Summer Camp Captive

by Alexa Riley

  Summer Camp Captive

  by

  Alexa Riley and Jessa Kane

  Contents

  Summer Camp Captive

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Pound of Flesh

  Chapter 1

  More from Jessa Kane

  Trailer Park Virgin

  Chapter 1

  Also by Alexa Riley

  Stalk the Author

  Summer Camp Captive

  By Alexa Riley and Jessa Kane

  Lainey has heard the ghost stories of the beast in the woods, but one night around a campfire she discovers some legends are true.

  The Butcher has watched her from a distance, but he’s a man with needs and won’t deny himself any longer.

  Warning: We’ve teamed up with Jessa Kane again to bring you filthy, over-the-top hotness. It’s ridiculously fun, so don’t be shy! Grab your marshmallows and join us for this dirty treat!

  Copyright © 2017 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to riley_alexa@aol.com

  http://alexariley.com/

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

  For Maya…

  you filthy, filthy woman

  Love,

  AR and JK

  Chapter One

  Lainey

  “Legend has it that the Butcher of Braxton Lake stalks these campgrounds, just waiting for one of you to step out of line…”

  I roll my eyes at my fellow camp counselor’s story and go back to fixing my s’more. This is my first week at Camp Brax, but I quickly learned tried and true methods for keeping the campers in line. Fear.

  With a flashlight poised below her chin, the counselor continues to weave the phony tale, while our charges sit huddled around the campfire, their noses sunburned from a day of swimming in the pool.

  “That sound you hear coming from the forest late at night? The grinding and snapping? That’s the Butcher sharpening his teeth on the trees. He needs them to be sharp as spikes, because they’re his weapon of choice for subduing prey.” The counselor pauses for dramatic effect. “He can’t wield an actual knife, on account of his hook hands!”

  On cue, I prod the fire with my coat hanger, sending sparks swirling into the warm night air. Squeals ring out from the terrified campers, and I bite back a chuckle. I would have loved this as a kid. Sitting around a fire, linking arms with my friends, knowing tomorrow would be another day filled with adventure. My squeals would have been fake, though. When I was their age, I was too busy being scared of real monsters to worry about fabricated ones.

  Still am.

  A crunch comes from the forest behind me, raising goosebumps on my arms. No one else seems to notice, they’re so wrapped up in the story, and I decide I must be overtired. After taking several northbound buses from Texas to reach Michigan, I hit the ground running three days ago, having campers assigned to me and organizing nonstop activities. I’m not complaining, though. The preteen campers couldn’t be sweeter or easier to manage. Although, I’m guessing that’s going to change tonight when they’re all tossing and turning with nightmares.

  A too-smooth hand glides along the breadth of my shoulders, and I leap to my feet, spinning around and brandishing my coat hanger like a sword. Somewhere in the woods, I swear I hear a furious growl, but I focus on the immediate threat. “What the—” My heart dislodges from my throat when I see who touched me, but my skin continues to crawl. “Dammit, Manny.”

  “Sorry, babe. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Camp Brax is a coed camp, but the male bunks are located on the other side of the grounds. After dinner, the male and female campers go their separate ways, so he definitely shouldn’t be here right now. “Do you need something?”

  “Now there’s a loaded question.” A suggestive grin spreads across his mouth as he tightens his ponytail. “I came to see if you were up for a night walk. Thought we could check out the stars.”

  The words drop dead sit on the tip of my tongue, but I’m the newbie and can’t afford to alienate myself. Needing to get out of Texas pronto, I found the camp counselor advertisement on Craigslist, applied and did a phone interview. My babysitting experience landed me the job and I left the next day. No one would ever think to search for me here. If I start making enemies or offending people, I might not get another cushy gig so soon. Still, I’m not going anywhere with this guy. He’s been a little too welcoming, and I don’t want to give the false impression that I’m interested.

  “Um.” I turn to find the campers watching Manny and me, whispering and giggling behind their hands. “Mind if I take a raincheck? I’m going to have twenty traumatized girls on my hands tonight.”

  A flash of annoyance flits across his features, and I congratulate myself on seeing through his affable hippy façade. “Sure, sure.” His smile is tight. “I’ll just ask again tomorrow. You’ll have no reason to say no then, right?”

  Again, I swear I hear an ominous rumble coming from the darkness. Both Manny and I look up at the sky to check for rainclouds, but it’s such a clear night, I can count the stars. “Right.” I reassure myself by remembering the Swiss Army knife in my boot. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Two

  Carver

  Enough. I’m taking her tonight.

  There might have been a slight chance I could leave her alone—very, very slight—but as soon as another man dared to touch her, I knew resisting my growing need for the girl was hopeless. Mine. Mine, motherfucker.

  In the decade since I moved to these woods, the camp has been in operation during the summer months. I’ve been a casual observer from the trees, shrugging off their stories about me. Until now. Three days ago, the little tomboy princess arrived, and I’ve been living in misery ever since. My cock hangs stiff and aching in the leg of my pants, throbbing to the sound of her name.

  Lainey.

  She’s too beautiful to be real. The firelight flickers and a glow dances across her skin, almost bringing me to my knees. I stay upright, though, knowing if I hit the ground, they will hear my cursed bulk landing, and run for their lives. If they run, I’ll be forced to enter the main section of the camp and take her. It’s happening now, come hell or high water.

  I’d just managed to convince myself I’m not a freak. That I’m not a terrifying being that lurks in the forest, waiting to snatch an innocent victim. Turns out, the stories they tell about me around the campfire are true. Mostly.

  I’m not going to tear the tomboy princess apart with my teeth, though, as the legend claims I’m wont to do. I’m simply going to keep her. Forever.

  How ha
s she walked freely on this earth without another male laying claim? That weak bastard with the ponytail is only one of the men in camp I’ve heard whispering about her. They watch her walk past in her denim shorts and adjust themselves, thinking no one is watching. After tonight, none of them will get another chance to look at her. Speak with her. Exist in the same air as her.

  My hand rips a strip of bark off the nearest tree, a roar kindling in my throat. No more waiting. Every second that passes when she’s not in my possession is like acid racing down my back. I’ve spent the last three days trying to calm the savage need she’s awoken inside me, but it grows and grows, crowding out logic. Logic left over from a past life. A life I only remember in my nightmares.

  I’m her nightmare.

  The very idea of scaring her has my fist connecting with a tree, leaving it tilted sideways, roots sticking out of the earth. I don’t want to be the beast that steals her away from her normal life, but being without her is making me more insane by the second. Need to touch her. Need to know what’s behind her secret smiles. She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever seen through the trees…or in that long-ago life. No, there’s something broken in her, and my chest is fracturing with the need to mend her wounds.

  Taking her as my captive is the only way. She will be terrified at first, but soon she will realize I mean only to guard and feed her. My body’s need for Lainey will not wait, unfortunately. I’ve gone a decade without touching another human being, but the lack of contact never registered until I saw her that first day, diving off the diving board in her red bikini. Now I’m hard and dripping and raw. No amount of self-pleasure satisfies me. I might not even make it back to my home before prying apart her legs and thrusting until the pain goes away.

  I begin to trudge through the woods, toward the ring of light, but my step falters when I think of Lainey screaming. When I think of her horror upon seeing me up close, especially after being told such horrible stories about me for the last three days. Of course, most of those legends are bullshit, but she won’t know that. I’m simply a man who never fit into polite society. My inability to blend in only got worse after returning from overseas with my injuries. My memories.

  A squeeze of discomfort in my throat propels me forward. Slowly, my determination settles back down on my shoulders. Her presence is the first thing to ever soothe my demons. What will happen when I’m finally touching her?

  I’m closer now and I watch through the trees as the campers begin to look around, scooting closer to one another. It’s no wonder, since the ground trembles with every step I take. Lainey takes a protective step toward them, then turns…and looks directly at me. She doesn’t scream, she just waits.

  She waits. For me?

  No. But I can pretend.

  With heaven in sight, my breath seizes in my lungs. My hands begin to shake with the force of my hunger. Nothing will stop me now. She’s within reach. I push through the tree line to a chorus of deafening screams, children scattering in every direction. I notice absently that ponytail man runs, too, which I count as a good thing, because I don’t think committing murder is the best way to introduce myself to my bride.

  I stop in front of Lainey and groan down at her. Way down. She’s so much shorter than me, her head tipped back, eyes full of shock. Christ almighty. She’s even more incredible up close than I could have imagined, so fresh and clean and supple. From my vantage point, I can see down her white tank top to her sweet, braless tits, and stop just short of coming in my pants. “You will…” I have to stop to catch my breath, the need to fuck her is so overwhelming. “You will come with me now.”

  When she faints, I catch her body, lifting her off the ground so I can smell her hair, the curve of her neck. Ignoring the pinch in my chest—a product of scaring her into unconsciousness—I carefully place her over my shoulder and return to the woods.

  Chapter Three

  Lainey

  Okay. He thinks I passed out, so I’ve bought myself some time.

  First of all, what the fucking fuck?

  Is he human? No. No way. They don’t make people this huge. Judging from my proximity to the ground right now, he’s safely in the eight-foot range, and that phenomenon doesn’t even account for his build. Somewhere, there is a professional football team that doesn’t know what they’re missing, because my abductor could take on an entire offensive line with his arm span and otherworldly size. He’s a living, breathing giant, top to bottom.

  I saw him coming through the trees. Why didn’t I run?

  Because I knew. I saw the intensity in the eyes peeking through his unruly hair and I knew I was his target. There was no escaping. On the far-off chance I was wrong, I wanted to distract him from the girls, so I stayed put. Surely, this is the Butcher of Braxton Lake, right? There can’t be more than one hulking barbarian living in these woods. Unless he has a brother.

  With that thought, I begin to wonder if I’m going into shock. Although in my panic, I didn’t imagine that he’s indeed scarred. The white, puckered lengths of them crisscross on his cheeks, his neck. Another one bisects his lip. With so much dark, unkempt hair hanging in his face, I couldn’t take in the full effect of him, but what I saw told me the stupid campfire stories are true. Except the part about his hook hands. No, the hand creeping up the back of my bare thigh is most certainly not made of metal. It’s hot and callused…

  …and needy.

  He’s taking me somewhere for sex.

  This literal giant wants to use me for pleasure.

  I’ve been on the run since I turned sixteen two years ago. I’ve stayed as far as possible from the people who terrify me most, so it has been a while since I felt an immediate sense of fear. It creeps into my chest now and makes itself at home. I’m no expert in physics, but I’m pretty sure sex with someone this size will hurt. Bad. Maybe even enough to kill me. At least I won’t die a virgin?

  Comforting.

  Forcing my breathing to remain even, I take stock of my options. I’m not going to win in hand-to-hand combat—that’s for certain. I might throw a decent punch, but it’ll feel like a brush of butterfly wings to this guy. My only hope is the knife in my boot, but even if I hit an artery, how long will it take for blood loss to weaken this giant mofo? A month?

  It seems like an hour passes before we reach a small clearing. He’s breathing heavily, his mammoth shoulder rippling beneath my stomach, but his rapid-fire inhales and exhales don’t seem to be a product of fatigue. No, the hand on my thigh has crept progressively higher, and his fingers are now inside my shorts, tracing the crack of my backside. Every few steps, he releases a heavy growl…the same growl I heard while Manny was asking me on that walk, I realize.

  Did the giant…dislike Manny speaking to me? Jealousy seems to be a pretty human reaction. Maybe he wasn’t spat out from the depths of hell, as I originally thought. I sure as shit won’t be sticking around to find out, though.

  In my periphery, I spy a small cabin. It’s tidier than his appearance and kind of homey-looking for someone referred to as the Butcher. Still, I can’t let him take me inside there. Can’t get stuck in a locked structure or my chances of freedom will be reduced. If I’m going to make a move, I have to make it outside. Now.

  With a soothing, almost pained sound that surprises and confuses me, he eases me off his shoulder, settling me on the ground, up against his huge body. My cheek only reaches his stomach, but I can’t take the time to marvel over his rock-solid form—or his sort of pleasing masculine musk. Knowing my window of escape narrows by the second, I drop fast as I can and retrieve my knife, flipping it open. Taking advantage of his momentary shock—and recalling my anatomy lessons—I punch the blade toward his inner thigh—

  His hand catches my wrist before the blade can sink in. “You were not sleeping, were you?”

  “What tipped you off?” I pant, trying to pry my hand free. “Let me go.”

  I swing a knee up, aiming for his groin, but he only uses his grip on my wrist to unb
alance me, so I miss. “You are stronger than you look.”

  He deflects my kick with a hip made of stone, and I sag in surrender. For now. “I must look pretty weak, since I’m totally biffing it here.”

  “Not weak,” he grunts, grabbing at his chest and making a pained sound. Am I crazy or does me going limp seem to cause him discomfort? Shifting on his gigantic feet, he clears his throat and looks off in the distance. “Pretty. You are very…pretty.”

  It’s only now that I realize we’ve been having a conversation. And this real, live nightmare has just called me pretty. “Are you trying to lull me into a false sense of security before you skin me alive or what?” I think back to the stories I’ve been listening to for three days. “That seems even crueler than using my bones as toothpicks.”

  Shame passes over his damaged features so fast, I’m sure I missed it. “You were sleeping. I—” He catches himself, that scarred upper lip pulling into a scowl. “Drop the knife. It can’t save you.”

  “Can’t save me from what?”

  Leaning toward me, he bares his teeth. “The Butcher, of course.”

  Once again, fear snakes in through my ribs, making me cold. “I thought it might be you.”