by Gemma James
“C’mon, sweetheart, scream for me. Beg me to stop.”
“No,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
He struck again, and this time I let out an involuntary yelp.
“That’s better.”
Crack!
“Stop!” I clenched my thighs, and my hands fisted within the restraint of the belt. Jax caught my gaze, and I noticed his fingers curling around the chair back, knuckles turning ash-white. He licked his lips, eyes glazed over with arousal.
Rafe continued to paddle my ass, and the three of us fell into an odd sort of silence. There was no talking, and I held back any sounds of pain, or God forbid, pleasure. Only the smack of thick wood to skin echoed through the room.
I drifted into a space outside myself as Rafe increased the pressure of the strikes. After about thirty, he set the paddle down on the table, his breathing coming fast and hard. I sensed him moving closer, heard a zipper lower, and I tightened my already clenched muscles.
“Spread your legs.”
Hands forming fists, I let my head drop to the table as I parted my thighs. Mortification burned my cheeks again, hotter than before because he was about to fuck me in front of his friend. Even worse, they were about to learn the truth about me.
His hands fell to my hips, and he entered me with a single, forceful plunge. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He laughed, thrusting so hard, he pushed me higher onto the table until my feet left the floor. “I would’ve never guessed. You get off on this shit, don’t you?”
A tear leaked out, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” I said with a moan.
“Are you apologizing because you get off on pain and humiliation, or are you apologizing for something else?”
“I’m just…sorry.” Sorry for being the way I was because my fucked up nature was at the root of why he’d gone to prison. I was sorry for so much.
He slowed the pace, his cock sliding in and out with gentle rhythm. I scratched my nails on the surface of the table and moaned.
Jax let out a moan too. I lifted my head as he reached for his zipper. His head fell back, hooded eyes watching me as his hand pumped in his lap.
Rafe’s shallow thrusts tormented me, rubbing in just the right spot. My need dripped down my thighs, seeping from my body in a gentle pull that made me grind my teeth. I abused the air with deep, throaty cries.
“I need to come,” I begged.
“No, you’re not getting off. If you do, I’ll choke you again.”
I gasped. “I can’t hold back!”
“I said no.” He smacked my ass and rammed me. Hard. Painfully hard. I concentrated on anything but him moving inside me. The thunder reverberating overhead, the hard edge of the table biting into my belly, the eerie howl of a train. Even Jax’s grunts as he neared orgasm. Anything but Rafe.
It wasn’t enough. I was going to come again, and he was going to choke me, a thought that terrified me. I could handle a lot of things, but having my air cut off wasn’t one of them. Unbidden, the image of Zach entered my mind, and I held onto it, remembered all the times he’d dragged my panties down and pinned me to the bed. My bed. The one place I was supposed to feel safest. I recalled how he’d muffled my sobs in the pillow, how he’d beaten me in places where the bruises wouldn’t show. Still, my body had turned on me.
This was his fault. He’d made me the way I was, and I hated him for it.
Rafe pushed into me one last time and stilled, fisting my hair as he came. Jax came too, as if they’d timed it. His breathing gradually slowed as he traced a lazy path down my back. Gooseflesh erupted from his touch—a sensation that contrasted with the searing ache in my core. He released my hands, picked me up, and threw my soaked body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Water dripped from my hair and left a trail on the floor as he carried me toward the cellar. He stopped on the way and grabbed a towel from the bathroom.
I was shivering violently when he approached the cage. “Don’t leave me in there. Please.” I clutched his wet jeans, but he dislodged me way too easily and set me on my feet.
“Two nights, Alex. That’s what your little escape attempt earned you.” He kept me at his side, one hand fisting my hair as he unlocked the cage. He shoved me inside, and the towel landed on the concrete at my feet.
I turned around and helplessly watched while he shut and secured the door. “Rafe…please…” I blinked several times, but his unwavering expression swam in my vision.
“Do I need to restrain your hands?”
“Why would you need to do that?” I gestured to my prison. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
He laughed. “No masturbating.”
The idea of touching myself was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I was pretty certain if I did, it would only make me want the real thing more. I still ached for him, so much, despite the wall of bars standing between us while he held the key to my freedom.
“I’ll be back in the morning to feed you.” He turned, as if I meant nothing, and once again the darkness suffocated me.
Two things haunted me: I had a son I'd yet to meet, and I had a naked captive in the cellar—a tempting, kinky one I ached to fuck again. I adjusted my jeans and tried to force my mind onto other things, but the fact that two days had gone by, in which I hadn't dealt with either issue, wouldn’t leave me alone.
Neither would Nikki. She’d tried calling several times—I had eight unheard messages on my cell but was too chicken-shit to listen to them, let alone return her calls. I had no clue what to say to her anyway, mainly because she had no clue I’d kidnapped a woman and was now holding said woman in my cellar. Those weren’t exactly the actions of father material. The kid was probably better off never knowing me.
The cabin was too fucking quiet, too still. Alex had remained unnervingly silent, even when I’d gone down there to feed her, and Jax had gone into work. Enough was enough. She was mine—mine to play with, mine to torment. Fucking mine. If I wanted to fuck her again, I would. No more thoughts of how terrified she’d looked when she’d fallen into the river, or how my heart stopped as I tried to get hers working again.
My footsteps fell heavily on the stairs, and when I reached the bottom, I found her huddled in her favorite corner, her cheek to the concrete and body curled into a ball underneath the towel I’d left with her. It was cruel and inhumane, but damn, it was a sight I'd never forget. Besides, better to be hard and mean now, get her to fall into line, than return her to the cellar numerous times because I'd been too soft on her. I definitely didn’t want a repeat of the river.
Something enfolded my heart and squeezed. Fuck, she’d almost died, and whether I liked it or not, part of me would have died with her. My actions had nearly gotten her killed, and regardless of what she’d done, I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her. I wanted to punish her, but I also couldn’t deny that I straight up wanted her. Period.
She’d become my world, my obsession, and I had no plans to let her off this island.
“If I let you out, will you behave?”
“Yes,” she said, the word falling from her lips in lifeless fashion. Maybe I’d finally broken her.
“Will you try to run again?”
“You know I won't. Where would I go?”
“Things are going to change around here. No more tantrums, no more back-talking or throwing dishes.” I paused long enough to unlock the cage and enter. “No more escape attempts. You’ll do as you’re told, when you’re told, without argument, or next time you’ll spend a lot more time down here. Do you understand me?”
“Y…yes,” she said through chattering teeth. “I’m so cold.”
Damn it. I was walking a fine line between breaking her and risking her becoming ill. “Okay.” Crouching, I brushed tangled hair from her eyes. A strand caught between her lips, and I ran a finger along the seam of her mouth to remove it. Her lips were chapped, her face pale, but what bothered me most was the emptiness in her expression. I remembered how deep her fe
ar of water ran, and I shuddered as images flashed in my mind. Her eyes wide with terror, arms reaching for me as she splashed into the murky river.
Shaking off the recollections, I pulled her to her feet, then stood back and gave her time to stretch her muscles. “C’mon,” I said, reaching out a hand. “Let’s get you clean and warm, then you can start that good behavior by making dinner.” We made our way up to my bedroom, where I directed her into the bathroom. Her eyes grew large and round at the sight of the garden tub.
“Alex, the shower.” I pointed to the huge stall tucked on the other side of the tub. Last thing I needed was an episode of hysterics.
She folded her arms. “You don’t have to stay. I can shower on my own. There’s nowhere for me to—” She cut off when she turned to face me. Her gaze followed my movements as I lifted the hem of my T-shirt up my chest, and I couldn’t help the smirk that flitted across my lips.
“No, sweetheart. I’m getting in with you.” I gestured toward the stall, a large enclosure of walls made with blue and grey tile. A narrow opening served as the entrance. She gawked at me a for a few seconds, and I was so close to shoving her inside because shit…I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her body.
My mouth gaped at his muscular chest, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from him when he lowered his jeans. The charcoal gray boxer briefs went the way of his pants. He displayed his body without shame or modesty. I took in every inch of him, especially the dark tribal lines that streaked across the left side of his chest and down both arms. I wanted to follow that map with my lips and fingertips, wanted to lick down his muscles, past his abs, only stopping long enough to tease his erection with my tongue.
“Have you seen enough yet?”
I jumped, lifting my attention to his face, and felt my own flush. Furious Rafe scared the shit out of me, and naked, lustful-looking Rafe made me just as nervous. Both versions were passionate and cold, stable one minute yet irrational the next. I lowered my gaze to his erection. Moisture collected at the tip, and some secret part of my psyche celebrated. I did that to him, without even touching him.
He couldn’t hide his desire like I could mine, collecting between my closed thighs, stowed away and out of sight.
This was the first time I’d felt anything during the past two days. While locked away in the dark, I’d found a way to shut down. Maybe I’d experienced a delayed reaction to the horror of nearly drowning, but when he left me alone in that cellar, shivering more violently than ever before, my brain simply stopped functioning like normal. Somehow, I’d found a way to cope.
I’d pretended to be somewhere else. Someone else. I’d made up a new identity. In my new dream world, I called myself Amy. Amy was plain and boring and absurdly happy. Amy had a loving, devoted husband, two adorable kids, and a perfect, non-smelly dog named Zippo. Amy lived in the south, possibly Arizona, where it was dry and sweltering under the sun.
“Get in,” Rafe said, bunching his hands, and the fantasy of another life dissolved, leaving cold, hard truth in its wake.
I resisted the urge to cover myself as I entered the shower. Next to his beautiful physique, my filthy and unkempt body with curves in all the wrong places paled in comparison.
He stepped in after me and turned on the dual shower heads. Hot spray filled every corner, hitting us from all directions. I gasped when he shoved me against the freezing tile. Without a word, he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into a palm before rubbing both hands together.
I closed my eyes and focused on breathing as he started washing my hair, but when he added more soap and slid his hands down my shoulders and over my breasts, I almost came undone, unprepared for those hands gliding over me. As his fingers blazed along my skin, I wrestled with my demons, the ones that lived to remind me of what a dirty whore I was. I’d never experienced what was considered a normal physical reaction to sex, the ability to enjoy it without the threat of force or violence. No one had ever made me feel like this. Rafe had more power in a single touch than Zach had in his entire being.
The heat flaming between my thighs was undeniable, unbearable, and I whimpered when those strong hands drifted over my stomach and smoothed down my legs.
“I’ll have to buy you a shaving kit.” He caressed behind a knee. “I want to shave these legs.”
A shiver traveled along my skin from head to toe, contradictory to the hot shower. He worked his way up my body and tilted my head so the water sluiced over my face and hair.
“Soap’s gone. You can open your eyes now.” His gaze transfixed me, capturing me in green depths from which I’d never return. “Raise your arms.”
Later, I might question why I did it without hesitation. I brought my arms up and held them high. I didn’t think about disobeying, especially when he dropped to his knees and licked his lips, his gaze on my pussy.
“Spread your legs.”
Holy hell. Sucking in a breath, I widened my stance. He wrapped his arms around my hips, hands clutching my ass, and pulled my pelvis toward his face. But he didn’t put his mouth on me. Not yet. He took his time, languid gaze roaming past belly and breasts before settling on my face.
The sight of Rafe naked and on his knees, dark hair plastered to his forehead and drops of water hanging on his lashes, was the most gorgeous view in existence. Reality was far better than the dream.
Except for the part where he’d kidnapped me.
“What do you want from me?” I whispered, confused because he was being so gentle. He’d shown me nothing but cruel detachment since he’d taken me…until I’d fallen into the river.
A violent tremor raced through me, and that night came rushing back; the freezing water closing over my head, the realization I was going to die. Something else broke through the fog that had blanketed me for the past couple of days. Him. The way he’d reacted, how he’d been furious and punishing but also fearful of losing me.
It dawned on me that my almost drowning had rattled him, and I wondered what it meant.
His gaze held mine, unblinking as water streamed down his face. “I want many things from you, but right now I want to taste you.” He leaned forward, and I thought I’d pass out when his tongue slid between my folds.
“Oh God, Rafe.”
His fingers dug into my ass, and he let out a long groan that vibrated straight to my core. I balled my hands, struggling to keep them raised, and let my head fall back against the tile. My body sang for him, quivered and ached with the mere brush of his lips, the teasing scrape of teeth. My breaths burst out in short gasps, and I closed my eyes and let the water wash over my forehead and cheeks as an orgasm built. I was so close. Two more strokes of his tongue, and my toes would curl. I’d slide to the floor in completion, limbs as fluid as the water beating down on us.
He jerked back and looked up at me, a hard glint in his eyes.
“Don’t stop.” I thrust my hips toward him, a silent plea for him to finish. He rose and held my face, mouth hovering an inch from mine as our eyes locked, and licked the water from his lips.
My jaw slackened, and I felt the spray from the shower misting on my tongue. He was going to kiss me. I was sure of it. “Rafe,” I whispered, aching to taste him. Just once.
He pulled my arms down. “Wrap your hand around me.”
I closed my fingers around his erection, and my palm glided over silky smooth skin. His breath shuddered out with every stroke and mingled with mine in a frenzy of want and need. The air between us grew moist and warm from the steam of the shower.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead falling against mine, “that feels incredible. Keep going.”
Mindlessly, I rubbed him and watched in wonder as he lost himself to my touch. With each groan and sigh that erupted from his beautiful mouth, my own need bloomed out of control.
“I want you so much,” I said.
He let out a growl and stilled my movement. “You’re not getting off.”
If he intended to drive me mad by using my desire for him
as a weapon, then he’d have no problem succeeding.
Rafe had turned into a cruel son of a bitch.
“Get on your knees, sweetheart.” How I hated that endearment coming from his lips. He said it with scorn, made it sound like an insult. Hands gripping my shoulders, he pushed down hard until my knees buckled.
The thought of sucking his cock shouldn’t excite me so much. Shit, I was in big trouble. He was toying with me, making me hot and wet for him, and leaving me with no end in sight.
He angled my head back, his touch somehow gentle despite the iron-like hold he had on me. I opened my mouth, my heart thudding in my ears as he pushed his cock inside.
“Fuck. I haven’t had a woman suck me off in eight years.”
His admission filled me with a sense of power. I’d be the one to bring him pleasure after all this time. I closed my lips around his shaft and peeked up at him, needing the connection, but he avoided eye contact. He tipped forward, palms slamming against the tile, and his chest rose and fell shallowly, biceps rippling, tattoos a dark sheen underneath the water.
He grunted with each thrust, and his essence infused my tongue with the heady taste of him. I wanted him inside me so badly—a desperate need I was certain would destroy me.
You’re not getting off.
Eventually, he was going to fuck me again.
And eventually, I was going to break from frustration.
Holy shit. Her mouth was heaven. Hot, almost too damn hot, and tight around my dick. She took her time with the tip, rolling her tongue in circular motions before licking down the underside. My head dropped against the tile, and my mind shattered, thoughts lost to the roar of the water. I couldn’t look at her, didn’t want her to see how completely unglued I was.
This spitfire of a woman, a woman I had every reason to hate, made me question everything.
Damn, it’d been too fucking long since I’d had a woman on her knees pleasuring me. I tried convincing myself that was the only reason for the intensity in my groin, that it had nothing to do with who was sucking my cock, but that didn’t fly. I thrust my hips forward, needing to go deeper. Faster.