His Captive

The same warm hues downstairs are also here. Deep reds and oranges remind me of autumn leaves. A large, dark brown dresser sits against the furthest wall. The finishes are antique, complete with cute little pull knobs that you don’t really see around anymore. My entire wardrobe could fit comfortably is just two of the deep drawers.

In another corner of the room, there’s a beautiful armchair with a footstool situated in front. It would serve as the perfect reading nook for a lazy afternoon.

Too bad my books are miles away. Being able to escape into a fantasy world would make this situation a little more bearable. Just a little.

But my focus returns to the intricate designs on the armchair’s fabric. Under different circumstances, I could see myself sitting there enjoying the view from the window. What would it be like to be here with Robert, in a different situation? Me, having a cozy read by the window, before the big man comes home? The alpha sweeping my curvy into my arms, dropping a kiss on my lips before the loving starts? Oh god, it would be fantastic, and my insides shiver, moistening involuntarily.

But it’s absolutely off-limits. What the hell is wrong with you? the voice in my head screams. He’s your kidnapper, have you forgotten that? You’re trapped because of him, and yet you’re dreaming of sex with this guy? What the hell is wrong with you?

I bite my lip, flushing. Because of course the voice is right. My thoughts are pure fiction, I really am off the rocker at this point. But still, the fantasy was tempting. What would it be like to kiss him? What would it be like to have that hard body pressed against my own, that massive cock nudging my folds? Oh god, I want it, and throw my head back, moaning a little. I want it desperately, even if it’s wrong.

Shaking myself awake, I force myself to get with it, staring straight ahead. This is no good, I’m doing myself no favors. So burying all thoughts about Robert deep into the recesses of my mind, I focus on falling asleep again, shutting my eyes and trying to think of nothing.

But my brain is a traitor.

Everything would be absolutely perfect if I weren’t here against my will, it hums. Everything would be perfect if Robert were here with me, in bed.

Jolting awake again, I sit up abruptly. What the hell is wrong with me? The air’s hot, like I’m in a microwave, and I jump out from under the covers. Oh god, oh god, this is so wrong. But I’m burning up, so I do the only thing I can. Undressing, I get naked as fast as possible, curves bouncing everywhere here and there, and then nestle down in between the sheets, my skin sliding smoothly against the cool cotton. Hmm, this is so much better already. My temp’s going down and I nuzzle down into the fabric, the soft material grazing my lady parts and skating over my nips, tingling pleasantly.

But the thing is, I’m tired. Despite the scary events of the day, I’m bone tired and mentally drained, exhausted to the point of dropping dead. Head resting against the sea of pillows, I try to relax enough to force my body to sleep again.

Sleep, my brain commands. Sleep, Anna.

Still coaching myself, another deep breath escapes my lungs. Now the room is blanketed in inky, midnight darkness and I desperately try to relax. I want to forget everything, to drift off on a cloud of unconsciousness but everything’s ruined when he pops into my brain. Again.

Robert.

Piercing blue eyes fill my mind’s eye. That broad chest, the bronzed skin, and perfect, washboard abs, crowd my thoughts.

Tearing my eyes open, I try to shake it off.

You are NOT daydreaming about the monster who snatched you up in broad daylight and tossed you in the trunk of his car like unwanted garbage. Just stop, Anna, stop.

Disgusted with myself, I make another effort to fall asleep. Give me exhaustion if it means I’m free from those dangerous fantasies of him.

But instead, disobedient thoughts bubble up with the memory of that deep, growling voice. In an instant, the booming sound of his voice surrounds me, dominating all of my attention and sending unfamiliar pulses of pleasure to places I don’t want to name.

Waves of awareness shoot through my body, making me hate myself.

This is wrong, Anna. So, so wrong.

Under the sheets, my thighs clench together deliciously. Oh god, I shouldn’t. This shouldn’t be happening. These sensations are bad enough, but of course it doesn’t end there. As if I need just one more reason to feel guilty, memories keep flooding my mind.

Tempting images of Robert’s tall, rigid body join the effort to drive me insane. His hulking frame towering over my curvy body. Covered in nothing but solid muscle, he has the appearance of someone who works out like a lumberjack. And despite his dominating presence and thick corded muscles, he’s got a masculine grace that makes my mouth water.