He mulled over my question as he unlocked the metal surrounding my ankle, allowing me to pull on my new bikini cut panties. His eyes never left my thighs or what was between them. “A killer.”
“I know that.” The new T-shirts only went to my waist, leaving me less dressed than I was before. Oh, well. I’d already lost a lot of modesty. What did it matter anyway?
He licked his lips and adjusted his hardening cock. Killers also seemed to be horny motherfuckers. Then again, I had just shown him all my goods and done a little striptease of sorts.
“You asked me what I was.”
“You’re not one to give up information, are you?” I asked as I stretched my momentarily free leg.
“No. Information is power. Therefore, I don’t talk about myself to a stranger at a bar.”
My mouth popped open. “A jab? Wow. You know that’s what normal people do? Part of that whole getting-to-know-you thing.”
“I don’t want to get to know you, and I sure as hell don’t want you to know me.” He opened the cuff and snapped it back on, clicking the lock in place. All movement stopped, his gaze focused on the cuff.
I froze and looked down, taking in all the little lines the nail had dug into the metal.
Shit.
He reached forward, grabbed on to my neck, and slammed me face down on the bed. He pushed my head against the mattress, his body climbing over mine, caging me in place.
“Maybe I should have used all of the restraints and tied them to the bed in one continuous chain. That way you couldn’t move at all,” he growled into my ear. I whimpered and sniffed from pain. “I gave you room to move. I thought we had an agreement.”
“You really expect me or any other sane human being to just stay here? I want to go home, you asshole!”
“You can’t. You’re just another dead girl.”
He was straddling my hips, the bulge of his cock pressing against my butt cheeks.
“I was fucking nice to you again, giving you room to move. Guess it’s back to being mean.”
With one hand he yanked on the brand new panties I’d just put on. The other hand was still pushing against my neck, but that didn’t slow down the popping of his button or the sound of his zipper sliding down.
How was that damn zipper one of the most erotic sounds I’d ever heard? The amp up of anticipation. The knowledge of my ability to move seemed to have left me along with my brain.
I should have been struggling against him. Instead I was pliant to his will, held by only one hand on my neck.
“Fucknugget.” The one word I could come up with as his cock found the opening to my pussy and he forced it in with a thrust of his hips.
“I never knew a hostage could have such advantages.” He let go of me, instead grabbing on to my wrists as he rotated his hips, pushing and pulling, rubbing against my sensitive walls. His teeth nipped against my neck.
Once again, the sane response was missing. Repulsion was replaced with what felt like jolts of electricity through my veins and the need for more.
“Rape is an advantage?” I asked, trying to sound offended by what he was doing.
But my body betrayed me, and I couldn’t stop the moan that left me. The fucker snickered as he pulled out and pushed back in.
“You haven’t told me to stop.”
My eyes fluttered as he continued to hit a spot that spurred on the same jolts of electricity with each pass. “Doesn’t mean I want it.”
He sped up his pace, slamming against my ass. “Are you sure about that? Your pussy is awfully wet.”
Fuck. He was right. I was still turned on from the day before. Being used as a fuck hole to a killer I couldn’t get away from wasn’t as appalling as it should have been.
Maybe because we’d already had sex. A lot of very good sex, for hours. Maybe I was developing Stockholm Syndrome.
The latter I doubted, simply because I continued to be scared of and hate the man. Was some good, rough sex before I died such a bad thing to enjoy? There was a lot of certainty that he was going to kill me if I couldn’t escape—was it really so bad to not be absolutely miserable before I died?
Was I supposed to be nothing but a helpless pool of woman, cowering from him, giving him every bit of power out of fear for what I already knew he was going to do?
No. That was the one thing I had control of in a situation out of my control. It was my choice to give up, and I wasn’t going to do it.
But I was going to give in to the way his body felt against mine. To the pleasure of a man.
Harsh breath against my neck in time with his thrusts. A lot of his weight was balanced on the hand on my neck, and it pushed me further into the bed.
Even his angry fuck had my pussy clenching around him. Trying to assert himself over me with his strength only made my eyes fluttered every time he bottomed out.
There was no sound, no warning as he slammed against me, jerking as his balls emptied his come deep inside me.
Denied an orgasm again.
“Your life is mine,” he hissed into my ear. “There are consequences for disobedience. Remember that, because the next time, I won’t be half as nice.”
I hummed a tune. An annoying one.