Jake sat up, yawning and leaning his head back against the wall behind the bed. “You talk like someone who knows Señor Villacruz well.”
I joined him, tucking my knees up under my chin. “I’ve known Ricky a long time.”
“You mean he’s a long-standing client?”
“No.” I turned my head, studying his face the same way he had done to me a few minutes ago. Wondering how much to tell him. “We grew up together.”
He raised a brow at me. “I thought you were American.”
“Naturalized. I was born in Ecuador. I was eight when my parents died. My mother was American and I was adopted by her sister, who lived in California.”
His expression was hard to read. I thought there might be sympathy in there and wondered why. Why would a man who was holding me prisoner care what my childhood had been like? That look in his eyes reminded me of feelings I’d rather forget. Of the agony of losing my parents in that car crash, followed by the pain of leaving behind everything I knew. Of starting a new life in a place that was so totally different it might as well have been another planet. Of never again feeling at home.
“That must have been hard.” I wasn’t imagining the compassion in his voice. It made me close my eyes briefly. “So what is Villacruz? Client or boyfriend?”
My lip curled as I thought of Ricky. I conjured up an image of the man who had grown up in the same affluent neighborhood in Quito where I’d lived with my parents. When I went back to visit my family, he was always there. Handsome, dashing, wealthy. Even now, in my mind’s eye, I could feel the impact of those flashing dark eyes on my body. Ricky Villacruz had always made it clear that he intended to have me. By the time I knew what a bastard he really was, his hold over me was too great to break.
“It’s strictly business.” I studied my fingernails. “Though I’m not sure Ricky knows that.”
“What does that mean?”
I sighed. “It means he views me as his property.”
Jake’s eyes probed my face. “And are you?”
I thought of Ricky’s dark eyes, his cruel, probing hands, those lips that enjoyed my disgust as they lingered over every inch of my body. The shudder that passed through me shook me from head to foot. “Never.”
“Then tell me where to find him and you don’t have to see him again.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Jake’s voice was soft. Persuasive. He was learning fast.
“Because Ricky Villacruz is my son’s father.”
Chapter Eight
Inge
Jake said he was going to get provisions. I suspected he had gone to make a call, to share the information I had given him about Ricky with whoever was in charge of this venture. He had told me he couldn’t get a cell phone signal anywhere near the bunker. Although I was back to being alone here in my underground chamber, I was glad of the solitude. I needed time to think.
By telling Jake about Niko I had been acting on another impulse. I was relying on my instincts, fighting for my life. My intuition told me Jake was essentially a decent, if damaged, human being. The thought almost made me laugh out loud. The man abducted you, has you locked up, almost raped you...yet you think deep down he’s a stand-up guy? I drew a calming breath. I do. And, let’s face it, that belief is all I’ve got.
I reasoned that I had given Jake very little. The Seduction Squad paid well and I used my money to keep my private life hidden. Niko was safe, so all Jake really knew about him was that he existed. He wouldn’t be able to find him. I had dropped this new bombshell deliberately, hoping Jake would see me in a different light as a result. Although I didn’t imagine he would be so overcome with compassion that he would release me, I hoped to chip away a little more at that tough exterior and maybe just throw him further off balance.
My whole body relaxed with love whenever I thought of my son. At almost three, Niko was used to his mama going away. Even so, he would be missing me. My heart clenched at the thought. His devoted nanny, Lola, could be relied on to give him lots of hugs and attention. I have to get out of here, get back to him. Without giving Ricky any reason to harm him. Ricky Villacruz was a vicious, manipulative bully. The only good thing he had ever done in his life was give me Niko. But Ricky used our son as a hold over me at every opportunity. Since Niko’s birth, there had always been a subtle undercurrent to our encounters. Give me what I want, or I will show you exactly what I am capable of. I’d never been tempted to find out what that threat meant. The stark reality was that Ricky wouldn’t hesitate to harm Niko. He had never seen our son—and that suited me just fine—but the message was clear. If I didn’t do exactly what Ricky wanted, Niko’s safety would be the price I paid. My choice was stark and unpleasant. I knew what Ricky would do. Jake was the unknown. It was Jake on whom I was gambling.
The tiny flare of hope that Jake might be planning to rid the world of Ricky Villacruz once and for all had quickly died. Ricky was famed for living a charmed life. He paid a great deal of money for that charm, surrounding himself with bodyguards and living in a palatial mansion that resembled an armed fortress. Jake would be dead before he got within a hundred yards of Ecuador’s most successful drug baron. Ricky was fond of boasting about how the bodies of his enemies found their way to the bottom of the Guayllabamba River. Anyone who didn’t know Ricky might have assumed it was all talk and swagger...anyone who hadn’t been there and seen how his operation worked. And if Jake did get close enough to make an attempt on Ricky’s life? I couldn’t rely on Ricky not discovering the source of Jake’s information.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door being unlocked. I braced myself. If Jake’s superiors had decided my closer relationship to Ricky made me a liability, I could be staring down the barrel of a gun when that door opened.
Instead, I was confronted by the sight of Jake cradling his blood-soaked right hand to his chest. His expression was rueful. “I dropped a jar. Cut my hand as I was picking up the pieces of glass.”
I went to him, examining the slashes that crisscrossed his palm. “Come into the bathroom.”
Turning on the faucet, I held his hand under the cold water. Using a hand towel, I dried his palm. Blood welled immediately between the torn edges of the flesh once more and I wrapped the towel around his hand. “There doesn’t seem to be any glass in the cuts. Do you have any antiseptic swabs and Band-Aid?”
“In the kitchen.” He made a move toward the door.
“I’ll go. Keep that hand elevated to stop the bleeding.”
As I left the bathroom, I made a heart-thudding discovery. There was a rusty ladder attached to the rocky wall, at the top of which was a trap door from the bunker to the outside world. That trap door was open. Did Jake know? I didn’t dare risk a glance over my shoulder in the direction of the bathroom to find out. I couldn’t waste this chance. Swift and silent, scared to breathe, I climbed up the ladder, out of the bunker and into the blinding sunlight.
Everything looked so normal. A car, a Mercedes saloon, was parked on a gravel lot just outside the door. Beyond it, just as I’d expected, was dense forest. Deciding against the car—what are the chances of finding the keys in the ignition?—I made for the trees. Surely, I would be able to hide from him there? I broke into a run, my bare feet skidding painfully on the gravel, just as Jake dashed out of the bunker behind me. His shout echoed in my ears. Too close. My burst of energy gave way to a feeling of despair as I heard him narrow the distance between us.
He caught up with me as I drew level with the car, slamming me up against the vehicle. The air left my body in a single whoosh. Forcing the side of my face hard into the metal, he dug his bloodied fingers into my neck. I could feel fury in the heat of his body, in his hot breath on my cheek.
“Nice try, but you aren’t going anywhere.”
Fighting him was like struggling aga
inst an iron statue. Clawing and scratching at his hand was useless. It only made him increase the pressure on my windpipe. Dark spots danced before my eyes. I was wedged between two immovable objects, although, of the two, Jake seemed less flexible than the car. Releasing my throat, Jake caught my hands, pinning my wrists behind me. The cuts he had just sustained didn’t seem to affect his ability to use his hand. Now he had subdued me, I expected him to march me back into the bunker. Too late, I realized that the force of his frenzy had changed focus.
As he pushed his body into mine, I could feel his rock-hard erection pushing into the small of my back. He hooked his fingers into the elastic at my waist. Reading his intention as he pulled my sweatpants down, my struggles increased. I threw my head back, trying to scream at him to stop. Because of the damage to my throat, it came out as a choked gurgle. Blood suffused my face, pounding in time with my heart rate, heating my flesh to boiling point.
“That’s it. Fight me.”
I felt him fumbling with his own clothing and tried to push back against him, to push him away. The naked flesh of my buttocks came in contact with his huge cock and this time I did manage a hoarse scream.
“Didn’t you want me to force you?” His voice panted in my ear. “Wasn’t this your idea?”
“Jake—” I tried reasoning with him as I felt him move into position behind me, kicking my legs apart “—wait, I’m not ready...”
My voice tailed off as he shoved his cock into me, smacking me so hard against the car that the wind was knocked out of me. Dazed, I concentrated on finding that next breath, and allowing my body to adapt to what was happening. As he withdrew and rammed back into me, I could feel the pressure building, the resistance of my cunt walls...not wanting him there, fighting him. I felt every inch of him—his bulbous head, every vein and ridge in his shaft—dragging across my tight internal muscles. His balls felt huge as they slapped against my ass, his teeth were sharp on the back of my neck. Jake was a man possessed, pistoning that massive cock in and out of me as one hand reached around to claw at my breasts. I was lifted off the ground by the force of his assault, impaled on him. As he fucked me harder and faster, driving deeper into me with each thrust, my body was mashed against the unforgiving metal of the car.
“How does it feel to get what you wanted?”
When I told him I liked to be forced, I had been testing him. It’s what I do. Find a weakness and exploit it. Something about Jake had told me this was his fantasy. To have a woman in his power and fuck her against her will. How right I was. Too right. Frighteningly, dangerously right. But now something inside me was shifting, responding to the onslaught he was unleashing on me. Maybe I dug too deep inside us both. Found something in myself I thought I’d kept hidden away. Because, as it turns out, I do like to be forced.
Heat began to radiate out from my sensitized cunt through my nerve endings. Instead of fighting him, my body was responding to him. I was melting, getting wet. Wetter than I could ever remember being. He was probably the biggest man I’d ever fucked, but he was no longer having to force his way into me. Sensing the change, Jake lunged farther and harder, slamming his full weight behind each thrust. Each pump caused my hips to bounce against the car, and I began to use that momentum to push back against him. Different this time. Wanting him. Welcoming him. My whole body started to tremble. It was so good it was too good. I was on fire, liquid heat blasting through my veins. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before and I didn’t know if I could stand the intensity of it. I rarely climaxed. I was the queen of the fake orgasm, but the real thing was unusual. I could feel this one building, curling deep inside me, preparing to explode with the same intensity that Jake was pounding into me.
When the orgasm did hit, it was with the force of a freight train. Throwing back my head, I screamed again as my muscles clenched around him. Over and over. My world turned inside out and upside down as my vision grayed out. I was flung into a pulsing whirl of sensation, soaring far beyond the edge of my own control. And still Jake fucked me. On and on, keeping the waves crashing over me. Finally, his cock began to spasm and I felt the hot spurt of his release high inside me as I hung limp and helpless in his grasp.
Slowly the world righted itself. Jake slid his arm around my waist, lifting me so he could ease himself out of my still trembling cunt. I felt him straighten his clothing before he set me on my feet, pulling up the baggy sweatpants. Without a word, he hoisted me into his arms and carried me back into the bunker.
As he placed me down on the bed, his movements were careful and tender. It was a new experience for me. I was a hooker. I rented out my body to men who paid a lot of money for it. Sex was never followed by positive touches.
After the physical bombardment of minutes earlier, Jake’s gentleness unleashed a new torrent of emotions. A strange combination of joy and sadness washed over me. I didn’t want this. Loss of control. Vulnerability. Openness to another person. Not me. Not ever.
As Jake lifted a hand to brush the hair from my face, sharp, unexpected tears stung the back of my eyelids and I turned away from him, curling into a ball so he couldn’t see my weakness.
Chapter Nine
Jake
I took my time resetting the locks, my actions slow and methodical. Had I left that door unlocked deliberately? Staged a situation where Inge could escape so that I could go after her? I shrugged. It didn’t matter. It had happened and it had led to the most earth-shattering moments of my life.
I needed to try to sort my head out before I went back to Inge. Needed to reconcile what had just taken place and the euphoria my body was still experiencing with what my conscience was telling me. The memory of her tightness gripping me sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. The lack of lubricant when I shoved into her had been exquisitely painful. Then that delicious ripple of sensation had gradually given way to warm wet silk engulfing me. It was wrong. That was what my brain was telling me. More. That was what my body was already craving. Demanding.
When I returned to the bedroom, Inge lay curled up on her side. I lay down next to her, but she didn’t turn to look at me. There was blood on her neck and on her sweatshirt and I frowned. Did I do that to her? Then I remembered my cut hand and experienced a feeling of profound relief. When I drew her close to me with an arm over her waist, holding her with her back pressed against my chest, she still didn’t respond. She would. Because there was no way that was a one-off. I was going to need to grind into her again. And again. I had found something in her I needed. She was mine. That was what I had been told. To do with her as I wished. “As long as you end it with a bullet to the head.” No time limit specified.
“I hurt you.” It was a statement, not a question.
She tried to say something, but the only sound that left her lips was a choking noise. I placed a hand on her shoulder and realized she was crying.
“Inge, look at me.”
Slowly she turned to face me. Her stunned expression reflected my own jumbled state of mind back at me. “I don’t cry. Ever. It’s just—” she shook her head as though attempting to clear it “—I’ve never been so turned on. And I have never come so hard, or for so long.”
It was not what I’d expected. “Is this one of your tricks?”
“No. That was fucking amazing.” Through her tears, she gave a strangled laugh. “Or amazing fucking.”
“Don’t joke about it.” My brows drew together. “I forced you.” And I want to do it again. Right now.
“Yes, you forced me. But only after I told you I liked being forced.” She leaned on her elbow, looking down at me. “Everyone has fantasies, Jake.”
I shook my head. She didn’t understand. Even now, she didn’t get it. “That wasn’t a fantasy. It was real.”
“Okay, that time, maybe it was. You were angry because I tried to escape and you acted out what you’ve been wanting to do to me si
nce you first had me locked up in here. But you’re being too hard on yourself.” Despite my frown, she continued, “The difference between you and a real rapist is you keep it inside your head, you don’t wait on dark corners and jump out on unsuspecting women.”
“Does the fact that I’d like to make me fucked up?”
Inge laughed. “If you knew how many sick fantasies I’ve had to listen to—or take part in—you wouldn’t ask that question.”
I couldn’t believe I was lying here on this bed, with this beautiful woman, discussing something I’d kept hidden, even from myself, for my whole adult life. Particularly as I was supposed to be grilling her for information about Ricky Villacruz. “So I have rape fantasies. Shouldn’t I get therapy or something?”
“No, you should find someone to share them with you.”
Was she offering to be part of my fantasies? I supposed I would never know if this was her way of doing what I’d been warned about, if this was Inge trying to fuck her way out of captivity. In that instant, I didn’t care. Those incredible eyes glowed with an intense light, and I let myself bask in their warmth. After all the years I’d spent fearing rejection, her acceptance of me was like a shot of pain relief straight to my heart. For some reason, it felt a lot easier to breathe all of a sudden.
All I knew was I wanted to be inside her again more than I wanted anything else in the world. Even more than I wanted a nod of approval from the commander.
Before I could do anything, Inge placed a hand at the back of my neck and pulled my head down to hers. Did she know, with that uncanny sixth sense of hers, that kissing was something that had been missed completely along my sexual time line? Real kissing. Not the grudging caresses bestowed on me by a weary hooker. This was real kissing. She stroked my lower lip lightly with her tongue before pressing her lips to mine, flirting with me, moving her mouth over mine so lightly it was almost a sigh. When I responded by gripping her hips and drawing her closer, caressing her tongue with my own, Inge leaned back, smiling into my eyes.
Seduction Squad: Captured Page 4