by N. S. Moore
It’s plain to see that he wants it bad too.
Then I suddenly get an idea, even though the hot haze of my inappropriate arousal. If I’m this distracted by my physical response, then he’ll probably be too.
He wants me. I can use it. It’s the only advantage I have here.
I’ve had sex with men before without feeling any sort of affection, respect, or even real interest in them. I can have sex with this guy too without it changing who and what I am.
If he fucks me, he might feel more attached to me and won’t want to hurt me. He might even let me go.
And, if that doesn’t work, then maybe he’ll be distracted enough for me to get away.
Either way, it gives me the advantage, and all I lose is another fuck with a guy I don’t like.
I can do it. I can survive this.
I want to survive.
“I do,” I gasped, arching up into his body. “I want it. Oh, fuck, please.”
My body wants it. My mind doesn’t. But my mind can use my body to get what it wants.
He makes a sound in this throat—like a growl, and this is a totally different kind of growl than the mean one he makes when he’s angry. And he pulls up enough to curl his fingers around the bottom of my top and start to pull it up.
I’d have thought he’d be rough about undressing me, but the move is surprisingly slow, as if he’s waiting for me to stop him.
I don’t stop him. I’m not in the habit of stopping men who undress me, and I need him to be totally into this if it’s going to work.
He’s gotten my top up enough to expose my lacy pink bra when a loud crash makes me squeal in surprise.
Then a lot of things happen at once. It takes longer to describe than it actually takes to happen. Both of us turn in surprise toward the door of the room, which has been kicked in by the super-scary guy who shot the robber and hostage in the alley behind the bank.
He’s even scarier than ever now, and he’s holding a gun. “Fucking bastard! You think you can get away with my diamonds?”
My hostage-taker leaps to his feet, and then ducks out of the way when a gunshot sounds. Then he hurls himself on the other guy, and the two of them fall to the floor in a violent tumble.
The gun falls out of the scary guy’s hand as he hits the ground.
It takes me a minute to get my bearings, since it’s all happening so fast I can barely keep up. But I eventually manage to stumble to my feet, and then I run over to grab the gun, which neither of the guys have been able to reach, since they’re trapped in a vicious wrestling match on the floor.
I’m considering just taking the gun and walking out the door while my hostage-taker is distracted, but then I squeal in surprise when an arm reaches to grab me from behind.
Another bad guy came into the room after the first, and I’d been too distracted to notice.
The guy is trying to grab the gun from me, but I don’t want to let it go. I’m not stupid, and I know my life is in more danger at the moment than it’s ever been before.
Acting on instinct, I swing out my arm and clobber the guy in the face with the gun. Unfortunately, it’s not hard enough to knock him out, but it’s hard enough to get him to loosen his grip.
I yank myself away from him and scramble away, ending up in a corner of the room with the gun held out in front of me.
Somebody would have heard the gunshot earlier. Someone surely has called the police and they’re on their way here even now. I just need to stay in this corner and hold off the bad guys with a gun until help arrives.
I’m going to do it. My hand is trembling desperately as it holds the gun, but I’m determined to do it.
My hostage-taker has managed to get the upper-hand on the scary guy, even though the other guy is bigger than him. He’s gotten to his feet and gives him a hard kick in the ribs. Then he swings his fist and knocks the second guy out without even appearing to make an effort.
It’s pretty impressive—I have to admit.
“Come on,” he mutters, reaching out for me.
I raise the gun and point it at him.
“It’s out of bullets,” he says matter-of-factly, walking toward me with no fear at all.
I gasp in surprise and outrage and, just for the briefest of moments, glance down at the gun. It’s enough of a distraction for him to reach out and grab it out of my hand.
The fucking asshole just took the gun out of my hand, and I’m evidently stupid enough to have let him.
For a moment, I’m so angry I want to scream.
He grabs my arm and drags me with him.
“I’ll find you,” the scary guy says, trying to drag himself up off the floor. “There’s nowhere you can hide. I’ll find you and make you pay.”
I guess they’re rather clichéd words, but they give me chills of fear anyway. This guy is scary enough to make your blood run cold, and he obviously hates my hostage-taker more than anything.
Said hostage-taker just kicks the guy again, hard, right in the ribs, before he leans down and pulls keys out of the guys pocket and then drags me out of the room.
There are a few cars parked in the motel lot, and one of them is a tricked-out, black Escalade.
“Get in,” he says, hauling ass into the driver’s seat as the two guys we left in the room appear and start limping after us.
I’d rather stay with this guy than be left with those scary guys, so I climb into the passenger seat as fast as I can.
He’s out of the lot before I can even put my seatbelt on.
We drive for a couple of miles, but then he pulls over into the large parking lot of a strip mall. “We can’t keep this car. He’ll be able to track it.”
That makes sense to me, so I start to get out when he does.
Then he’s patting himself all over, and I have no idea why until I see him pull a tiny device out of one of his pockets. “Fucking Deke put a tracker on me.”
That must be how they found us so easily in the hotel.
The guy drops the tracker into a nearby garbage can and grabs my arm again. “Remember, if you try to run away from me or say anything, I’ll hurt you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it.”
“Is that sass?” He gave me a stone-cold glare.
I’ll have to work harder if I’m going to get him turned on again. That will have to be my strategy. “Sorry,” I say, dropping my eyes. “I’ll be good.”
“You better be good,” he replies, in a slightly mollified tone. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Wren.”
“What the hell kind of name is Wren?”
“It’s like the bird. My mom named me because I was so tiny and delicate when I was born.”
“You’re still tiny and delicate,” he mutters, pulling me along with him. I have no idea where he’s going, but he’s heading for the strip mall.
“I’m not that delicate. I got the gun from that guy in the room.”
“Yeah, you did.”
I’m not sure, but I’m hoping there’s faint appreciation in his tone. Not that sexy arousal, though. That’s what I need to go for.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Code.”
“And you were asking about my name? What kind of name is Code?”
“It’s a name.”
“Not one I’ve ever heard before.”
“Okay, shut up for a minute and let me think. I’ve got the crew and the cops both after me, and I’m hauling you and a buttload of diamonds around. I’ve got to figure out what to do next.”
I have to bite back a sarcastic response about how it’s obviously great effort for him to think at all. That’s not the way to get him thinking about sex again.
It’s kind of hard for me to think about sex too, since my heart is racing from fear and fatigue, as I’m trying to keep up with Code’s long stride.
But, if there’s any way for me to get out of this nightmare alive, it’s by using sex. So that’s what I’m going to do.
/> Eight
Code
That’s twice in one day that I should’ve been dead. I feel like a fucking cat with nine lives. The only problem with that is, the way that I’m blazing through them, those lives will be gone in no time.
Now I’ve got to figure out what the hell to do and how to get out of town—away from Deke and the crew. If I was alone it wouldn’t be a problem, but now I’ve got Wren.
Fucking Wren.
I should have just tossed her aside once we were out of the bank, but no, I thought it was safer to hold onto her as a hostage. Now Deke and everyone else knows she’s with me, saw what she looks like, and she might not be safe now, even if I let her go.
This is like the worst fucking day ever.
Confidence has always been my thing. I never lacked it—even in my previous life. But right now, I’m kind of freaking out. I’ve got nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. And I’ve got Wren.
I can’t even dwell on her presence because she’s here because of me. Eventually things will have to die down and I’ll let her go. But not until I’m sure that we’re both getting out of this alive.
The strip mall is closing, and it’s one that I’m fairly familiar with. Back before my days with Deke and the crew, I had managed to live here—like a mall rat—for a while. If luck can just stay on my side for a little bit longer, we can at least be safe for tonight. Deke may find his fucking car here, but no one ever knew about my connection to this place.
I yank on Wren’s arm, pulling her behind me.
“Where are we going?” she asks. I’m getting a little tired of her attitude. I know she’s pissed that she’s still with me, but there’s nothing I can do about it, and she should realize that by now and just shut up.
“Hiding out for the night.”
“At the mall?” There’s that tone again, and I whip her around until she’s in front of me and practically falling on her face. The only thing breaking her fall is my grip on her hand. She yells out in pain, and for a minute I wonder bleakly if I’ve broken her wrist. “Code, what the hell?”
Face to face, I bring her in close. “Yeah. We’re hiding out at the fucking mall. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s better than that fleabag motel, and it’s better than the fucking morgue. So unless you have a better idea, shut up and keep moving.”
She keeps moving.
She’s making me fucking crazy. One minute she’s arguing with me, and the next she’s helping me.
And God help me when she’s moving beneath me and making me hard.
I walk us around to the back of the mall and find my go-to spot. There’s a pizza place that’s open late, and they always keep the back door open. When you go in, you can’t see into the place—that entrance is a little off to the right. But to the left there’s a door leading to the basement.
It’s dark, and it’s damp, and it’s a little like where we hid out after the shooting in the alley earlier, but with a little perseverance, we move to another door which opens to a common storage area for the mall.
I motion for Wren to be quiet. The mall isn’t quite closed yet, and we’re going to have to stay put until I’m sure that everything’s shut down for the night. The rent-a-cops that patrol the place are nothing to worry about. They barely get off their asses, and they never come down here. I find a couple of boxes for us to sit on.
“How do you know about this place?” she asks.
“I used to come here sometimes.” I check my watch and mentally count down until the time we can move freely.
“Won’t that scary dude and the other guy find us here? Their car is right outside.”
“Nah, they have no idea about this place. They’ll think that I either hotwired another car or we took off on foot. We’re good for tonight.”
The good thing is that we’re safe.
The bad thing is that we can smell the food being cooked above us at the pizza place. My stomach growls. Wren’s might have too.
“I’m kind of hungry,” she says quietly.
“Give it another hour and we’ll get something.” She looks at me like I’m insane.
“Or…” she begins, “I could go upstairs and get something. I have cash. I can get us food and bring it down here.”
I laugh out loud, and that hopeful look on her face disappears. “You don’t get it, do you? People are looking for you too, Princess. And not just your daddy and the cops. Deke and Farris? They saw you. You hit fucking Farris in the face. You think a guy like that is going to just forget it?” I raise my voice as I straighten to my feet, and I can tell that I’m scaring her.
Good. Less chance of her walking away on her own.
“You may not have stolen anything. You’re not a wanted criminal. But you’ve definitely pissed off the wrong people. If they even get a whiff of you, they’re going to come after you.”
“But…but…”
I lean down close into her face. Her eyes going wide, and I can see the pulse in her neck jumping. “And they’re not going to play nice like I have,” I say through clenched teeth. “They’re going to enjoy you for a while. Repeatedly.”
She swallows hard.
“They’ll make you wish that you were dead by the time they’re done doing all kinds of things with your body. So no. You’re not going to just skip upstairs and grab us some dinner. Got it?”
She nods, and I notice tears forming in her eyes. For a minute, I feel like shit. She didn’t ask for this—any of this. I dragged her into it, and unfortunately, it’s up to me to get her out of it.
Get both of us out of this.
Eventually.
I sit back down beside her, and if I’m not mistaken, she shifts closer. What the fuck? I look over at her, and sure enough, she’s almost plastered to my side. I continue to stare at her until her eyes meet mine.
“Don’t let them get me, Code,” she says softly, weakly.
Hell, maybe I took the threat earlier a little too far.
Her eyes shift from mine to my lips and back again. Her pink tongue comes out to lick her lips. “Promise me that you won’t let them take me.”
Her breath is hot on my cheek now, and my cock begins to twitch.
Then she puts her hand on my thigh and all of the remaining blood in my head rushes south. I could cut fucking diamonds, my cock is so hard. How can I even be thinking about sex right now when things are so fucked up?
Reaching up, I cup her cheek in my hand. It’s filthy compared to her creamy white skin, and I feel like I shouldn’t even be touching her.
But I can’t help myself.
“No one’s taking you, Wren,” I say gruffly as she leans in a little closer.
Except me, I think darkly and lower my mouth to hers.
Nine
Wren
My plan is working.
It’s definitely working.
Code is totally turned on as he kisses me hard. He’s thinking about nothing but sex. It’s where I need him to be. It will distract him, soften him, something, anything that might work to my advantage.
It’s wrong and sick and weird that I’m totally turned on too, but I just have to go with that. Survival is more important than the way my pussy is pulsing with desire right now.
I moan against his mouth because Code is just so much. He’s so much of everything—so big, strong, hard, and demanding. His mouth is devouring mine, his lips moving urgently, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
I open to him—not just because I know it’s the smartest strategy but because I want to. I want to feel even more of him.
He pushes forward with his weight until I’m on my back on the box, which is kind of uncomfortable and unstable but it only sends the spiraling excitement clouding my mind even higher. I clutch at his broad shoulders and try to hang on.
“Fuck,” he grits out, tearing his mouth away from mine. “What the hell…”
He doesn’t finish the question, and I don’t know what he was really asking. Was he wondering why he was so turne
d on, when he was being chased on all sides with only a hostage for cover? Or was he wondering why I was turned on, when I should be trying to rip out his throat?
His blue eyes are like fire, and they rake over my face and then lower to my breasts, which feel like they’re straining in my bra, my hard nipples clearly visible through thin fabric of my bra and top. “You are so fucking hot,” he mutters, his eyes moving back up to my face.
He seems to be holding back for some reason—or maybe just taking his time. Either way, I don’t want him to have time to think things through or second-guess himself. I want him to let his cock take control so his mind gets completely turned off.
I’ve seen it happen to guys over and over again. They’re really not that hard to manipulate if they’re suffering from a raging hard-on.
So I arch my back enough to display my breasts better, my breath coming out in fast, little pants. I tell myself it’s part of the strategy, but it’s really not. My whole body is flaming, flushed, embarrassingly aroused. I’ve never felt this way before in my life. Not once.
“What are you…what are you doing?” I asked, making my voice throaty and just a little helpless. It’s not hard to fake. At all.
“Don’t act all innocent. You know exactly what I’m doing. It’s what you want too.” He runs one hand over my breasts, feeling the curve of them, the tightened nipples through my top.
I gasp at the jolt of sensation I feel in my pussy.
“That’s right,” he mutters, low and erotic. “You are so turned on right now. Just as turned on as me.”
“This can’t be…be right.” I can’t act too eager or he’ll get suspicious—I have enough sense left to realize that. I shift beneath him as he hands rubs down along my belly, then up to my breasts again, and then lower. All the way to my groin. “Oh God!” I close my eyes and turn my head away, as pleasure surges out from his touch.
“Who the fuck cares if it’s right?” He’s pulling up my top now, pulling it off over my head, then reaching around to take off my bra. “You want it anyway. Don’t you?”
I moan as the cool, damp air touches my bare skin, and then moan again when his hands start to move over my naked breasts urgently, almost roughly.