The Cajun's Captive (Stormy Weather, Book One)

by Selena Blake

  Where no one could hear her scream.

  He had plans for that gorgeous body of hers. He couldn't wait to feel her feminine curves against him, under him. Her tight sheath around his cock as he slid in and out of her, bringing them both to the brink of ecstasy.

  “There's no reason for me to go with you,” she insisted, sounding a little more panicked now and a lot more breathless.

  “Sure there is, chérie.” Sebastian opened the front door and stepped out into the hot damp air.

  “I don't think so.” She kicked, her knee nailing him in the gut.

  “Hold still, woman! I don’ wanna hurt you.”

  That got her attention. She froze atop his shoulder.

  He started down the stairs toward the garage. The rain showered down on them, soaking the thin fabric of his T-shirt, but he hardly noticed.

  “Just let me go, Sebastian. I have a job, a life in New York!” she pleaded.

  “And some boyfriend up there as well, no doubt.”

  “I don't have a boyfriend.”

  “Really? No boyfriend.” He entered the garage and pulled his key chain from his pocket.

  “Really. Now. Put. Me. Down!”

  “Can't. You've seen too much.”

  Chapter Four

  The next thing Amanda knew, she was in the back of Sebastian's Mercedes with her hands and feet tied. She'd caught a glimpse of the license plate before he'd deposited her in the backseat. Appropriately, it read ALPHA. She sneered with disgust, partly at him, partly at herself, but mostly at the whole situation.

  “I can't believe you tied me up. You big jerk,” she yelled as he circled the car.

  He laughed as he landed in the driver's seat and glanced back at her in the rear view mirror. “So, I'm a jerk and a rat.” He sounded amused.

  She wanted to wipe the amusement off his face. For the hundredth time, she wondered what the hell had caused her to drive out to his sprawling estate and get out of her car. And what had possessed her to hop the fence instead of ringing from the call box? She knew her curiosity had gotten the better of her. That was never going to happen again.

  Part of her wanted to give him what for. The other part desperately wanted to curl up in his arms and beg him to make love to her.

  She was crazy for even thinking it. She'd seen him with her own eyes... in wolf form. With fur, four paws and a snout. A slow tremor shook her body and she told herself not to be afraid. He’d never hurt her before, why would he start now. But even though she'd believed for years, seeing it, seeing the truth... she couldn't stop trembling.

  “You should thank me, chérie.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I just saved you from having three men at once.”

  A gasp caught in her throat, but to her surprise and humiliation, she found her pussy growing damp at the thought. How perverted was that? What was wrong with her?

  Sure, she’d been attracted to all three Deveraux brothers when she’d been young. But she was an adult now. She couldn’t be thinking about them like that. And certainly not together.

  But the thought lingered. She wondered what it would be like to be with the three of them. Could they stop fighting long enough to drive her crazy with pleasure? Nibbling on her bottom lip, she let her imagination run away with her. Six hands to caress her skin, three hard cocks to ride until she couldn’t stand up.

  “Forget it Amanda. It’s not going to happen,” Sebastian said darkly. A crack of thunder drove his point home.

  “You’re crazy,” she chided even as she pressed her thighs together and tried to think of anything but being in bed with the three of them.

  “I’m not the one thinking naughty thoughts about screwing three men at once.” A jet-black eyebrow rose in a way she found both arrogant and infuriating.

  Obviously, he could read her thoughts. She fumed silently, sprawled across the backseat with the bathrobe gaping open. No doubt, passing truckers would get an eyeful. That just pissed her off more. The Sebastian she'd known and loved would've never put her on display like this.

  She watched the scenery as best she could from her vantage point. The miles ticked by.

  “This is kidnapping,” she said finally, breaking the silent treatment.

  “I've been accused of worse.”

  “I don't doubt it,” she said hotly. He glanced at her in the mirror, as if questioning her sanity. She rolled her eyes and rested her check against the soft leather of the back seat. It smelled of leather and wet dog. Figured.

  After what seemed like hours, she struggled into a sitting position. At least, she was halfway sitting. The ropes were cutting into her skin, and she'd long lost feeling to her fingers. She craved the freedom to move. Craved circulation. Sebastian had been very careful as he'd tied her, even though she hadn't made it easy on him.

  Why he'd bother to tie her at all, she didn't know. Did he think she was going to jump out of a moving car? And why was he taking her with him? She didn't want to be in some shack when Hurricane Camilla roared ashore. The man was crazy. Certifiable.

  He was also like a drug. As much as she tried to resist, she'd never been able to get enough. The only thing that had worked had been moving half a country away.

  She stared at his strong jaw and had the strongest urge to run her fingertips over the shadow of stubble there.

  “You can let me go, you know.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you'll run.”

  “We're back to that?” She sighed and glanced out the window. Dark clouds hung low in the sky and rain pelted them. The windshield wipers were working overtime as they sped south.

  “I'm just basing my decision on history.”

  “I didn't have any other choice. You wouldn't understand.”

  “Try me, chérie.”

  Did he have to use that sweet accent of his? Or call her chérie? Surely, he knew his endearments, as natural as they were, made her heart flutter a bit.

  It shouldn't flutter at all. She should be mad as heck. A few days ago, she'd had the hottest job in New York city, a closet full of great shoes that she could barely afford, and a life without Sebastian. Without his brooding good looks, she'd had her heart firmly in her chest. There'd been no chance of him ripping it from her and stomping on it.

  Now she was tied in the backseat of his car. With no shoes and only a scrap of her dignity. So why wasn't she spitting mad?

  Something was definitely wrong. Maybe she'd hit her head when she'd fallen off his porch. Maybe he'd enchanted her. Did werewolves have magical powers like that? She'd heard rumors...

  “What are you thinking about in that beautiful head of yours?”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  She had to stay strong. Use what little bit of strength and anger she had left. Being this close to him put her in serious danger of falling for his temptation. Falling under his spell. It was lust. She had to remember that. That's all he was offering.

  “That's not true. Your pulse leapt the tiniest little bit when I called you beautiful. You can't deny it, Manda. Any more than you can deny your desire for me.”

  She huffed. Of course she desired him. She'd have to be blind not to. It ticked her off that she was so easy to read. So obvious in her attraction.

  “You're full of it,” she scoffed.

  “You deny it?”

  Before she could answer, he pulled the car to a stop on the shoulder. The sudden movement tossed her forward. The second they stopped, he was out of his seat and opening the back door. Her heart thundered in her chest. He had a dangerous look in his eyes. Water droplets pelted his shirt, clung to his hair.

  Somehow, he folded himself into the backseat and then pulled her into his lap.

  “What're you doing?” A shiver raced up her spine. He was too close. Much too close. He would surely read all the secrets in her eyes.

  She looked away.

  “Look at me, chérie.”

 
She shook her head.

  Patiently, he cupped her cheek in his hand. Dear God, she wanted to rub against it, wanted to feel his hands in her hair, his fingers against her lips, her skin, her breasts. This was madness. She’d come down here for a funeral, for goodness sakes. This wasn't supposed to happen.

  Reluctantly she met his eyes.

  “That's better.” He stared at her as if searching for something. “Now tell me you don't desire me.”

  Looking at him made her stomach do little cartwheels. She was so tired of denying the truth. Denying her desire for him. She was tired of protecting herself all the time, of trying too damn hard not to be her mother.

  She shook her head again, unable to say the words aloud, but couldn't help leaning into him. His hand stroked her side through the thick material of his robe and she yearned to remove the fabric. To be naked in his arms. To feel his skin against hers.

  “That's right. You can't say it. It's not true. You've always wanted me, mon amour. Just as I've always wanted you.”

  Her eyes swerved up. He knew she'd had a crush on him? He'd always wanted her? What about what he'd said to Jules?

  She started to speak but the words came out in a jumbled heap. The chill bumps came back full force and she shivered beneath the thick robe.

  “Shh...” His gaze flicked to her lips and she licked them quickly. Hoping, praying he'd kiss her. Their breath mingled. God, how she'd dreamed of this. Of being this close.

  “We need to get back on the road. Don't wanna get stuck out here with the storm a comin’.”

  He kissed her forehead and lifted her from his lap. That was it? That was all?

  He came back here and told her how much he wanted her? And didn't even steal a kiss?

  “Men,” she mumbled.

  He got out of the back seat, slammed the door and then opened his to get back in the driver’s seat.

  She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him to get back here and put her out of a dozen years of lust-filled misery.

  Sebastian pressed his foot down hard on the pedal, hoping the tires wouldn't slip on the water. His resolve was in jeopardy. He'd simply meant to prove to her that she couldn't lie to him, show her that he knew her as well as she knew herself. He could see in her eyes how much she wanted him.

  Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to bring her down here to the middle of nowhere. If he'd stayed at his estate, he could already be inside her sweet body.

  Damn. Damn. Double damn.

  His cock was rock hard. They'd be at the cabin soon. He had to get control of himself. He'd already put in a call to Judge Rothburn, who’d be meeting them there soon.

  Manda grumbled to herself. He couldn't quite make out what she said, but a look in the mirror told him she was fuming.

  “What's got yer feathers ruffled, chérie?”

  “You! You, Sebastian. Always playing God. You've kidnapped me. Tied my hands and feet. As if I'm going somewhere.”

  “You're still denying that you ran away from me nine years ago?”

  “I ran away from everything,” she cried. Surprised at her outburst, he looked back at her again. Even in the murky light, he could see pink staining her cheeks. “From you. From here. These people.”

  “Why, Manda?”

  “I didn't want to end up like my mom.”

  What?

  He saw his turn coming up and gently pressed the break. Just another minute. Then they were getting to the bottom of this.

  Spotting the cabin on the left, he flipped the blinker and pulled into the driveway.

  “You call this a cabin?” Manda asked, her gaze fixed on the wide wooden structure.

  “A fishing cabin, oui. My brothers, cousins and I each have a key.” A button on the dash opened the garage door. When they were safely inside, he turned the car off and then glanced over his shoulder at her.

  She stared at him wide eyed, then shook her head.

  “Now tell me, cher, how did your mother end up?”

  “Please. As if you don't know. She was the laughing stock of Louisiana.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that. Her mother had always been warm and friendly. Even when he and his brothers kept snooping around her daughter. His own mother had never been warm or friendly toward him.

  “How so?”

  She let out a frustrated sigh, as if explaining was either painful or beneath her. “Are you going to untie me?”

  He draped his arm over the back of the passenger's seat and regarded her slowly. She writhed beneath his gaze just as he wanted her to. He wanted her on edge, white hot with lust. Because he intended to have her very, very soon. For a very, very, very long time.

  “Not until you tell me what I want to know.”

  “You're insufferable.”

  “Why didn't you want to be like your mom? She was nice. Caring.”

  “She loved a man who never loved her back.”

  He looked in her eyes and could see her pain.

  “What do you mean, cher?” He didn’t understand. His parents had never been in love but that didn't stop him from wanting it. Wanting her.

  “My dad never loved my mother. He had relationships behind her back constantly. I think she died of a broken heart, not heart disease.”

  So that's why she'd only come back when her father died. As far as he knew, they hadn’t seen each other in the nine years she’d been gone. And now that her dad was dead, well, she didn't seem entirely upset about it.

  Damn, he wished he'd known. He would have been there for her. Puzzle pieces started to fall into place. So that's why she'd run. She'd thought her feelings, her desires, were one sided.

  He didn't see how. He'd always craved her. Women never made sense to him. Especially human women. They expected men to read their minds. Afraid to say what they wanted, take what they wanted.

  She brushed the hair from her eyes and he caught sight of her bound wrists.

  “Hold that thought.” He got out of the car and went to turn on the overhead light. While the garage door was rumbling closed, he opened her door.

  “Promise not to run?” he asked.

  “Never,” she said but her words lacked conviction. She wiggled toward the edge of the seat.

  The bathrobe gaped, showing off her creamy skin. Just a little farther and he'd be able to see her breasts. Veuillez Dieu. She caught him looking at her and frowned up at him. She was terribly cute with her pouty lips and crinkled forehead. Her long hair was disheveled around her face, almost dry.

  “Let me help you,” he whispered and gathered her in his arms. She didn't make a sound, merely held herself rigid.

  As he carried her into the house, brilliant blue lightning lit the sky. Silently he counted the seconds until he heard the first crack of thunder.

  “Storm's movin' fast. I'd better get started,” he murmured against her cheek, reluctant to let her go. He felt and heard her sharp intake of breath. So, she wasn't as unmoved as she wanted him to think.

  That made it even harder to put her down, to step away from her, when all he wanted to do was strip her down and touch her everywhere. Kiss and lick until he’d explored every inch of her body.

  He left her standing in front of the leather sofa in the living room and went to find the candles and flashlights. He deposited those on the coffee table in front of her and then went to bring the patio furniture in off the deck. Her gaze followed him the whole time.

  He could feel the tension growing. Her impatience. Her resistance. Her anger seemed to boil just below the surface.

  But he could smell her desire. He knew that once he dipped into her he wouldn't be able to stay afloat.

  “You can have a seat, you know,” he told her as he passed by with the last of the chairs.

  “I have to pee,” she said between gritted teeth.

  “Well, then... We do have a bathroom here. We're not totally primitive.” He let the last word hang in the air.

  Her eyebrows shot skyward.

  “It's through
that door over there.” He pointed.

  “And how am I going to get there? Hop like a rabbit?”

  Her sassy response made him smile. Damn, he’d missed her. Andre was right. He was a fool. Sometimes he was stuck in his own world and needed a good smack upside the head.