"Because honestly, I'm getting fucking tired of that fucking look you give me every time I tie you up."
"Then you could stop tying me-"
"Shut up and listen."
She glares at me.
"Here's the deal. You're gonna want to stay here."
She gives me a look.
"Oh, I know you don't like me, sweetheart."
I nod at the beer I've placed in front of her, and she looks at it skeptically.
"It's not a trick, have a beer."
She eyes me as she lifts it up and takes a sip.
"Look, I know you think I'm a monster," I growl. "And you're half right; I am not a nice man, Sierra. But, there are worse men than me out there, and guess what?"
She chews her lip. "What."
"Those worse men saw you when you walked in on them shooting at me and my Russian contact and then running out. I got one of them, but the worse of the two is out there, telling his buddies with the Ukrainian crime syndicate every fucking detail of that pretty little face of yours he can remember. And if you think I'm telling you this to scare you," my jaw tightens.
"You're right, I am. If they don't have a guy looking through your apartment right now, then the Ukrainian mob standards have really slipped."
She swallows thickly, her face going white.
"I'm assuming you live alone?"
She makes a face. "Why would you assume that?"
I just grin at her.
"You are such an asshole."
"No, I'm just very good at reading people."
"I think it's the voicing it out loud part that makes you an asshole."
"Guilty."
She slumps in her seat.
"I don't have an answer for you, but for now, we stay here. For now, this is the safest place in the city. Okay?"
She looks at me, and though she doesn't say, I know what she's thinking. She's wondering how safe she is from me while we're locked in here together.
Truth be told, I'm wondering the same fucking thing.
I give her my bed again, without the ropes and binds this time. I stalk back over to my couch in the living room, pulling off my t-shirt on the way over. And I'm shrugging my pants off when I hear her peep from across the room. I grin.
"Yes?"
I turn and she's fastidiously looking away.
"Something catch your eye, princess?"
I run my fingers through my hair, standing there grinning at her in just my damn boxers. I'm teasing her, and I shouldn't be, but I also don't really give a shit.
"No."
I chuckle to myself. I like that me in my underwear catches her off guard. Let her look, at the muscles, the scars, the tattoo ink.
I like flustering her.
"If you feel like a closer look, you know which bunk is mine."
"I don't," she says sharply.
I grin as I turn to the bathroom.
Idiot. You're a fucking idiot.
What the fuck am I stoking this fire for? "Flustering" her? Teasing her?
I need to stop this. No - no teasing her, like we're kids on a fucking playground. No trying to rile her up, like this is some sort of office flirtation.
This is strictly hands off, and strictly untouchable, and I need to strictly fucking remember that.
I'm still telling myself all these things as I step into the bathroom, and close the door. I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm able to stop lusting over this hot young thing in my bed - the one wearing an old pair of my boxers and a white undershirt that's been showing me her fucking nipples all goddamn night.
And I'm pretty sure my telling myself that I'm stronger than this is starting to work when my eyes drop to the doorknob of the closed bathroom door.
… And the pair of little, red, lace, thong panties hanging on it.
My cock throbs.
It's like waving a red flag at a bull. It's like in cartoons, where the fucking rabbit jumps up and howls and his heart goes thumping out of his chest.
I reach out, and I snatch them off the doorknob before I know what I'm doing.
Fuck.
I groan, feeling my cock pulse rock hard in my boxers. It's like a spell. It's like all the things I've told myself all night go right out the window as I trace my fingers over the silky edge of those little panties that were pressed up against her tight little pussy.
Jesus Christ.
I groan as I reach down, my hand absently cupping and squeezing my cock. My muscles tense and I wrap my fingers around myself through the cotton, stroking my cock as run my fingers over the panties.
"I don't suppose kidnappers have spare toothbrush-"
The door flings open and she comes flying into me, gasping as my hands go around her. I fall back against the sink counter, this sweet little angel in my arms and her soft belly pressed right against my throbbing, rock hard cock.
Sierra gasps, her eyes dragging up to me, her lips parted, her eyes wide.
She swallows heavily, her pulse beating like a drum in the hollow of her neck.
"I- I mean, I was looking for a toothbrush," she whispers.
She shifts, and I know she feels me against her body.
"I- a toothbrush," she says quietly.
"You said that."
"I should have knocked."
"You should have."
She's not pulling away, and she's not screaming.
She's just panting, her face red and her eyes locked onto mine.
"Should have knocked," I growl, my hands moving to her hips on instinct.
"I know," she pants.
I can see the flush across her chest and her cheeks, her nipples poking right through that undershirt. I bring my hand up and slide it into her hair, tangling my fingers in it.
I pull on it, and she gasps as I tilt her head back, her eyes flashing fire and her lips parting.
"I-"
"This you still trying to be a bad girl?"
She whimpers, and I swear to fucking God, her body presses tighter to mine. Her hands tighten on my chest, fingers dragging over my skin.
"Or maybe," I growl, tugging her hair. "Maybe you just wanna be my bad girl."
She moans.
This girl fucking moans, and it's the last thing I can take.
This time, I kiss her.
Hard.
And unlike the bar, this time, I'm not going to let her go until I take what I want.
Chapter Seventeen
Sierra
He pulls my hair hard, making my body shiver and making me gasp, just as he kisses my mouth.
His tongue is insistent, his lips so smooth and soft. I open my mouth for him, moaning as his tongue finds mine. My head is spinning - my thoughts a tornado as the rough man who stole me, who bound me, who kept me here makes me his.
Fingers tighten on that firm chest of his, and I moan again as I feel his cock throb against my belly. One of his hands drops to my ass, grabbing it possessively and making me squirm tight against him.
No one has ever kissed me like this before.
So possessively.
So roughly.
So demandingly.
And I kiss him right back. This is so wrong, and this is probably what Stockholm syndrome feels like, and I'm sure something must be broken inside of me, but I can't deny it anymore.
I want him to make me forget about tonight. I want him to make me forget about this night and all the other nights over the past few months where I've been drowning in indecision and not knowing what to do.
The kiss takes it all away. The kiss makes me forget, and makes me sink into him instead.
He turns us around and spins me, pressing me against the counter, facing the mirror. I moan as his hands grab my hips, pulling me back into him. His lips find my neck, his hands roughly going up my body to cup my breasts through the undershirt.
I'm panting, clutching at the counter, reaching back to slip my fingers through his hair as he bites my neck hard.
His fingers twist my nipples, slipping low to tease my belly. He pulls my jaw around and kisses me fiercely, his hand slipping up under the undershirt.
I'm shivering, wanting this and so scared of it at the same time. But the first wins out.
I definitely want this.
I definitely want this rough, dominant man to take what he wants from me.
He pulls my head around even more, kissing my mouth again and tasting my lips. His rough hands push the undershirt up and cup my breasts as he growls into my mouth.
I can feel him grinding into my ass, and when his fingers drop to the waist of the boxers of his I'm wearing, I only whimper as I feel them slip inside.
I gasp as he yanks them down to my knees with a growl. His lips bite and suck and nibble down my neck, over my shoulder blades, down every bump of my spine as the room spins around me and as I feel my pulse roar inside.
He moves lower, his powerful hands holding me firm against the vanity as he slowly kneels behind me. I can feel the flush creeping up into my face, my bottom lip catching between my teeth as his hands skim up and down the backs of my bare thighs.
"Spread your legs," he commands.
I pant, nodding and barely able to breathe as the jolt of raw desire pulses through me. I'm so fucking wet I can barely stand it - so aching for this that I can barely stand.
"I want you to reach back and spread your ass for me."
I hesitate, but then I moan as I feel him grab my hands and pull them back behind me. He places them on my ass, and I groan as I slowly spread myself for him.
"Good girl," he growls darkly, and I'm sure he can see my pussy getting even wetter.
I can feel his hot breath teasing over my thighs, and I start to shiver at the teasing, tickling feel of it when I feel him move towards my center. His breath teased over the lips of my pussy, and I moan - my fingers digging into my own skin as I spread myself for him.
He moves closer, and when I suddenly feel the hot, wet jolt of his tongue dragging over my seam, I cry out. Connor growls, pulling me back into him by the thighs and burying his tongue deep in my pussy. I can feel the rumblings of his moans pulsing through me, his strong hands holding me fast as he starts to fuck me with his tongue.