Page 9

My voice cracks, panic rising in my throat. She’s not moving. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was going to keep her safe, to give her pleasure, to show her—

I scan the slope, looking for the safest way down. It’s too steep to run, but I spot a path where the ground seems more stable. I begin to descend sideways, one foot carefully placed before the other, using saplings and rocks as handholds. My boots slide on the arid earth, sending small avalanches of pebbles down toward the river. I must look ridiculous—the intimidating frontman of Dark Distortion inching down a hill on his ass, slowly like a cautious child.

But I don’t care how I look. All I care about is reaching her, making sure she’s not hurt because of me.

As I near the bottom, relief floods me—her chest is rising and falling. She’s breathing. I approach more quickly now, my guard lowered by concern. “Vivian? Can you hear me?”

The moment I’m within range, her eyes fly open, and her leg shoots out, catching me hard in the ribs. The pain is sharp and unexpected, knocking the wind from me, but I can’t help the smirk that forms on my lips. Thank god. She wasn’t hurt at all. She was waiting…. For me.

“You little—”

I don’t finish the sentence as she tries to scramble away, kicking at me again. This time I’m ready, catching her ankle and pulling her toward me. She fights like a wildcat, twisting and shoving, but I have the advantage of size and strength—and her hands are still awkwardly bound at the front.

In a fluid movement born from adrenaline rather than skill, I manage to pin her to her back and straddle her hips, locking her arms above her head. After all, I don’t want to hurt her, just immobilize her. We’re both breathing hard, our faces inches apart. Every curve of her body beneath me makes my cock respond immediately, hardening further against the confines of my jeans.

The sudden pressure of my erection against her core makes her eyes widen, and I notice a flush spreading across her cheeks that has nothing to do with exertion. I shift slightly, adjusting my position, and the heat of her radiates through both our jeans.

“That chase was fucking hot,” I murmur against her ear, my voice dropping an octave. Deliberately, I roll my hips against her, creating friction that sends sparks up my spine. “You feel that? What you do to me?”

I pull back a little and her breath hitches. Her eyes widen, the green morphing into black—anger mixed with something else entirely. Something hungry. Something I want to feed.

I do it again, a slow grind that has my cock throbbing painfully against my zipper, and her lips part involuntarily.

The river rushes beside us, its gentle roar providing a relaxing soundtrack to our ragged breathing. Moonlight dances across her face, highlighting the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the fullness of her lips. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

I lower my gaze to her chest and notice her nipples standing at attention beneath her orange shirt and through her bra. My mouth goes dry at the sight.

“Can I… touch you here?” I ask, hovering one hand above her tits.

The question surprises me as much as it seems to surprise her; this wasn’t part of the fantasy, asking permission. But suddenly, it matters—it matters so fucking much what she wants. After all, the lack of consent was just for the kidnapping. I want her to want me as much as I want her.

Now that I think about it… I was hoping for that common Stockholm syndrome micro-trope to hit here and help me out, but… she doesn’t look like the type to fall for someone just because the situation is dire or I’m the only one around. She’s a strong, independent woman. She’ll most likely kick me into oblivion and get away to safety before looking at me as her savior or the love of her life. The more I overanalyze my plan—riddled with more holes than swiss cheese—the more I understand that it was rooted in fantasy, and it probably won’t work as I intended.

But I can improvise.

I know how to improvise.

Her eyes widen as if she wasn’t expecting the question. There’s a moment where I think she’ll refuse, but then she whispers, “Please,” in such a breathless way, and the word goes straight to my cock.

I bring my hand down, cupping her soft boob through her shirt, feeling the weight‌ in my palm. Her nipple hardens further against my touch, and I tease it with my thumb over her bra, watching her reaction closely. I’ve never been a tits kind of guy—I’m more into thighs—but hell if Vivian doesn’t make me obsessed. Every single part of her is a masterpiece. When her eyes flutter closed and a small moan escapes her lips, a surge of power unlike anything I’ve experienced on stage washes over me.

There are beautiful sounds, and there are Vivian’s sounds—a league above everything else I now notice. I gulp and carefully watch her reactions, documenting every single detail.

I continue grinding my hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm, pressing my cock against her core while teasing her nipples, first one and then the other. Heat radiates from her even over the thin bra she’s wearing, even through layers of denim, and it’s driving me insane.

“Fuck,” I breathe, watching her arch into my touch. “You’re so responsive. So fucking perfect.”

On this side of the river, the moonlight bathes us both in silver, turning the scene into something out of a dream—her bound hands above her head, her hair spread out beneath her, her body moving beneath mine. The sound of the water rushing by becomes a distant hum as all my focus narrows to the woman beneath me.

I’m so turned on I can barely think straight. My cock keeps straining painfully against my jeans, demanding release. Without breaking the rhythm of my hips, I unbutton my jeans and slide the zipper down, sighing with relief as the pressure eases. I pull myself out, my cock standing thick and heavy in the cool night air.

Vivian’s eyes drop to where I’m holding myself, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Oh, fuck, she likes it. The sight nearly undoes me. I’m still straddling her, still rolling my hips against her, but now I wrap my hand around my thick shaft and give myself a slow stroke using the pre-cum already leaking from the tip, never taking my eyes off her face.

“You watching me, cariad? You want a taste?” My accent thickens with arousal, making the words come out rougher than intended.

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t look away, either, her gaze fixed on the movement of my hand. I stroke myself again, from base to tip, and more pre-cum beads at the head. Her eyes dilate further, pupils expanding until there’s just a thin ring of green around the black.

“Use your words, Vivian…”