"So if I'm not your whore I have to stay in the cellar?
You're going to keep me here for sex?"
He saw the hurt in her eyes and realized he had been concentrating way too much on just fulfilling the urge to fuck her. He looked at her tear streaked face, knowing he could very easily fall in love with this girl, in some way he already was. It stunned him how he just knew that.
He had never really been in love in his entire life, and he was an even harder man for a woman to love. He liked rough sex, rougher than most women tolerated. He liked smacking ass and fucking hard, sex was all about what he wanted, to hell with how the woman felt.
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He cared how this one felt. He wished she wasn't so scared of him.
"You'll love being my whore, Mayree," he teased.
Her eyes narrowed. "You wanted to kill me, I should have just let you," she exclaimed angrily.
"No. I didn't want to kill you. I am not a murderer."
"No? I guess you'd rather be a rapist," she said sarcastically. "That's what…"
She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence. He leaned forward, lifted her wrists over her head, shoved her back and threw himself over her. He didn't crush her, but he wanted her fully aware that she was completely helpless beneath his much greater size and strength. She struggled a bit beneath him before she was still.
"If I was a rapist wouldn't I fuck you right now, right here on this floor?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Well you're ready if you want to, aren't you?"
He realized then his erection was pressed tight against her thighs. "I couldn't lie with you beneath me like this and not be hard, if that's what you mean. I want you so fucking much. That doesn't mean I'll force you. This isn't all about sex." Letting go of her wrists, he pulled himself off her.
"You have no right to keep me here," she said, as she sat up.
"You told me you wanted me to. It was your idea!
Remember? You're the one who said you'd do anything."
She lowered her head.
"We'll see later just how willing you are to do anything,"
Quinn said.
Her eyes flashed, "I hate you."
Damn, she was even prettier when she was mad.
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"I already know different, Mayree, you don't hate me, you want me. Don't worry, you'll have me. You'll have me a lot."
She turned her back to him.
Quinn stood slowly. Mayree Jacobs was going to change everything, one way or another. His life was going to change and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it from happening. He wouldn't stop it if he could.
"I'm sorry I have to leave you down here now, Mayree, but I need to say goodbye to Jack now." He swallowed the lump in his throat, as he turned and walked out of the root cellar.
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CHAPTER 3
Mayree sat with her back to the cold wall, dirty, sore and freezing. She wondered if Quinn would let her take a shower when he came and took her out of here. Tears pooled in her eyes, she wanted to get out of this cold room. She hated being down here. Maybe he would change his mind and let her go. Despite what she had originally thought, she knew now he wasn't going to hurt her.
He had sat there with his brother and they debated who got to have her like she wasn't even there. She knew she didn't want Randy, but the feelings she had for Quinn frightened her. What normal woman would be attracted to someone who had done what he'd done? Yet, she was, and she was sure that beneath his gruff exterior there was a tiny measure of kindness.
He had made it clear what he wanted from her, what was expected of her if she wanted to stay anywhere but in this room. Stay with him, in his bed. What would that be like? "I won't even consider it!" she said out loud. The words echoed in the dank room as she tried to think of anything except what it would be like to sleep with him.
She should be planning an escape, not thinking about Quinn.
But there was no way she could stop thinking about the way he made her feel. A breathless awe filled her whenever she looked at him. If she would have seen him in the real world, before this all had happened, there was no doubt she would have felt the same way. Nothing about him was flawed. He was absolute beauty in rough masculine form. He was perfect.
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She knew how to make herself have an orgasm. It was nothing like what he had done to her. Nothing had ever felt like that.
Damn him! He was such a hateful man, and she was so mad at herself for being attracted to him. He terrified her, but she wanted him more than she could ever remember wanting anything. She actually felt like he wanted her. When he looked at her she was sure she saw need and desire. It surprised her. She had never felt desirable. After every diet under the sun, she still felt fat. In high school she'd never even gone on a date – no one ever asked her.
High school had been hellish. All she'd known her whole life was home-schooling with Grandma. When her grandmother died, Mayree was suddenly thrust into a public school. It was an adjustment she couldn't make.
Her intense shyness made it even harder. It was impossible to make friends. Miserable and unhappily, she had barely managed to endure school until she graduated.
She didn't think about dating. Men didn't notice her, especially men who looked like Quinn. Even in her dreams the men were nothing compared to Quinn.
She'd never been kissed before. When Quinn kissed her it made her feel a strange tingly warmth.
Quinn looked at her like she was pretty. A man who looked like him should have no reason to be attracted to her. She closed her eyes, thinking of him kneeling in front of her, his head between her thighs. Oh, god it had felt so good when he put his mouth on her.
Well, despite all that, here she was locked in a damn cellar again. She certainly was not going to climb willingly into bed with a man who threw her in a trunk and wanted to shoot her. He could give her that wanting look a million more times but she was never, under any 49
circumstances going to kiss that bastard again. She was getting out of here, one way or another.
There was a scraping sound as the screwdriver was pulled from the hasp outside the door, and it opened.
Quinn loomed in the doorway, his eyes were dry, but they were red and swollen and she knew he'd been crying.
Jack. Quinn and Randy had buried beautiful Jack.
How hard that must have been. Despite her own feelings, she felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for the big man in front of her. That asshole didn't deserve sympathy, she tried to tell herself.
The problem was, she understood why he had brought her here. He hadn't done it out of hate or malice. He'd done it out of love for his little brother. The boy had died right in front of him! Quinn's eyes were filled with such tortured pain it was impossible not to feel sympathy for him.
"Are you hungry, Mayree?" His voice was low, and extremely kind.
Her stomach growled at the mere mention of food, but she didn't want to speak to him. She lowered her head and looked at the floor, maybe she should say something.
What if he just closed the door and left? She'd still be hungry, cold, and locked in this room.
Forcing herself, she lifted her head and looked at him.
"Yes, I'm hungry."
"Come on upstairs," he said and she felt his eyes on her as she stood. He stood in the doorway as she approached him, he was freshly showered. She could smell his spicy soap. His white t-shirt was tight, clinging to his broad chest. The white was a stark contrast to the beautiful cinnamon tan of his skin.
Everything about him was beautiful. This would be so much easier if he was ugly then she could hate him. He 50
was too handsome to be real, more like a god than a man.
She glanced at his thick, muscular arms. One of them was tattooed with the name, "Donna," inside a heart.
Mayree wondered who Donna was, and how she had died. Quinn had said to Randy that he hadn't had a woman since Donna died. It seemed that, like Mayree, Quinn hadn't had a very happy life.
Strange scars dotted his inner forearms. They were unlike any scars she had ever seen before. Small and round, there were many of them. They were faded from age, but still were visible.
He stood blocking the doorway for a moment, looking down at her intently. "I'm sorry I left you down here so long. I just… It took me a while to get myself together."
Mayree could smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath. Finally he moved aside and let her pass. She could feel his eyes on her as he followed her up the stairs.
There was a plate on the kitchen table, the smell of pizza made her mouth water. Quinn gestured to the table. "I made you a plate. It's just frozen pizza. I don't cook so I hope you do."
"I can cook," she said.
"Good, cause I like to eat. It'll be nice having you cook for me." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Will you?"
"You have any rat poison here?" she said sarcastically as she sat at the table.
"You're so mean to me. First you told me you hated me, now you want to poison me? Maybe by tomorrow morning you'll like me a little better and fix me a nice breakfast?" His voice was kind and teasing, but his face was still dark and creased with sorrow.
She shrugged, and tried to look expressionless. "I guess it depends on how sore I am from sleeping in the cellar."
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Quinn smiled, and ran his hand slowly over the stubble on his jaw. "You probably will be sore, but it won't be from being in the cellar."
"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked nervously, trying to change the subject.
"I'm not hungry. It's been a bad day for me."
What kind of day did he think she was having? She picked up a slice of pizza and tasted it. It was like any other frozen pizza, bland and tasteless, but as hungry as she was it was delicious.
He sat across from her, and stared at the table. He didn't look at her at all as she ate. He opened a can of beer and propped his feet up on the other chair, as she was finishing her food.
"Randy left this afternoon," he said finally. I hope he stays in Florida all winter. It will give us time alone to get to know each other." He linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the chair.
Mayree didn't know how to respond to that. She sat quietly, thinking of being alone here with Quinn, possibly for months. Her eyes were drawn back to the scars on his arms.
"Did you have enough to eat?" Quinn asked.
"Yes."
"Are you sure? There's more. Do you want something to drink?"
"Yes, please? Water will be fine," she replied, thinking how he was acting like this was a damn dinner party, and she was his guest.
He got up and she heard a pop as he opened a can.
"Have a beer, Mayree."
"I don't drink," she said, wondering why he laughed as she said it.
"Well now's probably a good time to start. I'm sure you could use one after what's happened to you."
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Forcing politeness she said, "Thank you. I was so hungry, I didn't eat yesterday." She picked up the can and took a sip. The taste was not pleasant at all. Her overwhelming thirst and dry mouth made her force down a few more swallows.
"Then you spent the fucking night locked in the cellar.
Jesus, I'm so sorry, Mayree, I honestly forgot you were even down there, I couldn't think about anything but Jack." His voice cracked, but he didn't cry, she suspected he worked very hard not to cry in front of anyone, he seemed that type of man. He wore a pained expression on his face. "Listen, Mayree, I didn't mean for any of this shit to happen. I really didn't. I thought you were a nurse. I thought just maybe ... somehow ... Jack could be saved."
She could feel the weight of his sadness, the intensity of his grief. There was no reason she should care how he felt, but she did, she cared very deeply. The poor man's heart was broken. She wished for a moment she could say something, or do something to make him happy.
Hesitantly she stood and walked to him. She laid her hand on his shoulder. His muscles rippled beneath her fingers. He seemed genuinely surprised that she touched him.
"I'm so sorry about Jack," she said, hoping he could feel she really meant it.
Quinn wrapped his arms around her waist, and laid his head against her. "I know you are. You're the sweetest person I've ever met."
The heat from the side of his face warmed her stomach.
"Jack was special. My mom died when he was a baby.
Me, my dad and my brother all tried our best to look after him." Quinn's voice sounded strained. "I guess Dad did most of the work. I was in jail a lot of the time. Randy was too."
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"Where is your Dad?" she asked, stroking his silky black hair. While she had been hesitant about touching him at first, nothing about it felt wrong.
"He died about four years ago." He paused, "What about you, Mayree? Where is your family?"
She considered telling him she had a huge family that was going to miss her, worry about her, look for her. "I don't have any family. Well, I guess I do, but I never even met my dad, and Mom left me with her parents when I was about four. My grandparents raised me. They're both gone now."
"So you were all by yourself? Did you have a boyfriend?"
"No," she replied, wondering why he asked.
"You're too pretty not to have a boyfriend," he said softly.
She felt her face flush. It was difficult to accept his compliments, even though he sounded quite sincere.
Compliments were something reserved for women like Penny at the hospital, tall, willowy blondes. They weren't meant for chubby brunettes. She forgot she was mad at him then and she ran her hand softly across his jaw.
"I've never had a boyfriend," she admitted.
He looked up at her, his eyes locked intently onto hers.
She could feel his large hand on her thigh. He rubbed it meaningfully, moving toward her inner thigh, his fingertips brushing the crotch of her pants.
"You have a boyfriend now," he said bluntly. "Actually you have a man now," he added.
A shiver flew through her, as he put his other hand on the opposite thigh and pushed her legs open just a bit wider. His hand rubbed between her legs and she felt a warm flush all over her body. She forgot where she was for a moment, as he rubbed her until her wetness seeped through her panties and thin scrub pants.
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"You're so wet for me," he said, with a little laugh.
She cringed with embarrassment, and pulled away.
Picking up the can of beer from the table she took several big gulps. It didn't taste as bad now.
"Quinn, can I please get a shower? I'm dirty and so cold." She was very afraid of the things he was making her feel. She told herself to be resistant to him, but he made it impossible.
He stood and went to the counter and picked up a length of chain. "I thought of this earlier, because of how shy you were about me being in the bathroom with you.
I'll find something to hook this to, that way you can have some privacy."
Mayree looked at the chain in disgust. "You're going to chain me up like a dog?"
"I'll only chain you up when I can't keep an eye on you," Quinn replied. He looked at her and smiled, "And at night, while I'm asleep, unless of course you're downstairs in the cellar."
Mayree remembered then what he'd said about sleeping with him or sleeping in the cellar. "I guess you won't have to chain me at night then," she snapped.
Quinn cocked his eyebrow, "So, I am that ugly you would rather be cold and alone than lie in my bed with me, warm in my arms?" He laid the chain on the counter, staring at her.
Mayree stared back at him, trying to think of something smart to say. Finally she gave up. "No, you aren't ugly." The thought of lying in his arms made her feel an aching warmth deep in her belly.
"Do you hate me so much for bringing you here that you won't lie beside me?"
"I don't even know you. I don't hate you," she replied.
"You're going to know me," he said confidently. "You're going
to know me like you have never known any man."
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He moved toward her, and her heart hammered. She realized her reaction wasn't fear, it was anticipation. She knew he was going to touch her, and shamelessly she wanted him to. His arms were tight around her, his mouth pressed softly against her forehead.
"You won't sleep in the cellar, will you, Mayree?"
Her body wanted to melt into his. "Yes, I will," she said, knowing damn well she was lying.
"Your pants are wet from wanting me so much," he said huskily in her ear.
Damn him. She looked up at him and he was smiling so smugly. Her eyes were riveted to his lips. Those lips were capable of making her feel so much pleasure. She wished he'd kiss her again right now.
"You can't sleep in the cellar tonight my pretty, Mayree," he said softly, stroking her hair.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because if you did I'd have to come down there to give you what you want. I'd rather we are comfortable in my bed and not on a dirt floor, when I lick you. His lips grazed her ear, "When I fuck you."
Her legs went weak just hearing him say that and she held onto him, afraid she'd fall otherwise.
"Please, can I get a shower now?" she asked, forcing herself to pull away. Her face was hot and flushed.
Quinn picked up the chain and they walked in silence to the bathroom. He wrapped one end of the chain around her ankle and snapped it with a lock, then did the same with the other, wrapping it around the base of the toilet. He brought her a shirt, a towel, and left the room.
Mayree began undressing and only then realized she wasn't going to be able to get her pants and panties off with the chain around her ankle.
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She opened the door. Her top was already off, leaving only her sheer lace bra covering her breasts.
"Quinn?" she called nervously down the hall.
He came out of one of the rooms, and she could already feel herself shaking.
Stolen Property: The Abduction of Mayree Jacobs Page 5