Page 61 of Prisoner of War
Her bound hands were a reminder of that morning. She recalled being bent over the bed and her breath caught.
He lowered her hands to the mattress and they were pinned there by his hand on the chain, bending her over once more. There was a tugging on the chain and his hand lifted away. She tried to sit up and discoveredthat he had hooked the chain to both the head and foot of the bed, keeping her hands pinned to the mattress between the taut chain. It left both his hands free.
“If I didn’t know better, I might think that you enjoyed the lesson I gave you this morning,” he said.
She shuddered.
“Hm... Shall I repeat the lesson? Or teach you a new one?”
“Either way, you’re still an animal,” she hissed.
Hislong fingers brushed at her wrists, probing the chains and she realized he was checking to make sure the chains were not too tight and did not cut into her flesh—just enough to hold her and no more.
His fingers stroked her forearms, trailed up to her shoulders. In the dark she could see him rise before her, blocking the moonlight from the window. He remained silent until his fingers found herface and gently lifted her chin. If there had been enough light, she could have looked at his face. He leaned toward her, so close that she could feel his heat on her face.
“It is your turn to take,” he whispered. “Pretend your soldier has returned once more. Pretend he could not stay away from you.”
“How can I take if you’re the one who is free?” she shot back, tugging on the chains.
He wasmoving around her, moving behind her. She stiffened, waiting for the tug on her feet that would bring her to that mortifying position bent face-down over the bed. But the tug did not come.
Instead, his hands stroked her with shocking gentleness. She shuddered in reaction.
“You understand perfectly,” he whispered back. “I knew you would.” His fingers continued to play, to tweak and coax fromher the responses he sought.
He was right. She did understand how it was she could take from him. She merely had to reach for her own pleasure and indulge herself as she had last night.
He used nothing but his hands on her. They roamed across every available inch, stroking, teasing, nudging. Her toes were not spared, nor was her head. As his fingers buried themselves in her hair, they movedwith firmness and banished tension there before moving down to her shoulders to knead and loosen the muscles. But the kneading evolved into stroking, to the lightest teasing that drifted over the surface of her flesh. It was light. She felt nothing but the heat of his touch. Minnie arched in reaction.
He sensed her submission.
She felt tugging at her wrists, the clink of the chain and her handswere free.
“Now, you take,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes. That was Duardo—the old Duardo, using the odd constructions that Duardo had once used, rather than grammatically perfect English.
The memory tore through her, bringing powerful arousal with it. Minnie shuddered as Zalaya had his way with her and when he was done, she fell forward, all the strength draining from her. She sprawledacross the bed.
He followed her down. She heard the chain rattle as it slithered to the floor on the other side and didn’t care. Her whole body quivered and nerve endings zapped with little hitches and spurts.
“Duardo,” she sighed.
He froze. “Duardo?” he repeated. She felt him move, so he was next to her again. “This is your soldier? Duardo?”
The microphone...she had forgotten about the damnmicrophone. Duardo had not. He was reacting as Zalaya would.
She winced. How to cover this up? How to keep Duardo safe from discovery?
“Don’t speak his name, animal,” she said hotly. “It sounds foul on your lips.” And her fear was so thick and hot in her chest that she wept with it. Had she made the mistake that would kill him? Again?
The thought made her cry harder.
His hand touched her shoulder,curled around her waist and she was pulled up against his hard chest. The whole hot length of him cradled her from behind. Gently, he stroked her cheek, wiping away the tears. “Your tears are wasted,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “Your soldier, your Duardo, would have understood the choices you have made here.”
She turned her face into his chest, her fear undiminished.
