Page 51 of Taken By the Convicts
“Quiet, Jayce,” she whispered as she pushed a few cans around. She was sure she’d seen the potatoes in here yesterday, and there’d been several cans.
When she stretched further, warm fingers began caressing her lower back. Jayce had magic fingers. A definite point in his favor. And he seemed flirty today, not angry.
Was this part of his seduction, or was the real Jayce finally revealing himself? She’d accept either right now. Anything was better than the angry man who talked to her as if she was nothing but three holes to fuck.
“Stop that.” Melina surprised herself by giggling and shaking her ass to drive his hand away, except that only encouraged him.
His hand glided along her ribs to her front and caressed the side of her breast. She pressed her thighs together as he played with her very taut nipple. Pleasure rolled through her body to her core. She wasn’t sure she could resist him much longer, not if he continued touching her like this because damn, his touch felt so good.
Namir had done this to her. Made her so starved for a gentle touch that she’d even let Jayce fuck her if he continued touching her like that.
“Jayce,” she tried to warn him off, but instead, sounded all needy, like she wanted him to continue. Goddess help her, she did.
His hand slipped into her pants and gently brushed over her thatch. Without him coaxing her, she spread her legs for him, giving him access. His fingers slid into her folds.
“So wet for me,” he whispered in her ear as he stroked her. She ground against his hand, in desperate need of release after he’d left her last night.
Chairs scraped the floor, jarring both of them. She turned, Jayce’s hand still on her pussy.
Reece! How could she have forgotten he was still there, watching them?
Melina pushed past Jayce, chasing after Reece. “Reece, stop!” she yelled, but he ran up the stairs, taking them two, even three at a time. He pounded his wrist against the access panel. She’d never reach him in time.
The door snapped open and Reece disappeared into a field of white. The door almost closed when a burst of wind flung it open. Melina caught the door and her chance at freedom.
Chapter Thirteen
MELINA
Awhiteout blanketed the area, with heavy snowflakes falling so fast they clung to Melina’s eyelashes. She blinked the snow away, squinting as she strained to see any sign of Reece. The cold sliced through her, making it hard to focus. She’d shot out of the bunker, hoping to catch Reece, to apologize to him. The door had shut behind her, leaving her trapped in the storm without a coat. When she raised her wrist to the id plate, it didn’t grant her access. Pounding on the door did nothing. No one opened it; they were too far down in the bunker.
There, a few hundred feet ahead, she swore she’d seen a blur of blue. “Reece!” she shouted, hoping her voice would carry despite the blustering winds. The figure was getting smaller with each second. He’d never hear her in the storm, but she had to reach him. She wouldn’t last long out here, especially with the temperature dropping.
Melina broke into a run. “Reece,” she yelled again. The entire area was white. She couldn’t see anything, and she’d lost her sense of direction. She couldn’t tell if she was five feet or five hundred feet from the bunker.
Cold infused her body, stiffening limbs and stinging her lungs. Every step became harder and harder, but she kept moving. Stopping meant sure death. Picturing the angry look on Reece’s face helped. She couldn’t die out here. Reece needed to know how she felt about him.
“Reece!” she shouted one last time.
The wind howled, mocking her and her feeble attempt to make things right with Reece.
Melina tripped and went down on her hands and knees. She felt something soft and warm beneath the snow. She pulled it up. An arm. Reece! She dug furiously, clearing the snow, only to find dead eyes staring up at her. Relief swept through her; it wasn’t Reece. Whoever he was, he’d died recently. From the red snow beneath his head, frostbite hasn’t been the cause of death.
A pair of boots appeared in front of her. She lifted her head to the sight of a tall, burly man wearing a long coat. He didn’t bother with a hat or scarf but maintained a beard she’d seen before. He was one of the men who had pulled her from the hole. A second man, as equally large and terrifying as the first, hauled her to her feet and tossed her over his shoulder.
The wind sliced through her as he started walking. There was no escape, and she was too frozen to do anything but press herself against the male, hoping to steal some of his heat.
They said nothing, or if they did, she didn’t hear it in the storm. Her mind raced as they carried her into a cave not far from where they’d caught her. A light flickered in the back. They had a fire going and a pile of furs. When the second man set her down, she nearly crumpled to the ground. She was so cold. She tried heading to the fire, but the bearded guy tore her shirt off and ran his hand over a breast.
She closed her eyes, seeking that meadow by her house, the one with the stream where she and her brothers liked to fish.
“She’s cold as ice, Finch,” Bearded Guy said.
“Move aside. I’ll warm her up.”
He shoved her to the ground and planted a boot on her chest as he unzipped his pants and fisted himself. She tried to shove his boot off. She couldn’t breathe.
“Lucas, hold her down.”
