Local woman killed in plane crash 11 page

Josh’s shoulders stiffened with realization. If he messed up the buyer’s meeting, if Liv was killed, Van would suffer the loss. The volatile bastard had just as much at stake.

He exhaled, “Yes, Mistress,” and recited rules one through ten slowly and carefully, imagining himself performing each one for her, trusting her not to use his obedience against him.

Her finger caressed a warm path over his knee, her body blocking her affection from Van’s predatory eyes. She removed her hand.

“Impressive.” Van rose. “Show me how he will service his Master.”

A flinch jerked Josh’s insides, but he remained outwardly still on his knees. He knew this moment would come and told himself if she could endure Van’s touch, he could, too. He waited for her command.

She reached back toward the mattress, but he couldn’t see what she grabbed. She touched his jaw. “Look at me.”

With pleasure. Connecting with her, by any means possible, would make this more bearable. As he raised his head, he leaned forward, subtly, into her personal space, inhaling the peppermint and lavender scent of her shampoo. Peering over the black kerchief, her magnetic eyes pulled him in further. Her pupils widened with an indiscernible emotion.

She held up the butt plug. “Requirement number eleven. Slave will wear and accept toys Master chooses to adorn him with.” She paused, seemed to wrestle with her words. “You can open your mouth to Van’s kiss or spread your ass for the plug. Both prepare you for your Master tomorrow, but which would please your Mistress now?” The movement of her mouth paused beneath the cloth as if she were considering the answer, but he suspected her diabolical mind had already choreographed the proceedings from beginning to end.

Van crouched behind her, his eyes alight with interest, his toothpick seemingly forgotten as it lolled in the crook of his lips.

Josh’s breaths quickened, his eyes searching hers. One flawless eye, one bruised, the surrounding skin furrowing as her eyebrows drew together. In the complexity of her gaze, he saw concern, a sense of responsibility, and maybe even possessiveness. If he read her correctly, she didn’t want Van near him. Or maybe he was just projecting his own desire.

The kiss would be the least intrusive, and if it were with any other man, it might’ve been his preference. She’d warned him the plug would be used eventually, and he’d resolved to accept it eventually.

“The plug for now.” Her tone was bored, bordering cruel, but the gentle look she shared with him helped smooth the tumble in his gut. Meanwhile, his nerves were shrieking in horror.

With a strong voice and an open expression, he embodied his consent. “Yes, Mistress.”

She and Van rose, and she angled her mouth toward Van’s ear. Whatever she whispered sent him bolting to her cabinet of tools.

Minutes later, Josh lay face down on the mattress, knees on the subfloor, arms roped around his torso, backside in the air. Shifting into his line of sight, she squirted gel from a tube over her fingers, making sure he saw her apply it to the plug.

He wished he had the tennis ball to slam against the wall and distract his impulse to scream and fight. Instead, he focused on something more soothing. Like the tender touch of her hand as it eased between his crack. The measured caress around the entrance she’d only ventured in the one time. And the fact that it was her pressing against the barrier and not the man climbing onto the mattress and reclining beside him.

Face-to-face, Van stroked the back of Josh’s head. “Relax your rectum and push against the plug. I know it’s scary, but you’re in good hands.”

He flinched inwardly, burning to crack the guy’s skull. The cold hard tip of rubber pressed against the ring of muscle. He tensed instantly then forced his butt and legs to loosen. It must’ve been the work of God that kept his heart from tearing out of his chest.

The plug inched in, stretching, burning, building a terrifying pressure. He slammed his teeth together, his breath hissing, loud and fast.

Van released a long exhale. His eyes glazed over, and the torment etching his face was startling. “I bled a lot my first time. I was young. He was…huge.” His hand cupped Josh’s nape, twitched, his gaze refocusing on Josh. “My mom didn’t keep good company. She was too blitzed to notice her companions’ interest in me.” His voice was soft, horrifyingly serious.

A sudden burn sparked in Josh’s anus, followed by a dull fullness. She rubbed his gluts as his body adjusted to the intrusion. Breath by breath, his muscles relaxed.

Her footsteps retreated, and the bathroom faucet sputtered on. His legs trembled. With relief that it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. With Van’s revelation.

Josh met his eyes and willed himself to listen if the man wanted to talk about it.

“You probably want to counsel me, yeah?” Van leaned up on his elbows and watched Liv’s approach. “She’s dragged all the messy details from me over the years. No counseling needed.”

That was debatable. She’d said there was no relationship, but they shared a history, an intimate one. Hell, they had a child. The thought turned his stomach. He resented their bond, whether or not it was fused in tragedy. Remembering them together made him sick with jealousy.

The direction of his thoughts was ludicrous in his trussed up position, face in the mattress, his rear plugged and clenching. Didn’t he have enough to worry about?

Van moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I think my girl’s going to put on a show for us.”

My girl. Jealousy burned anew, hot and painful. But she didn’t want Van. She hid in her room to escape him. The reminder cooled his blood but didn’t extinguish the nauseating pang.

She snapped her fingers and pointed to the rug by the mattress. He’d told her he trusted her intentions. Still did. He scooted backward on his knees, the plug both discomforting and oddly stimulating.

Standing before him panties gone and feet spread, she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Your eyes stay on my pussy.”

Chapter 25

Josh had seen her bared sex countless times, but he’d never stared long enough to take in the details. Out of awkwardness. Out of respect. But the mastery in her command and the potency of his arousal raised his eyes from the floor.

Wrong or not, it was a picture that would be forever branded in memory. Hairless, plump, taut flesh. The slit parted just enough to give him a glimpse of the dark, alluring depth within. When he’d washed her, he’d never ventured inside the crease. Would the delicate lips grip his finger? She was so small he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to slide his penis in there. Dear God, he wouldn’t last more than a few thrusts.

“He’s already hard.” Van’s voice held way too much awe as he crouched behind one of her spread legs and curled a hand around her thigh. His other hand held a purple silicone dildo, presumably what she’d sent him to fetch from the cabinet.

Would Van use it on her while he watched? Would the bastard have sex with her again? His heart raced, and his blood heated. Beneath the dread of Van’s participation was a selfish hope that she would masturbate right there, so close to his face.

She took the dildo from Van and held it to Josh’s lips. “Wet it.”

His inhibitions fled as her free hand slid between her legs, fingers separating the folds and disappearing inside. He licked the silicone with a dry mouth, tried to gather spit, and spread it over the tip. The glide of her fingers between her slit and the hitch in her breath melted his body into a thrumming pulse of need.

At the edge of Josh’s periphery, Van shifted stiffly, angled toward her, his breaths quickening.

She turned, kneeling on the mattress, and thrust her beautiful heart-shaped rear so close to Josh’s face, he could see the freckle in the crease between her cheek and thigh. But the freckle faded next to the sinful view of her sex splitting her from anus to clitoris.

The smooth arches of her cheeks curved into the divide and led to folds of skin so pink and velvety and enthralling. A rush of wet air whistled past his teeth. The pulse in his erection intensified, quivering sensations through his body. He jerked his arms in the restraints and tried to distract his lust with rules. No talking. No masturbating. No coming. He groaned.

How was this training? Perhaps over time, he’d learn to hate it or resent her for putting him through it. Was that even possible?

She lowered her forehead to the mattress and reached the dildo between her spread thighs. The tip separated her folds, the soft-looking skin clinging to the silicone as it slid in, inch by inch. Sweat slicked his palms. The rope dug into his heaving chest.

She withdrew the toy, slid it back in. Out. In. The dildo glistened with her moisture, filling the room with a sucking sound as her channel swallowed it greedily. It was torture. It was beautiful. He wanted to put his mouth on her, his cock in her. He burned to know how deep he could go, how fast he could thrust, how long he could hold on while staring into her eyes and tasting her lips.

The pull of a zipper sounded beside him. Josh kept his eyes on Liv but could make out the movements of Van pushing down his jeans and taking himself in hand.

No. No, not Van. Not with her. Rage boiled to the surface, straining his muscles, searing his skin. He ground his teeth, seething to chase Van from the room. He couldn’t do this, dammit. Not again. His arms twisted in the rope. He had to get free, to protect her, to fight for her.

A grunt muffled beside him, followed by a shouted exhale. Van jerked, shoulders twitching, and groaned out a sigh.

Josh was, at once, relieved and revolted by Van’s orgasm. But how quickly would he be ready to go again?

Her dark eyes flickered over her shoulder, skimming over Van’s groin, and collided with Josh’s gaze. There was a softening in her expression, in the skin exposed above the kerchief, as she accelerated the strokes of the dildo. The shared eye contact made him want to hold her tight and glide his length deep, their bodies so close, so intimate, he would learn everything about her. Every bump and turn inside. Every dream, every secret, hidden away in every nook and crevice of her heart. He craved that knowledge more than he’d ever craved anything in his life. He craved her.

His hips rocked, his erection stabbing the air, the plug sharpening the sensations. She flexed her pelvis, riding the dildo in sync with his movements. Their eyes held, her desire feeding his. Veins pulsed in his cock, his arousal coiling, straining, unable to reach the relief he so desperately needed. He couldn’t come without stimulation. He couldn’t come without permission.

She blinked at Van, back to him. Josh’s body shuddered. His penis ablaze, it swelled further, stretching painfully.

“Hey,” Van said gently, touching his leg, shooting electric sparks over his oversensitive skin. “Let me help you.”

Josh glanced down at his shockingly red and swollen erection jutting from beneath the ropes, his balls so tight they’d disappeared into his body. His brain muddled, and his body overheated. Was this the plan? Work him up to the point that he’d accept Van’s touch?

He raised his head, meant to search her eyes, but couldn’t see past the drugging beauty of her flesh wrapped around the thrusting dildo.

God forgive him, he jerked his chin up and down, breathless, lost to lust, crazed in his urgency to climax.

“Open your mouth.” Van’s words breathed in his ear. “Accept my kiss.”

Anything to keep that man away from her. He stretched his jaw, instantly, wantonly, his butt flexing around the plug. Lips captured his, tongues whipping and battling for control. Exhales pummeling in the hot trap of their sealed mouths. Van’s breath was sour and terrifyingly sweet. They kissed like they would fight. Rough, merciless, impassioned. And seething with rage.

A large hand gripped his erection, and he surged up on his knees, slamming his cock into the clench of fingers. With Van’s head angled to the side, Josh kept his eyes glued on her clasp of skin as it stretched around the toy. Was she imagining the dildo was him?

He thrust his hips, having sex with her in his mind, panting noisily, his peak coiling tighter and tighter. Almost there—

“You will not come.” Her voice rasped at the edge of his awareness.

Frustration slammed into his gut. The hand on his cock was an extension of his own hand, stroking him at a hard and consistent pace. The tongue in this mouth shoved and licked.

He hung on the precipice, balancing, trembling to rush forward. Her command was unbearable. No coming without permission. No coming without— Ughhh, her pink folds looked so wet, her toned thighs flexing, her fingered grip on the dildo blanching her knuckles. He wasn’t going to make it. He tensed against it. Focused on the heat of Van’s mouth, the coarse stubble scratching over his jaw.

“Come, boy.” She panted. “Come for your Mistress.”

Her command tore the orgasm from every frenzied nerve inside him, surging forth in powerful, shivering waves. He rocked into the fist around his cock, his fingers digging into the rope on his torso, pressing into the man’s mouth on his, and moaned a hoarse, strained exhale.

His body tingled, trembled, sighed. He collapsed, shoulders deflating, the plug pressing against his heels, throbbing to the beat of his blood.

She set the dildo aside, squatted before him, and removed the cloth from her face. Van raised his arm, his wrist striped with come, and licked it clean in one swipe.

Josh shuddered. Seriously, that was jacked up.

Van held out his tongue, lathered in semen, and leaned toward Liv.

What the unholy hell? She wouldn’t. No way.

Her moment of hesitation passed quickly. She caught his jaw between her hands and drew his tongue into her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut.

Every muscle in Josh’s body stiffened, the urge to interfere overwhelming. He trusted her intentions. She was playing a game. He bit down on his cheek and waited.

When Van’s hand shoved between her thighs, his fingers slipping inside her, Josh jerked forward.

She broke the kiss, caught Van’s wrist, and pushed his hand away. “Thanks for the burgers, Van.” She rose, gathered up the trash, and entered the code at the door.

A red flush stormed over Van’s expression. He stood, yanking his jeans into place, and strode toward her, his voice low. “You’re sleeping with me. Get him out of the ropes. I’ll wait.”

Chapter 26

Fear, anger, and jealousy stormed through Josh, pulling at his insides and squeezing his ribs tight. He strained his eyes to keep his chin down while glaring over his shoulder.

Liv’s arms lolled at her sides, her head tilted up, her face a blank canvas. “Another time, Van. I’m working.” She smiled, but it was tight at the corners. “You owe me an orgasm. Don’t think I won’t collect.”

Van raised his hand, caught a few strands of her loose hair in his fist, and yanked. His eyes flicked to Josh.

Crap. Josh dropped his gaze, praying he didn’t rouse suspicion about his obedience.

“Okay, Liv.” Van sighed, his voice tired. “Get through the meeting tomorrow. Then come to me.”

The unmistakable smack of lips followed, colliding with wet sucking sounds. The door clicked shut.

The gravity of what Josh had just participated in settled like lead in his gut. The burger and fries gurgled to come up. He jumped to his feet. “He needs a damned padded room.”

She slumped against the door, her stoic mask falling away, exposing the heartbreaking expression of a trapped woman. Her eyes fluttered shut.

He moved to her, the rope web pulling on his thighs, the plug rubbing sore tissues. He leaned into her space, frustrated he couldn’t hold her, and pressed his forehead against hers. “It worked, at least.”

“For now. We still have to get through tomorrow.”

And the next nine weeks. He inhaled the scent of her skin at her temple and let her closeness soothe his nerves.

“Do you resent what I did tonight?” Her voice was small, unsteady.

His sins were mounting. Of course, he hadn’t been given a choice, but he orgasmed in another man’s fist. Did it really matter in the scope of their situation? “No, Liv. You got me past some pretty big barriers. If I hadn’t been so horny for you—” he dropped his head on her shoulder, laughed, groaned “—that would’ve gone much worse.” He straightened and looked into her eyes. “What was the semen-licking thing about?”

A ragged sigh pushed past her lips. “It’s his thing. He does it during training sessions. In the past, it wasn’t a battle I’d chosen to fight. Changing that tonight would’ve stirred up questions about us.”

Us. The sound of that stirred up all kinds of questions. But that was for another time.

Her hand traveled over his backside and gripped the plastic base of the plug. She leaned up and bit his lip as she pulled it out with one tug.

He blew out a breath, the muscles in his backside clenching away the tension. But his relief was accompanied by a flush that spread through his body. She’d awoken something in him, and he wanted…more. He followed her to the sink.

She washed the plug and tackled his ropes. As the knots loosened so did his knees. He leaned his butt against the edge of the vanity and relaxed into the satiny feel of her hands trailing over his chest.

Her breasts swayed beneath the movements of her toned arms as she freed each length of rope. He wanted to lean in and lick her parted lips. He wanted to lick her everywhere, and his penis responded immediately to that thought. Her gaze lowered to his glaring arousal, and a slow smile built on her gorgeous face. She flicked her eyes to his and shook her head, grinning.

“I wasn’t like this before I met you.” He laughed. It was kind of true.

“Bullshit. You just wore a jockstrap to keep your endless boners tucked away.”

“Actually—” he puffed his chest defensively “—I tucked it into the waistband of my briefs.”

A laugh bubbled from her, and she tossed the last of the ropes on the floor. “Let’s take a shower, you dirty boy.”

Showering with her was a thrilling mix of gratification and torture. He knelt at her feet, caressing soap along the contours of her slender body. Every curve he stroked reminded him how desperately he wanted her. His breaths quickened, and his hands lingered on her inner thighs, his erection oh-so painfully aware of her naked proximity.

His fingers ached with the need to touch her breasts. So he did with a lather of bubbles and a devoted hand. He was in love with her body, the perfect size of her chest, the dramatic dip of her waist, the pink flesh between her legs. Simply watching her stirred a shiver of pleasure through his groin and a fluttering feeling near his heart.

There was nowhere in the world he’d rather be than on his knees, worshiping her body. It felt…right. The thought should’ve made his blood run cold. Instead, it flooded his chest with a fulfilling warmth.

When they finished the shower, they turned off the lights and collapsed on the mattress.

He pulled her back to his chest and hooked an arm around her waist, her clean minty scent clearing his head. He’d become accustomed to her nudity, but with both of them bare in this position, it felt new, intense. Her belly warm beneath his hand, her feet sliding over his shins, he couldn’t quiet the endless stirring he felt in her presence.

“You’re hard.” There was a smile in her voice.

“You’re naked. And I’m going to burn in hell.”

Her musical laugh lifted through the darkness. “For snuggling with the devil?”

“The devil with the voice and heart of an angel.” He buried his nose in the soft damp strands of her hair. “I want you so damned much, Liv.”

The curve of her body along the length of his lay motionless, unresponsive.

How many times had a captive made the same declaration to her? Damn his big mouth. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to—”

“You don’t want me.” Her whisper cracked. “You want…someone who deserves you.”

An ache tightened his chest. He heard her. Not her words but her. For a fraction of a moment, he heard the girl he’d been searching for. The girl who yearned to be loved. “Will you do something for me?”

She tensed against him.

He caressed his hand from her belly to her breastbone and settled it over the galloping beat of her heart. “When it’s just you and me, lose all those guarded layers. Let me see you.” He raised up on his elbow and strained his eyes through the dark to make out the outline of her face. “Don’t hide this from me.” He tapped the spot over her heart.

A noise hitched in her throat. “It’s ugly in there, decayed by lies and shame, endlessly bleeding for all the lives I’ve ruined. You’re the eighth reason I don’t deserve affection.”

Eight slaves worth of guilt. He wanted to ask where they were, if she could trace their buyers. But those questions would derail the conversation and dredge up the one thing they hadn’t discussed. His future. “That’s not who you are, Liv.”

“Don’t do this.”

The anguish in her whisper gutted him. He pushed through it. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t make me feel things for you.” Her voice rattled. “It will end badly.”

So much fear and hurt. He wanted to take it from her, longed to heal her. But she needed to open herself up and let him in. “You think having feelings for someone puts them in danger?” He was in danger whether she cared for him or not.

Her breaths quickened.

“Did you have a relationship with any of the others?” Had she fallen for a captive and sold him into slavery? No amount of praying could have prepared him for the answer.

“I’ve never been in love.” A weighted exhale. “And I’ve only had sex with one person in my life.”

His pulse spiked. She’d told him her original buyer hadn’t touched her before he tested and rejected her, but the rest? No sex with slaves? No dating between captives? Maybe he should’ve been relieved, but all he could feel was outrage. The only intimacy she’d known was with a person who coerced her, raped her, and beat her. “Do not let him dictate your self-worth, Liv.”

Her entire body went rigid. “Do not preach your self-righteous bullshit. This is not a therapy session.”

Though her reaction made his hands curl into fists, he knew he’d plucked a nerve. It was progress. With regard to her irritation, he could fix that.

He rolled her to her back and took her mouth, tasting the mint of her toothpaste, relishing the instant stretch of her jaw. She welcomed him with a heated gasp and a teasing tongue, swirling and whipping and stealing his breaths. He ran his hands down her arms, up her ribs, lifting and kneading the fullness of her breasts.

She licked and sucked his lips, shooting tingles across his skin. Her fingertips grazed the arch of his butt and brushed a trail of warmth along his spine. Each of her caresses, every breath of her attention, flowed through him and settled between his legs, aching, hardening, needing. Too soon, she tried to lean back and break the kiss.

He surged forward, deepening the reach of his tongue, clinging to the connection, wanting more, wanting all of her. “Let me inside of you.” He rocked his erection against her thigh, groaning, wanting in her so badly. “Please, Liv.”

“No.” Her tone was a sharp prick. The rejection cut.

He dropped his face against her neck, moaned. There were dozens of reasons why she would refuse him. He needed to know her reason. “Tell me why.”

She pushed on his chest until he conceded a few inches of space. “I’ve been where you are. I gave the wrong person my virginity and have resented him every second since.” Her hand cupped his jaw and fell away.

He had a long way to go on salvaging her self-worth if she put herself in the same category as Van. “Fine, Liv.” He blew out a breath. “We’ll work on righting your perceptions.”

“We’re not—”

He pressed two fingers over her lips. “Let me touch you. I’ve been here eight days and haven’t seen you orgasm once.” He released her mouth to trace the line of her neck.

“Just hold me?” Her request was tender in its delivery, but potent in its significance.

“Gladly.” He curled around her back and tucked a knee between her legs. His hand on her breast, his heart paced in tune with hers.

Holding her, melding with her, his virginity felt so inconsequential. This connection extended far beyond a physical union. He’d give her anything. He wanted to give her everything.

“Liv?”

“Mm.”

“You said there were twelve requirements. You’ve only given me eleven.”

She laced her fingers through his and held their hands to her chest. “Requirement number twelve. Slave will not sleep in Master’s bed.”

His laugh coaxed hers, and they tumbled into comfortable silence.

The ceiling’s A/C vent breathed a steady whoosh. He tried to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t shut off as he traced through the events of the night. “You awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did Van pull out your hair?”

A sigh. “It’s his thing.”

It was a common occurrence? “He has a lot of things.”

“You have no idea.” She wiggled her back closer against his chest. “Go to sleep. We’ve got a four hour drive tomorrow.”

The meeting with the buyer. He would leave the attic, taunted with freedom, enchained by the threat on her life.

Chapter 27

Crack.

Liv raised the four-foot stock whip, the rigid handle sweaty in her palm, her stomach twisting. They had to leave for the meeting in one hour.

She swung again. Crack.

He flattened his hands on the wall, feet spread on the subfloor, and accepted each strike with a twitch in his sculpted back. No chains, no clothes, no words. When she’d told him she had to mark him, he’d stripped wordlessly and gripped the nearest wall. The knot in her gut doubled.

Mr. E had taught Van the art of whip cracking, and they used her body as Van’s cutting target. Van eventually passed the skill to her. But it didn’t matter if she was on the end of the handle or the fall, she had never experienced the kind of trust evidenced in the relaxed muscles before her.

That he would find credibility in her despite the cruelty she’d inflicted upon him twisted her insides.

She snapped back the single tail, popped it forward, and let the fall lash his upper thigh. Crack.

His legs trembled and his back rippled, but he refused to move, bound by trust alone.

Her heart squeezed, but she kept the whip moving over her shoulder, elbow in. A hairpin wave uncurled like an extension of her arm. Crack.

Another welt joined the others striping his back, ass, and thighs. His head dipped between his braced arms, the hair at his nape damp with sweat.

She swung her arm back. Held it.

Every strike left a new scar inside her. No more. She dropped the whip, her blood beating cold. “I’m done.”

Turning, he closed the distance, cupped her jaw, and rested a hand on her hip. “I’m kind of starting to like those feverish little love taps.”

A glimpse of his erection confirmed it. “Kind of starting? You’ve been getting stiffies under my whip since day one.” If he weren’t locked in her room, facing an unknown future, maybe she wouldn’t feel so sick about her part in it. Maybe she would wrap her legs around his waist and fuck him like she’d wanted to the moment she first saw him.

But he deserved a good, clean girl. She drew in a slow breath and raised her eyes.

His smile creased his clean-shaven complexion, lighting up the pale glow of his green eyes and chasing away some of her overflowing guilt. It also wobbled her footing as his Mistress.

She glared at him, her insides melting under the warmth of his affection. “Remove your hand from my face, boy.”

“What’s your last name?” His hand dropped, but only as far as the bust of her corset, fingertips caressing the pillow of her breasts above the binding. He bit his lip, watching her with a lopsided grin.

Fuck her, he was so damned charming. She emptied her expression. “I’ll break your fingers.”

He arched a challenging eyebrow.

She arched one in return.

He ducked his head and took her mouth, lips brushing, tongue teasing, flicking, kindling a slow-burning fire. His hands traveled around her ribs and clutched her back, tugging her close. He ate at her mouth, and she met him lick for lick.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 467