by Angel Payne
His breath heated her lips as he slid his long fingers along the hinge between her hip and inner thigh. He brought his thumb up, rubbing into the valley there, pushing her open a little more for him. Caramba. She almost lost her nerve to press on. Almost.
“So, technically…you can do whatever you want with me…right?”
Nothing changed about him except the aroused tic in his jaw. Mierda, she adored that tic. “Is that what you want, baby girl?”
“I’m the hostage. What I want doesn’t matter…Sir.”
The other side of his jaw gained a tic. She didn’t have time to revel in it, though; Shay swept his hips between hers with such stunning speed, even her gasp of astonishment was submerged beneath the harsh grunt of his command. Maybe three seconds had passed but she treasured each one, knowing he’d understood her emphasis on his title with the crystal insight he had into her needs, her desires, her soul.
She’d given him one word but meant so many more. With her raised eyes and soft smile, she added an underline to all of them, too.
Take me.
Fill me.
Dominate me.
Please.
Chapter Eleven
With his heartbeat filling his throat and his blood swelling his cock, Shay slammed a finger to the comm piece at his ear, sending an exclusive hail to Justine’s nurse station. As he’d hoped, the woman picked up instantly. As he also hoped, her game show hostess voice seemed a little forced. Things must have been getting intense on Dance Moms.
“Good day, Shane. What can I do for you?”
“Lock the door and turn off Miss Chestain’s monitors. I’ll take responsibility for her condition now.”
“Oh! Is she awake?”
“Those were orders, Justine, not requests. Do it.”
“Of course.” Her voice resonated with comprehension. He allowed himself a beat of relief. While Justine’s devotion to Stock tiptoed down the path of fanaticism, the woman couldn’t be totally blind to the kind of pigs he hired. One of them wanting a quick “sample” of a hot little hostage should have barely lifted her brows. In the end, it didn’t. The nurse clicked off the comm with businesslike speed.
Shay jerked the line free from his ear then tossed it to the mattress behind him. With his other hand, he snatched the monitors off Zoe’s fingers but stopped her from pulling the line free from her IV tube.
“Leave it in,” he commanded. “I need you good and hydrated, baby girl.”
Warmth suffused him at the upturn of her exotic lips—and yeah, about a hundred pounds more pressure to his dick—but in that moment, she gave him more. So much more. For the first time in six months, he was free of every mask he’d had to wear, pretense he’d had to erect, and lie he’d had to tell. The step was surreal, a moment he’d often lost hope of ever experiencing. It washed him in pure euphoria. And terror.
Zoe, noticing every moment of that conflict on his face, pulled him down again. “And I need you to keep being honest with me,” she murmured. “So out with it.” Hastily she amended, “Please. Sir…out with it.”
He wasn’t immune to the insecurity still flashing in her eyes. There she went again, trying to take accountability for an issue that wasn’t hers.
He pressed a long kiss to the sumptuous flower of her lips before pushing her legs apart with his knees. “You’re still the hostage, baby girl—but I’m not still your abductor.”
She bit her bottom lip, adorably somber. “I’m not sure I—”
“I’m not Shane Burnett.” The bark was harsher than he intended. He nipped at her nose as a softening measure. “With you, I can’t ever be him again. Do you understand that?”
Her head tilted. “The only differences I see between you and ‘Shane’ are a nice suit, a designer wallet and a cell phone that wouldn’t leave you alone last night. Gucci and Prada are just window dressing to me, and your cell is probably Stock’s, which sure as hell doesn’t make it important to me. So what’s your problem, Bommer?”
He almost laughed. Her clarity astounded him, Humbled him. And he wished he could take it as the complete truth, too. “My beautiful little dancer,” he murmured, “there’s a significant difference…you didn’t quite catch.”
He filled the pause in his assertion by fitting the bulging ridge of his body against the perfect triangle of hers. Zoe gasped, her gaze widening and her torso arching, giving him a perfect eyeful of her sweet breasts. “Ohhh,” she moaned. “That.”
“Uh-uh.” The denial was hell to get out. Every corner of his mouth was poised to give her a groaning uh-huh, instead. “That’s not the difference I’m talking about.”
“Ay Dios mios,” she mewled. “It’s—it’s not?”
Dammit. The woman continued her little undulations like she was a cloud and his chest her sky. Shay didn’t fault her—their attraction felt as futile to resist as the tides or the wind—but her motions incited him to react with the ferocity of those forces. Driven by a gust of heated lust, he shoved at hem of her T-shirt until her bra was exposed. The contrast of the cream lace against her copper skin incinerated his control. He shoved back both cups, revealing the perfect mahogany discs that gave rise to erect dark brown tips.
“Difference number one.” He paused long enough to open his mouth against one firm swell, soaking her nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Shay isn’t a goddamn gentleman like Shane. Not when it comes to your beautiful tits.”
“Ohhhh.” It was the only sound she gave as he shifted to her other breast, until he couldn’t resist dragging the tip out with the force of his teeth. Her moan lifted into a scream. Her hands, roaming under his shirt, turned into claws that scored both sides of his spine.
“Difference number two,” he snarled, scratching his own fingernails up beneath what was left of her shirt, to both sides of her jaw, where he dug his fingers in deep. “I love hearing these lips scream, and I don’t care who hears you. I love being the one who’s made you sound that way.”
Her eyes, wide and wild and stormy, dilated beneath his scrutiny. Frantic air sliced from her lungs as her hips still surged for him, her thighs locked on his. Her body was a full tempest, begging for more of his control. Shay absorbed every moment with the same primitive pleasure, letting the storm in him escalate, using the heady force of the power she offered. Her mind, her body, her will…fuck, she didn’t hold back. Her spirit was a hurricane, blasting in with merciless gusts and ruthless rain, and he accepted it all with open gratitude. She was his storm and he was her god, about to give her energy back with a thousand times more passion and life than where she’d started. He couldn’t wait to watch.
“Yes,” she rasped as he pressed her harder into the bed, shifting his mouth to her neck, suckling with his teeth and tongue.
“You like this?” he growled into her ear before biting into its soft, delicious curve.
“Ohhh,” she moaned. “Yesssss.”
“And this?” He shoved a hand against her scalp and yanked hard on her thick, silky strands.
“Damn.” The column of her neck undulated as she swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”
“And you liked the way Shane did all of this last night, too? And the way he fucked you afterward?”
“Yes, yes!”
He rammed his mouth over hers. Claimed her brutally. Filled her ferociously. When he broke off the kiss, he pulled her head back down with just as much force, still restricting her gaze solely to him.
“Difference number three,” he uttered into the thick air between them. “Shane fucked you like a pussy.”
Her eyes flared like crushed cobalt infused with diamonds. “Oh, God. Holy shit.”
He twisted out a feral grin. “Save the prayers, baby girl. You’re going to need them more in a few minutes.”
A long whimper slid out of her, along with a frantic nod, as he released the fastenings on her jeans. Her expression crunched into confusion as he rolled off the bed. It expanded to a full gape as he flipped her over, then was lost to him as he worked on
removing the pants with a couple of vicious yanks. He could guess, though. Her aroused little grunts conveyed novels to him—and they all hinted at very happy endings.
Her desire was his new vortex, flipping back more latches on the storm doors of his composure. Fuck, it felt great. There was so much inside him that hadn’t been out to play in a long time. His chest pumped. His muscles surged. His focus funneled in tighter on his precious subbie. Tighter…
Good-bye, humanity. Hello, Sir Shay. The animal inside clawed at his blood, pounded into his cock, vibrated in every breath. It also growled up his throat as he watched his near-naked hostage, her hands kneading the mattress, her sighs punching the air, and her thighs starting to part, giving him glimpses of her dark pink pussy lips. Her wet, glistening readiness…
He was well aware that they didn’t have a lot of time, but he took an extra second to let her shiver through his scrutinizing silence. After she’d endured a few more seconds of that tension, he paced to the area near her head. Checked the security of her IV line. Then pushed the hair away from her face.
“Open your eyes, tiny dancer.” Damn. Even in that simple act, she performed with exotic elegance. “Beautiful,” he praised. “Now look up at me.” When she obeyed, lashes so thick, irises so bright, and ruby bow lips parted just a little, he exhaled hard. She was five thousand kinds of breathtaking, a perfect wet dream. He almost wondered if he was asleep. His dick provided the answer to that. If this was a dream, he would’ve lost it and orgasmed already. “Red still means red,” he ordered in a dark rumble.
She tossed him that perplexed pout again. “You don’t get it, do you? Hostages don’t get—”
“Hell.” He snatched up a roll of gauze bandaging off the nursing tray and unfurled a length before fitting it between her teeth and yanking hard. After wrapping the white shit a few times around her head, he tore it off and knotted it over one of her ears. She winced when some of her hair got tangled in the tie but the thickened lust in her gaze was also unmistakable. “Your safe word is now crossed fingers, hostage. But you’d better fucking mean it, baby, because now you’ve gotten me extra torqued. Now nod and tell me you understand.”
She complied in less than a second. Shay grunted, proud of himself for his handiwork. The gag was sexy as fuck, adding fire into his certainty to possess her again. At the same time, she wasn’t just giving in to the meek captive thing. Her backtalk had been a massive turn-on. Now, her eyes had acquired amethyst glints that she flashed in alternating messages of fuck you and ohhhh, shit. So damn gorgeous. Dark blue was rapidly becoming his favorite color.
“Good girl,” he murmured. Christ how he wanted to keep pacing around this table, playing with her mind and her body and anything else about her he could get his fingers on and his cock inside, but time was a goddamn monkey on his back. Soon, Wyst would have that extra wing open, and he’d have to jump back to being Shane again, back to what he really came here for—though with every passing minute in this room, Zoe felt more a part of that reason, too.
She squirmed a little, increasing the awareness that he’d let another silence slip by. “Be still,” he ordered quietly. “You’re my toy now, and that includes the call on every move you make.”
She nodded then lowered her head back to the mattress. The move placed her eyes on the same level as his cock, a fact she certainly didn’t miss, judging from her dilated pupils and rapid-fire breathing. It sure as fuck wasn’t lost on him. She was the portrait of dreams he’d long ago written off as pure fantasy, the plaything he’d stopped putting on the Christmas list. He’d resigned himself to getting socks and lame sweaters for the rest of his days…
No more sweaters now. Unless he could dress her in them. Then slowly unwrap her out of them.
He groaned as his cock threatened to cut its own way from his pants.
Zoe’s fingers curled into the mattress while he pulled at his fly, slicing the air with the grate of his zipper. She writhed as he produced a condom from his front pocket at the same time, then placed it in front of her face. He decided the move could be her free pass. Inside, he almost thanked her for it. Her near-nude beauty distracted him from thinking about the moment Bash had forced the rubber into his hand as they’d loaded Zoe onto the stretcher after landing, joking that Shay should make the most of using his “private dancer.” Shay had almost given the thing back to Bash by ramming it down the guy’s throat. He was damn glad he hadn’t.
As he parted his fly, Zoe bit slowly into the gauze. When he pulled out his erection, she released a full moan. Shay was tempted to respond in kind, but only grunted.
He repeated the sound as a crystal drop formed in the valley atop his cock. He let it stay there, shimmering inches from her eyes, as he stroked himself from balls to crown with a tight fist. He didn’t say a word, knowing her eyes took in every piece of information she needed to know by staring at the force in his hand and the growth of his stalk.
He was going to fill her without liberation. Fuck her without relief. Claim her in every hard, ruthless way he could.
After she watched him like that for a minute, her buttocks constricted. She trembled, clearly trying to stop herself, but sobbed when Shay stopped her with a sharp spank across both her cheeks. “Naughty girl. Trying to get yourself off by rubbing the mattress like a kitty in heat?”
“I—I—shaw-wee.” Her voice was filled with lusty desperation.
Shay dipped his hand between her ass cheeks, his fingers slicking into tight, wet warmth. “You are a wicked pussy,” he purred. “A sweet, sopping little hostage who’s ready to be fucked.”
“Yesh,” she mumbled as he spread her sex wide and stroked her erect clit. “Ohhhh…yessshhh!”
“Hush.” He pulled his hand out, joining it with his other to lift her hips high. When her ass was thrust high at him, he wound his hand back against her pussy. He stroked her twice, then smacked her once. A stunned keen tumbled off of Zoe’s lips. When he repeated the treatment, she cried louder. “Much better,” Shay praised. “Forget the words, sweet girl. Your only purpose is to scream.”
“Mmmmm.” Though her tone was threaded with pain, her beautiful cunt sent a steady stream of arousal over his fingers. She turned even wetter after he swatted her again. And shrieked even louder. “Oh. Ohhhhh. Owwww!”
Shay leaned close, pressing his body over her, dragging the hair away from her eyes. She stared back up him, looking as untamed and exhilarated and turned-on as he felt.
Then for an instant, just an instant, she kicked up one side of her mouth at him.
The look was so sublime, Shay couldn’t help but grin back before dipping his head and sinking his teeth into the back of her neck. He licked away the burn before crooning, “You want more, don’t you?”
He held his breath in anticipation of her response. His breathtaking she-cat didn’t disappoint him.
No little nod of sweet acquiescence. Or another awkward mumble. The woman let a stunning snarl prowl through her body, joining to the shove she gave with her shoulders and the buck she attempted with her hips. Attempted. Shay was ready for her struggle now. He easily braced her thighs, stilling them with steely grips. If that weren’t enough, he rolled a hand back over her sex and once more started to massage her tender tissues with steady intent.
Zoe froze. It made him smile a little. The woman was amazing, already conditioning her reaction based on what she thought he’d do. He really hadn’t been planning on following a pattern, but thinking of swatting her pussy again was now a temptation filled with psychological fun on top of the physical.
Beneath his swirling touch, her clit trembled. Her lips erupted in an agonized moan.
“Don’t you want what’s coming next, my hot hostage?”
She swung her head from side to side. “Uh-uh,” she grunted around the gag.
“You don’t want me to spank your pussy?”
“Yesh. No,” she gasped. “Pwease donnnn’t!”
“But it makes your cunt so wet, Zoe. It makes
you shake so hard for me.”
“Pwease. No. Owwww!” Her cry coincided with the audible smack he made to her mound this time. She wiggled and dug her toes into the mattress, struggling to push free. Like that was going to work. With one hip still captive in his ruthless hold, he shoved two fingers between the dark honey perfection of her ass cheeks. Without stopping, he plunged them into her deepest tunnel.
“You’re dripping again, Zoe. Soaking me with the cream from your hot, tight body. And I can see your tits, hanging over the mattress like darts. They’re sharp, erect and aroused.” He pulled out his fingers to loom forward again, kissing the valley between her shoulder blades “Your shoulders are trembling. Your skin is gleaming. My sweet little hostage, your lips can try stories with me but your body says much different things.”
“Unnnhhh. Mmmmm!” She forced the sounds past the gauze as he reached between her legs from the front, locating the hottest petal of her open flower. Her clit shivered beneath his touch, and her delicious moan erupted into a needy scream. Her gaze, though shielded beneath heavy-hooded lids, followed his hand through every inch of the sweep he made to retrieve the condom. Once he tore into the wrapper and sheathed up, her eyes slammed shut and her breathing doubled.
“Wider.” He repositioned his legs between hers then spread her according to his dictate. Pressed beneath him, she was a heaven of liquid compliance, quivering heat, and lusty sighs. She softened as he forced her torso flat to the mattress, angling her entrance perfectly for his invasion.
“Good,” he grated into her ear. The roses in her shampoo, the salt in her skin, and the tang of her sex were an ambrosia in his nostrils, filtering straight down to his cock. “Very, very good. You’re so ready for it, aren’t you, little prisoner?”
She gave him the answer already. From the second he guided his rigid length between her legs and was welcomed by her pussy’s greedy lips, he was certain the rough foreplay had flipped every switch of desire in her breathtaking body. She quivered and pulsed and sweated and writhed, all but begging him aloud for his ruthless discipline.