by Opal Carew
“That he’ll rape you?” His pelvis rocked against her.
Alarm vaulted through her. She’d ridden with this man all afternoon and had started feeling safe with him. Then they’d had sex against a tree, which had been wild and exciting.
Now, though, he felt… menacing.
She remembered Rip’s warning as she’d sped away on Killer’s bike.
His hands slid to the base of her neck and she sucked in a breath, drawn deeper into his intense eyes.
“That he’ll kill you?” he asked, his words slicing through her.
Her heart pounded faster. His fingers curled lightly around her throat. Her breath caught as she imagined his fingers closing around her neck and tightening. Squeezing the life from her.
She could read nothing in his eyes. Was he the type of man who could kill? Would he murder her here on the spot, then leave her lifeless body behind?
She knew that Rip and the men he rode with were capable of murder. Not for the first time she worried that she’d put herself in more danger than she’d run from with this man.
Then he glided his fingertips up her neck in a gentle caress, totally throwing her off balance.
“Or are you afraid of falling in love?”
Confusion coiled through her.
She had thought she was in love with Rip, and of course that made her afraid. How could she love a man like that?
“I think you’re afraid of all three.” He dragged a fingertip across her check, sending shivers through her. He searched her eyes. “You have a lot of healing to do.”
“Healing?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“That’s why you’re here on the island, isn’t it?” He searched her eyes with that compelling gaze of his. “Whatever it is you’re afraid of, you need to come face-to-face with it.”
“And that’s what you’ll do? Force me to face my fears?”
He shrugged. “I won’t force you to do anything. You’ll either face them, here on the island, or you’ll run away. Just like you did before. It’s your choice.”
He leaned in close and her heart pounded.
“I do want to help you, though.” His lips turned up in a predatory smile. “We just need to set some expectations.”
She leaned back against the hard wall, wanting a little distance. “Like what?”
“Well, I’m not going to murder you.”
“Th-that’s good.”
He leaned in closer. “And I won’t rape you.” His feral smile spread wider. “Not for real anyway. But I’ll make it seem real, if that’s what you’d like.”
Her insides heated and she could imagine him ripping her clothes away and thrusting into her. He’d pin her hands above her head and drive into her with savage force. Her pulse pounded in her ears and the yearning inside her was so strong, her knees went weak. She fought back the intense desire, hoping to keep some sense of sanity, but she wanted to feel his big cock inside her again so badly.
Then slowly the curl of his lips flattened. “And I won’t fall in love with you. I’m not the type.”
He eased back a bit and she felt like she was losing him. She didn’t want him to stop this.
“What if I want you to force me?” She licked her lips. “What if I want you to—?”
She wasn’t quite sure why she’d said it, or how she’d been going to finish that sentence, because his feral eyes sharpened and he shoved her back against the stone wall, his pelvis thrust tight against her. She gasped at the feel of his hard bulge against her belly. Hardening. Growing.
He grabbed her arms and pushed them over her head, then pinned her wrists with one, strong hand, just as she’d imagined. He unfastened his jeans, the zipper dragging down in a ragged sound,
“Wait, I—”
But his mouth covered hers, his tongue driving deep, stopping her words. Her jaw ached, forced wide as he explored her mouth with deep strokes.
She felt his hand glide up her thigh, wild sensations shivering through her at his touch. His fingertips slid along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, under her skirt.
She shook her head, jarring his tongue from her mouth. Or was that an illusion and he’d merely chosen to release her.
“What about…” She sucked in a breath. “A safe word?”
“There’s no safe word here.” He thrust his hips forward, his hard cock ramming against her. “This is real life.”
She felt his fingers glide over her mound, then she gasped as he tore away her bikini bottoms. He was so big. So intimidating. Panic welled in her as the hard tip of his cock pressed against her, ready to drive deep.
“No,” she cried.
She expected his thick shaft to drive into her in a hard, rough thrust. Filling her deep. Stretching her almost painfully.
And she ached to feel it again, despite her protest. But he didn’t. As hard and ready as his cock was, he simply stared at her for a moment longer, his wolf-like eyes piercing through her, then he released her hands and stepped back. She stumbled, but he grabbed her shoulders and steadied her before she fell.
Then he turned away.
“Let me know when you’ve figured out what you really want.”
He closed the barred door behind him, leaving her alone in the cold cell.
* * *
Marissa was tired. More tired than she’d ever been.
She picked up her bikini bottoms from the floor and examined them. He hadn’t actually torn the fabric. The strings on the sides had just pulled open. She tied them again and pulled on the bottoms, then walked to the cot in the corner and sat down. How had she wound up here? Locked in a cell somewhere in the wilderness on this island paradise. No one knew where she was, or how to find her.
She was so confused. She’d been running from Rip, trying to escape him, but maybe it was this man she should be afraid of. She was essentially his prisoner.
But he’d stopped when she’d wanted him to. And earlier he’d offered to take her back to Eden.
Was he just playing a game of cat and mouse? Give her a false sense of security, thinking she was safe with him? Would he suddenly turn things around and take her against her will?
She doubted it. Because she wanted him with a hunger that burned deep through her soul.
What kind of idiot was she that she was attracted to these dangerous, uncaring men.
But right now, all she could think about was Killer’s cock pressed against her soft folds. And how much she’d wanted him to drive deep inside her. How much she’d wanted him to pound her hard against that stone wall, her wrists pinned in his powerful grasp.
She ached inside as she remembered his big cock driving into her, pumping in and out until she’d screamed his name in ecstasy.
If she wasn’t locked in this cell, she knew she’d go running to find him. She would probably beg him to take her. To satisfy this burning need within her.
The only light in the cell was from a small barred window near the ceiling, so as the sun set, the cell grew dark. She lay down and fell into a fitful sleep.
She awoke when fingers of light stroked across her eyelids. She blinked and sat up, glancing around the cell. She smelled the unmistakable aroma of bacon and her stomach grumbled. She was hungry, and she had to pee. When would Killer return and let her out?
She stood up and walked to the door. She wrapped her hands around the bars and peered out, ready to call his name. But the door moved a little. Startled, she pulled on the bars and the door swung toward her.
It wasn’t locked?
She stepped out of the cell and glanced down the dingy hall. She walked past the door they’d entered last evening and headed for the stairway at the end of the hall. She walked up the narrow steps and opened the door at the top. The bright sunlit room she entered was a sharp contrast to the dimly lit basement. She blinked, getting used to the brightness, and saw she was in a luxurious living area with comfy chairs and a couch, and a big window overlooking the ocean beyond. The sunlight glittering on the waves w
ashing onto the white sandy beach.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Killer’s voice startled her and she turned to see him standing in a doorway holding two plates. Her nostrils flared, drawing in the delightful aroma of the bacon strips lying beside fluffy scrambled eggs. He walked toward a table, set for two, and set the plates down. There was orange juice and a pot of coffee on the table.
“I thought I’d have to come and drag you out of that cell. I was surprised you chose to spend the night there.” He sat down at the table and poured coffee into the two cups.
“I didn’t choose. I was—” She bit back the rest of her sentence. “At least, I thought I was locked in.”
“But you weren’t.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me think I was locked in.”
“I didn’t make you think or do anything.”
“But you knew I would assume…”
“Do you want to go through life making assumptions that keep you locked in a little box?”
She frowned. “It’s hard to question everything,” she said defensively.
“And equally difficult to question nothing.” He tilted his head. “You need to make your own way in life. Make decisions based on what you want. Stop blaming others or circumstances for your unhappiness. It’s only you who truly has control of your own life.”
Anger sliced through her. Who was this man to judge her? She raised her hand and swung it to slap him across the face, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted it around, using her own momentum to send her sprawling onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her arms pinned to her side.
“Now you will sit down and eat your breakfast.”
“Because you command it?” she demanded through gritted teeth.
“No, because you’re hungry.” He smiled and she almost thought she saw humor glitter in the amber depths of his eyes. “And because you like bacon.”
She pursed her lips.
“Or will you allow your anger and pride to control you, stopping you from enjoying what you so clearly want?”
She gazed at the plate of food waiting for her on the table, but she had a feeling he was referring to more than breakfast.
He released her and she stood up, then frowned.
“Bathroom?”
He pointed to a short hallway off to the left and she skittered away, then returned a few minutes later and sat in the chair. She ate silently. The eggs, so fluffy and light, melted in her mouth. The bacon, infused with a maple glaze, delighted her tongue.
“This is the only time I will make you a meal. From now on, that’s your duty.”
“My duty? What am I? Your slave?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
She frowned. “But I thought you said I have control of my own life. That I need to make my own decisions.”
“That’s right. And you decided to get on a stranger’s bike and put yourself at his mercy. And you can decide to walk out the door right now and try to make your way back to the resort. Or get lost wandering through the thick brush. Did you know there are snakes on the island?”
Her skin crawled at the thought of a long, scaly snake slithering across her foot. Maybe coiling around her leg.
“So really I have no choice. I either stay here and follow your commands, or I risk death pursuing my freedom.”
“There are many more choices than that. You may choose to stay here but defy me.” He leaned forward and stroked her temple with the backs of his fingers, and his voice softened. “Or you might choose to submit to me and enjoy being my slave.”
His words sent a shiver through her. Not just because of his tone, and the images those words elicited of her kneeling before him, bowing her head, but of the heady delight that skittered through her at those images.
“That’s right. Think about submitting to me. Body and soul.” His fingertips brushed along her cheek, sending tingles through her. “That is a choice, and one I think you very much want to make.”
She stared at him with wide eyes, trying to decide if she should slap his smug face, or just lurch to her feet and stalk off.
“Come here,” he commanded.
Without thinking she stood and stepped close.
His hand glided over her hip. Her heart pumped faster as his hand slid over her thigh, then under her skirt. Part of her wanted to slap it away and flee. But the other part, the part of her in control of her motor skills, kept her frozen to the spot. He found her mound, then slid under the fabric to her naked folds. She gasped as his finger slid inside her.
Oh, God, she was so wet. And now he knew how much his words had turned her on.
“Kneel.”
At his command, she dropped to her knees in front of him.
“Feeling your wet pussy has turned me on, slave. Now I want to come.”
He said nothing more but expectation hung in the air. He expected her to do something about it. And he was allowing her choice.
She should stand up and march away. Let him find his own damn release. Or prove him wrong about the fact she had freedom by making him force her to have sex.
But she wanted to see his cock again. To feel it inside her.
To take it in her mouth and suck on the big head.
Keeping her gaze locked on his, she unsnapped his jeans and drew his zipper down. She stroked the cotton-covered shaft inside, feeling it twitch beneath her fingertips, then she slid inside the flap and wrapped her fingers around the hot, thick column.
She drew it from the fabric. Her gaze fell to the stiff erection standing tall and proud in front of her.
Oh, God, she could hardly wait to taste it.
She leaned forward and licked the tip, gliding her tongue over the tiny hole. A salty drop of precum tingled on her tongue. She glided her lips down, filling her mouth with his plum-sized cockhead, swirling her tongue over him.
His eyes darkened to a coppery-gold, and she felt her own intimate flesh quiver.
She glided downward, watching his eyes as she took him deep, controlling her gag reflex to take him further and further into her mouth.
He sucked in a breath as she swallowed him whole, to her complete satisfaction. Then she drew back. He was hard and hot in her mouth and she squeezed him.
His fingers forked through her hair and he drew her toward him again. “Fuck me with your mouth,” he insisted. “In and out. Make me come inside you.”
She dove deep, then drew back, then forward again, setting a rhythm. His cock twitched in her mouth and she fucked him, like he commanded. His cock filled her throat again and again. She could hear his breathing accelerate. Feel his groin tightening.
He was close. Soon he would be spilling his seed in her mouth.
“Stop.”
The word jarred her from the sensual haze she was in. He guided her head back and off his cock.
“Fuck, stand up.” He stood and dragged her to her feet, then spun her around. He pulled her to his body and pushed her forward until her thighs were hard against the solid wood table.
He pushed up her skirt, then tugged down her bikini top. She felt his big, hot hands cup her breasts and he squeezed and kneaded them, sending waves of need humming through her.
She felt herself bent forward, until she rested on the hard table, his hands still holding her breasts, her nipples spiking into his palms. Then his hands slipped away and he pulled down her bathing suit bottoms. His rock-hard cock pushed between her legs, then nudged against her intimate folds.
Then he drove deep, filling her to the hilt. She gasped at the sudden invasion.
“You are so fucking hot and wet. I am going to come in two seconds flat.”
He found her breasts again and squeezed as he pulled back, then drove deep again.
“Do you want to join me?”
But she knew if he came now, she wouldn’t find her release. Without him touching her clit, or paying attention to her needs, the rising pleasure
in her would just fizzle.
He groaned, then she felt his hot seed erupt inside her.
Oh, God, she wanted to come right now. As he pumped into her, she pushed her hand between her legs and found her clit, then strummed it. His groans of release and the feel of his big cock filling her again and again, paired with the burst of intense sensations erupting from her clit, sent pleasure swelling through her. He thrust even deeper and she began to moan as an orgasm exploded through her.
Her groans matched his as they rode the wave together. He kept pumping and she gasped, her hand wrapping around his on her right breast, squeezing with him as she moaned her release.
Finally, the pleasure ebbed and they collapsed on the table, his solid chest on her back, crushing her against the hard surface. Within seconds, he drew her up and fell into the chair, pulling her onto his lap. He said nothing, just stroked her hair, holding her tightly to his chest.
She had never experienced anything like that. She’d had to trigger her own orgasm, but it would have been shallow and empty without his big cock driving into her.
And she knew instinctively that, despite his words, if he’d wanted to, he could have held off his own pleasure and given her an orgasm. But he’d given that control to her.
* * *
“So what are you afraid of,” Marissa asked as she obediently cleared the table of their breakfast dishes.
He glanced at her over the book he was reading. “Why do you think I’m afraid of anything?”
She shrugged. “Because you’re alive.” She picked up his plate and water glass, then glanced at his angular, yet handsome face, and the hard glint in his dark eyes as he stared back at her. “Because of the haunted look in your eyes.”
She carried the dishes to the tiled counter and put them down.
“You know, for a slave, you talk too much.”
She shrugged. “You keep asking me the question. I just wondered if you’ve examined your own life.
He pushed himself to his feet and walked into the next room, then returned a moment later.
