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“Seven...” he warns. “Look at her. If you look at her, I'll be gentle. If you don't...” He doesn't need to finish the last part of his threat.
Seven turns his face toward me, his intense hazel gaze locked on mine as our captor slides easily into me. He's big, like Seven, but my body has decided to welcome him eagerly, not even asking for time to adjust to his size.
I moan as he slams his cock into me. It's not exactly gentle, but it's also not exactly unpleasant. I watch Seven watching me as I'm fucked and used at the whim of the twisted stranger who holds our lives in his hands. His fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts.
“Even if you can, don't come this time,” he growls. “This one isonlyfor me.”
There’s a low, hard flip in my stomach, and I feel myself go wetter as he slides even more effortlessly in and out of me. What is wrong with me? When Seven left me wanting in the bathroom, I felt hurt. This man does it, and it feels like Christmas.
I know he’ll let me come; he's just decided that this time I’m to give him everything and take nothing other than the satisfaction of his pleasure. And the part of me too broken to know it's broken excitedly complies with these demands.
He falls into a hypnotic rhythm, and I find myself opening to him more, so much so that I feel the teasing edges of a potential orgasm licking at my insides. I feel like I could chase it and catch it if I tried, but I let it flutter away like a wayward butterfly as he lets out a harsh groan, taking his pleasure and spilling into me.
“Look at him, Pretty Toy.”
My eyes haven't left Seven's, but that's not what I'm being asked to look at.
“Look how hard he is. Maybe he's not such a hero after all. Crawl to him. I want to watch you suck his dick.”
Our captor slides out of me and puts his jeans back on. I crawl over to Seven, but suddenly I can't look at him. It's somehow easier with our captor. Despite his mocking and taunts, I know he doesn't judge me because he doesn't judge. There isn't some moral barometer inside his brain deciding this is okay and that is not. So nothing I can do will ever earn judgment from him. It may earn me punishment, but never judgment.
Seven is different. He might judge me, even if he doesn't want to. And I find myself resenting him a little for it. But then my gaze is drawn to the evidence of his desire. He is so hard, his erection bulging behind his pants, straining to be free to get inside my mouth, to get to the warm wet pleasure he's just been promised.
Our captor stands just behind me, his fingers tangling in my hair. “I want to watch him come down your throat, Pretty Toy. I want to watch you swallow like a good obedient whore.”
I am so turned on right now. I know I shouldn't be. I'm in too much danger to let myself fall into this fucked-up seduction. And it’s even more fucked-up that my brain conjures up the wordseductionin relation to anything that's going on right now.
He removes his hand from my hair, and I turn back to Seven. I struggle with the button and zipper on his jeans to free him. When his cock springs free, I'm about to open my mouth to take him, when a glint of something shiny catches my eye. The syringe lies on the ground, outside of Seven's reach, but not outside mine.
I chance a quick glance up at him, and his eyes widen a fraction as he realizes what I just saw. I know our captor will kill us eventually, and I don't want to die.
Before I can let myself think or lose my courage, I grab the syringe, spin around, and jab it into our captor's thigh. I push the plunger down, making sure all the drug has emptied into his bloodstream.
I look up to find his eyes widen as he stumbles to the ground.
“Get the key,” Seven says. As if he needed to say that.
When I'm sure our captor is completely out, I slide my hand down inside his front pocket where I saw him deposit the key. It takes actual willpower not to ogle his bare chest. I'm trying to escape this psycho and somehow still feel the need to stop and admire the scenery. The animal part of me that only cares about rutting with a strong alpha male doesn't care about the reality of the situation or why I need to flee, not mount him. But he left me wanting, and the ache between my legs hasn't died down just because an opportunity to get away presented itself.
Finally I turn back toward Seven. “You'll have to drag him over to the door and stretch his arm up to the panel so we can use his thumbprint to get out,” I say, which truthfully is probably as obvious as hisGet the keycomment. But too much adrenaline is flowing to think through all the things which must be obvious to both of us in this critical moment.
I know our captor will probably be out for a while, but I'm still shaking so hard, rushing to try to unlock the metal cuff around Seven's wrist. I still can barely comprehend our luck.
“You're doing great,” Seven says.
It takes several attempts before I'm able to successfully insert the key into the lock and turn it, freeing one of his arms. I hand him the key because I don't think I can manage the next one on my own. He takes it from my shaking hand to unlock his other wrist.
I hear movement and turn, horrified, to find our captor standing over me. “Oh, Pretty Toy, that was an unfortunate choice.”
I turn quickly back to Seven to find he's gotten his other wrist free. He pulls himself to stand, but before he can prepare to fight off our captor, a needle is going into his neck, and he slumps to the floor. Does it just last a few minutes?
Our captor has the shackles around Seven's wrists and the key back in his pocket faster than I can process.
I scramble back as he advances. He tips the syringe he just injected into Seven toward me to reveal a red round label on top of the plunger.
“This is the one with the drugs. What you gave me? Was a saline solution. It was a test, and I'm sorry to say you failed it, Kate.”
I look over to Seven's unconscious body then back to our captor. I don't think people can really die from fear. Because if they could, I would be dead right now—a shadowy misty soul floating high in the air above my expired corpse. But no, fate is not so kind to give me such a quick death, and the look in his eyes says whatever is coming will be slow.
