The Lionman Kidnapping

by Eve Langlais

  She panted into his mouth and made a sound as he rolled to his side, keeping them latched together. He did it to give himself room. His hand thrust past the waistband of her pants and dug through the hair on her mound, before seeking the heated moistness between her thighs.

  He stroked her. His finger rubbing back and forth across a clit already swollen and ready.

  She thrust against his hand, aching for it. He thrust a finger into her and worked her with his thumb. Then two fingers. It was the third that stretched her just right. She came. Rippling with pleasure.

  Crying into his mouth. Then calming.

  Clutching at him. At a loss for words. She’d never been masturbated to orgasm before by a man.

  Never lost so much control.

  “That was amazing,” she finally managed to say against his lips.

  “I know.” He pulled away from her and casually sauntered to the sink to wash his hand. “Now about that walk?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Playing it cool was all Marcus had. The hardest thing he’d ever done. Harder even than his cock a few minutes ago.

  He still couldn’t believe what had just happened. He’d pounced on Jayda and then not just kissed her but made her come on his fingers.

  That had never happened before. Ever. He wasn’t a suave Casanova with women. But somehow with Jayda he knew all the right moves. It shocked that she responded so passionately to him. She’d seen the monster. Seen what he was.

  Yet, she kept flirting. Teased.

  Asked him to act. Then orgasmed all over his hand.

  Was it any wonder he came in his pants? Problem was he had no way to hide it, hence his race to the sink, rinsing the scent of her from his fingers—which almost made him sob—then pretending to splash himself. The water dripping down his chest and soaking into his thin scrubs. Hiding the evidence of his less-than-manly action.

  When he turned around, it was to almost let out a yell because she stood right there. Close enough to touch.

  “Jesus, baby, are you always this clingy after?” He purposely used the nickname she hated to give himself distance.

  “You’re wet.” She ran a finger down his chest to the waistband of his pants.

  “I’ll change.” He whirled from her and stripped. Hoping she’d leave. As if. She watched him pull on fresh track pants and a shirt. Then laughed as his stomach grumbled.

  “Better eat, kitty. You’ll need that energy for later.”

  Meaning what? She never did explain, just sashayed to the door, leaving him to follow.

  But he paused at the threshold. Last time they’d left, she tried to prove a point. Why did it feel like she did it again?

  She paused and peeked at him. “Coming?”

  Already have. He almost burst out laughing. How surreal his existence seemed. He’d gone from hating himself and hating life to…enjoying it. He’d just pleasured the most beautiful woman.

  Nothing in his past could compare to that.

  He joined her, conscious of the fact he wore no chains. Not a single guard followed them. He still didn’t dare believe when they entered the elevator, which stopped to let on people who gazed at him curiously but didn’t say a word.

  They exited on a floor he’d never seen before. A section of it set up with gaming chairs and consoles that surprisingly didn’t appeal. Couches in front of a big movie-type screen. Then trestle tables and benches, partially occupied with people eating off trays.

  Walking by, Jayda snared a few things: an apple, a bottle of vitamin water, a chicken leg. That almost got a protest until the guy saw who stole it.

  The filched goods were given to Marcus. Except for the apple. She ate it, her lips parting to bite that smooth, red flesh.

  He hurried to chew on his chicken leg, the flavors bursting on his tongue. The flavored water proved a nice chaser and precluded conversation as they took the elevator up. Next thing he knew, they were outside.

  And he wasn’t running for his life or being shot at. Didn’t wear any kind of restraint. Felt kind of weird, truth be told.

  The late afternoon sun kissed his skin, and he raised his face into its rays. Breathed deep.

  “Nothing beats the real thing, eh, kitty.”

  “You don’t realize how much you miss simple things like fresh air and daylight until it’s taken away.” When he was a gamer, he didn’t care if he played all night and slept all day. That his one-bedroom apartment needed a deep clean.

  “Now what?” he asked. “You took me outside and I didn’t kill anyone. What’s next? Back to the cell where I agree to be a good boy and let the doctors do a bunch more tests?” He’d agree to anything if it meant getting his hand down her pants again.

  “How about a walk by the lake?”

  The suggestion sounded so very odd. Yet she strode off, not once looking back at him. He could have taken off running. He was fast enough to outpace just about anyone. Except a bullet.

  But according to her, this was a test. If he passed, would he really get a chance at freedom? It seemed impossible. She played him. This was a trick. Run. Get away.

  Why the fuck was he following her, taking long strides to catch up?

  “What’s really going on? Why are we really outside?” he asked, because nothing made sense anymore.

  “Because it’s a nice day.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Fine. You caught me. I have nefarious plans for you.” She cast him a side-glance. “But first we need to find a big bush or rock to hide behind so we can indulge in round two.”

  He might have stumbled. “Excuse me?”

  “Such manners. Good thing I remember the wild man.” She cast him a sly glance. “I like him.”

  Like. As in liked Marcus. The beast.

  “What happened in my room was dangerous,” he said, woodenly. Hating that he felt a need to warn her.

  “I’m sure it was. For both of us.” She changed topic suddenly. “There’s Jett.”

  “Who’s Jett?” He looked ahead and saw a man dressed in black kneeling by the shore of the lake.

  “Jett is Adrian’s right-hand man.”

  “What’s he doing?” Marcus asked, noticing the guy held a towel.

  “Waiting for Becky, his girlfriend, to finish her swim.”

  Casting a glance out over the still waters, he frowned. “I don’t see anyone.” Had this Becky drowned?

  “Of course, you don’t. She’s underwater.”

  And apparently didn’t need to breathe because a head never broke the surface.

  “Is she—” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

  “She’s a mermaid. More or less. Her legs don’t fuse together into a tail, but she does get scales on her skin, and she can swim with the fishies. Talk to them, too, although Dad says she claims they have nothing really interesting to say.”

  A mermaid. “Another monster.” Said with a weary sigh.

  “Not according to Jett. The man thinks the world of her. Which, if you know Jett, is like a huge compliment. He doesn’t like anyone.”

  Well, he certainly liked his mermaid. His face broke into a grin when a body suddenly vaulted from the water, right into the waiting towel.

  The guy strode off with his wet prize, and that was when it hit Marcus. “She’s not locked up?”

  “Nope.”

  The very concept blew his mind. Because this was proof that it might be possible. “How many people like me, people who were changed, don’t have to live as prisoners?”

  “More than you’d think.”

  Mind blown again. “How?” How could he, too, become one of those lucky people?

  “I told you, kitty. It’s all about control, which you’re showing a lot of. You haven’t even looked cross-eyed at anyone since we left your room.”

  As if he would pay any mind to anyone else. Jayda’s presence consumed him.

  “How long before I can come and go as I please?”

  She shrugged as they continued to stroll. �
��Depends.”

  “On?”

  “How well you make me come again.” Grabbing him by the hand, she dragged him past a boulder on the edge of the lake. Just past it a lush patch of grass awaited. She dropped to her knees and tugged him down to join her.

  “I don’t understand,” he breathed against her mouth. Women didn’t just come on to him. Not Marcus Bouvier. They were more likely to wrinkle their noses or claim there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world. Was it any wonder he’d only ever been with two women in his life?

  “I.” Kiss. “Want.” Smooch. “You.” She laced her arms around his neck, the statement making him feel bigger and stronger than any rage could.

  There was something ego stroking about being desired. Chased even.

  She thrust him down onto the ground and pounced atop him, lips mashed and moving.

  But he still had questions. “Why me?” Was it because she had a fetish for fucking a monster?

  “Because I just can’t seem to resist you.” She tugged off her shirt, leaving her clad only in a bra. Her semi-nudity erased all other questions in his mind.

  “What are you doing?” A husky demand.

  “Seducing you. You going to cooperate or force me to get rough?” She arched a brow.

  Resistance was futile. He dragged her into his arms, giving her lips a taste. The remnants of her apple sweet. But the musk of her, the very scent, sweeter still.

  His lips slanted over hers, nibbling and sucking, and she replied in kind, just as passionately. The scent of her desire coiling around him. Marcus groaned, and she chuckled softly on his lips.

  “Oh, kitty.” A soft murmur before her tongue came out to play. Slipping into the warm recess of his mouth, marking him with the taste of her. The essence.

  But only when he rolled her so she lay on the ground could he touch her like he craved.

  And almost feared.

  It seemed impossible that his hands could skim the curves he’d fantasized about. He wasn’t alone in touching. Her hands roved him, learning the nuances of his shape, sliding under his shirt to brand his bare skin.

  When she shoved him to the ground, he didn’t protest, rather welcomed her body atop his, her thighs straddling him. She took control. A good thing since he was consumed by her.

  The kiss turned ferocious, with her sharp teeth nipping. He cupped her ass, the thin fabric of her athletic pants meaning he felt the heat radiating from her.

  She ground against him in a tease that brought him to a hard erection. He wanted nothing more than to strip her and fuck her.

  But he held back, also finding enjoyment in simply breathing her in. Stroking the bare skin of her back.

  Choking as she shoved a bra-clad breast against his mouth. “Suck me,” she demanded.

  And he couldn’t say no.

  He suckled at the fabric cup, teasing her nipple until it protruded. Tempted.

  He wanted to feel that dark berry in his mouth. Without impediment. For all his agility in the woods, his hands shook as he tried to unclasp her bra, the seamless fabric frustrating him.

  “It’s a sports bra, kitty. You have to pull it up.” Said with a husky chuckle.

  With clear instructions, it proved simple to roll the fabric away from her breasts, setting her free.

  This time when he fell on her, her body trembled. She gasped at his callused touch, especially the thumb that brushed over an erect tip.

  He sucked the berry and bit down, growing in pleasure when she cried out.

  He cupped her breasts, enjoying their soft roundness, nuzzling the nipples, sucking at them, passing back and forth.

  She grabbed at him, tugged at his shirt, and he obliged, tearing it off his back, pulling her close enough the tips of her breasts rubbed against him.

  It took him a second—his mind distracted because of what her tongue currently did in his mouth—to realize her hands tugged at his pants. Shoved them down over his hips, freeing him. For a second. Then she grabbed hold of him. Fisted him. Stroked him back and forth.

  He couldn’t help but thrust his hips into her grip, gasping into her mouth.

  “You going to take my pants off?” she asked. A whisper of promise brushed his lips.

  Hell yeah. He quickly stripped her, sliding her free of those stretchy pants. The panties did little to cover her and proved fragile. Grabbing hold of them resulted in them tearing free.

  The scrap in his hand proved sobering. He was strong. Perhaps too strong to truly go through with this and not hurt her.

  The beast couldn’t have his beauty.

  He went to rise, only she grabbed hold of him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I shouldn’t.” He shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “What if I hurt you?”

  She uttered a chuckle. “Kitty, I’m more worried about hurting you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold back when you touch me?”

  The words surprised him. “You want to touch me?” He sank back to his knees in front of her.

  “More than you can imagine. I want you inside of me.” She turned around in front of him, still on her knees, making it easy for her to bend forward. Presenting herself to him.

  The core of her.

  Nirvana.

  He swallowed hard. “Fuck me.” Spoken almost like a prayer.

  She peered over her shoulder in a come-hither glance. “Don’t you mean fuck me? I’m waiting.”

  Sassy invitation, and yet he wasn’t about to say no. His cock led the way, jutting proudly from his loins. Aching to feel her.

  Positioning himself behind her, he was aware of how much larger than her he was. He needed to be careful.

  So very, very careful.

  He placed a hand on her hip, palming the skin. She shivered. He could smell her desire. See it in the wet glisten of her cleft.

  He leaned in for a lick.

  She gasped.

  She’d do more than that before he was done. He kept licking, flicking his tongue over her swollen button, tonguing between her nether lips.

  She gasped and wiggled. Writhed with real arousal. He pleased her. Pleased her so well, she went rigid and came, exhaling a series of “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmyfuckinggod.”

  Oh, hell yeah. Rising, he couldn’t help but tease his head against her, wanting to chant himself at the feel of her. The sight even was too much. His cock touching her so intimately. But did he dare go any further?

  He’d held himself in check so far, but the strain was palpable. He practically shook with need. If he let go even a little bit, he might explode.

  Jayda didn’t care. “Your turn.” She rammed herself back onto him, sheathing him in one fell swoop. Almost jolted the orgasm right out of him

  As it was, he arched, which thrust him deeper. He threw his head back and let out a sound that might have been a partial roar.

  He wanted to take it easy, to let her adjust to his size. She would have none of it. She rocked. Forwards, backwards, driving herself onto him, squeezing him so tight in ecstasy.

  She kept slamming, and he matched her pace, making each stroke a little harder when he thrust. And she keened. Each time he went deep, she cried out.

  So he hit that spot, again and again. She lost it, crying out and panting, not even trying to hide her pleasure. When she came, it was a wet tsunami. It coated his cock in lava honey, drawing his own cry of release. He thrust deep one last time. Came.

  Shuddered with the pleasure of it.

  Could barely breathe. All his senses reeled, which was why it took a second to realize the explosions he was hearing wasn’t from the sex.

  “Someone’s attacking the clinic.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jayda no sooner announced it than she’d righted her clothes and was walking toward the clinic.

  “Um, baby, I think you’re headed the wrong way.”

  She cast him a glare. “Don’t call me baby, kitty.” A warning spoken with a smirk. “Let’s go see w
ho’s visiting.”

  “I say we don’t. Safety is this way.” He pointed deeper into the forest.

  “Safety?” She snorted. “Hello, not all of us are pussies.” She insulted his manhood, the quickest way to get anyone to move. They’d wandered a fair distance from the clinic, and during their tryst, twilight had fallen, the best time for taking a place by surprise.

  Without looking back, and standing tall, she strode in the direction of the gunfire. Toward the screams. Someone was shot and wouldn’t shut up about it.

  “It’s not cowardly to avoid bullets. They hurt, and in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a gun.” Despite his argument, Marcus kept pace with her.

  “Don’t need a gun. Just gotta be wily, kitty.” She winked over her shoulder.

  “Wily can’t outrun a speeding bullet, baby.” Emphasized with a growl.

  “Better hope you’re fast, because you call me baby again and I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to the crows.”

  “That’s aggressive.”

  “So’s my foreplay, and I didn’t hear you complaining.”

  “Only an idiot would have any complaint. I like it when you let go. Would like to do it again,” he added. “But that seems more likely if we don’t try and stop the men shooting up the clinic.”

  “Who says they’re all men? Woman can be killers, too.” Her last words before she broke into a run.

  She weaved along the open field, the grass a little longer, given fall had arrived. She ran as if the wind were at her back. Her steps light and her pace rapid. Marcus had a hard time keeping up, because, yes, he damned well followed.

  She knew him well enough to predict he wouldn’t let her go into danger on her own.

  Emerging from the tree line, she stumbled upon a shooter dressed in camouflage. Focused on the clinic, he never saw her coming.

  Jayda pounced on him, literally. Grabbed hold of his head and twisted. No second chances, no hesitation. One down. A whole bunch more to go.