Page 22

Author: Kylie Scott


She stepped into him and he took her hands, wound them back around his neck before she could go for his dick. Later she could play to her heart’s content, but right now he had plans.


Actually, just the one.


He slipped his hand between her legs while kissing her once more, because the thought of not having her mouth on him was out of the question. She widened her stance and let him feel her. Soft, wet and fantastically hot flesh met his fingers. Bloody hell. He cupped her pussy with his hand and she writhed against his fingers. Sexiest fucking thing ever.


Without a doubt she was ready for him. Her hot, wet cunt and the way she tugged on his neck like she wanted him to pick her up. And she could have anything she wanted. He would live and die to make her happy. Do absolutely anything.


“Now,” she groaned.


Nick put his hands beneath the curve of her ass and lifted. Roslyn’s legs went around his waist. He turned so he could set her back against the smooth wooden pantry door. The feel of his hard cock sliding against her pussy had him seeing stars and discovering God or something. She felt divine.


Her breath hit his ear in warm little puffs and her arms wrapped tighter around him. Cut off his airflow a little, but who cared. He lifted her high enough to guide the head of his cock to her and she took him. Sank down on him slowly, engulfing him in the tight clasp of her body.


A long, breathy moan left her and his legs shook.


Yes. Fuck yes.


He withdrew and thrust back into her. And again. And then they were off, with the hard and fast drive of his body into hers and the sound of flesh slapping. He couldn’t seem to slow, to go easy, when he knew he should. Knew without a doubt he should, but his hands were filled with her gorgeous rear and her body trembled against him. He fucked her like a man possessed and she took it. Spurred him on by panting and moaning in his ear. Sweat slicked their skin and the scent of sex hung heavy in the air.


Nothing had ever felt this right. This necessary.


Fast, hard and perfect, with the cupboard door knocking out a protest every time he thrust into her and the chain jangling.


Her heels dug into his ass and her fingernails sunk into his skin. She said his name like it was a curse. He loved it. Her head lolled back against the cupboard door. She was close. She was whimpering and he couldn’t hold out much longer the way his balls were climbing up into his body. He shifted the angle slightly. Enough to ensure he was raking over her clit on each withdrawal. A strangled noise filled his ear and her pussy clamped down on him. There we go. No chance of holding out. No control, but then there never had been.


Not with her. Not possible.


He came and came. Fingers clutching at her, half scared he’d drop her or something. He growled through gritted teeth and clung onto her like she was the only thing left.


Like she was everything.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Roslyn lay wide awake, staring into space and watching the flickering light of the candles on the wall.


She’d had sex with Nick.


Rough, raw, animal sex.


It had shaken her tiny world apart, blown it to smithereens.


Thank God she was still on birth control. Neither of them had stopped to think of donning a condom. She was never so careless. Never. But then, she’d never had sex like that. Mind-blowing sex. Fucking.


No excuse.


She’d come so hard. Her body still hummed, satiated and pumped full of happy hormones. They weren’t doing their job, though, not even a little. She was miserable. Her chest felt hot and hard, her eyes itchy, ready to explode into tears at a moment’s notice.


How could she?


She’d had sex with Nick and there was no excuse. There were no gray areas. You didn’t fuck the man who kept you captive. What kind of woman did that? Fell for her abductor. No, damn it, it was so wrong she couldn’t comprehend it. It filled her with disgust and covered her in self-loathing.


Sure as hell, it couldn’t happen again.


He was asleep against her back with an arm thrown over her waist. For a long time he’d toyed with her fingers, stroked her arm. Neither of them had said a word. Complete silence, apart from the occasional pop and sizzle of the wood in the pot-belly stove. Even the rain had stopped a while back.


It was mid-afternoon. Hard to tell exactly with the cabin all closed up. The scent of him seemed to be reaching out to her, trying to tantalize or comfort or something. The want to close her eyes and breathe him in deep horrified her. She hated herself for how she wanted him. For giving in to him. He’d never let her go now. She’d never be free to make her own choices ever again and it was all her own weak-willed fault. Somehow, he’d disarmed her, which meant her armor was made of flimsy stuff indeed.


She shifted and the chain clinked, reminding her of its presence. He’d said the key was in his back pocket. His jeans were on the kitchen floor. He’d stripped off fully after sex and undressed her as much as possible without taking off the chain. If only he’d taken it off her. Maybe then she’d have felt differently.


She sucked in a deep breath and held it as her mind reeled. The key. She could escape. She had to. To stay locked up like this was out of the question. She had to get out.


And if he woke she’d say she was going to the toilet or something.


Yeah. Great. All set. Bloody hell.


She could do this. First she eased a little way across the mattress and rolled gradually onto her back. No rush. Nice and easy. Now she could see him. Eyes closed, and his breathing deep and even. Some strange frisson went through her at the sight of him: fine, firm lips and straight nose, the hollows in his cheeks. It hurt to look at him. This situation wasn’t tenable. Nobody could live like this.


He looked different fast asleep. Unguarded. She’d never seen him like this before. Her anger evaporated. It had fortified her for so long that its absence left a gaping hole. He looked so alone in the bed without her. The sight of him hurt her heart. People always talked about sex making them feel closer to someone. In all honesty, she’d never felt that before today. The connection had never seemed especially profound, not until Nick. How fucking unfair.


But she couldn’t stay.


Roslyn shut her eyes and gathered her reserves. Slowly she extricated herself. Every rustle of the sheets and clank of the chain seemed magnified tenfold. He didn’t stir. First one foot touched the ground, then the second. Her body slid out from beneath his hand and she sat up, then stood.


Her knickers and jeans were caught on the chain. She pulled them back over her foot and up her leg. Inserted her other leg and drew them over her hips. Between her thighs was wet and swollen. Sore from what they’d done and how hard they’d done it. It had to have been eight or nine months since anyone had touched her there, and he wasn’t small. There’d been few preliminaries—not that she’d wanted any. She’d been insane with need for him. She’d been insane, full stop.


Now wasn’t the time to think about it.


She crept toward the kitchen. If he woke she was getting a bottle of water, nothing more. The chain sounded so damn loud. Her fingers curled into fists. The metal links clattered and crashed but he slept on. It would be okay. She’d steal the Golden Goose and get gone.


His jeans lay forgotten on the floor. She slipped her hand into one of the back pockets. Nothing. Had he been lying? But the other pocket … yes, success. Cool metal met her fingers. Excitement beat through her. This was it.


Please don’t wake up.


The key slid into the lock and it snicked open. She slid the links of chain free and set them down quietly. Almost didn’t recognize her ankle without its restraint. There were a couple of red marks on her skin and a small gray bruise above her heel.


Roslyn scrambled into her T-shirt then rose slowly to her feet. Her bra was AWOL and she would have to go barefoot. She didn’t dare open the cupboard to search for shoes. But she tucked his Swiss Army Knife into her pocket, just in case.


Fast asleep, Nick looked almost sweet and innocent. Candlelight softened his features. The blankets were bunched up at his waist, leaving his top half exposed. Such a beautiful body; it was awe-inspiring. And she didn’t know if she loved him or hated him, but she knew she had to go. The ache inside her expanded and pushed at her ribs. So much pressure that she might implode. This whole situation was so wrong it warped her little mind.


Out the door she slipped. Out onto the landing and down the wooden walkway. She laid down the plank to bridge the gap and cautiously darted across. There was a noise behind her. Maybe the wind in the trees. Maybe Nick rising and looking for her.


She ran.


Gravel cut into her feet. Everything was wet from the rain, the scent of damp earth strong. She threw open the pickup’s door. No keys. Where were the fucking keys? Not above the sun visor. She climbed in and reached for the glovebox. Maps and rubbish spilled out onto the floor, but no keys.


She’d run out of time. Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, deafeningly loud.


The sun was lower than she’d anticipated. The cabin door remained closed … but for how long?


Roslyn jumped out of the pickup and headed for the highway on foot. There’d be something. A car she could start or another house she could hide in for the night. She’d return to the school tomorrow and make them see sense, work something out.


Her thin T-shirt was useless against the ice-cold wind blowing through her. She jogged past the other cabins. Stones kept cutting into her feet, but she’d manage. There’d be no stopping now. Yes, she’d head back to the school. Neil wasn’t selling her twice. She’d beat the wanker with a wine bottle if she had to. Bash some sense into him. Her days of playing victim were over.


The muscles in her legs burned. Nick would follow, but she’d deal with that later. She wasn’t going back to the chain without a fight.


It was better when she hit the highway. The asphalt was kinder to the soles of her feet. There wasn’t anything visible in either direction except trees. Lots and lots of trees with the evening’s shadows growing beneath. Town was to the left.


Back up the driveway there were no signs of life. He wasn’t coming. Probably wasn’t even awake yet, because when he woke—shit. He’d be furious.

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