine.

Troy snaps out of his daydream, only to see Amber watching him with tears rolling down her face into her hair, but she says nothing. She just caught him staring at her on full display with his shirt covering none of her lower half and drool probably running down his chin. "Fuck me! No wonder she panicked. First, I rub my dick on her ass; now she catches me staring at all of her exposed intimate parts". He pulled the blankets up to give her some sense of privacy and hold out his hands in a gesture of surrender, but not before he catches her scent of vanilla. She looks up towards her hands and then back at him as if to say, "you perverted bastard."

She opened her eyes to see her dream lover/serial killer hovering over her half-naked body. "How can such a beautiful man be a crazed lunatic"? Glancing up, he sees her watching him and blushes; since when do rapists blush? The expression on his face as he was looking at her was that of a man starved, not one intent on causing her harm. Warmth spreads from her face to her belly and forms a knot in her stomach. Anticipation settles in her core and her body clenches. "Why is my body trying to betray me? Am I trying to give off the wrong signal? How can I want this man to take what no other man has had or touched? Maybe I'm the crazy one". Amber did have a gash on her head, so maybe she's suffering from delusions as well as amnesia. Then he does the unexpected; he covers her body with the blanket.

"Look, I'm not going to leave you like this; I just wanted to talk without having to hold you down and suffocate you with my weight. Like I said, my name is Troy, and this is my cabin in Kansas. You seems to be running or scared shitless of someone, and I want you to know that you are safe. If there is a person or people that you are running from, they will not find you here. I found you a week ago on my dirt road, beaten, bloody, and frozen half to death. I brought you here to care for you, not to hurt you. Do you understand?"

With her nod, he continues.

"Many times over the last week I have thought about taking you to a hospital or contacting the police, however, my gut instinct convinced me not to. I know that sounds crazy, it does to me, too, but finding you on my road in the condition you were in is suspicious. I don't know how you got there or if the person or people who did this to you might still be out there looking for you. Not wanting to take any chances with your safety, I felt it was best to help you heal so when you are awoke, you could tell me more about your situation. I am a Private Investigator, and I have a friend in the FBI that I will call too to see if he can help."

What he's saying takes a moment to register. Amber sighs in relief and try to speak except it comes out crackly. He leans over her to the nightstand to grab some water, and his rock hard abs brush against her belly and breasts starting the warm rush all over again. Her body betrays her as her nipples pebble under his shirt she's wearing, so when he leans back to help her drink, a small smile crosses his lips and lights his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't know my name. I have no idea if I'm running from someone. I have no recollection of what happened to me or how I ended up on your dirt road. I keep having small flashes of memory, but they don't give me enough information. I am scared shitless and a little out of my element being tied to your bed."

He stares at her as if she's speaking a foreign language and then moves to untie her legs. As he pulls down the covers to get to the rope binding her, he gets another full-on view, and she feels her face. He caresses his hand down her leg and loosens the soft rope to slide her foot out, although he doesn't let it go. He wraps both hands around her ankle and massages it as if to soothe any aches. Amber watched as he reaches for her other foot and releases it, repeating the same ritual and then does the same with her wrists. She felt a warm rush between her legs and know he could see it. His eyes zeroes in on her almost bare privates, and she felt her face turning beet red. Will he think I am a freak with not much hair? She hated body hair and had laser hair removal when she was eighteen. It seemed at that time most kids her age were running out to get tattoos. She was more interested in removing unwanted things from her body than putting permanent ink on it. Her eyes widened with that little bit of memory.

It is not disappointment she sees when he looks into her eyes; it's lust. He wants her and doesn't care that she caught him staring. She has no experience with this sort of thing. Sure, she flirted with guys but had never gone beyond kissing and a little rubbing− another little flash of memory. Yes, she's curious. However, the right guy had never come along.