I pushed up on my knees, repositioning myself directly over his erection. Then I pulled him close and kissed the shit out of him. I dipped my tongue between his lips and fucked him with it. He massaged the magic spots at the back of my thighs, right under my ass, and I moaned into him. We moved together, turning each other on with our mouths and our hands. I switched off my brain, not wanting to feel any shame or embarrassment. I was fucking for survival, and I was going to make it count.
I dropped a hand between us and began stroking him, running my palm over his slick crown. He bucked into my touch, sweeping his hands up my back. I arched into his touch, my nipples hardening. When he was rock hard, I slid down his body and took him gently into my mouth. I acted unsure at first, licking slow and not sucking too hard or deep. I didn't want to arouse suspicion by being too enthusiastic. He bucked his hips, and I knew he wanted more. He tasted salty on my tongue and I closed my eyes, running my tongue down his length.
“Suck me, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse and strained.
I dipped my head, taking him deeper. I waited for him to grab my head and force himself down my throat, but he didn't. Instead his fingers ran through my hair, softly, brushing it away from my face so that he could watch me. As a reward, I released him from my mouth and focused on his balls, sucking the soft skin in between my lips. I stroked his iron-hard cock with my hand while I worked his balls with my tongue. He was making pained noises, and I kept at it, wanting him mad with lust.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his fingers fisting in my hair. “Look at me, baby.” I ignored him, sucking on the soft, sensitive skin as his grip tightened on me. I knew he was going over the edge. “Goddammit, look at me!” he said, his voice strained.
My lips felt bee-stung and swollen as I came up for air. I dragged my eyes up to his face, a flutter of something like excitement in my stomach. His eyes were flashing with that manic light again. His erection was flush against his stomach, practically throbbing with his arousal. He was ready. I knew he wanted me.
He would always want me.
He wound the leash around his hand, pulling it taut, and I knew it was time. I stood slowly, keeping a bit of distance from him, as much as the tight leash would allow. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving. He raised his free hand, stroking me from my knee to my inner thigh. I felt the goosebumps rise on my skin at his touch. I felt powerful in my ability to drive him mad with lust, even as he had me at his complete command.
“I want you fucking dripping for me,” he hissed, sliding his fingers into me. I rolled my hips against him as his thumb found my clit. I was still wet from the sex on the table, but it wasn't enough. He ran his tongue over his lips and I realized I wanted him to put his mouth on me.
“Lick me there,” I said, my voice stronger than I intended. His eyes darkened and I immediately cursed myself, afraid I had ruined the hold I had over him. It had to be his choice. It was all about him. His pleasure was paramount, if I was going to get what I wanted.
“Come here,” he demanded and pulled me to him, his fingers buried inside of me. I gasped and my nipples hardened painfully at the sensation. I fell into him and he caught me, wrapping his arms around my thighs and pressing his face into my stomach. I braced my hands on his shoulders as he leaned forward, burying his mouth in my pussy. I squeezed my eyes closed and bit down hard on my lip so I didn't scream. How had he learned how to do it, I wondered. How had he learned to lick and suck me and make me want to come? It was unfair how he'd bent my body to his will. He caught me off guard again, roughly lifting my knee onto his shoulder. I fell forward again, my hair brushing the skin of his back as he clamped his hands on my hips, steadying me as his tongue dipped inside and his lips sucked on me. I dropped my chin to my chest, my hair hanging in my face as I tried to hold on. I could feel my mouth gaping open as he attacked my clit with his evil tongue.
Fuck, it felt good.
It also felt disgusting, dirty, and illegal all at the same time. The urge to scream welled up in my throat, but I didn't.
“Elliot, it feels so good,” I bit out instead. Forcing my mind to go blank, I ground my hips into his face. His fingers dug into me, bruising skin, but I didn't care. He growled out something incoherent, his mouth vibrating against me. Then the world tilted on its axis as he yanked me back down onto his lap. He shoved a hand through my hair, getting it out of my face as he bucked his hips, impatiently. I hinged myself up, fisting his cock as I pressed it against my slick opening. We were both scrabbling, in a lust filled rush. His arms encircled me, pulling me close as I slammed myself down, impaling myself on him.
I threw my head back as he slid inside, my body protesting the intrusion at first, but then stretching to fit him, as always. I lifted up on my knees, controlling how fast and how deep he went. It felt so different when I was on top of him. Like I was actually in control. He buried his face in my neck, sucking and biting down lightly on the skin. I gritted my teeth as I rode him, sparks rippling under my skin every time my nipples brushed against his chest.
“Say my name again, baby,” he said, his lips moving against my skin. “God, fucking say it again.”
“Elliot,” I whispered, drawing out the syllables for miles.
“Yes,” he hissed, as I rocked my hips against his, my body melting like butter around him. “Tell me you love my big cock,” he said, his stubble raking across my sensitive collarbone. My whole body was sensitive and tingling. I swallowed thickly, remembering the feel of him in my mouth, the taste of him.
“I love your big cock,” I said, reminding myself that I didn't mean it, even as the words passed my lips. I shook away the conflicting feelings beneath my skin, wanting to be rid of them. I just wanted him to explode into a million pieces. I wanted him to pour all of his anger and craziness into me. I needed to be strong if I was going to get free. I needed to be strong and save myself, because no one else was going to do it for me.
I looked into his eyes as I fucked him, feeling something shift between us again. His eyes were glazed, his lips parted as I used my body against him. I wanted him to think I loved him. I wanted him to think I would never leave. I wanted him lulled into a false sense of security. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He dropped his hands to my ass, holding me down as he drove into me, again and again. His moans filled my ears and, with all of me, I wanted him to come. If he took me with him, then so be it. I moved with him, drawing his pleasure out of him like an exorcism. My own orgasm snuck up on me, blossoming slowly as he worked his lips and teeth against my throat. I threw my head back as I lost control, but I didn't let myself feel guilty. That night, I was willing to be collateral damage, if it meant I would have a chance for a better tomorrow.
Chapter Seven
He came hard into me, seconds after he rubbed my clit until I imploded again, grinding against him like my life depended on it. Shaking, a manic feeling shimmering under my skin, I collapsed into him, and he cradled me against his chest, laying me softly on my side on the couch.
I closed my eyes and forced my breathing to even out as he fell into a deep, sex-satiated slumber. My heart was going triple time, but I pressed my hand to my chest, willing it to slow. I didn't want him to feel it beating. I didn't want to give away how nervous and scared I really felt.
Hours passed, the TV bathing the living room in a flickering blue glow. He lay beside on the couch, his chest to my back, his arm flung over my hip and his leg tossed over mine. I was sweating and shaking, but I was ready to do whatever I had to do. His breathing had been steady for a long time. He was snoring softly, and I hoped he was as deep of a sleeper as I needed him to be. Too bad he wasn't a drunk, then he would have been dead to the world.
Biting down on my lip, I scooted closer to the edge of the couch. Then I froze, waiting for any reaction from him. Nothing. Again, I moved another inch closer to the edge. He let out a sigh, but didn't wake. I hooked a leg over the couch, putting my foot on the floor. My heart was in my throat, but he didn'
t stir. Finally, I slid out from under his heavy limbs and lowered myself soundlessly onto the soft carpet. The couch frame groaned slightly at the pressure and again I froze, the sound loud as hell in my super sensitive ears. I sat there for a full minute, so scared I couldn't move. Then I forced myself to scoot back on my ass toward his jeans.
The leash pulled taut against my neck, and I realized I was still tethered to him. He had the rope wrapped around his hand. My fingers found the knot at my throat. It was a complicated knot that he'd probably learned in the navy or the boy scouts or something. Shit. I felt panic rising in my chest. Telling myself to calm down, I began to work at the knot. My nails were ragged and broken, but there was still enough length on them for me to get a good hold. After a few moments that felt like hours, the smaller part of the knot came free. The bigger part was easier, and I almost couldn't believe it when the rope dropped into my lap.
Gnawing at my lip, I slid back on my ass until I reached his jeans. I kept my eyes on him as I wrapped the jeans into a ball, not wanting the jangling of the keys to wake him. I found his shirt a few feet away and grabbed that too, along with my boots. I scooted toward the kitchen, keeping my eyes on him. His naked body was pale in the light, stretched out as he slept. But sleep didn't make him any less dangerous.
He was a dragon and I knew he'd be deadly if roused.
When I reached the kitchen, I pulled myself to standing, slowly, soundlessly. I backed up toward the door, sliding his black shirt over my head. It smelled like him, but I ignored that. I turned toward the door and nearly jump a foot. I clenched my arms just in time, barely preventing my boots and his jeans crashing to the floor. Elliot's cat was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, silver eyes staring up at me. I let out of a puff of air, wishing I could strangle the little jerk. The cat had almost ruined everything.
Muffling the sound of the keys in the balled up jeans, I extracted them from his pocket. Luckily for me, he wasn't one of those types that carried around a million keys, half of which didn't even unlock anything. He had two fobs for his truck, and three keys that looked like house keys. I tried the first, sliding it into the deadbolt, my fingers shaking so bad I was positive he would be able to hear me. The lock didn't turn. Steeling myself against the disappointment, I tried again with the next key.
The lock clicking open was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard. I swallowed my sigh of relief and moved on to the lock on the cheap knob. It was a simple turning lock, and within minutes, I cracked the wood door open and slipped into the dark garage. I pulled it up lightly behind me, not wanting to risk making noise by shutting it completely. Butterflies attacked my insides as I slipped my boots on, one by one.
I only had one chance. I knew I'd probably only get about two minutes head start. I lifted a shaking hand and let it hover over the garage door opener. Once I pressed that it, I knew he'd hear the rumbling and screeching of the mechanism. He would wake up and I'd have to run like I'd never run before. There was no other option.
I took a deep breath. I was as ready as I'd ever be.
I slammed my finger down on the button.
*****
The air was cool as I took off down the dark road. My boots pounded the pavement as I ran down the center of the street, my hair streaming behind me. Houses dotted his street, and a few porch lights were on, but I didn't stop. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, get as far away from him as I could. I knew I didn't have much time.
At the end of the street, I slowed, deciding which way to go. There were no cars on the road and I made a left, running back the way I assumed we'd come. I wasn't totally sure where I was, although I was pretty sure I was on the outskirts of Austin. He hadn't taken me that far. I ran along the sidewalk, dipping in and out of the glare of the streetlights. I prayed for a car to drive by, but none came. I ran a few more blocks and then slowed to a walk to catch my breath, glancing behind me as I did. There was no one there.
I wondered if the garage door opening had woke him up or not. It sounded so loud to my ears that I thought the whole damn neighborhood must have heard it. I shook off the fear and told myself that I had to keep going. I couldn't worry about him. As far as I knew, he was still asleep on the couch. I pulled my hair off of my sweaty neck and tied it into a knot on top of my head. I didn't know what I was going to do, exactly. I didn't know where I was or how long it would take me to get home.
All I knew was that I was free.
It was at that moment that I remembered my purse was at The Blue Mermaid. I didn't have my cell phone or my keys or my wallet. I didn't know how I was going to get into my apartment once I got home. I didn't have time to cry, even though I wanted to. I just had to keep moving.
I was about a mile away when I felt him behind me. I don't know how to explain it other than a I could feel a shiver run up my spine. My stomach dropped and I forced myself to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, when I glanced back, I saw him. He was barefoot, in jeans, running down the center of the street. Fear froze time, and I had a strange vision of him as a high school football star, running for the touchdown and basking in the adoration of the crowd. It was Texas; every boy played football at one time or another. He had the body for it, that was for sure.
Strange, the thoughts that run through your mind when you're paralyzed with fear.
I took off, a scream escaping my lips and echoing across the quiet, dark landscape. I ran into the cornfield on my left, the dry stalks smacking me in the face. I felt the tears on my cheeks, but I didn't bother swiping them away. I tripped twice; both times I got back up and kept going, despite the bruises on my knees and the scrapes on my palms. I didn't know which way I went, I just kept going, swerving right and then left and then right again. When my throat was raw and I could hardly breath, I slowed to a stop and tried to listen. I knew he was coming for me, but I had hope. I hoped he wouldn't be able to find me in the tall stalks.
It was my one chance to get away. I was completely convinced that if he found me, I'd never get free again. I tried to be quiet and hold my breath, but it forced its way out of my lungs in jagged sobs. I was hyperventilating and I couldn't calm down.
Not when Elliot was coming for me.
A snapping sound had my senses on high-alert. Another snap, and I shot my eyes around me, looking for him. I spun around to run and catapulted myself straight into his arms. I screamed as he pulled me close to him, his bare chest slick with sweat. I fought against him, swinging my arms and kicking on our way down, but when my back hit the ground, the wind was knocked out of me. He was heavy on top of me and I could scarcely breathe.
“I got you, baby,” he said, his voice rough in my ear. “I fucking got you,” he repeated like he couldn't believe it. I could hear the anger at the back of his throat and sure enough, his fingers clamped around my neck and squeezed. I felt my eyes bulge out of my head, my hands scratching at his naked arms and drawing blood. “You think you can leave me?” he gritted out, the muscles in his chest straining as he strangled the life out of me. “You don't get to leave.”
I whimpered, the fear of dying so palpable I could taste it on my tongue. I knew he was going to kill me, I just didn't realize how soon he would do it. I kept struggling because my body wouldn't stop, but I didn't really feel flesh hitting flesh. I felt like I was floating above my body, watching Elliot kill me. Our skin glowed white under the moonlight and the cornstalks walled us in, leaving no room for escape. It felt claustrophobic and terrifying.
“You're mine,” Elliot rasped, sounding unhinged. He was finally losing it, I realized. “You're fucking mine and I'm never letting you go. Never.” He squeezed hard to emphasize his point and my vision blacked out. The ringing in my ears went silent and I couldn't hear or see for what felt like hours. I was dying and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
Then he released my neck and I was back in my body in a flash, painfully retching up the little bit of food I'd had that night. He hovered over me, his hands roaming all over my body, as i
f checking if I was in one piece. I had no control over myself for a long while, I'm not sure how long. I could only curl into a ball and try to breathe.
He took my chin in his hand, roughly angling my face and forcing me to look at him. The tears clouded my vision and made it hard to see his face, but he softly wiped them away, like he hadn't just tried to kill me.
“You were planning this, weren't you?” he asked, his voice low. “It was all a lie, wasn't it?” I couldn't speak, so I didn't answer him. My silence angered him and he tossed me roughly over onto my back. I moaned in pain, arching into him. He angled himself between my legs, thrusting his hips into mine, reminding me that he was in charge. “Answer me!” he growled, lowering his face so low that his nose brushed mine.
“No,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and broken.
“That's fucking right,” he responded. “I know you liked it. I felt it.” He ran his lips across my cheek and I shuddered, anger and hatred boiling under my skin. “Your body doesn't lie to me, even when you do,” he said. “Does it?”
“No,” I forced the word out, my teeth clenched. I wanted to say whatever he wanted to hear. I wanted him to be happy with me, happy enough to let me live. I didn't know that a quick death might have been preferable to what the future held.
I didn't know a lot of things. I was swiftly learning, though.
With a low sadistic laugh, he hauled up my limp body and tossed me over his shoulder, like I weighed nothing. I didn't fight—my body was weak and my spirit was broken. My one chance, and I'd blown it. I was beaten and we both knew it. He'd broken me, just like he knew he would. He carried me down the dark street and all was quiet.
I must have passed out, because when I woke, I was in the garage and the air was heavy and hot. My hands were bound above my head and my wrists ached. I still had my boots on and his shirt, I realized as I slowly got my senses back about me. My skin was stretched across my stomach and I could feel my shoulders were tight with tension. He'd strung me up like a piñata, my wrists tied with a stretch of rope that was thrown over a beam in the ceiling. He'd hung me so high my toes barely brushed the concrete. I had to stand on my tiptoes, my calf muscles screaming out in protest.
I Know What Love Is Page 6