by Lizzy Bequin
I roll up my sleeves and grab hold of the girl, dragging her convulsing body onto the mattress. I sit down, positioning myself behind her with her body situated between my legs. I need to keep this as impersonal as I can.
But holding her close like this, her fragile little body leaning back into my chest, is almost unbearable. The scent wafting from her hair is beyond intense. I feel myself growing drunk on it. And as she shifts and spasms wildly, her body rubs against the growing erection between my legs.
Control. Must maintain control above all things.
I clutch her tightly against me to still her shuddering spasms. Hooking my feet under her legs, I spread them open, giving me access to her sensitive parts. The smell of her hot, sweltering need floods the room. That aroma, combined with the soft, helpless whispers issuing from her throat hardens my cock until it is rigid as an iron rod.
I shift my hips enough to ease the tension on my straining erection, and then I set to work, drawing on my last reserves of discipline to stay focused through the fog of arousal.
My free hand moves to her hips, fingers curling beneath the hem of her skirt, hiking it up to expose her panties. As I look over her shoulder, my mouth waters at the sight of her soft mound concealed beneath the black lace.
Focus. Stay in control.
Her breath catches as my fingers delve between her spread thighs. The pads of my fingertips trace the groove of her parting through the soft fabric of her panties, which is moist with her need.
She whines lightly as her head lolls against my heaving chest. Can she feel my heart hammering like it’s trying to escape?
I slide my fingers along the length of her lace-covered groove until I feel the hard, ripe berry of her clit, hard as a pearl beneath the fabric. The slightest pressured there makes her moan, her body tensing in my grip.
Her tiny hands clutch at the cloth of my slacks, and she whispers in a barely audible voice.
“Please…”
I don’t know if she’s begging for me to stop or if she wants more. And it doesn’t matter. I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose this target after all the trouble we’ve been through to apprehend her. I’m going to see this fucking mission through to completion.
Her spasms have weakened enough that I can loosen my grip on her torso. My hand cups the gentle curve of her right breast. Her nipple is as hard as a pebble beneath her top. I strum it lightly with my thumb.
It requires a conscious effort to keep my claws retracted. My dark, animal needs are screaming to unsheathe them and tear this delicate creature to shreds.
I realize that I’m growling, and I can’t remember when the sound started, nor can I seem to stop myself.
“Oh, please,” she gasps,
She tosses her head back against my shoulder as my fingers work their way beneath the elastic of her panties. My senses thrill as I feel her soft tuft of curls. Working their way lower, my fingers dip between her moistened petals. I separate her folds, coating my fingers with the slick that is flowing from inside her.
She whines through her nose and bucks against me, but I keep her trapped and spread as I continue rubbing her with a steady rhythm.
“You need to come,” I whisper to her, lips brushing against the fragile shell of her ear, my teeth aching to sink themselves into her soft flesh. “Do you understand?”
Gathering her abundant slick, I spread it over her clit, working her throbbing nub in tight circles. Her thighs judder and slip free from my hooked feet. She clamps her thighs tightly. I hook my knees over her legs and force them apart that way, keeping her spread wide so I can do what needs to be done.
Meanwhile, my cock is so hard it feels like it could snap in two at any minute. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. The need to bury my hardness in her wet depths is like a consuming flame. My skin burns with the urge to fuck her. The urge to break her.
This needs to end before I surrender to my primal needs.
“I said come.”
Trembling with a hybrid emotion of rage and lust, I release her breast and send that hand between her legs as well. With a sound of ripping fabric, I tear her panties away and toss them aside. She gasps weakly.
Now that she is fully exposed down there, I can really go to town on her. While the fingers of one hand continue strumming her hard little pearl, the other teases at her needful opening.
“Oh…”
She moans as my finger slips into her entrance. My growling becomes louder as I feel how tender and moist she is inside. My finger is slathered in her thick lubrication as I push farther inside, exploring and seeking that special place that I know will make her release for me. She gyrates her hips, helping me work deeper and deeper. The thick scent wafting from her hole invades my nostrils, pushing me closer to the edge.
“Fuck, you feel so good in there,” I groan. “So soft. So smooth.”
My voice has taken on an inhuman tone.
She whimpers and presses the curve of her butt into my lap, grinding against the hardened pole of my erection. Whether she’s doing that on purpose or not, I don’t know. If she is, she’s playing a dangerous game.
But I can tell she’s getting close. Her tender spot has swollen to a small lump, and her inner walls have engorged and inflated with arousal, making it a struggle to squeeze a second finger inside. Once I’ve got it in, I tickle her most sensitive place with a double rhythm to match the way my other fingers are frantically rubbing her clit.
She’s squirming wildly now, nearly wriggling out of my grasp. I need three fucking hands for this girl.
“Come, damn you,” I snarl.
And then I bite, clamping my jaw onto the gentle curve where her neck joins her shoulder. It’s all I can do to keep myself from biting down with all of my might. Despite holding myself back, my sharp canines still break the skin, and I taste the hot iron of her blood.
At least now I can hold her steady.
She yelps in pain and shock, but that sound is soon lost in a loud, sobbing moan as she finally releases. The force of the climax wracks her body, arching her back as she shudders through the orgasm. More slick spurts from between her legs, staining the sheets with her pleasure.
Her hips buck, and I grunt as her tailbone slams against my aching shaft. But I’m grateful for the small pain, which keeps my mind clear of the lust-fog that threatens to overcome me.
And all the while I’m growling as my teeth stay latched to the soft crook of her neck.
I don’t stop stroking and strumming her inside and out. Not until the last shuddering wave of her orgasm has passed through her muscles. Not until her small body goes limp in my arms with exhaustion. Not until she pleads with me to stop.
“Please,” she whispers, “Oh God, I can’t take any more.”
I release my bite and withdraw my fingers before shoving her away from me. Her body bounces limply on the mattress. I stand, straightening my clothes and licking her blood away from my lips.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask, looking down at her prone body. Her soft, beautiful young ass is totally exposed by her hiked up skirt.
She doesn’t answer. But the rise and fall of her ribs shows her breathing to be steady, and her body is no longer convulsing with spasms.
I kneel beside her and wipe my wet fingers on my slacks before pressing them to her jugular to check her pulse.
“I’m sorry I bit you,” I mutter, looking at the small punctures in her skin. They are only flesh wounds, little more than small nicks. I could have inflicted so much worse. A few seconds more, and I probably would have.
I pull her skirt down to cover her ass, then rise to go, leaving the light on as I exit the room. I lock the door behind me.
“How was she?”
Kruger is leaning in the bathroom door on the other side of the loft, shirt off and a blood drenched towel draped over his shoulder. His face is already mostly healed from our fight. His accelerated healing is even faster than it used to be. His Alpha conditioning is
increasing.
I can’t help but wonder if they’ve been giving him more serum. It would certainly explain his erratic behavior.
An evil smile touches his lips.
“Fuck, you must have really gone to town on her.” He gestures with his finger on his chin. “I didn’t think you had it in you, big guy. Hope you left something for later at least.”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind him, and I realize what he’s referring to. A thin trickle of bright blood has striped my chin. I wipe it away with the back of my hand.
“Fuck off. I only did what had to be done.”
I drop into a folding chair and lean back running my hand through my hair. It’s still slightly wet from Amrita and coated in her scent. If Kruger wasn’t blocking the doorway to the bathroom, I would go wash my hands. But right now I don’t want to go near him. I just want to be alone.
The wide-open, empty loft is already starting to feel a little too claustrophobic for my tastes.
Outside, the sun is going down, angling warm golden rays through the big window at the far end of the loft.
“I’m going out,” Kruger says, pulling a fresh shirt from the black duffle bag. “It’ll be dark soon. I’m gonna get rid of the kid’s body.”
His attitude is totally calm now. If he’s harboring any resentment about the fight, he’s doing a good job of concealing it. He buttons up the shirt and tucks it in, then shucks his shoulders into his slightly rumpled jacket which didn’t get too tattered during our fight since he flung it off before the worst of it.
Kruger crosses the loft to the stairs that lead to the garage below.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he says as he grabs the car keys from their hook by the door. “Try not to eat the girl while I’m gone, okay?”
I listen to the sound of his cowboy boots stomping down the stairs, followed shortly by the sound of the garage door and the Tahoe starting up and pulling away.
I wipe my hands across my sweat drenched brow, smearing the girl’s scent all over me on accident.
She’s on my fingers. In my clothes and in my hair. The smell is driving me insane again. Part of me—the dark, animalistic part—is screaming to kick down her door, go back in there, and claim her right this instant. To spread those smooth thighs and fill her with gouts of hot cum.
I take a deep breath.
There’s another side to me. A part of me that feels compelled to protect her at all costs. That’s the part that’s winning.
For now.
I get up and head into the bathroom to shower. I need to wash away this blood and sweat. And most of all I need to wash away Amrita.
CHAPTER 8: AMRITA
I lie face down on the bed, the aftershocks of my orgasm still echoing through my body in ripples. I’ve never experienced anything so intense in all my life. It was like the most distilled form of pure bliss imaginable.
And I’m so ashamed.
I’m ashamed because I enjoyed it. I loved every ecstatic second of it, and my body is crying out for more.
I flop onto my back and stare at the blank, white ceiling.
It’s so wrong. I shouldn’t be enjoying anything about this experience. I’ve been kidnapped. I’m a prisoner here, and my captives are two very dangerous men. One of them is basically a total psycho, and his friend seems like he isn’t far behind, honestly.
Plus, they’re killers.
After Conway left the room, I could hear their muffled voices talking outside. I couldn’t make out every detail, but I think Kruger said he was going to get rid of “the kid’s body.” I can only guess that he was talking about Trent.
Tears start welling in my eyes as I think about what happened.
Trent was a piece of shit. He tried to rape me, and that’s unforgivable. But I’ve never seen someone die before, and especially not a violent death at the hands of a crazed hitman.
My body shivers as a chill warbles through me.
This whole situation is too messed up to even comprehend. I have so many questions running through my mind, it’s like a crowd of voices all shouting and clamoring for attention.
I’ve got to calm down. As bad as this situation is, letting myself spiral into a panic won’t help anything.
Taking a better look around the room I’m in, I start to question the motives of my captors.
The room is not exactly nice, but it could also be a lot worse. It’s not like they’ve stuck me in some rat-infested dungeon somewhere. The walls have been painted recently. There’s a mattress with clean sheets and pillow cases.
Well, they used to be clean anyway.
At any rate, whoever is behind this kidnapping, it seems like they want me alive and relatively well.
Suddenly I jerk upright into a sitting position as a strange feeling washes over my body. At first I’m worried that I’m going to have another seizure like before. I’m even on the verge of shouting for help.
But this is different.
It feels…good.
I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but every few seconds I feel a slight pulse of sensation. It’s almost like a very light orgasm, but instead of being centered between my legs, it seems to bounce around between different parts of my body. First, I feel it in my thighs. Then in my tushy.
But I definitely feel it the strongest in my breasts.
I gasp as the sensation surges in my chest. My nipples feel tender and overly sensitive, and my breasts feel slightly swollen, kind of like before my period. But that’s usually painful. This feeling is more like…
A tickle.
Then it’s gone.
Still clasping my arms around my breasts, I slip off the bed. The smooth hardwood floor is cold against the bottoms of my bare feet, and I curse myself for not wearing socks last night.
But then, I had no idea I would be getting kidnapped. If I did, I probably would have stayed at home.
My ripped panties are lying on the floor where Conway tossed them, and I kick them aside. I pace along the perimeter of the room, waving one hand up and down the painted brick wall as I go, although I don’t know what I’m hoping to find. I suppose a loose brick that triggers a hidden door is probably too much to ask.
Once I’ve gone all the way around, I check the ceiling. It’s high. A good fifteen feet at least. There’s an air duct, but there’s no way I could ever reach it, and even if I could, it’s way too small to try and squeeze my body inside.
So much for that idea.
I lift the mattress and check underneath. Nothing.
It looks like I’m well and truly stuck.
Dejected, I sit back down on the edge of the mattress, and my thoughts drift to my dad. He must be freaking out by now. Surely he’s called the police. Maybe even the FBI. But how the heck will they ever find me? There were no witnesses to the kidnapping last night.
As far as I know, I’m totally screwed.
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I whisper.
To think, all this time I’ve been aching to get out from under his watchful eye, and now just look where it’s landed me. I guess he was right all along.
But he also hid things from me. Important things.
The mattress squeaks lightly as I crawl back until I can prop my back against the wall. I draw my legs up against my chest, knees tucked under my chin, and I wrap my arms around my shins.
Dad lied to me about my condition and the medication. Or at least he didn’t give me the whole truth. He certainly never mentioned anything about needing to have an orgasm to survive. Maybe he didn’t know about that? Maybe he was too embarrassed to bring it up? Or maybe he didn’t want me to know for some other reason…
And what about his paranoia? The guns. The alarm system. Never letting me out of his sight. I always thought that was just him being overprotective. But now I’m starting to wonder if he was expecting people to come after me.
That picture of him and my mom as young scientists working on a government project flashes brief
ly through my mind’s eye.
But before I have a chance to think about that too deeply, that peculiar sensation floods through me again. I suck in a sharp inhale of air as the strange feeling flutters through my body. This time it’s much stronger, and it’s so much like tickling that I actually release a giggle, as messed up as that is.
I fall back on the bed.
What the hell is happening to me now?
CHAPTER 9: CONWAY
Outside the big floor-to-ceiling window, I watch as the morning sun steps over the eastern skyline, its rays illuminating the loft.
Kruger still hasn’t come back. That’s a bad sign.
I stretch and twist, popping the aching stiffness in my back. I spent the night slouching in a folding chair with my 10mm Glock in my hand. The Alpha conditioning lets me enter a state of half-sleep so I can rejuvenate my brain while my senses remain alert. I did that shit all night long. It’s every bit as boring as it sounds.
Standing at the window, I scan the street below. Empty. I go downstairs and check the garage. No signs of Kruger or the Tahoe.
“Where the hell could he be?” I mutter to myself as I stomp back up the stairs.
I grab a steak out if the freezer, tear open the butcher paper that it’s wrapped in, and dig in, not even bothering to cook it. Hell, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, the company didn’t provide any cooking implements aside from the microwave.
The metallic, bloody taste of the raw meat is immensely satisfying.
Earlier, I took the police scanner out of my duffle bag and set it on the spool table to check it every so often. While I’m having my breakfast, I switch it on once again, sifting through the chatter for any word of Kruger. I don’t hear anything that sounds like it could have been him.
But if he hasn’t gotten busted by the cops, then what happened? Maybe he’s gone AWOL. Or maybe somebody from the company finally pinched him. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sit well with me.
I toss the clean bone of the steak into the trash. I’m still hungry, and I consider eating another steak or maybe a piece of liver, but I decide to wait.