by H. R. Owen
“What the fuck am I doing?” I ask myself as I pull away from her shaking my head.
I’ve never wanted a woman like this before. It’s confusing the fuck out of me, and I’m not sure I can hold back from fucking her right now. I have to. I want her to be willing and begging, though, writhing beneath me when my cock’s inside her. I want to hear her scream my name when I make her come.
Dragging myself off the bed, I pull the sheets up and cover her breasts trying to resist my urges, and then head downstairs to the kitchen. Walking through the large living area, staring at the blank white walls, I suddenly feel like they’re empty.
Where are these feelings coming from?
What’s she doing to me?
And how am I going to control myself around this woman?
As I enter the kitchen, there’s a bottle of scotch sitting on the gray granite counter top.
“Ahhh… just what I need.” I let out with a relieved sigh. On my way to grab the scotch, I fetch a small tumbler out of the cupboard and place it on the bench next to the bottle and find myself staring at it in a daze. I finally pour two fingers of the amber liquid into the glass, and toss it back in one giant gulp, burning my chest as I swallow. It’s nowhere near hitting the spot, so I grab the whole bottle and retreat to the living room taking big mouthfuls on the way.
Maybe if I put some music on, it will clear my mind of the woman in my bed.
Strolling over to the stereo, I put the radio on and drop down on the couch, pushing the recliner out and taking another swig from the bottle. I start thinking about the luscious nipples that were in my mouth. How they felt. How they tasted. My cock comes to life at the thought. I pull my zipper down to free the hard bulge which is straining against my jeans. My cock springs up, and I wrap my hands around it, slowly pumping it down and then back up again. Heat spreads through my entire body as I begin to pump harder.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Eventually, my wrist is jerking at a fast rate, and I feel myself close to coming.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
It’s all it takes, and I let go of my release with the image of perfect tits bouncing on my tongue. My orgasm comes powerfully, bursting from my cock, spraying my shirt with the hot liquid.
When I finally gain my breath, I strip down and head for the shower to clean off. The bathroom is an open wet room style and has no doors to block it off from the bedroom. I walk past the perfect tits that just filled my mind and step into the bathroom. Turning the water on in the open, screenless shower, I try to make it as hot as I can without it scalding my skin. Steam builds around the bathroom fogging up the large mirrors above the vanity and flowing out into the bedroom. The water’s finally hot enough to step underneath it flowing down from the shower head. Squirting a significant amount of body wash into my hand, I scrub my skin until any traces of blood and cum washes away down the drain.
Stepping out of the shower, I grab my towel off the rack and wrap it around my waist, tucking it in as tight as I can and make my way back to the bedroom to pull some sleep pants from my drawer.
“What’s going on?” a soft croaky voice asks.
I turn to look at the sexy woman, and my towel loosens and drops to the floor.
“Where am I?”
Sitting up in the bed with the sheet around her waist, breasts exposed, is the stunning creature that’s haunting my thoughts.
“Hey, darlin’,” I drawl.
“Who are you? And why are you naked? Did… did you have sex with me?” she stammers.
Following her eyes, I look down spotting my erect cock bobbing around with my movements, and a smirk takes over my face.
“Sorry, sweetheart, the name’s Callen. And no, I didn’t have sex with you. When I do, I want you begging for it. And I’m naked because I just got out of the shower,” I explain, picking my towel up from the floor I hold it up for her to see.
Her face drops down to her shoulder, and she places a hand on the bandaged wound. “I got shot. I remember.” She takes a long breath, twisting up her face. “I also remember you shooting a man and hauling me off into some ridiculous car, refusing to let me go.”
She sounds pretty fucked off.
“Darlin’… first of all, my car isn’t ridiculous. That black beauty is a 1967 Chevy Impala in mint condition, and it cost me a small fortune. Second… yes, I did shoot a man, but I also saved your life. And last… I’m not letting you go because I don’t need you running your mouth off to the cops about anything you saw last night.”
“What were you doing on the docks with a loaded gun anyway? And can you please cover that thing up?” she shouts awkwardly pointing to my dick.
I stalk over to her, my cock mere inches away from her face, and I hear her gasp as her head ducks down trying to avoid it. She notices that her tits are out on display and lets out another gasp as she pulls the sheet up covering herself.
“Just need to get some pants on, darlin’,” I say as I turn away from her and walk to my drawers. I can feel her eyes are on my ass the entire time, but I don’t turn around. I simply pull out a pair of sleep pants and bend over in front of her pulling them up my legs.
She jumps up from the bed and storms over poking me in the chest. “Like hell, you can’t keep me here,” she spits. “Look… thank you for saving me and fixing my shoulder, but I really need to get home. I don’t want my family looking for me, and I’m sure as hell you don’t either.”
Locking my eyes on hers, I whisper, “They’ll never find you, darlin’.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh as she looks down at my chest with lust gleaming in her eyes.
“Like what you see, darlin’?” I ask, but it comes out more of a statement. She snaps out of her daydream with a shake of her head, and suddenly she’s running out the bedroom door.
“Wait,” I yell. Running after her, I grab a pair of handcuffs from my bedside table and chase her through the house. She’s a quick little thing, but I’m faster. I catch up to her within seconds and grab her by the wrists pulling her to my chest. She throws her arms around, trying to loosen my grip. She’s strong, but her tiny frame is no match for a large one.
Giving up, her body sags against mine, so I lift her off her feet and scoop her into my arms, carrying her back to the bed. My large body straddles hers, pinning her down while I wrap the cuff around her wrist, then fixing the open cuff to the bed rail. She struggles on the bed beneath me, and my hard cock starts rubbing against her stomach.
“Don’t move, sweetheart… you fighting me… it makes me hard as a fucking rock.”
DAHLIA
Callen’s straddling me, and his huge erection is rubbing against my stomach in a way I wish was between my legs. This man has kidnapped me, chained me to a bed, and all I can think about is fucking him. Tattoos cover his muscled arms and run down over his hard pecs, leading down to his massive cock. His brown hair is short, but not too short, and it’s still wet, dripping on my bare skin as he moves. Feeling the moisture build between my legs, I rub them together trying to pick up any friction.
Who is this guy?
And why am I giving up so easy?
Usually, I’d have kicked him in the dick by now and been out the door in a heartbeat. But for some unknown reason, I actually feel quite happy to stay and play this out.
“Don’t move, sweetheart… you fighting me… it makes me hard as a fucking rock,” he spits out with a hard smirk on his gorgeous lips.
Biting my lip, I look up and give him my most innocent look. “Um… Callen?” I ask.
“Yeah, darlin’,” he drawls. “By the way… what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Um… Dahlia… Dahlia Moore,” I hesitate. “I could really use a shower, Callen.”
“Mmm…” I hear him moan. He strides over to the big open bathroom to the side of the bed without saying a word and turns the bath water on. Stalking back toward me, his mouth in a hard line, he unhooks the cuff from the bed leaving it swinging from my wrist. He pick
s me up from the bed, being careful not to touch the wound on my shoulder, places me swiftly to my feet, and wraps the open cuff around his own wrist.
“What are you doing?” I gasp.
“Well, darlin’, I don’t really feel like chasing you again. So, I’m going to keep you company while you wash that perfect body of yours.”
Two can play that game. I’m going to tease him until he crumbles.
Trying to remove my tight pants with one hand proves to be harder than I thought. “Um… I can’t get my pants down. Do you mind?” I ask, biting my lip. Callen bends down in front of my crotch, and I can hear a groan escape his lips.
The room is completely silent, the only sound is our breathing lingering in the air. Grabbing my free hand, Callen places it on one side of my pants and grabs the other side with his, hooking his fingers inside the fabric of my pants and finding my white lace panties. Dropping to his knees in front of me, his hand starts pulling, grazing the bare skin on my thigh and leaving a burning trail behind. Invasive eyes follow the panties being dragged down, and then with a sigh, he looks straight up into my eyes makings my knees buckle.
“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so wet,” he pants.
All my self-control is gone as he gazes back at the panties around my ankles. Slowly running my hands down my stomach, I find the sweet spot that’s been aching to be touched and rub my finger over it. Callen’s head starts moving, inching closer to my pussy until I softly hold him back with both of our cuffed hands, stopping him directly in front of it. I rub my clit between two fingers but decide I need more, so I work my way down and slip one smooth finger inside. Rubbing my finger in my warmth, I pull it out and touch it to Callen’s bottom lip, brushing it slowly from one side to the other.
I’m affecting him.
I can see it in his eyes.
A smirk crosses my face as he pushes his tongue out and runs it across his bottom lip, lapping up the slickness I left behind.
“Holy fuck, darlin’,” he moans, his entire body tenses. “You taste so fucking good.”
My insides start to stir thinking about his face between my legs, but I won’t let him get to me. I can’t. Torturing him will be way more fun.
Placing one hand back on my pussy, I grab a fist full of Callen’s hair with the other, bringing his cuffed, strong, tattooed arm up with me. I slide one finger back in and massage the sensitive spot until I feel the need for more. I need to come. My face drops down to look at Callen, and I add another finger, thrusting in and out until it becomes too much. I feel heat radiating through my body as my orgasm builds in my core.
One cocky smile from that sexy mouth, and it’s all it takes to send me over the edge, exploding around my fingers, my muscles clamping down tight, and I scream with my release. Callen’s face has become hard and unreadable. Stripping my fingers out, I once again rub my two fingers over his lips, this time pushing his mouth open and inserting both fingers. He sucks hard, stripping my fingers entirely of my orgasm. He drops his forehead down against me grabbing my hips in his hands.
“You’re going to kill me. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” His voice strains.
Pulling him up from the floor, my face draws in, and I let out a small whisper in his ear, brushing my teeth along his jaw on the way up, “I’ll never beg!” I spit out.
His jaw drops, and it’s followed by a deep angry growl. Pulling on the handcuffs, I force Callen forward with a hard, painful jerk and head toward the bathroom dragging him with me. Striding over to the full bath, I feel overly confident, shaking my hips with just the right force. When I notice the water still running, I quickly turn the tap off, step in and carefully sit down forcing water to slip out over the sides. Resting my back against the tub, I lay my head back and breathe in the steam which surrounds me. After a few minutes of silence, I finally avert my eyes to my capturer. He’s watching me, his eyes satisfying me with the look of defeat, which are now a darker shade of green.
“So… Callen. What is it that you do to be able to pay for all this nice shit? You a drug dealer or something?” I ask even though I know exactly what he does.
The look in his eyes, I’ve seen it before. All too many times.
“Or something…” he explains.
“Okay, fine, don’t tell me. I thought if I’m going to be here a while, we may as well try to get to know each other,” I huff out.
“You don’t need to know me. You should be scared, but you’re not. Why don’t I terrify you?” He grabs my face between his hands asking me in a deadpan voice.
“Well, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t scare easy. If you want to make me fear you, you’ll need to try a lot fucking harder.” My voice comes out with a daring tone.
“Wash yourself.”
That’s it.
That’s all he has to say.
After I finish cleaning myself, I stand jerking the cuffs up with me and reach for the towel sitting on a shelf at the end of the tub.
“Here…” his deep voice rings and puts his hand out for the towel. Hesitantly, I pass it over to him, and he helps me out of the bath wrapping the towel around me. I’m dragged back into the bedroom, and Callen fetches some clothes from his drawers and throws them to the bed. He doesn’t say another word while he dries my body and dresses me in a huge black shirt that’s so long it covers my ass. The handcuffs jiggle, and one side drops from Callen’s and sways in front of me then I put my arm through the sleeve.
“So, you’re letting me go,” I let out in a harsh tone.
Pushing me back on the bed, the anger in his eyes burns holes in me as he watches the shirt I’m wearing ride up over my exposed pussy.
“You’re not fucking going anywhere, Dahlia. You want to fear me? You haven’t seen anything. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be so fucking broken there’ll be no putting you back together,” he berates, grinding he teeth.
“Darlin’…” I drawl following his accent. “You’ll be the one who’s broken. I can promise you that.”
Both of my arms are thrown above my head hitting the mattress hard as Callen rapidly jumps down on me, shifting his legs to either side of mine. The open handcuffs are wrapped around the bed rail and connected around my free wrist, pinning both arms behind me making my shoulder burn.
I’m being straddled by a killer—who has me chained to his bed—his cock standing tall, rigid, and demanding, and I love every fucking minute of it. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me?
My body starts writhing as I try to find pleasure from his hardness when suddenly, big calloused hands are being forcefully wrapped around my throat, squeezing tight, but not enough to cut off my breathing. Callen’s breath is warm on my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“Bring it on…” he whispers, harshly nipping on my ear before he jumps up and exits the room, leaving me hot and frustrated as hell.
CALLEN
Dahlia’s not even slightly frightened of me. She darn-well should be. I’m an asshole, a murderer, and I love the feeling of life when it leaves a body. When I had my hands around her throat, I wanted to keep squeezing, drain the life from her, but there was a look in her eyes that stopped me. She’s drawn to me like I am to her. I have no idea why. Her body is petite and precious, her skin untainted, and she has the face of a goddam goddess. She comes across as innocent. Although that shit she pulled in the bedroom was the devil’s work.
I return downstairs finding my bottle of scotch, and I sit back on the reclining sofa. I take my time swigging on the scotch, feeling kind of bad for chaining Dahlia to the bed. I didn’t even leave her with one free hand. Yes, I sure am an asshole. Lack of sleep and this crazy fucking night has me yawning, and ready for bed. There’s no way I’m lying with Dahlia and not fucking her, so I guess the sofa will do for tonight. Laying back and flipping out the recliner, I close my eyes and slowly drift into unconsciousness.
“Callen…” there’s a short pause.
“Callen…” Ba
tes yells my name from in the distance.
“Callen…” I hear it again.
Running through the bushes along the lake, I come to a standstill in front of an old rundown cottage with a wraparound balcony. Two rusty old rocking chairs to the left are not moving an inch in the whisper-quiet air.
“Callen...”
The sound is ringing out from inside the house, moving further away each time it’s uttered.
“Callen...”
Shifting on my feet, I run up the stairs to the broken balcony and head to the door.
“Bates, are you in there?” My heart is pounding, and I feel myself becoming aggressive.
“Bates, for fuck’s sake, where are you?”
No answer.
Stepping away from the door, my instincts tell me to run, but instead, I take my foot to the door and kick it off its hinges.
It drops to the floor with a bang, kicking up a cloud of dust around it. Every room I check comes up empty, apart from a few pieces of old furniture and broken picture frames with shattered glass lying around them, which are all covered in dirt and dust.
“Fuck, where are you, Bates?” I sigh as my head drops with the feeling of disappointment.
Back outside, the sweltering day is turning into a windy, cold afternoon causing the two chairs on the balcony to violently rock with a squeaky motion.
Giving up, I carefully take a seat in one of the chairs praying it doesn’t fall apart beneath me. Pulling the other chair around to face me, I place my feet on it, silencing the horrible screeching sound.
Strange sounds are coming from the lake in front of me, and I jump to my feet pulling my gun from the waistband of my jeans.