Page 92 of Captured Heart

It’s another warning I don’t heed as I tug the strings loose.

“Stop.” He tries to sound firm, but his voice cracks, the raw edge of emotion bleeding through.

I feel his fists clench behind me as he fights himself, fights me. But it’s a losing battle. His arms are looped around me, so he has very few options to get me off him. He can’t do it without hurting me, which means he won’t do a damn thing. And knowing I have this advantage over him is an absolute thrill.

I’m high on power now, drunk with desire, intoxicated by the control I have over him. He probably felt just like this that night he had me handcuffed to the bed. Now I understand why he loved seeing me so helpless and completely at his mercy. It’s exhilarating.

When I stepped onto the prison grounds today, this wasn’t my intention. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. But I haven’t felt the warmth of his body in six weeks, and now the yearning to be closer to him is overwhelming, insatiable.

I press my lips to his cheek, testing his resolve, and he turns his head to avoid the contact. He tenses beneath me when my hand slips beneath his waistband, his breath coming out in quick, shallow bursts. He groans when I wrap my fingers around his cock, and there’s something so sexy about that sound. It’s soft and restrained, like it’s taking everything in him not to flip me onto this table.

“Tell me again that you don’t want me,” I whisper, tightening my grip around his shaft. “Tell me you don’t care. Tell me exactly how you feel about me.”

“Right now...” His eyes lock on mine, blazing with frustration, anger, and unadulterated lust. “I fucking hate you.”

I smile, not even offended by the harsh remarks. In fact, it spurs me on even more. I take a second to tug his pants down lower. His cock springs free, hard and ready for me. His thickness fills my hand again as I lean closer, but he turns away before I kiss him. It’s unclear why he’s still resisting when we both know it’s pointless.

I kiss my way along his jaw instead, my lips brushing against the stubble that scratches my skin. My hand moves faster, and his head drops against my shoulder. Fevered breaths fill the space between us, and he becomes more flustered with every rapid stroke. His entire body stiffens, the tension in him coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Muscles taut. Hands clenched. He wants me so bad he’s shaking.

I realize how similar we are because I, too, am not above using this weakness against him. It’s at this moment, when he’s desperate and needy, that I dip my head and lightly skim the edges of his mouth with my tongue. He freezes for a heartbeat, his body rigid beneath me.

I shift, lifting my skirt another inch to press closer against him. I’m not sure if it’s the softness of my thighs against his forearm or the dampness of my silk panties that sends this man over the edge, but he flies off the rails faster than a bullet train going at full speed.

His mouth crashes against mine, fierce and ravenous. His kiss is wild, feral, an eruption of all his anger and frustration.

“Fuck it,” he rasps. “You win.”

His teeth graze my bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth. His bound hands are clumsy as he tries to grip my hipsas tightly as they can. My nails rake over his scalp, holding him to me like he’s the air I need to breathe. My lips burn under his, the heat of him igniting something deep inside me.

A hot mouth trails down my neck, biting, sucking, leaving a searing path of sensation. His hips buck up, his tip impatiently seeking entry.

“Now,” he orders. “I want to fuck you right now.”

I’ve never considered myself petty or vengeful but hearing that unlocks a side of me I didn’t know existed. “Ask me nicely.”

His eyes narrow, and he grits his teeth, hating every second before he submits and gives me what I want. “Please...” His face scrunches as if the word is so bitter it burns his tongue. “...let me make sweet, sweet love to you.”

The sarcasm in that statement draws a giggle out of me. My hand moves down between us and sneaks beneath my skirt. I shift my panties to the side, and he groans when he feels my moisture coating his tip.

I rub against him, taunting him, teasing him until he asks for more. But he doesn’t ask. He just takes what he wants. His bound hands yank me against him, the chains rattling as he forces himself inside me.

He smirks, a mixture of his indignation and the satisfaction of seeing the shock on my face. “I don’t ask twice.”

I shift my hips, trying to adjust to his girth. “You smile now?”

That adorable smile widens, but it’s still laced with an ample amount of frustration. “God, you drive me...insane.”

He nudges my hips, and they begin to rock against him. Thick and hard, he hits that sweet spot deep inside me.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

It’s another order, and in my haze of ecstasy, I can’t find the will to argue. My hands are frantic as I undo the buttons, and the sight of my breasts bouncing turns him on in a way I haven’t seen before.

His hands clasp around my back, and he pulls me closer. His hot mouth trails down my neck, his teeth scraping along the curve of my shoulder, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. A guttural sound echoes in his throat, the sound vibrating against my collarbone as his lips press there, firm and insistent.

I tilt my head back, giving him more access, and he takes it, his lips moving hungrily over every inch of my exposed skin. My pulse pounds beneath his mouth, and I gyrate my hips before hitting harder against him.

The way his cock moves inside me feels electric, crackling through me like a live wire. I chase my own pleasure, the chair lightly screeching against the floor as the urgency builds within us. My fingers trail down his jaw, over the faint stubble that scratches my skin, before sliding down to his chest. I can feel his heart pounding beneath my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

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