by Anna Zaires, Pepper Winters, Skye Warren, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Amber Lin
“Fucking breathe, Alex!”
Someone pounded on my chest.
“Shit, man. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let her get away.”
“Breathe!”
The voices were strained, as if coming from constricted throats. Cold, wet drops fell on my face, and at first I thought they were tears, but tears were hot and salty, and these drops were like icy pinpricks on my cheeks. Something loud rumbled overhead, blocking out the voices, and the ground vibrated. I felt soft, surprisingly warm lips on mine, opening my mouth and breathing life into me. I came to with a violent cough that seized my body.
“That’s it, cough it up.” Cold fingers turned my head to the side, and a flood of water erupted from my mouth. I opened my eyes and found Rafe perched over me, his arms supporting his weight and his face inches from mine. “You scared the fucking shit out of me!” he screamed. Water dripped from his hair, down his nose and off his chin.
And his eyes…they narrowed to furious slits. He jumped to his feet and reached out a hand. “Get up,” he said between tight lips.
I let him pull me up, and my body quaked uncontrollably. I was still trying to calm down from almost drowning, but as soon as another streak of lightening shot across the sky, the situation hit me head-on.
Too much water.
All around me.
My heart pounded in my ears, galloping at an unbearable speed as panic took over. A keening cry tore from my lips, and I doubled over, hugging my midsection as the world around me tilted. “Why?” That single word squeezed from my throat. “Why would you bring me here?”
“Why do you think?” Shaking his head, Rafe glanced at Jax, who stood off to the side observing the drama unfolding between Rafe and me. “I knew you couldn’t escape, but I never thought you’d run and almost get yourself killed!”
I decided not to point out the fact that any sane person would try to run. “Where are we? What is this place?”
“Mason Island.” He swept the area with a hand. “But since you’re so set on leaving, there’s a boat at the dock. Feel free.”
“You know I can’t!”
“Don’t I know it,” he said with a sinister laugh. “Why do you think I brought you here?” He pushed me back enough so his eyes bored into mine. “You’ll fucking do as I say because there’s nowhere for you to go. We both know you won’t come anywhere near this water again.”
“I hate you!” I screamed, pounding on his chest.
He easily deflected the blows. “Not nearly as much as I hate you. Now move your ass.” He pulled me away from the river, toward the cabin, I assumed. I stumbled along numbly, eyes on the ground, one foot in front of the other, and never quite registered anything around me. I could only think of one thing.
Water. Too much water.
He hadn’t needed to lock me up. My fear held me prisoner more effectively than any conventional method he could have used. The chains, the shackles, the cage—they’d all been props to mess with my head. As I followed him back toward the cabin, something inside me finally broke. My fear of water stemmed from a near-drowning experience when I was four, and I’d never learned to swim.
Rafe had known. He’d been the one to fish me out of my family’s pool when I was fourteen, after Zach “accidentally” knocked me in. My brother had been particularly mean that day, probably because Rafe had stopped by, and I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off him.
How ironic that my phobia was his most powerful weapon.
The three of us entered the cabin through the door off the kitchen, and Rafe switched on a light. Unable to stop shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from clanking together.
Rafe shrugged out of his soaked black shirt, flung it over a chair, and moved it away from the table. “Jax, take a seat over there, would ya?”
Jax gave him a funny look but followed the request.
“No, I need you to turn the chair around, so the back faces the table.”
“Sure thing.” Jax turned the chair and plopped onto it before removing his own wet T-shirt.
My gaze traveled between them, back and forth, and I felt as if I were missing something. I’d just tried to escape. I’d almost drowned, and they were acting nonchalant. Too nonchalant. What the hell was going on here?
Rafe’s gaze fell on me, and for a few heavy moments, I didn’t breathe. That look, his lips thin, eyes narrowed, made my pulse rocket. A clap of thunder sounded, and I jumped.
Rafe pulled the belt from his pants.
I backed up. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t give me a chance to retreat. With a yank on my arm, he brought me closer and wound the belt around my wrists.
“Rafe…please—”
He pulled the leather tight, and I gasped as he bent me over the table with a hard shove. Drops of water landed on the wood, and my breasts flattened against the surface.
He pushed my arms across the table and tossed the other end of the belt at Jax. “Knot it around the chair.”
“Rafe?” My voice came out unusually high-pitched, and I swiveled my head in time to see him take down the paddle he’d pointed out earlier that morning. “You wouldn’t.”
Jax snickered as he attached the belt around a slot in the chair. I pulled on it, but it wouldn’t give.
“I definitely would.” Rafe brought my attention back to him. His voice chilled me, sending dread and remorse through my blood. Dread for what was coming, and remorse for my actions. I should have been smarter about trying to escape. I should have taken a few days to gain his trust first. This attempt had turned into a disaster.
“My old man only used this on my brother and me a handful of times. It hurt like hell, and you can bet your ass we learned quick. You’re about to learn quick too.”
I stiffened as he halted behind me. Waiting for that first strike was the worst part, and when he finally did crack that paddle across my ass, I lost my breath for what seemed like forever, though it must have only been a mere instant before he did it again. I jumped from foot to foot and bit into my lip to keep from yowling. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of voicing my pain.
And I never, ever wanted him to know how this was turning me on. My face burned from humiliation—not from what he was doing, but rather from my own sick reaction to it.
“C’mon, sweetheart, scream for me. Beg me to stop.”
“No,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
He struck again, and this time I let out an involuntary yelp.
“That’s better.”
Crack!
“Stop!” I clenched my thighs, and my hands fisted within the restraint of the belt. Jax caught my gaze, and I noticed his fingers curling around the chair back, knuckles turning ash-white. He licked his lips, eyes glazed over with arousal.
Rafe continued to paddle my ass, and the three of us fell into an odd sort of silence. There was no talking, and I held back any sounds of pain, or God forbid, pleasure. Only the smack of thick wood to skin echoed through the room.
I drifted into a space outside myself as Rafe increased the pressure of the strikes. After about thirty, he set the paddle down on the table, his breathing coming fast and hard. I sensed him moving closer, heard a zipper lower, and I tightened my already clenched muscles.
“Spread your legs.”
Hands forming fists, I let my head drop to the table as I parted my thighs. Mortification burned my cheeks again, hotter than before because he was about to fuck me in front of his friend. Even worse, they were about to learn the truth about me.
His hands fell to my hips, and he entered me with a single, forceful plunge. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He laughed, thrusting so hard, he pushed me higher onto the table until my feet left the floor. “I would’ve never guessed. You get off on this shit, don’t you?”
A tear leaked out, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” I said with a moan.
“Are you apologizing because you get off on pain and hu
miliation, or are you apologizing for something else?”
“I’m just…sorry.” Sorry for being the way I was because my fucked up nature was at the root of why he’d gone to prison. I was sorry for so much.
He slowed the pace, his cock sliding in and out with gentle rhythm. I scratched my nails on the surface of the table and moaned.
Jax let out a moan too. I lifted my head as he reached for his zipper. His head fell back, hooded eyes watching me as his hand pumped in his lap.
Rafe’s shallow thrusts tormented me, rubbing in just the right spot. My need dripped down my thighs, seeping from my body in a gentle pull that made me grind my teeth. I abused the air with deep, throaty cries.
“I need to come,” I begged.
“No, you’re not getting off. If you do, I’ll choke you again.”
I gasped. “I can’t hold back!”
“I said no.” He smacked my ass and rammed me. Hard. Painfully hard. I concentrated on anything but him moving inside me. The thunder reverberating overhead, the hard edge of the table biting into my belly, the eerie howl of a train. Even Jax’s grunts as he neared orgasm. Anything but Rafe.
It wasn’t enough. I was going to come again, and he was going to choke me, a thought that terrified me. I could handle a lot of things, but having my air cut off wasn’t one of them. Unbidden, the image of Zach entered my mind, and I held onto it, remembered all the times he’d dragged my panties down and pinned me to the bed. My bed. The one place I was supposed to feel safest. I recalled how he’d muffled my sobs in the pillow, how he’d beaten me in places where the bruises wouldn’t show. Still, my body had turned on me.
This was his fault. He’d made me the way I was, and I hated him for it.
Rafe pushed into me one last time and stilled, fisting my hair as he came. Jax came too, as if they’d timed it. His breathing gradually slowed as he traced a lazy path down my back. Gooseflesh erupted from his touch—a sensation that contrasted with the searing ache in my core. He released my hands, picked me up, and threw my soaked body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Water dripped from my hair and left a trail on the floor as he carried me toward the cellar. He stopped on the way and grabbed a towel from the bathroom.
I was shivering violently when he approached the cage. “Don’t leave me in there. Please.” I clutched his wet jeans, but he dislodged me way too easily and set me on my feet.
“Two nights, Alex. That’s what your little escape attempt earned you.” He kept me at his side, one hand fisting my hair as he unlocked the cage. He shoved me inside, and the towel landed on the concrete at my feet.
I turned around and helplessly watched while he shut and secured the door. “Rafe…please…” I blinked several times, but his unwavering expression swam in my vision.
“Do I need to restrain your hands?”
“Why would you need to do that?” I gestured to my prison. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
He laughed. “No masturbating.”
The idea of touching myself was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I was pretty certain if I did, it would only make me want the real thing more. I still ached for him, so much, despite the wall of bars standing between us while he held the key to my freedom.
“I’ll be back in the morning to feed you.” He turned, as if I meant nothing, and once again the darkness suffocated me.
Chapter Twelve
Turning Point
Rafe
Two things haunted me: I had a son I’d yet to meet, and I had a naked captive in the cellar—a tempting, kinky one I ached to fuck again. I adjusted my jeans and tried to force my mind onto other things, but the fact that two days had gone by, in which I hadn’t dealt with either issue, wouldn’t leave me alone.
Neither would Nikki. She’d tried calling several times—I had eight unheard messages on my cell but was too chicken-shit to listen to them, let alone return her calls. I had no clue what to say to her anyway, mainly because she had no clue I’d kidnapped a woman and was now holding said woman in my cellar. Those weren’t exactly the actions of father material. The kid was probably better off never knowing me.
The cabin was too fucking quiet, too still. Alex had remained unnervingly silent, even when I’d gone down there to feed her, and Jax had gone into work. Enough was enough. She was mine—mine to play with, mine to torment. Fucking mine. If I wanted to fuck her again, I would. No more thoughts of how terrified she’d looked when she’d fallen into the river, or how my heart stopped as I tried to get hers working again.
My footsteps fell heavily on the stairs, and when I reached the bottom, I found her huddled in her favorite corner, her cheek to the concrete and body curled into a ball underneath the towel I’d left with her. It was cruel and inhumane, but damn, it was a sight I’d never forget. Besides, better to be hard and mean now, get her to fall into line, than return her to the cellar numerous times because I’d been too soft on her. I definitely didn’t want a repeat of the river.
Something enfolded my heart and squeezed. Fuck, she’d almost died, and whether I liked it or not, part of me would have died with her. My actions had nearly gotten her killed, and regardless of what she’d done, I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her. I wanted to punish her, but I also couldn’t deny that I straight up wanted her. Period.
She’d become my world, my obsession, and I had no plans to let her off this island.
“If I let you out, will you behave?”
“Yes,” she said, the word falling from her lips in lifeless fashion. Maybe I’d finally broken her.
“Will you try to run again?”
“You know I won’t. Where would I go?”
“Things are going to change around here. No more tantrums, no more back-talking or throwing dishes.” I paused long enough to unlock the cage and enter. “No more escape attempts. You’ll do as you’re told, when you’re told, without argument, or next time you’ll spend a lot more time down here. Do you understand me?”
“Y…yes,” she said through chattering teeth. “I’m so cold.”
Damn it. I was walking a fine line between breaking her and risking her becoming ill. “Okay.” Crouching, I brushed tangled hair from her eyes. A strand caught between her lips, and I ran a finger along the seam of her mouth to remove it. Her lips were chapped, her face pale, but what bothered me most was the emptiness in her expression. I remembered how deep her fear of water ran, and I shuddered as images flashed in my mind. Her eyes wide with terror, arms reaching for me as she splashed into the murky river.
Shaking off the recollections, I pulled her to her feet, then stood back and gave her time to stretch her muscles. “C’mon,” I said, reaching out a hand. “Let’s get you clean and warm, then you can start that good behavior by making dinner.” We made our way up to my bedroom, where I directed her into the bathroom. Her eyes grew large and round at the sight of the garden tub.
“Alex, the shower.” I pointed to the huge stall tucked on the other side of the tub. Last thing I needed was an episode of hysterics.
She folded her arms. “You don’t have to stay. I can shower on my own. There’s nowhere for me to—” She cut off when she turned to face me. Her gaze followed my movements as I lifted the hem of my T-shirt up my chest, and I couldn’t help the smirk that flitted across my lips.
“No, sweetheart. I’m getting in with you.” I gestured toward the stall, a large enclosure of walls made with blue and grey tile. A narrow opening served as the entrance. She gawked at me a for a few seconds, and I was so close to shoving her inside because shit…I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her body.
Chapter Thirteen
Shower Head
Alex
My mouth gaped at his muscular chest, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from him when he lowered his jeans. The charcoal gray boxer briefs went the way of his pants. He displayed his body without shame or modesty. I took in every inch of him, especially the dark tribal lines that streaked across the left side of hi
s chest and down both arms. I wanted to follow that map with my lips and fingertips, wanted to lick down his muscles, past his abs, only stopping long enough to tease his erection with my tongue.
“Have you seen enough yet?”
I jumped, lifting my attention to his face, and felt my own flush. Furious Rafe scared the shit out of me, and naked, lustful-looking Rafe made me just as nervous. Both versions were passionate and cold, stable one minute yet irrational the next. I lowered my gaze to his erection. Moisture collected at the tip, and some secret part of my psyche celebrated. I did that to him, without even touching him.
He couldn’t hide his desire like I could mine, collecting between my closed thighs, stowed away and out of sight.
This was the first time I’d felt anything during the past two days. While locked away in the dark, I’d found a way to shut down. Maybe I’d experienced a delayed reaction to the horror of nearly drowning, but when he left me alone in that cellar, shivering more violently than ever before, my brain simply stopped functioning like normal. Somehow, I’d found a way to cope.
I’d pretended to be somewhere else. Someone else. I’d made up a new identity. In my new dream world, I called myself Amy. Amy was plain and boring and absurdly happy. Amy had a loving, devoted husband, two adorable kids, and a perfect, non-smelly dog named Zippo. Amy lived in the south, possibly Arizona, where it was dry and sweltering under the sun.
“Get in,” Rafe said, bunching his hands, and the fantasy of another life dissolved, leaving cold, hard truth in its wake.
I resisted the urge to cover myself as I entered the shower. Next to his beautiful physique, my filthy and unkempt body with curves in all the wrong places paled in comparison.
He stepped in after me and turned on the dual shower heads. Hot spray filled every corner, hitting us from all directions. I gasped when he shoved me against the freezing tile. Without a word, he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into a palm before rubbing both hands together.
I closed my eyes and focused on breathing as he started washing my hair, but when he added more soap and slid his hands down my shoulders and over my breasts, I almost came undone, unprepared for those hands gliding over me. As his fingers blazed along my skin, I wrestled with my demons, the ones that lived to remind me of what a dirty whore I was. I’d never experienced what was considered a normal physical reaction to sex, the ability to enjoy it without the threat of force or violence. No one had ever made me feel like this. Rafe had more power in a single touch than Zach had in his entire being.
