Nabbed in New Zealand

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Nabbed in New Zealand Page 10

by Christine Edwards


  I nearly choke on a sip of wine. Reaching forward to set my glass on the table, I reply, “Ha! Um, not really. I mean the South is full of lovely ladies, and I never really went our looking, so my dates have been few and far between. Plus, don’t most men prefer blondes? They’re everywhere in Charleston and they get tons of attention.”

  “Can’t speak for other blokes, but what I want, what I fancy beyond reason, is sitting right next to me in my home, exactly where I want her to be.”

  He gives a firm tug on my hip and I slide right into his taut, muscled side. He’s watching me with a burning intensity in his phenomenal eyes.

  Hot breath caresses my ear as he bends low and close to continue his verbal seduction. “She’s just over five feet tall with a mane of silky dark hair and eyes like the Tasman Sea. Sheer perfection.”

  Oh damn ... that was both possessive and hot.

  “Judge,” I whisper against his neck, “thank you. No man has ever complimented me quite as sincerely as you.” Whenever he is close, touching me like this, I feel weightless, nearly dizzy from the foreign emotions he brings forth from deep within me.

  He caresses my cheek before applying light pressure with his lips. I turn to him as he swipes once across my bottom lip with his smooth tongue. “I’m only stating the obvious,” he says. “Now, have you given any thought to my offer?”

  I have indeed, but I’m scared.

  “Yes, and I’m still undecided.”

  He presses his body into mine, pushing me down onto my back. “Well then, let me help you out a bit with your decision.”

  Oh yes, please do ….

  A skilled hand flips open the button on my jeans as he licks the seam of my lips with his perfect tongue. Oh, does he ever know what moves to make! It’s as if he’s a master chess player.

  My eyes slide shut and I whisper, “Judge.”

  His voice, rich and powerful, cuts me off. “Shhh, just lie back and be my dessert tonight, sugar. Mmmm, I can’t wait to get my fill of your sweet cream. Drives me right mad, woman.”

  I whimper as he slides my panties and jeans effortlessly down my legs. He moves with them and before I know it, his dark hair is visible between my thighs. He wastes no time lavishing open-mouthed licks and kisses first on my needy clit and then lower, lapping passionately against my core.

  “Yesssss! Mmmmore. Please don’t stop.”

  His head lifts slightly, mouth gleaming with my dew. “You know what I expect to hear, petal.”

  I hit him with a heated stare and purr, “Sir, please make me come with your perfect tongue. I’ll behave, I promise.”

  He grunts his approval and lowers his gorgeous face down once again to work his tongue over and over against my pulsing clit. The pleasure is mounting fast as he works two wide fingers in and out of my throbbing channel, hitting just the right angle.

  “Sir!” I clutch his shoulders and wail so loudly that the hairs on my arm stand on end. I sense what’s sure to be a massive orgasm beginning to ignite within me. His fingers work me faster, urging the spasms to a near frenzy as the pleasure sweeps over me. He’s groaning hard as he licks my clit; his touch becoming ever more feverish.

  I moan twice as I float back down to reality. When I’m finally able to open my eyes, he is on his knees between my legs, watching me with a wicked look in his eyes.

  “I want … to pleasure you now.” I’m panting the words as I struggle to push up on shaky forearms.

  I certainly do not have to ask him twice. He unbuckles his wide leather belt and unbuttons his worn jeans. I’m on my knees, eager to please him. He stands quickly and shimmies out of his pants and boxer briefs, tugging his sweater off in the process, before kneeling back on the sofa, his ass resting on his heels. I slowly unbutton my cardigan, doing my very best to put on a good show, to draw things out and ramp him up. Once I’m bare, I shift my weight onto all fours before him and lick his rock hard shaft from root to tip.

  His breathing quickly becomes labored as I swirl my tongue around the smooth head. His chest is visibly rising and falling in excitement. I nuzzle closer to his proud cock, enjoying his silky feel and all-male scent of spice and musk. One hand weaves under my hair to caress my neck as I grasp his perfect cock in my right palm, alternating between deep sucking and tongue flicks.

  I want to drive him as out of his mind as I was minutes before. The hand I’d been using around his shaft snakes between his legs to caress his hanging sack. A long, low groan floats down to me as he begins to shake. The hand at my neck tightens as I increase my speed, moving my mouth up and down his cock with ardent determination.

  The diameter of his massive shaft grows wider with each passing sweep to the point where it’s a challenge to move quickly along his swollen cock. I feel his body become tight with tense expectation. Feeling empowered, I keep up my rhythm until his fist closes tightly in my hair. I hear him roar out in male satisfaction as his hot essence floods the back of my throat. I struggle to swallow, wanting to take everything he has to offer.

  Slowly I release him and lean back, pushing my hair away from my glistening face. Glowing with sweat, Judge is breathing hard. He reaches for me and pulls me atop him as he collapses onto his back on the long sofa.

  Through the stillness he speaks against my hair, “I don’t care what your answer is. I’m never letting you go, petal.”

  I’m shocked by both the seriousness in his voice and the strength of the statement. I wait for him to say he’s kidding. He doesn’t. His arms close around me in both heat and unyielding power. Suddenly wary and alert, I wonder, could he be serious? Was I a fool to ever believe that I had a choice? That he would ever let me out of here of my own free will?

  Chapter Ten

  ***

  Escape

  It is now three in the morning, and like an owl, I’m wide awake. After such a long, intense day, we headed to bed early—not long after the potent post-dinner encounter. Judge was obviously exhausted because he was completely out the moment his head hit the downy pillow.

  The security code I memorized earlier has been playing over and over again in my head. Call it self-preservation, but I have to get those keys. I need to get away from what is building between us. I want to trust him. Hell, I want to help him. Wouldn’t he be in deep shit if he dropped me off somewhere? Wouldn’t he be seen as a kidnapper if someone recognized him? No, I’m going to steal his truck and come up with a plausible story so he won’t be implicated. I only hope that the alarm is the same as the code for his laptop; otherwise I’m so screwed.

  I slip from beneath the dense comforter, tip-toe out of bed, and quietly put on the clothes I arrived in. Feeling like a cat burglar, I cross to the tall door and ever so slowly push it open. The fire is nearly out, but streaming through the central living room windows is just enough soft moonlight to see by. His keys are resting on the edge of the coffee table. He probably fished them out of his jeans pocket right before he passed out for the night, figuring there was no need to hide them because I can’t get out of the house with the alarm active.

  I try not to breathe as I lean in close to pick up the keys, cradling them in my hand so they don’t rattle. I turn back to stare at the bedroom door, silently wondering if I will ever see him again. What if he goes to jail?

  Shit, I can’t think of this now. I have to stick with the plan and move forward.

  Turning, I move toward the stairs leading to the lower level. I carefully wind through the exercise equipment, thinking how it would be a classic Valla move to knock over a loud barbell this close to freedom. There’s a closed door I’m hoping will lead to his garage, the one I saw from the exterior of the house. A keypad lies on the right side of it, just at eye level. Here it goes ….

  I move in close in order to discern the number in the near darkness. I carefully type in the digits 5894521. Why in the fuck is it still blinking? I take a chance and hit the pound key. Immediately it flashes, reading ‘Disarmed.’ I click the handle downward and slide through t
he doorway into the black, unfamiliar room. Reaching blindly along the wall, I feel for a switch.

  A florescent panel flicks to life overhead, illuminating a hulking, jet-black Range Rover with blacked out windows and sweet black rims. Wicked cool. Sorry, Judge, but I’m borrowing this beauty for a while tonight.

  I click the ‘unlock’ icon on the key fob and the interior lights of the hefty SUV illuminate as I reach out for the handle. Once inside, I take a deep breath and decide that it’s wise to consolidate all noise. I simultaneously hit the garage button on the sun visor and crank the key in the ignition. The engine purrs to life immediately and I give a little start as the seductively dark song “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons begins pulsing through the interior of the truck. His sound system must be first class because the beats are so strong they mirror my pounding heart. Was he playing this when he brought me up the mountain?

  Stop stalling and go!

  The Rover lurches backward into the night as I give it too much gas. Slow, now nice and easy, Valla. Don’t blow it in his driveway, for Christ sakes!

  Whoa. The mountain seems far more ominous and steep in the still black of night. Too frightened to unclutch my hands from the wheel and mess with the complex stereo system, I let the song continue to thunder away in its smooth accusation. He’s been nothing but nice, yet the wild, domineering passion within him scares the hell out of me.

  What if there is a darker level to him that I have yet to discover? What if he wants to make me some sort of live-in slave for his depraved use? The last thing he said to me was, verbatim, ‘I’m never letting you go, petal.’ No, I’m definitely making the right move here.

  Not the time for emotion. Focus on the road, Valla!

  The high beams are blaring a wide path of light in front of the Rover, leading the way toward my freedom as I begin the long, perilous descent off the mountain. There are several ‘high’ and ‘low’ gear setting buttons located in the center console. I flit my gaze down to them, wondering which ones I should push to aid me in snow and ice. I don’t want to push the wrong one, which could have me skidding down the mountain from loss of proper traction.

  I should have checked them out closely while I was still in the garage, but I needed to get the hell out of there in case he woke up. As I creep along, I push the button labeled with an image of a truck on a steep incline—pretty obvious there. I’m not far, perhaps five hundred feet away from his home and I can’t resist glancing up in the rearview mirror one last time. The light is still streaming out of the garage and I hope I don’t regret this decision. I’ll definitely miss him calling me ‘petal’ in his silky accent. My fingers lock tighter on the steering wheel as I focus dead ahead, determined to put this all behind me.

  Out of nowhere, like a shot in the dark, a massive red deer with a huge rack of antlers bounds across the snowy path directly in front of the SUV. Gasping, I jerk the wheel hard to the right, just narrowly missing his back haunches. Fumbling frantically for the brake, I slam on it hard, which sends the already off-kilter truck into a full one-eighty spin on the slick black ice concealed beneath the powder. I try my best to overcorrect the steering as the truck slides out of control. Oh my God! Please don’t let it fly off the mountain! I don’t want to die this way!

  I’m suddenly thrown hard to my left as my shoulder hits against the window with rough force. The back right side of the vehicle has slammed into a tree, or something equally hard, immediately stopping the wild spin. Hot pain shoots through my shoulder as I fumble for several minutes, trying to get the truck back into gear. What could it be stuck on—a stump, a pile of icy snow? I give the accelerator two more healthy pushes without success. Defeated, I’m just leaning down to unclick my seatbelt, ready to hop out and see what’s going on, when swift movement out of my driver’s window stops me dead in my tracks.

  I gasp in astonishment and struggle to engage the locks. In a split second, the unlocked door is lurched violently open and a low, furious voice grinds out, nearly breathless with exertion through the frigid, foggy darkness, “You just upped the game to the next level, my little beauty.”

  Oh no. Fuck noooo!

  Incapable of coherent thought, much less speech, I frantically scramble to escape into the back seats, anywhere away from his pulsing wrath. I land sideways on my knees against the smooth black leather. Looking like the ultimate predator in the pitch black night, he hauls himself up into the truck. I lurch for the door, trying to get out, but he slams the locks into place. Terror has me immobile. I watch as he puts the Rover into a different setting. It takes two tries but he finally gets it unstuck. A loud lurch is accompanied by a cringe-worthy crunching noise.

  Oh shit, was that his bumper? I wrecked his car! Just another issue to add to my overloaded brain. I watch in abject horror as he turns the vehicle slowly around and heads back up the steep hill, straight toward his now well-illuminated home. I bite my bottom lip, desperate to feel anything but the adrenaline-laced fear flooding my system.

  Nearly growling, he stares ahead and says loudly over the pounding bass of the music, “You had no way of knowing this but I live for a challenge, petal. Easy just doesn’t do it for me, baby. I tried to give you time to adjust to me, tried to be a gentleman, but now it’s a no-go. You will do exactly as I say from now on or you’ll be appropriately punished. You must be totally mad to think you’d have even the slightest chance of getting away. You do not walk away from me baby, ever.”

  I whimper in fear as I huddle into myself, as if I could melt into the back seat.

  ***

  He avoids my eyes as he scoops me out of the Rover. I know better than to fight him; his strength is far too great. I’m hanging over his shoulder and trembling hard as he stalks up the interior stairs and across the heavily shadowed living room. Is he going to punish me? If so, how? His body is as stiff as an arrow beneath me. He’s clearly livid.

  Tossing me carelessly onto the bed, he turns to tend to the fire in the bedroom, adding four fat logs that crackle and pop as they catch flame. We both know I’d have no chance of escaping him on foot. If I made a break for it right now, I couldn’t even beat him to the top steps. I scramble up to the headboard and clutch a pillow to my chest.

  Near breathless, I say, “Now that you’ve won, are you going to have your way with me? What are you going to do for a punishment this time, Judge, make me crawl around for you or some sick shit?” I’m pissed off as I hiss out the words to him. “Well, go on and get it over with, you damn savage! Were you ever going to let me go or was that all part of your control game? Your mixed messages are more confusing than a fucking labyrinth!”

  His broad back to me, he prods the fire with a black iron poker for several minutes. When he finally turns around, his features are stoic and darkly intimidating. In a clear, deep voice, he says, “You’re about to be punished. The most severe punishment yet, and well deserved. And rest assured, my petal, I’ll only take you if and when you beg me. And you will, so fuckin’ sweetly for me, darlin’. Come to think of it, I wager it will take all of five minutes before you plead for me to fuck you senseless. You should damn well know by now that I’m a man of my word. Of course I would have let you go!” He finishes his tirade in a roar of outrage. I’ve never heard him yell before. It is petrifying, causing my breath to whoosh out of my lungs, but his arrogance also makes me angry. I’m no fool. He can’t order me around like a wind-up sex toy. In fact, he can’t make me do shit.

  I narrow my eyes and remain defiantly silent. Beg him? Hell, no!

  Throwing off his thick black coat, followed by his fitted white T-shirt, he leans down to pull off his boots, leaving his sexy jeans and wide, weathered belt in place.

  His voice is dangerous and deliberate as he says, “Get off the bed and undress. Now, Valla.”

  “No.”

  “Woman, just try me. Do it or you won’t be able to walk for two days.”

  I start to hesitate but really don’t want to add insult to injury. Although my
heart is beating so fast I think I might faint, I push off the high log bed and slowly remove all of my clothing, placing it on the bed behind me. He waits, watching me, unmoving. No expression. That’s the scariest part.

  “Follow me to the library.”

  He’s already one step out of the bedroom as I call out, “Judge—”

  He cuts me off. “Enough,Valla.” It’s said with supreme annoyance, coupled with male aggression.

  My jaw snaps shut as I follow him on shaky legs through the shadowy darkness, dreading what will happen next. My harsh, unavoidable punishment.

  One thing I know for certain about Judge is that he gets off on intense control. It’s part of his vital make-up and I’m already addicted.

  Part of me wonders why I ran away to begin with …. So far he has been nothing but genuine and caring to me. Why did I run like a jackrabbit in the night, trying to escape from this fearsome wolf? Do I fear him, or do I crave his dominant touch punishing me for my willful ways? Perhaps it’s a primal combination of both. Whatever it is, it has me mesmerized, lusting for his scalding gaze and masterful touch.

  I stand motionless in a small room that I’ve yet to explore, an office of sorts with books lining the tall shelves. There is an oversized, heavy oak desk near a large window and a black leather chair in a corner near the door.

  He sternly takes me by my bare shoulders and positions me in the center of a dense rug. I don’t move an inch as he briefly leaves the room. When he returns there is a familiar length of climbing rope wound about his palm and forearm. Without a word he takes the edge of the rope and allows the rest to fall with a thud on the carpet right at my feet. My wrists are pulled forward and swiftly bound together. He handles me in an unfeeling, nearly clinical manner, and I’m afraid I’ve pushed him too far. Turning, he stalks across the small room to pick up the chair that rests behind his desk. Bringing it to the center of the room, he sets it before me. Where in hell is this leading?

 

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