by Roxie Noir
“You liked it that much?” he asks, and he doesn’t wait for an answer, just kisses me hard and pushes me backward. “You like my cock so much you had to touch yourself?”
I can taste myself on him and it’s oddly arousing, but then he pulls back, grabs my hand, and licks my fingers. Now he’s kneeling in between my legs, the tip of his massive erection resting on my lower belly, my legs around him.
I reach down and grab his erection and just taking it in my hand makes me almost dizzy with lust.
“Fuck I want you,” he growls. He leans over me, his face next to mine, and I’m practically folded in half, pinned to the bed.
“I can tell,” I whisper, and he smirks.
A hand slides down my thigh and then he’s running his fingers along my lips, brushing against my clit and I gasp, my other hand tight on his bicep.
“I know you want me, tiger,” he whispers. “You’re so wet you’re soaking through the sheets.”
He slides one finger into my pussy and I nearly scream, his cock throbbing in my hand.
“Tell me,” he says.
He slides another finger in and then crooks them slowly against that spot and my eyes squeeze shut as I moan.
“You have to tell me how much you want my cock in you,” he whispers, and he slides in a third finger, moves them again and I’m grabbing his arm so hard there’s probably going to be a bruise there tomorrow.
“I want you,” I gasp.
“You can do better than that,” he says.
His face is an inch in front of mine, and I lick my lips.
“This is how you like it, right? Missionary with the lights out,” he says, his rough voice vibrating through me.
I blink, and then almost laugh. This is a million times hotter than any other missionary-with-the-lights-off sex I’ve had before.
He moves his fingers again and instead of laughing I gasp and whisper, “Oh, fuck.”
I take a deep breath.
“Fuck me,” I say. “I want to feel your cock inside me.”
He groans, fingers in me, and pushes his cock against my hand.
“Say it again,” he says.
“Fuck me now,” I growl. “I need your cock in me.”
“I don’t have a condom,” he whispers. “I have to fuck you bare.”
I’ve never fucked anyone bare, not even my ex. I’m cautious by nature, but the only thing that matters right now is getting Alex inside me.
Besides, I find the thought reckless and oddly arousing.
“I don’t care,” I whisper. “Just fuck me.”
“You like it,” he says, then he bites my ear. “You like that we’re going skin to skin.”
For a moment, his face goes serious.
“I always wrap it up,” he murmurs in my ear.
Well, not always, I think, but then he slides his fingers out of my pussy and then pulls me forward, resting the head of his cock at my entrance. I wrap my legs around him and squeeze. He bites my shoulder and I feel the head of his cock slide inside me.
I gasp and then hold my breath. I’m afraid it’ll hurt but instead he sinks inside me like we were made to fit. I exhale, moaning.
“You feel fucking perfect, tiger,” he says, his voice a growl against my neck. “I’ve been thinking about this for days.”
I mean to say me too.
It comes out different, a breathy gasp: “Shut up and fuck me.”
He pauses for a second, buried deep inside me, and his eyes light up and he grins, his face almost feral.
“I could have sworn I was,” he says.
He pulls his cock out of me, making all the muscles in my body jerk, and then thrusts back in, slow but hard and a small noise escapes my lips as my entire body goes white-hot.
Then he does it again and again and god, I wanted him to fuck me hard and fast but this is what I need, this perfect slow mind-blowing torture.
With his next thrust my head bumps against the bars of the headboard, and I reach up and grab one. Before I know it his hand is wrapped around mine, holding it there, and he growls as he thrusts again, his cock finding that deep, perfect place inside me that makes me moan and sends fire through my veins.
I’m right on the edge, barely hanging on, but instead of fucking me again he leans down and kisses me, his hand still over mine, and it’s oddly slow and sensual even as I can feel him throb with desire inside me. I know the tiniest movement would set me off and send me spinning into the stratosphere, but he’s perfectly still except for his lips and his tongue, exploring my own.
It’s the most intimate moment I’ve ever had.
Then he pulls his mouth away and we’re both breathing hard, his face serious in the dark.
“You like this, tiger?” he asks. “You like how I feel inside you?”
“Yes,” I manage to gasp.
“Good,” he murmurs. “But I’m done fucking you like a prude.”
He pulls out, and I have half a second to wonder what the fuck about that was prudish before he’s rolling me over.
“Get on your knees,” he says and I do, my back to him. Then his hands are on my waist and his mouth is on my shoulder, the skin a little tender where he bit it before.
“Grab the bars,” he says, and I wrap my fingers around the shiny metal, bracing myself as his hands are everywhere on me.
Then his cock is at my entrance and this time I don’t have to ask, he just pushes himself in all the way to the hilt.
“Oh!” I shout, my hands tightening on the bars of the headboard.
“I told you you’d shout,” he says into my ear.
His arms are so tight around my waist that I can barely move, my back arched in pleasure.
“Do it again,” I say, turning my head toward him and he kisses me savagely again, and then he does, just as hard and slow as before but deeper this time, like he’s found some secret place in my body that belongs to him.
He fucks me again, and then again, and with every stroke I can feel him bring me millimeters closer to the edge. I can barely breathe, I need to come so bad.
“Faster,” I finally say, my voice a rough whisper. “God, just make me come.”
“I will,” he says, his lips against the back of my neck. “When I do, they’re going to hear you back in Los Angeles.”
I believe him. I feel like I’m having sex for the very first time, like I’m finally figuring out why people get so excited about sex.
“I could fuck you forever,” he says into my ear. “That’s how good it feels to be inside you.”
His hands slide along my arms until he locks his hands over mine, his tattooed muscles flexing in the moonlight. He squeezes my hands and his fingers slide between mine, his chest against my back, his cock totally buried inside me.
I’m there, right on the edge again.
“Say my name,” he tells me.
I take in a deep, long, ragged breath and flex my pussy muscles. Anything to make him fuck me just one more time.
Except doing what he wants.
“Why?” I ask, my whole body trembling.
He pushes against me so slightly it might be my imagination but I groan so loud that the sound fills the whole room.
“Because you thought you wouldn’t,” he says. “Because I wanted to hear you shout my name the moment I saw you.”
He moves again and I’m so close that I almost feel like I’m on fire.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I gasp. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
“My name,” he whispers.
“Just fuck me.”
“Say my name,” he says, and there’s a slight pause. “Please?”
“Fuck me, Alex,” I whisper, almost sobbing it feels so good and he finally does, crushing my hands against the bars and thrusting and then I just see stars as I’m plummeting over the edge.
His name’s already on my lips so that’s what I shout, over and over again as I come so hard I’m almost afraid I’m going to black out, just “Fuck, Alex, fuck!”
over and over again.
They probably can hear me in Los Angeles, but it’s worth it. When I can think again I realize that Alex is coming, one arm wrapped tight around my waist as he groans.
Before he pulls out he puts his hand on my face and turns my head toward him and kisses me hard and deep again, his cock softening inside me as we’re both panting for breath. Then we both collapse on the bed, and for the first time in days my mind goes blissfully blank.
I don’t think, what’s going to happen or why is this asshole so hot or what’s my dad doing.
I just think, I needed that.
Next to me, Alex takes a deep breath and then exhales hard.
“Holy shit, tiger,” he says.
I turn my head toward him.
“You say that to all the kidnapped girls you fuck,” I say, but I’m teasing.
He knows, because he’s grinning when he looks at me.
“Nah, you’re the first one who’s gotten that turned on by captivity,” he says.
“Douche,” I say.
“You’d hate it if I weren’t,” he says.
I roll my eyes in the dark but I think he might be right. I fall asleep before I can think of a good response.
19
Alex
I don’t even dream, I sleep so hard, and the next thing I know it’s morning, light slicing through the ugly mini blinds. I’m on my back and Tessa is next to me, on her side, facing away with her back against my side, my arm under her neck.
I stay there for a few moments, and then get up, grab the keys from under the mattress, piss, put my clothes back on and check the cell phone.
I have one missed call.
It’s from a number I don’t recognize, but it’s gotta be Manny’s burner.
An odd mix of relief and sadness wash over me. Tessa’s going to be all right. She’ll get to go back home to her real life, but there’s no way I’ll see her again after that.
Our worlds just don’t mix. They never will. This isn’t some “Boy from the wrong side of the tracks” romance, it’s straight up impossible.
While she was in college, I was beating up other dealers for being our turf. While she was working her first job in an architecture firm, I was facing off with the Hell’s Angels, trading dope for guns.
We shouldn’t have fucked, but that’s water under the bridge. At least now, we can go our separate ways without too much damage.
I hit the button to call Manny back, but instead the phone beeps at me. No signal. I frown and try every corner of the living room, but there’s nothing. It says I have one bar of service, but I can’t get a call through.
“Shit,” I mutter, and head outside. I walk a complete lap around our yard, but I can’t get a call out to save my life.
When I come back in Tessa’s there, wrapped in the sheet that was on the bed, looking tousled and tired and so hot I get rock hard in half a second.
“What’s going on?” she asks, looking at the phone in my hand.
“Gotta make a call,” I say.
“Did my dad cooperate?” she asks.
“I’ll find out when I make this call,” I snap, because the last thing I need right now is for my dick to think about how much fun we had, because we’re never doing that again.
I snap the phone shut.
“Make coffee,” I say. “I’ll be back in thirty. There’s no signal here.”
I can feel her staring at me as I walk out of the house. I should take her with me, but her feet are fucked up and we’re in the middle of nowhere. What’s she gonna do?
I drive with one hand on the wheel and the other holding my cell phone in the air until, suddenly, I come over a rise and get four glorious bars of signal. I hop out and hit the call button again, and after one ring, I hear Manny’s voice.
“There you are,” he says.
“No signal at the safe house,” I explain. “I had to find some.”
“That’s the problem with that location,” he says.
“Did you finally talk some sense into Ned?” I ask. “That took a while.”
Manny sighs dramatically into the phone, and my stomach clenches. I can practically see him, sitting in his modern, sleek office in the back of the nightclub he owns, shaking his head.
“Ned talked,” he says.
It doesn’t compute.
“To you?” I ask.
“No, Alejandro,” he says, almost sounding sad.
I find a spot on the horizon and focus on it. It feels like an oven out here, and I can see the heat rising from the desert.
“Ned told the feds everything on Saturday afternoon. Before we even got Tessa.”
For a second, I can’t understand what he’s just said, like he’s speaking Greek or something.
Then I get it.
This was all for nothing.
“Shit,” I say, and I feel something cold slide into my stomach.
“This is gonna be a big, big mess,” he says. He sounds exhausted, and the worst is yet to come.
“Should I come back?” I ask, not asking what I really want to know: what do I do with Tessa?
I turn around and look at the other horizon, this one sliced up by the sharp mountains. A cold realization washes over me as I wait for Manny to answer me.
I can’t kill her.
I won’t.
I’d rather disobey Manny and risk a pinky finger — or, for this, maybe even my life — than kill this girl.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
“Alejandro, listen,” he says. “I know how you feel about this kind of thing with women, and I know you’ve gone above and beyond already.”
I swallow, listening, waiting for him to say but just do one more thing.
“I sent Jose and Mike up there this morning,” he says. “They’ll do the dirty work. You can just come back here.”
For a split second, I’m flattered.
It’s a sign of professional respect that Manny sent someone else to do this, a sign that Manny values my opinion and wants to keep me around the organization.
Then a cold steel fist clenches around my stomach, and I grind my teeth together.
Talk him out of it, I think.
“Manny, you know I don’t like to question your decisions, but is that a good idea?” I ask. I try to sound neutral. “This could really bring the heat down on us.”
“I’ve thought about that,” he says levelly. “You’re not wrong, Alejandro, but frankly I’m more concerned by the alternative. If we let Ned get away with this, we’re essentially declaring that anyone can walk all over us with no consequences.”
“We might be scaring off allies by doing something this harsh,” I say. “No one’s going to want to work with us if the feds are up our asses.”
My heart is hammering, and it’s a last-ditch effort.
“It’s a difficult dance,” Manny says into the phone, suddenly getting poetic. “I can only pray I’m making the right choice.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Just let Jose and Mike deal with her,” Manny says. “Head back to town. There’s plenty to do here.”
“Got it,” I say, and then Manny ends the call.
I stare at the phone for a long second, and then I roar.
“FUUUCK!” I shout, the sound getting lost in the desert. “FUCK, FUCK FUCK!”
I grab the phone and twist, and the cheap plastic splinters apart at the hinge.
“FUCK!” I shout, and drop kick one half of it off into the dirt. I don’t see where it lands because I dropped the other one and I’m stomping it into smithereens, just shouting like some kind of animal.
When I finish I’m already dripping with sweat, but I get back into the SUV and gun it for the house, doing forty miles an hour off road, just praying that I don’t pop a tire.
If I were smart I’d just forget her and go back to my life in Los Angeles. It’s not like she’d be the first person I killed, or the first person I let die.
But I’m not smart
. I’m barreling toward the safe house, praying I get there before Jose and Mike.
I’ve got no plan, no idea how I’ll handle those two morons when they get here.
I’m just going.
20
Tessa
Alex heads out the door and I wonder what his fucking problem is.
You gave him what he wanted, I think. And now he’s done.
Fine. I don’t give a shit if he likes me or not, I just want to get out of his house in the desert and back to my life.
You know, the life where I’m not a hostage?
I knot the sheet around myself and make coffee, shuffling around the kitchen with my mummy feet. Walking still hurts, but it hurts a lot less than yesterday, and I feel optimistic for the first time since Friday night.
I might get out of this okay, I think.
When the coffee’s done, I take a mug and sit on the couch. I look at the piles of VHS tapes, but I’m so sick of watching movies that I might puke if I put one on.
I consider Sorority Sluts, though. Maybe if that were playing when Alex came back I could get him in the mood one more time...
His SUV pulls up outside, and I glance at the tapes.
Then I hear voices. Two of them.
Before I can stand, the door opens, and two guys in white t-shirts and jeans come through. They’re both nondescript and short, one bald, both covered in ugly, fading tattoos.
The bald one looks at me and grins. Something flashes as he raises his hand, and he points a gun at me.
They’re both holding guns. Both pointing at me.
“You must be Tessa,” the bald guy says, gesturing at me with the gun.
Reflexively I cover my face with my hands, and I slosh coffee all over myself. I barely notice that it burns. I have no idea who these guys are or how they know who I am — and where’s Alex?
I’ve been afraid of the wrong thing this whole time.
“I see the Scorpion’s been here,” the other guy says, and he grabs his crotch.
They both laugh, and I look at them through my fingers. I’m shaking, but I manage to put my now-empty coffee mug down on the table and swallow.