Chapter Fourteen
Harley
With a moan of surrender, Harley’s hands drifted up to cup her breasts through the tee shirt fabric. She captured her nipples and rolled them in slow circles, tightening her grip until it stung, until it felt like the way he’d touched her, that son of a bitch.
She hated him.
She would gladly walk over his dead body if it were the only way out of this cell, but she still wanted him, too. She wanted him hard and ugly and fierce, both of them surrendering to lust and contempt in equal measure.
Her hate and her lust fed on each other, like fire and kindling, burning hotter until her nerves crackled with electricity. Her breath grew faster and her thighs grew damp, but she continued to torment her nipples, building the need swelling inside of her until the music faded away and all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and her body crying out for release.
Until she could imagine it was Clay’s fingers pinching and tugging at her sensitive flesh, Clay’s hand smoothing down her fluttering belly, Clay’s voice rough in her ear as he worked her closer to the edge.
“This is what you want.” His fingers drove between her legs, shoving in and up, hitting that place deep inside of her that made her cry out. “You want me to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. Until you forget that you were ever anything but my whore.”
“I’m not your whore,” she said, lifting into his hand in spite of herself. His touch just felt so fucking good, so bad, so the opposite of long numb days spent staring at the same bare walls. “Whores get paid, asshole.”
“You’ll get paid.” He ripped her boxers down her legs before spreading her wide, his thumbs digging into her thighs as he bared her shamefully wet pussy. “Give me what I want and I’ll let you go.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, her words ending in a shudder as he settled between her thighs, trapping his rigid cock between their bodies.
Fuck. He was so hard and hot and she wanted him so much. She wanted his tongue fucking her mouth and his teeth bruising her flesh and his cock stroking between her legs, making her come so hard it felt like her cells were in the midst of a nuclear reaction.
She arched her back, pressing her breasts tighter to his chest as she squirmed her hips, trying to fit their bodies together.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe me.” His breath was warm on her neck as he rocked his hips, just once, making her moan as his hardness rubbed against her clit. “What you think, what you feel, what you want—none of it matters. All that matters is that you tell me what I need to know. Give in, Harley. Make it easy on both of us.”
She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood, fighting the urge to grind against him, but it was so hard. She craved friction, movement, and the stretch of her inner walls as Clay rammed inside of her. She’d been with men who were longer, but never anyone thicker than Clay. Even when she’d been dripping wet and he was trying to be gentle, there had been times when they’d been a tight fit, when it had hurt for those first few strokes until her body adjusted to his girth.
Now, as he positioned himself and pressed just the thick head of his cock inside her, a gasp escaped her lips without her permission. He was so big, so swollen, dipping in and out of her entrance until the sting of the initial penetration became a hunger for more.
She lifted her hips, trying to force him deeper, but he captured them in his big hands, pinning her to the mattress.
“This is all you get.” He rocked his hips, slow and shallow, making her breath come faster and her neglected clit buzz with the need for stimulation. “If you want more, you know what you need to do. Tell me where Jasper is.”
“I’m not telling you shit,” she ground out. “You’ll give in and fuck me, sooner or later. You want this as much as I do.”
“You’re right,” he said, grunting softly as he continued his torment. “I do want you. But I can get what I need without you getting off.” His hands came to her nipples, pinching them in time to his too-shallow thrusts, driving her even further out of her mind. “I can make sure you never come again if I want to. All I have to do is tie your hands and legs to the bed and watch you squirm.”
“Stop,” she begged, even as she lifted into his thrusts, taking advantage of the fact that his hands were busy elsewhere. His cock slid deeper, but still not deep enough, not nearly deep enough. She needed all of him, every inch of his thickness pounding between her legs.
“Stop?” He pulled out, summoning a ragged cry of protest from her lips.
“No! Please. Don’t stop.”
“Which is it? Stop or don’t stop?” His hand dropped to his cock, tugging the swollen length with rough strokes of his hand.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, her fingers fisting in the sweat-damp sheets, refusing to let herself reach for him. “Fuck me, you piece of shit.”
“If you want me to fuck you, you know what to do,” he said, batting her hand away when she tried to reach down and take care of herself, his own rhythm never faltering as he jerked himself closer to the edge. “Tell me where Jasper is.”
“No!” Her thighs writhed on either side of his hips, the tension inside of her swelling bigger, bigger until her pelvis was flooded with heat. She was close, so fucking close despite his refusal to give her what she needed.
She was about to come, about to tumble over the edge screaming.
All she needed was one touch, light fingers between her legs or the tip of his cock brushing against her clit, and she would explode. She was almost there, almost there, so close she could—
“Get up.” The harsh voice crackling through the speakers startled her, shocking her back to the world of her cell and the reality of her own fingers driving in and out of her dripping pussy.
She pulled her hand swiftly from between her legs, shame at being caught washing through her even as another part of her delighted in the silence that filled the room.
The song was gone.
The song was gone and she was immediately stronger. Strong enough to smile as she realized that she’d finally gotten a reaction from her captor. Clay had broken his silence and the reason why was abundantly clear. She had the upper hand for the first time in God only knew how long and she intended to make use of it.
“Just a second,” she said, letting her hand slide back beneath the waistband of the boxers as her other hand pushed her shirt up, baring her breast.
She moaned as her head fell back and her fingers resumed their work between her legs and at her sensitized nipple. “This won’t take long. Oh my God, right there. Just like that. I’m so close, so wet.”
There was no response, but Harley didn’t let that stop her. She knew Clay was watching, listening, wanting. If she could get him thinking with his cock long enough to open the door to the cell, she might have another chance to escape.
“Don’t you wish you were here,” she said, wiggling the boxers lower on her hips, giving him a better view of her fingers teasing at her swollen clit. “I’m so ready. You could be balls deep in a few seconds, you son of a bitch.”
She closed her eyes, imagining him in front of a monitor, watching her touch herself and losing the battle against coming to join her. His cock would be hard, hot, straining the zipper of his pants and his balls aching with the need for release. Or maybe he would already have his cock in hand, jerking himself while he watched her writhe on her cot, quickly realizing that fucking his own hand wasn’t going to be enough.
“I hate you.” She transferred her attention to her other breast. “But I want you again. I want to fuck you until we’re both bruised. I want you to take me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Wouldn’t you like that, baby? To fuck me that hard?”
Harley’s fingers moved faster between her legs, even as her orgasm moved out of reach. She wanted Clay to think she was on the verge of coming, to believe she was incapable of making any sudden movements.
And then the second he opened that door, she would be up and out.
She moaned and arched her back, panting as she plucked harder at her nipple, putting on a good show as she slit her eyes and checked the position of her untouched lunch tray. It was still right beside the door. It didn’t weigh much, but if she brought it down on Clay’s head with all her strength, it might be enough to disorient him long enough for her to shut the door, locking him inside his own prison.
And then she would leave him here. Leave him to starve to death while she made her way back to Jasper.
The thought was so sweet that her womb tightened again, but she pushed the sensation away. She needed release of a different kind right now, and Clay was about to give it to her.
She heard footsteps outside the door and then soft beeping as he punched numbers into the pad on the door. She fought to keep up her pretense until the perfect moment.
She bit her lip, plunging her fingers in and out of her dripping channel as her muscles tensed, preparing to run like hell the second she saw a glimpse of the outside world.
In three, two…