Chapter Twenty
Conscious of her life spiraling out of control around her, Grace looked away from Keenan's mouth and found him watching her intently. Nothing was relaxing about his eyes. They were thunder and lightning. Sparks and fire. Raging waves crashing down on her.
A whimper escaped her. She had no idea what she needed. Freedom or Keenan.
He rose from the toilet, picking her up. She sagged against him, powerless to stop her body calling to his—knowing she wouldn't stop him.
She wanted him.
Her soul was going to burn in hell for wanting him, but first, they'd both go up in flames. There was no denying the electricity between them. The sparks. The sizzle.
The connection they fought to ignore. The constant buzzing when they were close enough to touch.
He took her to the bedroom and set her on her feet. She swayed, falling back and softly landing on the edge of the mattress.
Keenan stripped off his clothes, brushing his hands through his hair, his beard, knocking off the discarded clippings from his body. His chest expanded. His arms bulged. She salivated. Content to watch him but desperate for his touch.
He opened the dresser and removed a condom. She knew the box was in there because she'd snooped throughout his whole house looking for something to help her escape. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined she'd need protection of that sort.
But to her surprise, she found Keenan gave her things she had no idea she needed. It wasn't the first time he'd stepped up to protect her.
He'd killed a man to save her. He cared for her injuries. Soothed her bruises. Fed her when all she wanted to do was curl in a ball and wither away. He wouldn't let her suffer. He fought to get her angry. He antagonized her until she got off her butt and had dinner. He ignored her when she lost her temper. He gave her silence when she talked too much.
And each reaction was exactly what she needed to survive. She wasn't giving up. She would get away. She would go home.
He rolled the condom on his cock. She gulped at the sheer size of him. Truly alone, away from home, she had to rely on herself.
And she doubted the way she was feeling about Keenan.
Her attraction to him verged on madness. She wanted to run. She wanted to stay. She wanted the ache inside of her to flip to the passion slowly boiling inside of her.
He kneed the bed beside her hip and took her down on the bed, hovering over her. Caught between panic at his heavy weight on her and not being able to move, she planted her hands on his broad chest.
She opened her mouth to tell him she was scared, and he rolled, taking her with him until she laid on top of him.
"I'm a lot of things." He hooked her hair behind her ear. "But, I'm not a rapist."
His clear gaze let her look for herself as if she could see inside his soul. She believed him.
The hardness of his body down the length of her created a pulsing at the base of her stomach. She pushed off him and stood.
He made no move to bring her back. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his head and watched her.
Her pussy spasmed in awareness. She hooked her thumbs inside her shorts at her hips and pushed the material down, taking her panties with her. Leaving her shirt and bra on, she climbed on top of him and sat on his thick thighs.
She wasn't ready to bare all of herself to him. Wasn't sure if what she was doing was right or wrong. She wasn't prepared for what would come afterward when they both realized sex had complicated the whole kidnapper/kidnapped thing they were so good at doing.
"Don't hurt me," she whispered, not sure if she was worried about emotionally being traumatized or physically injured. He was a big man. He also held power over her.
He fisted his cock and rubbed the head against her inner thigh. She dipped her chin, gazing between her legs. Once again, he proved that such a hardened man could be tender.
Her insides fluttered, and she rocked up on her knees.
He directed his cock between her legs, slowly coating the condom with her juices. Juices that proved how turned on she was by what they were doing.
She couldn't hide or lie from the feelings he evoked in her. The evidence was right there for him. Her body was ready and needy.
He stilled. She raised her gaze. A tremble rocked her at the intensity coming from him. She wasn't the only one having a hard time holding back.
Keenan let go of himself and grasped her hips, lifting her. Coming up on her knees, she wrapped her fingers around his cock, aligning him. Nothing stopped her. She slid down.
Pressure came with his size. She held her breath, unsure how having sex with him would work with her on top.
Would her body accept him?
Logistically, she understood the dynamics of having sex. In a normal situation, she would be all in for the pleasure that would come from a man his size.
But they weren't in a normal situation.
Keenan's hands came off her, and he hooked her neck, pulling her down. The awkward position, before he could fully penetrate her, almost left her crying in need.
Then, he soothed her with his lips, his tongue, his mouth. Distracted from trying to seat herself on his cock, she kissed him back and enjoyed the closeness, the attention, the man. Sweet Jesus, the man equally fascinated and scared her.
Her body relaxed, and gravity took hold.
She slid.
Slowly.
Pleasurably.
She never wanted to come to a stop. The full caress of his cock going deep inside of her was like nothing she had ever experienced.
Moaning, she gave him her tongue as her eyes closed. Fully seated on him, she floated, all her senses occupied by him.
His rough hands caressed her sides, the slopes of her hips, her ass. Her pussy spasmed, holding on to him tightly.
She regretted keeping her shirt on. There were too many clothes between them. She wanted to feel his chest against hers.
The way he exhaled when she inhaled. The way his chest hair felt against her breasts. She wanted the musky scent of him without the influence of leather.
Keenan lifted his hips, pushing the limits. The bump against her cervix left her gasping while her pelvis thrust forward, taking him harder.
He pulled her off his mouth and pushed her up into a sitting position. The added length inside of her brought out a groan that sounded so unlike her.
"Ride me." He grasped her hips.
She rocked back and forth. The slightest movement rubbed just right. She planted her hands on his chest and fisted the front of his vest. Thankful for the leather, she had something to grip to help her move.
Coming up on her knees, he stayed solidly planted inside of her. Sinking down, he filled her completely.
She gyrated atop him. The whole time, he laid back, content to watch her, giving her permission to use him.
But it wasn't all selfish pleasure. Somehow, she understood what he needed. He needed to see her come. He needed to see her lose control. He needed to see her accept him. To see him, not as a kidnapper, but a man.
And that's what she gave him. She moved back and forth, grinding on him until her clit swelled and her pussy engorged with pleasure. Every sensitive nerve pulled her. Pushed her. Swung her. Soon, she chased her orgasm.
Keenan tightened his stomach muscles and rolled to a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her. The change of position left her tottering.
He captured her mouth, stroking her with his tongue. The added stimulation left her spinning. His hand lowered to her ass, and his fingers slipped underneath, over her anus, rubbing her wetness in a circle.