“I’m awake now,” he retorts.
“And you’re drunk.”
“So?”
He spoke so much with that single word. So what if we barely know each other? So what if he’s drunk? So what if I regret it tomorrow? Why shouldn’t I take this opportunity, tempting as it is, and make the most of tonight?
Because deep down, I know I’m not the sort of girl who indulges in one-night stands. I’m attracted to Stone, but I won’t act on it. Not tonight. “I need you to drive me home,” I say in a small voice, avoiding his eyes as his fingers continue to make lazy circles across my skin.
“Stay.”
My eyes dart up, my mouth open slightly in shock, and he takes advantage of it. Slanting his head, Stone covers my mouth with his own, his tongue probing, searching. It takes just seconds for me to respond, wrapping my arms around his neck as I moan into his mouth. He deepens the kiss, his fingers digging into my soft flesh as I feel his cock harden through his jeans, pressing between my legs. The seam of the denim is in the perfect position, and I rock myself back and forth a few times, feeling a delicious pull low in my stomach. He growls as he grabs my hips, pushing me up so that the edge of my ass rests on the dashboard in front of him, my legs on either side of his head. It’s an awkward position, and I have to lean my back against the cold glass of the windshield, ducking my head down a little. He scoots forward and places a soft kiss against my knee, his fingertips trailing along the sensitive skin of my calf. My breath hitches as he raises his darkened eyes to mine.
“Are these your favorite panties?” he asks, his hand sliding higher to finger the lacy thong I’m wearing beneath the mini skirt.
“N-no,” I stammer, my breath harsh in the quiet car. I gasp as I hear the lace tear. I don’t have time to complain, because a second later his head is between my legs . . . his mouth on me. My head hits the windshield as I lean back and part my lips. His mouth is doing all sorts of wonderful things to me, and I yelp in a combination of pleasure and pain as his teeth lightly graze across my sensitive clit. Stone’s lips latch onto my clit as he grips my thigh with one hand, the other probing at my slick entrance, seeking permission. I groan as I fist my hands in his hair, urging his mouth closer as he presses first one finger deep inside, then another. “Stone,” I whimper, feeling the pressure build low in my stomach. It’s so much . . . too much. His mouth sucks my clit hard, then lets it out with a pop, only to take it once more. His fingers keep a steady rhythm as he makes a ‘come here’ gesture on my insides. I cry out as I contract around his hand and he increases the speed of his fingers, the suction of his mouth. Stone uses his tongue to flick a firm pattern directly on my clit and I explode, calling his name as I come hard.
Stone tears his lips away, resting his forehead against my thigh, breathing hard.
We stay like that for at least two minutes, our breathing harsh in the quiet car, neither one of us wanting to speak first. “Stay,” Stone finally repeats, pulling me down off the dashboard and into his lap. I feel the heat from his arousal against my sensitive core as he brushes a lock of hair out of my eyes. “I can’t,” I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from his piercing stare.
“I’m not asking you for anything, Shannon,” he assures me, kissing my eyelids. “Just stay for the night. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, but I’m too drunk to drive you home.”
I sit back on his knees and stare at him. A perfect gentleman? He was anything but gentlemanly just a moment ago. He makes an excellent point though; he’s drunk entirely too much, and we took his car to the club. I could call a cab, but the truth is I’m just exhausted. All I want to do now is curl up and go to sleep. “No funny business?” I ask, though I can’t stop myself from rubbing my clit once more across his hardness, feeling a slight shiver run through my body, like the aftershock of an earthquake.
“No funny business,” Stone promises, flexing against me as he grits his teeth. “Is that a yes?”
I nod slowly. “That’s a yes.”
I gasp as the knife slices through the skin on my abdomen again. I feel the blood trickle down my stomach, and my eyes roll back in my head. Not for the first time since I was captured, I wish for death.
“Tell us what you know,” the masked man says as he presses the tip of the knife against my skin. “You can end this. You just need to tell us.” I grit my teeth and remain silent.
“So be it,” the man sneers, putting more pressure on the knife.
I let out a hoarse yell as the metal scrapes the bone of one of my ribs. My skin burns, and white-hot flashes of pain cause black spots to dance in front of my eyes.
“This is what you get!” the man yells, his eyes dancing with glee, watching the blood pour from me as I’m tied spread-eagle to the table. He puts his face close to me, holding the knife against his cheek through the black cloth mask. “You will die either way,” he taunts. “It’s up to you if you die quickly . . . or slowly.”
I turn my head to the side as I hear a noise. My breathing becomes labored as I see a group of men lifting the body of the young girl into what looks like a large, black garbage bag. I feel my stomach churn as one of them grabs her decapitated head off the ground and holds it up by the hair, laughing as he speaks to the other men in Dari. The man above him chuckles as he sees the look on my face. “You see,” he says, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth. “We are what you call . . . information gatherers. We believe you have the information we seek, and you will tell us the truth, or I have no problem cutting the lying tongue from your mouth.”
“I’m not lying,” I choke out, my eyes wide with pleading as I silently beg him to believe me. I watch in horror as one of the men walks over to us, a lit torch in his hand. This can’t be real. Things like this happen in books and the movies, not in real life. Not to me. My screams echo off the walls as the torch touches the sensitive skin on the bottom of my foot . . .
“Stone, wake up!”
I bolt upright, gasping for breath. I feel hands on me and I fight to shake them off, but they’re strong, holding me tight.
“Stone, it’s okay, it’s me.”
The fog slowly starts to lift from my brain and I’m back in my own bed, but I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel okay. I’m fucking terrified.
I look up into Shannon’s worried face, my eyes wide with terror. In desperation, I grab her and pull her down on top of me, kissing her as hard as I can, kissing away the nightmares. She knows. God help me, she fucking understands. Instead of pushing me away like I expect her to, Shannon holds onto me and kisses me with the same ferocity and passion I show her. A million and one sensations pour through me, and for a moment, it’s too much. I try to pull back, stop it before we go too far. She makes it clear that she doesn’t want that as she frees my hardened cock from the confines of my jeans, not bothering to remove our clothes. My hand reaches up and grips her hair, and for just a second I’m so glad she left it out of the tie.
Her mouth opens as I position her on top of me, sitting up slightly so I can pull her hair down her back, forcing her neck backwards to expose the smooth column of her ivory throat. I feel the smooth wetness beneath her skirt, and I growl when I realize she’s not wearing panties. The tip of my cock nudges inside her, and I tear my lips from her throat long enough to sit back and watch her mouth widen in an ‘o’ shape as I fill her for the first time. Christ, she’s so fucking tight I have to grit my teeth to stop from coming too quickly. I try to enter her slowly, but Shannon wants none of that. She surprises me by pulling her hair away from my hand, bracing her palms on my chest through my shirt. She’s trying to take control, to calm me. But right now, that’s not what I need. I need to be the one in control. I need to banish these fears, banish the screams.