You have a lot less time than you think.

I’m on my knees, fishing under the mattress for the garments I’ve hidden while Rage’s words play over and over again in my mind. She wouldn’t tell me why she thought I had less time, but whatever the reason, it’s time to try out Dr. Ida’s last tip for surviving captivity.

Seduction.

Smoke wants me. I saw it in his eyes. I felt it against my back.

It’s all I have to work with. A hope. A feeling.

Smoke was only gone for a few hours. Rage left shortly after Smoke came back. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since. He’s colder than before. If Rage was right and Smoke named the bacon, then maybe, he’s trying to place distance between us. Or maybe, it’s simpler than that and he doesn’t want to be around me.

I’m nervous, shaking all over as I take a shower and scrub my skin with a washcloth until it’s smooth. I towel dry and brush my hair, then shave and groom using the electric razor I find under the sink. I dress quickly and look in the mirror, adjusting where necessary.

My pulse is pounding in my ears as I give myself a once over. It’s only been three days since I jumped from the car, but I’ve always been a fast healer. My bruises have mostly faded except for the scrapes on my right arm, which are scabbed over.

It’s the best I can do with what I’ve got.

But will it be enough?

I take a deep breath and push open the bedroom door. I find Smoke sitting on the couch with his arms stretched over the top, a cigar in his mouth. A bottle of whiskey at his feet. He looks deep in thought. His legs spread. His arms resting across the back of the couch.

There’s a radio in the corner playing “Take it Out on Me” by Florida Georgia Line.

“I like this song,” I say to get Smoke’s attention.

Smoke turns his head toward me and freezes, cigar halfway to his full lips. His eyes widen as he takes me in, looking me up and down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks between gritted teeth. He’s angry. His vein pulses under his neck tattoo. His nostrils flare.

I let his anger fuel my determination, and I walk with as much confidence as I can muster into the center of the room wearing only a sheer black bra that pushes my breasts up and amplifies my cleavage, along with a matching pair of sheer panties, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“What?” I ask, feigning innocence. I look down at my body. “You don’t like the way I look?” I’m teasing him, or at least I’m trying to. The fire blazing in his eyes tells me that I’m either doing it very right or very wrong. It doesn’t matter. I can’t give up now.

I sway my hips from side to side, hooking my thumbs in the sides of my panties.

“What are you trying to prove, hellion?” Smoke rasps. His pupils dilate.

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say, leaning over I pluck the cigar from his hand and take a puff before placing it in the ashtray on the end table.

Smoke clears his throat and shakes his head. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing,” he grates. His eyes linger on the scrap of fabric between my legs then travel up to my breasts where my nipples pebble under his gaze.

“I think I do,” I say in the seductive tone I’d practiced in the bathroom earlier.

“Such big words for such a little girl,” Smoke drawls.

“I’m not a little girl!” I shout, taking a step forward, before reminding myself of what I was trying to do and freezing.

Smoke smiles, knowing he’s gotten to me. “What exactly are you playing at here, little girl? ‘Cause no matter what happens,” he grabs the whiskey off the floor and tips it to his mouth. He swallows and sets it back down, licking his lips. “You’re gonna lose.”

That’s what you think.

I don’t answer. Because I’m focused on his full lips. The way his tongue darts out to catch a falling drop of whiskey.

Shit, get it together, Frankie.

“You might be twenty-two, but all I see is innocence. You ever been fucked before, hellion? ‘Cause, I’m betting on no.”

“Does it matter?” I ask, running my fingers across my breasts.

My heart is pounding so hard it shakes me the way hard-hitting bass rattles a trunk. I never pictured my first time. There were never enough minutes in the day for myself, never mind for fantasies or daydreams. Even if I had pictured it, attempting to seduce my kidnapper while quaking like the floor beneath me is shifting would probably not have come to mind.

I put on my best smile and unhook my bra with shaking fingers. Slowly, I drop it. He’s watching my every move. When my bra hits the floor, his mouth gapes open, but he quickly corrects himself as if he’s given too much away.

“I’ve seen plenty of naked women before. I’ve seen YOU naked before. You ain’t gonna shock me, hellion.”

“I’m not trying to shock you, Smoke,” I say, dragging out his name on my lips as if I’m enjoying the way it sounds rolling off my tongue.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, little girl,” Smoke warns. “Stop before you lose.”

“So, play it with me,” I say, rubbing circles around my taut nipples with my fingers. The way he watches me makes me want to grab his head and thrust his lips against my breasts. “And we’ll both win.”

“I’m not fucking around. This is your last warning to cut this shit out before you end up in a position you’re going to regret…” His eyelids are heavy. Hooded. “And I’m going to enjoy.”

“I just want to feel good. Don’t you want to feel good?” I snake my hand down into my panties and rub my clit painstakingly slow. I’m supposed to be putting on a show for him, making him want me. It’s supposed to be fake.

Then why am I soaking wet?

“Alright, Hellion,” Smoke smirks wickedly. “You think you can handle it? Then, come the fuck on.”

He unzips his pants and pushes them down far enough to reveal the V underneath. It leads down his trail of abs to a very large bulge straining beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs.

Doubt. Panic. Worry. Unease. Terror. Horror.

They all crash into me at once along with a surge of arousal so strong and so unexpected I stagger on my feet, drunk with it, with lust.

“A fuck is a fuck. It won’t buy your freedom. It ain’t that easy.”

I kneel on the floor and spread my fingers on his hard thighs, hoping he can’t feel me shaking. I smile up at him through my lashes and lick my lips.

He grabs my wrist roughly. “It’s not a fucking joke, little girl. You think you’re smart, and I know there are a lot of motherfuckers out there that will fall for this bullshit, but in case you haven’t noticed, I ain’t like other guys. I can see right through this act of yours. I ain’t buying it. So, I’ll warn you one last time before shit gets real and your pussy is too full of cock and your head too full of regret. You can’t buy your freedom with pussy because your freedom ain’t. For. Sale.”

“It’s not an act,” I lie, defensively. I try to yank my wrist from his grip, but he holds me tighter, his fingernails biting into my flesh.

I gasp.

A current passes between us and I know he feels it, too, because our eyes both drop to where he’s holding me. It runs through my skin then back to his.

Smoke releases me so suddenly I fall back onto the carpet.

“Fine, have it your way. I’m calling your bluff.”

He reaches down and grabs me again, forcing me to stand. He rips my panties down my legs and groans when he sees the wetness on my thighs. He leans back on the couch, arms spread across the cushions. His deep voice lowers to a rumble.

“Take my cock out and ride me,” he orders, his voice low. Rough. Demanding.

Chills dance down my spine. I glance down at the large bulge between his legs and swallow hard.

“I-I…” I stutter. I’d hoped to turn him on, but I never expected to be turned on myself. Plus, I kinda forgot the part where, when it comes down to it, I don’t know what the hell I’m actually doing.

Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Smoke asks, grinning. “Change your mind?”

No, I just don’t know what to do.

I shake my head and try like hell to get a grip on my breathing.

Smoke crooks his finger at me. “Now,” he orders.

I come closer, standing in front of him with my knees against the cushions. He reaches out, grabs me by the waist and sets me on top of him so I’m straddling his large body, my legs spread impossibly wide while his hard bulge nudges my naked entrance from within his boxers.

The current between us sparks again, except this time, it courses straight through to my center. I close my eyes and groan at the sensation. I blink them back open and find Smoke staring at me with both confusion and wonderment.

There’s a shift in the air all around us and right now I imagine that in this moment he’s not my captor and I’m not his captive. He’s just a beautiful hard man and I’m just a lonely girl starving for human contact.

"What…what was that?" I ask. My voice is shaky. My breaths are short. Real true fear and lust break through the mask I’ve been wearing, and I squeeze my thighs around him because I HAVE TO.

Smoke’s mouth falls open. His fingers dig into my hips. He can see it now. He can see me. The real me. I’m both terrified and excited. My skin is flushed. My wetness is soaking through his boxers. He takes my wrists and binds them with his hands behind my back, keeping me in place. He gazes deeply into my eyes like he can see my every thought, my every dream, my every nightmare.

My every lie.

My nipples are impossibly hard. Painfully hard. He blows a breath across them, and I drop my head back at the sensation. He pulls me against him, and when my nipples meet the warm soft skin of his muscular chest, I groan.

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing my hands. I place them on his shoulders. His hands go to my hips again. He moves me. Rocking me against him. His hard cock rubs mercilessly against my clit sending that same electric current zapping over and over again with each glide. My lower stomach tightens.

My thighs flex involuntarily around his muscular thighs, and the groan that leaves his lips vibrates to my very core.

Fuck games, even if I’m the one who started it. Now, I only want more.

So much more.

I want him.

My body can’t lie. My reactions to him are real. Primal. My need is real. The pressure building in my lower stomach threatening to explode is very, very real.

“This is so fucked up,” I whisper.

“Makes it even better,” Smoke says, his lips on my collarbone, his hands on my ass.

I know it’s fucked up. I know it’s wrong. And he’s right. The wrongness of it is only making me want him more. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to do it without ever knowing what it feels like to have a man inside my body.

This man.

This monster.

I’m your monster.

His words echo in my brain.

The pressure is building. Smoke’s muscles flex underneath me, my nipples rub against his chest. My clit is aching. “What…what’s happening?” I ask although I don’t know what it is I’m actually asking.

Smoke’s eyes grow impossibly dark. He drags the pad of his thumb across my lips. "I have no fucking idea," he says, pushing his other hand into my hair. He tugs on the back of my head, pauses for a moment, then presses my lips to his.

A kiss.

Smoke is kissing me. His lips are hard, yet soft. His facial hair tickles my cheeks. His tongue seeks entrance, and when I give it to him, we moan into one another’s mouths while our tongues dance an unfamiliar dance where they already know all the moves. It’s rough and hard and tender and needy. He pulls my hair harder, and the searing pain gives way to even greater pleasure.

I grind myself shamelessly against his lap.

Our connection is like TV static. Loud and confusing. A million buzzing black and white dots flying into each other all at once. It doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t have to. I’m not in control.

And for the first time in my life.

I don’t want to be.

I’ve never felt anything like this.

It feels too good to stop.

Too good to be real.

I’m sure now that I’m not kissing the man who kidnapped me. I don’t have to pretend anymore. Because I really am kissing the man I saw across the street. The one who captured my attention without saying a word.

The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

I’m desperate to give my body to the man who may very well be the one who takes my life.

And right now, I don’t fucking care.

Because in Smoke’s arms, I’ve come alive.

Smoke

I know there’s no limit to what Frankie will do to gain her freedom. As much as I tell her otherwise, I know she’s smart, capable, and I just learned what else she is when she came out into the living room wearing next to nothing.

The girl is cunning as fuck.

She wasn’t waiting for me to toy with her. To mind fuck her past the point of no return. Not when she has a mind-fuck of her own planned.

It’s a show. A scam. I should toss her off me and give her what she doesn’t realize she’s asking for. I should fuck her up her perky little ass without preparing her first and show her that tricks aren’t going to get her anywhere or anything, but truly fucked.

But I don’t. At least not yet. Not when the smell of her fucking wet pussy hits my nostrils and renders me stupid. It’s a mistake to go along with her, but god fucking dammit, mistakes shouldn’t feel this good. I want inside Frankie’s sweet innocent pussy. I want to pound into her with every bit of hatred and desire in my veins.

She’s playing you, and you’re letting her.

Fuck my inner voice. Fuck everything except the here and now. Because in the now, I’ve got a hand threaded through Frankie’s thick, silky mane. I tug on it, and she gasps into my mouth, making my cock jump in response. I deepen the kiss, plunging my tongue into her mouth because I want more of her lush lips and soft tongue.

I’m harder than I’ve ever been. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a piece of ass. I lie to myself. I say that I’m going along with her seduction to teach her a lesson not to toy with me. To show her that I won’t be manipulated, but those thoughts fade as she grinds against my cock with her hot, soaking, wet pussy.

She’s fucking dripping for me.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Frankie hates me. As she should. But trick or not, she wants me. She wants this. Maybe, she didn’t mean to want it, but there’s no mistaking the lust in her eyes. Her gasps of pleasure. The parting of her thick lips I imagine wrapped around my cock, taking me deep into the back of her throat.

My balls tighten. My spine tingles.

I’m downright ravenous for her. Her smell, her taste. Her fucking insubordination.

Her fear.

I want all of her and I want all of me inside of her. I’m going to explore every inch of her perfect body with my mouth, fingers and aching cock. Her nipples are hard and in my face, creating an urgency to dominate her body, her mind, her fucking soul, that’s about to detonate.

I’ve jerked off three times since the shower incident, picturing her ass in the air, her back arched as she leaned against the shower wall.

“I need more,” I groan.

“More?” she asks breathlessly.

I grab her by the waist and dig my fingers into the curve of her hips. I guide her to grind her hot pussy against me harder.

“I need it all,” I rasp.

We’re breathing in each other’s exhales. Devouring each other’s mouths. If the world burned down around us, I wouldn’t notice.

I wouldn’t stop.

I’m hanging on by a fucking thread. Frankie’s mouth tastes sweet, and I wonder how her pussy tastes in comparison. The taste of her I got in the shower has lingered. No matter how much time has passed or how many times I’ve brushed or chugged whiskey, nothing has been able to rid it from my tongue.

The thought causes me to groan into her mouth, and I rock her harder against me. The warmth of her pussy on my lap is like a fucking drug. Stronger and more addictive than blow.

She’s cocaine with legs, and I’m a fucking addict before I’ve even had a taste.

The phone buzzes on the side table. I reach over blindly to shut it off, but I can’t reach it. I lean over to hit the ignore button when I read the words that slam the brakes on this train before it barrels off the tracks and crashes into the motherfucking station.

My brain is still processing the text when another bucket of water is doused over our heads as Zelda enters through the front door carrying a steaming casserole dish.

“Fuck,” Frankie curses, pressing herself up tighter against my body to hide her nakedness.

Zelda doesn’t look the least bit shocked. She places the dish on the counter and looks over at us with an eyebrow raised and a fist on her hip.

“Shit, Rage was right. You really did name the bacon.”