Hold

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Hold Page 3

by Claire Kent


  With a guttural sound, he jerked his head back to glare at the onlookers. “Back off,” he bit out, the words almost a snarl.

  They backed off.

  Riana felt the oddest sensation in her chest. A weird, unnerving kind of satisfaction. That everyone else feared him and that he was fucking her.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, stretching beneath him and trying to loosen her muscles even more.

  He didn’t respond except with a curt nod. Then he began to thrust again.

  This time, when she started up her massage of her clit, she felt her pussy clench in response. Suddenly realizing that she should probably try to be a better fuck, lest he decide she wasn’t enjoyable enough for him to bother with, she tried to pump her hips a little, matching the rhythm of his steady thrusts.

  She gasped and arched up as she felt another tug of pleasure shoot down to her pussy.

  “Fuck!” he gritted out, his face twisting again as he paused with his cock buried inside her.

  Riana was panting now, and her lips parted as she stared up him. “Wha—” she began. It looked like he was in horrible pain.

  He thrust again, then fell out of rhythm completely. His grunts turned rough and primal as his hips jerked and pistoned against her. “Fuck. Oh fuck!”

  She parted her thighs even farther as he drove into her in hard, choppy strokes. His motion was urgent, clumsy, and animalistic, and his features contorted with pleasure and effort.

  He came hard. At least, it appeared he did, as he let out an agonized groan and pushed into her a few last times.

  He released inside her and then lowered himself over her, bending his arms for more support.

  They were both gasping desperately as his body began to relax above her, the clenched muscles loosening and his stoic features softening in carnal satisfaction.

  His breath was hot and damp against the skin of her cheek as he muttered, “It’s been a long time for me.”

  He’d been here a year, and apparently had fucked no one in all that time. It wasn’t as long as it had been for Riana, but a year was still a significant length of time.

  She wondered why he’d told her that.

  She was just recognizing the gush of his semen in her pussy and assuring herself that she was up-to-date on her yearly birth control and disease treatments when suddenly all light left the cell, the entire Hold falling into pitch darkness.

  Stiffening in fear, Riana let out a strangled cry—feeling like her worst nightmares were coming true.

  She didn’t like total darkness, and there wasn’t even the faintest trace of light left.

  “Lights out,” the man explained. “Same time every night.”

  She hadn’t even realized it was night. She hadn’t begun to develop a sense of timing on this planet. “I don’t suppose you have a night light?” She pitched her voice to sound unconcerned, but it was a serious question.

  “There is no light at night.” He slid his softening cock out of her pussy and rolled over, stretching out with what sounded like a sated groan.

  Riana couldn’t even see the form of his body beside her. She couldn’t see anything at all. She groped around and was relieved when she felt her panties and pants on the floor. She fumbled until she’d put them on. Then she felt around on the mattress until she’d found her camisole.

  The man was breathing deeply. He might have even been asleep.

  Riana had no idea what she was supposed to do. The bed was small, and a bed in a place like this would be a commodity. Would he even want to share it with her at night?

  There would be nowhere else for her to sleep except the floor, and she wasn’t about to leave the safety of those bars and that lock.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, blinking in the hopes that her eyes would adjust.

  They didn’t. There wasn’t even light enough for her vision to adjust to the darkness. She still couldn’t see anything at all.

  She could sleep on the floor. Maybe he’d give her a blanket—the bed had more than one, although they were all thread-bare and tattered. But who knew what kind of creepy-crawlers lurked on the floor in the dark? Rats had spread from Earth to every planet in the Coalition, and every planet had its variety of bugs.

  But she wasn’t about to get on this man’s nerves. He was by far her best choice in this hellhole.

  So she got up onto shaky legs and felt blindly in front of her, trying to decide where the best place to lie down was.

  “What are you doing?” The gruff words came out of the darkness, making her gasp in surprise.

  She turned back toward the bed, although she still couldn’t see a thing. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if you wanted me to sleep on the bed.”

  There was a pause. Then, “You don’t want to sleep on the floor. Trust me. You can sleep on the bed.”

  With a sound of relief, she groped back toward the bed, banging her shin on the frame. “Shit.”

  She fumbled forward, climbing in again and accidentally landing her hand on a hard, warm part of his body. “Sorry.” She jerked her hand away, flushing with embarrassment. She had no idea what she’d touched. His whole body was hard and warm.

  Then she felt those big, calloused hands on her thigh. They traveled up until he’d taken her by the shoulders and moved her to the opposite side of the bed. “Sleep next to the wall. I don’t like feeling boxed in.”

  Riana had no complaints, and with a little maneuvering she stretched out next to the wall. He shared the covers with her so she felt basically comfortable—except she was hungry and a little sore between her legs.

  She was finally able to relax as she pulled the covers up to her chin. The warm presence of his body beside her was oddly reassuring. Anyone would have to come through him to get to her.

  It was ironic, that he said he didn’t like to be boxed in.

  He was boxed in here. In the cell. In the Hold. On this hellish, inescapable planet.

  She wondered what he’d done to get here.

  Then decided she was better off not knowing.

  * * *

  She was surprised she actually fell asleep. And even more surprised that she had a sex dream, given the incongruous circumstances.

  It was a dream without specific context—just brief glimpses of erotic images and tangled bodies mingled with the presence of physical desire.

  When she awoke, it was still pitch black, and Riana was hot and aroused, her face pressed up against a hard chest and her fingers groping at the belly.

  Her first instinct was to sustain the activity and combine it with a humping motion against the strong leg she felt.

  But then she came to her senses. Remembered where she was. And who she was with.

  She jerked up with a sharp gasp. “Oh.”

  There was a rustling of the bedding as the man moved beneath her.

  Then he grabbed her and rolled her over. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him above her—his legs between hers, his hands planted on either side of her shoulders.

  Her body was still pulsing with arousal and—despite the situation—she couldn’t help but thrust her hips up and rub her groin against his.

  If he’d been holding himself back, that move snapped the last thread of his control. He hooked his hands around her thighs and spread them so that he could rub his hard cock against the fabric of her pants, just over her pussy.

  Riana whimpered and groped above her until she could claw at his shoulders.

  They fumbled around until her pants were off again and her camisole was pushed up above her breasts. He lowered his mouth to one of her nipples—sucking and nipping at it until she was squirming and biting her lip to suppress her cries in response.

  He didn’t waste much time on foreplay. Riana’s pussy was wet and aching, and she mewed in relief when he lined his cock up at her entrance and sank in.

  It was tight but not uncomfortable this time. And his first thrust caused her to arch her spine and make a silly, childish sound of pleasure.


  She couldn’t see him at all. Just feel him—hot, urgent, and so incredibly strong—as he worked up a fast, steady rhythm of thrusts and grunts.

  He kept his arms bent this time so his face was close to her—so close she could feel the panting of his breath against her hot skin. Her breasts rubbed against his chest as they rutted, and a deep pressure at her center swelled up into the beginnings of an orgasm.

  Her body was moving of its own accord, pumping and rocking beneath him. Their pelvises were too close for her to squeeze her hand between, but by angling her hips she could get some stimulation of her clit from his pubic bone.

  Huffing out soft, little sounds of effort, Riana clawed at his neck and shoulders. His speed accelerated, his thrusts becoming fast and clumsy, shaking the bed and her body until her breasts jiggled.

  “Oh God,” she gasped. “Gonna come!”

  His grunts turned animalistic as he levered up on each in-stroke.

  She came with a muffled cry, her body shaking and spasming as the pleasure pulsed through her.

  He was right behind her, pushing against her contractions with a few last rough exclamations.

  His weight lowered over her as both of them started to come down. He was heavy and hot, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The texture of his breath was thick and damp next to her ear.

  After a minute, he pulled up and rolled over, groaning as he sprawled out on his back.

  It was still too dark to see anything.

  Riana was burning with lingering pleasure and with absolute embarrassment. She never would have believed she could come—have an actual orgasm, a good one—in a situation like this.

  She didn’t know this man. She never would have slept with him if she’d been in any normal situation.

  But their blind, groping, half-asleep coupling might have been the best fuck of her life.

  She’d thought he’d gone to sleep again, but suddenly his low voice wafted over toward her. “I’m Cain.”

  “What?”

  “My name. Cain.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed and stared up at the blackness above her. “Hi.”

  They lay in silence for a long time. She thought once more he’d fallen asleep, but then he surprised her by a question. “Why me?”

  It seemed to come out of the blue, but she knew exactly what he was asking.

  There were any number of answers to that question. There was no one better. He was the only one she could tolerate. She’d noticed the signs that revealed he could take what he wanted, even in a place like this.

  But there was only one answer that mattered, so she told him the truth in the dark. “You’re the strongest one here.”

  Two

  Riana woke up when all the lights in the Hold went on.

  Blinking, she tried to adjust to the sudden brightness, feeling a pang of soreness between her legs and stickiness from not washing up after he’d ejaculated inside her twice.

  She felt achy and exhausted, and her stomach felt like a heavy stone in her gut.

  But at least she was alive. And healthy.

  When all the odds had been against her.

  Cain was still in bed too, but his eyes were open, staring fixedly at the ceiling. His arms were crossed behind his head¸ and the covers were pushed down around his belly.

  She couldn’t believe she’d fucked him. Twice. And come the second time.

  She started to say something—just some trivial comment in order to break the silence—but then she stopped herself. He didn’t appear to be in a conversational mood, and the last thing she wanted to do was annoy him.

  After a few minutes, he glanced over at her and held her eyes with his.

  He still didn’t speak, however, and Riana was getting anxious about the prolonged silence.

  Was he planning to tell her he’d had his fill of her already?

  She wasn’t the best fuck in the world, but once she warmed up she’d be better. He could at least give her more of a chance.

  She actually gasped when he finally moved, so primed was she to handle whatever crisis reared its head next, but he just strode back to the bathroom.

  When she heard a sudden roar of noise from outside the cell, she sat up straight in bed, her heart pounding in terror. It sounded like a riot had just exploded out of nowhere. She’d heard disturbing sounds all night—crude voices, grunts, and screams triggered by God knew what—but it hadn’t been anything like this.

  Cain came out of the bathroom and noticed her frozen demeanor.

  “Meal time,” he explained brusquely. “It’s not pretty.” After quickly washing his face and hands in the sink, he shook himself off like a dog and continued, “I’ll be back. You’ll want to stay here.”

  Riana hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours, and she would soon be faint from hunger. But the sound of the madness triggered by the arrival of food—like wild cats fighting over a carcass—kept her from complaining about his plan. “Can…can you lock me in?”

  “Of course. What else?”

  She flushed at his impatient response and said no more as he picked up a large bowl, a bottle, and a spoon from the table, unlocked the barred door, stepped out, and locked it again behind him. There must be only one key, which he kept on him at all times.

  She used the bathroom while he was gone and was relieved that there were no lurkers, slinking outside the bars to ogle or intimidate her. Meal time must take everyone’s attention.

  Cain returned in less than ten minutes. He had the large bowl filled with something that smelled like stew, a hunk of bread and two bottles. He must have found another one.

  He tossed her one of the bottles, which she accepted appreciatively, gulping down the water inside.

  But it would have been nice if he’d brought her some food too.

  She wouldn’t dream of complaining for fear of annoying him even more, but he was going to have to feed her eventually if he wanted to keep her alive to fuck her.

  He put down the bowl and the bread on the table and then set down something he’d had tucked under his arm.

  It was another bowl. A smaller one and empty.

  Riana just stared as he spooned some of the stew from the large one into the empty one.

  “How much do you want?”

  Almost speechless with surprise and relief, Riana choked, “That’s enough. Thanks.”

  He handed her the stew and broke off half the bread for her. He also had an extra spoon. She assumed he must have claimed them from one of the other prisoners.

  She ate ravenously. It wasn’t very good—the stew was thick and bland, and the bread was dry—but she was too hungry to care.

  When she’d scraped the bottom of the bowl, Cain had already finished. He raised one eyebrow at her quizzically. “You want more?”

  The riotous sounds from outside were subsiding. “It sounds like the food is gone.”

  “I can get more.”

  There was something dangerous, almost predatory about the way he said the words. Riana gulped. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Not wanting to be useless, she got up from the bed and went to wash out the bowls and spoons.

  Cain didn’t say anything else. Instead, he did a few stretches and then started doing chin-ups on one of the horizontal bars of the cell.

  She watched as he did a lengthy exercise routine—chin-ups, sit-ups, push-ups, and several other strengthening routines.

  His body was gorgeous. Honed tight and powerful like a racehorse but still graceful—without the unattractively overdeveloped muscles she’d seen on several men in the prison.

  He was tight and efficient, and more dangerous because of it.

  She pulled on her shirt over her camisole and straightened the bed, but then was at a loss for what to do.

  Cain wasn’t any help in that department. When he’d finished his work-out, he unlocked the door. “I’ll be back.”

  Then he locked the door behind her.

  She saw him take off at a run and figured maybe he ran aro
und the Hold every morning for exercise.

  And for something to do.

  That was nice for him. To be able to do something.

  She couldn’t do anything.

  Finally, she moved to the far corner of the cell and ran in place for a while. Then she did some jumping jacks, and then some yoga stretches.

  As she was leaning over, stretching down with her hands on the floor, she became conscious of voices behind her.

  She’d started to block out the constant sound of the Hold, having it blur into a vague mumble, but these voices were close.

  And she could hear the words.

  “Look at that ass. Makes me want to ram my dick into it until she screams.”

  “I’d make her scream all right.”

  Riana jerked up and whirled around, saw Asp standing with another prisoner. They were right at the bars, leering in at her.

  And their offensive, objectifying expressions made her feel suddenly sick.

  She wasn’t going to show them they’d gotten to her, though. With a cold glare, she bit out, “Get the fuck away.”

  Asp cackled maliciously. “The bitch wants to put up a fight.”

  “You’d think a whore would know her place.”

  “She knows her place. On her back with her legs spread.”

  Riana’s vision blurred. She hadn’t spent her life being coddled, and she knew how to handle herself in most situations. She’d spent her teenage years basically independent, since her grandmother wasn’t much of an authority, so she figured she was tougher than a lot of women.

  But she’d never been confronted with that kind of coarse, demeaning objectification. Her cheeks burned with anger and mortification, and she turned her back to them.

  That was a mistake.

  The second man bombarded her with ribald laughter. “Looks like she prefers it from behind. Gotta love that ass.”

  Riana knew she shouldn’t back down, but she couldn’t take much more of this. Talking back to them would just encourage their verbal assault, but she was trapped in this cell, unable to get away from them.

  She withstood their continued nastiness as long as she could, but it grew progressively worse.

 

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