Page 37 of Locked in Wonderland

No other reason.

Because what kind of sicko would I be if I were into this?

It would be twisted for my pulse to kick up a notch as I ran my hands over muscled thighs. It would be even worse to be hard.

I focused on practical details instead.

Trousers, not jeans, the fabric too soft to be denim.

Information. Useful information.

Anything that kept this feeling like a transaction instead of whatever else it threatened to become.

Suck his cock and get out of here.

Easy. Simple. Nothing I hadn’t done in my younger years. Maybe not in the pitch black, but certainly with men I’d only just met and never seen again after the exchange of blow jobs.

The bulge beneath his trousers told me he was already half-hard before my fingers even found the zipper.

Kinky fucker.

“Is this what you do?” I asked as I undid the button and eased the zipper down. His underwear came with the trousers when I pushed them lower. “Prey on men in the dark? You must be one ugly bastard if this is the only way you can get someone to suck your dick.”

I didn’t know what reaction I’d expected. Anger, maybe. It wasn’t the low, throaty laugh that rumbled above me.

He found me funny.

Great.

Let’s see if he was still laughing when I made him come in record time. With that in mind, I got to work.

He was bigger than I’d expected. Bigger than most of the cocks I’d sucked, including Warren’s. I shut that thought down immediately. I didn’t need to be thinking about Warren while I was doing this. His abduction might have kicked off this nightmare, but he wasn’t responsible for the traps I kept walking into.

That was all me.

I started with my tongue, licking a line from base to tip and back again before teasing the slit. Then I took him to the back of my throat, fighting down my gag reflex and reminding myself that this was about making him come quickly rather than my personal comfort.

After only a couple of bobs of my head, fingers fastened on my cheeks, controlling the pace and depth. He was gentle at first and then became more insistent until he was fucking my mouth and I had no choice but to hold on and take it.

I’d like to say I hated it.

The throbbing cock trapped inside the leather trousers gave that away as a lie.

His pre-cum tasted sweet. Ridiculously sweet. Like he lived on pineapple.

Maybe he did.

He shifted the angle, pushing deeper, and a muffled groan escaped me before I could stop it.

I hated myself for that sound.

Could you hate something and love it at the same time?

Apparently.

I hated being here. Hated that, for the second time that night, with two different men—or was it four?—I’d been stripped down to nothing but sensation, left with nowhere to hide.

But I loved the feel of him sliding over my tongue. Loved the tremor that had started in his thighs. Most of all, I loved the small gasps and involuntary sighs that slipped free as he edged closer to climax.