Deadly Captive (3 page)

Surging forward, I drove the heel of my palm into his sternum. He stumbled into the wall by the bed, staring at me as he righted himself. I smirked.

Didn't see that coming, did you, asshole?

His eyes narrowed. A muscle in his jaw ticked. I scrambled off the bed when he strode towards me, but he caught a fistful of my hair and jerked me against his front.

Then, he forced me into the space between the bed frame and the wall. The metal frame felt like a bar of ice on the bare flesh of my side. I tried to wrench out of his grasp and dodge him. He hauled me back and trapped me with the press of his body.

"Don't ever do that again," he said, through gritted teeth. "This situation hasn't left me with much tolerance."

My eyes teared, but my gaze never wavered. "Right back at you. I didn't sign up for your games."

He eased his grip on my hair. "Neither of us signed up for any of this, Lydia. I wanted to make sure I could trust my cell mate."

"Of all the . . . ." I shook my head. "Please, I need to know. Some kind of morbid curiosity, I guess. Why in the world would I fake memory loss? What purpose would it serve?"

With a shrug, he rested his arm on my shoulder, still loosely holding my hair. "It would be a clever sympathy card."

Damn it, he's right
. I felt the tension ease from my body, no longer feeling very combative. "How do you know I'm not faking it? If I was, it would be pretty stupid to acknowledge my name."

"No. Actually, it wouldn't have proven much. It might have made me suspicious, more than I already was. It would be strange that you'd remember your name, but not your own face. I was hoping your reaction would be revealing." He closed his eyes and dropped his head. "It was, but not in the way I'd hoped. The loss is worse than I thought. There wasn't even a glimmer of recognition."

Grazing my teeth back and forth along my bottom lip, I glared at his chest. "It could be an act."

Fingers under my chin, he tilted my head up. "No, Lydia. You couldn't have faked the fear I saw. You thought it was one of them."

I jerked away from him and clenched my fists at my sides. "I'm not afraid of them."

"Yes, you are. You're not a stupid woman, Lydia."

The way he said my name sent a chill down my spine. I dug my nails into my palms.

"Stop."

He frowned. "Stop what?"

"Saying my name like that."

With a wicked smile, he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. "Lydia."

I swung my fist at his face. He knocked it aside and caught my wrist when I tried again.

"Lydia." He backed me into the table. My hip knocked the empty plate and it clattered on the floor. Sitting me on the edge of the table, he trapped my face between his hands. My breath caught, and I pressed my eyes shut, expecting him to slam his mouth on mine. It could hurt; my lips were still sore.

His tongue gently traced the crease of my lips. He combed his fingers into my hair and tugged until I tipped my head back. Then, he kissed me so tenderly I opened my eyes and stared at him.

He kissed the tip of my nose. "Why do you look so surprised?"

Why?
I licked my bottom lip and tasted the saltiness of his sweat. Delicious. My eyes dropped to the moisture beaded on his chest. I leaned forward. He tightened his grip.

"Well?"

I groaned. "I thought you'd be rough."

"You keep looking at me like that, and I will be."

He took hold of the cloth hung over my shoulder and eased it down. Freeing my arms, I lifted them over my head and sat up against him. He slid the material down to my waist, baring my breast. The cold bit at them, hardening my nipples before he covered them with his hands.

My breasts were tiny, maybe
too
tiny. As though reading my mind, he kissed me and backed away a little. A crooked smile on his lips, he squeezed my breasts. "I wonder if they would be bigger if you weren't such a fitness junkie."

Wrinkling my nose, I frowned at him. "Too small?"

His laughter vibrated through me as he pressed closer. He shook his head. "No. I always find more than a handful is a waste." Curving his hands under my breasts, he rolled my nipples against his fingers with his thumb. "Besides, like this they're less likely to sag."

Making a sound of affront, I smacked his large forearm. Before the smack finished sounding, he bent to suck a hard nipple into his mouth. Electric sparks sizzled along my nerves, and a groan escaped me. His teeth grazed my nipple. My back bowed, and I braced my hands on the table.

His hand moved up my inner thigh, and I flattened my hands on his slick chest as he dipped a finger inside me. My core throbbed as he worked his finger in deep.

"You're so wet." He added another finger and leaned over to kiss my neck. "Tell me you want this."

I wiggled my hips so my butt was on the very edge of the table. "Obviously."

"Please." He lifted his head, and his heavy lidded eyes looked dark, haunted.

"Just say it."

Pleasure filled me as he pumped his fingers in and out, but I felt cold as I considered why he needed to hear the words. He'd been forced to rape me and at least two others.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed against him. "I want this. I want you."

He reached between us and unzipped his jeans. "Good."

With one arm wrapped around my waist, he positioned himself between my thighs. Gripping his dick, he slipped it up and down my slit. His thick head pushed between my folds, penetrating, stretching. Liquid fire spilled into my core as he filled me with one smooth thrust.

His steel eyes met mine and heavy breaths underscored his every word. "I can be gentle. If you want me to, I will, but . . . ."

I closed my eyes and arched up to the twisting of his hips. "Just do it, Joe. Do it as though we were in another time, another place. Don't think about anything but what we both want."

Dropping his head and giving a slight nod, he began to move, slowly at first, then building in momentum, quick and rough. His fingers dug into my thighs as he beat into me. He claimed my mouth, and the sweat rimming his upper lip made the kiss sting. I gasped into his mouth as the pain coiled with pleasure and lifted my hips to receive each thrust, taking him deeper and deeper. The swollen head of his dick hit a bundle of nerves in my core. An orgasm ripped through me, and I bit his bottom lip.

Everything inside me quivered, hypersensitive. Pleasantly sore, but I couldn't bear . . . .

He rocked his hips. I shuddered and wrapped my legs around his waist to keep him still. His thigh muscles tensed, and he shoved me onto my back, thrusting harder and harder. I whimpered as another wave of ecstasy billowed up, sweet, too sweet. A spurt of heat filled me, and I felt his dick twitch as he came inside my body.

Breathing hard, he kissed my throat, letting out a gruff laugh when I tried to wiggle out from under him. "Just give me a minute, sweetie."

Give him a minute?

I shoved his away from me and hopped off the table. Cum coated his throbbing dick, making him nice and slippery. I wrapped my hand around him and dropped to my knees. He cursed when I took him in my mouth.

Sucking hard, I grazed tight flesh with my teeth. With a growl, he took hold of my hair and rimmed me down his cock until he hit the back of my throat. I dug my nails into his ass and slicked my wet lips up, tasting his salty, thick fluid mixed with my own lighter coat. When he tried to hold me down, I gave warning with my teeth.

"God." A breath hissed through his teeth. "Stop."

His dick left my mouth with a loud pop. I swirled my tongue along the base of his crest and gazed up, smiling. "Are you sure?"

Eyes hooded, he stared at me, and then laughed. "No, damn it. It feels so good it hurts. But, seeing you like that . . . gods be damned, it's worth the pain."

Pleased with his response, I bent back down, a little gentler, wetting my lips with my tongue before I took him back in my mouth. Pushing down the flesh of his cock in a languorous motion, I sucked and circled my tongue. I could feel his pulse speed up, so I moved faster. The head of his dick swelled, and I swallowed fast, smiling when the muscles in his thighs quivered. Seconds later, he went soft under my tongue.

When I let him go, he collapsed on the bed and flopped his arm over his eyes.

Standing just long enough to pull the top of the makeshift dress over my shoulders and the bottom past my hips, I lay at his side and let him pull me into his tight embrace.

The taste of sex on my tongue became pasty and foul. I scrubbed my lips with the edge of the sheet.

Nasty. He must think I'm disgusting. What the hell's wrong with me?

I hid my head in the curve under his arm. "That didn't feel natural. I mean, it didn't feel like something I did . . . ."

Absently stroking my hair, his shoulders shifted under my head in a shrug.

"Desperate times…" He slid over and turned on his side. "Don't be ashamed. We both know why we did this. Even if only once, it's nice to have a choice."

"I'd hate to think I would have done that with whoever they stuck me with." I tilted my head, so I could see his reaction to what I'd said.

He stared at the ceiling. "Me, too."

"How come we never see them when they bring our food?" I spoke around a mouthful of chicken, the first real food we'd shared in this place. I marked my days by when I slept. Seven days, ten days? I wasn't sure.

Using his teeth to rip a large chuck of meat from the bone he held in his hand, Joe shrugged. "I assume they don't want us to. Sometimes, I feel their presence but—" He paused, noting my shiver. "They're not here now. Don't worry."

Seeing no need to argue, I simply nodded. "So, what warranted the upgrade from slop?"

Refusing to meet my steady gaze, he shrugged, taking another bite, making it obvious he had no intention of answering.

Wanting to press him further, but knowing there was no point, I filled my mouth with a forkful of potatoes dripping with butter. Real butter, not margarine, though I couldn't say how I knew the difference. The splash of liquid into the one glass set in the middle of the table, next to our one food-laden plate, brought my head up.

"Rum," Joe said, answering the question in my glance. "It's pretty good. Try some."

I took the glass, swirled the liquid around, and sniffed it. The smell was rich and made my mouth water. As soon as I took a sip, I decided I much preferred the smell to the burning taste. I set the glass back down.

Joe frowned. "You don't like rum? What do you like? There's some tequila, some schnapps . . . ."

I cocked my head. "What do I like? Hmm, let's see. The champagne at my sister's wedding was nice."

Eyes lighting up, Joe leaned over the table and took my hand. "You have a sister?

You remember?"

I jerked my hand from his grasp. "No. I
don't
remember. Please note sarcasm, sorry I left it out of the P.S."

Joe's eyes narrowed. So did mine. The silence stretched out like the taut strings of a guitar, pulling tighter and tighter. Something was going to snap.

With a deep inhale, I leaned forward and rubbed my knees. "Another quiz, prof?"

Scowling, Joe pushed away from the table. "No. Misplaced hope." Drawing in a rough exhale, he rolled his shoulders back, retaking his seat. "You should drink something."

Arching my brows, I laughed. "Why? I think it's pretty obvious you don't need to get me drunk to have some fun." I gave him a dirty look and stood, turning my back on him. "Which just might change."

Joe slammed his fist on the table, hard enough to knock the glass over. Turning, I watched the glass as it rolled off the table, hit the floor, and shattered.

"Stop acting like a damn child!" Swiveling away from me, Joe stepped over to the bed and retrieved a bottle of peach schnapps from underneath it that I hadn't known was there. Approaching me, he turned the twist cap, his hard stare never leaving my face. He shoved the bottle against my chest. "Drink."

I knocked the bottle away. "No. If I'm thirsty, I'll have water."

What happened next almost didn't make sense. Gripping my wrist so hard I could feel bruises form, Joe dragged me toward the bed. I tried to scoot away from him, but he grabbed me by the back of the neck. As he forced me down on the bed, I cried out.

Poising the bottle against my lips, he pressed the glass rim hard, trying to work it into my mouth. "I said drink!"

I turned my head, holding back the tears. "Why? Give me a reason you pushy bastard!"

Raking his fingers through my hair, Joe yanked my head back and leaned in close. "Lydia, if you want to live, you will obey me. Without question. I have my reasons. I don't choose to share them now. You'll see for yourself soon enough."

"Fuck you." Rolling to one side, I snapped my elbow into his jaw.

Blood trickled over his bottom lip. He growled and grabbed my arm before I could slip away. "So much for hoping the amnesia would take the fight out of you."

I tossed my head and sneered at him. "Ingrained in my blood, I guess."

Letting me go, he stood, took two steps away then dropped his hands to his sides. The bottle bounced against his thigh. Liquid sloshed out and splashed his jeans.

The scent of peaches wafted through the air, soft, sweet and smothering—so out of place in the tense atmosphere, I felt like gagging.

Joe took one look at my face and curled his lip. "You know what. Forget it. Don't fucking drink."

Lifting the bottle to his mouth, he gulped a hearty amount, grimaced, and set the bottle on the table. Returning to the bed, he fished out another bottle from the apparent limitless supply beneath, all the while avoiding my gaze.

I shifted on the bed, rubbing my abused wrist. "What is this? Reverse psychology?"

Doing his best to drain the mickey of whiskey in his hand, Joe didn't speak until he was forced to come up for air. "No, I just don't give a shit. If self-preservation isn't enough to make you heed me, you're on your own."

Out of sheer stubbornness, I tried not to care, but curiosity prevailed. "Self-preservation?"