Chapter Five
Mud hung in strings down Stacey’s long blonde hair. Her chest was smeared like a Native American covered in war paint. She was still beautiful and smart. Her camouflage might have worked had Troy not heard her sharp intake of breath thanks to the cottonmouth, bless its viperous heart.
He grabbed her forearm and forced her up the stairs into the cabin and straight into the bathroom. “You’re dirty, girl.”
“Go to hell.”
“You need to get cleaned up.”
“Let me guess. You think you’re just the man to do it,” she said, twisting against his grip, though her efforts were futile.
The metal bathtub had a set of taps below and a shower overhead but no curtain because he liked things simple. “Get in, Stacey.”
“Quit ordering me around.” Her face twisted in anger.
He was too tired and annoyed to fight with her. He grabbed her and deposited her in the bath standing up. “Little fool. You’ve got biting bugs in your hair.”
She cried out in dismay.
“Start washing yourself.” He turned on the bath taps and handed her the flexible shower nozzle.
He strode back to the kitchen counter, snatched up the inhaler, returned to the bathroom and gave it to her. She grabbed it, put it to her mouth, and sucked hard.
“It was stupid to run. Every poisonous, crawling, slithering creature out there is looking to mate this time of year.”
She shoved the inhaler back into his hand. “You fit in well, then.”
He put the inhaler down on the bathroom bench. Despite her sassy mouth, he could see desperation in her eyes. She was trapped. And cruel as it was beautiful, it gave him a sense of satisfaction to own a butterfly. “I like my women clean. Give me the shower nozzle.”
“Clean? Hah! I thought bikers went with hoes.”
“That’s not nice, Stacey. I don’t think of you as a ho.”
He took hold of the shower nozzle and sprayed it over her back, stroking away the dirty smears, reverently, as if she were a work of art. Which she kind of was. Her skin was soft and sweet, colored like a vanilla milkshake that he’d like to suck on.
He followed up with soap, washing it over her shoulder blades to get the stink of the bog off. He couldn’t bear it staining her perfection. As his fingers traced over the delicate nodules of her spine, goose bumps rose around her rib cage and, if he didn’t know better, he’d say she was enjoying him touching her.
She wiggled as he stroked her bottom, responding to his lingering touch. He bet she’d writhe when he sucked on her clit.
“Where’d you plan to run in the dark?” he casually asked.
“Away from you.” She glanced back at him, her face wary.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. Again.
“You’re going to hurt Brian. I have to try and save him.”
“You’re not his keeper.” Troy gave her a wry look. “What are you really afraid of?”
“Sex. With. You.”
He grinned at the thought of that. She had an awed look in her eyes when she said the words. Maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided. “I’ll make sure you want it.”
“I won’t,” she shot back, clearly eyeing the boner in his jeans.
He knew a lie when he heard it. He soaped his right palm under the tap then slid it between her thighs, the ridge of his thumb brushing against her folds. “Yeah, you will. You’re already soft and slippery. Wouldn’t take much to make you come.”
She slapped away his hand. “Is this your normal behavior?” She rolled her shoulders as he rose and pushed her long hair away from her neck.
He grinned even though she couldn’t see it. “Define normal.”
“Kidnapping women.”
“More rewarding than kidnaping men.” He massaged her shoulders because he loved touching her, feeling her birdlike bones under her silky skin.
She turned and met his eyes. “You snatched me like a professional. You’ve done it before.”
Damn, the woman was astute. “That right?”
“You’re military.”
He looked at her with respect. She’d nailed it in one, even though his hair was longer so he’d fit in with the Arabs. How the hell did she do that? Or maybe her brother had said something.
She swallowed. “Do you plan to punish me for running?”
He tipped his head. “Do you want me to? I could put you over my knee. Some women get off on that.” Fuck, he was rock-hard at the thought.
She turned away. “As if.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I can think of plenty of interesting ways to pass the time while we wait to swap you.”
“I have a business to run. One of Dad’s people is stealing from the shop. I can’t spend time caged up here with you, fulfilling your pathetic sex fantasies.”
“Then your brother had better play ball and return Lizzie quick.”
“If he does, you’ll let me go? Just like that?” This time, she turned, her wide blue eyes doubtful.
God, she was beautiful. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Everything about her was perfect. Her figure. Her breasts. Not big. Just a handful. He wanted to lean forward and lick her nipples. Instead, he washed over her shoulders, his big hands hovering just above her breasts. “Sure. No reason to keep you here.”
“Oh.” Her mouth was round and pink. It would look like that just before she took his cock in.
“Disappointed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
With a chuckle, he moved the faucet head down to her breasts.
She skittered backward, though her nipples were tight. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”
Raw lust zinged through him like a bolt of lightning. “There’s one bed, and you’ll be in it.” He’d be getting no rest, anyway, on account of the painful hard-on no amount of beating off could ease. He moved his hand down her flat tummy, washing off the muddy streaks, and her eyes drifted closed.
“You scare me…but you confuse me, too,” she said in the tone of a confession.
“How so?” he asked.
“You were so kind to Dad. You helped Brian, and you’re so gentle when you touch me. What kind of man are you, really?”
The kind of man who wanted to fuck her.
“You like me touching you, princess?” He moved his hand to her mons and stroked over her downy pubes, resisting sliding his fingers between her legs.
“I don’t like being scared.” She squeezed her legs together.
“Would you have come with me here if I’d explained the situation about your brother?” He moved his hand to her thighs.
She studied him. “Hell, no. You’re dead wrong about Brian. I would have called the police.”
“That’s why I snatched you. But I’ll make it up to you for scaring you.” He itched to plunge his fingers into her.
Her cheeks turned pink. “How?” It was almost as if she was daring him to…what? Touch her? Fuck her? Be her boyfriend?
Christ. This was not going in a direction he cared for. He wasn’t planning to stick around after he got Lizzie back, much less spend time with Stacey. Besides, he had a job that men didn’t come back from, so he wasn’t stupid enough to get involved, even superficially. “I’ll work something out,” he muttered.
“You’re clearly loving this,” she challenged, pushing his hovering hand away from her sex. “But you’re wasting your time.”
“You’re like a beautiful doll, princess.” The words had left his lips before he could stop them.
“I’m no dolly.” She flashed him a glare.
“Yeah. I worked that out when you kicked me. Nice move. Don’t do it again.” He put the shower nozzle down and stood. He cursed himself for being caught out.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll have to restrain you, and I don’t want to deal with another asthma attack. You’re not tough, so don’t fight me. Sit down, princess.”
“I’m not a princess, either.” Nevertheless, she sat.
“Sure, you’re not.”
She gave out an exasperated breath and stared up at him. She picked up the shower head. “You want me to finish myself off?”
Yeah. He’d like that. He’d like to see her put her hands between her legs and spray water on her clit until she was coming.
“I meant clean the last of the mud off,” she said between gritted teeth.
“I know what you meant. Give your hair another rinse.” He went and grabbed the shampoo and conditioner from the bathroom cupboard and pulled a chair up so he could sit, because squatting was damned uncomfortable with a hard-on.
“I can wash my own hair.”
“Yeah. I know. But I want to.”
She tilted her head, assessing him. “You like me, don’t you?”
He studied her right back. God this woman was a challenge. “I’m not going there.”
“What’s the matter? You afraid?”
“Why did I have to kidnap a talker? Tilt your head back.” He rinsed the rest of the muck out of her hair before squirting shampoo onto her scalp. She was fair right to her roots. Hell, every pube on her sex was blonde and soft as her head hair.
He kneaded in the shampoo and rinsed it out, twice, following it up with conditioner. She was right about one thing, he did like touching her. Somehow, in the craziness of her kidnap, washing her relieved the tension that rode him like a monkey on his back. He knew if he fucked her, he’d sleep like the dead afterward—something he hadn’t done since he’d come home from the op two weeks ago.
Whenever he closed his eyes after a special-forces job, he didn’t sleep well. His internal vision was too full of the destruction of his work. The last job had been fucking shit—mire that sat uncomfortably on his soul and left him wondering if he even had one.
Stacey was clean and perfect, and he wanted to hang onto that like a lifeline, even if it was only for a few days. He hadn’t lost sight of his mission. If she knew where Animal was hiding, he had to get the information. Fast.
She closed her hand over his. “I want to know that, whatever happens, you have the control not to harm me. Because you can’t seem to keep your hands off me.”
“Open your legs, and you’ll find out how controlled I can be.” He picked up the soap that sat on the bottom of the bathtub and began to make small circles over the tops of her thighs
After a moment’s hesitation, she opened her legs. “What’s your real name?”
Fire exploded in his brain. He was too lost in looking at her pussy with its pretty pink frills to drag his gaze up to her eyes and answer.
She reached out and tilted his chin up. “I’m talking to you.”
“It’s Beast.”
She snapped her legs shut. “Fine. Have it your way.” She tried to take the soap from him, but he held his hand up out of her reach.
Having a woman as his prisoner was more fun than dealing with men…but dangerous in a way he’d never experienced. Damn, he was relishing her sassiness, and the fact she’d recovered from her terror so fast. That took real guts.
“You want to do something as intimate as wash me,” she said, “you can tell me your real name.”
“No. You’re not my girlfriend. You’re my prisoner, at least until I’ve exchanged you.” His gut was tight, and his balls were aching. He didn’t know why he gave a shit about his stupid name.
“Your prisoner? I know you’re attracted to me.”
“I’m not made of stone.” She was getting under his skin, and he wanted to bury himself in her.
She raised her eyebrows. “Listen, tough guy. This might not be personal to you, but it is to me. You’re seeing me at my most vulnerable.”
So, there she was, sitting in his bath, her long blonde hair a tangle over her shoulders, her pink nipples showing, giving him sass by closing her legs on the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen. What a fucking siren. Who was playing whom?
“I could open your legs,” he said.
“But you said you wouldn’t hurt me. I want to believe you’re a man of your word. Especially since you’re a military man.”
“I never told you I’m military. What are you, a fucking psychic?”
“My stepdad’s in the forces. You’ve served. I can tell.” She scooped water up and washed the mud from her feet and ankles.
He’d like to have her writhing under him, and if that meant he had to give her a shard of information about himself, it would be worth it.
“It’s Troy,” he muttered.
He could give up his name, but he didn’t expect to give up anything else.
He watched the dirty water swirl down the drain, wondering how to manage this. Okay, she was toying with him, but he was appreciating it…in a weird, blue-ball type of way. Certainly better than he would tying her up and gagging her for the next few days. Being with such a beautiful woman after coming out of Syria was like taking a vacation from hell.
She lay back in the bath and opened her knees wide, obviously taunting him. “So, Troy, do you have a girlfriend?”
“No. No time.” Hell, he didn’t want to talk. He moved the soap down to her mons and rinsed her off with the nozzle. She gazed at him with those sweet baby blues as he stroked her pussy lips on the pretense of cleaning her. But they both knew she didn’t need it.
He wanted to bury his face in her and smell her musk. That was what being in the forces did to a man. Made him desperate. Some guys were squeamish when it came to eating pussy, but not him.
Her sex was soft, and so was the silky hair that covered it, just as he thought it would be. It was the type of pussy he could lap at for hours. But his brain was doing battle with his dick. Because after he’d done his job and gotten Lizzie back, he’d head to the club to hang out with the guys, and he’d never think about Stacey again.
He grazed his thumb over her clit and watched to see if she reacted.
She rolled her hips and moaned, her pretty mouth forming an O.
“You’re a gorgeous guy. You must have a girlfriend,” she said with a breathiness he appreciated immensely. He went to insert his index finger into her, but she snapped her legs shut on his hand.
He grunted his disappointment.
“Talk to me, Troy. I want to get to know you. “
He tried to focus on the thought that Animal had Lizzie. This situation was not supposed to be about pleasure, but Stacey had managed to get herself filthy, and now he was full of thoughts as dirty as the mud.
He didn’t like losing his focus.
“Why would you want to get to know your kidnapper?” he asked.
“Because he’s touching my pussy, and I don’t let just any man do that. My stepdad was ridiculously strict. But I have to say, he was right about my last boyfriend being a jerk. Broke my heart.”
“Huh?” Troy tried not to care. Why should he? Still, he didn’t like the idea of some asshole hurting her. “How?”
When she talked, her thighs relaxed. He didn’t move his hand away. In fact, he managed to slide his thumb up to press on her clit.
She sighed and closed her eyes as he moved his thumb lightly over her clit. “Oh, that’s good.”
“It’s going to get a lot better.” She was too tight to slide his index finger in unless she opened her thighs. He wanted her to open them. Every fucking cell in his horny, male body wanted her to.
“You asked me about my ex.”
“I did?” He couldn’t remember asking. All he wanted was to fuck her.
“He was a liar, telling me how much he loved me. Insisted I give him head all the time.”
That got Troy’s attention. “Did you like doing that?”
“Not much. He took my virginity, then went back to his girlfriend. Guess I wasn’t very good at it.”
She could be trained to be damn fuckable. “Want me to kill him for you?”
She opened her eyes, took one look at his serious intent, and laughed. “Of course not. Tell me one thing about you.”
He shrugged. “My work takes me away.” What could he tell her? He was an army-trained killer. His first three years in the army had been basic enlistment, followed by studying mechanical engineering, and then special operations, which had turned him into a killing machine.
A dirty assassin. And damn good at his job. Yeah, that would go down well.
Nope. Not going there. Not while sunshine lay in front of him and he could bathe in it.
She slipped away from his hand and stood, the water streaming off her. Damn, she was hot, bursting with an alluring combination of sassiness and innocence, her face and body not worn down by life like the women who hung out with the brothers.
She held herself well, now that she wasn’t terrified. At least talking to her had put her at ease.
“Am I clean enough for you now?”
He smiled. “Clean enough to corrupt.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He chuckled. “Turn around.”
She did as he asked. She had nice rounded butt cheeks, the kind a man could grab hold of with both hands while thrusting into her. He hosed the last remaining soap suds off her, turned off the taps, and grabbed a towel off the rail. “Hold your hair off your back.”
He started to dry her, rubbing her down, not missing any drops.
“I can dry myself,” she said, looking back at him.
“I’m doing this my way.” He dried under her hair, down the groove of her back, turning her with one hand so he could start on her front.
“What would you normally be doing right now?”
He breathed in deep, savoring her fragrance. “Working in the club’s bike mechanic shop.”
“That’s not a vacation.”
“Who said I’m on vacation? Open your legs.”
“You say that a lot to me.”
He grinned. She was right.
“Oh my God, the scary man smiled.”
She squealed as he rubbed between her thighs, sliding his thumb along her inner lips. She was wet. That couldn’t be faked. “How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-one. How old are you?”
“Six years older than you.”
She was a young twenty-one. And he? Well, he’d already been old at seventeen when he signed on with the army. In ten years of service, he’d seen more death than any man had a right to. Which was why he was currently considering other options. His stint was over soon. He didn’t have to re-up…though the financial incentive to do so was high.
Until now, the army had been his whole way of life. But he wanted…more. More what? Hell, he didn’t know. But he damned sure wasn’t going back to killing, that much he knew. Guarding Stacey was giving him a breather while he worked it out.
A far more pleasant interlude, now she’d settled down.
She took the towel from him and, to his extreme disappointment, wrapped it around herself. “Why can’t I sleep on the lounge?”
“You’re a flight risk.”
Her fine eyebrows raised. “I can’t sleep in the same bed as you.”
“Who said you had a choice?” He shepherded her from the bathroom and opened his bedroom door.
She padded in, pushed on the queen-sized bed as if testing it for comfort, then pulled back the sheets to inspect them. He knew they were spotless.
Clean. Orderly. Merciless. That was him.
So, why did it bother him, what she wanted?
“Up to your standards, princess?” He pulled off his hoodie, and his black T-shirt came off with it, leaving him in just his jeans, the semi-automatic in its waistband holster, and his boots. He rubbed his chin, feeling his five-o’clock shadow, which was becoming more of a beard.
“You’re carrying?” Her eyes widened as she looked him up and down.
“I’m the club enforcer when I’m home.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she muttered.
Most brothers were tattooed, but he wasn’t. Part of his spec ops brief was to blend in. Tats would automatically out him as a Westerner. Wearing a keffiyeh, he was dark enough to look the part of a native Syrian.
She looked from him to the bed, and he knew trepidation—and indecision—when he saw it. She’d liked what he did for her in the bath. Did she even know what real foreplay was? What it was like to have a man’s tongue thrust inside her?
What it was like to have her clit teased and sucked on?
He had to remind himself why she was here. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her all night, but that wasn’t what this job was about. He undid his holster and locked his semi-automatic away in his bedroom cupboard, unzipped his jeans and let them drop to the floor. Hell, he’d probably break her if he let his lust loose.
“Get into bed,” he ordered, his sexual frustration surfacing. “It’s late, and I need sleep.”
Her gaze dropped to the hard-on tenting his boxers. There was no way of hiding it. “How are you going to sleep with that?”
“How about you relax me?” he suggested.
He strode over, pressed her hard against the wall, and kissed her. She kept her lips closed, and her eyes were wide open.
But there was no denying him. He bit her lip.
She gasped, and he slid his tongue in, taking full advantage. He could sense her body surrendering as he played at mating with her, preparing her up for what was to come. It was clear that she had little experience, and it would be easy to coax her into whatever he wanted. He knew how to kiss.
He knew how to fuck.
What he didn’t know was how to love or trust outside his tight-knit club. And he never would.
Her arms went around the back of his neck, and she made little breathy sounds as she tentatively responded with baby-step kisses.
Her towel dropped to the floor. Her skin was warm and fresh. Pressed hard against his chest, he could feel her tight, pebbled nipples, so he stroked her breast, playing with her sensitive tip.
This girl clearly hadn’t experienced a great fucking, and she should before she settled down with a boring, suitable husband. She’d like what he could do for her. But he needed to be careful. He didn’t want a love-sick fawn mooning over him. She’d be out of his life for good in a couple of days if he got the answers he needed.
He pulled back and cupped her face in his palms. Her cheeks were warm and her eyes bright. “How about you help me unwind by telling me where Animal is hiding out? Then I can get my sister and send you home safe and sound.”
She froze, her eyes narrowing as it dawned on her he’d been stringing her along. “You think you can soften me up with a kiss? I’m not stupid, you manipulative asshole. I told you, I didn’t know. Do you think I want to be stuck here not knowing which is safer—you or that deadly snake?”
He laughed. “That’s easy. The snake.”
“Bastard.” She raked her nails down his face, drawing blood.
He didn’t move back, nor did he try to stop her.
She slapped him, again and again, the blows stinging his cheeks. She kicked out and tried pushing him away. Pressed up hard against the wall, she couldn’t do much harm. He let her wear herself out. Besides, he almost believed her now when she said she didn’t know where Animal was hiding out.
She kicked at his shin and howled in pain.
He met her furious gaze. “What’s the matter? Break your toe? Want me to kiss it better, little girl?”
“I want you to die.”
She went to slap him again, but he caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, but not hard enough to hurt her. He was such a war-weary animal, he relished every strike, every blow from this young, healthy woman.
“I’m trained to withstand torture,” he told her with a smile.
Compared to his real work, it was like playing with a kitten.
Pain made him feel alive, and he could have entertained himself with her all night, but he had other plans. He needed to get her in a more compliant mood.
She was a civilian, so it wasn’t like he could force an answer of out her using violence or threats. Besides, he didn’t like dealing roughly with women…even if some he had come across were deadlier than the men.
God, she was beautiful. He bent down and licked her nipples so they tightened into cherry rosebuds. Idly, he wondered if she could be induced to have nipple orgasms. She grabbed his hair to pull him away with her free hand as he laved her tits.
Eventually, the pressure of her fingers gripping his hair lessened. A soft moan left her lips. Time to release her other hand.
This wasn’t an equal playing field. Stacey was young, innocent, and sweet, stuck in a hideaway with him, in trouble for something she didn’t do.
He owed her pleasure.
He dropped to his knees and parted her folds, breathing in deep, savoring her sweet scent. She smelled of soap and a light woman’s musk. Her gorgeous pussy was such a treat. He licked along the seam of her inner lips so they parted. He circled her clit with his tongue, and she gasped, her hips jerking.
When he looked up, there was surprise in her eyes. “No one’s done this to you before?” he asked in astonishment.
She gave a quick shake of her head. “I never trusted anyone enough.”
He stilled. “But you trust me?”
“You helped us with Dad when he was dying. That meant something. I’ll never forget it.” She put her hands on his shoulders and moved her legs apart. “You’re a bastard, but I trust you not to hurt me. I know under that scary biker persona, you’re a good man. That’s as far as it goes.”
Perfect. He could work with that.
“I won’t hurt you.” He didn’t want any more than physical trust. He wasn’t crossing over that line. Even if he liked her. A lot. And she obviously had a crush on him. A silly, girly crush. She should know better. He’d fuck her and leave.
Even if, yeah, he’d miss her when he let her go.