*** This chapter begins with smut, so feel free to skip past a couple of paragraphs if you’re not interested! ***

“Get on your knees,” ordered Juan.

His warm hand gently stroked down the side of my neck as I lowered to the cold tile floor.

I batted my eyelashes at him, as my heartbeat swung back and forth between a stunned stillness and a lustful race.

He never took his eyes off of me, not as he unbuckled his belt, not while he struggled to unbutton his jeans, not even when his length overshadowed my face.

Juan rubbed the hard tip with the palm of his hand and ran his fingers through my hair. I parted my eager lips, placing one hand at the base and the other on his hip, and his erect member slipped in.

At first, I was scared to choke. I inhaled deeply, suckled delicately, and covered it with kisses and licks. Even though he had me down on my knees, this was still more of a tease than a full-on worship.

He bit his lip, stifling groans and panting breaths as my tongue ran up and down his skin, and my lips pressed softly around his length.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Take all of it.”

Yes, Sir, I would have answered, but good girls don’t speak with their mouths full.

He must have heard my answer in the docile look I gave him, when he glanced downwards and my gaze crossed his. His head tilted, his eyes rolled back, and his fingers curled around the edge of the bathroom sink.

He gripped the hair at the back of my skull, and with a short thrust of his hips, pushed a little further than I thought I could handle. I felt a rush of heat flood my face as my breath was cut short, and salty droplets of precum dripped down the back of my throat.

Juan slowly took a step back, smirking as he wiped the spit of my lips with the tip of his thumb. Two fingers beneath my chin were all he needed to command me, and bring me up back to my feet.

He led me back to the bedroom, and the hand he’d rested on the small of my waist slid up, cupping my breast and pulling it out of my skin-tight dress. His teeth nipped at my neck, and his hand wrapped around my throat to prop up my head. My breath hitched as the cold zipper of his open jeans scratched against my lower back.

“Look up,” he said, his fingers tightening with his words. “Look at that and tell me you don’t look pretty.”

I stared at the large mirror above his dresser. My makeup was smeared below my eyes, my hair was all messy where he’d grabbed it, and my mouth hung open, frozen between two gasps.

I thought I looked prettier than this when I had my hair and makeup nicely made, but Juan’s eyes were sparkling, he was nibbling his lips as if to stop them from going back to kissing my skin, and there must have been something else he saw in me.

Perhaps it was my glowing skin, my shy grin, or the way my lusting eyes stared at his reflection. Perhaps it was my rosy cheeks, flush lips, or the pink nipple peeking between his fingertips.

It could have been my squirming body, how my curves snaked under his touch. It could have been the sight of my tight little pussy, just below the hem of my dress, uncovered as he pulled my lingerie to one side, and slipped a finger in.

My stomach clenched and my throat tightened as Juan bent me over. He pressed the palm of his hand between my shoulder blades, pushed my head down onto the bed, and gently kicked the inside of my ankle to make me spread my legs.

His thumb teased my clit, caressing the tender, silken skin around it. My hips rolled, chasing his, craving for more than just teasing. Soon he replaced the tip of his fingers with the tip of his dick, and I let out a loud moan as he finally pushed in.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Wait, I don’t want anybody to hear us.”

I groaned as Juan pulled out, and he snickered at me.

“Be patient,” he scolded, bunching my hair in his fist. “It’ll take one second.”

I heard a metallic jingle, leather zipping against denim, then Juan leaned over me, pressing his length between my legs again. He slipped his belt in front of my face, tightly folded in three.

“Take this,” he breathed into my ear. “Bite it.”

His hands embraced the sides of my hips, and with every fervid thrust, his fingers sank into my flesh, leaving small red lines where his nails scratched my skin.

With each snap of his hips, my walls clenched tighter around his length, my back arched deeper to get him at the right angle. Stars shot across my vision and my mind went blank again.

In a heartened impulsion, his hand slapped my ass, and its audible echo shot across the bedroom. My teeth sank deeper into the leather belt, but I still let out a muffled squeal.

“Did I hurt you?” he worried.

“That was loud,” I murmured.

He paused, and warily looked around. The door was shut, the corridor seemed quiet. The only sound around us was a faint whistle of wind, shaking the roof above us, making the ceiling crack and the timber frames shiver.

I could feel his erection pulsing inside of me. I was nervous, for sure, but I was ten times more hungry. I pushed my hips against his, grinding up and down his long length. He let out a sigh and thrust one, slow and soft, as he placed the belt back in my mouth, and picked up his pace again.

Juan bore down on me, his strength and passion increasing with every yearning thrust. His sweat rolled off his chest and down the curve of my back, the taste of leather spread across my tongue, and a heat washed over me, bringing tears to my eyes and buckling my knees.

My core clutched him, pulling him deeper and making his whole body hunch forward. Juan screwed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth to silence his cursing tongue and heaving breaths, pushing into me until he finally released.

Still gasping for air, his eyes dreamy and smile all dazed, Juan fell down on the bed beside me. He gazed at me as he tried to catch his breath, keeping a hand on his chest as the other stroked his length.

He took the belt from between my lips, and admires the marks my teeth left in the leather.

“Look at that,” he crooned. “Another notch on my belt.”

I frowned at him. “Another?”

“I’m joking, Em,” he whispered. “It’s just a figure of speech.”

He raised his hand above my ass, gaining momentum for another painful slap. My whole body seized up, and Juan froze in place at the sight of my glaring eyes.

“I wasn’t going to do it,” he said. “Unless you want me to.”

“Uh-uh. Too loud.” I replied, shaking my head. “Once you get me out of here, though...”

Juan grinned. “I’ll take you up on that promise.”

*** Smut’s over, you can open your eyes now ***

His chest felt like a soft, warm pillow as I laid my head down on top of it, tracing the lines between his abs with the tip of my finger. My body curled up against his, like a moon crescent clinging to the starry night sky.

Juan left a kiss on my lips, then brushed back a few strands of my hair to leave another on my forehead. His fingers stayed tangled in a bunch of my messy curls, but rather than try to pry his hand out, he just left it there, and kept on gently scratching the back of my head.

Moments like this, where I felt little more than love and bliss, were few and far apart. Rocked by his steady breaths and the sound of his heartbeat, echoing in his chest, I shut my eyes and enjoyed the moment, even if it was just for a minute or two.

When I opened my eyes, Juan had pulled the blanket over my body to keep me warm. He’d nestled his arm under my neck, and his fingers still gripped tightly at the blanket’s tassels, to make sure it didn’t slip off of me.

He was already fast asleep, lying as still as a rock and almost as quiet, breathing deeply with a grin on the corner of his lips, like he was lost far away in a sweet dream.

I tried to slip out of his arms. As much as I wished I could have stayed there forever, I had to get back to Pablo before he woke up, and started asking too many questions. Juan groaned as soon as I moved. He turned around and yanked the blanket toward his side of the bed.

In a gust of air, the heavy curtains parted, letting in a bright sliver of daylight.

Fuck, I thought. What time was it? How long had I slept, and why on Earth didn’t Juan wake me up?

Still hesitant to leave the bed’s comfortable warmth, I stretched one arm across the bed and brushed the palm of my hand against the hardwood floor, searching for the dress I’d dropped there the night before.

Suddenly, my blood went cold. There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Juan?” I whispered.

He let out a low-pitched whine as I shook his arm. Whoever was behind that door knocked again, harder this time.

I heard the handle behind me creak, and almost fell out of bed. I gripped the edge of the mattress, frozen in fear, and watched as it slowly turned.

The latch jangled in the lock and the whole door rattled, but it stayed shut.

“Juan,” I said, keeping my voice so low it was no louder than a sigh. “There’s someone at the door.”

All he did was mumble, turn around, and burrow his head deeper in his pillow. I clenched my teeth, and stuck my freezing cold foot on Juan’s naked, stupid ass.

“What the fuck–” he cried.

I slapped my hand over his mouth, pressing my index to my lips as his eyes finally opened up wide. There was another knock on the door, and his whole body jolted upright.

“What do I do?” I murmured.

My heart was racing, every vein throbbing, and my skin and spine shriveled with shivers. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head, and I swallowed back a terrorized tear.

Juan’s teeth were chattering, his hands searching the bed as if the solution to our predicament was hidden under the sheets. The more I panicked, the more he did. And the more Juan panicked, the more I realized we were completely fucked.

The handle jangled again, and a hand angrily drummed against the door.

“What is it?” Juan shouted, finishing his question with an exaggerated yawn.

He tore my eyes from the bedroom door by laying his hand on top of my shoulder. He silently pointed toward the bathroom, and I answered with a nod. Crawling across the floor, I picked up my dress and shoes, and went to curl up beneath the sink. I shut the door as much as I could without making a noise, leaving just a tiny crack to keep a wary eye on the nerve-racking scene.

“Will you just open the door?” Manée’s voice pierced through the closed bedroom door. “Why is it locked?”

Juan, a focused frown creasing his face, picked my long dark hairs off his pillow case, like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Give me a minute,” he told her.

Manée huffed. “Just let me in.”

“I’m naked,” he replied.

“Since when do you sleep naked?”

“Since there’s nobody to tell me‘Ew, gross, your pubes are so prickly’,” he retorted, bringing his voice to a mocking falsetto, “every single time they’re in bed with me.”

I could almost hear Manée’s eyes rolling, like clear glass marbles scraping against her steel-sharp cheekbones.

“Juan, stop fucking around, this is important,” she hissed.

I heard the sound of something crashing, followed by an endless string of bilingual swears, and the sight of a half-naked Juan chasing a rogue lampshade across the room.

“What are you doing?” she asked, shaking the door’s handle again.

Juan swept his hand under the bed, probably to check if I’d left anything there. “Putting my boxers on.”

“Just open the door, I’ve seen you naked before,” muttered Manée. “It’s nothing impressive.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the door, as if she could see him through it. “You were impressed that time I did the willycopter.”

“The what?” she sighed. “Juan, this is urgent.”

He unlocked the door, opening it just a little as he glared at her through the crack, and stretched his arm across the frame to stop her from pushing it open.

“Urgent enough to wake me up at seven, but not urgent enough that you could have just told me through the door?” he mumbled.

“Emilia’s missing,” she answered.

My heart started beating so fast, I was scared she might hear. I recoiled away from the bathroom door, pressing my back against the cold wall, and wishing I could slip between the tiles and disappear.

“Where did she go?” Juan asked calmly.

“If anyone knew, she wouldn’t be missing,” replied Manée.

“Okay, well,” he groaned. “How exactly is this my problem?”

“Do you happen to know where she is?”

Juan scoffed as if that was a stupid question. “Why would I?”

“You were the last one to see her,” she said, a tinge of mischief tainting her whispers.

“Yeah, I saw her doing dishes before I went to bed,” he answered, still pretending to be nonchalant about the whole thing. “Have you checked the kitchen?”

“They’ve checked everywhere,” she told him. “Even the dependency.”

He hummed as if he was deep in thought. “Maybe she went shopping.”

“Pablo says she can’t leave,” she retorted.

“Why couldn’t she?” he chuckled. “It’s not like she’s a hostage or something.”

“I don’t know,” Manée sighed. “He says he’s scared she might be in danger.”

“Maybe we’re in danger,” said Juan. “Maybe I was right all along, and she is actually a spy.”

“Quit being a moron for two seconds, and let the guards in,” she hissed. “They want to check your room.”

“Why?” he scoffed. “Is she hiding under my bed?”

“Maybe,” she replied, and I could almost hear her smirking. “Or perhaps she’s between your sheets.”

“I know better than to fuck around with Pablo’s chicks,” Juan mumbled. “Just let me put some pants on before they come in. I’m, like, at full mast right now.”

He shut the door and a second later, he rushed into the bathroom, his face as pale as the room’s white tiles.

Without a word, he pointed at the window, and climbed on the edge of his bathtub to take a peek outside. He turned around to face me and stuck his thumb up, before waving me over to him.

He gave me one last kiss, so soft and quiet I wondered whether his lips ever touched my skin, and helped me up onto the edge of the bathtub. I opened the window, and checked the garden below in case Juan had missed something.

My fingers gripped the frame, and he grabbed my leg, hoisting me up and halfway through the small opening with a push of the shoulder. The sill dug painfully into my stomach as my whole torso hung out the bathroom window. I clawed at the bathroom walls before Juan threw me out face-first.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Grab my hand,” I answered. “I’m going to fall.”

One of his hands wrapped tightly around my wrist, as he placed the other on my butt cheek, and gave me another push.

I felt myself slip, and bit my tongue so I wouldn’t yelp as I fell to my death. I heard Juan gasp, a humph, and a thud. I didn’t fall. Instead, my whole body slammed against the wall, my shoulder twisted at an excruciating angle, and I could taste my mouth filling up with blood.

That fucking hurt.

“I got you, Em,” Juan chuckled, breathless as his two hands held tight onto my arm. “I got you.”

“Thank you,” I breathed.

He pulled me up, just enough that I could hold onto the window’s frame while I caught my breath and readied myself to jump.

It was a pretty big fall. There was one tall story between me and the ground, it could have been two in another home. Twenty feet high, maybe, not enough to kill me, but I would probably twist an ankle. I tried not to look down for too long.

“All good?” Juan whispered.

I nodded at him, and he flashed one last smile before he left, but I didn’t jump just yet. Although my fingers were burning with pain, my shoulder screeching for relief, and my head was about to explode, I knew this fall would be even more painful.

In the bathroom, just a few feet away from me, I heard the toilet flush and the lid slam shut.

“What?” Juan grumbled in the distance. “I was just taking a shit.”

As soon as I caught the sight of Manée’s hair strands swishing past the bathroom door’s opening, I ducked my head down. The longer I spent hanging off the window sill, the higher the chances someone might see me there. So I finally let go.

I’d seen it coming. I knew it would be painful, but I didn’t anticipate how bad it would be. It felt like someone impaled my legs with two sharp blades, shooting up from the soles of my feet up to my hips.

My knees buckled, my ankles bent like paperclips, and I bit my own fist to stop myself from screeching in pain. Silent tears rolled down my face, muted screams poured out of my throat, and I couldn’t breathe at all.

And yet I had to move, as soon as possible, before someone found me writhing and crying just below Juan’s open bathroom window. I couldn’t afford to pay for the consequences of my own terrible actions.

I’ve been through worse before, I told myself, as I got back up on my feet. I’d fallen off a cliff, been ripped apart by brambles, and still managed to escape from a gun-wielding psycho. If I’d survived a night in the jungle, bruised, blooded and alone, then this would be a walk in the park.

I was stronger now than I was then, so I ran. I ran as fast as I could, far over the hills, arching my back to disappear into the wild tangle of overgrown fields, ignoring the throbbing pain that spread from my knees down to my heels.

I had no idea where I was going, or what I’d even say to get out of this mess, but going nowhere was still a better plan than doing nothing, so I kept on running.

I ran until I collapsed, until I tripped on a rock on a downward slope, tumbled to the ground, and rose to my trembling, aching legs, spitting out blades of grass.

My body rested in a bed of flowers, gasping for air in the warm morning sunlight. Dust and shredded petals, victims of my frantic race, floated in the soft breeze and rained down on my face.

I thought of crying, but then I laughed. If I died before I got back to the house, the last Juan would have seen of me would be a close-up look at my big fat ass. And if they killed him too, at least we’d both die happy, after the night we shared in his bed.

Juan would be laughing too, after all. He never took anything seriously. That was probably how he managed to always be so happy.

I guessed whatever had to happen would happen, and that at least I’d made it out of the room, instead of being caught red-handed by the guards and Manée. I’d come up with something clever to tell Pablo, and he’d believe me like he always did. Still somewhat drunk on adrenaline, I got up on my feet and stumbled back up the hill.

The ground beneath my feet started to shake, as if beaten with hooves and rage. Two men, perched up on two horses, appeared on top of the hill.

“She’s over here,” yelled Pablo, waving his arm in the air. “Final-fucking-ly.”

“Is that her?” asked Oscar.

The two horses trotted over to me. I stood still, combing the grass out of my hair, wondering if the smell of Juan’s perfume still lingered on my neck.

“Yes, it is,” mumbled Pablo, looking down disdainfully. “Go back to the house and tell them to stop searching. I’ll take care of her.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Take care of me?”

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he seethed.

“I went for a walk,” I replied with a shrug. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went to watch the sunrise.”

“It’s way past sunrise,” Pablo muttered.

“Well, I was having a good time, so I just walked along the river, felt the breeze in my hair, the grass beneath my feet... It was nice,” I lied. “It felt just like being free.”

“Oh sure,” he scoffed. “Did you frolick through the fields and pick me a bunch of daisies, too?”

“Is that forbidden?”

Pablo cocked his head to one side, like a confused puppy, then shook it.

“Don’t fuck with me Gordita,” he mumbled. “You know this house isn’t well guarded. You could have gone far.”

“Well I’d be walking in the wrong direction, because if I’m not mistaken, the house is this way,” I replied, pointing a finger up the hill.

“Why did you run away?” he spat.

“I didn’t run away, I went for a walk,” I repeated.

Pablo rolled his eyes at me. “Okay, then why didn’t you run away?”

“What do you mean?”

“You keep doing this,” he hissed. “You walk off for a couple hours, and then crawl home to me and make up some dumb excuse.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I sighed, hoping I sounded confident enough. “I mean, Pablo, wasn’t this the whole point of Emilia? That I could live a semi-normal life, doing my own thing, without having to be locked up in a room, as long as I don’t tell anybody what you did to me?”

I heard my voice crack once or twice, and I prayed he wouldn’t notice, let alone see right through my lies. His nose scrunched up like a snarling snout, and then his face relaxed.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Then what’s wrong with me going on a walk through the garden?”

“It’s just not very compelling, is it,” he grumbled.

I dismissed his words with a flick of the hand, like he always did with mine. “Compelling or not, I’m right here, with you, walking back to the house. So whatever someone else might have told you, the proof is right beneath your eyes. I didn’t run away.”

“Let’s just get back to the house,” he said. “We’ll discuss this later.”

He stared down his nose at me, his lips pinched and curving downwards, walking three steps ahead of me the whole time. If only he had a lasso to match his silly cowboy boots and hat, I’m sure he would have tied it around me, and dragged me behind his horse all the way back.

Pablo ordered me to wait for him on the patio while he brought his horse back to the stables. He wagged his finger at me, at first like you’d do to a child. Then he told me to sit, as if I was nothing but his disobedient bitch.

I didn’t want to obey, but my legs were still sore, so I sat down in a chair by the kitchen door. Juan almost tripped over me as he ran out of the house.

“Fuck, Em, you scared me,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

His face hadn’t regained much color since the last time I’d seen him. The veins in arms and neck were swollen and pulsating from how long he’d been clenching his fists and jaw.

“Is everything alright?” I murmured.

He tried to say something, and the word never came out. He bit his lip and swallowed it back. When I frowned at him, Juan gave me a cold smile.

“Yeah,” he answered.

He walked away and disappeared around the house, just as Pablo came back.

I pressed my step as I walked past Juan’sroom, in the upstairs corridor. I was aching to check if the guards were still there, scanning every corner to find a piece of my DNA, but I didn’t want to get caught searching for answers to questions I wasn’t supposed to know.

Pablo shut the bedroom door behind him, trapping me in the same corner where he’d wrapped his hand around my throat.

“What changed?” he asked me.

“Huh?”

He let out a sigh. “Why wouldn’t you run?”

“I guess... I don’t know,” I stuttered. “I think once or twice you told me that it was a long way home when I don’t have a home to go to, and I’ve just finally figured out you were right.”

Pablo stayed silent, and stared at me without ever blinking.

“I’ve tried to leave a few times, when I was scared or hurt,” I continued. “And every time I did and failed, things here got worse. But no matter how bad things get, you’ve still given me more than anyone else ever has.”

I scraped my tongue against my teeth. I wanted to drink battery acid to erase the taste of those words in my mouth.

“You’re all I have, Pablo,” I lied. “So why would I get rid of that?”

I backed out of the corner, seeking for fresh air a few steps further. His eyes followed me around the room, as a frigid smile twisted his lips. He was like a murderous Mona Lisa, as unsettling as he was enigmatic.

“You’re too sweet, Gordita,” he whispered.

He walked up to me and caught me again, wrapping his hands around my waist, his arms squeezing the breath out of me like an anaconda. He left a kiss on the corner of my lips, and the hairs of his mustache stabbed me like a hundred needles.

“You better thank God I’m in love,” he whispered in my ear. “And pray to him for the others to believe you.”

Juan wasn’t there at lunch. Nobody seemed to worry or question it, and so I stayed quiet. Perhaps he was just napping to recover from everything that had just happened to him, and frankly, I wished I could have done the same thing.

“You gave us a great big scare this morning,” Hernan told me.

Everyone’s eyes turned to me, and I slowly stopped chewing on my food, swallowing it down with a painful gulp.

“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing at Pablo mid-sentence. “If I knew I would have caused so much trouble, I would have just stayed in bed.”

“I’ve never seen your boyfriend look so distressed,” Hernan added.

There was no grin on his face, no emotion in his traits, just a mysterious glint in his cold gunmetal eyes.

“He just can’t live without me,” I answered with a nervous chuckle.

Pablo laughed out loud, slapping me in the back like he was trying to dislodge something from my trachea. Oscar joined in to make it more convincing, and then so did Andrea, while I clenched my teeth behind a fake smile.

Juan didn’t show up for the whole afternoon. I wondered where he was, but couldn’t really ask. I wasn’t supposed to care about that guy. Pablo never left me on my own, and yet I still felt lonely.

I couldn’t help but feel like Juan had ditched me. I wished we could have found a moment alone, for him to leave another kiss in the crook of my neck, tell me how good our night together felt, and reassure me that no one had found anything, but he was nowhere in sight.

He’d ghosted me, like a one-night stand that vanishes in the morning, leaving behind no more than blurry memories and a wrinkly outline in your bedsheets.

Why was it that when I went missing for five minutes, they all but called the army, but Juan could disappear for an entire day, and people pretended like he was never even there? And if he’d gone someplace else, why didn’t he care enough to tell me where?

I was spiraling again, and as usual, the world around me stood still as if nothing ever happened. It felt like everyone knew where Juan was, except for me.

Maybe Juan was gone. Maybe he had some kind of fucked-up post-nut clarity, and realized this wasn’t the life he wanted–to be spied on, controlled, heavily guarded. Maybe he felt he was in danger, too close to being caught, and no longer felt safe here. But if that was so, why wouldn’t he take me with him?

The sun set below the horizon, and he never showed up. Those that were left gathered for dinner, and I’d spent the whole day in the dark, resisting the urge to beg people for answers, consumed with a thousand different thoughts about Juan.

The wine in my glass shivered between my shaky fingers. My stomach started churning even before I took a bite of my entrée.

“Isn’t Juan home yet?” asked Pablo.

Thank God, I thought, as I slumped in my chair and let out a quiet sigh. Finally, someone mentioned his name. He’d probably be back soon, and I could ask him where the fuck he had been.

“No,” answered Hernan. “He texted me that he’d be gone for a while.”

Pablo raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

“Business trip,” Hernan shrugged.

My fingers drummed against the underside of the table, and I could feel my heart thumping all the way up in my throat. Business trip, my ass. He’d left me behind.

It was Juan’s fault for not waking me up, his fault we’d almost been caught. It was his fault if Pablo had doubts now, and now he’d added another bombshell to my minefield of predicaments, he’d left me to fend for my own.

But as Pablo turned around to face me, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger, with a calm smile on his lips, it dawned upon me.

What if we’d been seen, or heard, or caught somehow? What if Manée snitched on us, or Pablo never really believed my lies?

What if something happened to Juan?

Kerning

In The Dark

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