A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

“Sawyer—”

I didn’t realize I was across the room, with a hand up in the air, as if I was going to strike him until an ugly look came over Jake’s face. He was up in my face, forcing me backward, but if anything, that unleashed more of my fury.

It was alive inside of me. Writhing. Needing an outlet.

Fuck this guy. Goddamn. This guy.

I was snarling because in that moment, I hated him. How fucking dare he involve me in his shit?

Images flashed in my mind.

How he got in my face on the subway train.

How surprised he was at seeing me in the police station.

How he stared at me, coming to stand in front of me as if he wanted to say something to me.

How his cousin threw her arms around me, demanding I come with them, but it was his look that was coming to my memory now.

How he looked pleased at the thought.

Pleased.

Fucking pleased!

A pent-up growl began low in my stomach, and as it rose up, moving through my throat, traveling to my mouth, it was savage and boiling, and when I let it loose, I was seeing things in a whole new light.

He did this. He wanted me to come with them.

This was his fault.

His.

How dare he?

I was done. Officially done. I’d reached my limit of taking this bullshit.

A dark warning was in his eyes as his hand closed around my hip. “Don’t—”

“You don’t!”

His eyes went feral, and I reacted, matching it. I was all about that. The inferno inside of me was lit up and needing an outlet. He just volunteered as tribute.

He went feral. I went primal.

I lunged at him, and since we were so close, my body hit against his, but instead of both of us going backward, he caught me. His arms wrapped around my body, and I was held imprisoned in the air. Somehow that made it worse, and I screamed, struggling to get free while I hit his shoulder.

“Goddammit,” he growled, readjusting his hold.

We were moving.

I kept trying to kick free from him, but then we were falling.

My back hit the bed, and he landed on top of me, but he must’ve caught his weight somehow. He didn’t crush me. I was stunned for a second, and he used that time to lay his entire weight down on top of me.

“Stop.” He pinned me down, moving my wrists so they were beside my head.

I couldn’t. I, just, couldn’t.

I began fighting again. “I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

He growled again, a vicious sound ripping from him, as he moved my arms higher. When I tried bucking him off me, he twisted, scissoring my legs open in one smooth move, and he maneuvered himself between them, kicking them out so I couldn’t move them except—I wrapped them around his waist, and oooh.

We both paused.

Anger was still boiling in me and I couldn’t hit out at him. That made it worse. “Fuck you.” My voice broke. My chest was heaving.

He lifted his head higher so he could see me better.

We stared at each other.

He was breathing hard as well.

I didn’t think it was from the exertion of fighting me.

Shit.

My fight was changing swiftly, lighting up my arousal.

His eyes darkened, seeing the change.

I was still breathing hard, my chest rising up and down rapidly.

But then he ground against me, purposefully, and held my gaze the whole time.

That felt good.

Dammit.

His head fell to the side, his eyes closing. He did it again, pressing harder into me, holding it there.

We both groaned.

That felt so good. I gasped lightly. The throbbing between my legs was spreading through my body. Racing all the way up, sending sensations through me until my mouth was watering again.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

I hadn’t thought that through when I got up from the couch.

I ground up against him.

“Sawyer. Wai—” he rasped into my ear, his entire body pressing me down.

I didn’t. I lifted my hips up against him again, rotating. I panted. The inferno in me transformed so fast into lust now. Need.

I was aching from a whole different outlet.

I licked my lips because a deep yearning took root inside of me, starting to pulsate at the base of my spine.

I needed this touch. I needed to feel good, for once.

All the pain from the last couple weeks, I wanted it gone. The fear of being shot at. I came to this city despondent. Lost. My spirit had been fractured, but this, here with him—he could make me feel good. He could make me forget. And suddenly, that’s the only thing I was desperate for.

I needed to forget.

Turning my head, I fused my mouth to his. That taste electrified me, and I groaned, trying to pull my hands free.

I was beyond caring about anything else except the feel of him on top of me.

I gasped into his mouth, “Jake.”

“Sawyer.” Jake lifted his head, tearing his mouth from me as he gazed down at me, his eyes very alert, very focused. “Wha—” He let go of one of my wrists, running his hand down my arm.

My hand shot to his jaw, and I held him.

His eyes smoldered, and for a moment, we scowled at each other.

Need pulsated through me. I could feel it in the air, the pressure was pushing down on us. Everything else faded away. It was only him. Me. He studied me, until he saw whatever he needed. The searching look cleared, another darker emotion slamming into its place, overriding everything else.

He pushed against me, up and into me, and right there. God. Right there.

Pulling my other hand free, it went to his hip. My fingers dug in as he moved over me.

That’s where I needed him.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice thick and hoarse.

It’s what I needed. That’s all that mattered to me. I lifted my mouth up to him for my answer. That was enough for Jake. He took over, opening his mouth over mine, demanding entrance.

I granted it, his tongue sliding inside. And I moaned, my toes curling from how good he tasted.

It was like he was eating me from the inside out, in long and slow bites.

My body was buzzing. My blood whirled.

My hand went to his shirt, and I pushed at it.

He shifted, cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ.” He caught his shirt, his gaze taking me in, probably seeing the madness that invaded me. Whatever he saw, it had an effect on him. He whisked his shirt off, his movements going fast. His hand slid under my back, lifting me up off the bed.

I’d never experienced that. A man lifting me as easily as he did, rearranging me so deftly. My mouth parted.

He lifted his head, holding my gaze with an intensity that held me captive. I almost didn’t dare to move, afraid to break whatever this new spell was wrapping around us. As I held my breath, waiting, his hand slid down my back, sliding inside my pants. He cupped my ass, yanking me further against him. The pleasure overwhelmed me.

That friction was what I needed. Carnal pleasure rocketing through me.

His hand slid over my hip again and he moved to the side so his free hand began undoing the drawstrings on my pants. He didn’t move them down, but there was enough room for him. His hand dipped between my legs, burrowing underneath my panties.

He continued to watch me, burning fiercely as he slid a finger inside of me.

I gasped, arching my back.

He felt so good inside of me, and he thrust in, slowly, stretching me. He went farther into me, going as far as he could. I gasped. Fuck. He felt good in there. A second finger joined, stretching me even more. He rubbed against my walls before pulling them out, only to push them back in.

He started the rhythm.

In and out.

He went faster, building.

Harder.

Holding.

Moving out and then in. He hit the right spot, and just then, his thumb began rubbing over my clit.

“Is this what you wanted?” he demanded, gritty. “What your pussy wanted?”

I opened my eyelids, just barely, watching him from underneath.

He saw me, and a knowing smirk formed over his face, but his eyes were just as heated as I knew mine were.

He kept sliding in and out of me. His thumb’s rubbing became more measured. More purposeful. “You’re dripping. Is that for me? Hmmm.” He leaned down, his nose nuzzling alongside my jaw. He stayed there, his hand playing me like a puppet, pulling my strings exactly how he wanted me to jump and dance. “You were soaked before I touched you. That was all for me. Wasn’t it? Because you want this from me. Your cunt is pleading for me. Isn’t it?”

I frowned, briefly. The pleasure was overwhelming. I could only hold on to him as he continued plundering inside of me.

“Sawyer,” he said briskly, his hand slid out from underneath me, finding my throat. At the same time, he lifted himself up, rising over me, but he didn’t move away. He just readjusted so he was looming over me more. He was in a more dominant position, and slowly, as every single one of his muscles was so tight, working so smoothly together, he slowly, almost achingly, pushed me all the way down to the bed. He had both hands on me, one pinning me down at my throat as the other continued moving inside of me with those long and smooth strokes.

I panted, my mouth opening.

I couldn’t do anything.

Somehow, at some point, he shifted the dynamic between us where he took on the look of a predator. I was his prey and he was watching me with glittering eyes, so fucking intent on what he was doing to my body.

“Answer me.” His voice shook with his restraint.

My eyes widened, but I gasped softly. “Harder.”

His eyes narrowed. That wasn’t the right thing to say, and he stopped, his fingers still pushed so far in me that I didn’t think he could go any deeper. “What did you say?”

“Go. Harder.”

His head moved back, his body lifting off me so he was sitting up but straddling me. His knees sank down to the bed on either side of me, his muscled thighs closing me in. He still held me down with a hand to my throat. The other inside of me. His knuckles rubbed against the insides of my thighs.

“You don’t know this.” He lowered his head, his forehead rested on mine, and his breath coated me, warming my mouth. “But I don’t take orders, not anymore, and most certainly not in bed from some stranger who wants to escape life for a hot fucking minute.”

Stranger. Hot fucking minute.

Anger blasted me.

I narrowed my eyes. Fuck him.

He saw it, and a cruel smirk came over him. His thumb lifted, going up to my chin and he tugged down, opening my mouth. “You asked for this. You initiated this.”

As he began speaking, his fingers inside of me twitched, rubbing.

A moan escaped me, but fuck. I hadn’t wanted that to come out.

My teeth sank down on my bottom lip, trying to keep from another slipping free. He held me captive, in multiple ways now, but he didn’t need more evidence of how complete his hold was on me.

He smirked again. A dark triumphant look shone briefly before he turned his head, his lips brushing against mine. He said in a low tone, almost a warning, “You want this?”

I swallowed against his hand. His grip tightened before relaxing.

I cursed before saying, “Yes.” Because, god help me, I did. So much. Afterward I would condemn myself, but right now, I didn’t think there was anything I wouldn’t say or do to feel him push inside of me. I wanted all of him. I wanted to see how far I would stretch for him, and then I wanted him to fuck me into oblivion.

He brushed a kiss, an almost achingly tender kiss, against the corner of my mouth.

Tingles shot through my entire body.

“Say please, Sawyer.”

I—I couldn’t. I guess there was a line I wouldn’t cross. Did he want to humiliate me?

“What are you doing?”

His hand tensed around my throat again, before he released me, only to slowly run his hand down my front. He pushed my shirt as far down as it would go before he switched directions, yanking it up and over my head. My bra was next, and then his hand went back to my chest, and he ran it between my breasts, pausing in the middle. He moved to cup one of them, his thumb tweaking over my nipple. “I’m doing whatever the fuck I want to do. That’s what I’m doing.” He’d been watching his hand as he played with my breast but lifted his eyes to meet mine again. His fingers continued moving into me. His top lip curled upward, not in a nice way. “You came at me.”

“I’m pissed at you.”

A hard look came into his gaze. His fingers were still holding still inside of me.

The throbbing was compounding me, spreading up through my stomach. I wriggled around, trying to get some relief from it, just a little.

He said flatly, “I apologized.”

“I don’t care.” But I did. I would, just later.noveldrama

His eyes went flat. “Trust me. If I’d known what would be happening, I never would’ve met you. But we’re both here now, and you’re trying to use me to get you off. That is what you’re doing, right? You want a quick fuck to escape our shitty reality? I’m supposed to give that to you.” His eyes grew colder as he spoke, and when he was done, a third finger shoved in. Rough and fast.

I gasped, my body squirming under his from the penetration, but fuck. I began panting again because that was exactly what my body needed. Pleasure coated the edges of my vision so I closed my eyes. Arching up against him once again, it was a second before I opened my eyes again, seeing his head folded. He was watching us, where his hand was between my legs.

“I don’t like being used.” His words sounded like an afterthought. “But that’s all I’ve been, all my life. Someone else’s fucking puppet.” He lifted his head again, still bent over me. I gulped at the blazing determination shining so fiercely in his eyes. He blinked. A starkness replacing it. “Not anymore. That ends today.”

And with that, he pulled out, clambering off me.

I jerked up, a protest in my throat. “Wha—what are you doing?”

He was gone in a flash.

The bedroom door slammed shut behind him.

I was still on the bed, confused at the sudden change in everything, before the next sound registered.

A lock clicked into place.

What . . .

No.

I jerked off the bed, catching myself before I stumbled, and then crossed the room to the door. I pulled it open, except it didn’t.

I jerked on the handle again. “What?”

No, no.

I hit it. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer except I heard another door slamming shut.

A few seconds passed.

My heart was pounding in my chest. Where was he going?

His headlights turned on outside the cabin, and I could hear his vehicle leaving.

That asshole had left me. Again.