Madison
He’s still gone, but I can smell him. Seriously. His entire bedroom just reeks of him, but it’s not bad. It’s not terrible. It’s fucking lovely, actually. It’s possible – and I’ve never been kidnapped before, so I can’t be quite sure – that it’s not a good idea to masturbate in your captor’s bed. Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t be doing this.
But I can’t.
Fucking.
Help it.
His scent surrounds me, wrapping me in a warm blanket and all I can think about is touching him, kissing him, rubbing my hands all over him. After awhile, once I’m certain no one is in the house, I make myself comfortable on top of his blankets, and I unbutton my jeans, wiggle out of them, and toss them to the floor. I won’t be needing them anymore.
My panties, I leave on for now. If someone comes in and happens to catch me, I don’t want to be caught completely uncovered. Yeah, I could wiggle beneath the blankets on this bed, but something tells me that Mr. Alpha is a little touché when it comes to people messing with his stuff.
I’ll just stay on top.
I slide my hands down to the front of my panties, hooking my thumbs under the waistband. Carefully, slowly, I begin to rub myself with my fingers, and I think of him. I think of the wolf. I think of Bronx.
It’s been days now, but I can’t get him out of my head. My thoughts are completely consumed with worrying about Eva and imagining myself with Bronx. These thoughts are at war with another and I need to figure something out. I need to stop thinking about him. I should.
Thinking about Bronx is no good for me. Imagining him touching me…that’s a terrible idea. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s so wrong, but I can’t help myself.
When I woke up facing him in the woods the other day, I was scared, but I looked at his cock. Oh, I looked at it. It was long and thick and just right there. I didn’t do anything, though. I didn’t react to him. I didn’t go wild for him.
What if I had?
What if I had reached for it?
What would he have done if I had touched him?
Stroked him?
Licked him?
Would he have let me? Would Bronx have let a strange human woman who might be a threat touch his body? He certainly had a reaction to me while we were kissing that day, but this would be different. This would be me reaching out, me wanting him. Is that so wrong?
I feel like I’ve always been the good girl. I’ve always done what was right and reasonable and expected of me, but now…now I wish I had thrown caution to the wind. Now I wish I had been braver in that moment. I shouldn’t have gotten caught up in fear. I should have let my body lead me.
And now that’s what I’m doing. I’m on my back and my legs are spread. I’m facing the door so if anyone comes in, I’ll know. I’ll be able to stop right away. I don’t want to, though. Despite the cuffs and chains, I manage to find a position that makes touching the perfect spot easy, and I rub.
I close my eyes, imagining what it would be like to taste the wolf.
Bronx. His name is Bronx.
What does he taste like? How does he like to be licked? If it were up to me, I’d get on my knees in front of him. I’d drop down when he wasn’t expecting it and reach for him using only my mouth. I’d slide my tongue over his length first. I wouldn’t take him in my mouth right away. Instead, I’d tease him, tantalizing him with my tongue.
Maybe he likes having his balls played with. That’s something I can do, too. I can reach for him, stroking him there, and plant kisses up and down his cock. Then I can take his balls in my mouth, one at a time, and just feel him.
I rub faster as the fantasy completely invades my mind and body. In this fantasy, I’m not bound. In it, I’m free and offering myself up to him willingly. I’m reaching for his ass and pulling him close to me as I finally take his length in my mouth. And I swallow, bringing him deeper inside of me.
And it’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever thought of.
I’m close, and I really should stop, but there’s no turning back now. I know Bronx will never look at me like that, never want to let me blow him, but I want it. I’ve given blowjobs before, but it’s always been sort of an obligation. It’s never been because I wanted to. This time, though, it would be because I wanted to. It would be because he wanted it, too.
This time, it would mean everything.
Suddenly, I hear a squeak.
The door.
Instantly, I pull my hands out of my panties and open my eyes. I’m panting for breath. There’s really no way I can possibly deny or hide what I was doing, and judging by the fire in Bronx’s eyes, he saw more than I ever intended for him to.
“Oh, little human,” he murmurs, stroking his cock. “Don’t stop on my account.”
My eyes move to his hand, which is quickly sliding up and down over his cock. A new wave of excitement and arousal washes over me, and I’m wetter than I’ve ever been before. I should be embarrassed, humiliated, but I’m not. I’m just not. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted everything, and if letting him watch is going to get me an orgasm, then I’m going to do it.
My eyes are locked on his as I slowly move my hands back to where they were.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”
The compliment does something for me.
It fucking shouldn’t.
I’m not a kid: I’m a grown fucking woman.
But when he tells me I’m doing well, when I see that he’s pleased, it just urges me on, and I let out a soft, low groan as I continue rubbing myself: faster this time. I don’t close my eyes as I touch my body. Instead, I watch Bronx jerking himself off at the foot of the bed. He’s not going to touch me, I realize, but I want him to. I so, so want him to.
I would do just about anything if it means he’ll slide his tongue over my hard, little nipples or run his hand up my thigh and over to my pussy.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “You look so fucking beautiful. So damn good. Look how hard you’re making my dick, Madison. Just fucking look.”
And I look.
He’s hard.
So hard.
And it’s all my fault.
I’m a naughty, naughty girl for getting his cock so fucking thick and swollen, and I close my eyes then, and I come. I groan his name as the pleasure washes over me in a thick wave of ecstasy, and I hear Bronx coming at the same time.
Madison.
I swear he whispers my name as he comes, but the word is so silent that it might be my imagination. And then I open my eyes and my gaze locks on his.
Something has changed between us, and suddenly, I’m not feeling quite so brave.