Page 24 of Taking

Hollow-sounding breathing like one would make through a mask reached my ears.

A scrape, like a shoe scuffing on flooring.

My skin pebbled again as though he watched me. Studied me. Same as Gideon had always done. Wanting.

“Don’t look at me,” I whispered at the captor I feared to be Lloyd without meaning to voice my weak thoughts. My breath grew ragged at knowing how my body would react. Don’t look at me—don’t want me. Please.

The warmth between my thighs intensified, and I swallowed hard against renewed tears. I could control my mind, my panic—but not my damn body.

So sick.

Lloyd’s fault.

I focused on that truth and blamed him for my body’s unwanted reaction. Fantasies of my youth had been just that—fantasy. No sane or normal person really wished to be kidnapped, tied up, and used.

His fault.

Memories of his touch, his taking, caused heat to rise in my belly, the kind that demanded I scream and attempt to break free. Fight to defend an innocence already stolen. More adrenaline released regardless of my struggle to remain strong and calm, and I pulled against my restraints.

No, no, no…

My breath caught on a sob as I wrenched my arms, desperate to break my bonds.

The pain in my joints and futility of my movements only intensified my anger and fear, my muscles quivering uncontrollably.

“Let me go!” I shrieked, yanking and thrashing, all trace of aches in my body fading in the need to escape. “Let me go!”

Tightness grew in my chest until I gasped for air, my movements jerky. Lessening as darkness crept in my periphery.

My ragged inhales echoed in my ears along with the steady thumps of my heartbeat. Guess I didn’t have as great control as I’d thought.

I’m dying…oh god, I’m dying…

10

Gideon

She fought like a wildcat, her growing panic making my dick hard. Her shrieks caused blood to rush through my veins, and I gripped the chair’s arms where I sat on the opposite side of the cabin’s lone bedroom so I wouldn’t grab my throbbing length.

Pre-cum oozed from my slit, smearing inside my jeans, and still, I didn’t touch myself.

I fucking gloried in watching the little bitch gasp for oxygen and tremble with fear over the reality of what she’d fantasized about as a teenager.

The quilt I’d covered her with lay askew, and the T-shirt rose up her spread thighs, revealing the thatch of blonde hair at her core and the pink petals of her pussy…

Fuck.

Mouth drooling, I studied how she shivered, how her muscles quivered. Her tits jiggled with every attempt at escape.

I stared, soaking in her cries. Getting off on her weakness of being at my mercy. While I could have gone with zip ties to bind her, I wasn’t ready yet for blood. Soft hemp rope tied her ankles and wrists to the lone bed, allowing her as much comfort as possible in her situation.

But not me.

My groin ached, and inside the gas mask with its mesh holes for the eyes and mouth, my breathing heightened, making me sound like a real-life Darth Vader. Jaw clenched, I sat like a statue, sucking oxygen through my flared nostrils. I was tensed tight as fuck down to my marrow, the pain, the lust to take from her all-consuming.

The need for something beyond my hand—fucking six years’ worth—drew my balls up, ready to explode.

But my self-control held. Minutes ticked by.

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