Beast sets the pink bag down beside me on the couch. Then he unties my feet from the chair and raises himself up to his full height. “Gunner’s old lady said she hopes she thought of everything you’ll need,” he rumbles. “She said to have Thorn let her know if you want her to send you anything else next time someone comes up.”
Beast is almost like a monster — like some non-green version of the Incredible Hulk. But even so, he’s still being kinder than Thorn is being to me right now. I find myself wishing that he was the one in charge of me, instead of Thorn. I thought we were sort of starting to get along okay for a little bit, but right around the time I managed to fix my necklace he turned back into a surly asshole. Disappointment floods my chest for a few seconds, but then I remembered Thorn’s my captor, not my friend. So I guess it’s actually a blessing in disguise that he’s making it easier for me to hate him.
“Thank you!” I say, shooting Beast a shy smile. I go to the couch, unzip the duffel and look inside. There’s a bunch of clothing on top. I take out a women’s fitted t-shirt and hold it up; it looks like it will fit me, more or less. There’s a new pack of underwear, thank God, and some jeans and warm-looking socks. There’s a toothbrush, and even some floss — like my dental hygiene will be my biggest worry as a captive out here in the middle of nowhere. She’s even put in some face soap, and some shampoo and conditioner. I almost laugh at how thoughtful this is; it’s something I’m sure none of these men would even have thought to do. I’m oddly touched and grateful to have even these small comforts. Whoever the woman is who packed this bag, I can’t help thinking she must be nice.
As I keep digging down, my hand brushes something small and hard that I can’t identify. I grab onto it and pull it out. A Kindle! There’s even a charging cord wrapped around it. Turning it on, I see it’s fully charged, and loaded with books. From the eclectic look of the library, Gunner’s old lady has sent her own personal Kindle to me. Breathing a happy sigh, I send out a silent thank you to this stranger, who may have just saved me from going insane with boredom.
I get to the bottom of the bag, noting the other items that my kind stranger has packed for me, when it occurs to me that something’s missing.
“Oh no!” I murmur with disappointment.
“What?” Thorn barks impatiently.
“There aren’t any shoes in here.”
“What d’you need shoes for? You’re not going anywhere.” His voice is threatening.
“Why are you being such an ass?” I fire back.
“Oh, so now I’m being an ass, am I?”
“Yes, you most certainly are!” I say hotly. “What have I ever done to you, for you to treat me like this? Next to you, my father seems like Mary Poppins in comparison!”
“Yeah, well if it wasn’t for yer fuckin’ father, I wouldn’t be here right now, lookin’ after your sorry, ungrateful hide,” Thorn grimaces, irritated.
“Jesus, can the two of you stop bickering for a second?” Beast interrupts us. He looks at me, clearly amused. “You want me to ask Alix to send you some shoes the next time around?”
“Yes!” I say.
“No!” Thorn shouts at the same time.
“Fuck you!” I cry, stamping my foot at him. “Why can’t I just have a damn pair of shoes?”
“I don’t want you getting any stupid ideas about trying to escape.”
I round on him, fury almost choking me. “I would walk over hot coals in my bare feet to get away from you!” I scream. “Shoes or no shoes!”
I can’t stand it anymore. I hate being here with him. Grabbing the duffel, I fling the strap over my shoulder, flash a look of silent apology to Beast, and stomp into the single bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
Hurling myself down on the bed, I start to sob, hammering on the mattress with angry, useless fists. I hate being here, hate being so helpless and isolated and with this cocky asshole who acts like I’m the inconvenience, when I didn’t ask to be fucking kidnapped and held captive against my will. Even Beast, who is huge and freaking terrifying, isn’t acting like he blames me for all of this like Thorn seems to.
I lie there and cry out my frustrations and anger. Eventually, I hear the front door slam and the roar of an engine starting up. Once again, I’m alone with Thorn. For a second, I consider flinging open the window and running after Beast, to beg him to take me with him. But I know there’s no point. Tiredly, I haul myself up into a sitting position and reach for the duffel. One by one, I take all the objects out and set them out on the bed. I stack the shirts together, and open the packages of underwear and socks. I hold up the two pairs of jeans she’s included. They’re a little bit short, but it looks like they’ll fit, more or less. I peel off Thorn’s shirt and sweats and put on a tank top, one of the pairs of jeans, and some thick, fluffy socks. The only bra I have is the strapless one I was wearing under my dress, and it’s in the bathroom still. Damn. I should have asked Beast for a bra in the next shipment, but I probably wouldn’t have been able to bring myself to say the word bra to him, anyway. My face flushing at the thought, I pull on a warm-looking hoodie over the tank for warmth and more coverage of my boobs.
When I’m done getting dressed, I want to just stay here in this bedroom, away from Thorn. But after I’ve put all of the contents of the duffel into the top drawer of the small dresser under the window, there’s nothing else in here for me to do. Stupidly, I left the Kindle out in the living room on the coffee table.
Anger boiling inside me, I snatch up Thorn’s T-shirt and sweats and open the bedroom door, intending to throw his clothes in his face. When I get out into the main room, he’s in the kitchen, talking on the phone with his back to me. I pause in mid-throw, defeated. My dramatic gesture won’t have as much of an impact if he doesn’t even see it. Going over to the couch, I snatch up the Kindle. But instead of flouncing back into the bedroom right away, I decide to linger, and try to catch what I can of the conversation. I perch on the armrest of the couch pretend to start looking through the library on the device.
“… some of the brothers to stand guard… No, at this point I don’t think there’s any reason. What did Oz say?… Yeah. I’ll be talking to him about that… Understood. All right.”
Thorn turns to look at me when he’s finished talking. His eyes briefly register that I’ve changed clothes, then flick away.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“What d’you mean?”
“You were asking about my father. What did he say?”
“Club business,” he mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, brother. Yeah, I know that drill. Women are too stupid or fragile to know anything.”
“Not that you deserve a fucking answer to that,” he fires back, “but this isn’t even your father’s club. Why the hell would I tell you anything about it?”
“Fine,” I huff. I snatch up his T-shirt and sweats from the couch where I’ve dropped them and hurl them at him. But since I’m sitting down I don’t get enough of a windup, and they hit him at thigh level before falling limply at his feet. Thorn gives me a disgusted look and picks them up.
“Christ,” he murmurs. “I’m going outside to chop some wood. We’re almost out of heating oil. Don’t…”
“Ugh, I know. Don’t get any ideas of escaping.” I suppress the urge to scream in annoyance. “Seriously, Thorn, let it go! Where the hell would I escape to, anyway? You said yourself I wouldn’t survive it if I tried.”
He flashes me a look and stomps out the front door, slamming it behind him. I take a deep breath and let it out, savoring the fact that for just a few minutes, I’m blissfully alone.
Which leaves me to contemplate a way to escape in peace.
Okay, so I have no idea where I am. And sure, I still don’t have any shoes.
But, I now have multiple pairs of thick, warm socks. And a sweatshirt. And more clothes. If I layer them, I should manage to stay warm enough to stave off the cold. I just need to figure out the most logical direction to walk
, and time it so I have as much time as possible before Thorn realizes I’m gone.
I can do this. I can.
All I need is a plan.
10
Thorn
It’s true we’re almost out of heating oil, so I’ll need to make a fire to keep us warm throughout the night.
What’s less true is that I need to go chop wood. There’s plenty of it stacked against the far side of the house. But I need to get away from Isabel for a few minutes. And some physical exertion is the best thing I can think of right now to get my mind off her and keep me from going out of my mind.
It was one thing seeing her wearing my clothes. At least that way, she was covered up more than she was wearing that tight dress we brought her here in. But now my T-shirt and sweats smell of her, meaning I can’t wear them myself, unless I want a constant reminder of her naked body warming them up.
She’s dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans that Alix sent her now. And it should be a relief, but it’s not. Somehow she manages to make even that look good. I wish she’d just stayed in the bedroom, so I could pretend she wasn’t here. Truthfully, the best chance I have of that is to keep pissing her off. The less she wants to be in the same room with me, the better off I’ll be.
The loud thwack of the ax sinking into the wood is soothing, as is the rhythmic movement of my arms as I swing it through the air. A few minutes in, I start to sweat. I pull off my cut and lay it over a log, then continue chopping. The sweat soaks through my shirt, and gets in my eyes, but I don’t stop. Instead I swinging harder, grunting every time the ax connects.
By the time I’ve chopped two cords of wood I’m exhausted, but feeling better than I have since Rock told me about this bullshit assignment. I straighten up and take a few deep breaths, enjoying the chill of the air connecting with the heat of my body. I grab up enough wood to start a decent fire. Then reluctantly, I head back to the house.
Inside, I find Isabel in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards.
“What the hell are you doing?” I bark at her.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Looking for a can opener to kill you with,” she says sarcastically. “God, Thorn, what do you think I’m doing? I’m trying to see what we have to eat. We never had lunch and now it’s almost dinner time. I’m starved.”
I want to shoot back a retort, but nothing comes to mind. Instead, I grab a beer from the fridge and watch as she moves around the room, taking stock of the groceries Beast brought. “There’s a lot of meat here,” she murmurs when she opens the refrigerator and peers in. “Haven’t you guys heard of vegetables?”
I shrug. “Next time you can give him a shopping list.” Isabel leans over to look at the bottom shelves of the fridge. I take the opportunity to stare at the way the jeans she’s wearing cup her ass. My cock hardens instantly, beginning to throb as I imagine plunging it between those cheeks and taking her doggy style against the kitchen counter.
“I need to take a shower,” I croak. The sweat drenching my shirt is starting to cool. I clear my throat. “I’ll need to tie you up for that.”
Isabel raises a brow and tilts her head at me. “Seriously?”
“Yes. No arguments. Come on.”
Shaking her head, she closes the door to the fridge. Quickly, she grabs a bag of crisps on the counter and rips it open. “At least let me eat a couple of these to tide me over.”
“Hurry it up,” I growl. She shoves a few in her mouth, giving me a look like she wants to stick out her tongue at me. Then, casually, she walks over to the chair where she was tied earlier. Holding up her arms dramatically, she looks up at me, eyes narrowed.
“Here,” she scoffs. “Since you’re too scared to leave a shoeless, unarmed girl alone for even a few seconds.”
I ignore her smart mouth and don’t respond. I can think of about a dozen ways to shut her up, at least one of which involves her lips around my cock, but unfortunately I can’t do that. Grabbing the rope off the floor, I kneel in front of her and make quick work of binding her legs to the chair. Being this close to her isn’t doing me any good. I wonder if she can tell how hard I am, or that I’m working to control my breathing.
A little roughly, I slip the rope up the back and tell her to put her arms behind her, which she does without further argument. Standing up, I take a moment just to look at her. Christ, she looks good. She’s completely helpless like that, and when she’s not shooting off her mouth it’s hard to stay angry with her. Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, I see the reflection of something I want and don’t want at the same time.
Just under the fear, a flash of desire.
She wants what I want. At least, part of her does.
It’s turning her on to be helpless like this in front of me. Just as it’s turning me on to have her here so helpless.
Isabel’s mouth opens slightly as she gazes up at me, her teeth capturing her plump bottom lip. It’s an unconscious gesture, but it draws my eyes down to her mouth. I force myself to pull them back up, and they lock back on hers. Instantly, she looks away, her cheeks pinking prettily.
“I’ll untie you when I’m out of the shower,” I tell her, turning abruptly before she has a chance to answer. Seconds later, I’m in the bathroom, door mercifully closed. I turn on the water and peel off my sweat-soaked shirt. Unbuttoning my jeans, I unzip my fly, and my cock springs free from its painful prison. Even though Isabel’s tied up outside, I almost lock the door.
Not to keep her out. To keep me in.
I’ve never turned down willing pussy in my life. Especially when it looks like her.
I can’t believe I’m walking away from her instead of taking her to that bed and fucking the life out of her.
It’s nothing to do with Oz. Him, I don’t give a shit about. If he found out I’d screwed his daughter, maybe he’d have his men come after me and pound my ass into the ground. But to fuck Isabel — to hear her scream my name as she comes all over my cock — I have a feeling it’d be worth it.
No, it’s not him I’m worried about. It’s my club. I can’t betray my president. I can’t risk an alliance that the Lords of Carnage need right now.
Why the fuck can’t Isabel have a face like a hyena, and a body to match? Instead of those dangerous fuckin’ curves. That ass like a plump peach. Tits that are just begging me to reach out and touch them. And a mouth that was made to wrap itself around my hard cock.
Stifling a groan, I step into the shower and lean against the wall. Reaching up, I grab my pulsing hard-on and start to stroke. Oh, fuck that feels good. I’m already on a hair trigger, and I feel like I’m gonna go off like some twelve year-old boy seein’ his first porno. My mind is full of Isabel, so full that I have trouble deciding on an image of what I want to do to her. I finally settle on bending her over the kitchen counter and taking her from behind like I was imagining earlier. In my mind she’s naked, her ripe, willing ass flushed and ready for the taking. I stroke a little harder as I imagine grabbing her hips and sheathing myself inside her. My balls start to tighten, and I know I’m not going to last long. Isabel gasps and takes all of me in, warm and willing. As I thrust, faster and faster, she braces herself against the counter. Looking back at me over her shoulder, she casts me a wanton, knowing look through the curtain of her hair that sends me over the edge.
I come all at once, a massive explosion that feels like it’s detonated through my entire body. It sends a blast of my load so hard against the shower wall that I actually hear it over the water. I brace myself as I shudder through the orgasm, just managing not to shout out loud with the force of it. I stand there for a few seconds, breathing heavily, until the pounding in my chest starts to slow. When I think I can stand, I grab the soap and lather up, my mind numb. Then, finally, I turn the water as cold as I can stand it, and let it wash over me for a full minute.
But even as I do, I know this was only a temporary fix for the problem I’m faced with. I’m stuck in a house alone with a woman I have to stay away from, for God knows how
long. And there’s no amount of cold water in the world that’s going to get my mind off of how badly I want to fuck Isabel.
11
Isabel
By the time Thorn comes out of the shower, it’s already starting to get a little cold in the cabin. He emerges wearing jeans and no shirt, his hair damp and glistening.
I try not to look at his chest when he comes into the room, but since he barely gives me a glance as he goes over to his bag, I can’t help but sneak a peek. He’s absolutely gorgeous, easily the best-looking man I’ve ever seen up close before. His muscled chest and arms are lined with tattoos that move when he does, making it hard not to stare in fascination. He looks positively chiseled, almost as though he’s sculpted of stone, but stone that begs to be touched, explored… clutched at…
The jeans hang low on his hips, revealing the top of a spectacular V and the hint of a treasure trail. Thorn is so muscular and massive, what I can see of him, that my mind immediately invents an image of what must be underneath his jeans. Between my legs, wetness starts to grow as I imagine the hot, hard length of him, how majestic he would look standing before me, with nothing concealing his naked body at all.
“… fire while you start dinner.”
I blink at him in confusion. My face flames. “I’m sorry, what?” I babble.
Thorn narrows his eyes at me for a moment, cocking his head. “I said, if you’re hungry, I’ll work on building a fire while you start dinner.”
Thorn has a dark gray shirt in his hand, which he yanks over his head as I try to recover my senses. “Uh, sure, that sounds good, thanks,” I stammer. He gives me a brief nod and strides over to untie me. I’m so embarrassed from being caught thinking about him in that way that I can’t even manage a sarcastic comeback. Instead, I just wait for him to turn me loose and then pad out to the kitchen without another word.
THORN: Lords of Carnage MC Page 6
