Trafficked -- Beaten -- Trapped
When eighteen-year-old Stacy Degray sets off to visit Felipe, a charming guy she met on the internet, she has no idea that she is being lured to his home country Malaguay to be auctioned off as a soldier's bride. All...
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When I awake a few hours later, the nausea is gone, and I feel somewhat refreshed. The surreal light of dusk crawls through the cracked curtain, together with a light breeze. I try to loosen Felipe's embrace, but he stirs, his arms tightening even more around my midsection.
"Feeling better?" His voice is thick from sleep.
"Much better." I've even got some of my appetite back.
Peeling himself out of the blankets, Felipe traces feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His warm breath, tickling on my skin, gets my heart to skip a couple of beats, but when he fumbles with the button of my shirt, I go rigid.
"Don't, Felipe."
That only draws out a husky chuckle, his thumb popping open the next button.
I fight harder to wiggle out from under him, but his body shifts to hold me down. His lips sealing my mouth drowns out a new protest. His hand finds its way under my shirt. When he strokes my breast, I almost die.
"No, Felipe. Stop."
"Come on, Stacy. You know you want this." He grinds against my crotch.
I gulp. "No, I mean it. Stop!"
He finally sits up on my hips. With the sweetest smile, he gazes down on me. "Is there something I should know?" He cocks his head. "You're not really a guy, are you?"
My laugh is awkward. "No." I can't hold his heated gaze. "It's just—I don't believe in premarital sex."
"Seriously?"
Nodding, I chew my lip.
"Don't you think that's something you should've mentioned during one of our Skype calls?"
I frown. How can he expect us to discuss something that private through a computer screen? Even now, the topic is more than embarrassing. "Sorry, I didn't think it mattered . . ."
He sighs. "I guess it shouldn't matter."
"So is it okay? If we wait, I mean."
"I guess."
"Besides"—my gaze falls on Raine's bed—"the other girls will probably be back soon."
"Yeah." He slides out of the bed with a low huff.
I pull the blanket closer around me, unsure if I should get up. Judging from the deep wrinkle on his forehead, he's mad. The few statistics I read hinted that most couples don't wait to be married to have sex, and he probably expected more. Maybe I should have mentioned it during one of our conversations. Now, it might lead to an argument.
A knock is a welcome distraction. "Yo, Felipe," Tomás says from behind the door. "Miguel is looking for you."
"I'll be right there." When he pecks my cheek, the sweet smile has returned, though it looks a little fake. "Sorry, duty calls. Can't keep the boss waiting."
