Snatched

by Cathleen Ross

  Ugh! This mud. She grimaced. Even now she could hear the squish of it under her feet, feel it oozing between her toes as she hid behind a nest of scraggly trees. Mosquitoes zoomed by her ears and settled on her skin. Bugs disgusted her, but she refrained from slapping them.

  “Stacey!”

  She heard Beast calling, his voice deep and smoky. A man like that would fuck her until she couldn’t walk. Worse, she’d enjoy it.

  Not happening. Beast was like a lure to a fish. Once caught, she’d be hooked. He was too handsome, too built, too damned irresistible. Dark-haired looks with the kind of impenetrable brown eyes that had seen too much.

  And he’d looked at her pussy like he’d wanted to devour her.

  She knew her weakness all too well. College boys she could resist because there was nothing dangerous about them, nothing alluring. Beast was different. There was something about his predatory intractability that appealed to her.

  It called to the wildness she kept carefully suppressed.

  Despite his threats, Beast had been gentle with her. There was not one bruise on her body. Nevertheless, she had to get out of there.

  Because he meant to have her. Worse, she wanted him, too. Had from the moment she’d first met him. His lust had curled around them like smoke. But he was a taste of the wild side that she feared she wouldn’t come back from.

  One sibling gone crazy was plenty.

  So, gators or not, she wasn’t foolish enough to remain on the track. She slipped into the trees and let the darkness cloak her.

  Something slithered around her bare leg, making its way upward, its head brushing her knee. A scream froze in her throat, clogged it like the clay at her ankles. She glanced down just as the flashlight danced a jagged flicker across the copse of trees where she stood.

  A snake, brown and black patterned, had curled around her leg, its body cool and smooth on her skin. She gasped. Once bitten, death would be agony.

  She heard the crack of Beast’s boots on wood as he came close. The snake raised its head and shook its tail menacingly as the biker stopped opposite.

  “Don’t move, Stacey,” Beast warned. “It’s deadly.”

  No shit. Her traitorous body trembled from head to foot, even though she willed it to be still, but the thought of the bite the snake could inflict overwhelmed her. She could hear the rattling of her lungs, her fear raspy and brittle.

  Beast backed away, his movements slow and easy. “Looks like a cottonmouth. It’ll attack if I come close. It’s warning me off.”

  He retreated into the darkness, his flashlight illuminating the ground close to her but no longer directly on the snake. The serpent quieted, uncoiled, and slithered down over her foot, its body rustling on the forest debris as it went on its way.

  A moment later, Beast surged forward, his flashlight roving back and forth. “Come.” He held out his hand, and she took it, even though she was naked and vulnerable and terrified, because her choices had shut up shop.

  And if she didn’t get another puff on her asthma medication, her lungs would, too.

  Chapter Five

  Mud hung in strings down Stacey’s long blonde hair. Her chest was smeared like a Native American covered in war paint. She was still beautiful and smart. Her camouflage might have worked had Troy not heard her sharp intake of breath thanks to the cottonmouth, bless its viperous heart.

  He grabbed her forearm and forced her up the stairs into the cabin and straight into the bathroom. “You’re dirty, girl.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “You need to get cleaned up.”

  “Let me guess. You think you’re just the man to do it,” she said, twisting against his grip, though her efforts were futile.

  The metal bathtub had a set of taps below and a shower overhead but no curtain because he liked things simple. “Get in, Stacey.”

  “Quit ordering me around.” Her face twisted in anger.

  He was too tired and annoyed to fight with her. He grabbed her and deposited her in the bath standing up. “Little fool. You’ve got biting bugs in your hair.”

  She cried out in dismay.

  “Start washing yourself.” He turned on the bath taps and handed her the flexible shower nozzle.

  He strode back to the kitchen counter, snatched up the inhaler, returned to the bathroom and gave it to her. She grabbed it, put it to her mouth, and sucked hard.

  “It was stupid to run. Every poisonous, crawling, slithering creature out there is looking to mate this time of year.”

  She shoved the inhaler back into his hand. “You fit in well, then.”

  He put the inhaler down on the bathroom bench. Despite her sassy mouth, he could see desperation in her eyes. She was trapped. And cruel as it was beautiful, it gave him a sense of satisfaction to own a butterfly. “I like my women clean. Give me the shower nozzle.”

  “Clean? Hah! I thought bikers went with hoes.”

  “That’s not nice, Stacey. I don’t think of you as a ho.”

  He took hold of the shower nozzle and sprayed it over her back, stroking away the dirty smears, reverently, as if she were a work of art. Which she kind of was. Her skin was soft and sweet, colored like a vanilla milkshake that he’d like to suck on.

  He followed up with soap, washing it over her shoulder blades to get the stink of the bog off. He couldn’t bear it staining her perfection. As his fingers traced over the delicate nodules of her spine, goose bumps rose around her rib cage and, if he didn’t know better, he’d say she was enjoying him touching her.

  She wiggled as he stroked her bottom, responding to his lingering touch. He bet she’d writhe when he sucked on her clit.

  “Where’d you plan to run in the dark?” he casually asked.

  “Away from you.” She glanced back at him, her face wary.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. Again.

  “You’re going to hurt Brian. I have to try and save him.”

  “You’re not his keeper.” Troy gave her a wry look. “What are you really afraid of?”

  “Sex. With. You.”

  He grinned at the thought of that. She had an awed look in her eyes when she said the words. Maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided. “I’ll make sure you want it.”

  “I won’t,” she shot back, clearly eyeing the boner in his jeans.

  He knew a lie when he heard it. He soaped his right palm under the tap then slid it between her thighs, the ridge of his thumb brushing against her folds. “Yeah, you will. You’re already soft and slippery. Wouldn’t take much to make you come.”

  She slapped away his hand. “Is this your normal behavior?” She rolled her shoulders as he rose and pushed her long hair away from her neck.

  He grinned even though she couldn’t see it. “Define normal.”

  “Kidnapping women.”

  “More rewarding than kidnaping men.” He massaged her shoulders because he loved touching her, feeling her birdlike bones under her silky skin.

  She turned and met his eyes. “You snatched me like a professional. You’ve done it before.”

  Damn, the woman was astute. “That right?”

  “You’re military.”

  He looked at her with respect. She’d nailed it in one, even though his hair was longer so he’d fit in with the Arabs. How the hell did she do that? Or maybe her brother had said something.

  She swallowed. “Do you plan to punish me for running?”

  He tipped his head. “Do you want me to? I could put you over my knee. Some women get off on that.” Fuck, he was rock-hard at the thought.

  She turned away. “As if.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind. I can think of plenty of interesting ways to pass the time while we wait to swap you.”

  “I have a business to run. One of Dad’s people is stealing from the shop. I can’t spend time caged up here with you, fulfilling your pathetic sex fantasies.”

  “Then your brother had better play ball and return Lizzie quick.”


  “If he does, you’ll let me go? Just like that?” This time, she turned, her wide blue eyes doubtful.

  God, she was beautiful. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Everything about her was perfect. Her figure. Her breasts. Not big. Just a handful. He wanted to lean forward and lick her nipples. Instead, he washed over her shoulders, his big hands hovering just above her breasts. “Sure. No reason to keep you here.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth was round and pink. It would look like that just before she took his cock in.

  “Disappointed?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  With a chuckle, he moved the faucet head down to her breasts.

  She skittered backward, though her nipples were tight. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”

  Raw lust zinged through him like a bolt of lightning. “There’s one bed, and you’ll be in it.” He’d be getting no rest, anyway, on account of the painful hard-on no amount of beating off could ease. He moved his hand down her flat tummy, washing off the muddy streaks, and her eyes drifted closed.

  “You scare me…but you confuse me, too,” she said in the tone of a confession.

  “How so?” he asked.

  “You were so kind to Dad. You helped Brian, and you’re so gentle when you touch me. What kind of man are you, really?”

  The kind of man who wanted to fuck her.

  “You like me touching you, princess?” He moved his hand to her mons and stroked over her downy pubes, resisting sliding his fingers between her legs.

  “I don’t like being scared.” She squeezed her legs together.

  “Would you have come with me here if I’d explained the situation about your brother?” He moved his hand to her thighs.

  She studied him. “Hell, no. You’re dead wrong about Brian. I would have called the police.”

  “That’s why I snatched you. But I’ll make it up to you for scaring you.” He itched to plunge his fingers into her.

  Her cheeks turned pink. “How?” It was almost as if she was daring him to…what? Touch her? Fuck her? Be her boyfriend?

  Christ. This was not going in a direction he cared for. He wasn’t planning to stick around after he got Lizzie back, much less spend time with Stacey. Besides, he had a job that men didn’t come back from, so he wasn’t stupid enough to get involved, even superficially. “I’ll work something out,” he muttered.

  “You’re clearly loving this,” she challenged, pushing his hovering hand away from her sex. “But you’re wasting your time.”

  “You’re like a beautiful doll, princess.” The words had left his lips before he could stop them.

  “I’m no dolly.” She flashed him a glare.

  “Yeah. I worked that out when you kicked me. Nice move. Don’t do it again.” He put the shower nozzle down and stood. He cursed himself for being caught out.

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll have to restrain you, and I don’t want to deal with another asthma attack. You’re not tough, so don’t fight me. Sit down, princess.”

  “I’m not a princess, either.” Nevertheless, she sat.

  “Sure, you’re not.”

  She gave out an exasperated breath and stared up at him. She picked up the shower head. “You want me to finish myself off?”

  Yeah. He’d like that. He’d like to see her put her hands between her legs and spray water on her clit until she was coming.

  “I meant clean the last of the mud off,” she said between gritted teeth.

  “I know what you meant. Give your hair another rinse.” He went and grabbed the shampoo and conditioner from the bathroom cupboard and pulled a chair up so he could sit, because squatting was damned uncomfortable with a hard-on.

  “I can wash my own hair.”

  “Yeah. I know. But I want to.”

  She tilted her head, assessing him. “You like me, don’t you?”

  He studied her right back. God this woman was a challenge. “I’m not going there.”

  “What’s the matter? You afraid?”

  “Why did I have to kidnap a talker? Tilt your head back.” He rinsed the rest of the muck out of her hair before squirting shampoo onto her scalp. She was fair right to her roots. Hell, every pube on her sex was blonde and soft as her head hair.

  He kneaded in the shampoo and rinsed it out, twice, following it up with conditioner. She was right about one thing, he did like touching her. Somehow, in the craziness of her kidnap, washing her relieved the tension that rode him like a monkey on his back. He knew if he fucked her, he’d sleep like the dead afterward—something he hadn’t done since he’d come home from the op two weeks ago.

  Whenever he closed his eyes after a special-forces job, he didn’t sleep well. His internal vision was too full of the destruction of his work. The last job had been fucking shit—mire that sat uncomfortably on his soul and left him wondering if he even had one.

  Stacey was clean and perfect, and he wanted to hang onto that like a lifeline, even if it was only for a few days. He hadn’t lost sight of his mission. If she knew where Animal was hiding, he had to get the information. Fast.

  She closed her hand over his. “I want to know that, whatever happens, you have the control not to harm me. Because you can’t seem to keep your hands off me.”

  “Open your legs, and you’ll find out how controlled I can be.” He picked up the soap that sat on the bottom of the bathtub and began to make small circles over the tops of her thighs

  After a moment’s hesitation, she opened her legs. “What’s your real name?”

  Fire exploded in his brain. He was too lost in looking at her pussy with its pretty pink frills to drag his gaze up to her eyes and answer.

  She reached out and tilted his chin up. “I’m talking to you.”

  “It’s Beast.”

  She snapped her legs shut. “Fine. Have it your way.” She tried to take the soap from him, but he held his hand up out of her reach.

  Having a woman as his prisoner was more fun than dealing with men…but dangerous in a way he’d never experienced. Damn, he was relishing her sassiness, and the fact she’d recovered from her terror so fast. That took real guts.

  “You want to do something as intimate as wash me,” she said, “you can tell me your real name.”

  “No. You’re not my girlfriend. You’re my prisoner, at least until I’ve exchanged you.” His gut was tight, and his balls were aching. He didn’t know why he gave a shit about his stupid name.

  “Your prisoner? I know you’re attracted to me.”

  “I’m not made of stone.” She was getting under his skin, and he wanted to bury himself in her.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Listen, tough guy. This might not be personal to you, but it is to me. You’re seeing me at my most vulnerable.”

  So, there she was, sitting in his bath, her long blonde hair a tangle over her shoulders, her pink nipples showing, giving him sass by closing her legs on the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen. What a fucking siren. Who was playing whom?

  “I could open your legs,” he said.

  “But you said you wouldn’t hurt me. I want to believe you’re a man of your word. Especially since you’re a military man.”

  “I never told you I’m military. What are you, a fucking psychic?”

  “My stepdad’s in the forces. You’ve served. I can tell.” She scooped water up and washed the mud from her feet and ankles.

  He’d like to have her writhing under him, and if that meant he had to give her a shard of information about himself, it would be worth it.

  “It’s Troy,” he muttered.

  He could give up his name, but he didn’t expect to give up anything else.

  He watched the dirty water swirl down the drain, wondering how to manage this. Okay, she was toying with him, but he was appreciating it…in a weird, blue-ball type of way. Certainly better than he would tying her up and gagging her for the next few days. Being with such a beautiful woman after coming out of Syria was lik
e taking a vacation from hell.

  She lay back in the bath and opened her knees wide, obviously taunting him. “So, Troy, do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No. No time.” Hell, he didn’t want to talk. He moved the soap down to her mons and rinsed her off with the nozzle. She gazed at him with those sweet baby blues as he stroked her pussy lips on the pretense of cleaning her. But they both knew she didn’t need it.

  He wanted to bury his face in her and smell her musk. That was what being in the forces did to a man. Made him desperate. Some guys were squeamish when it came to eating pussy, but not him.

  Her sex was soft, and so was the silky hair that covered it, just as he thought it would be. It was the type of pussy he could lap at for hours. But his brain was doing battle with his dick. Because after he’d done his job and gotten Lizzie back, he’d head to the club to hang out with the guys, and he’d never think about Stacey again.

  He grazed his thumb over her clit and watched to see if she reacted.

  She rolled her hips and moaned, her pretty mouth forming an O.

  “You’re a gorgeous guy. You must have a girlfriend,” she said with a breathiness he appreciated immensely. He went to insert his index finger into her, but she snapped her legs shut on his hand.

  He grunted his disappointment.

  “Talk to me, Troy. I want to get to know you. “

  He tried to focus on the thought that Animal had Lizzie. This situation was not supposed to be about pleasure, but Stacey had managed to get herself filthy, and now he was full of thoughts as dirty as the mud.

  He didn’t like losing his focus.

  “Why would you want to get to know your kidnapper?” he asked.

  “Because he’s touching my pussy, and I don’t let just any man do that. My stepdad was ridiculously strict. But I have to say, he was right about my last boyfriend being a jerk. Broke my heart.”

  “Huh?” Troy tried not to care. Why should he? Still, he didn’t like the idea of some asshole hurting her. “How?”

  When she talked, her thighs relaxed. He didn’t move his hand away. In fact, he managed to slide his thumb up to press on her clit.