“Yes, please,” she murmured.
To her surprise, Zander rolled her over onto her stomach. “Get up on your knees.”
She craned her head to stare at him. He swatted her once, just hard enough to make her gasp. “I said get up on your knees—with your head resting on the bed. Unless you’d like another spanking for disobeying me?”
She scooted up.
“That’s right. Now spread your legs. Wider.”
The next instant, his tongue traced a hot wet path down the crack of her ass. The two-day growth of beard on his face scraped against her stinging bottom as he buried his face between her cheeks. Wild hunger drove all thoughts of decency and shame out of her mind. She arched her back, offering herself to his probing tongue.
He rimmed her tight back hole and Cass nearly screamed. How could he know her secrets so well? She’d dreamed of having her ass played with but never had the nerve to admit it to a lover. Now this stranger had her panting and thrusting herself back against him, reveling in the sensations. He stopped and she moaned. But it was only to run a finger inside her pussy. He brought it back out coated with enough of her own wetness to allow him to slide it through the tight rear opening, up into her ass.
Cass moaned, tossing her head from side to side. He reached down with his other hand and began playing with her clit again, taking it between finger and thumb to stroke it into a hard button, throbbing and pulsing in his hand. She rocked back and forth against his hands, each time taking his finger deeper into her ass. He crouched over her and ran his tongue around her hot cheeks. She shuddered as the sting of his beard rubbing against her inflamed skin sent a shock wave of raw hunger through her.
Bucking and panting, she let go, let him take her over the edge. His finger probed deeper, hot and hard as it invaded her virgin ass. The orgasm tore through her, leaving her weak and trembling.
Zander flipped her over. With a powerful lunge, he buried himself in her pussy. Her body responded instinctively. She arched her back and ground herself against him. He slid out almost all the way and she moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist to draw him back in.
She heard a rumble from deep in his chest. Then all thought flew out of her head as he rammed back into her like a pile driver. He rose up over her, the muscles in his arms as rigid as his cock. His sleek, powerful body gleamed in the firelight, while his face was shadowed, unreadable. Cass clenched her own tight muscles around the thick hardness filling her.
With a roar, he took over then. Fucking her fast and deep, so all she could do was to take him in. He possessed her, conquered her. Took them both to the edge over and over, then backed off, leaving her crying out for release. She threw back her head and raked her nails across his back, uttering wild little cries as she bucked up against him.
He started in again, building the rhythm of his thrusts. Her heart pounded in her chest like the driving beat of music swelling to a crescendo. She felt his body quivering, knew he was close to coming, sheer will holding him back. Cass tightened her pussy around him and exploded. Wave after wave flooded through her, rocking her body to the core. He came then, as though all he’d been waiting for was her release. She felt his cock pulsing inside her as her own powerful contractions milked every drop from it.
With a final shudder, his body slumped over hers, limp and sated. Cass rocketed back into reality. Her captor, the man who kidnapped her and held her against her will, just fucked her—and she’d participated. Not just participated. She’d practically begged him to do it. Suddenly disgusted with herself, she tried to shove him off, but his arms tightened around her.
That’s when she lost it. Screaming, kicking, writhing around under him. Fists beating against his back. She dissolved into tears, heart-wrenching sobs torn from deep in her gut.
Zander pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“Get off me! Let me go!”
He rolled over on his side, trapping her body against his with those powerful arms. “Sssh. It’s okay. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She struggled frantically. “You did! You did! You hurt me sooo bad,” she wailed.
He nestled her body against his massive chest. “The spanking?”
“No… it was… what you did after.” She collapsed again, crying so hard she could barely speak.
His voice grew low, almost soothing. “Tell me. What did I do—after—to hurt you?”
“You didn’t just spank me. You… you beat me. I begged you to stop. I screamed, I pleaded with you. But you went crazy. Hitting me. With your fists. Everywhere…”
Chapter Four
Her voice trailed off. She froze, her body rigid.
Zander realized the emotions brought on by the spanking, then the intense orgasm, had transported her somewhere else. For those few moments, she hadn’t been with him. She’d been lost in the past, in whatever traumatic event she hinted at during the conversation that ended so abruptly in the car.
He chose his next words carefully. “I’m sorry the bastard hurt you so badly, Cass. But that wasn’t me. There’s a difference between a spanking and a beating. What I delivered was a spanking and I’m not sorry I spanked you. You broke the rules and you got punished. Your punishment is over now. And if you follow the rules, you won’t be punished again.”
She lay there in his arms, stiff and unmoving.
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry for what happened between us afterwards either,” he went on. “Because I’m not. But I promise you—it won’t happen again.”
He rolled off the bed. Grabbing his jeans and boxers from the floor, he slipped them on. “You can stay there. If you behave, I won’t make you sleep tied up. I’ll be out on the couch, between you and the door. And I’ll tell you flat out, I’m a very light sleeper. You think that spanking was harsh? Unless you want your ass really blistered, you’d better not try anything else.”
He forced himself to walk out of the room, even though every fiber in his body cried out for him not to leave. Cass Newcombe was dangerous. He’d let himself go with her. He was the one who deserved to have his ass whipped. He’d broken his own rule number one—keep it strictly business. He’d never gotten involved with anyone like that before, knowing it would be impossible to do his job if he did.
Cass came across strong and confident, but he’d sensed from the beginning that inside her was a vulnerable soul. He recognized it because he hid his own vulnerability under a street-wise veneer of bravado. He never planned on taking her hostage. She’d walked in at the wrong time and he’d been forced to improvise. Once they were in her car, there never seemed to be a good time to dump her. Too many other cars on the road, too many people hanging around the gas stations and convenience stores.
It only got worse when they crossed the line into North Carolina. He didn’t dare drop her off on the side of an empty road. The sheriff’s department patrolled this whole area. With cell phone service sporadic in the mountains, deputies hit even the remote county lanes at least once every twenty-four hours, in case someone was stranded out here in the wilderness with car trouble.
She’d have been picked up and then they’d have begun searching the whole area, concentrating on cabins that sat empty most of the year. When he was finally caught less than twenty miles from here, the Atlanta bomber claimed he’d lived off the land. But rumor among law enforcement officials had it that he’d been taken in by a local, a conspiracy theorist who sympathized with his radical agenda.
They said Rudolph actually spent most of that five years hiding in the old man’s off-the-grid cabin built in the center of a forty-acre spread. It was only after the man died and his property went up for sale that Rudolph was forced to head into the wilderness. He’d lasted only a few months before hunger drove him to sneak into town at night and go dumpster diving. Admitting the truth would have ruined his self-sufficient mountain man image.
Ever since, Homeland Security had been keeping a database of remote, seldom-used cabins all
over the country. Zander knew that’s where the cops would begin their search once Cass told her story. So he was stuck with her for the time being. He sighed heavily, stuffed a throw pillow under his head and crammed his bulk onto the couch.
Ruthlessly, he tried to purge his mind of the feel of her body under his. The sound of those wordless little cries she made as she came. The taste of her. The heady scent of her pussy, so wet and so hot as he rammed his cock inside her. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, only to have her appear in his dream, running through the woods stark naked, laughing as she challenged him to spank her again.
The next morning they settled into an uneasy truce. Zander woke up first and scrounged in the kitchen, coming up with a tin of coffee. He filled a battered metal pot with water, setting it on the propane stove to boil, then dumping in half a dozen heaping tablespoons and turning off the gas so it would steep. Cass came out from the bedroom, fully dressed, one hand massaging her forehead, and sniffed the air.
“Is that coffee I smell? Oh, God, do I need a cup of that!”
“Headache?” he asked.
“I’m not sure what I have qualifies as a headache. It feels like that axe I saw outside is embedded in the back of my skull.”
“You’re dehydrated. Caffeine won’t help that. We’re at an elevation of about 3,500 feet here. You need to drink a whole lot more water than you do back home. Here.”
He filled a glass from the faucet and handed it to her. Cass drained half of it before coming up for air.
“Well water? This is good,” she remarked, sounding surprised. “Lots better than any well water I’ve had before. There’s no nasty aftertaste.” She finished it and handed the glass back for a refill.
“You know those mountain springs they show on the labels of bottled water in the stores? Well, you’re drinking from one of them. A few miles from here, there’s a big tract of land that’s already passed all the tests for the owners to sell their water commercially.”
“You know an awful lot about this area,” she remarked casually.
“Yeah, I do.” His tone was flat.
She tried again. “You must have spent a lot of time in these mountains.”
He shrugged. “Some.”
“Growing up in Chicago, I dreamed of spending summers in a place like this. Exploring in the woods, picking wild berries, making s’mores over a campfire.”
Silently, he poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
“So how about you? Were you lucky enough to spend time around here as a kid?”
He sighed. The woman was like one of those yapping little ankle-biters. She latched onto something and just wouldn’t let it go. “Give it up, Cass. I’m not going to suddenly be overcome with a wave of nostalgia and spill my guts so you can get a heart-wrenching scene to put in your latest book.”
“Fine,” she snapped. She took a tentative sip of the coffee and made a face. “I don’t suppose there’s any sugar?”
“Oh, you’re going to be fun to be around today. Altitude headache, caffeine withdrawal, and no sugar fix.”
“You mean this is decaf? Just kill me now and put me out of my misery.”
“I’m considering it,” he muttered.
She took another sip. “Where did you put my shoes?”
“I got rid of them.”
“Are you crazy? Those were $400 shoes! Not to mention the fact that now I’ll have to go outside barefoot.”
“I don’t plan on having you go outside at all. But if you do try to run away again, I doubt if you’ll get far sprinting through the woods shoeless. With all those briars and sharp rocks out there, not to mention the copperhead I saw yesterday, you’ll be huddled on the ground, whining, before you get fifty yards from this place. Or maybe you’d prefer that I just tie you up again?”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and caught her blush. She must have been picturing the same thing he was—the way his hands had fondled her breasts and lingered between her legs when he tied her up last night.
“N… no,” she stammered. “I’ll just stay inside.”
“Too bad.” His glance became a leer. “Tying you up—and then untying you later to spank your ass and fuck you—was a great way to kill time.”
He hated himself for saying it, hated the stricken look that came into her eyes. But he didn’t want her thinking that just because they’d had sex, she was free to treat this as a romantic getaway with a new boyfriend. Fucking her had been a mistake, but it was one he was determined not to repeat. No matter how sexy she looked. Her face scrubbed free of makeup, the sunlight glinting off her long hair, her bare feet tucked up under her on the couch; she gave off a well-fucked vibe that made him want to take her right back to bed.
He forced himself to look away and began rummaging through the cabinets. “There’s flour and baking powder and half a bottle of syrup. Can you make pancakes?”
“Sure. Find me a box of Aunt Jemima just-add-water and I’m your girl.” Her voice sounded determinedly cheery. Good. She’d put on her brave “it didn’t mean anything to me either” face.
“Never mind.” He found a mixing bowl and set to work. Neither of them had eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. Maybe these wouldn’t be the best pancakes ever, but at least they’d be hot and filling.
* * *
She watched him bustle around the kitchen with a mixture of lust and confusion. The man had kidnapped her, tied her up, spanked her ass, and then fucked her better than anyone she’d ever been with. She should be frightened out of her wits, but every instinct told her Zander Coleman, a man on the run who’d admitted to brutal crimes, would never really hurt her.
As the day wore on, she became more and more certain of it. Sure, he talked big. He’d threatened to tie her up again, made it sound like he’d practically raped her last night. But she’d never heard of a rapist who held off his own satisfaction until his victim had come—twice—then cradled her gently in his arms afterwards. Or a ruthless kidnapper who served pancakes and coffee to his hostage. She’d met her share of dangerous psychopaths. Something about this one didn’t ring true.
Maybe it was his eyes. The other men she’d interviewed, every one of them, had cold, dead eyes. They’d smile and laugh, but their eyes never reflected it. Zander’s eyes could be cold at times. But when he laughed, genuinely laughed, they sparkled with warmth. And when he looked at her, they didn’t hold rabid lust. Desire, yes. Even hunger at times. But not the kind of hunger that had her backing away in fear. Instead, it was the kind of hunger that made her long to satisfy it, spreading her legs so he could ram his thick cock into her over and over until she screamed.
But she’d been fooled in the past and she didn’t, couldn’t trust her instincts any more. So she kept her distance. She sat at the small dining table, typing on the laptop he’d grudgingly allowed her to dig out of her bag. Already partway through a rough outline of the book she’d write from this experience, she stayed busy making notes, putting down tiny details about the cabin so that later her readers could see it and feel it and even smell it. That is, assuming she was right about him and she lived to write it.
He’d cleaned up the kitchen, gone out to bring in an armload of wood they’d need for the fireplace tonight. But he hadn’t said another word. Now he’d been sitting, unmoving, just staring at the cold ashes, for over an hour. He glanced over at her.
“We’ll need more wood for tonight. I’m going out back to chop some. There’s no Internet here, so I know you can’t email anyone for help. There’s no cell service either, but I’m still taking my phone with me, so don’t bother looking for it.” He got up and headed for the door. “Stay put till I come back in.”
The minute the door closed behind him, Cass shot to her feet. Her suitcase and cosmetic bag were back in the hotel room she’d checked into in Atlanta, so all she had were the clothes on her back. He was right. She wouldn’t get far in the woods barefoot. But the dress shoes
he’d worn yesterday were around here somewhere. With a pair of socks stuffed into the toes, she could wear those and get through the thorny briars as far as the car. She had a spare key hidden above the rear tire, in one of those magnetic key boxes. As soon as she heard him chopping, she’d make a mad dash for the car and be gone.
He changed clothes in the loft last night, so the shoes must be up there. She took the stairs at a dead run.
One big open space overlooking the first floor, the loft had four single beds lined up across from the log railing, dormitory-style. Glass covered most of one side wall up here too, so that guests could wake up and fall asleep to that magnificent view. On the other side of the room, a couple of battered wooden dressers sat on either side of a smaller window.
Zander’s suit lay where he’d tossed it on one of the beds, with his shoes on the floor right below it. She snatched up the shoes and spent a few precious seconds opening and closing drawers. Finally she found one holding a pile of Wal-Mart–style plaid boxers and some rolled-up socks. She stuffed a pair into the toes of each shoe and took another pair to wear.
Back downstairs, she risked a peek out the rear window. He’d stripped off his t-shirt and was hard at work, a fine sheen of sweat covering impressive muscles that rippled under his skin with every move. He had a couple of nasty scars on his lower back that she hadn’t noticed last night. Knife wounds? Bullet holes? From here it was impossible to tell. In his line of work, it could have been either.
She spared a few extra moments to drink in the sight of him. Balancing a large, cut log upright on an old stump, he’d swing the axe, imbedding it deeply in the wood. Then he’d lift his arms, bringing both the axe and the round log up in the air, before slamming them down again on the stump. With a sharp crack, the wood split in two. The blade kept on going, burying itself in the tree stump. He’d heave the axe blade out of the stump, pick up one of the broken halves, stand it on end, and do it again until he reduced the round log into wedges small enough to catch fire easily.
Taken and Tamed Page 5
