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I gasp.
A cur
rent passes between us and I know he feels it, too, because our eyes both drop to where he’s holding me. It runs through my skin then back to his.
Smoke releases me so suddenly I fall back onto the carpet.
“Fine, have it your way. I’m calling your bluff.”
He reaches down and grabs me again, forcing me to stand. He rips my panties down my legs and groans when he sees the wetness on my thighs. He leans back on the couch, arms spread across the cushions. His deep voice lowers to a rumble.
“Take my cock out and ride me,” he orders, his voice low. Rough. Demanding.
Chills dance down my spine. I glance down at the large bulge between his legs and swallow hard.
“I-I…” I stutter. I’d hoped to turn him on, but I never expected to be turned on myself. Plus, I kinda forgot the part where, when it comes down to it, I don’t know what the hell I’m actually doing.
Shit.
“What’s wrong?” Smoke asks, grinning. “Change your mind?”
No, I just don’t know what to do.
I shake my head and try like hell to get a grip on my breathing.
Smoke crooks his finger at me. “Now,” he orders.
I come closer, standing in front of him with my knees against the cushions. He reaches out, grabs me by the waist and sets me on top of him so I’m straddling his large body, my legs spread impossibly wide while his hard bulge nudges my naked entrance from within his boxers.
The current between us sparks again, except this time, it courses straight through to my center. I close my eyes and groan at the sensation. I blink them back open and find Smoke staring at me with both confusion and wonderment.
There’s a shift in the air all around us and right now I imagine that in this moment he’s not my captor and I’m not his captive. He’s just a beautiful hard man and I’m just a lonely girl starving for human contact.
"What…what was that?" I ask. My voice is shaky. My breaths are short. Real true fear and lust break through the mask I’ve been wearing, and I squeeze my thighs around him because I HAVE TO.
Smoke’s mouth falls open. His fingers dig into my hips. He can see it now. He can see me. The real me. I’m both terrified and excited. My skin is flushed. My wetness is soaking through his boxers. He takes my wrists and binds them with his hands behind my back, keeping me in place. He gazes deeply into my eyes like he can see my every thought, my every dream, my every nightmare.
My every lie.
My nipples are impossibly hard. Painfully hard. He blows a breath across them, and I drop my head back at the sensation. He pulls me against him, and when my nipples meet the warm soft skin of his muscular chest, I groan.
“Fuck,” he swears, releasing my hands. I place them on his shoulders. His hands go to my hips again. He moves me. Rocking me against him. His hard cock rubs mercilessly against my clit sending that same electric current zapping over and over again with each glide. My lower stomach tightens.
My thighs flex involuntarily around his muscular thighs, and the groan that leaves his lips vibrates to my very core.
Fuck games, even if I’m the one who started it. Now, I only want more.
So much more.
I want him.
My body can’t lie. My reactions to him are real. Primal. My need is real. The pressure building in my lower stomach threatening to explode is very, very real.
“This is so fucked up,” I whisper.
“Makes it even better,” Smoke says, his lips on my collarbone, his hands on my ass.
I know it’s fucked up. I know it’s wrong. And he’s right. The wrongness of it is only making me want him more. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to do it without ever knowing what it feels like to have a man inside my body.
Thisman.
This monster.
I’m your monster.
His words echo in my brain.
The pressure is building. Smoke’s muscles flex underneath me, my nipples rub against his chest. My clit is aching. “What…what’s happening?” I ask although I don’t know what it is I’m actually asking.
Smoke’s eyes grow impossibly dark. He drags the pad of his thumb across my lips. "I have no fucking idea," he says, pushing his other hand into my hair. He tugs on the back of my head, pauses for a moment, then presses my lips to his.
A kiss.
Smoke is kissing me. His lips are hard, yet soft. His facial hair tickles my cheeks. His tongue seeks entrance, and when I give it to him, we moan into one another’s mouths while our tongues dance an unfamiliar dance where they already know all the moves. It’s rough and hard and tender and needy. He pulls my hair harder, and the searing pain gives way to even greater pleasure.
I grind myself shamelessly against his lap.
Our connection is like TV static. Loud and confusing. A million buzzing black and white dots flying into each other all at once. It doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t have to. I’m not in control.
And for the first time in my life.
I don’t want to be.
I’ve never felt anything like this.
It feels too good to stop.
Too good to be real.
I’m sure now that I’m not kissing the man who kidnapped me. I don’t have to pretend anymore. Because I really am kissing the man I saw across the street. The one who captured my attention without saying a word.
The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I’m desperate to give my body to the man who may very well be the one who takes my life.
And right now, I don’t fucking care.
Because in Smoke’s arms, I’ve come alive.
Smoke
I know there’s no limit to what Frankie will do to gain her freedom. As much as I tell her otherwise, I know she’s smart, capable, and I just learned what else she is when she came out into the living room wearing next to nothing.
The girl is cunning as fuck.
She wasn’t waiting for me to toy with her. To mind fuck her past the point of no return. Not when she has a mind-fuck of her own planned.
