Wyatt-1(Lane Brothers, Book 1)(10)
This new development is big, and Miah is right; I’ll have to step it up a lot if I want to get Ellie behind closed gates and into my family home where she’ll be safe.
The only way to do that is to tell her everything. I won’t—not yet—so, instead, I start planning. The brothers will be onboard, and I know Ma would keep her lips shut if I asked—Dad, too. It’s just a matter of keeping Ellie shut in and keeping the others shut out that poses a problem.
They’ll meet soon, I know. I’ve planned for it, but not till I have my ring on her finger and enough evidence to eliminate the threat they’ve become.
Oh, and I fully intend to impregnate my girl so that she’ll be tied to me by more than the pleasure I plan to give her and a piece of paper that means less than the ink it’s signed with.
I know Ellie and that stubborn streak of hers, and she’ll bolt no matter how much she loves me. So I need these ties first, and there’s only one way to get it.
With that in mind, I do something I would consider vile in any other circumstances and unsnap the button of her jeans, letting the zipper down slowly.
When all she does is snuffle and snuggle closer into my front, I slip my hand into her panties and start searching her out. She’s smooth, warm, and perfect when my fingers slip through her slit, bypassing the fat lips I’m dying to see and taste.
Once I find the hard kernel of pleasure nestled in her folds, I start rubbing in soft, slow circles, my touch feather light and achingly drawn out so as not to wake her.
It hurts to touch her so intimately with my sex so stiff and pained when all I want is to strip her, roll her over, and lick every crevice.
I want her pleasure drunk in her sleep and humping my hand to climax. That way, when she wakes in the morning with dreams of pleasure and the wetness in her panties, she’ll be so off-balance that I can launch a full attack on her defences.
Her hips start bumping and she sighs long and deep, still fast asleep and hopefully dreaming of me as her sex strains for release. My thumb stays on her button as my fingers slip lower, and I growl out a curse when her opening contracts and sucks at my fingertip.
So warm and moistening quickly!
“Uhhm.”
Yes, baby, that’s it, get yourself off on my hand, I snarl silently when she bares down to take my finger to the first knuckle inside her walls. A flood of wetness rushes forth to meet my touch, and I grit my teeth so as not to do something I’ll only regret later.
Ellie is lost in her dreamy quest for fulfilment, and I have to wrestle my beast back when she moves harder, her clenching around my digit a torture to my dick.
When I speed up my thumb where it hits her nub and use just the tip of my finger to tickle just inside her sex, sending her into an intense orgasm, it physically hurts to pull back and zip her jeans up before she can awaken and know what’s going on.
She’s still sleeping peacefully, her face a display of fulfilment when I guiltily take my erection out and start stroking slowly.
By the time I’ve brought myself off beside her unaware form, I’m covered in my own cum and hornier than I was before.
Shit. Ellie better get with it quick, or I’m afraid things will get ugly soon.
Chapter Four
Ellie
I feel weird and absolutely mortified when I stretch awake and blink my eyes open the next morning. I dreamed about my captor all night long, and that’s saying a lot because we retired in the late afternoon, which means I spent a good twelve hours, if the clock beside the bed is right, having dirty dreams about the man.
Stop perving over him and you won’t!
But how not to? The man is gorgeous and perfect for the old me I’ve been trying to supress all these years, and my untouched vagina knows it, too. The first dream was tame compared to the others, and that’s horrible because I’d been dreaming of his hand on me, in me, and giving me so much pleasure that for the first time in forever I actually got off before the dream ended.
That in and of itself is a miracle, because even in college I’d woken up before the grand finale every time. Doesn’t say much, not when my dreams had starred my lackluster boyfriends and hadn’t left me aching the way I am now.
Do not ache for your kidnapper, Ellie, it’s a bad idea. You know it’s dangerous. That way lies risk and the probability that you’re getting killed.
My biggest hurdle is that after one lousy day of his company, I just can’t see a man like Wyatt being the bad guy. The bad boy, yes, but nothing at all like Bolton was, and definitely not the type of man who’ll hurt me or rape me.
Nothing about this scenario fits, and that’s what’s got me hopping in my head.
If I believe him and my instincts, it’s possible that he’s telling the truth and that he just wants me. Unbelievable. Why would a man like Wyatt want a woman like me? I mean, I’m not a dog or anything, but I’m no supermodel.