Page 11 of Come Fill Me

Her own beat crazily. She studied Zeke’s face and chest.

“Is he healed?” Carreon asked.

No. He still hadn’t breathed deeply or opened his eyes. She detected no improvement in his heartbeat. Was he actually fighting her?

“Is he?” Carreon demanded.

“Not yet,” Liz said, knowing very well he may never be, and because of it, her father would pay.

Determined that wouldn’t happen, she stepped away from the bed. Before Carreon could ask what she was doing, Liz removed her right heel, dropping it on the floor.

At its solid thunk, Carreon didn’t even blink.

Her left heel followed. With her attention on Zeke’s pecs and biceps, Liz eased her skirt past her hips and down her thighs. The garment fell to the floor with a faint rustling sound. Stepping out of it, she propped her foot on the mattress to remove her right stocking. Cool air brushed her naked ass. She’d worn a thong as she always did, having grown used to it from when she’d been Carreon’s lover, forever prepared to have his hands on her, her body available to his touch. Her garter belt and stockings were also from those days, as was her continued use of an IUD so she’d never bring an innocent into the sorry world Carreon and his kind had created.

With her buttocks facing two of her captors, she unsnapped the front and side garter then slipped her hands beneath the beige hose, coaxing it to her ankle and off, dropping it near the bedpost.

When her remaining stocking was also on the floor, she stepped away from the bed, working the pearl buttons on her blouse. Her fingers continued to tremble, prolonging the effort. After what seemed a great while, she slid the garment off her shoulders, revealing her bra. Its snug fit forced her breasts upward until they nearly spilled from the lacy white cups.

As it was, her nipples grazed the edge of the fabric, making Liz feel more naked than if she’d undressed completely.

Her vulnerability wasn’t lost on Carreon and his men. They’d grown silent in the last few moments, not clearing their throats or shifting in their chairs.

Liz had no desire to see their expressions.

Dropping her blouse on the floor, she kept her attention on Zeke. Against the frosty white pillowcase, his shoulder-lengthhair was the color of pitch, thick and shiny.

She imagined a woman’s fingers, no—her fingers—combing those midnight strands, taming them but not him. He’d work his hands through her hair, using it to anchor her so he could claim her mouth, refusing to finish their kiss until they were both restless for more. Him owning her body, exploring all of her curves, every orifice, each intimate part, making her cry out in delight.

Zeke Neekoma would deliver pleasure. Liz had no doubt of that.

Animal wanting raged in her blood, warming her flesh even as reality intruded. Freed from their lace prison, her naked nipples puckered at the coolish air and the thought of Carreon and his men watching.

Liz found it difficult to breathe. Her limbs were weighted, sluggish. The bra slipped from her fingers. Seconds after it hit the floor, Liz heard one of the men leave his chair to grab it.

She sensed it was the one who’d once mounted her.

Continuing, she removed her garter belt then slipped her thumbs beneath her thong’s elastic, sliding it over her hips to her thighs. The satin crotch, damp from her arousal, resisted briefly. The moment she freed it, Liz smelled her own musk.

Her body alternately weakened with yearning and stiffened, attempting to resist. She had no idea what kind of man Zeke was. Nor did it matter. By daybreak, Carreon would have the information he needed, his inhumane tactics assuring it, and Zeke would be dead at last. This time tortured beyond repair.

Surprising tears welled in her eyes. Liz dismissed them, resolved to do whatever she must to save her father. Dropping her thong on the floor, she padded to the side of the bed.

From her peripheral vision, she saw the tallest of Carreon’s men snatching her panties, delivering them to his boss. With the delicate garment pressed to his face, Carreon inhaled deeply.

The sound he made heightened Liz’s sense of exposure.

Coolish air glanced off her nipples, constricting them, then drifted lower to her cunt, wet with stubborn desire.

She climbed onto the mattress and straddled Zeke, unfolding her body over his, her breasts crushed against his chest, her pussy on his cock, her healing force and heat seeping into him, leaving her weak.

Heal,her thoughts pleaded, hating herself for wanting it, but there was no other choice. It was either his life sacrificed or her father’s.

She bit back an anguished moan, recalling the last time she’d seen him. His eyes had been wide with terror as Carreon’s lieutenants hauled him back to his room, not allowing him to embrace her. She’d cried out for him. She’d cursed Carreon.

In the end, she’d obeyed. Healing thugs who should have continued their journeys to hell, who were a scourge to her people and Zeke’s.

On her elbows, Liz inclined her head to Zeke. A lock of her hair brushed his cheek; her breath skipped over his beautiful mouth; his lips upturned in a seemingly tender smile.

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