Hunted in the Dark

by Stacia Stone

  Not every girl is into anal but I have a feeling about her. Filthy little thing that she is. Good girls don’t watch so much porn that they learn how to give amazing blowjobs without ever needing to practice on the real thing. When she bucks underneath me and lets out little, desperate moans, I know for sure.

  “Naughty, naughty girl.”

  Sophia stares up at the dirty popcorn ceiling as a single tear tracks down her cheek. A rogue shot of regret moves through me but I deliberately push it away. This is what she wanted, right? To seduce me, draw me in with her body, and then take advantage of my weakness.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  “I’m in a good mood.” My face is still pressed close against her thigh and I watch as my breath raises tiny goosebumps across her skin. “So, I’ll let you decide.”

  She swallows hard and I follow the movement down the smooth column of her throat. “Decide what?”

  “Where do you want it?” The look of confusion on her face is slowly turning to one of growing alarm. She knows exactly what I mean, but I’m enjoying myself too much not to make it crystal clear. My fingers stroke through the lips of her pussy. “I can take the virginity that Daddy has been working so hard to save. Or—" I push one finger into her ass, alert for the surprised yelp that quickly turns into a moan. “We can stick with keeping this our dirty little secret. I know which I’d prefer, but like I said — I’m feeling generous.”

  Her eyes are wide as dinner plates. “You want to fuck me in the ass?”

  There’s that word again. I wonder if it tastes good on her tongue as it does on mine. “That’s a crass way of putting it, but still accurate.”

  “What if I say no to both?” Her voice trembles slightly.

  “I don’t remember offering that as a choice.” My hand skims up her thigh and over her stomach, playing at the tiny dip of her belly button. She’s smooth everywhere, like her skin is made of satin. “You’re the one who waltzed out of that bathroom with no clothes on. I think it’s a little late for no, don’t you?”

  Her eyes stare into mine. She’s trying to figure out how serious I am. “You wouldn’t—"

  “Kidnapping,” I say, holding up one finger, and then put up another for each one on the list. “Assault. Blackmail. Threatening grievous bodily harm. We don’t even need to bother with the mail fraud or transporting stolen goods across state lines. What’s one more crime added to the list?”

  This is the final test.

  I’m not a rapist. I have no intention of holding her down and forcing myself on her. But I don’t think that I’ll have to. The way she looks at me, the scorching heat and wet between her legs — those aren’t the signs of a woman who’s unwilling.

  I almost stop. Almost. Forcing women isn’t my kink, but with a naked woman tied up underneath me, I’m reevaluating a lot of things.

  Because I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life. Even if it’s just because she’s the one woman that I can’t have. She’s like a fire burning in my blood.

  “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have done that…come out of the bathroom like that…” Her breathing hitches. “This isn’t what I meant to happen.”

  “It’s not?” I kiss up her stomach until my mouth hovers over one pink nipple. “I think this is exactly what you wanted to happen. But now that it’s gotten out of your control, it’s scaring you.”

  “You can’t blame me for being scared. Look at what you’ve done.”

  My mouth closes over her nipple and sucks hard, wringing a loud cry from her. The succulent flesh slowly slips from my mouth as I pull back to look at her face.

  “Let me make you feel good.” Our faces are only a few inches apart and I fight off the sudden urge to kiss her. This is about manipulation, not love or romance. My fingers dip inside of her again as I watch her face for a reaction. Raw need flares in her eyes before she looks away. “I know you want it.”

  This is her last chance to get out of this before it goes too far. I don’t know how what lengths she’s willing to go to manipulate me, but I hope that it’s all the way.

  “Are you still planning to kill me?”

  “I don’t want to.” That’s as much honesty as I can offer her.

  Something moves behind her eyes, an expression that I can’t read.

  “Take off the handcuffs.”

  The request is so unexpected that I’m taken aback. I realize that she hadn’t asked earlier, despite all the play at fighting me off. It’s an interesting observation, but I’m not completely sure that I know what it means.

  The handcuffs barely make a sound as they hit the carpet. Her hands come down at the same moment. But not to fight me off, instead her arms wrap solidly around my neck and her face is pressed close to mine.

  And then she kisses me.

  Chapter 14

  If it’s possible to die of embarrassment, then I almost do.

  I should have known that he would see right through my attempt to manipulate him. It’s clear that’s what this was about: his way of making sure that I know he has all the power.

  What I couldn’t have known is how good it would feel to have his hands on my skin. How easy it would be for him to make me come when no one’s hands but my own have been on me before.

  There was no way to prepare for how much I would want him to touch me.

  But that’s not where the overwhelming urge to kiss him came from. It was a simpler thing than that. His hands and his mouth have been all over my body, but he hasn’t kissed me. And I wanted it, inexplicably and without logical reason.

  I wanted to do it and I knew he wouldn’t expect it. Maybe it’s the first thing I’ve done that he hasn’t expected.

  The kiss starts off sweet and soft, maybe because I’m the one who initiated it. But as he obviously overcomes his initial surprise, the kiss changes to something deeper and more passionate.

  My mind knows that this is the man who kidnapped me, sexually assaulted me and threatened to kill me. But my body doesn’t care. I’m completely ashamed of my response, of the little bursts of want and desire coursing through me, but I can’t stop it.

  He pulls away to stare down into my face. “I don’t understand you.”

  I don’t understand myself, either. But I can’t see past the fact that the two of us are in this bed together. I just want the raging fire burning inside of me to be put out.

  “Do it.” I pull his head down for another kiss and he lets me. “Do whatever you want, whatever you think I’ll like. Please, just do it.”

  He looks like he wants to argue, or say something that’s not an affirmative. I reach down and touch him through the thick fabric of his jeans. His dick is rock hard and throbs against my fingers.

  The look that descends over his face can only be described as primal.

  He presses his forehead against mine. When he speaks, his voice is guttural and deep. “We don’t have protection. I don’t want to take your virginity, not like this.”

  I sigh as his hands travel down the curve of my waist. My gaze feels trapped by his as we stare into each other’s eyes. “Then don’t.”

  To my surprise, he slides off of the bed and kneels on the floor. I watch the tightly corded muscles of his back shift as he rummages in the gigantic duffel bag that he pulled from the car.

  When he holds up a bottle of lube, the haze of desire momentarily recedes in favor of trepidation.

  “Will it hurt?” My voice shakes a little.

  “I promise you’ll like it.”

  I realize that isn’t an answer just as his hands grip my legs and stroke slowly up to my thighs. By that point, I don’t care anymore.

  It’s like we’re suspended in some dream world where none of the normal rules apply. I’m not ready to return to cold and cruel reality, regardless of the eventual consequences.

  His fingers are back to stroking my clit, sending little frissons of desire through me that I feel all the way to my toes. I’m not a nun. There’s a vibrator i
n my sock drawer at home that I ordered off of the internet, but nothing I’ve done to myself feels like this.

  Then his fingers move to play at the tiny ring of muscle that no one has ever touched before and I lose the ability to breathe.

  Maybe knowing it’s wrong is what makes it feel so good. I know there will be terrible consequences. We’re sliding headlong into the completely forbidden.

  And I just don’t care.

  “Stay with me,” he murmurs and twists his fingers inside of me. Stars explode across my vision.

  I’m so limp underneath him that I barely notice the increased pressure at my rear entrance until his hips move forward. What surprises me most is the sudden shock of cold from the lubricant.

  With one small thrust he’s inside of me and I feel it like a punch to the gut.

  “Relax,” he says when I immediately tense. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  But it doesn’t hurt anymore, not really. It just feels like the most carnal of invasions. I’m completely under his control. And each time he inches forward, his fingers tug at the swollen bud of oversensitive tissue between my thighs. I’m lost between the warring sensations. Fast and slow. Hot and cold. Pleasure and pain.

  He surges forward another small distance and I hear a high-pitched shriek. It takes me a second to realize that the noise came from me. The sound wasn’t from pleasure or pain, but some heady combination of the two.

  “Just like that, baby.” He smoothes the hair back from my face, a few sweaty tendrils still clinging to my skin. “You’re so good.”

  I stare up at his face, amazed to find an expression of wonder and gratification. I realize in that moment that he’s not just taking me. I’m taking him, too. One of my hands rises on its own to stroke a finger across the jut of his lower lip and he sucks it into his mouth.

  “You’re going to come again like this.” He punctuates the words with wicked twists of his fingers. Two of them thrust inside of my pussy while his thumb rubs tiny circles on my clit. His hips move against my thighs with a steady rhythm that never changes pace. “We’re not stopping until you do.”

  There’s no answer to that. I just stare up into his determined eyes at a loss for words. I can feel the orgasm building inside of me, like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice about to fall over. But I’m not there yet.

  Because it does hurt, but not a bad type of pain, if that makes any sense at all.

  It’s more of just an incredible sense of fullness that is a hairsbreadth from being too much to take. We’ve been merged together into one desperate, quivering organism that only has a single purpose.

  His free hand wraps around my wrists and forces them over my head while the other continues its assault between my legs.

  “You can’t get away from me.” His whisper is harsh and guttural in my ear. “You’re my little slut to fuck the way I want.”

  The filthy words shouldn’t have such a potent effect on me. I feel owned and degraded. I know it’s wrong, but it feels so right.

  The push of his hips has increased in tempo and my inner walls stretch to accommodate him. The reality of what’s happening creeps at the periphery of my awareness but I shove it away. All I want to do is feel.

  His hand presses down harder on my wrists until they’re trapped painfully against the metal rungs of the headboard. I wonder if he cares anymore if it’s good for me, or if he’s moved to a place where I’m just a thing to be taken and controlled

  Just a vessel for his pleasure.

  It’s that thought that sends me over the edge into screaming orgasm. Stars and streaks of light explode in front of my eyes. Black spots appear in my vision and steadily grow larger with each frantic beat of my heart. The last thing I hear before I pass out is his own grunt of completion and then everything fades away.

  I wake up alone in the bed with my arms above my head. When I try to move, they catch with a jingle of metal. He’s handcuffed me again. Reality hits me like being drenched in freezing, cold water.

  Fuck.

  I am in every nightmare that I’ve ever had about the future. I am the dirty, twisted thing that my father feared I would become without his influence.

  How long have I been out? It feels like hours, but was probably closer to a minute or two. I hear the sound of a shower running in the dark and realize that he’s in the bathroom.

  I’m not sure what I expected of him, maybe a little comfort or something to ease my return to the truth of our situation, but it wasn’t this rude awakening all alone and handcuffed to the bed.

  He is your kidnapper not your boyfriend; I remind myself. He’s the asshole who’s spent the last three days torturing you.

  That didn’t seem like torture, the tormenting little voice in my head whispers. In fact, sex with him felt like anything but torture. It might have been the most amazing thing that I’ve ever felt before. Except that doesn’t stop the curl of shame rising up inside of me.

  I shift on the bed and a shock of soreness centered between my legs shoots through me.

  I’m not a virgin anymore.

  I explore that thought the way you’d probe a wound. Feeling around the edges, waiting for the little flash of pain each time that fades away until you poke at it again.

  I mean, my hymen is still intact, for what’s that worth. But my innocence has been taken and I’m not ever getting that back.

  No, not taken. I let him have it. I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse. If he’s a monster, then what does that make me?

  He didn’t bother to handcuff my legs and I move them experimentally. It doesn’t hurt as much down there as I would have thought it would. He hadn’t been a brute.

  Now that the glow of arousal has faded, I’m very aware of the fact that I’m naked and tied down in an awkward position. There’s no way to hide or cover any part of myself. I’m completely exposed.

  And he just left me like this.

  Hinges creak as the water is turned off in the bathroom. I brace myself, but I’m still not ready when the door opens and Hunt emerges in a cloud of steam. A towel is in his hands and he scrubs at his face with it, but otherwise he’s naked as the day he was born. His penis is soft and bounces lightly against his thigh as he walks forward. He has the body of a Greek statue, all lean muscle and sculpted lines. I have to force my gaze away before he realizes that I’m staring.

  He’s a devil, I remind myself. He’s only wearing the face of an angel.

  He bends to rifle through the duffle bag and I work up what little courage I have left.

  “Hunt?” His name catches on my tongue and I realize this is the first time I’ve said it.

  He tenses at the sound of my voice, but doesn’t look up. “What?”

  “Could you cover me up with something?”

  Hunt stands and pulls on a pair of boxer shorts. The weight of his gaze is like a burning heat as it moves over me. I have to look away as a furious blush blooms on my cheeks and works its way down my body.

  With one hand, he twitches the thin sheet, so it drapes over me. It’s scratchy and rough against my bare skin.

  “Too bad, I was enjoying the view.” His tone is mocking, but only lightly.

  I’m not sure what I expected to change, but there’s an energy that travels between us now that wasn’t there before. I’m still naked and chained to the bed, of course, but it’s a small step in the right direction.

  The handcuffs rattle as I pull on them. “Are you going to leave me like this?”

  He slides into the bed next to me, but maintains a slight distance between us. “I can’t trust you not to try escaping.”

  “Can you at least handcuff my legs, instead?” Maybe if my hands were free, I could find a way to get away. The handcuff key is still in the jeans crumpled on the floor. I might be able to get to them. “This hurts too much to sleep.”

  “We’re here so I can sleep, remember? I don’t give a fuck if you do or not.”

  Asshole. Maintaining the su
bmissive act is almost more than I can handle. “Please—"

  “Shut up or I’m going to gag you.”

  I glare up at the ceiling, suddenly fighting back tears. “You really are an asshole.”

  “Nothing’s changed between us, sweetheart. You got that?” Suddenly, he’s looming over me and the gentle lover from before is nowhere to be seen. “You aren’t going to manipulate me. No matter how good your mouth or your ass or your cunt feel around my dick.”

  This time I don’t stop the flood of tears. They course down my cheeks and soak the pillow underneath my cheek.

  “Stop it,” he commands.

  But I can’t stop, even if I wanted to. I don’t even know what I’m crying for. Maybe the horror of being kidnapped, for my lost innocence, or for wanting the person who tormented me more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.

  I’m crying for all of it.

  Hunt shifts to bring his face closer to mine. I can barely make out his features in the dark but his dark eyebrows draw together, whether in anger or confusion is impossible to say.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says over my racking sobs. “This is just the way things have to be.”

  “You are hurting me,” I gasp out. “You’re killing me.”

  He traces the course of a tear down my cheek with one finger, his touch almost reverent. “I never meant for anything to get this far. You were never supposed to be this involved.”

  “You kidnapped me.” Anger momentarily overcomes my self-pity. “What did you think was going to happen?”

  “I thought your father would act like a man with some integrity and give me what I need.”

  I can’t resist a laugh that’s completely devoid of humor. “A man with some integrity? That’s rich coming from you. I doubt my father has ever kidnapped and raped a woman before.”

  He moves more solidly over me. The sheet slips to the side so a line of his bare skin presses directly against me. My heart automatically skips a beat.

  “For one, you might be surprised by what your father has done.” His breath is hot on my cheek as he leans closer. I think he’s going to try to kiss me but he just whispers harshly in my ear. “Second, you can’t rape the willing, sweetheart. You were practically gagging for it.”