Riana woke up when all the lights in the Hold went on.

Blinking, she tried to adjust to the sudden brightness, feeling a pang of soreness between her legs and stickiness from not washing up after he’d ejaculated inside her twice.

She felt achy and exhausted, and her stomach felt like a heavy stone in her gut.

But at least she was alive. And healthy.

When all the odds had been against her.

Cain was still in bed too, but his eyes were open, staring fixedly at the ceiling. His arms were crossed behind his head¸ and the covers were pushed down around his belly.

She couldn’t believe she’d fucked him. Twice. And come the second time.

She started to say something—just some trivial comment in order to break the silence—but then she stopped herself. He didn’t appear to be in a conversational mood, and the last thing she wanted to do was annoy him.

After a few minutes, he glanced over at her and held her eyes with his.

He still didn’t speak, however, and Riana was getting anxious about the prolonged silence.

Was he planning to tell her he’d had his fill of her already?

She wasn’t the best fuck in the world, but once she warmed up she’d be better. He could at least give her more of a chance.

She actually gasped when he finally moved, so primed was she to handle whatever crisis reared its head next, but he just strode back to the bathroom.

When she heard a sudden roar of noise from outside the cell, she sat up straight in bed, her heart pounding in terror. It sounded like a riot had just exploded out of nowhere. She’d heard disturbing sounds all night—crude voices, grunts, and screams triggered by God knew what—but it hadn’t been anything like this.

Cain came out of the bathroom and noticed her frozen demeanor.

“Meal time,” he explained brusquely. “It’s not pretty.” After quickly washing his face and hands in the sink, he shook himself off like a dog and continued, “I’ll be back. You’ll want to stay here.”

Riana hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours, and she would soon be faint from hunger. But the sound of the madness triggered by the arrival of food—like wild cats fighting over a carcass—kept her from complaining about his plan. “Can…can you lock me in?”

“Of course. What else?”

She flushed at his impatient response and said no more as he picked up a large bowl, a bottle, and a spoon from the table, unlocked the barred door, stepped out, and locked it again behind him. There must be only one key, which he kept on him at all times.

She used the bathroom while he was gone and was relieved that there were no lurkers, slinking outside the bars to ogle or intimidate her. Meal time must take everyone’s attention.

Cain returned in less than ten minutes. He had the large bowl filled with something that smelled like stew, a hunk of bread and two bottles. He must have found another one.

He tossed her one of the bottles, which she accepted appreciatively, gulping down the water inside.

But it would have been nice if he’d brought her some food too.

She wouldn’t dream of complaining for fear of annoying him even more, but he was going to have to feed her eventually if he wanted to keep her alive to fuck her.

He put down the bowl and the bread on the table and then set down something he’d had tucked under his arm.

It was another bowl. A smaller one and empty.

Riana just stared as he spooned some of the stew from the large one into the empty one.

“How much do you want?”

Almost speechless with surprise and relief, Riana choked, “That’s enough. Thanks.”

He handed her the stew and broke off half the bread for her. He also had an extra spoon. She assumed he must have claimed them from one of the other prisoners.

She ate ravenously. It wasn’t very good—the stew was thick and bland, and the bread was dry—but she was too hungry to care.

When she’d scraped the bottom of the bowl, Cain had already finished. He raised one eyebrow at her quizzically. “You want more?”

The riotous sounds from outside were subsiding. “It sounds like the food is gone.”

“I can get more.”

There was something dangerous, almost predatory about the way he said the words. Riana gulped. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Not wanting to be useless, she got up from the bed and went to wash out the bowls and spoons.

Cain didn’t say anything else. Instead, he did a few stretches and then started doing chin-ups on one of the horizontal bars of the cell.

She watched as he did a lengthy exercise routine—chin-ups, sit-ups, push-ups, and several other strengthening routines.

His body was gorgeous. Honed tight and powerful like a racehorse but still graceful—without the unattractively overdeveloped muscles she’d seen on several men in the prison.

He was tight and efficient, and more dangerous because of it.

She pulled on her shirt over her camisole and straightened the bed, but then was at a loss for what to do.

Cain wasn’t any help in that department. When he’d finished his work-out, he unlocked the door. “I’ll be back.”

Then he locked the door behind her.

She saw him take off at a run and figured maybe he ran around the Hold every morning for exercise.

And for something to do.

That was nice for him. To be able to do something.

She couldn’t do anything.

Finally, she moved to the far corner of the cell and ran in place for a while. Then she did some jumping jacks, and then some yoga stretches.

As she was leaning over, stretching down with her hands on the floor, she became conscious of voices behind her.

She’d started to block out the constant sound of the Hold, having it blur into a vague mumble, but these voices were close.

And she could hear the words.

“Look at that ass. Makes me want to ram my dick into it until she screams.”

“I’d make her scream all right.”

Riana jerked up and whirled around, saw Asp standing with another prisoner. They were right at the bars, leering in at her.

And their offensive, objectifying expressions made her feel suddenly sick.

She wasn’t going to show them they’d gotten to her, though. With a cold glare, she bit out, “Get the fuck away.”

Asp cackled maliciously. “The bitch wants to put up a fight.”

“You’d think a whore would know her place.”

“She knows her place. On her back with her legs spread.”

Riana’s vision blurred. She hadn’t spent her life being coddled, and she knew how to handle herself in most situations. She’d spent her teenage years basically independent, since her grandmother wasn’t much of an authority, so she figured she was tougher than a lot of women.

But she’d never been confronted with that kind of coarse, demeaning objectification. Her cheeks burned with anger and mortification, and she turned her back to them.

That was a mistake.

The second man bombarded her with ribald laughter. “Looks like she prefers it from behind. Gotta love that ass.”

Riana knew she shouldn’t back down, but she couldn’t take much more of this. Talking back to them would just encourage their verbal assault, but she was trapped in this cell, unable to get away from them.

She withstood their continued nastiness as long as she could, but it grew progressively worse.

When they started to describe what they would do when Cain got tired of the cunt and handed her to them, Riana went into the bathroom nook.

It wasn’t a particularly pleasant place to hang out, but there was a wall she could hide behind.

She felt like a weakling and a coward, but at least she could put her hands over her ears and not look at them anymore.

She stayed like that for several minutes, shaking and willing herself not to be sick.

When she lowered her hands from her ears, she was relieved that their voices were no longer assaulting her.

She didn’t want to go back out to the cell by herself, though, like a caged animal for their disgusting entertainment.

Where the hell was Cain anyway? Selfish bastard. Taking a run and leaving her here by herself.

“Riana?”

She heard the sound of his voice before she heard the door unlocking and swinging open.

She darted back out to the cell, flushing again with mortification at the possibility of Cain catching her in her cowardice.

He was drenched in perspiration, his t-shirt sticking wetly to his chest and sweat streaming down the sides of his face. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

She supposed there was no chance he’d believe she was going to the bathroom. She’d been on the wrong side of the bathroom nook for that.

He stepped into the bathroom and glanced around—as if he suspected she was hiding something in there.

“What’s going on?” His stoic features had tightened, and she realized it was the beginnings of anger on his face.

“I was just…” she burst out, realizing she’d better tell him the truth or he’d think something worse. “There were guys who were… I was just hiding.”

To her relief, his face cleared. “I see.” He turned on the water and started splashing some on his face and arms. “You need to toughen up.”

“I know.”

She swallowed and turned away from him, trying to fight down her automatic anger and resentment.

Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Telling her to toughen up.

She wasn’t a criminal. She wasn’t used to this sort of animalistic behavior.

She was a harmless archeologist who’d always minded her own business.

It wasn’t her fault she got thrown into this hellhole with a bunch of beasts.

And with one arrogant, self-centered ass who treated her like an idiot.

When he finished washing up, he dried his face on a thread-thin towel. Then he peered at her, appearing to notice everything from her unnaturally stiff shoulders to her slightly protruding chin.

For the first time since she’d met him, she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up, as if he were amused.

It was the only sign she’d seen that he actually possessed a sense of humor.

An infuriating sense of humor. Since it only emerged to mock her.

She bit back the sharp comment she’d been about to snap at him.

She couldn’t make him mad. She was in far too precarious a situation.

Turning away from him, she stared at the floor. When she noticed he’d stopped looking at her, she did her best to pitch her voice as pleasant. “So what exactly do we do here?”

“Nothing.”

“You mean there’s nothing to do at all?”

Cain glanced out the bars of the cell. “You can go out and play, if you want.”

Riana didn’t miss the snide bite in his tone, and it made her heart lurch. “I wasn’t complaining,” she said quickly. “I was just—”

“There’s nothing to do,” he said, his voice softer, as if in response to her distress. “This is life here.”

Nothing to do but fight for food, territory, and mates. The perfect circumstances for turning human beings into animals.

She curled up on the bed and tried not to whimper in dismay. How the hell was she going to make it through the next week? Much less the rest of her life?

Cain turned his back on her and went over to sit on the floor. He pulled the sheet off the object on the floor, and she saw that it appeared to be a pile of spare parts of metal and plastic.

She considered asking what it was but suspected he wasn’t going to tell her.

So she just watched as he tinkered and eventually realized that about half the pile was put together into some sort of device.

Maybe it was a crude engine of some sort. It looked too foreign and awkward for her to tell.

She watched for an hour while he managed to fit into the mass a piece of wire he pulled out of his pocket. He must have found the wire on his run. Who knew where he located all the spare parts?

Eventually she got so bored with watching him putter around that she actually fell asleep.

She dreamed he’d created a little submersible out of the engine and used it for the two of them to escape from the prison. Then the submersible transformed into a spacecraft and rocketed them off the planet.

They had landed on some kind of paradise planet—made up of sunshine, beaches, and tropical plants—when she was awakened by a clattering sound.

She jerked into consciousness and saw immediately that he had dropped the makeshift screwdriver he was using.

He glanced over at her as he hauled himself to his feet and stretched like a big cat. “Do you want to take a walk?”

She blinked at his gruff voice, trying to process the question. “What?”

“I was going out.” He nodded toward the bars of the cell to specify what he meant. “Do you want to come too or would you rather stay here? I thought you might be getting cabin fever.”

That was certainly true, but she was still nervous about making herself a nuisance. “I am. As long as you think it would be okay.”

His spine stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Assuming you think I can manage to keep you safe for a few minutes.”

Straightening up and rubbing her face, she said, “Of course you’ll keep me safe.” She was baffled that he thought she would have doubted it. “I meant, would I be too much trouble. If I can’t keep up with your marathon run or whatever.”

His expression cleared and his shoulders relaxed. “I only run in the mornings. This afternoon, I’m on the hunt.”

His tone wasn’t particularly threatening, but Riana’s mouth fell open in surprise. On the hunt? For what? It was like he’d transformed into a powerful animal, and she could suddenly see him ripping apart limbs and devouring his prey.

Like a lion. Except that wasn’t right. Lions were too brightly colored and laid-back, lolling around on the grass most of the time. A bear was closer to capturing the right mood, but Cain wasn’t lumbering enough for a bear.

He was sleek and dark and dangerous. Like a wolf with those blue eyes.

But wolves were pack animals, and Cain didn’t run in a pack.

He was a lone hunter. Like a leopard. Agile and graceful and deadly, with hidden power in his limbs.

Cain cleared his throat and gave her a puzzled look.

Riana’s cheeks flushed as she realized she’d been staring at him with her mouth open—for who knew how long—trying to find the right animal to compare him to.

“Hunting what?” she gasped. Then flushed more hotly as she heard the awed, tremulous sound of her own voice.

His thin lips twitched again—that faint sign of his sense of humor, once more directed at her. “Nothing bloody,” he said, as if he’d just read her mind.

He directed a pointed look over at his pile of spare parts, and she realized he must be looking for something for his device.

“Oh.” She pulled herself up and straightened her shirt and her hair. Her hair was getting tangled, and she realized it would only get worse as the days passed. “I’ll come with you. Thanks.”

At first, it was nice to get out of the cell and stretch her legs a little. Now that she knew what to expect, the Hold didn’t feel so monstrous and cavernous. And, while she still felt small and vulnerable, she didn’t feel threatened on all sides because Cain was beside her.

She wasn’t blind to the way the weaker prisoners—many toothless and nearly naked—slunk out of the way as he approached. Nor did she miss the way the stronger men bristled and gave him covert glares but didn’t dare to confront him directly.

Cain wasn’t an alpha male like Thorn was, demanding blatant submission, claiming power for the sake of power, and cultivating an entourage of lackeys and wannabes.

But that didn’t mean people didn’t recognize the threat he posed.

Especially after beating Thorn up the day before.

Riana stayed as close to Cain’s side as she could, at one point shrinking into him when a gross man with a scabby face made a flailing grope for her.

Cain swatted the man away—in a move that was more efficient than angry—but it sent the man reeling back to slump against a wall.

No one approached them after that. No one tried to speak to them. Riana would have preferred it if they’d been ignored, but that was obviously not what was happening here.

Everyone was aware of them, and Riana felt painfully on display.

Cain didn’t say anything to her at all. He hadn’t lied when he’d said he was going on the hunt. His eyes were never still, constantly searching the cells, the prisoners, every object in the Hold as they made two laps around the perimeter.

The only distraction from the search was when the armored vehicle came up behind them. It would have run her over had Cain not pulled her out of the way.

He sneered faintly at the vehicle plowing down toward the cells at the far end.

“A new prisoner?” she asked, feeling kind of sick as she remembered the day before. She’d been sure she would be raped, tortured, killed.

It was a miracle she hadn’t been.

“No. Checkup.”

He spoke as if she should know what that meant, and Riana felt a flicker of annoyance when she had to press him to explain. “You want to fill me in on that?”

“Part of the Coalition’s public claims about prison planets is that the prisoners’ health is regularly assessed.”

Riana studied him closely, a little surprised by both the articulate wording of his response and the dry intelligence of his tone. He’d seemed so purely physical—like a forceful, grunting, primal force—that she hadn’t expected such a tone from him.

His eyes shifted away at her stare, but she couldn’t tell if it was from boredom or discomfort.

“That’s a joke,” she said, responding to what he’d said. “Humans are treated worse than animals in his hole. I’m surprised they don’t just kill prisoners instead of keeping us all cooped up in here. It would be cheaper that way, and who would know?”

“Too many activist groups. Someone would find out.”

She figured he was probably right. The Coalition Council held onto its power with a delicate balance that could be upset by any political mistake. The cost of keeping up the prisons was nothing compared to the possible political backlash. “They claim to assess our health regularly?”

“They do. And they justify it by bringing each prisoner up for ‘checkup’ once a year.”

When he didn’t say anything else, Riana just watched as what appeared to be a mechanized claw extended from the armored vehicle and clamped down around a bearded, dirty man who’d been slouching against a wall. Once it had hold of the man, the vehicle retreated back out of the Hold.

“Do I want to know?” she asked, a wave of horror passing over her as she imagined possibilities for the checkup.

“No.”

That was enough for Riana. She didn’t pursue the topic and tried not to think about it any further.

Instead, she watched as Cain continued his hunt, his powerful body moving in a graceful stalk as he paced around the perimeter again. She did her best to keep up.

Riana was starting to get tired, and her breath was coming out in little pants as she tried to match his stride without complaining. Finally, she said, “Did you find what you needed?”

“Yes.” Cain didn’t say any more than that, but he directed their course toward the open space in the middle of the Hold—where there were battered tables and chairs, a few dilapidated pieces of workout equipment, and a trash chute.

Riana had noticed that a lot of the prisoners tended to mingle in that area—doing whatever it was they did to kill the time.

She reddened and sucked in a breath when she saw a grizzled man with a patch on one eye fucking a woman who was on her hands and knees. The woman must have been sixty and was the most unattractive woman Riana had ever seen. A few prisoners were looking on at the rutting with slightly bored amusement.

What kind of life must that woman lead? The idea sickened Riana even as she tried to forget the image.

Cain didn’t even glance over at it, and she wondered if he had always been this callous or if living in this place had made him that way.

He headed over to a small gathering of men who seemed to be making bets on if and how fast a rat would make it up out of the trash chute.

She thought for a moment Cain was going to talk to them, but he didn’t. He passed by, knocking one of them with his shoulder.

It couldn’t have been accidental. Riana saw him aim with his shoulder. The man he’d knocked stumbled forward toward the trash chute. He barely caught himself in time before his foot got caught in the chute. But his stumble had startled the rat, which made a quick retreat and disappeared.

One of his companions didn’t appreciate this abrupt end to their wager. He lashed out at the man who’d stumbled, smashing a fist into his jaw.

The victim fought back, and the scuffle attracted the attention of several nearby men—many of whom had been ogling Riana.

She just gaped as the fight broke out. And gaped as Cain casually turned her around, urging her back toward the cell with his hand on the small of her back.

As he passed the gaggle of onlookers, he casually bent down and picked up something from the floor, discreetly depositing it into his pocket.

Riana didn’t speak until they’d returned to the cell and he’d shut and locked the door behind them.

Then she gasped, “What did you get?”

He pulled a mangled fork out of his pocket and tossed it over near his pile of salvaged treasures.

“A fork?”

He gave her a narrow-eyed look, as if challenging her to cast aspersions on the worth of his find.

“Why didn’t you just take it from the guy?”

He turned his back on her and faced the sink, turning on the water. “Why fight if you don’t have to?”

It was a good question. It just wasn’t the kind of question she would have expected a macho, dominant guy like Cain to ask himself.

He’d leaned forward to cup his hands under the running water when he sucked in a sharp breath and stiffened suddenly.

Something about the way he moved told Riana something she should have known before. “Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even acknowledge the question as he leaned down toward the water again.

Instinctively, Riana got up and walked over to him. “Seriously, are you hurt? I should have asked before. Was it from the fight yesterday?”

“I’m not hurt,” he gritted out, reaching for a towel.

While he was distracted by drying his face, Riana pulled up the side of his t-shirt to expose the side he’d seem to favor a moment before.

His entire side was a mass of ugly, purple bruises.

“My God. Cain. My God!”

He jerked away. “They’re bruises. Nothing to whine about.”

“They look horrible,” she said, trying to get his t-shirt pushed up more so she could see the extent of the damage. “Why didn’t you say anything? And you did all those exercises this morning. It must have hurt like hell.”

He gave her an unpleasant look. “Are you through?”

“No,” she said, too upset to even consider whether she was being wise to press her attention on him in this matter. “Can I see how bad it is?”

“Why?”

“I know some first aid. If you broke a rib or something—”

“I didn’t break a rib.”

But he didn’t object when she’d pushed his t-shirt up and then carefully pulled it off over his head. The bruising went from his left shoulder blade all the way down his side and forward toward his lower belly.

Riana brushed her fingers along the damage, wishing she could remember more of her medical training. “This must be why you didn’t want to fight just now.”

He tensed palpably. “I could have taken them easily.”

“I’m sure you could,” she assured him quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t.” She winced as she noticed a particularly dark bruise on his lower side. “But this looks terrible. Thorn did a number on you.”

Her voice had been gentle, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say—yet again. Cain stiffened and pulled away. “I promise he looks worse.”

She blinked up at his closed-off face, and she realized he was still bristling with a wounded masculine ego.

What the fuck was wrong with men anyway? No matter how tough and rugged they were, they still managed to be sensitive about the slightest hint they weren’t invulnerable.

“I’m sure he does,” she said lightly, instead of following her urge to complain about his acting like a baby. “He must look so bad he’s been afraid to show his face all day.”

This apparently was the right thing to say. Cain relaxed and gave a snort of what almost sounded like amusement. “I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.”

“Good.” She smiled and continued inspecting the damage on his body, making instinctive note of the rippling muscles of his back and the scattering of course dark hair on his chest. “I hope it heals crooked.”

He didn’t respond, but she saw the corner of his lips quirk up. This time it was longer than a moment. It wasn’t a full-fledged smile, but it was closer than anything she’d seen.

She ran her fingers down his back—pretending to check for damage but mostly because she found the smooth, strong planes irresistible. “I wish you’d told me about your bruises before,” she murmured. “Last night I mean. When we were… I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

He turned on his heel, so sharply she didn’t expect it. Facing her, he reached out to grab her by the hips. “Nothing about last night hurt,” he said, his voice as thick and rough as gravel. “I’m not that injured.”

Then, as if to prove his point, he slid his big hands back until they were spanning the curve of her ass. He lifted her up to a position where she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Your bruises,” she gasped, squirming as she tried not to put any pressure on his damaged side.

He started to walk, his grip so strong there was no sense in fighting it. “I told you. I’m not that injured.”

He carried her over to the bed, his size and strength making her feel unexpectedly small and feminine. When he reached the bed, he lowered her onto the thin mattress and moved over her, the muscles of his arms bulging as he supported himself above her.

His eyes were so intense they seemed to devour her, and Riana felt naked despite her grungy shirt. She also felt a thrill of excitement. Anticipation.

Despite the bleakness of her situation—or perhaps because of it—her body responded to the sight of him above her. He was an attractive, virile man. Different from any man she’d ever known. She was going to have to fuck him if she wanted to stay alive.

She might as well enjoy it.

He leaned down, and her eyes widened as his face lowered toward hers—their gazes never breaking. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

But instead he shifted direction just slightly to run his lips in a line down her throat.

She tilted her head back, sucking in her breath as she felt his mouth on the sensitive skin at her pulse. He smelled strongly, but it wasn’t unpleasant—it was almost a relief after the vague nastiness of the mingled odor of the Hold—and the scent of him surrounded her, intensifying her carnal response.

When he nipped at her neck slightly, she gasped at the resulting jolt of pleasure. Then she jerked her shoulders up so she could pull off her shirt. When she tossed it away, his mouth lowered even more until he mouthed her right breast through the fabric of her camisole.

She squirmed beneath him as tugs of arousal multiplied in her pussy. Her fingers groped at the back of his neck, then slid up to feel the delicious texture of the close-cropped hair on his scalp.

He adjusted his position until he was kneeling on the floor as his mouth lowered down to her middle. He pushed up her camisole to bare her flat belly, and she moaned when she felt him press hard kisses onto the sensitive skin there.

He must have unfastened her pants while she was distracted by his mouth on her belly because he pulled them off with a quick yank, taking her panties with them.

She gave a little squeal of surprise and excitement at the rough move and felt an ache of desire between her legs when he stood up beside the bed—big, primal, and powerful. She was wet. Really wet. And she was glad to see the bulge at his groin—proof that he was aroused as well.

“Turn over,” he said in a thick voice, kneeling on the bed beside her.

She wasn’t sure if his words had been a request or an order, and she didn’t really care. Doggy style sounded pretty good to her.

She arranged herself on her hands and knees, pointing her head and shoulders away from him.

He covered her exposed bottom with both of his big hands and gave it a possessive squeeze. “Damn, you have a great ass,” he muttered.

It was the first compliment he’d ever given her. And, despite its crudeness, it gave her a ridiculous little thrill. She looked over her shoulder at him and felt another thrill at the smolder she saw in his eyes as he stared down at her half-naked body.

Then she saw him move one of his hands and felt two of his fingers in her slick pussy. The penetration made her gasp.

He pumped his fingers a few time, hitting her G-spot and rubbing her inner walls.

Riana gave a breathless grunt and started to pant at the delicious stimulation. Still looking back at him, she bumped her hips back toward him, trying to accelerate the rhythm.

“Fuck.” Cain’s voice was faint, and she couldn’t tell if he was pleased, surprised, or baffled by her obvious eagerness. But before she could start to feel self-conscious, he added, “So hot.”

That was okay then. So she kept pumping her ass against the penetration of his fingers, beginning to huff out little grunts that sounded almost childish as an orgasm developed more quickly that she could have expected.

Her breasts jiggled in her top, and it took some effort to keep looking over her shoulder at him kneeling behind her. But she couldn’t seem to turn away from the expression on his face—hungry and intense, like he wanted to swallow her whole.

He stared down at her eager bouncing and skillfully moved his fingers in her wet pussy until her grunts turned to whimpers and then to wordless mews as he took her to the edge.

He was pushing hard against her G-spot as she came, her body jerking in clumsy spasms as the waves of release washed over her and her pussy clamped down hard around his fingers.

He sustained the contractions by pumping his fingers against the spasms, and her entire body flushed hotly as her urgency relaxed into satisfaction.

She was a little embarrassed as she darted one last look at his face, hoping he didn’t think she was too easy or desperate for succumbing so easily to his advances.

For coming from nothing more than a few pumps of his fingers.

But he was already unfastening his trousers, and he looked just as eager as she had been as he aligned himself behind her, grabbing her bottom cheeks and pulling them apart so he could sink his cock into her.

She made a silly sound as the hard substance of his erection penetrated her, stretching and filling her deeply. She adjusted her hands, bracing herself on her arms so she could rock her bottom back against his pelvis.

He began to thrust immediately, his cock moving easily inside her slick pussy, and each thrust hit her in just the right way.

She couldn’t look away from his expression—it was tense now, and ravenous, and so hot. At the twist in his features every time she tightened her pussy around him. She could tell he was enjoying how it felt to be buried inside her.

They were both breathing loudly, and the cot was starting to shake, squeaking shamelessly in response to their motion. The rest of the sound in the Hold blurred into a background murmur, fading against the stark urgency of their coupling.

Riana felt another orgasm beginning to build, and she gasped in both surprise and pleasure. Her neck was starting to ache and she was losing her concentration, so she finally let her head fall forward again.

And realized they had an audience.

It wasn’t the offensive onlookers of the night before. She didn’t even recognize the two men who were staring in through the bars of the cell, openly gawking at their fucking.

She stifled a whimper, not wanting Cain to tell her to toughen up again. There was no privacy in this hellhole. She would need to get used to that.

Cain hadn’t even seemed to notice them—the others were so insignificant to him. She needed to learn to ignore them in the same way.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they must see. She was on her hands and knees on the bed, naked except for her disarranged camisole. Her tangled hair was falling into her flushed face. Her breasts and the flesh of her ass was jiggling as she pumped her hips back toward Cain’s pelvis, eagerly meeting each of his thrusts. Their skin was slapping together, and Cain gripped possessive handfuls of her bottom.

And she was going to come again.

These strangers on the other side of the bars were going to see her. Coming hard from being fucked like this by a man she barely knew.

The pressure at her center tightened like a fist, sending shockwaves of pleasure into her building orgasm. “Oh God,” she gasped, her vision blurring over as she bumped her bottom back against his hard strokes as rapidly as she could.

He let go of her ass and reached forward, pushing gently on her upper back until she folded her arms and lowered her shoulders to the mattress, leaving just her bottom in the air. He didn’t pull back. Instead he planted one of his hands next to her shoulder, giving him better leverage to thrust.

He wasn’t pulling out much now but his hips were pistoning against her ass, pushing into her in fast, animalistic strokes. The only sounds he made were low grunts and fast, wet breathing.

She tried to keep her eyes on the bedding just before her eyes, but she couldn’t resist turning her head to look out the bars again.

The two men were still watching. One of them had his mouth hanging open. Then she heard the other one say, “Fuck. Look at her take it.”

Riana whimpered and hid her face in the mattress, burning with heat that was as much shameless desire as it was mortification.

“Ignore them.” The voice was low, gruff, right in her ear. Cain.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Take it?” This voice was from outside the cell. The other man. “She wants it bad.”

Riana tried to smother another whimper in the bedding as her whole body began to shake with intensifying need and urgency.

She did want it. She wanted it bad. And the feel of Cain’s cock driving into her deep and hard was threatening to make her scream with an inexplicable pleasure.

Part of her wished that Cain would lash out at the men—making them leave the way he’d made the men leave last night.

But she somehow knew he wouldn’t do that. It would make him weak. It would give the other prisoners power over him.

Over both of them.

It was a gift that he’d done so for her last night.

So she did as he said and tried to ignore the onlookers. Instead, she fought through her physical responses to find the concentration to turn back to look at Cain again.

His expression was almost twisted with what he was feeling, and there was something mesmerizing about the primitive fire in his eyes.

She felt another clench of sharp pleasure. “Oh yeah.”

“Yeah?” he gritted out, his face only inches from hers.

She wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking, but she answered him anyway. Her whole body was shaking—from the force of his motion now since she couldn’t do much pumping in her present position—and her vision was starting to glaze over again. “Yeah,” she gasped, “Gonna come. Again. Oh God!”

His thrusting intensified even more—so hard now the bed squeaked even more loudly. His grunts grew even more animalistic, guttural sounds that turned her on more than she could begin to understand.

She huffed out choppy little sounds as the agonizing pressure in her pussy finally peaked.

She buried her face in the bedding to smother her scream of release as her pussy clenched around his cock.

She was conscious of his pelvis jerking clumsily against her bottom, and she heard a rough sound as he came as well. But she couldn’t think of anything except the pulsing waves of pleasure, radiating from her center to saturate her body.

They left her feeling drained, exhausted, hot, and deliciously satisfied.

And really, really embarrassed.

She could feel Cain panting above her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn her head to meet his eyes immediately.

After a minute, he asked, “Okay?”

The gruff question made her able to unbury her head and look up at him. He was pulling his cock out of her pussy with a sloppy wet sound.

“Yeah,” she said with a faint smile. It was nice of him to ask—even in such an abrupt way. “That was pretty good.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Yeah. Pretty good.”

The irony in his voice made her snicker a little, and she felt better as she curled up on the bed, trying to hide her body as best she could from whomever happened to be outside.

Cain got up, pulling up his pants and walking back toward the bathroom. When he returned, he looked normal again. He’d even pulled his t-shirt back on.

“So what are you going to do now?” she asked, curious about what else there was to do to pass the time in his cell.

He arched one eyebrow and gestured toward the fork he’d retrieved on their outing earlier. “What do you think?”

She frowned at his curt tone but watched as he went back over to the machine he was putting together out of scavenged parts.

“Oh.”

“Where do you get all that stuff anyway?” she asked after a long silence.

Still focused on his work, Cain didn’t glance over as he answered. “You saw me.”’

“I know you get them from around the Hold. But how did they get here? Surely prisoners aren’t allowed to bring wire and gears and all that with them.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a minute Riana didn’t think he was going to reply at all. Then he said slowly, “To keep up the pretense of treating prisoners humanely, the Coalition distributes supplies every couple of months. That’s where the towels, the bedding, and the dishes come from. Sometimes they send down other things too. It just depends what kind of surplus they have on hand.”

Riana thought about that for a minute. “Distribute? Does that mean they dump the supplies in big heap and leave everyone to fight about who gets them?”

“Yep.” Cain was fiddling with a piece of metal. She couldn’t begin to guess what the metal used to be.  “A couple of years ago, they tried to move to individual replicators for prisoners’ meals instead of the feeding-trough method they use now. But that idea didn’t last long.”

“Don’t tell me. The replicators were taken apart and made into weapons.”

Cain gave a brief nod. “Evidently, in less than a week. At least, that’s what I’m told. The guards made a gesture at confiscating the parts but most of them are still around in one form or another.”

 Obviously, Cain had scavenged many of those parts for his ungainly device.

“How did you learn how to put things together like that?” She nodded toward his device.

He shrugged. “You pick things up. I had a piece-of-junk transport that always needed fixing.”

She thought about that. People didn’t own transports—even junky ones—unless they traveled a lot from planet to planet. Maybe he’d been a smuggler, and that was how he’d ended up in prison.

 

She watched him for several minutes while she tried to enjoy the physical satisfaction of the aftermath of her orgasms and tried to ignore the crude comments that occasionally drifted her way from outside the cell.

When it was clear Cain had nothing more to say, she sniffed and stretched out on the bed. “I guess I’ll take another nap.”