The Prisoner

by Rachael Wade

  I want her to come to me.

  Just as she slides off the desk to make her move, Chad walks away from the camera tripod and moves around the desk, stepping in front of Elise as her heels hit the floor.

  “My turn, baby.” Chad laughs beneath his breath and reaches for his fly. Elise glances between us, conflicted for a moment, but decides to resume her role as plaything and pushes her ass back up on the desk. The sight of her submitting to Chad sends my blood boiling, and in that moment I can’t hold back. I stand swiftly, my fists closing at my side. My cock is exposed and ready, and as my heart beats wildly at my chest, I realize it’s ready, too. Ready for something real. Ready for something unlike anything I’ve ever had with any other woman.

  Ready for something fucking crazy.

  And just like that, Elise Duchamp makes me mental. I surge forward and step directly behind Chad, tilting my chin up. My eyes are over his shoulder, burning into Elise’s. My jaw is tight as I grind the order out. “No more.”

  Chad freezes, but his eyes are all over my girl. His mouth is slack in disbelief. He stutters in protest. “What? Hold up, Christian. I thought—”

  “You have a hand and you know how to use it. I said no more.”

  Elise is still panting, her gaze simmering. There’s a mixture of excitement and alarm there, but it’s clear the thrill is winning out over the alarm. She’s loving this alright, and her night’s about to get that much better. I’m going to instruct her to ride me until she breaks. But first, the guys have to go.

  “We’re done here.” I send a dismissive wave in their direction. Carl and Brent are smug and satisfied—as they damn well should be—and are quick to follow my orders, but Chad is still voicing his protest.

  “Come on, man,” he groans, “just a quick fuck. She’s so ready to go.” He places his hand on the inside of her thigh, sliding his fingers over her wetness, and the sight sends me over the edge. Whether it’s being this close to him while he touches her or Elise’s blatant desire for me, not him, I snap.

  “Out. Now. All of you.” I push Chad’s hand away from her pussy.

  Chad’s frustration fills the room, but he finally relents, shaking his head and storming off. He rounds the desk and moves to the camera while Carl and Brent sigh in relief. They both begin to push off the desk and join Chad, but Elise stops them.

  “Wait,” she says, pivoting on her hip to include Chad over her shoulder. She holds Brent and Carl in place, one hand on each of their shoulders, guiding them back down to the corners of the desk. They take a seat, like lost, obedient puppies. “Keep that rolling,” she says to Chad. She slides down from the desk and pads over to my chair.

  I move to follow her. “What are you doing?”

  She points to my chair, gesturing for me to sit back down. I don’t comply right away. I’m too distracted by her body, my throbbing cock, and my friends’ lingering presence. “Sit.” I give her what she wants, sinking into the black leather. She waits until I’m comfortable before climbing onto my lap, slipping her legs over mine so she’s straddling me. She leans forward and whispers against my heated skin. “I want them to see what you do to me.”

  “What? No, Elise.”

  “Come on, Christian,” she purrs, grazing her teeth along my jaw. “Let them watch. Show them how it’s done.”

  Her head floats away from mine, drifting like a ghost in the night, and she leans back, her hands on my knees. She’s presenting herself to me, watching and waiting. Waiting for me to make the move. Waiting for me to decide. I want to give in, but it just might kill me. It’s a miracle I’m still alive at this point.

  One glance in Brent and Carl’s direction and the decision is made.

  They’re casually propped on the ledge of the desk, still smug. Still satisfied. But they have no idea. They have no idea what Elise really just needed, and they’re completely oblivious to the fact that they didn’t give it to her. Not even close. All they know is they feel damn pleased with themselves right about now. They’re not thinking about her. They’re not thinking about her pleasure.

  But I am.

  My hands find her breasts and I drop my head back against the chair, lifting my chin, bringing my gaze to hers. “If that’s what you want, baby, that’s what you’ll get.” I pluck a rubber from my pocket and roll it on, and she responds with a breathy moan, lifting her pussy and sinking onto my cock the second it’s sheathed. It’s not often she’s on top of me. I prefer to have control, like to direct her body. But right now we have something to prove, and more importantly, I have something to prove to Elise.

  Her pleasure matters to me. She matters to me. Always.

  Once again, Elise is the only one in the room. The second she begins riding me, my awareness of Brent, Carl, and Chad slips away. Everything goes blurry. All I have is my sun, above me and before me, lighting up my dark world. The one I fell into years ago, when I decided to say I Do to Kylie. The discontentment and deterioration of our marriage led me onto a path I’d never imagined for myself. One full of betrayal, secrecy, and hurt.

  In that single moment, as I watch the roll of Elise’s hips, I wonder where in the hell I went wrong.

  “Christian,” she breathes, tugging at the nape of my neck. Her fingernails dig into my skin as she uses her grip to steady herself.

  “I’m here, baby. Right here.” I shake away the sorrow, shake away the doubt and every thought that brought me to this place, the one that turned me into the unfaithful, selfish man I am today. Instead, I readjust my grip on her hips and encourage her rhythm, taking every opportunity to get my tongue and teeth on her tits. I catch a glimpse of Brent and Carl out of the corner of my eye. They’re glancing back at the camera with those pleased smirks, and I realize it’s indeed time to show them how it’s done.

  My thumb drifts down to Elise’s clit, rolling and brushing softly, urging her on as she continues to ride me. My mouth is everywhere: her throat, her shoulder, just beneath her chin, eager to taste the sweat of her sweet skin. I bring her right to the edge, can feel her muscles clench and breath quicken, and that’s when I leave my mark. The one no other man knows how to leave on this angel’s body.

  I grab onto her waist and stop her mid-ride, halting her pleasure so she cries out.

  “Christian, please,” she whines, straining against my firm grasp.

  I lean up and wrap her hair around my fingers, tugging just to the point of pain, biting down harshly on her bottom lip. “Nuh-uh,” I breathe into her mouth, my teeth still clamped tightly against her swollen red pout, “who owns this, Elise?” I withdraw from her painstakingly slowly, and she’s gasping for breath, dipping her pussy down to find my cock, but I don’t give it to her. “Come on, Elise. Who owns this?”

  “You do, damn it,” she seethes, squirming on my lap. I let her have just the tip, just enough to beg for more, but quickly withdrawal again. “Christian!”

  I can’t help the crooked smile that springs up. The wild spark in her eyes sends me tumbling into my own downward spiral of desperation—desperation to hear her come, louder than she ever has before. My sweaty fingers glide over the tops of her thighs and back up to her waist as I pick her up and spin her around. She almost loses her balance, but catches herself on the chair’s armrest. I position her ass above me, smoothing my hands down her sides, along the flare of her waist.

  “Now,” I grind my jaw, “show me who owns this.” My hand snakes around and down her torso, pressing firmly between the apex of her thighs. My fingers glide through her wetness and guide her back down onto my cock. She half sighs, half moans in relief, and resumes riding me in reverse. I sweep her long golden hair to the side of her shoulder and place hot kisses all along her spine, flicking my tongue over the sweat of her back.

  The view from this angle just doesn’t get any better.

  I pump her up and down while she works me ferociously. “Savage,” I whisper, biting into her shoulder. Her head rolls to the side and she glances back at me, eyes hooded and lips
parted. That single look does me in. My hips begin to buck up, searching for more friction, delivering more of what she needs. Her muscles respond, tensing against me, and she lets the tightly wound coil go, coming hard. Her shouts permeate the air, piercing the space around us.

  As her head falls to the side, resting on my shoulder, my shouts match her own and I empty myself into her, meeting her thrust for thrust. Slowly, we both float down, landing on one another like a soft cloud. She catches her breath, her back rising and falling against my chest, and I bring my forehead down to rest on her moist skin.

  “I own this,” I say through weak, raspy breath.

  “That was…”

  “I know.”

  I don’t have long to enjoy the post glow. Elise swiftly rises and adjusts her dress, tucking her breasts back into place. She immediately spins, searching for her bag. Her hair is wild and in her eyes. She sweeps it from her forehead and tucks it behind her ears, searching frantically.

  “There, on the floor. At the end of the desk,” I say, pointing to her purse.

  “Thanks.” Her voice is gravely quiet, so quiet it jars me and sends my nerves rattling. “I have to go.” She moves quickly, walking past Brent and Carl, not bothering to even look in Chad’s direction as she makes her way to the door.

  “Elise? Wait, babe.” I jump up, rushing to zip up my pants, but she’s damn fast. I catch the door just in time, side-stepping her. “Taking off so soon? The guys are leaving. We can go back to the hotel, just you and me. You can stay the night.”

  She shifts her head so her hair falls from behind her ear, draping the side of her face in a mysterious veil. I move to brush it back from her cheek but she flinches. I freeze. “Thanks anyway. I’ll see you around.” When she looks up, tears are brimming in her eyes. A bulldozer sucker punches me in the chest, stealing the breath from me.

  “Hey, you okay, baby?” I grab her shoulder, but she shrugs me off, quickly averting her eyes. Without another word, she slinks past me and out the door, off into the night.

  I don’t chase after her. I can’t move, can’t even think. All my brain can register is the instant emptiness I feel the second she’s gone. All I can wonder is what in the hell I’ve just gotten myself into. What has this girl done to me?

  More importantly, what have I done to her?

  SIX

  It’s my favorite day of the week. Monday. This is the day Elise is usually in my bed. It’s become our ritual, except of course for our other random weekly meetings. They’ve been few and far between lately, ever since our tryst in my office. Carl, Brent, and Chad haven’t said a word to me about Elise since that night. They must know I’m serious about Elise being off limits, even in conversation. They probably want to keep their testicles intact. Smart men. I don’t doubt they’re still reminiscing about the whole experience over beers on Friday nights. Probably bragging to their buddies in the gym locker room after workouts, too.

  Whatever.

  Not a damn thing I can do about any of it. I set it up, I initiated it, and I didn’t regret it for a minute. Not until I saw Elise’s face as she left that night, anyway. Now a deep pit of regret churns in my gut, refusing to let me forget her tear-stained face. She won’t talk to me about it. Hell, she won’t talk to me at all. She shows up, I fuck her as usual, and she’s out the door before I can blink. I don’t fight it, just let her have her way with me and then count the hours until I get to see her again.

  It’s been a pathetic cycle, but it’s one I’d much rather live with than live without.

  Right now she’s actually taking a shower before she takes off, which is pretty uncommon. Typically she rolls right out of bed, throws her clothes on, and I’m lucky if I get a goodbye. Today she’s running late for her shift, so she’s showering and changing here, then heading straight to work. I listen to the water run in the bathroom as I lounge in bed, staring at the ceiling. A thousand things spin through my mind, like divorce and monogamy and the meaning of life.

  Deep shit.

  I roll over onto my side, turning restless. I’ve yet to broach the subject of paying Elise’s tuition so she can go back to school. There’s also the other subject, the one that’s even crazier than offering to help her out financially. It’s guaranteed to scare the shit out of her, and truth be told, it scares the living shit out of me. But I already have my mind made up.

  I want her to move in with me.

  I want her to be mine, want her as my own. The whole concept is completely irrational, of course. I’m still a married man, and Elise Duchamp is still notoriously anti-commitment. But the body, mind, and heart want what they want. Who am I to deny the desire?

  Elise’s phone vibrates on the nightstand. I watch as the screen lights up, signaling a voice message. My gaze flicks over to the bathroom door. The water’s still running, and so is my mind. My heart rate picks up as I glance back at the phone, irritated by my own curiosity. I’ve never been one to give a damn who calls my girl. Not even Kylie, and she’s my wife. I always felt secure in my place—whatever that place was—in a woman’s life.

  But as that damn red light on Elise’s phone flickers, my extremities suddenly have a mind of their own.

  My arm shoots forward, reaching for the phone, while my legs swing around and over the bed. I sit up, holding the phone in my hand, glancing between the screen and the bathroom door. All it takes is the press of one little button, and I can view the mystery caller. One more button and I can hear the mystery caller, too.

  Beep.

  My gaze falls on the name. Ryder Jacobson.

  “Shit.” I recognize the name. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, and I’m beginning to think it won’t be the last. Last week, as Elise drifted off to sleep, warm and in my arms, she mumbled his name. When the nightmares began, the mumbling grew louder. Tears followed, and as she woke in a fit of panic, she flew out of bed and she was out the door without another word.

  I can’t stop myself. I begin scrolling through her call history. I’m officially a nosey bastard, but at this point, I just don’t give a damn. Something’s shifting in my life since I started seeing Elise. It makes me uneasy but at the same time fills me up, makes my blood sing like it never has before. This is both great news and shitty news, because it means I have to do something about it. I have to act on this monster that’s been slowly unfurling in my gut.

  Starting with finding out what’s so special about this Ryder Jacobson.

  With one more glance at the bathroom door, I take my snooping a step further and access Elise’s voicemail messages. There’s one from some douche named Tim, one from some lady at the local French school, and another from him: Ryder. His name makes my stomach roll, which makes no sense considering he’s just another guy she’s seeing on the side. Elise is probably just screwing him like she’s screwing me. He’s nothing special.

  So why does his name get under my skin like this?

  I push out a sharp breath and play the most recent message from him. His voice immediately sets me on edge. It’s familiar and easygoing, not pretentious or filled with condescension. It’s so…friendly.

  How nauseating.

  What rattles me to the core is that he’s clearly not just another guy. Not if she’s saying his name in her sleep. Not if she’s calling out for him when she has nightmares. There’s something to this asshole, and I’m going to find out what the hell it is and if at all possible, eliminate his presence from her life.

  Knowing Elise, it probably wouldn’t make a damn of a difference if this Ryder guy wasn’t around anymore. She’d still find someone else. I’d never be the only man in her life. I’d always be competing, always be hoping that she’d consider being mine and mine alone someday.

  “Shit.” She’s not my girl. She’s not my girl.

  I hang my head and drop her phone on the bed. The water stops running in the bathroom and I jump up, making sure the phone is back in its original place.

  Elise emerges a few seconds later, draped in
a towel. I will never get over seeing this girl with wet hair. “Damn, I’m so late.” She hurries over to the nightstand to retrieve her phone. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even see me. She walks back to the bathroom and begins combing her hair, wrapping it up in a tight, wet bun.

  I watch her carefully, praying like hell she can’t tell I screwed with her property. “Your boss seems cool. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  “Mmmhhhm.” She’s still multitasking, tying her bun and staring at her phone.

  “So, hey…I know this isn’t a good time but there’s something I really want to talk to you about.” I move to the bathroom and lean on the doorway, eyeing her in the mirror. She still doesn’t look at me.

  “Okay, well you’re going to have to make it quick. I gotta run.” She finishes securing her bun and drops her towel to snatch her uniform from the counter. My gaze falls on the white lace panties and bra she’s slipping into, and my brain fights to focus.

  “Can we do dinner this weekend?” I swallow hard, losing my nerve. This is bad timing. Bad, bad, bad. She’ll freak. She’ll run. I just know it. “Maybe we can talk about it then?”

  She slips into her skirt and top next. Her expression’s indifferent. I know this expression very well. It’s a cool mask of nothingness, but beneath it is a sea of sirens, alerting her to something dangerous, warning her to flee. “We don’t do dinner. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Let’s switch it up. Do something different.”

  “We can talk in bed. Next time.” She hurries past me the second her uniform is in place. My head falls back against the door frame and I work to reel myself in. I’m close to saying something I know I’ll regret. This is shaky ground, and I have to be fucking careful. Steady like a rock.

  “Elise, we haven’t talked in days. You don’t talk to me anymore, period. I just want to know if you’re…if you’re okay. You know, after the night in the office.”

  “If I’m okay?” She grabs her bag and freezes. “You don’t have to worry about me, remember? I’m not yours to worry about.”