The sensation of being taken, the suddenness of the thrust, the force of it pushed a muted scream from her throat. He buried himself in her, his hand reaching for her throat. She grabbed his hair hard and pulled, the other hand grabbing his skin, somewhere, anywhere, holding on as he pressed into her again and again.
He leaned over, the motion and the power betraying his passion. He could keep cool around her in public, but not here, not now. In bed his passion showed through the fa?ade, each thrust and groan, the stolen kisses between his assault on her sex betrayed his feelings: deep and passionate feelings—for her.
Her body read the signs, her heart raced with his, but her mind shut down. She was there to talk to him, yes, but it didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. All that mattered was his length, warm and firm inside of her, stretching her, filling her.
She wrapped her legs around him and began to lift herself against him. He was taking her, she was taking him. She rose, arched and grabbed the blanket, tearing it off the bed and putting it around her until she was cocooned in the softness, his hard body on hers, in hers, the comforter surrounding them both.
He pulled out and spun her around. She lay half on the bed, half off, and his hand came down on her butt cheek with a sharp sting. She felt outrage and a little shock that he’d spanked her, but the warmth of it quickly flooded her senses, and when he entered her again it was fuller, more enticing.
He took her from behind; she writhed on the mattress, pinned by his hands on her hips, skewered by his manhood. He thrust again and again, her climax slowly building; she could feel his sudden throb, the pulse of his building right alongside hers.
She stood, breaking it off, and spun. He looked at her in shock, his penis glistening wet and hard in front of her, and she wrapped a leg around him and pushed. He fell onto the floor and she was on him in a moment, before he could recover.
She straddled him, riding him like a cowgirl. Her breasts bounced as she moved over him, hips rising and falling in an urgent rhythm. He lay beneath her, not passive, rising with her movements. She heard their flesh slap, the soft squelch of liquid arousal that left a pungent odor hanging over the room, intermingling with the smell of sweat, of passion. He groped for her breasts and she grabbed his hands, holding them in hers, and used that leverage to move up and down.
It was bliss, riding him, feeling him fill her as she let her body fall, moaning at the absolute ecstasy of it. All too soon he sat up, still in her, and rolled them both over till they lay facing each other, her leg over his. He moved into her again and they thrust together, against each other, toward each other. He sought her warmth, she rode his hardness.
He drove into her deep and cried out as he came. Her orgasm replied with a shrill shudder that left her shaking, echoing his. She wrapped herself around him and trembled and spasmed, and when she came the guard and the gardener outside, and the neighbors all applauded.
She fell beside him, spent and sated. The blanket slid down, a soft avalanche of down that felt suddenly too cloying, too hot.
Her head fell against his, sweaty forehead to sweaty forehead. Breathing hard, she whispered, “I have a plan.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dani slipped into her customary place at the table for breakfast. Every morning of her captivity had started with breakfast with David, and then with Benny. Her guard from last night had changed shifts, and an older, more distant guy now escorted her from her room to the dining room. She eyed the grey-haired gentleman as they went down the stairs; he’d been in Benny’s employ for as long as she could remember. There would be no getting past this one. She sighed, trailing her hand down the banister, in no hurry to join the mobster for breakfast.
Getting back to her own room last night had been tricky. They’d had to wait until the shift change, as one of guards had refused to let the young, dumb one come back through the hall. Knowing this had left her some time in Luke’s arms, which she wished now she hadn’t wasted dozing off. She been honestly exhausted by their efforts, and even now was pleasantly sore between the legs.
He’d awoken her near dawn, and she’d stared at him for a moment, confused. His body, so solid, so warm had been near impossible to leave. In the semi-darkness of the room, she could almost convince herself that he loved her. Or at least that he liked her. But he’d turned his face away from her as she’d dressed, and though he’d accompanied her to the door, to hand her off to the trembling guard, he’d said nothing, had left no endearment for her to take back to her cold, empty room.
The guard had eyed her mussed hair and the way her dress hung on her, crumpled and limp from poor treatment, and snorted in contempt. Okay, so he knew the morning-after look well enough.
It was an unpleasant feeling, to have some idiot guard know she’d been rolling around with Luke. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Pissed off, with cheeks flaming from embarrassment, she’d stormed into her room, flinging off the hated dress and leaving it in the hamper for the staff to have dry-cleaned. It had fulfilled its mission. She never wanted to see it again.
She’d showered and dressed, though she hesitated before stepping under the warm spray of water. When she lifted her arm she could smell him there, still on her skin. She raised her hand, fingertips touching her swollen lips, imagining she could still taste him there. Hazily she stepped into the shower, wanting to hold the feeling of his flesh pressed to hers, not ready to wash it away just yet. But breakfast would be served soon and, tired as she was, she needed to dress. At the closet she stared at the red dress lying on top of other rumpled items in the hamper. With a shake of her head she found a t-shirt and shorts, feeling more herself as she laced up her boots.
Being escorted to the dining room chafed. Dani paused at the bottom of the stairs, wondering what would happen if she did something totally wild. Took out her own guard for example. Her training had served her well, and in this entryway alone there were at least three solid ways to do it, a couple more questionable as to how successful she would be. She glanced back at the impassible face and sighed again a little. No. It would serve no purpose at all. Not when there were easily a half dozen guards still in the house.
At least we have a plan.
Even that, she wasn’t so confident of now in the light of day. She dropped into her chair at the dining room table, paying no attention to David. The rat. No one escorted him back and forth all the livelong day. She eyed him as he drank his juice, wondering if there was some way to turn that to her advantage. Probably not. He was hardly the cooperative type to begin with, and even with this whole mess technically his fault he certainly wasn’t going to make any kind of amends until that stick turned up.
What the hell was on that thing anyway?
She played with her fork, waiting for the food to arrive. It flipped out of her hand to the next place and, blushing, she grabbed at it, thankful there was only David to see. Who, of course, snorted with derision as she snagged it out of the butter dish.