Deadly Captive (6 page)

One finger delved between slippery folds and coaxed me up to tender ecstasy.

My hips bucked, and my body tipped into a cushion of bliss.

"That's my girl." Joe gave my pussy one last kiss and shifted away from me.

"Now, sit up, and lift your arms. I want to see that beautiful body."

Every inch of me shook as I complied. He quickly stripped me and eased me down. I could feel him hard and ready against my hip as he stretched out beside me.

His hand curved under my breast as he lifted it to his mouth. He sucked at my nipple, and my feet slid restlessly on the sheets, bunching them under my thighs.

"Joe, please." My hips lifted, and then my ass smacked the floor when they fell hard. "I need you."

A sweaty palm covered my neglected breast. His breath came out in rapid bursts as he kissed my throat. "Say it again."

I reached out and found his shoulder, his neck. I dug my fingers into corded muscles. "Take me, Joe. I need you inside me."

His hand slide down to my hip, and he turned me on my side. Then his hand drifted further, hooking behind my knee to pull my leg up to his waist. "Don't move. I won't last long if you move. Pretend the heat of the desert drained us both."

I held still as his dick pressed between my thighs, sliding over the melting sheath that wanted to envelop him. He dragged back and forth, over and over until I hissed in protest. His hand slipped between us, and I felt his fist around his dick, guiding him to my slit. His mouth devoured mine in time with one smooth thrust.

Stretched around him like a wet glove, I guided my senses inward, tensing and relaxing, exploring him as thoroughly as if it was my fingers that held him. I squeezed harder, and he jerked against me.

"Jesus, Lydia. Give me a minute."

"All that teasing and
you
need a minute?" I tipped my head and caught his bottom lip between my teeth. The sharp taste of blood told me I'd bitten him a little too hard, and I salved the wound with my tongue. "Sorry about that."

"Sorry? Do you have any idea how much restraint it took to watch you writhing under me, filling the air with the luscious scent of your arousal, and not take you?" He dragged himself to the brink, then tormented me with several shallow thrusts. "Nothing has ever pushed me so far past the reaches of my control as you do. And it's control that's kept me alive." He gathered my hair in a fist and twisted it around his wrist. The blindfold slipped off my eyes, and I dropped into the hot pit of his gaze. "You'll be the death of me."

"No." I cupped his jaw, caressing the firm muscles with my fingers. "We're safe, here, together. Close your eyes, and see the place you've brought me to."

"Yes." He closed his eyes and ground his hips against mine.

"The only danger is the sun, but your oasis is a sanctuary from the last threat the world can ever hold over us." My hand slipped from his jaw to his neck, massaged muscles that felt like leather-encased steel. "Hear the lap of the water. Breathe in the crisp air, a blessing after the suffocating heat."

He moved then, a little faster, deeper, plunged into my body with nothing held back. His body, slick with sweat, slid against mine. The weight of his balls bumped my thighs, and I could feel his heartbeat as he swelled within. A gruff sound in his throat told me he'd released more than he'd intended. His thrusts became erratic, and he tried to stop. I dropped my hand to his ass and drew him over the edge.

His legs wrapped around mine. He threw his head back. His control spilled in a hot blast, scorching my core.

Satisfaction filled me as the silken ribbons of my inner muscles milked the last of his resistance. Part of me throbbed, so close to the violent release he'd intended, but it was soothed by the thrill of conquest. This man was mine.

When he could breathe again, he rolled me over, our bodies still connected in the most vital way. The blindfold was ripped away. "You didn't."

I didn't need to ask what he meant. "It's okay."

"No. It isn't." He withdrew, flipped me over, and jabbed inside with one fierce thrust. "They'll use your pleasure to torture you as cruelly as they use your pain. Don't give them the edge." Tugging me to my knees, he moved with precise, pounding thrusts and reached between my thighs to stimulate my clit. "It's mine."

The possessiveness of his tone propelled me into rapture even faster than the brutal force that my body seemed to crave. I could tell he wouldn't be hard much longer, but I was close. So close.

"Now, Lydia." A feral growl ripped out of his throat. "Come now!"

I screamed and clawed at the sheets, at the floor. The orgasm tore through me, the explosion he'd wanted to feel from within. My bones seemed to melt, and only his arms wrapped tight around my chest kept me from collapsing face first on the floor. He went slack and slipped out of me.

The room came into focus, and my breath hitched. I couldn't reject reality by squeezing my eyes shut; it jarred into my mind with vicious insistence. I couldn't be in that wonderful place with Joe. I was stuck here.

Joe picked me up and carried me to the bed. He retrieved the sheets and covered me with them, petting my hair until I got hold of myself and looked at him.

"There are other places I want to bring you." His gaze fixed on the wall over my head. "I know it changes nothing, but do you want me to tell you about them?"

Clinging to the sheets, scooting up to rest my head on his thigh, I nodded.

"Please." I managed to choke back a sob before he could hear it. "Just take me anywhere but here."

"Do you know I've drained this bottle three times?" I lifted the bottle of tequila, the liquor that hit me the hardest and thus the one I was most determined to master.

"Every time I put it away and go to sleep—"

Joe sighed, looking over from where he'd been sitting in the corner in a lotus position, trying to drop into a soothing trance. "You mean pass out."

I frowned at him and took a nice deep gulp of tequila. "Sleep," I said stubbornly.

"I get up, and it's full again. Like magic."

Giving up on his meditation, Joe stood and walked over. He snatched the bottle and helped himself to a mouthful before he spoke. "It's not magic. They come in and replace it. There's no great mystery involved."

I giggled and slapped my hand over my mouth. Fighting back more giggles, I tried to look serious as I met his so-not-amused gaze. "So, they come in here and don't try to eat us?" I blushed, the words making me think of what Joe had done to me just the other night. "Not that I don't like it. I do . . . well, when you . . . ."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Were you getting to a point?"

With another attempt at seriousness, I nodded. "Yes. I was just wondering. Why don't they bite us?" I grinned and stood, wobbling as I grabbed the bottle from him and toasted my sheer brilliance. "It's all the alcohol! They must not like it."

Letting out an irritated groan, Joe took the bottle and slammed it down on the table. He swooped me up into his arms, carried me over to the bed, and dropped me on it. "They like it just fine. If they didn't like it, the alcohol wouldn't be here. They probably approve of your attempts at mastering drunkenness."

I looked at the bottle morosely, decided it was too far away, and lay back. "Them happy. We live. Works for me."

Joe grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Well, it doesn't work for me. What if we have an opportunity to escape? You understand the need to stay in good shape, at least when you get past your hangovers. What do you not understand about the fact that dragging you along with me, piss-drunk, when the chance comes, will get us both killed?"

I wrenched out of his grasp, suddenly stone sober. Damn him for killing my buzz. "It's not going to happen, Joe. They're gonna use us up until they get bored. And then they'll kill us."

Bracing his fist against the bed, Joe dropped his head. "Are you giving up?"

I shrugged. Abruptly depressed, I began to push off the bed. "Why not? Feeling sorry for myself will be fun. Maybe if I give up, they'll get it over with."

Joe latched onto my wrist, swung me around, and jerked me back against his chest. Placing one hand on my chin and the other on my forehead, he tensed his muscles. "Tell me now, Lydia."

I tried to struggle, tried to use my usually infallible technique. Joe's solid grip held me still, and, though my head had cleared, my body was suffering from the effects of the alcohol. "Let me go."

Pressing his face against my hair, I could feel Joe shake his head. "No. I'm not going to watch them tear you apart. If you don't want to live, then at least give me the mercy of seeing it done quickly. Please don't make me watch that, Lydia. I can't—" His voice broke off in what sounded like a sob. But it couldn't be. Not from Joe. Joe was strong; he was emotional steel. He was what I wanted to be when I was lying in bed, weeping over the past I didn't have. He always held me, told me it was okay, that I had every right to cry. I thought I was pathetic. I didn't want to be a weak, broken thing soaked in tears. But Joe was my rock. I was sure he'd never break.

I'd just found a crack.

"Joe, let me go." I made the words as soft and gentle as I could.

Joe eased his grip, but didn't release me. "Not unless you promise. Promise me you'll hold on. Just a little longer, Lydia. I swore I'd find a way."

Relaxing back against him, I nodded. "I promise."

Joe dropped his hands. I examined his face, shocked. There were no tears, but his eyes were wet. I collapsed against his chest, relieved when he enfolded me in his arms.

He whispered into my hair. "Don't ever do that again."

I shook my head as I held it against his chest. "I won't."

We both stiffened at the sound of clapping.

Cyrus stepped into the room, grinning broadly. "Fabulous. That was quite a show."

Three men stood behind him. Three. My breath caught. I imagined what they would do. I wasn't sure I'd survive it.

Cyrus gestured at Joe. "Boys, if you would."

The three men passed Cyrus, coming to the bed. Two of them grabbed Joe; the third grabbed me. Wrestling fiercely to free himself, Joe went still when Cyrus stood in front of him.

"Would you have done it, Joe? Would you have killed her?" Cyrus asked.

Joe bared his teeth. "In a heartbeat."

Nodding, Cyrus walked around Joe, and then reached out to take my hand. The man who'd retrained me stepped aside. Cyrus bent down to kiss my forehead. "I've missed you, Lydia. It's been a while." He nodded back at Joe. "So, what do you think of that? He was ready to snap your neck."

I lifted my chin and glared at him. "And I love him for it."

At a sound from Joe, strangled and desperate, I looked his way. He seemed shocked, then horrified. He shook his head. "Lydia, no! Don't! You don't know what you're saying . . . ."

Creasing my brow, I shook my head back at him. I didn't get it. Why did it matter? Why would they care?

"Now, this is very interesting." Cyrus looked thrilled. "And sweet, Lydia." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Do you think he loves you too? Shall we ask him?"

"No! I don't love her! She is nothing to me!" Joe strained against the grip on his arms, his tone contradicting his words.

Cyrus nodded and shrugged. Reaching under his red velvet coat, he pulled out a curved dagger and brought the blade to my throat. I hissed in a sharp breath. "If she means nothing to you, I'll dispose of her now."

I closed my eyes. The blade lifted, just a bit. I knew he was poising for a clean slit.

"No! Damn you, Cyrus!" Rage growled deep in Joe's throat, making his voice almost inhuman.

I held my breath. Cyrus held the dagger still against my flesh.

"Well, what is it, Joe? Do you love her or not? Do you love her despite her indulgence in alcohol? Despite her whining and ceaseless chatter?" Cyrus laughed.

"Because I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

Joe looked away from Cyrus and met my gaze. The answer was there, in the steel depths of his eyes. I saw pain there as well. But not physical. He was afraid of what would happen when he answered. "I love her because of it. Because of all her weakness and strength. Because, even with all the loss she's endured, she finds reasons to live. To survive."

He faced Cyrus. "With all you've done, I've craved your death, Cyrus, sworn I would see you pay. Know now, for this, I will see you suffer."

The threat made Cyrus grin. "Delightful. I do hope you get the chance to attempt it, Joe. But for now, how about I earn your vengeance."

The man that had held me retrieved the leather restraint jacket from under the bed. Cyrus held me as the three men forced it on Joe and dragged him back to the wall, chaining him there. Cyrus watched them, waiting until the men had secured the chains.

Turning his back on Joe, Cyrus smiled at me. "You must be curious, child. Do you have any idea what I will do to you?"

Licking my lips, I looked at the other men. Inhaling slowly, I swallowed and nodded.

Cyrus followed my gaze and laughed. "Oh, that will certainly be on the menu.

Soon, I think. But not tonight. Tonight is for a different kind of pleasure." Taking hold of the collar of my dress, he pulled it tight and sliced through the material with his dagger.

The cloth fell to my feet. Hand around my neck, he forced me to my knees. Looking down at me, he shook his head and sighed. "So pretty. Beautiful even. Such flawless white flesh." The edge of the blade nicked my cheek. "I do hope the scarring isn't too bad."

My blood seeped out of the shallow cut and dripped onto his wrist. I fought to stand as he slashed the dagger down the other side of my face. I hissed in pain, and then choked on a sob.

Cyrus shoved me back and eyed me as I slid over to the wall, flicking out his tongue to clean the blade. I pressed my hands to my face, trying to stem the flow of blood. Hearing a grunt from Joe, I looked at him and saw he'd been gagged. Everything became very clear. I wasn't the one they wanted to make suffer. This was all about Joe.

Rising to my feet, I dropped my fists, slick with my own blood, to my sides. The serrated skin on my cheeks stung, but it was nothing I couldn't deal with. In a way, it made me feel stronger, made me feel as though nothing they did could touch me. Now I had to find a way to convince Joe.