Page 77 of A Captive Situation

I was falling for this psychopath.

As his kiss grew more insistent, more demanding, his hands fell away from my face to slide down my ass. He cupped both cheeks, getting a good strong and sturdy hold of them. Then he lifted me, stepping between my legs.

It felt so good, all of it.

The sweep of his tongue inside of me, as he was tasting me, claiming me too.

A helpless shudder worked its way up my spine, going backward, and by the time it got to my neck, I’d ceased thinking all together. My arms clung to him as my legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried me to a bedroom, kicking the door shut, and he turned, pressing me against it. His hand went to my thigh, gripping me tightly.

His mouth fell to my throat, tasting me. His other hand went to my shirt, shoving it aside as he grasped my breast, palming it. His finger and thumb rubbed over my nipple, playing with it. He was almost callous in his touching. There wasn’t a smoothness there, but that felt right.

I was writhing against him, just needing more. More touch. More of him.

I went to his jeans, unbuckling them. I yanked at the zipper at the same time his other hand dipped between my legs. My pajama shorts were useless. They were no barrier, and Jake easily moved them down, slipping like silk so I could part for him.

He found my clit, and I paused.

“Jake,” I gasped again, my head falling back to the wall.

The pleasure was overwhelming.

This attraction had always been there, unbidden and unwanted. The circumstances rose up, demanding we were brought together again and again, and now this. It was an explosion needing to go off.

So let us both explode.

Let us pick up the pieces after, becausethenwe would be able to think again. We would have coherent thoughts and we could choose what we wanted to do, how to do it. But this way, there were no thoughts. Just feelings of want and need. It was ferocious and brazen, and I was blind to anything except the feel of Jake between my legs.

He slid a finger between my folds.

A moan escaped me.

“Youran.” He lifted his head, his eyes furious, but with a bloodthirst in them too. His finger shoved inside of me.

A moan slipped past my lips.

“You ran from me.” A second finger shoved inside. His thumb rubbed over my clit at the same time he pulled those fingers out, only to slide back inside. “You don’t fucking run again. Not from me. You hear me? You don’t run,ever.” He snarled, his fingers almost punishing now, and he bent forward, grazing his teeth over my throat.

Another shiver went through my whole body.

I could only hold on to Jake. The pleasure was accosting me. He felt so good. My legs tightened around him, and when his teeth teased on my skin, I squeezed him so tight that he gasped. I raised myself up.

His head lifted, a warning in his eyes.

I didn’t give a fuck.

Closing my eyes, my head fell back, and I rolled my hips, riding his hand.

“You think I should let you come on my fingers?” As he asked, they twitched deep inside of me.

I snarled. “You don’t take those fingers out of me.”

It wasn’t right how good that felt, that it was him who gave me this. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Anyone else? But it wasn’t. Just thisasshole who plucked me out of my midlife identity crisis and yanked me into his world, where violence and death and ruthlessness reigned.

Fuck him for doing that, for changing everything in my world.

He stilled, just slightly.

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