Hunted in the Dark

by Stacia Stone

I’d love to just throw them away but I don’t have anything else to change into. That said, the thought of putting the same nasty clothes is a disgusting thought.

  I turn on the sink faucet and raise the stopper so it starts to fill with water. I add my clothes and a tiny bit of the shampoo. Washing my clothes in the sink won’t really get them clean but it’s better than nothing. Once satisfied that I’ve done the best I can, I squeeze the excess water out of the fabric and lay it all flat across the toilet tank to dry.

  I don’t hear anything beyond the closed bathroom door. I can’t tell if Hunt has come back inside or if he’s still out by the car. But then I wonder if he’s out in the room, being deliberately quiet. Maybe it’s a trap, and he’s waiting to see if I’ll try to get away.

  The shower stutters on when I turn the handle of the faucet. I expected crappy water pressure but I’m still surprised when only a small stream of water trickles out. When I turn the handle all the way to the hot side, the water barely gets lukewarm.

  Still, it’s the first shower I’ve had in almost forty-eight hours so it feels pretty damn good.

  I wash quickly and use the rest of the shampoo on my hair. Bending my neck, I put my head directly underneath the spray. I stand there for a long time even though I know the stain on me won’t ever wash away.

  A loud knock on the door startles me.

  “Hurry the hell up,” Hunt’s voice is muffled by the door, but still clear enough for me to hear the frustration in it.

  He wants me, I can see it in his eyes. Even if he hates my father, even if he hates everything that I represent — he still wants me. I have to take advantage of it. Even if it makes me hate myself.

  This is it, I realize.

  My knees go weak and I slowly collapse to sit on the floor of the tub. Fear and doubt gnaw at the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what I’m doing, but doing nothing isn’t an option.

  I have to save myself.

  I turn the shower off with a loud squeak of the faucet. Two thin towels hang on a bar above the toilet. I use one to make a turban around my soaking wet hair and wrap the other around my body. The towel is so small that the edges barely meet at the front of my body, creating a gap just above the juncture of my thighs.

  It’s now or never.

  I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door.

  Chapter 13

  I hear the door of the bathroom door open, but don’t look up from the burner phone in my hand. There’s a handful of status updates from Frost, nothing important just letting me know that they haven’t run into any trouble. There’s no reason for them to run into trouble. I’m the one carting around the stolen girl.

  “It’s about damn—," I cut myself off as soon as I get a good look at her.

  She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, steam billowing out around her. And she’s not wearing anything except the tiniest towel that I’ve ever seen.

  Water sluices off strands of hair falling from the towel wrapped around her head. Wetness coats her arms and upper chest so she seems to shine faintly under the light. She looks like something out of a dream — Venus rising, or some shit like that.

  Something out of a fantasy.

  A surge of desire burns through me. This must be what it feels like to be tested by God. No matter how much I resolve to do the right thing, he keeps putting temptation so close that I trip right over it.

  “Where are your fucking clothes?”

  Her hands tighten on the edge of the towel, but then she just shrugs. “It’s been like three days and I had to wash them. They need to dry out.”

  Getting her some more clothes just moved to the top of my to-do list. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Do you have something that I can wear?” She looks up at me through a fringe of eyelashes still wet from the shower. “Like a t-shirt, or something.”

  Without another word, I dig in the duffel bag sitting open on the bed and toss her one of the shirts that’s neatly rolled up inside. I still have the habit of folding my shirts into round tubes that are exactly four inches across. It’s a leftover from my military days.

  When she reaches out with one hand to grab the shirt, the towel gapes in the middle exposing a tantalizing line of creamy flesh.

  “Thank you.” Her gaze rises to meet mine and a flash of heat passes between us.

  Manipulative little bitch. I bet she thinks I don’t know exactly what she’s doing. She’s trying to cozy up to me with this schoolgirl seduction act. She is perfectly transparent and I can see right through her.

  But raging desire runs through me at the thought of seeing what’s underneath that towel. Part of me definitely wishes it wasn’t just a ploy. And that part of me is practically standing at attention.

  I know she’s just trying to manipulate me, maybe hoping I’ll get complacent and give her a chance to escape. But that doesn’t mean I’m immune to a reaction. It makes me wonder how far she’s willing to go to manipulate me.

  A terrible idea starts to form in my head, one that’s almost too awful to put into words.

  “I should probably shower, too.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Did you leave any towels for me?”

  A red blush suffuses her features and moves down her chest. “There were only these two.”

  “Hand one over, then.” I hold out my hand with an expectant look.

  Her mouth falls open slightly, but she raises her hands to unwind the towel from her head.

  “Not that one. It’s all wet from your hair.” I shake my head. “Let me have the other one.”

  The look on her face is priceless. “Are you serious?”

  I shrug. “Nothing that I haven’t seen before.”

  She stares at me for a long moment. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. How far is too far?

  Anger and frustration spark in her eyes. She’s not in a good position: scared, confused and always one step behind.

  It’s not like I actually expect her to do it. But part of me likes teasing her and pushing her a little. A much darker part of me wants to make sure she understands that I will always be willing to go further than she wants to go.

  And then she drops the towel.

  Sophia’s body is perfect, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Every piece of her is exactly how I imagined it, or better.

  Her expression is haughty when my gaze finally rises to her face.

  “You better put that shirt on before things get out of hand.”

  Except she doesn’t move, just stares at me like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do. What the fuck? I’m here trying to be the good guy and she’s doing everything in her power to push me over the edge. She has to know this isn’t a game that ends up with her as the winner.

  The t-shirt falls from her fingers to the floor as she continues to glare at me. The look in her eyes is a part come-on and part challenge.

  She doesn’t really want this, I know that. But if she keeps trying to play games with me, I’m going to be past caring.

  She glares at me. “I’m not scared of you.”

  Fuck it. “You should be.”

  I grab both of her arms in my hands and pull her towards me. Her skin is still hot and damp from the shower. It just makes the fire inside of me burn even hotter.

  My mouth presses against her neck. “Is this what you want, baby? You think if you make real nice that I won’t hurt you?”

  Her eyes seem overly large and wide in her thin face when she pulls back to look at me.

  “Does that really matter to you?”

  It really doesn’t. At least not right now when it feels like I’d rather die than spend another moment without my hands on her.

  My mood suddenly shifts without warning and I’m inexplicably angry. Maybe it’s because I can tell that she’s slowly trying to wrest control of the situation from me and succeeding. Maybe on some level I want to hold someone responsible for what her father has done, and she’s the only convenient target. All I know is that I ver
y much want to hurt her.

  My hands have moved up her body. And I’m shoving her down onto the bed before my conscious mind has caught up with the movement. The look of fear that crosses her face is genuine, and she lands hard on her back. The little “oh” of surprise that shapes her mouth wrings a mocking laugh from me.

  I climb over her naked body, my gaze moving across each hill and valley that is just waiting to be explored. She starts to fight a little and I collapse my lower body down onto hers, trapping her legs. My hands wrap securely around her wrists and bring them hard up over her head,

  “Stop,” she gasps.

  “Stop? We’ve come way too far for that, baby girl.” I lick the fragile skin of her neck. The tang of soap hits my tongue first, but then I taste something darker and more distinctly feminine. She’s like a dessert that I want to gobble up in one bite. “Keep fighting, though. I like a challenge.”

  “I’ll scream, I swear.” The high-pitched and reedy quality of her voice takes any edge out of her threat.

  “Then I’ll just have to gag you.” I really like that idea. My grip shifts on her wrists so I can wrap them both with one hand. I’d always thought it was a little unfair that God created women to be so much smaller and weaker than men, but that doesn’t mean I’m above taking advantage.

  I feel her trying to pull her hands away but she might as well have the strength that a dragonfly does in its wings for all that she’s able to resist me. The handcuffs are still in my back pocket. I use one hand to fish them out and then secure her to the metal headboard. I can’t help but wonder if it was designed for this exact purpose, it works so well.

  When I move back, she frantically pulls at the restraints. The sound of metal clanging against metal is loud in the small room but the handcuffs hold tight.

  The lamp on the nightstand is tiny and cheap but I click it on, anyway. Sitting back on my heels between her spread legs, I take a minute to just look at her.

  Her body is perfect, all smooth skin and perfect curves. There are fading bruises here and there, left over from her captivity. I did that, I realize. The thought should make me feel guilty but it doesn’t.

  A fine tremble courses over her body as she watches me with hooded, fearful eyes. I bend down to rummage in the duffel bag at the foot of the bed. Eventually, I pull out a roll of duct tape and hold it up.

  “Are you going to make me use this?” I ask.

  She shakes her head back and forth, the movement a little frantic.

  My palms lightly grip her calves and she jumps at my touch. I hear the dark clank of metal as her hands wrists pull against the shackles.

  “Is this what you wanted?” I ask. Even I can hear the anger in my voice. “That awkward play at seducing me was supposed to end up here, right?”

  “No—"

  “Don’t lie to me.” My hands move up to tickle the inside of her knees. I can feel the little jolts of movement as she tries not to react. “Tell me what you thought I was going to do.”

  She doesn’t respond, just glares at me with eyes that are narrowed in anger, but also wet with unshed tears. “I don’t know.”

  “But, you do.” I squeeze my hands on her thighs, hard enough that it will probably leave a mark. I only stop when she makes a small gasp of pain. “Tell me. Now.”

  She closes her eyes. A light blush picks up on her neck and moves slowly downward until her chest is the same shade of pink as her pert little nipples. “I thought you would kiss me.”

  “Kiss you?” A mocking smile spreads slowly across my face. “Where did you think I’d kiss you?”

  She blinks in confusion. “What do you mean, where?”

  “You really are innocent, aren’t you?” My hands stroke higher up her thighs until the tips of my fingers just barely skim the little dips that make up the curve of her hips.

  When she tries to kick out at me with her legs, I’m ready for the movement. It takes less than a second to subdue her, but I like to see that she still has some fight left.

  Even when the fight is hopeless.

  My hands move closer to the apex of her thighs. She bucks underneath the weight of my legs covering hers, but the movement does little more than shift me a bit from side to side. She’s not strong enough to throw me off.

  “What do you think I’m going to find here?” I ask, voice almost teasing.

  Touching her is like a biological imperative. It doesn’t matter if she hates me for doing this. It doesn’t matter if this is the final sin that pushes me beyond the point of redemption.

  My fingers stroke through the neat patch of hair between her thighs, catching slightly on the damp little curls. One finger moves down through her folds until I reach the pulsing heat at her center.

  I don’t quite know what I expected to find, but the lush wetness of her shocks me.

  “Oh, Sophia,” I murmur as she pants for breath underneath me.

  She wants this, I realize with a stunning clarity. Maybe not enough to overcome the nature of the situation, but the reaction of her body is something that can’t be faked. She’s very wet and very ready, whether she’s able to admit it to herself or not.

  I push one finger inside of her, gratified when I hear a long, low moan in response. Her legs move underneath me, but not like she’s still fighting to get away. The movement is frantic and uncontrolled, like she just can’t help herself.

  That thought brings a tiny smile to my face.

  Her walls clench tight around my finger as I work it gently in and out. With each stroke, I feel the slight barrier inside of her impeding my progress.

  I knew she was a virgin, but somehow that fact still floors me a little. How could a girl this beautiful stay untouched for this long? The thought should bother me — the knowledge that I could be the one to push her past the point of no return, but it does the opposite. Taking her virginity might just be a moment worth dying for.

  Her little moans and sighs are like music to my ears.

  Once she’s relaxed enough, I add a second finger. Her hips buck up against me hard enough that it almost topples me off of her. I probably should have tied her legs down with something, but I’m not stopping to do it now.

  She’s so responsive, I can hardly take it. “You like that?”

  “Please.” Wild eyes fly up to meet mine and her voice trembles. Not just with fear, I think, but with something else. Unwilling desire. Desperate wanting that terrifies her. I know, because I feel the same way. “Just tell me what you’re going to do.”

  My smile is full of darkness. “I’m going to give you that kiss.”

  “Wait—"

  But my hands are already forcing her thighs apart. My head descends between her legs until my mouth is the barest inch away from tantalizing flesh.

  She’s not trying to pull away anymore. I can’t tell if the decision is conscious or if her body has finally taken control from her mind. I know she wants to feel good and so do I.

  My mouth descends over her heated flesh. I use my fingers to spread the lips of her labia as my tongue sweeps across her in a thick stroke. She writhes underneath me. At first I think she’s still fighting to get away but then I realize she’s struggling to get closer.

  High-pitched noises are ripped from deep in her throat — tiny shrieks and moans that match the rhythm of my tongue.

  “Oh, God,” she gasps.

  I look up the long line of her body at her face, which is so sweet that I can barely take it. “You can call me Hunt.”

  Sophia doesn’t reply to that because my mouth is already back on her. She uses whatever breath she has left to let out a low moan. I pull her clit in between my lips and suck hard on it. I set my teeth against her, just enough to cause the smallest amount of pain.. She responds by making a noise that barely sounds human.

  Her hands pull at the shackles. I want to release her if just to see what it is she’ll do. Will she try to push me away or does she want me closer?

  When I back away slightly, she makes a
desperate keening sound. I watch her face, waiting until her breathing slows to something closer to a normal rate. She stares down at me, eyes full of terror and desire.

  I do owe her one, I remind myself. So I refocus on her pussy like I’m mounting an attack. Heavy tongue action and probing fingers have her moving and grinding underneath me. I use one finger to probe near her asshole and she goes over the edge. The handcuffs sound like a thunderstorm against the headboard as she quivers in an unwilling orgasm.

  The look on her face as I make her come is something that I want to remember forever.

  But we’re not done yet.

  “Tell me what kind of porn you watch behind daddy’s back.” I kiss her inner thigh, making her jump. “Did you like it sweet or were you into the really dirty stuff?”

  Her blush is a rage of bright red that takes over her entire body. “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Don’t be shy. Do you want me to guess?”

  She just shakes her head as circles of red appear high on her cheeks. I love how easy it is to get a reaction out of her.

  “Girl on girl?”

  She just glares at me.

  I smile and stroke a finger over her clit. Her leg spasms underneath me. “No, you probably see enough of it at that school of yours. Gangbang, maybe?”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Tell that to this dripping wet cunt of yours.” I skim my mouth over the little crease where her upper thigh meets her hip. The artery there beats with the steady rhythm of a metronome. I bite down on it until she makes a gasp of pain above me and then softly kiss the spot to ease the hurt. Pleasure and pain, all twisted up together until it’s impossible to tell one from the other. “Besides, we’re talking about you not me.”

  “Please, don’t. I can’t—"

  “One more guess,” I breathe against her skin. “Give a guy a chance.”

  Sophia grips the bars of the headboard. “You’re a monster.”

  She’s not wrong. But I think I know something about her, too. Bending down, I press my tongue against her clit and suck at the tender nub. Then I move down through her folds and keep going until I hit the little bud of muscle on the other side.