Page 37 of His Captive

I sit up and take a gulp of air, my heart slamming in my chest so fiercely I feel it inside my head. My fists are tangled in the sheets, and sweat leaks from my pores.

I hate that they still get to me.

After all these years she still haunts me.

She should have been mine.

No, she is mine and he took her from me. Because I’d been weak.

I won’t let that happen again.

Never lose to Ivan Sorrento again.

Getting out of bed, I pull on some pajama pants and storm across the hall.

I don’t even attempt to talk myself out of it. Almost tearing Lysetta’s door from its hinges when I rip it open.

A surge of anger followed by panic makes me tense when I look to her bed and she isn’t there. And then I find her, sat on the floor beside the balcony window, her arms hugging her knees. She’s wearing the short silk robe I’d brought her earlier, open at the front and revealing a black lace bra, and matching panties that look every bit as good on her as I imagined they would.

“Ethan?” She sounds shocked, as she raises to her feet, and I blank out the fact that she looks happy to see me.

“Turn around and look outside,” I order, stepping closer. The night is so black on the other side of the glass, it shows our reflection. Only the colored lights from the distant town below us light up the skyline in front of us. When I’m close enough to touch her, I push my hand into a mass of her perfect curls, scrunching them inside my fist and making sure she does as I tell her.

“Palms against the glass Lysetta,” I instruct.

Her hands reach forward and press against the balcony doors, her hot breath frosting the glass pane in front of her. I lean in so my lips almost touch her ear, feeling the tingle it sends across her skin.

“You see that town below us, it’s called Cannonville.”

Her head bobs against my restraint.

“And I fucking own it,” I tell her. “Everything your eyes can see I have a power over, in one way or another. I lease out buildings. I lend businesses money so they can expand. I control it. I run it, I own it.”

She doesn’t respond, but I can see she’s paying attention to what I’m telling her.

“I’m going to own you too, Lysa,” I warn, ensuring my bottom lip brushes against her lobe this time. A breathy sigh leaves her mouth as her body loosens to rest against mine.

“I will use your body for my pleasure,” I continue, tracing the finger of my free hand over her spine. Sliding it beneath her robe, I follow the lace of her thong between the cheeks of her ass, until it skims over her entrance. She tenses, and a tiny hiss pulls through her teeth.

“I’m going to take this pussy, and I’m going to make it mine.”

Her eyes close tight, ashamed when a warm gush of pleasure soaks through her panties and drenches the tip of my finger.

“And something tells me that your gonna really enjoy letting me take it.”

I let her see my smirk through the glass before I dip my finger inside her up to the knuckle. At first she gasps, loudly, then as she adjusts, gradually starts to rock herself against it. So I gift her with another.

Her cunt is so tight it crushes my fingers, and I can only imagine what the fuck it will do to my dick. I don’t go too deep, cautious that I’ll spoil her too soon. But, I tease her entrance and work her with my fingers until she soaks them. Pulling them out, I lift them in front of her, smearing her sticky pleasure on to the glass in front of her.

“Lick,” I order.

“Ethan, please,” she begs. Her ass rubbing back onto my stiff cock. Any other time I would enjoy her pleas, but tonight I’m running short on patience.

I spit sharply on to the glass. Watching as my saliva mixes with her sweet tasting pussy juice, and starts to slide down the glass.

“Lick,” I repeat impatiently, guiding her head forward on to the glass with the fist I have tangled in her hair. Her mouth opens, and her tongue swipes at the glass, leaving a long smear in its trail.

“Show me,” I demand, wrenching her back. She opens up wide for me. Revealing my cocktail on her tongue.

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