Held Captive By Love

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  HELD CAPTIVE BY LOVE

  By: Sandy Anton

  Copyright © 2015 Sandy Anton.

  Copyright: This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or used fictitiously

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  Chapter 1

  “Just... one... more,” Jenna grunted, giving the heavy suitcase another tug. It lurched onto the landing, joining its partner by the apartment's front door. Jenna leaned heavily against the baggage and gave a heavy sigh. She had only walked up one flight of stairs, but she'd also (attempting to save a little bit on cab fare) pulled the two suitcases twenty blocks to her new place in West Harlem. She'd heard New York City's blocks were short, so had figured the task would be easy, not that it had been the hardest thing she'd ever done (thirty minutes of Pilates was much harder than walking a few blocks), but it hadn't been a piece of cake either.

  “Home sweet home,” She grinned, barely able to hold back the squeal as she rifled through her purse for her keys. The only view she'd ever gotten of her new apartment had been through pictures on the Internet, and she couldn't wait to see it in person.

  This was it. She was finally here. Twenty-four years old, two years out of community college, a hundred or so beauty vlog posts on YouTube, and dozens and dozens of non-believers back in Wharton, Iowa telling her she'd never be able to do it.

  But she'd finally done it, even though she had never been to New York before or had never lived alone. And even though she knew there were hundreds- heck, maybe thousands- of other hopefuls just like her in the city looking to break into the beauty industry, she'd made the commitment.

  She, Jenna Smith, had decided years ago, after giving her friend Nancy her first makeover in sixth grade, that she was committing her life to the bettering of women's souls and hearts. One of the ways you could do that, Jenna knew, was by worshiping your body like the beautiful temple it was. And so, last year, she had started her vlog, Jenna's Beauty Blog. The going had been slow at first, but then, a few months ago, views and subscribers had suddenly begun ratcheting up. Jenna had gotten her first paid advertiser a few weeks after that, and with that came connections and advice from all sorts of people all over the blogosphere.

  Soon it became clear to Jenna what she had to do if she wanted to be truly successful: She had to move someplace where not only the professional connections were, but where the excitement was.

  Iowa had been all she had ever known. And the only thing keeping her there after high school had been Brad. With his dazzling smile and Quarterback status at Oak River High School, Brad had been a catch- and people had never stopped reminding Jenna of that.

  After walking in on him with the skanky brunette in the red strappy heels last year, though, everything had changed. There, Brad had been, screwing a near stranger on the bed that he'd shared with Jenna for five years.

  She'd packed up and moved out of their apartment that very day, settling back into her childhood bedroom. A week later, after much sobbing, ice cream, and episodes of Gilmore Girls, she'd finally grown tired of being sorry for herself. She didn't want to wallow. No. She wanted actually to do something. And not just for herself, but for other people as well.

  And so Jenna's Beauty video blog had been born.

  Now life was changing radically, and it was barely giving Jenna enough time to thank God for all her blessings.

  Finally finding her keys, she pulled them out of the purse and turned the lock. Slowly, the door creaked open. It was one of the most beautiful sounds Jenna had ever heard. It was freedom. It was the revelry of the unknown. One city. Eight million people. One Jenna. And all the possibilities in the world.

  The door hit against the inside wall and came to a stop. A short, barely existent hallway gave way to a room with a single window. To the left was the open-spaced kitchen, and to the right was a tiny bathroom. Jenna could see her whole studio apartment from where she stood in the front doorway.

  It was small. It was cramped. It was nothing like Iowa.

  It was perfect.

  Chapter 2

  The days passed unbelievably fast, and before Jenna knew it, she had been in New York for two weeks. It felt like she'd spent an entire lifetime there, though. After half a month she knew the subway lines like the back of her hand. Jenna had a favorite rock to go and sit on in Central Park in the afternoons when the sun hung low in the sky and teenagers played Frisbee and joggers ran huffing by.

  When she'd first planned her move to New York, Jenna had thought initially that she would have to get a 'survival job' to help pay her rent. Then a stroke of luck appeared when a friend got her in touch with an actor who was going on tour for six months and needed to rent out his fully furnished studio apartment. Not only was the place cheaper than Jenna had expected, but she'd been getting an increasing amount of contracts with companies who wanted to either link their ads to her pages, have her use their products, or have her simply tweet about their new mascara or lip-gloss.

  She'd heard numerous times that New Yorkers were unbelievably standoffish, so she'd made a point of getting to know her neighbors. She didn't know just how many apartments were in her building (it seemed like every day she saw someone knew coming in or out), but she'd baked cookies and taken them to the two other apartments on her floor, plus the three above and below her. Not everyone had answered their doors, but Jenna had made a few friends. Right next to her was a lady in her mid-thirties named Tania, who had two dark-haired little boys in elementary school. Directly across the hall was a girl about Jenna's age. Sissy had short, curly blonde hair and colorful tattoos on her arms. She said 'dude' and 'man' a lot, and shared her apartment with her girlfriend. Who Jenna had still yet to meet, most likely because (as Sissy informed Jenna) Carolyn was working on her Ph.D. and spent a lot of time either in study groups at the library or writing papers in coffee shops. Right below Jenna, on the bottom floor, was an elderly man named Mr. Thompson, who was beyond friendly. Every time Jenna left the building, it seemed, he was sitting out on the front stoop, ready to share yet another story about his time in Vietnam or his adventures in Spain.

  But that had been it. No one else had responded to Jenna's attempts at friendliness. Tania had, however, after finding out Jenna was single, mentioned a supposedly hot guy who lived on the floor above. “The only thing is,” Tania had said, “He keeps to himself. He's gone all day long and often most of the night. He hardly ever says hello. Maybe he's shy, though,” She'd shrugged.

  Even though Jenna had been seeing loads of people coming in and out of the building, she was sure that, even after two weeks, she'd never seen this guy. According to Tania, he had black, wavy hair and the 'body of a Greek God'.

  Yeah, she definitely hadn't seen anyone like that.

  She had heard things, though. Starting the first night, there had been moaning coming from the ceiling right above Jenna's head. At first, she'd wondered if she was getting it wrong. Maybe it was the TV, and her upstairs neighbors had the volume turned up super high on some weird nature sho
w about lions mating or something.

  But the next night she'd heard the moaning and groaning again. And again the night after that. Soon it had been hard for Jenna to deny what was going on. Somebody not only was having good sex, but they were having it pretty much every night.

  The nerve, She'd thought to herself, at first, appalled. Soon, though, she was more than appalled. She was intrigued. And for a girl who hadn't had any action in over a year she was, despite herself, unbearably turned on.

  Chapter 3

  On Friday night, two weeks after Jenna had first stepped foot in New York City, she sat on her bed in front of her pink laptop. She'd just finished shooting segments for a video about five different quick and classy hairstyles a girl could do for date night. She still had her dark-gold hair up in the fishtail bun and was debating whether or not to unpin the do.

  Maybe she should go out. It was the weekend after all. There were a million bars and restaurants in New York's five boroughs just waiting to be explored by Jenna and her new found freedom.

  The thought of going out to a bar and trying to small talk with a stranger, though, made Jenna feel sickly empty inside.

  Even though she'd been all too glad to get out of Iowa, she missed the few friends that she'd had there. And sitting in front of a camera and a computer all day in one's apartment didn't exactly provide ample opportunities for mingling.

  No, unfortunately, the one thing that Jenna had been making the most contact with over the last couple weeks had been her vibrating dildo. Nancy had given it to her as a going-away present, all tied up in a big bow. Jenna had laughed when she'd gotten it, assuming her life-long friend had meant the gift to be a joke.

  But once she'd gotten to New York and started hearing the noises from the apartment above... Well, the dildo had suddenly become very useful, to say the least.

  Jenna bit her lip, debating...

  And a muffled moan descended from above.

  “Damn it,” She sighed. She was wet already, just after hearing one simple noise, and her panties were going to soak right through if she stayed in that apartment.

  Another moan, and a loud, heavy bump. Were they moving furniture up there? Jenna shut her eyes, trying not to imagine what kind of banging could actually lead to beds sliding across the floor. She couldn't help it, though.

  Giving in to what she'd already known was inevitable, she rolled to the side of the bed and pulled out the cardboard box that rested beneath it. The purple dildo was plastic with ridged edges and three different vibration settings. Another moan, even louder, this time, permeated the ceiling.

  She should just go up there and say something. She really should. The whole situation was starting to affect her life seriously.

  Yes, she would say something. But not now. No, she wasn't going to waltz right up there and knock on the door in the middle of whatever fuck-fest was going on.

  Plus, she already had the vibrator on its lowest setting, and the tip of it was moving back and forth over her swollen clit. Jenna closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall. Another moan from above and Jenna gasped in pleasure. She hit the button, turning the vibrations up a notch. The moans from above grew closer together. Someone was reaching their peak.

  And so was Jenna. She hadn't even put the dildo inside herself; hadn't even had the vibrator on for a minute, but a moan was escaping her lips as her hips were rising and pleasure was exploding through her entire body.

  Jenna gasped and switched the dildo off. She was beginning to feel like a freak, what with the amount that she had been masturbating lately. Three or more times a day. Was that even healthy?

  Somehow frustrated and satiated at the same time, she threw the dildo onto the bed. Something was going to have to be done about the whole situation. It had to stop.

  Taking a deep breath, she craned her head. It was finally silent. Until...

  Nope. Another moan. Jenna collapsed against her pillow. Jesus, was she really growing wet again?

  “Inconsiderate,” She whispered, as she reached down to tug her panties off.

  Chapter 4

  When the sun burst through the solitary window in the studio, Jenna woke up. There were white, gauzy curtains hanging above the panes, but she'd forgotten to draw them the night before. She'd also forgotten to brush her teeth, or change into her pajamas. She'd been too distracted by the noises from above. After masturbating a second time, she'd fallen into a deep sleep that had been full of dreams of sex with random strangers- men and women alike.

  Rubbing her face, she rolled out of bed. At least, there weren't any noises in the mornings. She wouldn't know what to do if there were.

  She needed a shower. Bad. And then she needed to go grocery shopping. The only things in her fridge were butter, a half-eaten cucumber, and some leftover fried rice from when she'd gotten take-out a few days before.

  Quickly, she rinsed off and put on a skinny pair of jeans and a gray tank top. Her hair was still slightly wet; she left it down to air dry. After slipping on her pair of purple converses, she was ready to go. Placing her hand on the door, though, she stopped. Makeup. She hardly ever went anywhere without at least putting on some mascara and tinted moisturizer. And maybe now that she was in New York she should start prioritizing looking good even more. Who knew when someone might recognize her from her vlog?

  Then again, she was just running down to the corner bodega, and it was highly unlikely that any of the sixty-plus men that hung out there night and day were avid followers of beauty blogs. Laughing at herself, she unlocked the chain and let herself out.

  It was a beautiful morning, and Jenna took her time walking back. She finally understood why New York had inspired so many songs, movies, and books. The whole island seemed to be throbbing with the life energy of the world. It was a place where anything seemed possible. You could feel that with each step on the pavement.

  There was a slight crispness to the air, and although September had barely started, Jenna could almost taste fall hiding right around the corner.

  Mr. Thompson was sitting in his usual spot on the stoop, talking to another old guy, who was wearing a newsboy cap and nodding his head a lot. Jenna gave Mr. Thompson a wave, then hurried to the heavy front door. It was good to see her neighbor had found someone to talk to. The most difficult thing about getting into her apartment wasn't finding the right keys, climbing the stairs, or waiting for the elevator that could often take eons to arrive. It was evading Mr. Thompson's run-on conversations.

  Balancing one of the two paper bags on her knee, she unlocked the door and slipped inside. Just as the door banged closed behind her, the elevator door screeched open. Awesome. She wouldn't have to wait for it. This was already turning out to be a great day.

  And when the figure inside the elevator stepped out and into the foyer the day became even better.

  He was just shy of six feet, with bronze skin and dark, wavy hair. His chocolate eyes stared straight at Jenna as her legs started to quaking. He was wearing dress pants and a white button-up shirt and was carrying a suit jacket over his shoulder. On the other hand was a briefcase. Even though he was covered in clothes, Jenna could tell the man was ripped.

  Still looking at her, his mouth parted slightly, and his tongue slipped out to wet his lips.

  And Jenna's arms lost all muscle control as her groceries went crashing to the floor.

  The woman stared at Fernando as one of the bags tipped over and a can rolled out. Behind him, the elevator door slid to a close, but he couldn't move. He couldn't remember how to take even a single step. All he could do was look at the beautiful creature in front of him. Her golden hair, which was coming out of a messy and slightly damp bun. Her green-blue eyes, which held pupils that were shrinking and dilating with increasing speed. And her body...

  And internal groan ripped through Fernando. Jesus, her body. Her curves were on full display beneath the tight jeans and tank top she wore. Her nipples pressed hard against the thin material of her top, an
d Fernando bit his lip. One thing was for sure: this woman was turned on by the mere sight of him.

  So they had something in common.

  “Let me help you,” He said, finally managing to get his mouth working. It wasn't the only part of his body working, though. His cock was quickly growing hard, and his heart seemed to be running a race with itself.

  She nodded silently, still not moving. Fernando tried not to smile in amusement as he stepped forward. He often had such an effect on women- he had since he was young. The unusual thing here was how attracted he was to her. Sure, he could appreciate a woman's beauty. It had been a long, long time though since a girl had made him get so instantly turned on.

  Bending, he picked up the can at the same time as she went for the bag. As they simultaneously stood their arms brushed against each other... And the light headedness hit him like a freight train. Electricity sparked where her skin had touched his and traveled through his entire body.

  “Thanks,” She whispered. Her voice was light and cool. Listening to it was like bathing in a freshwater spring.

  He nodded. He was late for work. He had to go. Not only that, but the interaction was starting to worry him. He wasn't used to not being in control when it came to women. Usually, he dictated how things were going to go down. And as far as emotions went, he liked to keep them as in check as possible.

  Never lose control. That was his motto, both in work and in life.

  He had to get out of that building before the girl made him eat his lifelong creed.

  “You're welcome,” He answered, his voice coming out cracked. As quickly as he could, he stepped to one side as she stepped to another. Then, quick as a flash, she was scurrying into the elevator and pounding the buttons like a crazy person.

  The door slid closed, and that was it.