Jack pushed Caroline back down on the bed and she fell forward into the pillow, barely able to hold herself up. He began moving in and out of her again, harder and faster this time, until her hands and then her knees gave out. He held her hips, driving into her again and again. She knew he could hear her muffled screams, could feel her tighten around him as she came once more. He finally finished inside her with a yelp, collapsing onto the bed on top of her. He lay there for a minute before pulling out of her, slowly kissing a trail down her shoulder blades to her legs. She was still shaking.
“I love you,” he murmured. “Fuck, that shit made me cross-eyed.” He gently ran reassuring fingertips over her sweat slicked back, then noticed she had stilled.
“Caroline?” he asked cautiously, sweeping her hair out of her face.
She turned her head and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I need a minute.” She tried to push herself up before crumpling back onto the bed. Her insides were still contracting from her last extraordinarily deep orgasm and she could barely move. “That was intense.”
Jack kissed her cheek and wiped the tears from her face. “That was incredible, my love. You’re incredible,” he said. “Thank you.”
He didn’t need to thank her for something she wanted just as much as he did. He could take exactly what he wanted from her but he always gave it back in equal measure. If she was incredible, it was because he helped make her that way.
Caroline smiled weakly. “I would do anything for you, Jack,” she whispered, right before she passed out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Fed
When Caroline woke up, she retched. Not that she had anything that could come back out. The dinner roll was long gone. She hadn’t had anything else aside from a few shaky handfuls of water. Procured using her useless fucking hands. Her entire body ached. Her bones, her head, her skin. Her stomach still throbbed from Murdock’s well-placed kick. All part of a purposeful plan. Dehydrate her. Break her bones. Break her spirit. Make her talk or fuck her up if she doesn’t. Make it as painful and agonizing as possible.
She hoped her spleen hadn’t ruptured on top of how many other things were wrong with her at this point. Caroline doubled over in her bed, trying not to cry. She’d never been punched or kicked in the gut before. But then again, she’d never been pistol whipped, never had her fingers broken with a hammer, never been blindsided with a blow to the head…yeah, the past few weeks had been a revelation. Many things had been done to her that had never been done before. She doubted anything else that happened would be on her bucket list.
Stockholm Syndrome was not a concern.
She’d dreamt about the night that she never wanted to forget yet was terrified to remember. Beverly Hills. That incredible, mind-blowing night when she and Jack had turned the corner and never looked back.
But even that wasn’t as bad as dreaming about food. Why did she have to dream about food? Not even real food, but mere mentions of food. Even when she was asleep she was a goddamn tease. Imaginary food was enough to set her off. A sure sign of pure desolation.
Chocolate. Her kingdom for a piece of chocolate. A Hershey's Kiss. A chocolate chip. She'd choke down a teaspoon of disgustingly bitter baking cocoa at this point. Hell, she'd cut off one of her useless hands and offer it as a sacrifice if they'd just give her something to eat. That fucking dinner roll had tricked her body into thinking there would be more. Reactivating her hunger and giving her nothing in return. Maybe that was Powell’s mindfuck. He hadn’t been there to help but to make it worse, since she now considered bartering body parts just to nourish herself.
How many times had she shoved half a meal into the trash or dumped something down the drain? So wasteful. So damn spoiled and picky. Funny how privilege could evolve so effectively into despondency. If the guards marched in and put a pile of rancid meat in front of her, she’d probably choke it down without a second glance.
The lights flickered on and she shoved the now warm ice pack under her mattress. Hopefully they weren’t doing some sort of surprise cell search.