Page 91 of The Freedom in Captivity

His thumb passes over my clit and I moan again.

“Fighting so hard, aren’t you. Fighting as well as any slut does.”

“Fuck off. Go away, Flynn.” It’s breathless and without an ounce of menace behind the words, making the entire command useless and pathetic.

“Go away?” he repeats, phrasing it as a question. “Why would I do that when your wet, tight pussy continues to disrupt my life? Maybe if I fuck you hard enough, you’ll get the hint to leave me the hell alone.”

“One last fuck and then we’re done.” I manage to turn my head enough to catch his hateful, shadowy gaze. “Is that what ends this?”

No answer. His teeth bare and I hate how my pussy clenches around his fingers with the sight.

“So tired of your mouth, Rozelyn. One more word and I’ll find another use for it.”

Try me.Thatalmostgets said aloud.Almost.

He removes his fingers, leaving me empty and needy, my core clenching around nothing. He stops holding me entirely and finishes removing his clothing. I’m freed from his grasp, which means escape just got easier.

But he still has a tight, firm grip on me.

On my useless heart.

So I don’t move an inch.

He doesn’t comment, but we’re both aware I could have used the moment to escape.

The head of his cock replaces where his fingers were and he strokes himself against me, transferring my cum over his length.

“You fight so hard, Rozelyn. So pathetically hard, all to end up with your legs spread and your pussy ready to take my cock.” He pauses speakingandstroking, and his next words aren’t spoken with a drunken slur or even a malicious darkness. “One final chance,mon soleil.One brief second to crawl across this bed and escape and I will let you go. Or remain right where you are.”

He’s giving me an out. A reprieve from his vengeance. Maybe the alcohol’s begun wearing off and he’s emerging from the drunken fog.

I don’t move.

He thrusts inside me.

Our cries mingle, each of us shutting up when remembering how easy it’d be to get caught. He reaches between us and strums my sensitive clit, and grabs my wrists again in one hand, pinning them until I have no further control. I’m his to fuck, to claim, to do whatever he wants to me.

With my next moan, I shove my face into the bed to muffle the noise.

“Let me hear you, Rozelyn.”

Is this supposed to be a test of restraint? I turn my head, so I’m still partially muffled by the bed.

His cock glides through my wet core easily, his piercing hitting the end. His finger against my clit moves faster. There’s so much happening to my body at this second, so much for my erratic mind to make sense of, except all I feel is him. His length claiming me—re-claiming me, since he already owned me once, still, and again.

“I’m going to come, Flynn.” It won’t be much longer, not like this.

His thrusts quicken and the second my pussy tightens, he releases my wrists, leans over my back, and grasps my chin, angling my head back to him, to take my lips. He kisses me roughly, swallowing my cries as the orgasm eradicates my body. His own groan is imprinted upon my lips, a sound I’ll feel and taste forever.

When he comes, it’s with a single statement.“Mon soleil.Ma raison d’être.”

My sun. My reason for being.

Flynn

After the gym, I ended up at one of the Corsetti-owned bars and based on the looks the bartenders continuously sent my way, everyone knew something was wrong. The last time I stepped foot into one of these places was… almost never. Probably long before any of them were hired. I’m a horrible drinker, unable to stop at one, so I avoid the habit altogether.

I retained enough sense to stop after a few since passed out at a bar isn’t my ideal night. The drive home on my bike was slower and blurrier than I’d prefer, but I managed, although I don’t recall parking it in the garage.

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