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High Profile (ShadowOfDesire and Catalyst)

Sofia backed up as he advanced, and eventually came to the wall as he'd predicted. Any way she ran she'd be within arms' reach of him, but she had to take that chance. Before she could literally be cornered, she darted sideways along the wall, heading for her closet. Still hugging the shirt against her torso, she tried to duck beneath his arm to escape him. If she could get to the bathroom, perhaps she could barricade herself in long enough to think of a way out.

The problem was that she wasn't really thinking. She was just acting blindly, spurred on by her fear and anger, and his taunts. Sofia wasn't accustomed to dealing with any of those, the latter especially, and he'd thrown her completely off balance from the moment he grabbed her. She'd never dreamed she could be in such a situation, much less planned out what to do in such a scenario.
 
Her petite form and light feet would work to her advantage, at least for a fraction of a moment. By what otherwise was likely little more than a stroke of luck and good timing, she had been able to sneak beneath his arm. But his reflexes were quick, and it did not take him long to respond in kind. Pivoting his body just as soon as she'd past him, he was able to stick out and sweep his long leg about himself, finding contact with her right leg just above the ankle with enough force to knock it out from under her.

At best, she may have been able to regain her composure, but not without stumbling as she was forced to compensate for the sudden loss of footing and conflicting momentum that had stopped one side of her gait in its tracks. But if she was not so steady on her feet - as he anticipated that she wouldn't be, given her level of panic and the lack of any added stabilization as she clutched her hands to the clothing at her chest, then she would be sent toppling down onto the floor just beside his feet; utterly helpless. Either way, he was already preparing to make his next move.
 
A giant rug was situated under and around her bed, but the rest of the floor was cold marble. Sofia had no cushioning as she tripped over his foot and tumbled forward. She caught herself before hitting her face or head, but the impact on her hands and knees was jarring.

She sprawled on the floor and slid a few more inches before friction stopped her. She'd dropped her shirt in order to catch herself, so her uncovered breasts swung freely as she quickly turned to fend him off. That fearful expression had returned, if just for a moment, as he was on her far quicker than she could track.
 
Before he'd even fully turned his body and planted his foot, he heard that satisfying sound of bare flesh crashing against the cold marble, assuring him of his success. Surely, that sound shouldn't have been nearly so pleasing to him. And yet it was. That perfect, sharp sound of skin slapping against the floor. It was almost as pleasing as the sight itself.

He did not waste a second, now. She'd already proven that she had every intention on trying to escape with whatever modicum of a chance she was given, and he refused to give her any more. Before she could do anything about it, he was standing over her. He reached down with both hands and grabbed her by the arms to prevent from taking a shot at him. Without speaking a word, he pulled her up mercilessly from where she'd landed, manhandling her with no regard for whatever pain he may have caused her in the process.
 
Sofia shrieked as he grabbed her and tried to twist out of his grip, using her weight in an attempt to jerk away, but only bruising her flesh in the process. Her legs were still free, however, and she used them wildly, trying to kick or knee him in whatever tender bits he left unguarded. Her target was all too obvious. A good knee to his groin would knock the wind from him and might give her a chance to flee.

That fire he'd first seen in her had been muted by the appearance of his gun, but it was back in full force as she fought to break free. While she didn't yell at him as before, she did growl through clenched teeth while she resisted. Her dark eyes brimmed with anger and desperation in equal measure. She knew what would happen if she lost, and that made her fight with every last bit of strength she had to offer.
 
It didn't take long for him to figure out what she was trying to do, nor was it entirely unexpected. But a few close calls later, as her flailing limbs struck his own legs near the hips with more than sufficient force to at the very least cause him some pain, he decided rather quickly that he'd had enough.

He spun her around forcibly, his own low grunts of frustration escaping him as he overcame her wild, erratic movements, taking a few more shots to his lower body in the process. As much trouble as she was able to give him, though, she still could not completely resist his physical will. He pushed her forward and into the wall with the full weight of his body behind her. The force of the collision knocked some small framed photo off of its mounting nail, causing it to fall to the floor where it shattered into pieces. He pressed her chest and face up against it, with one hand on her head, and the other wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her side. The entirety of his body was upon her, his crotch pressed against the top of her ass and his own broad chest against her back

"God damn it!" He hissed in her ear, breathing loudly against it. "You are one seriously stubborn little bitch, aren't you?!"
 
"Yes!" she grated out. She was breathing heavily from her attempt, tired from the fight and somewhat breathless from being slammed against the wall. Pinned against him, she tried to kick at him again, but he was too wary of her legs now and she connected with nothing. She wriggled again, trying to work her arms free, but her effort came to nothing. With her cheek pressed to the wall, she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Get off me!" she panted. Another squirm tried and failed to catch him off guard. As she wriggled and tried to push off the wall, her generous ass ground inadvertently ground against his groin, too distracted to realize what she was doing to him.

Growling in frustration, Sofia finally stopped fighting him. It was pointless, at least just then, and all she was doing was wearing herself out. Though angry at him for invading her home, and at herself for failing to escape, she knew there would be other chances.
 
She may have been ignorant of the movements of her ass against him, but he was far from it. On the contrary, he felt every little movement of those round, firm cheeks brushing back and forth against him, and he was quite enjoying it. It was almost a slight disappointment for him when it came to a halt.

"No, no I don't think I will!" He denied her request vehemently, instead pressing himself even more firmly against her. "I warned you what was going to happen if you kept trying to get away, didn't I?" Between the adrenaline of their little struggle and the almost naked body sandwiched between himself and the wall, what lie behind the fabric of his pants had begun to stir, growing gradually firmer against her. What he did next would only serve to exacerbate it.

His hand slithered around her body, gliding over her skin until it found one of those round, perky tits, and took it in his grasp. His breath was heavy against her as he squeezed her, all the while staring defiantly back at her. The knowledge of just how furious she was, and that enraged look in her eyes...it only made his self-claimed prize feel that much more rewarding.
 
"Puta madre!" she spat at him, swearing as his hand groped her breast. It spurred on another surge of wriggling as she struggled to break free, trying in some fashion to hurt him. Beneath the anger, she was terrified. Terrified of what he might do, would probably do, and a dozen other scenarios she hoped would never happen. She was terrified of that gun he'd tucked in his pants, that he'd finally decide to use it. The more she fought, the worse it would be for her. If he decided she was more trouble than what she was worth...

She tried to twist against the wall, to free her breast from his hand, but he had her pinned and helpless. And despite the situation, his exploring fingers sent a little jolt of lust between her thighs. Squirming to make it stop, she ground her ass against his growing erection again, still not realizing how much he could truly feel. When those efforts again came to nothing, she screamed in frustration.

"I said, get off! Don't fucking touching me, pendejo!" While she still glared at him, her voice cracked a trifle, fear seeping in to her tone.
 
"I'll fucking touch whatever I want!" He snapped back, practically growling at her as he made his point by fondling her even further and more aggressively. "But go ahead, keep squirming, and see where that gets you...My cock is absolutely loving it!"

He knew that comment would only infuriate her more, and that was precisely why he made it. The more she fought against him, the more his length swelled with anticipation, as though it were expecting to receive its own reward, and sooner, rather than later.

His hand squeezed her breast hard one last time before slipping away, brushing past her hard little brown nipple on the way down. It's mission was far from complete; and there was nothing she could do as it migrated downward over her tight, toned stomach, until it found the fabric of her panties. "What did I tell you, huh?" he asked her as he stared her down, those wicked intentions clear in his silver eyes. "That if you didn't take them off, I was going to do it myself, right?!" He brought his face closer to her own, until she could feel the heat of his breath against her. "But you didn't want to listen...."
 
She squealed with frustration again, though stopped wriggling against him. Now that he'd mentioned it, she could feel his throbbing erection pressed against her and the thought made her shudder. His rough treatment of her breast made her wince, but it was almost worse when he released her to allow his hand to explore lower. His touch left her quivering in fear, stomach dipping nervously as she felt his fingers teasing against the one tiny scrap of fabric she had left to cover her. Her tanned cheeks reddened as anger and embarrassment warred inside her.

"You expected me to?" she hissed. "Do all your hostages just automatically do what you say?" She growled again, jerking to get her arm free. She really wanted to elbow him in the gut. "Don't you fucking dare." Of course, she had nothing to back up her warnings except the threat of her father, and he was miles away with her mother, oblivious to his daughter's plight.

She turned her head toward the wall so she wouldn't have to look at him any longer, though he could feel her shaking. Fear? Rage? Likely both. Without them feeding her defiance, she'd likely turn to despair. Perhaps she would anyhow. There didn't seem to be any hope for her just then.
 
Hmph...valid point... he admitted to himself with a half-cocked smirk. Though I don't typically take hostages...or at least...not for very long...

She was still making her vague threats, even then. As though somehow, someway, he was going to pay for it if he went any further. Perhaps there was a slim chance that she could be right, if ever she did manage to catch him off guard. If that was to be the case, then he would just have to make sure that she never did.

He audibly scoffed as she turned her head away from him. There was a tense moment of silence as his fingertips grazed over the edge of the fabric. Just then, he tilted his head, as though trying to force her to look at him. Having already made his decision long ago, he brought his lips within inches of her ear and hissed, "you asked for this."

His hand slipped in one fluid motion beneath the fabric, trailing straight down over her smooth mound, and forcing its way between her legs. His fingers pressed hard against her as they slithered between her velvet lips, forcing them apart. He pressed his hips forward against her, forcing her own body forward against his touch.
 
Sofia gasped in shock. She'd expected him to rip away her clothing, not go straight for her sex. Her breath caught in her throat as he shifted her against his hand, pressing her clit against his fingers. Her thighs trembled at the unexpected surge of pleasure that rolled through her, so greatly at odds with the rage she harbored for the man. She automatically tried to run from his hand, which pressed her ass against his groin once more and the aching erection he had growing in his pants.

It took only a moment for his fingers to elicit her body's natural response, causing her sex to grow slick and wet with desire. She bit down on her lower lip to stifle any further moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He'd lit a fire that burned deep within her, though she tried to focus on her anger rather than her body's rising lust, as if with sheer willpower she could ignore the pleasurable sensations and deny him his own.

Faintly, through the closed door of the bedroom, the doorbell sounded. Sofia let out a choked cry of recognition and took a deep breath to scream for help.
 
Her movements not only served to press herself against his increasingly stiff length but to cause his hand to move back and forth over her own sex, as well. He'd caught her by surprise, but he didn't stop there, running his fingers back and forth over those smooth, young pussy lips. She could deny it as much as she wanted, but the immediate wetness that began to coat his fingers was something she could not stifle, and it was egging him on ever further, filling him with an aching desire to-

What the fuck?! His head snapped in the direction of the sound. Who the fuck is here?!

He ripped his hand away from her crotch, the elastic waistband of her panties snapping back into place against her hips, just barely in time to cover her open mouth, slamming it shut and covering it desperately. The arm that had been around her now moved for his gun, pulling it from its holster and pressing the metal barrel against her temple as he backed her away and off of the wall.

"Scream and I will blow your motherfucking brains out all over the God damn walls, I swear to God." His voice was a deep and harsh whisper, though there was a note of quiet franticness to it, now. "Do you understand me?!"
 
Her scream died in her throat. Even if his hand hadn't muffled her cries, the gun to her head certainly would have. With her arms free, she brought them up to cover herself, but offered him a slight nod to indicate she believed him. A soft whimper rose in her throat as she trembled. The fact that she could smell herself on his hand made the situation even worse. She'd been enjoying his touch, at least at some primal level, and the honey that glistened on his fingers proved it.

One hand rose to touch his wrist, pulling at it gently. She wasn't fighting him now. Her movements weren't frantic. They were slow and deliberate, indicating that she wished to speak. Unlike him, she knew who was at the door, and it wasn't the chance at freedom that she'd hoped. No, fighting him would only end her life sooner and the life of the woman at the door. Soft, muffled words rose behind his hand as the doorbell rang again.
 
Shit....Shit! Up until that point, he had thought sure that she had been lying to his face when she spoke of expecting company. The doorbell, however, seemingly indicated otherwise. Though in truth, his exact predicament was not nearly so bad as it could have been, he still cursed himself for not being more prepared. It took a short moment for him to regather himself, and to feel the oddly light touch of her hand at his.

She wouldn't scream now. He was fairly certain of that. Not with a loaded gun up against her skull. As much as a part of him would have loved to just put a bullet in both of his uninvited guests and been done with them right then and there, that was simply not realistic. Not now, not unless she leaves me no choice, he reminded himself.

That fucking bell. he looked annoyed as it rang out again. If whoever it was was going to be the persistent type, then he would need to do something about them, quickly. He thought to himself, only turning his attention back toward Sofia as she tried in vain to speak up. Slowly, and begrudgingly, he pulled his hand away from her lips, but kept it very, very close by, just in case. "Who's here, and what the hell do they want?" he asked her sharply and impatiently.
 
Sofia turned away from the gun at her head to look at him. Whatever hate she'd shown before had been replaced with concern. Her eyes flcked to the door briefly.

"She's just here to pick up my dry cleaning. I didn't have it in a separate bag, because I left in a hurry. They said they'd send someone up once I'd had the time to unpack. Only with... everything... I forgot to leave it outside the door."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The privacy latch isn't on. If no one answers after a few minutes, she'll assume I'm upstairs, and she'll let herself in to fetch it herself. If she's not back downstairs soon, they'll come up looking for her." It was a very real warning. He could kill them both, but someone would be up to investigate and his cover would be blown.

Mindful of the gun pointed at her, she moved slowly to fetch her shirt. As she bent over to snatch it off the floor, he could clearly see the wetness he'd caused in her panties. She pulled the shirt on, soft fabric slithering over her breasts and down to cover her to her thighs.

Flashing a look in his direction, she knelt beside the smaller suitcase she'd left beside the closet and zipped it open, throwing back the cover. The clothes inside had been hastily packed, wadded up and shoved in without any care. Sofia dug until she found the first of her dresses. As she yanked five party gowns free, a silicone vibrator rolled out with them. Flushing, she shoved the thing back into her case and then stood, clothes draped over her arm.

"I give her these, and she'll go away. They leave them outside the door when they're clean." She stared at him, heart fluttering like a bird as she awaited his decision. If things went sideways, she knew she and the concierge would both be dead.
 
Despite everything his years of experience had taught him, he realized there was not much choice at that moment, as she revealed the nature of her visitor. So people did know she was here, after all. That revelation would make her presence here far more complicated, and he was acutely aware of that. For now, he reluctantly allowed her to move away from him. He didn't say a word, but watched her with more focus than ever. One more wrong move, especially now, he decided, and she would become far more trouble than she's worth.

He relaxed his arm, holding the gun at his waist, though it remained aimed in her direction, following her just as closely as his gaze. He didn't need to see the dark spot on her black cotton panties to know what his touch had done to her. The evidence of that was still present, glistening on his fingertips. The sight, though, was innately satisfying, nonetheless; and given her obvious, vehement hatred toward him, even a bit amusing. Even more amusing, though, was the look that flashed over her face as her little toy came tumbling out. He huffed an audible breath from his nose, but made no other mention of it. Had he not been so focused on the situation at hand, he surely would not have let that go, so easily.

Looking her over as she spoke, he contemplated his own choice. If she did try to escape, she wouldn't stand a chance of survival. Surely she knew that. The flip side of that coin, however, was that there was no way he could get away with firing two shots from his current weapon without alerting everyone in at least the first ten floors below them. Whether or not he would be able to escape himself if it came down to that, he could not be sure; at least, not without leaving behind ample DNA evidence.

But this girl was scared for her life. She may have tried to hide it, but it was obvious, even as she cursed his name and tried to fight back against him. Surely, she wouldn't subject herself and someone else to such a certain death...

"I'm right behind you." he said finally, in a hushed voice. "If you try to run, if you say a word, if I so much as think that you're trying to tip her off or ask for help in any way, you'll both be dead before you even know what hit you." his warning was clear and unmistakable, and with that, he took a step toward her. "Now go."

He followed her through the apartment, right up to the doorway that led into the foyer. But he stopped just there, knowing that he could not be in sight when Sofia opened the front door. The bell rang again, this time much louder as they stood practically right beneath it's source. It was followed closely by a series of knocks, and an older woman's voice with a thick Spanish accent calling out- "Ms. Diaz?"

"Go." he repeated himself near silently, poking her at the small of her back with the barrel of his gun.
 
Sofia swallowed, jerking forward at the prod, and then hurried to the door, bare feet slapping against marble. She reached the door and unlocked it easily now that she wasn't being chased. Ironic that she'd tried to flee through that very door only a short time prior, and how much trouble that had caused her. Before opening it, she glanced behind her to ensure that he was out of sight. Satisfied, she pulled it open for the Hispanic woman outside.

For a moment, a brief moment, she wondered how quickly she could get through the door and close it behind her. Could she do it before he shot her? The thick, solid wooden door would provide so protection against his handgun, but would she be able to reach the stairs before he followed? She might be able to outrun him if given a head start, but the poor woman standing in front of her wouldn't stand a chance. She gave up the idea a heartbeat later with a few silent curses aimed at whatever god seemed to hate her.

"Hi, Rosita. Sorry it too so long. I'd forgotten to grab these and lay them out for you." She offered the woman her clothes to be cleaned. "The usual is fine. These don't need any special treatment. Ah, hang on. I completely forgot to give you something." Sighing, she retreated back into the foyer to fetch her purse, pulling out her wallet and a wad of bills. "Here you go. Thanks for coming up. You know I like to have things ready, but this was all so unplanned."
 
From just around the corner, he was watching, peering about the wall just a fraction, enough to see her young body standing there, handing off her clothes, and the much shorter little woman before her. He was listening in with ears honed in as intensely as possible on the words she spoke, and staring her down, scrutinizing her for any signs of abnormal behavior. As far as he could tell, there was none.

Her move for the bag, though, gave him pause. His jaw clenched as he watched her rifle through her things, and subconsciously, placed him thumb on the hammer of his weapon, and readied his finger at the trigger. He felt his heart beating in his chest as her body momentarily blocked his vision of what it was she was pulling out. Don't fucking...

Only when he saw the familiar green of the bills did he relax a fraction, and even then, not much, but enough to release his fire-ready grip. Had he not been able to see, it would have been up to his own judgement what to believe she had given her, and at that particular point in time, his judgement was already not on her side.

"Oh, its okay, you don't need to do that, señorita." The little lady said, looking gratefully back at her. "Gracias...Thank you." she said with sweet, soft-spoken gratitude in her voice.
 
"It's my pleasure for the extra effort, Rosita. When you get back downstairs, could you please tell Joel that I'm not expecting any other visitors, and I'm not to be disturbed unless it is an emergency? I've gotten my deliveries for now, and don't want any uninvited guests popping up. Just leave the clothes like normal when they're done. I don't want any other uninvited guests."

She gave the woman a wave and watched until she'd made it back to the elevator before she finally closed the door. Her forehead rested on the wood for a moment as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. She hadn't panicked, though, so for that she could be proud. Though it meant that she'd be trapped with a killer with no possibility of escape, Sofia diligently locked the door and then swung the privacy latch into place, which would prevent anyone from entering, even if they had a key.

Her legs were quivering and felt like jelly by the time she reached her purse to replace her wallet. Feeling as though she might hurl, she walked woodenly past his hiding spot, trying not to show how frightened she'd been. That he hadn't shot her should have come as a relief, but all she could feel was fear and despair as she'd utterly condemned herself to his whims.
 
He continued to listen, quietly pleased to hear what Sofia asked of the older lady. He was surprised that she would make such a request, but certainly had no qualms with it, either. No more visitors....Good. As she closed and secured the door's multiple locks behind her, he craned his head around, ensuring one final time that she was not planning anything further, observing her as she put her wallet back in its place.

It occurred to him just then that he was not at all sure of where her phone had been during all of this time. He was sure she had it somewhere close by; someone like her probably doesn't get by without checking it for too long very often... But where she had left it, he did not know. All he did know for sure was that clearly, it was not anywhere on her person. Despite that, with the momentary interruption out of the way, he did find himself much more at ease.

"No other uninvited guests, hmm?" he spoke after her as she walked past him. "That was unexpected...rather mindful of you, though, really...perhaps you're not quite as stupid as I thought, after all." He pushed himself away from the wall, following her closely.
 
"Thanks. That means ever so much to me," she muttered sarcastically in reply. "I just didn't want that happening again. I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's life... or death."

She shot him a look as she entered the kitchen, pausing at the counter. Turning suddenly, her back against the stone, she stared him down. "So what now? Back to the bedroom so you can assault me again? You want me to strip for you? And then what? You're going to fuck me with a gun to my head?"

She waved a hand at him. "I don't even know what to call you unless it's one of the many curses I know. And if you tell me to call you 'sir' or 'master', I'm going to puke on your Italian leather shoes. The way I feel, I might just do that anyhow." I need booze, she decided. Alcohol to take the edge off and make this more bearable.

Moving to the fridge, she fetched him a beer -- though didn't throw it at his head this time. She merely set it on the counter. For herself, she pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge and a bottle of vodka from the freezer, mixing a healthy measure of both into a tumbler from the cabinet. She knocked back the first before pouring herself a second to sip on as needed. With luck, she'd have a nice fuzzy buzz going before he touched her again.
 
"Mmm...Master...Now there's a thought!" he quipped, flashing her a devilish smirk. "Not sure I would have gone in that direction myself, but hey, if that's your preference, then who am I to judge?" he shrugged. "It does have a certain allure to it, coming for your bitchy, pouty little lips."

He approached the countertop, setting down his gun beside him and grabbing the beer she'd placed there. He did not bother with an opener of any kind. Instead, he pressed the ridge of the cap against the edge of the stone and brought his palm down upon the bottle, popping it open with a thud in a single, clean motion and sending the top flying straight upward. He glanced up at it, wrapping one hand around the bottle and effortlessly plucking it from the air with the other, before tossing it onto the surface of the counter, where it landed with a satisfying clink.

"Call it what you want, but your cunt sure seemed to be enjoying it." He pointed out, lifting his hand and wagging his fingers as if to show her what he'd used. Then, taking a long swig that more or less emptied the bottle halfway, he leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbows, observing her as she reached for all her ingredients, each time flashing him the bottom curve of her round ass from beneath her long top. "Besides, does it really matter what my name is?" he inquired in cynical fashion. "Chances are you won't be calling me anything outside of your rich vocabulary of curses, anyways." Not like I haven't heard them all before.

"Unfortunately for you, I do have some responsibilities of my own to tend to rather shortly." he glanced at the stove's digital clock behind her as she made her second drink, and then down at his own watch, making sure the time was right. "That being said, if you're asking me to pick up where I left off, while I'm flattered, I'm afraid I'll have to politely take a rain check, for now." He took another sip from his bottle, which did little to hide his smug countenance.
 
She scowled and flipped him off, telling him exactly what she thought of that little plan. "While you're out, maybe you can go on a property search to find another damned place to conduct your business." Her hand slapped down on the bottle cap and slid it off the counter to toss into the garbage. While she had the closet open, she pulled out the broom and dustpan. "Maybe you can think about not coming back, too. I'll get along fine without you. Promise."

Leaving her drink on the counter, she took the broom into living room where the bottle had shattered. Thankfully, it had missed the rug, but the floor behind the sofa was covered in a layer of beer with glass shards scattered throughout. Trying to be careful, she began to sweep up both liquid and glass into her standing dustpan. It wasn't like she hadn't had wild thrasher parties where her place had been trashed by her wasted friends. Or people that called themselves her friends. She honestly couldn't think of a single guy friend that would bail her out of trouble if she asked. Most just hung around to eat her food, drink her booze, and fuck her hot model friends. And the girls? They were infinitely worse. Catty and jealous, always trying to make each other look bad. It could be so exhausting.

She'd gotten all of the glass that she could find and much of the beer by the time she'd finished. The dustpan swiveled as she lifted it off the floor, allowing her to carry the liquid without it sloshing. "Don't be alarmed. I'm going to the laundry to dump this out. You want to hold that gun on me so I don't get any idea about shoving you in the dryer?"
 
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