Page 9 of The General's Bride

With a groan, Zahn pressed his mouth against her cunt, his tongue leaving no inch of it unexplored. London was so wet she literally dripped with her need for him.

She screamed with pleasure, wiggling and grinding against him. London rattled her chains, this time not to break free, but from the inability to keep still.

More than anything he wanted to slide his cock into her tight sheath, but the orgasm would have to be earned. Reluctantly he pulled back.

She whimpered and lifted her hips as though begging for more.

Zahn licked her juices from his lips. London was a tasty temptation he had trouble resisting. Getting off the bed, he stood over her. Confusion clouded her eyes.

London’s lips parted in an unspoken question.

“Yes, you wanted me, but you can’t have me—yet. Think about it while I go to the upper deck and check on the ship.” He walked out of the room then.

Leaving her was harder than he thought.

When the doorshut behind him, Paris let out a sob. What the hell just happened?

That maniac had kidnapped and chained her to his bed, yet when he touched her, her body burst into flames.

She’d had boyfriends in the past, but the most she’d allowed was heavy petting.

One boyfriend had even fingered her, but none of her past men had ever made her feel anywhere near this insatiable lust. Paris had never been so close to an orgasm in her life that wasn’t ministered by her own hand.

What kind of person was she to respond so wantonly to a complete stranger? Sure, it had been a while since she’d dated, but she wasn’t that desperate for a man. Never mind he was one of the sexiest pieces of man candy she’d seen in a while.

Are you nuts?This man took you away from your home and took you to… where in the world was she? This place had a futuristic feel about it.

Paris stretched her neck as far as it would go to get a look around her. The room was spacious enough. At first glance, it was like any ordinary bedroom, but the walls were metallic, andthe window reminded her of the kind you saw on a cruise ship except bigger.

The feeling of movement was another thing that struck her. Was she on some kind of shuttle? Not to mention, when her captor spoke it wasn’t in a language she recognized. The only word she’d picked up from his deep, guttural words was London.

He’d said it often enough for Paris to believe he thought that was her name.

Paris’s breath caught in her throat as a thought occurred to her. He believed that’s who she was. How could that be? Her sister and mother had been missing for twenty years. Could it be that this man had something to do with their disappearance?

If he believed she was her sister, then London had somehow escaped him. It was the only thing that made sense. Now that she’d figured that out, how on earth would she get away? Worse still, how would she squash these inconvenient feelings she had for him, especially when he thought she was someone else?

She’d wanted some excitement in her life, but this wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

Chapter

Five

Some excitement this was turning out to be. The adage be careful what you wished for certainly came to mind. Paris’s last coherent thought was crying herself to sleep. She remembered experiencing the most delicious dream. Warm hands had massaged her flesh, heating it to near burning.

Fingers delved into her hot slick channel, almost taking her to a climax, but denying her, leaving Paris with a desolate feeling. More than anything she craved total fulfillment.

When she woke up, Paris was no longer chained to the bed, nor was she naked, but she might as well have been. The metal bra, cool against her skin, was tight and pinched her breasts uncomfortably. Thong underwear was barely covered by a blue silk loin cloth. She looked like a chick in chain mail from one of those really bad sci-fi B movies.

Who had dressed her in this obscene outfit?

Instead of the large soft bed she’d fallen asleep on, she was in a chair, her hands positioned on the arm rests. She looked around her. The odd room had the appearance of some kind of mad scientist’s lab, with all its weird looking gadgets. The walls were covered with monitors.

When she attempted to stand, restraints popped out of the arm rests and quickly locked over her wrists, holding them in place. Her bonds tightened the harder she struggled. What kind of device was this? Had she been brought to a high-tech torture chamber? And where was the barbarian?

She gasped when her restraints gripped her harder. Only when she relaxed her body did they loosen—slightly. “Help me! Please someone help me!” Paris screamed, even though she had the distinct impression no one would come to her aid. She still had to try. “Please, someone!”

She would not cry. No matter what she wouldn’t let that bastard win. Screaming at the top of her lungs and twisting around in the chair, she tried to get someone’s attention, but that only served to make her throat ache and wrists hurt.

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