a lie, I do hate him, but the awareness of his power over me—that he’ll do whatever he wants to me and I’m helpless to stop him—causes the need that’s cooled in me to rise up again, drugging and intense.
“Fuck.” He grunts in pleasure, and I realize he’s stroking himself, that he’s been doing it all along. His quickening breaths leave no doubt. My proclamation has made him hotter and he’s pumping his shaft faster. “I love when you say that. Make yourself come for me.”
“No,” I say sulkily, ignoring the maddening throb in my core. Stupid, but the only way to fight him is to withhold what he wants, and giving in without resistance feels too much like weakness.
“Have you forgotten how much my belt hurts already?”
I let out a shaky sigh. My fingers slide through my still sopping folds, gliding back and forth over the sensitive bud until my hips wriggle. The movement rubs my backside against the mattress, and somehow the sting makes me needier even as it makes me whimper.
“That’s my Little Thief.” Spider’s breathing speeds up; he’s clearly able to tell what’s happening in his room by the sounds I’m making. “Now put your fingers in your pussy. Fuck yourself the way I fuck you with my cock.”
Oh, Lord, this is hot. Hatred for him scalds my insides.
I slip two fingers inside, sheathing them. My muscles clench, and pure pleasure rocks me. I gasp and squirm and hiss through my teeth. It’s easy to imagine that it’s Spider inside me, pounding me slowly as I thrust my fingers in and out.
Spider growls, a sound of pure lust, and I swear I can hear him pounding his shaft. “Fuck, you make me so hot. Drill your pussy, baby. Finger fuck yourself until you come.”
I make a greedy sound and my fingers thrust in and out of my wetness, slicking my hand with my juices. My hips rise off the bed, the angle allowing me to drive my fingers deeper. I pant and whimper, rubbing my palm against my clit with each stroke.
“Fuck me.” Spider grunts, panting savagely in my ear, driving me closer to the edge.
My fingers thrust wildly, and the tide of pleasure rips through me until I cry out. White lights slash across my vision as I come apart in a writhing mess.
Spider’s growl of release fills my ears.
Spent, I slide my fingers out and drop to the mattress, my arms falling to my sides.
“Damn. You’re so fucking perfect. No woman has ever made me as crazy as you make me, Wildcat. I’m never letting you go.”
The usual wave of shame over what I’ve done consumes me. I cover my face with my arm as if he really is there, able to see my burning rage. My eyes sting, the helplessness of a life as his prisoner sinking its claws in. I roll onto my side and fold in on myself.
“I’ll see you soon,” he purrs in my ear. “Oh, and one more thing,” he growls. “I won’t go easy on you for putting yourself in danger when I get back. And if you ever do anything like that again, I’ll show you what real pain is.”
The line goes dead.
Four days after Spider’s phone call, he still isn’t back.
Dozens of times since that phone conversation with him, I’d looked for a way to escape, determined to be as far away from Casper’s as possible before he returned, but an opportunity never came.
Unwilling to sit around and wait for whatever price Spider might decide to exact for putting myself in harm’s way, I’d checked the window in his bathroom the first night after that phone call, but someone had apparently come in and boarded it up while I was working the bar, probably on Spider’s orders. And there was always someone with me or keeping an eye on me, too close an eye for me to slip away.
It wasn’t only the notion of what Spider might do to me that motivated me to get away. Nearly every night, when I wasn’t having nightmares about Gary getting into Spider’s bedroom and pointing a gun at my head, I dreamed of Sarah, recaptured by the Colony and left alone in the darkened isolation shed for days. Or worse, in pain with fresh welts on her back from Deacon Jacob’s whip.
But with no way out of Casper’s or away from the MC, it seemed that whatever Spider had planned for me, there was nothing to do but hope