Classic Novel
9
Ayla
10 days later
The parking lot at the Parker Springs Bancroft Hotel & Suites is almost full. I pull into a spot in the back, two big bags of groceries in the passenger seat, and sit there for a moment, finishing my song. I’m not looking forward to carrying those bags all the way through the parking lot to my room.
Song over. Time to go. I get out, take a grocery bag in each hand, and fumble around with my key fob until my pinky somehow manages to press the button that locks the car. By the time I reach the door to my room, both shoulders are burning.
I slide the key card and walk in, putting the bags down on the floor in my little kitchenette next to the fridge. It’s not exactlyluxurious, but it’s clean, safe, and comfortable enough for the time being. More space than I’ll have in my college dorm with a roommate, that’s for sure.
Over the last week, I’ve made this hotel room a home. I moved around constantly for the first few days, staying in a different place every night, paranoid that my father would find me. Now I’m starting to feel secure.
In exactly 20 days, the college semester starts. Until then, I’ll be here in Parker Springs. A safe distance from Bover City, but close enough that it won’t be too much of a pain to get to Bover City University when it’s finally time for me to move onto campus.
As I unpack my groceries, my phone buzzes with a text from Belle-Ann, asking where I am. She’s worried about me, and it hurts my heart to ignore her messages. But her father is a captain in the Gonzalez family, and my parents know that we’re friends. I trust my friend completely, but I have no idea who could be looking through her phone.
Anxiety buzzes through me at the thought. I reassure myself by checking for the 473rd time that I have the location on my own phone disabled. It is, of course. Turning off location services was the first thing I did, even before I left my parents’ house.
You’re fine. You’re totally fine. If they had a way to track you through your phone, they would have already caught you.
Cracking open a can of flavored sparkling water, I flop down on the bed and turn on the TV.
Wait.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.
My eyes fall to my suitcase, next to the bed. I still haven’t unpacked, just in case I need to be ready for a hasty getaway. But I usually at least close the suitcase when I’m not using it. Did I really leave it wide open like that?
Apparently I did. Or maybe room service came by, even though I hung the”do not disturb”sign on my door. Must be.
I sip my sparkling water, flipping through the channels, resisting the urge to sign into the family Netflix account. I don’t thiiiink they can track me that way, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
20 more days.
All I need to do is hold out for 20 more days.
***
I’m driving on the freeway when I notice a black SUV behind me. Changing lanes, I look into the rearview mirror and see the other car merge to keep following.
A sense of doom comes over me. This is it. I’ve been discovered.
Reacting quickly, I veer into the exit lane. It almost causes an accident, but the black SUV zooms past me. Have I gotten away?
But as I keep driving, another, identical vehicle turns the corner in front of me. And then another. Soon, I’m flooring it down the road, a sea of black SUVs all around. There are no other cars in sight.
The frat house. That’s my escape. My car screeches into the yard and I get out, sprinting inside and slamming the door shut.
They can’t get me in here.
The music throbs. Costume-wearing students are laughing, some of them dancing. Belle-Ann hands me a red cup and I drink. Then she kisses me on the cheek and nods approvingly, motioning to the staircase.
It’s what I’ve been waiting for.
I walk up the steps, my excitement growing. When I reach the end of the hall, I slip into the bedroom, ready. He’s on his way. He’ll be here any minute.
As his footsteps draw closer, I look down at my clothes. To my shock, I’m already naked. I cover myself with my hands, feeling vulnerable and elated at the same time.
A key card swipes the door and it opens. In comes the ghost, the man with the masked face. I don’t know who’s under there, but I want him. I want him so badly. Wordlessly, he guides me to the bed.
I’m whimpering as he climbs on top of me, his body so much firmer than I had expected. His hand reaches my neck and I gasp, the fingers wrapping around my throat.
Then his cock is out, and he’s holding my thighs as he slides himself inside me.
I moan, overcome. I’m not a virgin anymore. I belong to him now.
He fucks me in a blur and we cum at the same time. I can feel his hot seed pumping into me, filling me up.
Then he brings his face next to mine and pulls off the mask.
It’s Alessio.
I’m not angry. I’m not scared. I kiss him, and he kisses me back. Tenderly. His hand returns to my neck and I put mine on top of it, the ring on my finger glinting in the light.
Then my husband draws himself back up and begins to thrust. We make eye contact, and I feel like I’m his. Completely.
I wake up covered in goosebumps. Instinctively, I reach between my legs andwow, I’m super wet. I’m not sure what woke me, but I think I’m too horny to go back to sleep.
Clinging to the remnants of my dream, I allow a finger to circle my clit. I’ve been dreaming variations of that same sequence almost every night since I checked into the hotel, and I’m past caring how weird or fucked up it is.
The basics are always the same. I’m running from my dad’s goons, then I get railed senseless by the ghost mask guy, who always reveals himself to be Alessio. And every single time, at the end of the dream, I somehow know that he’s my husband.
The part that fucks me up about it is, when it ends, it’scomforting. Like in the dream world, being married to him makes me feel safe.
My breathing gets faster as I touch myself. I can almost feel his rough hands pinning me down, his muscular hips pushing in between my legs…
I freeze at the sound of footsteps approaching my door. Somebody’s coming back to their room late. I’m expecting them to walk right past me and down the hall, but instead, the footsteps stop.
The thin strip of light showing underneath the door is interrupted by two dark shapes. Clearly someone’s feet.
In that moment, I know what’s going to happen before it does.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles as a key card slides into the lock. The door opens and a dark figure stands there, silhouetted against the hall. I can tell who it is without seeing the face.
My body feels like a coiled spring as I stay frozen in bed, brain preparing for one thing while my pussy wants another. I’m torn by competing instincts. Under my pillow, my hand closes around the stun gun I bought years ago for self-defense.
Alessio steps inside and locks the door behind him.