Captive at Christmas (14 page)

Whether he said the words or not, he cared.

He cared enough to do this, to force her to pay attention to every detail. And without the use of her hands or eyes, Hannah experienced his touch in a completely different manner. Every graze of fingertips along her flesh caused nerve endings to erupt with the sensation of it. This entire exercise was like a sensory delight, making her
feel
and
think
, rather than simply allowing her to lose herself in the moment.

“If I do anything you don’t like, or at any time if you want me to stop, say the word ‘carousel’, okay?”

Even the timbre of his voice sounded different when she couldn’t see. A little richer, deeper, and with the slightest hint of an accent she couldn’t place. Maybe somewhere southern? “O-okay.”

“But…” His warm breath fanned her nipples one at a time. “You are going to love
everything
to come.”

Oh, she didn’t doubt that for a second!

“Damn, Hannah.”

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant. Instead of words coming out, a gurgled moan was expelled. The man practically feasted on her breasts.

Sucking hard. Drawing her nipples up to almost painful peaks.

Of its own volition, her back arched. Mac pulled even harder at the pebbled buds of her nipples. His mouth was methodic, torturously so.

The suction was nothing less than pure, erotic ecstasy.

And as much as she fought against the restraints, desperate to cling to him while he gave her this gift, Hannah understood now, how people willingly allowed themselves to be tied up during sex. It felt downright incredible giving him the control to pleasure her, however he saw fit.

This torture went on for hours, or so it seemed to her. Each sharp stinging pinch was followed by a soothing brush of his hand or swipe of his tongue. At some point, she fell apart beneath the talented man, screaming words that made no sense to her sated yet starved body and mind. She wanted more and at the same time, it was almost too much. Mac took far too long in the space between her breasts and the apex of her thighs.

His hands, no longer using a rough touch, carefully guided her body over until she rested on her stomach. Much like the other day, he angled her hips until she was once again bared to his view. Bared for his pleasure.

Would he take her like he did then? Hard and fast and without mercy?

Or, would Mac set a slow and leisurely pace like their first time? Where she begged him to speed up?

The bed started shifting, much the same as when Mac got up. She assumed he’d left the bed and suddenly wondered if he planned on leaving her here, like this. Hannah stiffened in fear. That little voice in the back of her mind, the one sending warning bells through her head when he first bound her wrists together, it told her to scream. To yell out
carousel
and hope to God that Mac would release her.

Then the foam mattress shifted again. Heavy weight settled behind her. Hannah breathed a silent sigh of relief. Until she felt his hands roaming dangerously close to a very private part of hers, the little cleft between her cheeks. She lurched forwards but he held her firmly.

“Just experimenting, kitten,” Mac’s whisper explained. “You never know what you might like until you try it, right?”

His hands kneaded each of the round globes, gliding effortlessly over the flesh. Oil? Olive oil?

She noticed a scent and inhaled deeply.

Lavender. Bath oil.

Trusting in him, to know that Mac would stop if she used that word, Hannah forced her body to relax, to enjoy the massage and see what else she might find pleasure in. So far, nothing he did caused her any pain – intentional, at least.

With every wide arc of his hands, Mac moved closer to that part of her she wasn’t sure of, but he made her feel so wonderful. Like he said, she’d never know until she tried.

His breathing matched hers now, shallow and laboured. Short crisp hairs tickled the backs of her thighs and she knew he had removed his clothes. She ached to see him, to take in the magnificent…cock – there, she thought it! – standing at attention.

All for her.

Her
body turned him on, sent his blood pumping south and inflating his manhood.

“Still okay?” He paused, one of his fingers – or was that a thumb? – pressed to the entrance of her darkest and most private of places.

Surprisingly, yes. Hannah nodded, unable to say the word out loud. Her tongue was like lead in her mouth.

“Push out when I press in, okay kitten?”

She felt a little more oil being rubbed against her and again, nodded.

There was the press. Though embarrassed and slightly afraid of feeling pain, Hannah complied. She pushed out, his digit slipped inside. And she felt … full.

Filthy, erotic, and full.

Mac brought his free hand down to the throbbing pearl at the top of her drenched folds and began a torturously slow circle with not enough pressure to do much of anything. Except perhaps to cause her entire body to tremble with an insane amount of need.

The digit moved, slowly, carefully, further inside and then retreated. At the same time, he gave her what she didn’t have the voice to ask for.

More pressure.

More sensation.

The buildup continued, sending a massive amount of blinding heat mushrooming through her, right down to the very tips of her toes. Light trembling became more substantial until Hannah’s body pulsed and writhed into a full on shuddering mess.

Still, he continued adding pressure and thrusting harder and faster.

With her spine arched and her backside stuck up in the air, Hannah screamed his name over and over, until it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

In this post-climactic stupor, the sensory-overload was too much for her to notice him pressed to the entrance of her ass. Mac shook with need. Ever since the first time he caught sight of her luscious globes, he dreamed of feeling himself between them – almost as much as being inside her heat.

Too lost in the moment to think of asking, of checking if she was alright with this, Mac simply pushed on. His eyes rolled back in his head at the tightness of her muscles, squeezing the head of him as he entered her. Each ring felt even tighter than the last, shredding his control to pieces.

If she clenched those muscles, he’d blow his damned load.

Just as he pushed his entire tip inside, she reared back, impaling herself with the full hardened length of him. Hannah screamed.

Full out shrieked in pain.

His heart stopped, stuttered and he choked back on a sob.

What the fuck have you done?
he chastised himself.

“Hannah, baby, I’m so sorry.” He smoothed the sweat-soaked hair away from her neck. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she sobbed, rocking her hips, grinding her backside against him.

Those words sent him over the barrier of his remaining self-control. He needed her, needed this. Christ, when a woman like Hannah gives herself to a man like him, he doesn’t – or shouldn’t – back down.

Hands fisting her hips, he took her hard, a hell of a lot harder than he should have. With each thrust, he chanted the words
I love you, I love you, I love you,
in his mind. Over and over.

Harder.

Faster.

Melding their two bodies into one.

Her cries filling the room, his mind, and his heart.

Mac, not wanting to be too much of a selfish bastard, dipped one hand below her waist in search of her folds.

Slick. He smiled, knowing he was the one who made her this aroused.

Latching onto her clit with his thumb and forefinger, he rolled it between them fast. Her muscles clenched him, held him tighter. On the wave of her release, he rode her out, pounding until he came with a guttural cry.

Hannah slept peacefully beside him and Mackenzie wished that he could hold her one last time. Taste her. Feel her body shuddering from his attentions. Be inside her once more. If he gave in to the temptation, neither of them would have a life to go back to. He had one final mission to complete and would receive no payment or joy from it, but it had to be done. For their continued survival, he told himself.

Last night, she had given him the greatest gift. It was a night, a memory that he would carry with him until his dying breath. One he would cherish, forever
alone.

Mac nodded to himself, biting back a sting in his eyes. One day she’d find a man who could love her like she needed, like she deserved. That it wouldn’t be him caused a great deal of agony, but he knew – as did she – going into this, that nothing good ever came to a man who took life for a living.

With a silent sigh, he extricated his weary body from the bed and quietly gathered his things. Once he finished, the only trace that he had ever been here was the tree and carved ornaments sitting in the corner. A sly grin curled his mouth as he remembered how exhausted he’d been, but he didn’t stop until the very last snowflake was hanging and he’d cleaned up the wood shavings. The look of utter glee on her face made the effort worthwhile.

Before leaving, Mac gazed upon the woman he had come to adore. He didn’t deserve her love in return though and it frustrated him that she would give it, and herself, so willingly.

He desperately wanted to kiss her but refrained.

Clutching the duffel bag in his hand, Mac exited the cottage, climbed into his vehicle and drove down the mountain in the dark. His destination was an old friend’s house and the barrage of weapons under the seats in the back were the gift he would bestow on the man who dared to hire someone to kill an innocent woman.

Mac drove for nearly twenty-seven hours straight the day he left Hannah, stopping only to fill up his gas tank, purchase food or use the restroom. Then he got back onto the highway and pushed on until he reached his destination. When he arrived in the small village outside of Durango, Colorado, he parked in an abandoned barn just two hundred yards from Aaron’s ranch and sat tight until nightfall. While he waited, Mac prepared himself, both mentally and physically, for the task ahead of him.

Climbing into the back, he opened the fabric-lined flap in the trunk and took out his gear. He stripped out of his jeans and sweater, dressing in the one piece jumpsuit. As he donned the rest of his tactical gear, Mackenzie attempted to steel himself, in the same manner he usually did before taking on such a mission. However, thanks to the time spent with Hannah, his mind was filled with conflicting points of reason and doubt in his abilities.

If he failed, not only would Hannah not have a home to go back to, but Kayla wouldn’t have a single relative to take her in and only God knows what might happen to her.

No, failure was not an option in this instance. Too many lives were at risk. He would just have to make sure that he did whatever was necessary to achieve his goal.

As darkness fell around him, Mackenzie gathered his artillery into a large duffel bag and crept soundlessly through the night. Not even the snow crunched beneath his stealthy movements as he edged through the small wooded area behind Wannamaker’s home.

The man himself was propped up in an easy chair, wedged between an electric fireplace and a state of the art entertainment system. In clear view of the window. Like the damned fool he’d always been.

Easy target.

If he wanted to, Mac could set up his
L115A3 AWM
sniper rifle and shoot him in the head from his hiding place. But a quick death would be too noble an end for the son-of-a-bitch.

Good thing he left it back in the truck.

Mac considered the house for a while as the sky continued to darken. Simple rectangle shape structure. Gable roof. Security cameras hooked to four corners that moved in a wide arc to examine the area around the building. So far, nothing less than he had at his own place.

Unfortunately for Wannamaker, Mackenzie knew the man too well. There was more and he knew just where to find it.