You're wrong, but you're so much fun.
She leaves the club at around two in the morning. It's still dark out, of course, and she can barely see where she's walking.
Her high heels clack against the concrete floor outside the building as she searching in her bag for her lipgloss. She retrives the item and applies some to her lips before waving a hand out in search of a cab.
Her friends are still inside, they said they'd leave in a while but she couldn't wait around anymore. She was drunk, tired, and wanted to go home so she could get a good night's, or rather, a good morning's rest.
A black car pulls up in front of her and the driver gets out to open the door for her. She doesn't pay much attention to him, she stumbles inside the vehicle, her fingers cluthing onto the door as she enters. The man shuts the door behind her and resumes his seat in front of the wheel.
She slurs out her adress and hands him a fifty dollar bill. Her house isn't that far.
She crosses her legs, purse beside her, and rests her hands at her sides. It's comfy, she remarks, reminding herself to use this cab service more often.
Her mind wanders to her home. Her dog, probably tearing apart one of his toys. Her bedroom, her soft bed ready for her to jump into. Her coffee machine, she'll turn it on so it's ready for when she wakes up.
She never makes it home.
Her eyes flutter open slowly, and she licks her lips from the dryness. She raises her back from the mattress, her hands gripping the edges of the soft cushion. She cats her eyes around the room attentively, every single item and object unknown to her.
She doesn't know where she is.
It isn't home.
The room's almost completely dark, apart from the small light that she can peeking through from the top of the stairs. She takes note of the stairs and lifts her body from the mattress, making her way over to her bag that she saw resting on a chair across the darkly-lit room.
She searches for her phone, but she can't find it and she wonders if there's a reason for that. It's not there. It's gone.
The brunette throws her bag back down on the stool and paddles her way back over to the bed. She sits down again, folding her arms protectively across her chest.
She doesn't know where she is, and she feels the need to protect herself from anyone that could be around. The shirt she's wearing catches her attention and she realizes that it's not her own.
She was wearing a tight skimpy red dress the night before and now she's only dressed in an oversized black dress shirt and her underwear. She's still slightly drunk but that doesn't explain anything.
Tears almost spring to her eyes as she pondes what must have happened.
She remembers leaving the club, checking her phone and getting into a cab.
The cab.
The guy, the driver.
She barely remembers his appearance, she'd only gotten the smallest glance at him before getting into his awaiting car. He was tall, that she knows, but the rest is a blur.
The door above the stairs slams open and shuts again and she jumps at the sound of a guy's voice.
"You awake?" He asks her, descending down the stairs one by one.
Her arms fold tighter against her and she crosses her legs to protect herself. She tugs on the brown sheet at the end of the bed and pulls it up, over her body but not her face. She needs to see him.
His large form walks in front of her, moving the chair to sit down on after throwing her bag on the ground.
He's quite attractive, she notes, but that doesn't change anything.
Did he kidnap her? Was he going to rape her, kill her?
She doesn't know, but whatever it is she's pretty sure it's not right.
"So, you are." He states, taking a seat in front of her and clasping his hands together in his lap.
He has brown hair, and brown eyes. She figues that he can't be much older than her. She honestly finds him quite hot, even though she knows its completely wrong, so, so wrong.
"W-Where am I?" She dares to ask him, holding the sheet tighter to her body.
He raises an eyebrow, "You think I'm gonna answer that? Really?" His voice isn't raised and it's not calm either, but she thinks it's deep and he sounds as good as he looks. But that's wrong.
"Maybe."
The guy shakes his head, tapping his hands together out of disbelief, "Well, you'd like that, wouldn't you." It's not a question, more like a statement because they both know that it's true.
She'd love to know where she was, so she could get the hell out of it.
But she guesses that he's not going to let that happen anytime soon.
"Who are you?"
He immediately cuts her off, "Tell me, Princess, did your Daddy ever tell you about his little business on the side?"
She frowns, "What business?"
"The one where he kills people."
It's an easy statement and she's pretty sure that she doesn't, and shouldn't, believe him.
"Don't fucking talk about my father like that."
He chuckles for a second with a smirk on his face, "You saying bad words to me, Princess?"
She feels offended at the nickname.
Her father's the biggest pharmaceuticals dealer in the town of Lima, Ohio. It's always been a good success and she figures that her father's status increased one day and he became town royalty.
She doesn't know how, but she doesn't like it either way. Everyone pictures her as the prissy daughter of an important guy but she's not that person.
She likes to go out and party. She likes to have fun, real fun. She likes having a dirty side that nobody knows about. She doesn't like playing the good girl.
"Don't call me that." She warns him, unsure of what she'd actually be able to do to him if he made an advance. He's much stonger than she is, clearly. But she doesn't care, "So, what is it then? My Daddy kill someone important to you?" She taunts him, pulling childlike face that she's sure she'll regret. She still doesn't believe him about her father's so-called job-on-the-side.
"Yes, actually." He tells her firmly, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tight between his fingers. He can hurt her if he really wants to, he knows he can.
She rolls her eyes, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. He's staring at her, her body in particular, and she's not sure how to feel about it.
"Come here."
Her head snaps up and she creases her forehead as she looks over at him. "What?"
"Come here, now." He repeats, his voice sharper this time.
She's not sure what'll do if she doesn't, so she raises from the bed slowly, trying to keep the sheet covering her as much as she can. She makes her way over to him, her hand sholding against herself tightly.
"Drop the sheet." He tells her to do. He finds her remarkably attractive and plans to have his way with her as long as she's in this basement.
The cover drops lightly to the floor and she wonders why she doesn't feel self conscious.
She should feel completely wrong, and dirty, and sick with herself. But she doesn't, for some sick and massichistic reason.
His hands slowly trail up her legs and she can't help but like the feeling. He grasps her waist and pulls her closer to him, his face before her stomach and he kisses the bottom of her belly, pulling the rim of the shirt, that she assumes is his, to the side. His mouth travels to her pelvis, just above the top of the panties and she almsot jumps at the sensation.
"Take off the shirt."
She finds herself feeling weird, and for some strange reason, wanting him to continue.
Her fingers gently undo the buttons of the shirt, undoing them one at a time. The black clothe slips to the ground after she shrugs it off and her naked chest is exposed.
He admires her breasts for a second before grapsing them lightly, kneeding them in his hands.
She moans again and her nipples tweak when he takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
He pulls away, his hands continuing their movements, "Lie on the bed,"
She obliges, because she kind of really wants to.
The brunette lies her body down on the bed, her back folding into the soft mattress again until he speaks,
"On your stomach."
She flips herself over, turning her face to the side.
She can feel his hands run over her legs and her ass before they crawl up her back lightly with goosebumps and pass over her shoulders like feathers.
They stop on her ass again, cupping a cheek in each hand. His fingers hook into the sides of her panties and he slowly starts to draw them down, past her legs and onto the floor as he speaks, "You ever been fucked from behind before?"
Her breath hitches at the thought. Oh god.
Her head shakes slowly and she can catch the small grin on his face, sure that she's almost doing the same thing. She thinsk that she'll like having this first with him, this guy that she doesn't know one bit, whose name is unknown.
She gulps when he grabs both of her hands and claps them in his own, and she can feel him pressing himself agaisnt her after she hears the sound of a zipper sliding down.
Only two words comes to mind and they shock her, "Fuck me."
He gladly listens and obliges, sliding himslf into her from behind. She groans at the new feeling, her hands balling into fists out of need, for him. It kind of hurts but she likes it for some reason and she realizes how wrong this is.
It's fucked up.
Like, seriously, fucked up.
He pumps into her repeatedly, his chest sliding against her creased back with every movement. She almost feels herself collapse beneath him but she doesn't want to. She likes this and if she could, she'd let it, and him, go on forever.
But she can tell that she'll lose it any minute and she wonders how long he'll last.
"Oh, fuck!" She cries out, her hands scrapping at the sheet underneath them. He comes in her and his legs tangle with hers for a second before he stands, brushing himself off. He seems slightly discheveled and she's completely out of breath, panting gasps.
She turns herself around agains slowly, throwing herself back down on the mattress, her arms and legs spread out. After a few seconds, she manages to pull the cover back over herself and sits up, "Where are you going?" She asks him curiously, noticing the way he's pulling his pants back up in a hurry.
She just fucked someone who claims her father's a killer, and the only thought on her mind is where the guy's going because she's kind of ready for a round two.
"Nowhere. Stay here." He tells her simply, trecking back up the stairs leading out of the basement.
She wonders where they lead and where he's going.
He's leaving for a while, she knows it's only for a short amount of time. The room's still pretty dark and shes thinks that she can get a bit of sleep before he comes down the stairs again.
It's fucked up.
Like, seriously, fucked up.