Stealing Her Page 9

  Safe.

  Warm.

  Valued.

  Even treasured.

  He looks at me with both awe and control, and I know he knows what I need. He can sense it without my ever having to voice a single word. He can just look at me and see my longing. Chains can see where I’m empty, what I need to be filled. And more than that, he’s willing to help me feel less empty. He’s going to show me how to survive this lonely time.

  He’s saving me.

  I rest my cheek against his chest, reveling again in the stable, steady thump-thump-thump of his strong heart. I hear his footsteps and feel my body being slightly jostled as he walks out of the cell. He carries me over the threshold and I let out a long, slow breath of relief to be out of there.

  My eyes flutter open behind the blindfold, which lets just enough light filter through for me to realize that we are, for certain, out of the dark holding cell. I bask in the light even though I can’t really see it, and I draw another deep breath of fresher, less stale air. My lungs seem to swell with gratitude, and I wonder how much damage has been done to them via breathing in the recycled, damp air of the cell. Either way, it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that Chains is holding me, and for the first time in days, I actually feel safe.

  I feel his steps get higher and broader as he carries me up a flight of stairs, all along breathing in the fresher air, feeling it heal me from the inside. The air here is cooler than inside the cell, and goosebumps pop up along my arms and legs, making me shiver.

  Chains responds by holding me a little closer, a little tighter, almost as though he’s trying to soothe me. A gentle breeze ruffles through the wisp-thin fabric of my top, and I flush with embarrassment to feel my nipples stiffening. They’re so sensitive, responding to ever flutter of fabric and intimate breeze. I try to shift myself around in his arms slightly to better hide the stiffening peaks of my breasts but I know there’s no point.

  He can see me.

  He can see everything.

  And besides that, I know deep down that he can sense it too— every subtle change of my body is clear to him.

  The sleeve of my sweater slips down my left shoulder, exposing my bra strap and part of my delicate collarbone. My face flushes an even deeper pink, as I feel like I’m showing too much skin. I can’t see, of course, but all my other senses are heightened. Suddenly the closeness of his body with mine is almost too much to bear. I’m overwhelmed by his musky, leathery scent, the warmth of his embrace, the calming rhythm of his heartbeats.

  I can hardly bring myself to admit that Chains is meant to be a villain. For all intents and purposes, I should shrink away from him, try to keep as much distance between us as possible. But he doesn’t feel like a bad guy. He feels like… well, like my prince charming.

  My Prince Chains.

  It’s a little unconventional, perhaps, but then again, there’s not one part of this experience that makes much sense to me anyway. I’m stuck here, trapped in limbo by my own father’s selfishness, so all I can do is cling to my handsome captor and hang on for the ride of my life.

  I feel him reach the top of the stairs, his steps moving over even ground now. He reaches out with one arm, the other still holding me up as easily as though I weigh nothing at all. I hear the click of a doorknob turning, then the soft creak of a door opening. Chains carries me into the room and shuts the door behind us. It’s dead silent in here, and I didn’t realize until right this second just how much ambient sound there was outside before— the breeze, the hum of some kind of building settling, the distant murmurings of men out of sight. But now this room is so quiet it almost makes me nervous.

  No. Scratch that. It definitely makes me nervous.

  It must be sound-proofed or something.

  My heart is pounding as Chains carries me across the room and starts to cradle me backward onto some soft surface. I balk for a moment, not wanting him to let go of me. I cling to his arms and let out a little whimper of fear.

  “You’re okay,” he assures me in that growly voice I’ve come to appreciate.

  And like magic, I believe him. I am okay.

  As he lays me down, I realize with a jolt of relief that this is a bed. A soft, surprisingly comfortable bed. I wonder again what sort of hideout this place is, to have both a rudimentary holding cell and a separate upstairs area with a comfy bed. But I don’t question it out loud. I’m too busy waiting for Chains to make his next move, to tell me what I should do.

  For a moment, I lie here alone, shivering slightly in the cool air. And then the bed creaks, the mattress gives a little as I feel Chains lean over me. I arch myself up slightly, hopelessly drawn to the delicious warmth his body puts off.

  I wonder for a second if he’s going to kiss me or something. But instead, I feel his hands touching my arms, then the sensation of icy-cold metal clink around my wrists. He grunts as he pulls me further up the bed toward what I assume is a headboard, and then he stretches out both of my arms and binds me to the posts on either side of me. My heart skips a beat as it dawns on me: I am handcuffed to a bed with a strange man looming over me.

  He has complete control, now more than ever before.

  I feel the tiniest prickle of fear, but beyond that, it’s only longing. Anticipation. I want to know what he plans to do with me now that I’m bound here.

  But to my dismay, he pushes away, getting off the bed. I feel the mattress rise again, my own weight barely making a dip. When I can no longer feel or smell Chains close by, I fuss a little, writhing around, trying to locate him.

  “Where are you? Where are you going?” I ask, totally disappointed.

  I hear the click of the door again and my heart sinks. He’s gone. He’s just bound me to the bed and abandoned me. I feel sick to my stomach. I know there are other men around here somewhere, including the one called Ryder who tried to come into the cell and… do whatever he had in mind to do to me. What if Chains is leaving me here for him? What if all along it’s just been a ploy, a ruse to make me trust him only so he could use it against me?

  “Chains?” I murmur fearfully, trying to sit up in the bed more. I hate that I can’t see anything. I wish I had some idea of the layout of the room. He doesn’t answer. I start to breathe faster, my heart racing with panic. I start squirming in my handcuffs, kicking my legs and struggling to find some way to get loose. But there’s nothing I can do. Chains has me trapped.

  “Chains! Please! Don’t leave me here, I’m scared!” I cry out in desperation.

  To my surprise, I hear his voice still close by. He’s still in the room.

  “Shhh. Take slow, calm breaths,” he urges me gently. “Come on. Slowly. In and out. You’re going to be just fine. I’m not leaving you here just yet, little girl.”

  I’m so relieved I could almost cry. Instead, I follow his instructions and take deep, measured breaths, over and over again until my heart has slowed down and my mind feels clear. But now, for some reason, I just can’t stop talking.

  “Chains,” I begin softly, “I just want… I want to understand this. Please. Why am I here? Why am I handcuffed to the bed? What do you plan to… do to me?”

  He stays silent, but I can feel his presence. Warm but warning.

  “This feels weird,” I admit. “I-I’ve never done anything like this before. It kind of hurts my wrists. Is it supposed to hurt? Did I do something wrong? Don’t you trust me? I have nowhere to run to. Nowhere to go. Besides, I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Shh. I know,” he replies, but doesn’t lay a hand on me. I find myself desperate, craving his touch as though it’s the only thing that can set me free.

  “Shouldn’t you… shouldn’t you take off my shoes? Daddy said it’s disgusting to have muddy shoes on the bedspread,” I ramble, blushing. “I don’t want to ruin the sheets.”

  Chains is silent again. I have a feeling this is some kind of test. He’s pushing me. Trying to see how far I can bend before I break. He’s looking for an answer, and
I think I know how to give it to him.

  Tentatively, I murmur, “If you’re doing this because you want to see how I react to being out of control and the mercy of somebody else, well, here’s your answer. I’m nervous. But I-I can’t deny how I feel, Chains. I like it. I like when you’re in control.”

  “Ah, yes. That’s my good girl,” he responds in a low growl that sends a thrill down my spine. I very nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his hands rubbing their way down my legs, from my knees to my calves down to my feet. He slowly takes off my shoes and drops them over the side of the bed. I groan with pleasure and surprise as he begins to massage my aching, tired feet. His thumbs press rhythmic circles into my sore insteps, then slides up and down, his fingers expertly massaging the pain away.

  I let out a sigh of pleasure. I have never felt so pampered and special before. Nobody has ever touched my feet like this.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions, Lila,” he says evenly. “Answer truthfully and you will be rewarded. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I answer eagerly.

  “Good girl. Now, have you ever been kissed?” he asks.

  I clam up for a moment, afraid to be honest. Chains stops rubbing my feet. I moan with disappointment but he doesn’t give in. Finally, I confess, “No. Never.”

  “Excellent,” he says, his hands returning to my feet. I smile, easing into the pleasure. “Has a man ever touched your body and made you feel good?”

  “I-I don’t understand,” I say meekly.

  “Yes, you do. Come on, Lila. Think about it,” he says, his hands leaving my feet.

  I sigh, feeling embarrassed beyond belief, but I answer quietly, “No. I-I’m still a virgin. Daddy always told me I had to hold onto my purity.”

  “Your Daddy lied to you about a lot of things,” Chains says sagely. “Do you know that?”

  I nod sadly. “Yes. I’m realizing it now.”

  His hands rove up around my ankles, inching farther up my legs slowly, teasingly.

  “Smart girl,” he compliments me. “I’m sorry you had to learn it the hard way.”

  “Me too,” I admit. “But Chains… please don’t leave me again.”

  “Why?” he asks bluntly.

  When I don’t immediately answer, he withdraws his hands.

  I can’t stand it. I need him to keep touching me. So I blurt out, “Because I have never felt this good before and I can’t stand it when you leave me alone. I want you to keep touching me. I have never had a boyfriend, not even close, and this is the first time in my life that I feel— the things I feel when you’re near me. And it’s stupid. I know it is. I should be afraid of you. I shouldn’t want to be around a bad boy like you. Chains, you’re dangerous and you’re mysterious and you scare the hell out of me, but I can’t resist you. My body aches for you when you’re gone. Please, just give me what I need. I beg you.”

  “You don’t even know what you need, do you?” he asks, almost curiously.

  I shake my head, tears dampening the blindfold.

  “No. I have no idea. All I know is that I have needs and I don’t understand them,” I say.

  “Then maybe what you need is someone who does understand,” Chains purrs. “Someone who can give you what it is you need so badly.”

  “Yes,” I murmur, every nerve in my body on fire. “Please.”

  His hand slides up between my thighs to gently stroke my cunny through the fabric of my yoga pants and I whimper with desire, shocked by the incredible rush I get just from that delicate touch. He begins to massage my clit slowly and I tilt my head back, moaning.

  Yes. That. I need exactly that.

  Chains

  This is forbidden territory. Way beyond forbidden. It’s is wrong in every conceivable way.

  But Lila wants this, and I’m pushing on ahead without a moment of hesitation.

  My hand strokes her warm, tight pussy through her yoga pants, and it feels better than I ever imagined it possibly could be. I can sense all the stress and pain in her life wound up like a tight knot inside her, and that warm pussy I feel through the thin fabric is the gateway to relieving it.

  Part of me wants to tell myself this is for her stress relief, not for me.

  That would be a lie.

  I’ve been attracted to her from the moment I saw her. From the first nights I spent watching her sleep in her room, I wanted that body pressed up against mine, pinned against a wall, letting me take every little thing I want from it. I’ve wanted to slide my hand against that tight pussy and so much more the whole time she’s been with me.

  I want her.

  I want this.

  And now that she’s given me permission, I’m going to take everything I damn well please from this good little girl.

  She lets out a moan as my fingers brush dangerously close to her clit. I like that sound, so I reward her for it. When she moans, I let my strokes get firmer, more invasive, and it doesn’t take her long to realize how to get positive reinforcement from me.

  “That’s a good girl,” I whisper in a dark, husky tone. “You’re clever. Good at catching on. Do you like this?”

  Her mouth hangs open, and she gently nods her head. It’s such a faint, scarce movement that I can barely tell she’s nodding.

  “No no,” I growl, slowing my hand down. “Use your words. How does this feel, little girl?”

  “It feels…” she starts, losing her voice as I start to reward her for listening.

  “Hm? I can’t hear you. Speak up, girl.”

  “It feels good,” she breathes in a voice absolutely laden with shame and relief mixed together.

  It must feel like a breathtaking relief to get such a dark, dirty confession off her lips, but it’s not enough for me. I want this girl to squirm like she’s never squirmed before.

  “Tell me what feels good,” I demand, pushing my fingers so deep I can feel her lips sliding around my fingers, wishing there weren’t that thin black fabric between us.

  “It feels good when you touch me like this,” she whimpers with a desperate edge to her voice.

  With the blindfold on, most of her face that I can see is her pretty mouth hanging open, begging to be kissed. She starts to push her hips up against my fingers, trying to get me to touch more of her, but I chuckle and draw my hand away whenever she does, leaving her desperate for more each time.

  “Greedy,” I chide her gently. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to ask for more than you’re given?”

  “I… I want more,” she breathes with a soft whine to her voice that makes my bulging cock throb in my pants.

  “That’s filthy,” I growl, teasing her. “You should be ashamed of yourself for getting so greedy.”

  “Please,” she gasps, and I can tell by her face that her eyes are clenched tight. “I need this so badly.”

  “Do you? Just what do you need, girl?” I growl, bringing my face so close to hers that she can feel my breath.

  “I want to feel more of you,” she says. “I can tell you want this… don’t you?”

  “I should punish you for being so bold,” I say in a dark chuckle, looming over her as I massage her pussy and feel her hips squirming desperately under me. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” she whimpers immediately, and how promptly she let those words slip from her soft, full lips gets me so keyed up I can barely contain myself. My cock throbs in response.

  “You’re just begging to give yourself up to me, aren’t you?”

  “That night I slept against you,” she says in such a shaky voice that I worry she’s going to faint. “When I was holding you, I…I…I was dreaming about you. About you taking me. Doing everything you want.”

  “That’s a very good girl,” I growl, bringing my mouth right up against her ear, letting my beard tickle her shoulder as I whisper directly into her. “Because I want everything.”

  I decide it’s time to reward my little girl for being so good and obedient. I slide my
hand away from her pussy, and she gives a pathetic little whimper of desperation. She makes it sound like I’ve wronged her by taking my hand away, and from her perspective, I know why.

  She doesn’t know what I’m about to do to her.

  “You’ve been very good,” I say as I move my knees down her body, and I run my hands slowly down her sides to her pants. “You’re a greedy little girl, but you’ve been good for me. You deserve a reward.”

  “Reward?” she breathes with that hungry edge that makes my fierce heart pound against my rugged chest.

  In response, I take hold of her pants and slowly start to pull them down. As I do, I watch her face get as red as a cherry, and she bites her lip so hard I worry she’ll draw blood.

  “What’s the matter, girl? Worried about what I’m going to do?”

  “I- I trust you…” she stammers, and I chuckle at how innocent it sounds. “But nobody’s ever touched— seen that part of me.”

  “Good,” I growl, stroking her bare thighs and giving them a hungry squeeze. “You saved yourself just for me.”

  She shudders in pleasure between my words and the way my rough hands stroke her thighs. She’s more smooth and soft than I imagined, and I let out a rumbling growl from my chest as I bring my face down to her pussy. I let out a breath to let her know I’m there, and I hear a gasp from her lips— a sharp cry of surprise.

  “Do you want this, you greedy little thing?” I rumble. “I need to hear it.”

  “I…don’t know how to…”

  “Don’t be a brat. Yes you do. Be good for me one more time.”

  “Please…!”

  “Lila,” I tease, letting the last syllable trail off on my lips.

  “I- I want you to use your mouth,” she whimpers.

  “Where?”

  I’m being cruel at this point, eking every bit of sinful obedience I can out of pure, innocent girl I’ve snatched out of her home.

  “I want you to use your mouth on my…down there,” she finishes.