Page 11 of His Hostage

I start and stop the bike loudly. The rumbling echoes throughout the garage, but it ceases after a few seconds.

I need parts, but I can’t move forward until I find a real mechanic around the area that wants to deal with a felon.

There’s a loud knock on my garage, so I open it. I’m shirtless because it’s hot as hell inside this room. It’s not like I plan this shit out.

It’s her. Sweet Caroline. “I thought I told you to keep it down,” she says.

She’s wearing a cute dress, which of course causes my heart to race. “Can you put on some clothes for once?” she asks.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead with a handkerchief and sigh loudly. “I’m fixing my bike. It’s hot in here. I didn’t ask you to come over.”

She takes one look at the man-cave I’ve set up for myself and scoffs.

To be honest, I’m getting a little tired of this game.

“Well, try to keep it down,” she says. “I’m trying to read.”

I sit back against the wall. “Sure thing.”

I tighten a loose bolt and grimace when I think about how long this job is going to take. I expect her to up and leave, but she’s not moving.

Instead, she’s just standing there, burning a hole into the back of my head. I can’t tell if she’s angry or if this is her way of giving me an invitation to reach up that dress of hers.

“You know,” I begin speaking. “If you keep coming over, I’m going to think you want a little something extra from me.”

“Pig,” she murmurs under her breath and walks back to her place.

I own the title. “Damn straight,” I say.

Another day. Another dollar. I’ll win her over soon enough.

6

Caroline

His hands slide through the covers, underneath my satin sheets, making his way down the desert of my body, until he reaches the center of everything, the center of my very being.

I feel his fingers part my lips and slide inside me. He finds my g-spot, and I let out a shrill cry, enough for the snakes outside to hear.

He swivels inside and out, and I feel his wet palm come across my mouth.

“Shh,” he whispers. “We don’t want anyone to hear. Do we?”

I look down at him. He’s wearing that tattered pair of denim jeans. His boots are knocked over at the edge of the windowsill he came in from. He keeps whispering, like the snakes outside, telling me what I want to hear.

I grip around his rigid cock, and I swear I can feel his blood pulse against the flesh. He doesn’t leave me any time to think about what he’s about to do.

He crawls over me and thrusts his hips forward. He’s slow and methodical, slithering his tongue around my own.

I can taste the sin in him. I can taste the anger. Something happened to this man and now he’s taking it all out on me.

He’s my best-kept secret, the man next door. Ron was bad, but this guy is so much worse.

I know he’s going to ruin me.

One kiss, and I feel him shoot inside of me. Hot come in hard spurts. He fills me up and kisses even harder as I attempt to stop him.

Of course, I want him. But he’s a snake. And one bite from a snake can take you out forever.

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