Captive (Lace Underground Trilogy Book 1)

  The music turns on. Led Zeppelin is strumming through my brain taking me on an almost hallucinogenic trip that is so erotically charged I nearly come without being touched at all. A shuddering gasp leaves my lips as I feel the bed move under his weight. The fabric of his pants rubs my naked thigh. I quickly suppress the disappointment at discovering he is still clothed.

  His hand runs sensually along my bare back, stopping at the tiny strap holding together the panties. One tug and they fall away. The only way I can sense his position is by the movement on the mattress. He's behind me now. Even through the drumbeat of the Zeppelin song, I can hear his shallow, fast breaths. Suddenly, without me realizing he's doing it, a rod has been placed between my feet keeping them far apart. Cool air laps at the hot moisture pooling between my legs. My clit is raw with wanting to be stroked, to feel the teasing pleasure that my nipples are experiencing. My head swims from the position I'm in and from being taken to the pinnacle of arousal. I bite my lip to keep from pleading for him to satisfy me. Something tells me he'd take too much pleasure from my pleas and delay it just to prolong my agony.

  Longing to be satisfied, I squirm to feel the upholstered wedge against my pussy. His hand comes down on my ass with a sharp slap to stop me. "Patience, Sweet Sin. Remember, this is exploration night."

  His large hands spread my ass wide. I suck in a sharp gasp as he pushes in a warm lubricated butt plug. I'm no prude by any stretch, but it's the first time I've experienced it. I clench against it at first and it slips out. Another sharp slap makes me cry out. Not with pain but with the need to be spanked again. He pushes the plug in firmly. I push my ass higher wanting more.

  "Please." I hear the word and can hardly believe it's my own voice.

  Somewhere behind me, I hear the pulsating sound of a vibrator. Tears pool in my eyes at the thought of being taken to orgasm. I'm so far along, it will only take a mere touch. The soft malleable tip of the sex toy presses against my clit, cradling it with a vibrating arm as the long, thick stem of it slides into my pussy. The ecstasy is instant and intense. I scream out in pleasure. I clutch the corners of the wedge for something to hold onto as the waves roll through my body.

  The orgasm has barely slowed when Kane pushes the toy in again. As if he has an internal map of my body he presses it firmly over my g-spot. The explosion starts again. I'm so breathless my screams have turned to whimpers. My pussy convulses around the toy as my ass grabs hold of the plug. After the third orgasm, I'm crying and exhausted and want nothing more than to curl up in a strong pair of arms. Maddox's arms. The thought penetrates the fog in my head, clear as day.

  Kane mercifully removes the vibrator. It takes minutes for my pulse and breathing to slow and my body to stop trembling.

  I collapse over the wedge and half expect him to just leave me there, a crumpled, shivering shell of a woman. He releases my wrists and takes away the rod so my feet are free. The blindfold comes off next. It's done with a gentleness that is in full contrast to moments ago when he threw my body into a long marathon of mindblowing orgasms.

  The music quiets to something more mellow. I feel myself growing heavy with a deeply satisfied exhaustion.

  Absently, I reach back to pull the plug from my ass, but his firm grasps circles my arm, stopping my progress.

  "Leave it," he commands with no explanation.

  I try and lift my weak body from the wedge. I'm pleased when he lifts me and rolls me into his arms. My limbs and neck are limp like a rag doll's as I curl against him. My shoulder brushes against the smooth skin on his chest. It occurs to me it's the first time I've actually touched him.

  Kane carries me to the vanity and takes a seat, cradling me in his arms and settling my naked ass on his lap. The plug moves in a little deeper and starts some of the erotic urges again, though I doubt I have the energy for more.

  I'm instantly aware of the huge erection straining against the fabric of his pants. It makes me rethink my previous conclusion. He's a stranger and I'm there to ruin him. I'm there to bring his sordid operation down and nail him for murder, yet I'm so comforted by his arms, I'm close to weeping. The drug in my veins has made me so obedient, I feel he could ask me anything and I'd comply.

  I rest my head against his hard shoulder, no longer able to hold it upright without great effort. I stare down as his large hands remove the clips from my nipples. I let go of a breath I don't realize I've been holding as the metal clasps release my tender flesh. There are an array of lotions and cosmetics on the vanity, put there for my use. Kane opens the lid on a jar of cream and dips his finger into it. He brings the cool, soothing dollop to my nipple. I moan in relief as he spreads the cream gently around it.

  "Do you enjoy that, Sweet Sin? I formulated it myself."

  "Hmm, it's like heaven in a jar. Do the spare set of fingers come with it? I think most of the enjoyment comes from the application."

  His laugh is so quiet, I only feel it when his body vibrates beneath me. "I notice you have the number ten tattooed on your bottom. Is it significant?"

  "Just a dare from a friend." My mind wafts back to that night. Maddox and I and some others were out celebrating a big drug bust. We got so drunk, somehow the discussion morphed to a game of truth or dare. Maddox asked me who I thought about more than anyone in the world. It was such a strange, unexpected question. Since there was no way to answer him, I took the dare. Get a tattoo. He said since my nickname was Ten and my ass was a ten, I should have the number tattooed on my ass. He didn't think I would do it, but he nearly fell over when I rolled the top of my jeans down to show him.

  Kane spreads more cream on my skin.

  I close my eyes for a second to enjoy the feel of it. "All your formulas, they're for women it seems."

  "Good observation."

  "Do you use these things to earn women's affection and love?" I have no idea why I ask it, but suddenly it seems important to understand Kane Freestone. He seems more complex than anyone I've ever met.

  "No, there's nothing to love here." His deep voice rumbles through his chest as I press my face against him. "I do it because I enjoy giving women pleasure."

  I lift my heavy head. His face is so close I can feel his breath on my chin, smell the fragrance of his soap, see the pure and utter loneliness in his eyes. "How can that be? What if you fall in love with someone? Wouldn't you move hell and earth to get them to love you?" My own latent feelings are coming to the surface. I tamp them down quickly to avoid letting too much slip.

  "I do not love and there is nothing loveable about me. It works out well for everyone. Did you enjoy the exploration session?" he asks. Although I'm sure there is little doubt left about my answer.

  I think about the question. I enjoyed it far more than I would have ever expected. It's as if some latent sexual desires were exposed. Still, there are other fantasies left untouched I realize as my mind drifts back to Maddox. I don't know if it's the drugs or being away from him for so long or just the fissure he left in my heart, but he is constantly in my thoughts.

  "It was very nice," I say. I can feel his body tense some at my weak praise. I continue unabated. "But it wasn't the pure, raw sex, the feeling of two bodies pressed hard against each other, the vigorous, primal movement where two people are so turned on they are frantically holding, thrusting, kissing and slamming against each other. Where the friction between their bodies is even hotter than the actual penetration. It wasn't that. It was just really satisfying. But for you?" I ask. "I guess it was just another day at the office for you? Do you treat all your new women to this exploration?"

  Kane doesn't answer at first, and it seems he doesn't plan to. Beneath my bottom, I can still feel his hard cock pushing against me. "Not everyone," is his full answer.

  He reaches over to the jar of cream and spreads a luxurious trail of it down my stomach. I mewl lightly at the feel of his cream slick fingers on my skin. It relaxes me while at the same time causing my pussy to awaken. It's still tender and aching as he moves his fingers
toward it. My thighs relax and fall apart, giving him full access. Almost involuntarily, I turn my face toward him and lick my lips in anticipation of a kiss. He doesn't meet my invitation. He seems, in fact, determined not to kiss me. I ignore the disappointment and instead focus on why I want the kiss in the first place. Is it the drug? Or is it just the shallow side of me, the new sexually awakened side that can dismiss his obvious faults and crave his kiss for the sole reason that he is an exceptionally beautiful man.

  The awkward kiss moment passes. Kane drags the cooling lotion along the newly bare skin of my pussy. His large fingers slip between the folds and over my clit.

  I grab the edge of his shirt, clutching it tightly as he penetrates me with first one, then two fingers. I'm stunned to find that even after multiple orgasms, my body is wound tight with erotic energy and ready for explosive release again. Kane is a master. He puts just enough pressure on my clit as his fingers fuck me. I close my thighs around his arm. My ass holds tightly to the plug, pulling it in with each contraction of my muscles and reaching some unknown g-spot I never realized I had.

  An involuntary moan rolls off my lips. The sound of it seems to produce the most reaction I've seen yet from the cool, calm man holding me. His cock thumps against the side of my hip and a low growl ushers from his throat.

  "Yes," I say on a whisper as I grind with new urgency against the pressure of his hand. "Yes, please. Fuck, yes." My body splinters apart. My pussy explodes into a million hot splashes of pleasure. The pulsating waves slow but I'm still clutching his shirt, worried that if I let go I'll slip to the floor like a limp, lifeless doll. I finally relax some and collapse against him. His body tenses beneath me again. I can hear his heart slamming against his chest.

  "And no, Sweet Sin," he says quietly. "This is absolutely not another day at the office for me."

  Moments later, after his hard to untangle response, I doze off sitting securely in his lap.

  24

  Maddox

  I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up and relax back on the park bench, stretching my legs out in front of me. I've caught more than one person's attention, a tiny, slim girl, who looks still a few years shy of adulthood and another girl with a mass of brown curls. From what I can see under the sporadic park lights she has a vine of roses tattooed along her arm. There are less people than I expect to see living in the park, a safe spot designated by the city. Cops can check up on the people but not harass them or tell them to move on. A few flat brown spots in the dry grassy areas between the cement paths, rusty slide and broken swings seem to indicate that some people have recently packed up their tents and moved on. Olson mentioned that Rowan, the guy who seems to be the connective thread in all this, had packed up his tent and left the park the day before Ten disappeared.

  The two girls are sitting near a tent watching and obviously talking about me. I roll down the paper bag around the bottle of tequila and make a show of taking a drink.

  Olson was about as helpful as a steaming pile of dog shit, so I decided the park was my best shot. I formulated a story, bought a bottle of tequila and headed across town to the park. Tiffany was angry enough not to call me, making my sharp detour that much easier.

  I smile half-heartedly at the two girls and lift the brown bag in invitation. That's all it takes. Seconds later, they are sitting next to me on the bench, one on each side.

  The petite girl with a wholesome smile reaches for the bottle without asking. She tosses the liquor back like a booze-hardened saloon girl.

  "Whoa there, little angel, that stuff will go straight to your head." I take the bottle back from her.

  She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and sighs with satisfaction. "That's good stuff. I'm Yoli by the way." She turns slightly on the bench. "And you're even hotter up close than I expected. Isn't he, Becky?"

  I turn to the rose tattoo girl, Becky, apparently, and offer her the tequila.

  "He is something. Makes me wonder what he's doing in this place." It seems I've found the cynical, suspicious member of the tent crowd. She takes a long sip and hands it back. "Are you setting up camp?" she asks. "I don't see any gear."

  "I'm just moving through. I'm looking for someone actually. Thought I might find her here but I guess not."

  Yoli presses her hand against her chest and makes a groaning sound. "Oh, you've only been here five minutes, and you've already broken my heart. It figures you're here for another girl. Maybe if you describe this lucky woman to us, we can let you know if she's been through. We get a lot of one or two day stopovers. A lot of people passing through use fake names, but let's start there."

  Yoli seems to be the friendlier, more forthcoming person so I focus back on her. She helps herself to another jolt of tequila and hands it back to me.

  "Don't know her name actually." I shrug casually. "We just sort of bunked up together for a couple of days, you know what I mean? She's about your height," I say to Yoli, "and she has brown eyes and red hair."

  "What the fuck is it about her?" Becky says sharply. "She not even pretty." She stomps off without a good-bye or nice to meet you.

  I turn back to Yoli. "Was it something I said?"

  She laughs. "That's just typical Becky. She's jealous cuz there was a girl who passed through here last week who matches that description. Her name is Tawny. Real smart and funny too." Yoli stares off into the park with its mostly dead trees and shabby tents twittering in the night breeze. "She's gone now. I don't expect to see her again." She faces me. "Why are you looking for her?" She knuckles my shoulder with her small fist. "Don't tell me a hunk like you has had his heart broken."

  Her comment sits with me for a second, then I smile weakly and hand her the tequila. As guilty as I feel handing liquor to a minor, I need her lips to be just a little looser, otherwise this park visit is a bust. I already knew Ten came through here. What I need to know now is where she went.

  "Nah, to tell you the truth, she walked off with my wallet while I was sleeping. Not that I had much inside of it, but I was carrying a picture of my mom." The bullshit keeps flowing. The sympathetic expression I'm hoping for is blinking back at me. "She died when I was ten and that was the only picture I had of her. So I need to get it back. If you can help me find her, I'd owe ya, Yoli."

  She pushes her fingers against her lips as if to stifle a sob. "That is so sweet. Hunky and sentimental. Now you really have broken my heart." She grabs the tequila for fortification. "I can't really say where she is. It's sort of a secret." Her words are slowing a bit. The tequila is taking hold. She's had enough to make someone my size good and drunk. She's doing a good job holding her liquor considering she can't weight more than a hundred pounds.

  I place the bottle on the opposite side of me, deciding to hide the temptation. I rest my arm back on the bench and give her the smile that used to work real fast in high school. "Anything you can tell me would help. I won't tell anyone. I don't even know anyone on this side of town. I sure hate to lose that picture."

  Her eyes round and she sits up, but with a slight sway. "Wait a minute. You don't need to find her. I've got her stuff still sitting in my tent. I invited her to bunk with me until she got her own tent. Turns out she wasn't around long enough to need one. She's probably living like a princess now in the Lace—" Her hand claps over her mouth. "I can't tell you." She jumps up a little too fast from the bench. I grab hold of her hand to keep her from falling over.

  She smiles down at my fingers wrapped around her hand. A sly smiles turns up her lips. "You want to come into my tent and look through her stuff for the wallet?"

  She's steadier on her feet, so I release my hold. "Why don't you look through it and let me know what you find."

  Her smile twists down in disappointment. "Figures. Some girls have all the luck. Guess Tawny really has a lot of it. She even got chosen. No one ever gets chosen." She says as she heads to her tent. She returns with an uneven walk, the kind that would never pass the drunk driving test. She's carrying an old tattered
army green backpack that I immediately recognize as one Ten has used on stakeouts. She would fill it with trail mix or potato chips, depending on whether she was in the mood to eat healthy or, as she liked to say, eat whatever the hell she felt like. I hadn't seen it in a long time. The sight of it thumps against my chest. She is fine, I remind myself. If anyone can handle herself in a bad situation, it's Ten. She thinks so fast on her feet, sometimes it's impossible to predict what her next move will be. She's fine. She has to be.

  "I feel a little guilty going through her stuff," Yoli says. Her words are as slow and uneven as her footsteps. She pulls out some underwear and laughs. "Guess she doesn't need these where she's at."

  The comment makes my muscles go rigid. "No? How's that?" I'm hoping the tequila has loosened her tongue some more.

  Yoli pulls her lips in and shakes her head as if telling herself, don't do it, Yoli. Don't tell him. She pulls out a pack of birth control pills. "Oh boy. She's going to regret not taking these with her the night of the party."

  "Party? Sounds good. Where's it at?" I say, without pause, hoping she'll keep spilling.

  She bites her bottom lip in an attempt to stop herself but it's not enough. She drops the backpack on the bench next to me.

  I try and decide if I'm just losing my fucking mind with missing Ten or if I'm actually catching the scent of her shampoo coming off the ratty old backpack. I stop myself from picking the bag up and pressing it to my face.