Relax

Disclaimer: neither Ethan nor Jessica from Cellular belong to me. I wouldn’t mind having Ethan, though–is he for sale?

Summary: Ethan decides Jessica needs to calm down.

Relax

Jessica Martin knelt on the attic floor next to the remains of the telephone her kidnapper had shattered with a sledgehammer, crossing wires and praying that the random number produced would connect her with someone. Her long blonde hair slipped down into her face, and she shoved it back with a hard swipe of her arm. Had she somehow awakened in a parallel universe this morning? One second she had been putting her son Ricky on the school bus as she did every morning, and the next five armed men had broken into her home to shoot her housekeeper and kidnap her. She hadn’t seen any of her captors since the one she thought was their leader tossed her in here and broke the phone, and she still had no idea why they’d chosen her to abduct. It must be a mistake, she kept telling herself. They have the wrong house, the wrong family. But their mistake wouldn’t help her; even if the men did find the actual family they wanted, that wouldn’t save her. She’d seen all their faces, could identify them in a police lineup, so they had no choice but to kill her. A simple real-world equation: x plus y equals z. But if she could just manage to raise someone on the phone, she had a chance. A pretty big if, but it was all she had to cling to.

Heavy footsteps approached, and she shoved the remains of the phone aside. If he took the phone out of here, she had no chance at all. Jessica just hoped that he hadn’t yet discovered his mistake and come upstairs to kill her.

A man stepped into the attic, closing and locking the door behind him. It was the one she thought of as the leader. Fear began rising into her throat, but she forced it back down. Panic freezes the mind, and now her mind was the only weapon she had. To distract herself, she studied him, trying to memorize him for the time when she’d have to describe him to a police sketch artist. Oh, if only she’d been an artist instead of a science teacher. Description had never been her strong point. He was taller than she was, maybe a shade under six feet, and built strong. She’d felt his big muscles bunching when he picked her up and hauled her out to the van. “Don’t scream,” he’d whispered in her ear as he carried her across the backyard. “I’ll have to kill you if you do.” His voice was low and rumbling, and he had an English accent. Jessica would know that voice anywhere. He wore the same clothes as he had earlier: brown leather bomber jacket, black T-shirt, and baggy black jeans. Brown eyes, dark hair cut military-short, receding hairline, and good-looking in a tough, heartless way. Dangerous like a forest fire.

Almost before she had time to move, he stood in front of her, close enough to touch. She didn’t know she’d started backing up until the support beam for the ceiling hit her in the back. Tremors shook her until she thought she’d fly apart. No, she had to hang on, protect Ricky, get through this however she could. Tough words, but she couldn’t stop shaking. As the man looked at her, a fleeting expression of pity and discomfort crossed his face, replaced in an instant with a neutral mask. Did he feel bad about what he was doing? If so, was there any way she could use that to save herself?

“My name is Ethan,” he said abruptly. She had the feeling it hadn’t been what he had planned to say.

“I’m–”

“Jessica Martin, yes, I know. There’s no mistaken identity here. You’re who I wanted, and you’re who I have.”

“But why? Why do you want me? I don’t even know you. I’ve never done anything to you.” To her horror, tears filled her eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks. She had wanted to seem strong in front of him, calm and composed, but her fear crushed her. Putting her hands over her face, she sank to the floor and drew up her knees, putting her forehead on top of them, her whole body shaking with the force of her sobs.

He stood there above her for a few moments, then she heard him kneel and felt a hand on her back. To her surprise, his touch wasn’t rough. “You’ve got to try and calm down, Jessica. Don’t make this any harder on yourself than it already is.”

She couldn’t answer him, tears choking her. He sighed and jerked her hands away from her face, pulling her to her feet. “What are you doing?” She managed to gasp as he forced her arms behind her and something went around her wrists, securing her to the support beam. When she tried to pull free, her bonds held her fast. Panic threatened to swamp her as he looked at her and smiled. A beautiful smile, but the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen.

“Going to help you relax, love. Can’t have you this tense, you’ll fly apart before tonight. I need you calmer than this if you’re going to help me.”

“Help you do what?” Anything to keep him talking, keep him from doing what she suspected he intended.

“That talk’s for later.” A hint of his former smile remained on his lips as he removed his jacket and tossed it aside, following it with his T-shirt. Jessica couldn’t help but draw in a breath at the sight of him, bare to the waist. Whatever else the man was, he kept himself in shape. She hadn’t seen a man so perfectly built since–well, ever. She scolded herself mentally for even noticing, but really, she’d have to be blind not to see how attractive he was physically. The gleam in his eyes as he approached her made her heart sink. She just hoped he wouldn’t hurt her too much.

His fingers slowly unfastened the buttons of her dress until it gaped open, baring her to his eyes. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he traced the lace edging of her bra, his fingers leaving trails of heat over her skin. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a switchblade and hit the go button. The snick of the blade popping into place drew a moan of terror from her, but all he did was grasp the front of her bra and slice through it, then pull it from her and toss it away. Now he could see her breasts, the nipples hardening. It’s the cold, she reassured herself. I’m scared. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. Nothing except that he then proceeded to place his hands on her hips and pull her panties down her legs. “Step out of them,” he ordered. She did. What else could she do under the circumstances? He could kill her at any moment.

He tossed them aside and stood back, letting his gaze rake her from head to toe. A wave of warmth washed over her, which she did her best to ignore. If only she could have ignored it when he moved forward and pressed himself tight against her, her breasts rubbing against his bare chest, his hard cock pressed against her stomach. She felt the heat of him right through his jeans. His hands touched her shoulders and slid over her arms, up and down from shoulders to wrists, over and over. “You feel good, Jessica,” he whispered. A choked moan escaped her, and he chuckled. “Don’t quite know what to do, do you? Well, it’s good you don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of it.”

She barely heard him, too busy trying to put down the mutiny of her body. The hair on his chest had teased her nipples to aching points, and she realized with despair that she wanted his mouth on them, sucking, drawing the ache out. But that was impossible–she absolutely could not want him, could not want to have sex with him. It was twisted, for God’s sake. She was his prisoner. She hated him. He terrified her. She was sure of that.

With a quick flip of his hand he drove the switchblade into the wood of the support beam above her head and fell to his knees in front of her. She only had time to register what this must mean when his hands spread her legs and his tongue found the tender flesh between them. A high, wailing cry tore out of her throat as he began running his tongue around and over her clitoris. No, she couldn’t be aroused by it. Burning pleasure could not be spreading through her belly and down her thighs. She tried to close her legs, but his hands kept a firm grip on her just above the knee, and all her action did was cause the insides of her thighs to brush against his face. Beard stubble rubbed against the sensitive skin and she groaned. Her husband Craig always shaved before they had sex, so this was something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. God help her, it felt damn good. No way could she be praying he wouldn’t stop. That just wasn't her.

He released his grip on one of her legs to slide a finger inside her while his tongue kept up its teasing circles and she moved restlessly in his grasp. Then he added another finger, and her head swam with the sensation. She hated him, she told herself as she writhed against him, fighting not to grind herself against his face and hand. She was terrified of him, she swore to herself as her wrists strained against their bonds, unable to find his head and hold him there. She didn’t want him, she promised herself as the first tremors of orgasm began. Then she was coming, oh God, so hard as he pumped his fingers in and out of her and kept his tongue circling, fast, teasing, making it go on and on, and she couldn’t take it anymore, it felt so good, better than anything Craig had ever done to her, and she wanted more of it, and she was screaming for more of it. If the other men downstairs could hear her, she didn’t give the faintest damn. All that mattered was the demands of her body, and right now it insisted on more of him.

When he drew away from her, she hung limp and gasping from the support beam, long hair hiding her face. He brushed it away and tilted her chin up. “Tell me what you want.” His voice had a breathless quality in it that called to every carnal feeling in her. But she couldn’t give in to that any more than she already had. Little quivers still ran through her body from her climax and all she wanted in the world was for him to ram his cock deep inside her and fuck her brains out. But she’d die before saying that to him.

“No.” She shook her head and tried not to look at him.

He forced her head up and smiled again. “Going to be difficult again, after that? But that’s all right, love. I know what you want, and you will tell me. And you will love every single second of it.” He lifted her until her legs were wrapped around his waist and his hand delved between her legs, finding her clit and teasing it. She moaned and twisted against him, still sensitive from her orgasm. His touch gentled, but he kept it up, stimulating her until she was writhing in his arms again, her breath leaving her in short, sharp gasps at his touch on her wet flesh. His mouth went to her nipples, sucking as she had craved for him to do, lashing them until she thought he'd drive her crazy. “Now tell me, love. Tell me what you want me to do,” he asked again when she was crying out. “I know you need it now. Just tell me and I’ll do it. Whatever you want. Just ask.”

Jessica had no more resistance left. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Ethan,” he said. “My name is Ethan. Call me that.”

“Oh, please, Ethan, fuck me,” she sobbed.

He smiled and lowered his head, finding her mouth for the first time as he drew his hard cock out of his pants and drove into her, swallowing her cry of pleasure at his penetration. His tongue slid into her mouth and she could taste herself there. Her entire body tensed and she came suddenly, gasping into his mouth as her interior muscles clenched around him. Oh God, it was good, so good she never wanted to stop fucking him. She gave up resistance and drove her hips against him as hard as she could, riding that wonderful hard flesh inside her. Would she have responded this way if Craig hadn’t been too busy for sex for months now? Would she have responded this way if Craig had even once made her feel one-tenth of the pleasure this brutal thug, her kidnapper, had? Jessica didn’t know or care. The burning between her legs had seized command of her, making her lock her legs around him and meet his every thrust. She had to stoke the fire, make it burn higher and higher until it consumed her in burst after burst of pleasure. Her throat hurt from screaming, but it didn’t matter. She had to keep rubbing herself against him, feeling the slide of his cock inside her, the friction of his chest against her breasts. He overwhelmed her senses and she buried her face in his neck, smelling his scent of leather and man and some expensive cologne. His teeth nipped at the side of her neck and she whispered, “Mark me, Ethan. I want to remember this.” Obligingly he took the skin of her throat in his mouth and sucked, the way he had done with his head between her legs. The thought drove her over the edge again and she came with tears and sobs, her muscles squeezing rhythmically around him until he sank his fingers into the globes of her ass and came himself, shooting his hot seed deep inside her, his teeth closing on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, marking her as she let her head fall backward and her legs drop down from his hips.

Both of them slid down the post until Jessica sat on the floor and Ethan sprawled over her, both of them still gasping from the aftereffects of passion. Slowly he raised his head and looked at her. “I’ll still kill you if I have to, love. I’d regret it, but I’ll do it. Don’t kid yourself there.”

“I won’t,” she replied.

“I’m going to untie you and then you can get yourself dressed. None of the other men will bother you, in case you’re worried. We didn’t come here to rape you.”

She resisted saying that he had. Even if she had enjoyed it tremendously, it was still rape. Even if he had been the best fuck of her life.

He continued speaking. “I just wanted you to be calm, Jessica, calm enough to do what I need you to do.”

“Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. And when do I find out what you need?”

“When I’m ready to tell you.” Ethan stepped behind her and freed her wrists. She thought about running for the door but remembered he’d locked it. Even if she had gotten out, four armed men still waited downstairs. Four armed men who’d heard her coming her brains out while their boss fucked her. No, going downstairs was not a good idea right now.

While she retrieved her panties and put them back on, Ethan pulled the switchblade out of the post and walked to the door, turning around just before he left. His expression didn’t fade so quickly now, and she knew he did feel bad that he might have to kill her. Not bad enough to keep him from it, but enough to cause him a few sleepless nights. “I’ll be back soon,” was all he said before he left.

Jessica sat there for a few moments, afterglow making her limbs heavy, then returned to the remains of the broken phone and began crossing wires again. Her desperation had eased a little, and she let out a chuckle. He’d done what he set out to do–he’d made her relax, and her fingers were steady on the wires as she sent random numbers out over the line, hoping that someone somewhere would hear her.