Читать книгу Destined to Feel - Indigo Bloome - Страница 12

As I come to, my head hurts and my body feels heavy. I’m sitting up but my limbs are securely bound, restricting all movement. I am travelling smoothly through a crowd, people rushing in every direction. I can only see fast-moving legs and bodies and I have to look up to see into their faces which makes me dizzy.

I realise I’m strapped to a wheelchair. My heart pumps fast with adrenaline fuelling my fear as the clarity of this nightmare crystallises in my mind. I attempt to scream, only to discover it’s stifled, my mouth taped shut. I look down to see full-length black robes covering my clothes. I shake my head but my hair, nose and mouth are covered by the same material. Only my eyes are open to the outside world, one pair of petrified green eyes that can’t talk or scream; they can only gaze out towards the normality that surrounds them. Someone has dressed me in a burqa. I am horrified. It isn’t right to use religion in this way. No one can see that I am held captive under these garments. Amidst the bustling activity, I am completely incognito. I’m too low for people to discover the terror in my eyes and, anyway, they’re too focused on their own business to notice.

We glide through a security gate with barely a glance from the bored-looking female guard. I silently cry out to her as we pass, pleading with her to look directly into my eyes so she can detect something is fundamentally wrong. Efficiency and effectiveness triumphs over potential security delays as I am guided to the disabled access with a curt nod from a face lacking a smile. I try to struggle but can barely move as we continue our uninterrupted journey towards the platform and the awaiting train. I hear broadcasts in English and French announcing imminent departures. Oh god, they’re taking me out of the country. Jeremy’s tortured face flashes through my mind and a wave of nausea threatens to overcome me. I tell myself sternly that I will not be vomiting and, after a moment of psychological determination, I win the battle over my tumultuous stomach.

Reality slices through me like a machete. This is no game. This is exactly what Jeremy was afraid of during our last discussion on the beach at Avalon — his greatest fear realised. I have been abducted amidst of millions of people in London and it has been as easy as picking me up from the airport and wheeling me onto the Eurostar. No eyebrows raised, no questions asked. Simple and effective.

I am manoeuvred on the train and into a cabin. The person wheeling the chair leans over me, opens the front of my robes via a Velcro seam, unfastens the seat belt around my waist and frees my legs and wrists from their binds. Arms heave me up from my seated position and deposit me into a lounge-style chair. Before I can get a proper look at my captor, the person leaves the cabin, taking the wheelchair and closing the door behind them. I am left sitting alone in the small, neat cabin, although, thankfully, in my own clothes. My chair is next to a foldout table near the window with a tray of food and some bottled water. In the corner is a small cubicle with a toilet and basin. I immediately check the window but already know in my mind that the blind will be locked closed. I can’t see out and certainly no one can see in. I automatically check the door, which of course is locked. I feel more alert now and I bang against it in raging frustration. I sense we are pulling out of the station as I lurch a little on my already unstable legs. I can’t prevent the icy fear within my core. An uncontrollable trembling starts in the tips of my fingers before the feeling overcomes my entire shaking body and I collapse haphazardly back into the chair wondering what the hell is going to happen next.

My hand subconsciously grasps my bracelet, my fingers seeking the reassurance of the pink diamond chips and the Gaelic inscription against its otherwise smooth surface. Anam Cara — soul companion. I offer a silent prayer to Jeremy, to the universe.

Please, please let this bracelet work the way you said it would. Please be able to find me. I don’t know where I’m being taken or what they want with me, you never explained that in detail. Please let me be strong enough to survive whatever happens until we are together again. I need you so much.

I can only hope that he is true to his word and that he can track my whereabouts 24/7 anywhere in the world via this encoded piece of jewellery. If he can’t, how on earth will I be found? As my grip tightens around my only link to him, I try to subdue my rising panic by breathing deeply and reflecting back on our last night together at Avalon, where our lovemaking took on a whole new dimension that had never existed before, as if our paths were now spiritually connected somehow and the universe was conspiring for our togetherness. Well, it felt like it was for me at least … My fingertips fondle the bracelet as the tender memory attempts to calms my nerves.

* * *

After everything I have been through since meeting Jeremy at the Intercontinental Hotel, I know I have never felt more alive or sexually charged in my life. I can sense an iridescent spark within my soul that he has ignited and now will never be extinguished. It’s as if my life’s purpose is to ensure its continuous, growing flame. I feel like I need to become one with Jeremy like never before, take him to a place with me that’s beyond sex and almost beyond our love for each other, after everything he has initiated within me. No more experiments, swabs, blood tests, toys or restraints. No more recording of my hormone levels. I need to bond with him naturally, passionately — as two sexual beings connecting as one. There is now an intense force driving my sexuality as if it is has taken on another persona within my body. It’s impossible for me to deny and it propels me to take the lead with a man who doesn’t like to be led.

I silently take Jeremy’s hand, intuitively knowing words will diffuse the energy of the moment, and guide him purposefully over to the bed. There is something about the circular nature of this treehouse that gives me the courage to embrace the deep passion dwelling inside me and continue on my quest. He allows me to remove his robe with a raised eyebrow, no doubt wondering where I’m going with this and his fingers twitch by his side as he makes a deliberate attempt to remain still. The powerful force within propels me to take control here, so I deliberately remove my robe as well, leaving them pooled together on the polished floor. He visibly relaxes and his eyes glaze over as he soaks in the sight of my body. I can feel the heat rising between us. He awaits my next move and I know exactly where I want him. He allows me to position him spread-eagled in the centre of the giant round bed and he looks magnificent. I greedily absorb the vision, his presence and majesty almost disabling me. I take a few breaths to compose myself. I lightly kiss the softness of his lips as I carefully straddle his naked body, wanting my touch to be deliberate, not accidental. I gently raise my index finger to his mouth, cautioning him to silence. The look in his eyes acknowledges that he will concede his power, enabling me to take control when I know this is so difficult for him. He allows me to play with and stroke his firm, glorious body as he lays still, my perfect Vitruvian Man, surrounded by the white and gold sheets, surrendering his body beneath me. My heart swells with love for him; he is doing this for me, without moving, without touching me. Allowing me to twist and turn over his body, kissing, touching, sucking, at my own pace, in my own time, backwards and forwards, above and below. I love that he is the one and only person I have ever connected with in this way and I am finally able to experience what he has been able to elicit from me for so many years, time and time again.

I’m in awe of the sexual power emanating from our bodies and minds, and his willingness to give himself over to me. He tries to stifle his strengthening groans as my sensuous playing and exploring continues unabated and takes on new dimensions. My mounting lust fires my groin. The only movement in his body besides involuntary shivers is the growing magnificence of his phallus — eagerly awaiting the eventual attention of my hands, lips and mouth. His strength, patience and resolve is otherworldly as I lower my mouth over what’s mine and his groan can no longer be withheld.

I take my time, wanting him to build slowly, and allow my tongue to lick and play only gradually strengthening momentum. His body tremors beneath mine and I know he is close — as am I. My belly aches for the completeness only he can provide. I manoeuvre my body until he is perfectly positioned beneath me so I can sheath his beautiful cock. I open my legs over his hips to accommodate the fullness of his girth within me.

I notice beads of sweat on his forehead, perhaps from his determined stillness, or his burning sexual desire … but his hands refrain from touching my body as if he completely understands why I need this, why we need this. He doesn’t prevent me from establishing my own harmonious rhythm. I’m rapturous with the feeling of him surrendering himself to me, his strength penetrates my entire being. I love this feeling, the control he is conceding to me. It’s as if he is sharing his power, his manhood, his fountain of life deep within my very core and I can feel every thick inch of him deep within me. Our eyes meet as I continue my grinding rhythm against him. We are both so very close as he raises his head slightly, questions me silently, beseechingly. I can’t deny him a second longer, this man I love, asking for permission. I throw my head back as I anchor myself around his girth and grip tight around him. He immediately explodes with a fullness that is intoxicating. I collapse on top of him in a magical, spiralling state of complete euphoria. The slow burn, now liquid lava, intensifying our love and connection to each other as we hungrily find each other’s mouths and tongues, speaking in a passionate, silent, universal language of unadulterated sexuality, until eventually we lay still together, completely sated both physically and emotionally.

‘Thank you for doing that for me, I know it’s not easy for you.’ I smile lazily at him.

‘Thank you for the opportunity. I’ve never allowed myself to experience anything like that before.’

‘Relinquishing control?’

‘Mmm, letting you dominate. You know it’s not my preference but it was undeniably amazing.’

‘So why did you?’

A pause. ‘I did it because it was important for you and I will never deny you any sexual experience that you want or need. You know I’m all for you exploring and discovering every aspect of your sexual nature, even more so when it’s between us. And this seems to be a pretty important milestone for you, particularly after everything you’ve been through in the last few days.’ He looks at me quizzically. ‘Am I right?’

‘Yeah, you are,’ I admit. ‘It was as if there was a force inside me compelling me to take control. I’ve never had such a strong sexual urge before, so I just went with it.’

‘I can’t tell you how much it pleases me to finally hear you acknowledge that sexuality is a major part of who you are, Alexa. It just seems to have been buried and forgotten in recent years,’ he adds with a chuckle.

‘Thanks to you, Dr Quinn, I’m beginning to doubt whether I knew myself at all before this weekend.’

Jeremy snuggles me to him. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘A little light-headed but I feel so full, so content, safe and complete …’

‘My life is only just beginning to feel complete now that I know we are together,’ he murmurs.

Oh, and how wonderful does that make me feel … Our limbs are entwined as he spoons me closer to his chest.

‘I love you, Jeremy.’

‘And I you, Alexandra, more than I think you’ll ever understand.’

They are the last words spoken as I drift off into a beautiful sleep in Jeremy’s warm embrace.

I find myself in tears at the memory and in fear of the situation I’m in right now. My distress reaches hysterical proportions at the thought of what could happen to me, at my disconnectedness from Jeremy and my children. I’m a scared, emotional mess and I lash out at the tray of food that my stomach can’t remotely contemplate, sending it flying into the wall. This is truly a nightmare! What do they want from me? I rise unsteadily from my chair and get a sense of the speed of the train as I step into the tiny bathroom and splash my face with cold water. I would give anything to collapse into a bed and wake up in Jeremy’s arms knowing this was all a bad dream. After attempting to freshen up I make another futile attempt to force the door open, and then the window, but eventually I am left with no alternative but to sit in the secluded silence of this cabin cell with my own frightening thoughts of what might happen next.

The train eventually slows and I wonder if I will have to endure the humiliation of being tethered to the wheelchair again. I vaguely remember hearing about the burqa being banned in public spaces in France; I wasn’t sure whether this was the case in surrounding European countries. The door opens, startling me, as terror returns to shake my body to the core. God help me. Two large men enter the cabin, seeming to fill the space, not making any eye contact with me. A quivering mess, I can only remain seated in my chair, as one of them walks towards me. I can’t utter a word — I can barely look at him. He motions for me to stand. He doesn’t realise I’m frozen with fear and can’t follow his command. I’m hoisted roughly into a standing position and he hastily cuffs my wrists together. Oh, dear god. Some kind of gas mask is securely placed over my nose and mouth and I attempt to hold my breath, not wanting to lose consciousness again. Realising this logic is futile, I am left with no choice but to inhale, allowing myself short, shallow breaths, not sure what substance is infiltrating my lungs. The first man holds me still as the other attaches a container to my back, which looks like a bit like a fire extinguisher or small oxygen tank. It is carefully secured with straps around my waist and under my arms — my own self-sufficient breathing apparatus. My legs are efficiently taped together at both my ankles and knees and I feel myself becoming a little groggy. A warm softness enters my limbs and I go slightly limp against the man holding me upright. This warmth is actually pretty good and I feel myself relaxing. I remember this feeling from the dentist. Happy gas, nitrous oxide — it dulls sensations such as pain and makes you feel euphoric.

One of the men leaves the cabin briefly and returns wheeling a larger-than-average suitcase. As if on cue I get the giggles as my mind wanders and I randomly wonder whether it would be used to cart around outfits for Paris fashion week — that is, until he opens it and I am scooped off my feet and literally folded into the awaiting piece of luggage. It’s lined with some kind of foam padding. I am aware, in a detached way, that this is not good, but as I don’t actually feel too bad, it’s difficult to decipher any of my emotions about the whole situation. I attempt to dislodge the gas mask attached to my face, pushing against the foam material, so I can think more clearly but to no avail. I am tucked into a foetal position. I attempt to scream and struggle, sensing that I should, but don’t have a strong desire to muster the energy required. My body feels warm and rather heavy, but surprisingly comfortable given the position I’m in. Either way, I can’t move and the mask stifles any sound before it can escape. I can’t believe I’m small enough to fit in a suitcase; they’d never be able to do this to Jeremy, it would have to be tailor-made! The lid is closed, making my world once again black and if I weren’t so relaxed, I’m sure I’d be shaking violently with fear. I hear the sound of a zip closing and the suitcase is positioned upright. I’m silently thankful for the generous padding that softens my impending ride; I shudder at the thought of the bruises otherwise. The wheels are in motion and I have no idea where I’ll end up. I can’t see, I can’t hear, I can’t talk or taste or smell. What I can feel is an immobile body that is awash with relaxant. All I can do is just keep breathing.