Summer Camp Captive

Lainey wraps her arms around my waist, careful to avoid my injury. “Oh God. I’m afraid of what’s coming.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

I hold Lainey close, dropping my nose to her hair and inhaling her aloe vera and pineapple scent. “We were ambushed one night on patrol. My friends were going to be taken, probably killed. I couldn’t let it happen after what they’d done for me.” Lainey begins planting kisses on my belly, and I shudder, pleasure piercing through the pain of my memories. “I didn’t realize there were so many of the enemy. Not like tonight. They had forty, maybe fifty men…and even I couldn’t win that fight. My friends escaped to the truck, though. At the time, that’s what mattered.”

“They captured you.” She traces a scar in my back. “And this is what they did to you?”

“Yes. Before I got free.” I clear my throat, but the discomfort remains. “When I returned to camp, slashed and bleeding…the looks on their faces. If my friends could look at me like that, I couldn’t imagine how a stranger would see me. So I found this place. I found a way to stay away from everyone.”

“Carver.” Lainey looks up at me, her eyes shining. “They were forced to leave you behind. They were probably looking at you with guilt. Not fear or disgust.”

Could she be right? I was half delirious in the time leading up to being shipped home, bandages wrapped around my face and body, I only remember flashes of my men’s expressions, their clipped words. “I don’t know.”

“I do. And if they looked at you any other way, they didn’t deserve the sacrifice you made. You shouldn’t be ashamed of those scars. You should be proud of them.” She shakes her head. “And you definitely shouldn’t be hiding yourself away in the woods.”

The crowded feeling in my chest moves higher, into my throat. “I can’t imagine walking down the street like this.”

“I would hold your hand, my king,” she whispers, unzipping my pants slowly and tugging them down over my hips. “I’m not going to push you before you’re ready. I’ll be here when that day comes.” She guides me over to one of the beds, and I sit, wincing when it creaks long and hard under my weight. But when her knees land on the floor between my splayed legs, I think of nothing but her mouth. Watching it, my cock surges, moisture bubbling from the slit and dripping onto my stomach. This can’t be happening in real life. “In the meantime, you’re going to get the hero treatment you deserve.”

Chapter Eight

Lainey

Lord, he seems twice as massive from this perspective.

His thighs are stretched out on either side of my head, thicker than my torso, bulging with muscle and covered in hair. I’ve been so distracted by the rest of him, I failed to notice the ridges of his stomach. Is that a twelve-pack? Yeah. It is. A mountain range of swells, powerful and flexed in anticipation.

His erection stands waiting, veins pulsing from root to tip, moisture seeping from the head. Begging for my mouth. And after that story he told me, my heart is still trapped in a vise. He needs and deserves this. I won’t make him wait.

I take his shaft in two hands and begin stroking him, sucking in a breath at his extreme reaction. A bellow is trapped between his teeth. His arms almost go slack, sending him falling back on the bed, but he catches himself at the last minute, seeming determined to keep his view of me. His legs spread wider and begin to shake—all of this from one stroke. When I trail my tongue up the side of his arousal, he lets out an agonized moan, reaching down to twist his balls in a rough fist.

“You’re going to empty me, princess,” he rasps. “Go easy.”

“I’m only licking.” My loins flood with heat at the evidence of my power over this man. He might be a veritable giant, but one flick of my tongue can turn him into a shuddering mess. Moisture pools between my thighs, excitement buzzes in my blood. I tilt my hips back, giving Carver a nice view of my upturned bottom, well aware that the shorts only cover half of my cheeks. Looking up at him with an innocent expression, I circle the tip of his erection with my tongue. “Is this another new way to tickle, my king?”

Carver’s head falls back, his throat muscles prominent. “Christ. Oh Christ. I might come just from having you look at me like that.”

I suck his swollen, salty head into my mouth, humming in satisfaction as his fists pound the bed. “Like what?”

“Like we’ve got a very bad secret,” he pants, his hips rolling toward my mouth. “It’s more than that, though. You’re looking at me like I’m your man. And you know I won’t fuck up again and trap you beneath me. No matter how badly you torture my cock, I’ll stay strong and keep my princess happy.”