Whaaat?
He wanted to fuck me?
To my horror, I realized I was most definitely hot for him even though I hated his guts. The ear he’d been whispering into was thrumming with an awareness that ran all the way down my spine to my hot, throbbing ass and my needy pussy. He bit down on my earlobe hard enough to make me squeal, then dragged my ponytail up to bite the back of my neck, too. I melted into the sand, quivering.
Rather than answer, I turned my face away from him. He growled and grabbed my superheated ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. One of his fingers dipped between my legs and rubbed over the damp spot I’d made—probably right through my leggings.
“Dirty girl. You like being a captive.”
I fought the urge to follow his hand as it withdrew. Feeling frustrated and horribly embarrassed, I sniffled, cursing myself for the sound. A small light came on, like the glow of a cell phone, and he tugged at my wrist bindings until they came loose. The light turned off again and we breathed next to each other in the otherwise silent darkness, not touching, but close enough for me to feel the ambient heat from his body.
Without another word he was up and gone, the stairs creaking as he ascended. The door shut and I heard the key turn in the lock again.
I flexed my hands, glad to finally be able to move my arms.
Fuck, I hated that man.
I also really wanted to rub one out—to get rid of this stupid lust that was almost painful. There was no way I was going to give the man that satisfaction, even if there was no way for him to find out.
Chapter 9
When I opened my eyes, the darkness was still complete. If I hadn’t been so sore from sleeping on the sand, I might have wondered if I was drifting through purgatory—cold and itchy, indeterminate time yawning ahead of me. The smell of bacon frying what felt like a lifetime later was both a comfort and a torment. I doubted the captive would be getting any of the salty goodness. My stomach growled in protest, but I was thirsty more than anything, which was probably why I wasn’t desperate for the bathroom.
People moved around above me, sounding like more than two, but it was hard to tell. Maybe they were busy in the kitchen and doing a lot of pacing between the table and the stove.
I waited long enough for them to make breakfast. Long enough for them to eat. Long enough for them to do the dishes—but still nothing. Had they forgotten about me down here?
A bit of light was streaming in from under the door now, illuminating the top few stairs, and I focused on that, my eyes as hungry for stimulation as my stomach was for food. Time meandered on.
Something creaked, and my eyes flew open. When had I fallen asleep?
A pair of bare feet appeared on the top step, but I couldn’t tell one pair from the other. Legs, a pair of shorts, a chest.
Zero. Daylight illuminated the stairs behind him
He gazed at me, his eyes hidden in shadow.
“He untied you.”
I shrugged, assuming he didn’t need an answer, since he could see my hands were unbound.
There was a plate in one of his hands, and he set it down behind him on a step. He moved closer, and I scrambled away, pressing myself against the rock I’d been using as a backrest earlier. When he was near enough for me to get around him, I dodged right, determined to reach the stairs—needing to see more of the light. He caught my wrist and jerked me back, spinning me so my chest and stomach slammed against him hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?”
Fear buzzed through me like icy static. I wriggled in his grasp, but he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. He took my mouth, kissing me hard enough to mash my lips against my teeth, and when I gasped, his tongue was in my mouth, lewd and big and overpowering. I whimpered and struggled in his arms, and when he broke the kiss, he bit my bottom lip, snarling something under his breath. His erection pressed against my stomach as I tried to push him away, determined to escape but not remembering anything about self-defense.
He smelled good, like he’d had a shower. I probably smelled like the basement, like damp and cold and definitely like fear.
“Let me go,” I begged. “I won’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be easier if you let me go now.” Was I still playing a part, or was this real? Was Zero acting, or had my game turned into something sinister?
He groaned and let me go. I staggered back a couple of steps and stopped, laughing uneasily.
“Is this funny to you?” His voice was so low I could barely hear him.
“No. Not at all.”
He grabbed the neckline of my shirt and hauled me to him again, staring me down. “How am I supposed to concentrate on work knowing you’re locked up down here, looking so pretty and afraid?” His hands gave a sharp tug in opposite directions, and my distressed-style T-shirt tore clean down the front.
I sobbed, trying to cover my naked breasts with my arm, but he caught my wrists and held them away from my body, leaving me no way to shield myself from his gaze.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”
He let me go like I’d scalded him, and then he was gone upstairs, locking the door behind him.
Crying even though I knew—at least I was pretty sure—I could stop him with my safeword, I let myself feel it all: the fear, the out-of-control swoop of my stomach when I’d thought maybe my ratty old leggings would be next. That he would throw me down and fuck me even though I’d told him it was a hard limit.
That he’d find out I was wet and ready for him.
But I didn’t want them both, did I? I knew I was submissive, and a masochist, but this was too much even for me…right?
Eventually, the smell of toast reminded me there’d been a plate. I gathered the sides of my shirt together, but there was no real way to tie the rough edges without making it look lewd. Instead, I took it off and turned it around, not sure if he’d come back at any minute and take what he wanted.
In the almost complete dark, I found the stairs, carefully feeling for the plate I didn’t want to knock over. I found it, not even sure what it held, feeling along until I found the two pieces of dry toast. As I picked up the plate, my fingers knocked against something I hadn’t noticed. A bottle of water? I twisted off the cap and sniffed it. Just water.
I took my sorry feast back to the rock backrest and sank to the sand, trying to convince my mouth that each nibble of dry bread was actually the bacon I could still smell. That each sip of water was coffee. That the light under the door was the sun rising on a carefree day.
How long did I need to stay down here and let myself be terrorized to get the right feel for this story?
How long would they be able to control themselves?
How long would I?
Chapter 10
I woke in darkness, not sure when I had fallen asleep—what day it was, what time it was. They’d brought me upstairs a few times to use the facilities, thank goodness. They’d given me water, too, but it was long gone—well before my last bathroom break.
Someone was in the room with me, breathing my air, being oh so quiet. I tensed but tried not to move, not wanting to let him know I’d heard him, waiting for a big enough space to get around him and up the stairs. Somehow I knew exactly where I was this time, even though there had been so many times before where I’d woken lost and terrified. Now I was completely oriented and terrified.