Page 124 of Cruel Riches

24

Alexis

I closed my eyes,losing myself in the sensation as Nate’s hips ground into mine, driving himself deeper inside me. My fingernails dug into his back and sweat rolled down my forehead, dripping over my brows.

“Harder,” I panted, eager for more of Nate’s fierce touch. “Oh, fuck…”

It had been ten days since my aborted escape attempt, and I hadn’t left the bomb shelter again. Every night, Nate came down to visit me under the pretense of delivering more bottles of water or food, and every single time, we ended up on one of the bunks, naked and screwing each other’s brains out.

He never said a word to me. I didn’t say anything either, but I knew what he wanted every time. Our gazes would lock, and in one look, we’d silently say everything we needed to each other. Then we’d pounce on each other and strip our clothes away in rough, frantic movements, as if we were lovers finally reunited after months apart, unable to bear another second without the other’s body.

I was vulnerable to Nate in a way that was both excruciating and thrilling. It wasn’t regular lust or attraction, and it certainly wasn’t love. It was something fucked up, something toxic. Something that would kill me if I didn’t get away from it as fast as possible.

But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t drag myself away from the brutal kisses and vicious strokes that tied my stomach into knots. Couldn’t tamp down the desperate need that flooded through me every time I saw him.

I knew I was going to die down here at some point anyway, so I figured I might as well eke as much pleasure as I could out of these final days or weeks. It beat sitting around being miserable, and in terms of physical punishment—which was what Nate viewed our sex as—it was a lot better than the alternatives.

It also didn’t hurt that he was the best sex I’d ever had, as much as I hated to admit that.

As heat curled through me, starting at my toes, I opened my eyes and used all my strength to push Nate off me before crawling on top of him and placing my hands on his shoulders.

I needed him to look up at me and see the stark, unbridled desire in my gaze. See what he’d turned me into—a ravenous mess of a girl who wanted nothing more than to let herself be used as a toy. It made me feel powerless and powerful at the same time, and that seemingly impossible combination was intoxicating. Addictive.

I rocked back and forth on Nate, gasping and whimpering, and his hands gripped my hips, fingertips roughly digging into me. Three muttered words left his lips, barely audible over my loud panting. “Come for me.”

I fell apart right away, eyes scrunching shut again as bliss rocketed through me, making me scream. Nate groaned and tensed up, pumping inside me harder from below until his face contorted and warmth exploded inside me.

I collapsed face-first onto his chest to catch my breath. Then I rolled off and lay next to him, one hand reaching upward to mop the perspiration dotting my forehead.

It was time for the shame.

Like clockwork, that same old humiliated heat would rise inside me every time the pleasure started to fade. Regret would set in soon after, and I’d find myself asking the same questions over and over. Why? Why was I doing this to myself?

Then, like the messy, pain-addicted fool I was, I’d run straight back into Nate’s arms as soon as his footsteps echoed in that corridor again.

My breathing steadied, and I turned my head slightly so I could sneak a glance at him. He usually got dressed and left without a word as soon as we were done, but a couple of times he’d stayed next to me and fallen asleep, squished right next to me in the narrow bunk like we were lovers on a camping trip.

When he did that, it was easy to pretend there was something real between us. Easy to look over at him and pretend he was nothing more than a hot boyfriend who gave me the most powerful orgasms of my life. Not a captor. Not a guy who planned to murder me in cold blood one day.

Just Nate.

Right now, I had no idea if he was going to fall asleep next to me again. His eyes were closed, but I could tell by his tense muscles and controlled breaths that he was still wide awake. Probably questioning himself and feeling the exact same sense of shame and disgrace as me.

I knew there was a silent battle raging inside him. He wanted me in the same twisted, fucked up way that I wanted him—otherwise he wouldn’t come here every night—but he was resisting it as hard as he could. It never worked, though. He fell for the shameful attraction every time, and then he was forced to lie there and count his sins, wondering why he couldn’t say no to the girl he claimed to hate more than anything.

It was torturing him just as much as it was torturing me.

With a soft sigh, I turned my head away and closed my eyes, settling my head into the pillow so I could prepare myself for another idyllic fantasy where Nate and I were a happy couple on a trip together. Tonight, I could pretend we were on an island together, sleeping in a small but cozy hut on the beach as strains of music echoed from a party somewhere nearby. The party would have tiki torches, dancing, and overflowing drinks, and the music would be smooth and mellow.

Just like the song Nate was softly humming right now.

A ghost of a smile curled up my lips as I started to hum along with the tune. Then my eyes snapped open, and I sat up straight. Nate wasn’t humming. The music was playing again, drifting into the bunker from the storage cupboard six feet away.

I sprang up from the bed and crept closer to the cupboard to confirm what I was hearing. Then I hurried back over to the bed and tapped Nate on the chest.

“Are you awake?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t blow up at me for touching him when we weren’t having sex.

His eyes opened. “Yes,” he muttered, sitting up slightly.

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