Falcon's Captive. Vonna Harper
slowed, and she no longer found it so difficult to swallow. Her momentary fright confused her because even though right now only she and her captor shared this area, she suspected that the Falcon who’d been watching earlier was on his way to Raptor’s Craig to tell the others. Maybe instead of just waiting and watching, her kind would defend her, find a way to free her.
Maybe they’d kill her captor—unless his arrows found them first.
“I didn’t expect you to say what you did, that’s all,” she admitted, her tone as unemotional as possible. “If you’ve never been tied up, you can’t comprehend what I’m going through.”
His hold on her chin let up. The way his fingers now moved, she almost believed he was trying to soothe away whatever discomfort he’d caused her. The man confused her. Maybe that’s what had been behind her irrational fear.
“You’re right,” he said and turned his attention to her useless ankle. “No one has ever done anything like this to me. I’d hate it, and whoever did it to me.” He continued to regard her. “Do you have a name?”
“Do I—of course!” she snapped, recalling that he’d already asked the question. Damn him for lightly running his fingers over her anklebone and calf! She could barely think.
“What is it?”
She wasn’t going to tell him; revealing something so personal would take what existed between them in a direction she didn’t want. But if he didn’t call her by name, he might think of her as “slave,” and that was even worse.
To her surprise, he didn’t demand a response. Instead, he studied her deeply bent leg and barely concealed cunt. His eyes were like fire against her skin, somehow touching tissues that had never felt this alive or vulnerable. Much as she wanted him to know how wrong he was to call her kind “Wildings,” much as she needed to see awe and disbelief and pain and even fear in his eyes, she needed other things from him even more.
“Don’t look at me like that!”
“Haven’t you figured it out? What you do or don’t want doesn’t matter. I’m in control, not you.”
Not once I’m free. Although she was tempted to warn him, she didn’t. Let him discover for himself what he’d begun when he’d captured her. Before she was done with him, he’d regret having ever seen, let alone touched her.
“You think you’ve won something by not speaking?” he demanded, his scrutiny increasing. “You haven’t. And to make sure you understand—”
Before she could begin to guess what he had in mind, he grabbed her free ankle and bent her knee forward toward her belly. She fought him, of course, but all too soon, he’d forced her heel against her thigh. He only grunted when she cursed him, only held on as she struggled against his greater strength. All too soon, she was drenched in sweat and exhausted. Still, she continued to try to straighten her leg. She refused to ask herself what he had in mind, and although he was looking into her eyes now, she resolutely didn’t return his stare.
When she had no choice but to rest her head on the ground and pant, he closed in on her until he’d anchored her leg under his knee. With both hands free, he turned his attention to caressing her thighs, buttocks, and belly. She had no doubt what he was doing: proving his superiority. More than that, he was giving her an unforgettable lesson in how much he understood about her body.
Once again she went from loathing everything about him to anticipation. His fingers, although rough, were also gentle. He knew exactly how much pressure was needed to keep from tickling her and used his knowledge to slowly work his way through her resistance.
He toyed with her navel, first filling it with his thumb pad and then his knuckle. When he did, she jumped and shuddered, not that it changed anything. He repeatedly focused on her navel, but when he wasn’t there, his fingers slid over her belly to what he could reach of her pussy.
Maybe he was only pretending he couldn’t penetrate her opening so she’d be forced to wait. To anticipate. To silently cry out.
But what did she want? To be free of him or something—intimate?
He no longer had to force her leg up by her belly; surely he realized he’d stripped resistance from her. Surely he knew, what, everything?
Despite her determination to resist and rebel, she went limp and weak under him. The closer he came to her core, the harder it was to wait for that exciting and terrifying moment. Sensations swirled through her, some she’d experienced before, others beyond her comprehension. Nothing about her body still belonged to her but not just because he’d robbed her of the use of her limbs. It wasn’t that simple.
When he rested the side of a finger along her labial lips, she tried to rest with him so she’d have the strength for what came next. Tried and failed. He was under control, damn him. In contrast, she was flying into tiny fragments. At the same time, her thoughts drifted back to when she’d been in the lake. Probably because of the poison raging through her system, she remembered only bits and pieces. Most of her memories centered around sinking beneath the surface.
Until she’d summoned up the strength to close it, water had threatened to fill her mouth. Even as she’d taken comfort in her small victory, she’d acknowledged the water around her eyes and drifting through her hair. The sinking sensation.
She was drifting now, floating, surrounded and supported by something without end. A magnificent and powerful force touched every inch of her being and, even though that force frightened her, she wanted nothing else. The past faded into nothing, and the present swarmed around her. She was lost. Sinking down.
Forceful hands on her shoulders pulled her back to reality. Before she could fully center herself in the here and now, however, her captor flipped her onto her belly. The leg he’d bent against her belly was now caught under her weight, and the ground flattened her breasts. Tugging uselessly at her bonds, she lifted her head and looked behind her. Yes, there he was, still looming over her. Still controlling her world.
Then he ran his hand along her ass crack and from there to her sex, and she understood why he’d done what he had. Her earlier vulnerability paled in comparison to this.
“You’re beautiful,” he muttered. “I never thought I’d think that of a Wilding, but you are beautiful.”
His hand hadn’t moved but, with a finger resting against her entrance, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t think how she might straighten her leg, but maybe she didn’t want to because this way he had full and free access to her.
Careful! You risk losing yourself.
“Your strength intrigues me.” His deep tone silenced her inner voice. “Yes, I’ve taken that away from you, for now, but it’s still part of you. Something I want to explore.”
Speak! Tell him he has no right!
“This is what you’re about.”
His words began to penetrate only to shatter like a thin layer of ice. She’d just begun to wonder why that was when she realized his hand no longer lay quietly along her sex. A single finger was sliding into her, moving slowly and yet surely, touching inner flesh, gentle and masterful at the same time. Her mind blinked, stayed closed. There was nothing to her beyond his finger inside her. And her pussy weeping for him.
“Please, please, please,” she moaned. Her breath stirred the dirt.
“Please what?”
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