A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

I came to with a vengeance.

The asshole drugged me.

And kidnapped me. A-fucking-gain.noveldrama

I was going to murder him.

I was going to find a shovel. Find him. Hit him in the back of his head with the shovel, and when he passed out, I was going to tie the asshole up!

Let’s fucking see how he liked it.

I wasn’t tied up or blindfolded anymore so I tore off the bed, going first to the bathroom. I winced when I looked in the mirror. A mess. A total mess. My hair was in disarray. There were red marks all over my face, neck, arms, shoulders. They looked like indents, like I slept too long on them. Bags under my eyes.

I groaned, not even remembering when I last got decent sleep. It was almost sad to say, but my life in Bear Creek had been boring, but it was just that. Boring. It was stable. Steady. Yeah, maybe my relationship with Beck had been stalled for the last few years, but there was something nice in the predictability of knowing. I knew when I’d wake up. Knew what I’d eat for breakfast. Knew who would make me laugh at work, who’d make me roll my eyes, who’d annoy me. I knew the patients. I knew my colleagues.

Yes, they annoyed me. Always asking when I was going to get married.

When I was going to have kids.

Then at some point, the looks turned pitying. They started thinking it wasn’t going to happen.

They’d been correct, but I wasn’t feeling that specific heartache right now.

I was missing the familiarity of my life. I knew what to expect. It felt safe.

Wednesday night was martini night at the new bar that everyone in Bear Creek said was so hoity-toity.

I loved the hoity-toitiness of it all.

It made me feel sophisticated. Classy. Like I was going somewhere. Like my life wasn’t always going to be the same and I was the hamster never getting off the same wheel.

Beck made fun of me for going to martini night, because who was I to think I belonged in a classy bar like that, drinking martinis like I was some city-folk socialite. It burned at the time because he was right.

It burned worse now because he was wrong.

I belonged anywhere I decided that I belonged. Maybe it was all the kidnappings, or the running, or the people either shooting at me or near me, but all of the little comments Beck used to make about me didn’t matter. None of it did.

I could do what I wanted. If I survived this, I was going to do whatever I wanted.

I’d taken on the role of being a supportive and loving partner. That defined me. A job never did. I don’t know if I wanted it to define me in the future, but I knew that moving forward, I was going to make moves for me. What was in the best interest for me.

And for damn sure, I was going to go back to Bear Creek and I was going to slam all the martinis that I wanted. After that, I’d figure things out, because I’d woken up with a brand-new fucking lease on life.

Forget my tourist bucket list. I was doing a real bucket list.

Become fluent in Spanish. I was going to do it. Take a cruise to the Bahamas, fuck yes. Backpack through Europe . . . Maybe I’d hire someone to help me with that, but I was down. Whatever invisible strings or handcuffs that kept me chained to Beck or to the role of being Beck’s loving and supportive partner—that wasn’t going to be me anymore.

I would not ever love and support someone to the detriment of myself. That wasn’t a real partnership. I would never have that again, where I gave all of myself and they barely gave me 10 percent back.

I just needed to commit murder first.

I washed up the best I could and smoothed back my hair, cleaned my teeth with a toothbrush that had still been in its packaging and some toothpaste, then I went for the bedroom door. There were no sounds on the other side. The room was unfamiliar, so I didn’t think Jake had brought us back to his cabin.

There was a knot in my stomach as I reached for the handle. If it was locked, I was going to burn the place down.

My fingers touched the cool metal and turned. It clicked open.

Relief spread through me, which then ticked me off because I shouldn’t have to be relieved that I wasn’t being locked up yet again.

I found him.

Stopping abruptly, just inside the kitchen door, I saw him in a chair by the table. Sitting back. Eyes closed. Shirtless. Totally and completely asleep.

I already knew Jake had a good physique, but seeing his chest naked now—I trailed down the sleekness of him. All smooth muscles. There were some scars on the side, which had tattoos interweaved with them so they looked like some cool Celtic symbol.

Screw him.

My mouth watered, but I pressed my lips together.

I hated that he could affect me like this.

He deserved nothing from me, certainly no appreciation of his body.

But I couldn’t tear my eyes away. He wasn’t lean, not totally, but nor was he a bulky bodybuilder. He was solid. Perfect. His chest was hard like cement. His stomach muscles moved as he breathed. They were corded into a valley of dips and mountains.

There was no softness on him anywhere, and I was raking my gaze over every inch of him.

Jake was ripped.

Another tattoo wrapped around his entire right side, taking up the whole length. A scale with a sword in the middle. There was more scrawling over the sword, but I couldn’t see the rest from how he was sitting.

My heart hiccupped because a tenderness came over me. He was the reason I was involved in all of this, but he looked vulnerable and soft. And tired.

Really, really tired.

I thought back over the days and wondered if Jake had slept at all.

A gun was on the table beside his phone, wallet, and keys. The coffee machine was brewing behind him, and there was some food opened on the counter. Eggs. Some bread. The toaster was pulled out. A container of butter.

He was making breakfast, sat down, and fell asleep?

More of my anger slid away. Maybe I wouldn’t kill him.

I would only maim him. Permanently.

The toaster went off. Two slices of bread popped up.

Jake jerked awake.

His hand picked up his gun. At the same time, he was out of the chair, across the room, and had a hand to my throat as he pinned me to the wall to the side. All of that happened within a second, not even two. I gasped from how fast he moved.

He wasn’t letting go.

“Jake,” I said, cautious. “It’s me.”

His eyes weren’t focused. He was still half-asleep.

I pressed a hand to his chest, spreading my fingers out so he could feel as much of my palm as possible. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I was going by instinct, but I said softly, “Jake. It’s me. Sawyer.”

His hand tightened before the sleep cleared from his eyes, leaving him looking haggard and rough.

I had another moment to relax just as his hand fell away to drop the gun to the seat behind him. His arms were around me, picking me up in the next moment.

“Jak—”

His mouth slammed over mine.

I was engulfed in flames.

Panting, a need that demanded to be filled was pounding between my legs, but fuck him right now. Not the literal way. I gasped, “Jake. Stop.”

He gripped my hair and tugged my head back, lifting his eyes, glaring at me. “Don’t,” he growled, but it wasn’t what he said that quieted me. It was the absolute need in his gaze. He was stripped down, all the way, so I was seeing the deepest darkest part of him. And that part of him demanded this from me.

I gulped.

Damn.

I could hear the walls falling down around me.

I was such a weak sauce, but getting that look from him made something in me have to respond. My heart pounded once before my last bit of resistance crumbled.

I just gave in.

He saw the surrender in my eyes and a raw groan ripped from deep in his chest as he arched over me. His hands cupped the side of my face, and his mouth lowered back to mine.

I wish I could’ve fought him more. Do a little maiming at least, but I folded. I was done for. This man. This touch from him. How gently and tenderly he was kissing me, and the world swept out from underneath me.

I was falling for this psychopath.

As his kiss grew more insistent, more demanding, his hands fell away from my face to slide down my ass. He cupped both cheeks, getting a good strong and sturdy hold of them. Then he lifted me, stepping between my legs.

It felt so good, all of it.

The sweep of his tongue inside of me, as he was tasting me, claiming me too.

A helpless shudder worked its way up my spine, going backward, and by the time it got to my neck, I’d ceased thinking all together. My arms clung to him as my legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried me to a bedroom, kicking the door shut, and he turned, pressing me against it. His hand went to my thigh, gripping me tightly.

His mouth fell to my throat, tasting me. His other hand went to my shirt, shoving it aside as he grasped my breast, palming it. His finger and thumb rubbed over my nipple, playing with it. He was almost callous in his touching. There wasn’t a smoothness there, but that felt right.

I was writhing against him, just needing more. More touch. More of him.

I went to his jeans, unbuckling them. I yanked at the zipper at the same time his other hand dipped between my legs. My pajama shorts were useless. They were no barrier, and Jake easily moved them down, slipping like silk so I could part for him.

He found my clit, and I paused.

“Jake,” I gasped again, my head falling back to the wall.

The pleasure was overwhelming.

This attraction had always been there, unbidden and unwanted. The circumstances rose up, demanding we were brought together again and again, and now this. It was an explosion needing to go off.

So let us both explode.

Let us pick up the pieces after, because then we would be able to think again. We would have coherent thoughts and we could choose what we wanted to do, how to do it. But this way, there were no thoughts. Just feelings of want and need. It was ferocious and brazen, and I was blind to anything except the feel of Jake between my legs.

He slid a finger between my folds.

A moan escaped me.

“You ran.” He lifted his head, his eyes furious, but with a bloodthirst in them too. His finger shoved inside of me.

A moan slipped past my lips.

“You ran from me.” A second finger shoved inside. His thumb rubbed over my clit at the same time he pulled those fingers out, only to slide back inside. “You don’t fucking run again. Not from me. You hear me? You don’t run, ever.” He snarled, his fingers almost punishing now, and he bent forward, grazing his teeth over my throat.

Another shiver went through my whole body.

I could only hold on to Jake. The pleasure was accosting me. He felt so good. My legs tightened around him, and when his teeth teased on my skin, I squeezed him so tight that he gasped. I raised myself up.

His head lifted, a warning in his eyes.

I didn’t give a fuck.

Closing my eyes, my head fell back, and I rolled my hips, riding his hand.

“You think I should let you come on my fingers?” As he asked, they twitched deep inside of me.

I snarled. “You don’t take those fingers out of me.”

It wasn’t right how good that felt, that it was him who gave me this. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Anyone else? But it wasn’t. Just this asshole who plucked me out of my midlife identity crisis and yanked me into his world, where violence and death and ruthlessness reigned.

Fuck him for doing that, for changing everything in my world.

He stilled, just slightly.

I didn’t, still riding his hand, as I added, almost taunting, “And then when I’m done, you’re going to shove your dick inside of me and you’re going to fuck me all over again, making me come again and again and again—” I was panting as I was now in a rolling and seamless movement. Jake caught me under my hip, his hand splayed out and urging me on, helping me. “Because you’re going to fuck this need out of us.”

A savage roar burst out of him as his hand went to my neck, snatching my chin.

I stopped talking, frozen for a second from the promise of violence in that sound and touch, but he only held me. A primal sound slowly rumbled from him. “You think you can tell me what to do?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

I went back to moving over his hand, slowly to test his reaction, but when he only stabbed back inside of me, I began moving faster. A delicious pressure started pooling, rising.

I was nearing the edge.

I rasped back to Jake, “Tides have turned, asshole. When I give you an order—” I screamed as I was flung over the cliff. Pleasure pulsated inside of me, detonating everywhere, liquefying me.

The waves bombarded me as he eased me to the floor.

I dipped forward, my legs shaking and trembling, but he held me against the wall with his hips as he was making quick work between us. My underwear and shorts were whisked off. His jeans were shoved farther down, then I was picked up once more, and I only came back to the present, the last of my climax still lingering, when he lined up at my entrance.

I reached for his shoulder, my hand starting to sink in. I was going to tell him to wait because my god, that thing was huge.

He shoved inside of me, impaling me.

Oooh.

Full.

I was so full.

He groaned next to my ear, “You’re so tight. Tight and wet. And mine. You’re fucking mine, Sawyer.” His hand slid down my stomach, sliding to my clit, and he began rubbing it as he started thrusting in me. “You don’t give me orders. You really don’t tell me that I’m going to fuck this need out of us because, baby—” He’d been holding the back of my hip, half of my ass, as he started his own rhythm, but I was clinging to him enough again. He didn’t need to hold me in place, so that other hand caught my jaw again. His finger dipped inside of my mouth.

I didn’t think about it. I automatically sucked long and hard on him, tasting the mix of both of us.

His eyelids shuttered, his eyes going so black, as a vein stuck out from his neck. He was slamming into me, that other hand never stopping on my clit. He finished, darkly, “We’re just getting started, my little lunatic.”

I moaned again, a new whine rising up my throat.

He yanked us from the wall, spinning, and we fell to the bed.

He caught himself so his weight didn’t crush me, but he never pulled out of me, and once we were on the bed, he clambered up, curling over me. He began thrusting deep all over again.

This was insane. All of it. Ludicrous.

But I couldn’t deny what was happening. This link between us was an invisible string, pulling us tighter when I tried fighting it. It only grew stronger, more taut, and we were going at it, both feral, but we were feeding that connection. We couldn’t not. It had a hold on us and it wasn’t letting go.

As Jake pounded into me, another release was building in me, pulling me back under until it snapped, making all of my nerve endings flood with ardent bliss.

Jake came not long after, surging inside of me. He held still as he swelled before releasing. My insides clamped down on him, milking his climax, which made him groan. Sweat poured down both of our bodies and there was so much wetness where we were connected, but I savored this moment.

There was nothing beautiful about what we just did. It was rough, harsh, and a little ugly.

An emotion fluttered inside me.

I wanted to do it again.