by Riley Ashby
Why did Gunner have that photo? I needed to know. So I’d gone down to dinner and gotten just drunk enough to calm my nerves, climbed on top of my captor, kissed him, and sucked him off. Maybe, I thought, if I cracked his shell, he would open up and give me a little more. Tell me the truth.
Instead, I found myself trembling beneath his hands as they passed over me again and again, massaging my scalp, my neck, down my back to my buttocks and legs. With his hands on my hips, he turned me to face him, and he kissed my lower belly just above my sex and licked at the water falling from my belly button.
“You’re shaking.”
“Keep kissing me.” Keep kissing me so I don’t think about what I’ve done, what I’m doing, what this will mean for me when the truth comes out, and I find out how much you’ve been lying to me. When you finally admit it was my mother who orchestrated this entire thing to pay off her debts sooner rather than later. When you confess that you played me as expertly as you command your dogs, and I lose everything. Again.
“Come out of your head.”
I opened my eyes, and he was standing again, inches from my face. I flashed back, just for a moment, to the day he tried to trap me in my room, but I wasn’t afraid anymore. This wasn’t the same man. This time, when he took a step toward me, I didn’t step back. He ran his fingers over my ribs, dipping into the valleys between each bone, thumb brushing against the side of my breast.
“When you’re with me, be with me.” He pressed his nails into my skin. “Don’t let your mind wander. Focus on how I make you feel.”
“I can’t think of anything but you.”
“Good.” He kissed me, almost tenderly.
I gasped for air when he finally let me go. “Why is it so important to you that we eat together?” I asked, hearing my voice shake the tiniest bit.
His smile was almost sad. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I swallowed and took a step back, and he followed me like it was a matter of gravity. Whatever aura or atmosphere existed around me was pulling us together. Escaping him would be as impossible as the Earth escaping the sun. “Not to me.”
He pushed me back gently against the wall, one hand above my head and the other on my waist. I burned where he touched me, a solar flare scorching my skin that the water running between us could do nothing to douse. “I want to see everything you do. I want to know every movement your body makes.” He leaned down and kissed my neck softly on the pulse. I let my eyes close and leaned into him. “I want to watch your lips and tongue move as you speak what’s on your mind or read out loud.” The other side of my neck now, closer to the base. “I want to see you gasp or bite your thumb when you read something that surprises you even though you already know what’s going to happen.” His hand left my hip now and stole my hand to his mouth, biting my thumb with such tenderness I thought I might break. “Then I want to pretend that it’s my lip you’re biting or that I’m the one making you gasp when I do this.”
And then I did gasp when his knee moved suddenly between my legs, pushing up against my wet heat, and the contact nearly made me combust.
“Like that,” he said, and he kissed me on the mouth.
I didn’t just melt. I collapsed in on myself. Everything I felt about him, from the inappropriate attraction to the anger at my situation, poured out of me into him. He didn’t push me; I opened my lips on my own, and his tongue dived in hungrily. His hands grew firm, one wrapping around my waist to my back and the other pulling my head toward him from my nape. He moved his knee gently between my legs, and I moaned at the glorious sensation that was building. His arousal pressed into my leg, hardening against me. I moved my hips to meet his as he rolled closer and closer.
My hands slid down his chest, noting the ripple of his muscles, luxuriating on his bare skin. He was burning up, and I craved some of that heat for myself. I might as well have been dying of cold before that moment. The water was gone, the heat of the steam no more. All that existed were him and his body.
As my fingernails dug into his skin, he slid his hands down my back. He gripped my ass possessively but with all the tenderness of a lover, somehow combined into one motion.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “I know what I said earlier. But please don’t stop now.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Moving one hand up to grab my breast, he plunged the other down below and gently stroked my lips with his fingers. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, moving to kiss my neck again. “I’ve touched myself a hundred times to your image.”
He was moving so fast, but I was powerless to stop him, even if I wanted to. I was in utter free fall with no parachute, and I had to hope he would catch me at the bottom.
When he finally brushed one finger across my clit, I jerked back in surprise, but he caught me and pulled my lips back to his.
“Yes. Give me your pleasure,” he whispered, never breaking contact.
I nodded. “Anything.”
“I have to feel you inside.” He curled his finger gently inside me, stroking and circling until he found the motion that made me lose all control. I moaned and was rewarded with a smile from him before his tongue stole into my mouth again. He was slowly increasing the pressure from his fingers, and the pleasure was building in the pit of my stomach. He growled as he slipped a hand across my breasts, then rolled one of my nipples between his fingers. He pinched firmly, and it pushed me over the edge.
This time when I threw back my head, he didn’t pull me back. “That’s it, baby. Ride it out.” He nuzzled his face into my neck, biting me gently while never stopping the motion of his hands, one kneading my breast and the other furiously working my pussy. “Keep coming for me. You’re holding my fingers so tight inside you. It feels so good, Quinn.” I was helpless in his hands, as helpless as I’d been before when he filled my mouth with his pleasure, and all I could do was hope that he never stopped, not ever.
After an eternity and far too soon, it was over. I was empty inside once more as one arm wrapped around my waist, and the other resumed holding my hair. I panted into his shoulder, reeling. Gunner was saying something, but I couldn’t make it out. I felt like there was cotton in my ears; everything was muffled. The utter shift in emotions in the past twenty-four hours, from fear and anger to happiness to arousal, was too much. It didn’t make sense.
Gunner was holding me back from him now, bending over to look me in the eyes. His lips moved, but I registered nothing. Even without what had happened to my hearing, I was breathing too heavily to hear him.
“I don’t know what’s going on.”
His lips moved as he clasped my face and forced me to focus on him. His lips moved soundlessly, but as I focused on him, it started to become more clear.
“…cus on me. Right here. Don’t lose yourself again.”
“I’m here.” I gasped as though I’d just come up from the bottom of a deep pool. “I’m here.” I grabbed his face and kissed him, but he held me back so gently.
“There you go. Keep breathing.”
“Did I stop?” I took another deep breath and ran my fingers over his face, the rough sandpaper stubble grounding me in the real world. “It was an accident.”
“I know. Hold on; let’s get you in bed.”
He turned off the water before I could protest, but for once, I didn’t want to. I let him care for me. There was too much going on in my mind, too many conflicting emotions. I shouldn’t care for him, but I did. I should be afraid of him, but I wasn’t. Was this some desperate attempt to appease him and keep him from hurting me, or was there really something between us? Would he disappear when all this was over, or did he think we would somehow work this out, have a relationship? What kind of relationship could possibly exist between captor and captive once the captivity was over?
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“Shhh.” The cold air hit my skin, followed by the softest towel. When had we exited the shower? He dried me from head to toe and wrapped me in it, then guided me
to his bed, where he made me sit. He knelt behind me and dried my hair with another towel, combing through the knots with his fingers until it fell silky and long down my back. “Sit back now. Wait a minute.” I nearly fell asleep as I leaned against the headboard, only to be stirred by a hand on my shoulder. Gunner handed me a glass of water and watched as I drank the whole thing without stopping to breathe. He placed the empty glass on the bedside table and sat next to me. “Do you feel okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. I looked around and remembered I was still naked except for the towel. I couldn’t help but laugh. “I need clothes.”
“Just get under the covers. You’ll be okay.” He pulled away the damp towel, and I couldn’t even be embarrassed. I slid between soft sheets and laid my head on the pillow, guided by his hand. “Are you warm enough? Maybe we need to dry your hair more.”
“Come here.” I used the last of my energy to sit up and kiss him, barely a brushing of lips. “I think I want to sleep now. Is that okay?”
“Of course.”
“Stay with me. Don’t let me wake up alone.”
I was still shivering, but he tucked the blankets around my body and draped his chest over my back, sharing his body heat until I finally stilled. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Do you hate me?”
“I wish I did,” I said before I fell asleep.
For the first time since I’d been taken, drugged, and kidnapped, I awoke without fear. I rose from my dreams easily, like stepping out of a shallow pond, toes sinking into soft mud before crossing onto the sand and then grass. I opened my eyes to find myself face-to-face with the sun.
I held still. I didn’t want him to wake up, not yet. His distress was obvious; a crease between his eyebrows made him look ten years older. He moved his lips as he slept, whispering secrets I’d never be privy to. I thought I heard my name, but I couldn’t be sure.
When I woke up in his basement a few mornings ago, he had been light-years away. I’d made the snap decision to trust him, and he threw it back in my face before I had a chance to reconsider. But since he’d stolen the last of my innocence, I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t resent him. It tasted like relief. Like finally, we had breached that distance between us—not just a few feet or even miles, but the vast expanse of endless space—and given in to our desire. We’d crossed the distance to each other in a matter of days.
Now, with only inches separating us, he was still too far.
I ran my fingers across his brow, smoothing the worried lines there. The sun was peeking through the curtains on the wall, but I couldn’t rise yet. Not while we existed at this moment together, where he couldn’t pretend to care more about his job than about me.
His job. I almost laughed. As if he could call it that. What was he doing with the Disciples? He wasn’t one of them. His attempts to be the impassive, hard-as-nails captor had crumbled almost as quickly as my resolve. Was he rough around the edges? Absolutely. But he wasn’t evil. Not like the others.
My realization that my mother must have been the one to plan this kidnapping had been the other part to bring me unexpected peace. My parents must have some sort of account, an insurance plan maybe, to pay a ransom if I was kidnapped. The Disciples were probably asking for more money, trying to negotiate a higher price—hence my extended stay in Gunner’s home. And since my mom knew both Gunner and Vin, she’d insisted as part of the plan that I be kept with Gunner alone instead of wherever Vin usually kept his victims.
How had she kept this hidden for so long? Surely, my father or our accountants would have noticed the draining funds, cash advances, whatever she needed to support her bets. And if she knew Gunner this well, she had to be spending a lot of time outside the home. Was Dad really so wrapped up in his work that he didn’t notice the long hours she couldn’t account for?
Guilt and grief stabbed me in equal measure. How had I not noticed this? I’d been so busy with work and school, distracting myself from my lack of satisfaction in my own life and the constant blame I placed on myself. I’d disappeared, same as my sister, and my mom slipped away in the process.
Whatever the reason for the situation I now found myself in, I didn’t think anyone had accounted for this scenario. Naked in my captor’s bed, the memory of his taste lingering in my mouth, and a tingling between my legs I couldn’t shake. No matter how angry I found myself—with him, with the unfairness of my captivity—I was still drawn to him as if pulled from my mindless orbit by his gravity.
My fingers continued along his face, tracing the curve of his collarbone, down to his jaw and across his chin to finally end on his lips. He sighed and grabbed my hand, kissed my fingertips, and twisted our fingers together, all without waking up.
I didn’t understand what was going on between us, but it was real. It was worth something. I knew that now. And goddamn if I wasn’t going to fight like hell to keep it.
I didn’t realize I had fallen back asleep until a shifting woke me up, jostled me as cold air invaded my space once again. I had to reach out and grab him as he slipped away and cold invaded the space where he’d once been.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you water. Your lips are dry.”
“I don’t want water.” I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back against me, snuggling my head into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. “I want you.”
“You’re dehydrated. It’s not good for you.” His voice was disapproving, but he put one arm around me nonetheless.
I laughed. “I’m fully aware of that.” His hands brushed my naked skin, reminding me that I’d never dressed the night before. That vulnerability would have scared me before, but now it seemed exciting. I didn’t fear him; I wanted him closer. Memories from last night rushed through me and stirred desire deep in my belly. I craned my neck to look at him, but he kept his chin on the top of my head.
“Are you sure you feel okay? After last night?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry I got all dramatic.” God, how embarrassing. I was never going to forget this.
“Stop apologizing. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
I bit my lip. “I would have slept with you. That night I almost passed out. I was about to say yes.”
He sat up a little and stared down at me. “Are you serious? I could have been getting that pussy all this time?”
I buried my face in my hands as he laughed and pulled me closer. “You’re so nasty.”
“It means I have a few days to make up for.”
We lay quietly for a while as he absentmindedly stroked my shoulder with his thumb. I placed my cheek right over his heartbeat, inhaling the woodsy scent of his shirt. I wanted to wrap myself up in there with him.
“I know I should apologize,” he said, breaking the silence. “This is not a normal situation, and I pushed you too far.”
“But you’re not going to,” I said, tracing circles on his chest. The muscles of his stomach clenched as I moved my hand lower. “Because you’re not sorry.”
He finally lowered his head to look at me. I’ve never held eye contact with someone for so long, but I didn’t want to look away. I watched him watch me, his eyes greener than I’d ever seen them before, an ever-changing kaleidoscope and the growing light of dawn. All the while, his hands kept moving, touching my shoulders, my fingers, my lips, my nose, every part of me not covered by blankets, as though he was leaving his fingerprints all over me for the next person to find. To show anyone I might meet in the future that he was here first.
“I haven’t stopped wanting to fuck you since I first learned your name.”
I twisted my neck side to side, stretching the muscles gone stiff from my long sleep. “You know so much about me, and I barely know anything about you.”
He frowned and pulled back a little. Every part of me where he’d touched suddenly went cold.
“You don’t need to know anything.”
“I want to.”
He rubbed his face. “This conversation is ove
r. Get ready for breakfast.”
I grabbed his arm as if I could keep him from getting out of bed, but he stood and walked to his dresser and made a show of looking through the top drawer. I waited, longer than I should have, to see if he would relent. But of course, he didn’t.
Maybe he was still looking out for me by doing this. We both knew how this was going to end. Maybe it would hurt less if he pulled away now.
“You’re right.”
“About?” He still didn’t turn around.
“No matter what happens, no matter what you tell me or you don’t, this will be over in a few days. We’ll never see each other again. I guess I could thank you for making it easier on me when you disappear.”
I wrapped my arms around my naked chest as I ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The mirror was cracked, lines of a spiderweb stretching across the glass. I’d ignored it last night, too focused on the wine in my hair and the taste of his release on my tongue. I placed my fingers on one of the lines and thought of the cuts on his hand. The door opened, and I looked up to see him in the mirror, his reflection tripled by the broken glass.
“Did you …?”
I lost my breath as he turned me by my shoulders and made me face him, one hand holding my back and the other in my hair. I gasped and grabbed his hand at the back of my head.
He held himself back far enough to look me in the eyes, but no more.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to control my hammering heart. It was difficult to speak. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not disappearing.” He moved his hands down my body, naked flesh rasping against his fingers. All the heat in the world gathered between my legs, and I felt empty, hollow, craving some part of him to fill me again. “You belong to me. Have since the moment you touched my shoulder on the sidewalk. Do you get it?” He kissed me, fast and hard, but pulled back just as quickly. “You were right. You’re not going home.” He softened his grip and slipped his hands around my neck, squeezing lightly, landing featherlight kisses on my eyelids. “You belong to me.”