Hot for His Hostage (19 page)

Stop it. Crazy circumstances aside, you’ve known the man less than twenty-four hours.
He’s not your “instant soul mate” or “the other half of your heart.” It was nice with
him. It
is
nice with him. But he’s a Special Forces soldier with a thousand other priorities
higher than you on the totem pole of his life, including the mission he’s on right
now. Get over it. Get over
him.
Now.

“It was an act of fate, I think,” he started, in answer to her question. Oh, great.
An act of fate
. Here it came. “My CO pulled some strings and secured me ten days of leave in order
to be with Tait after the conclusion of that insane op they accomplished in LA. He
was a train wreck. Just needed to talk about a lot of shit, including a lot of the
shit that went down during the mission. Needless to say, Stock’s name came up a lot
in the conversation. It stuck with me. Nagged at me. I knew I’d seen Stock’s name
well before that.

“Well, one morning, the dots connected. A few months prior, I’d finally screwed up
the nuts to go through the last of Dad’s shit. One of the boxes actually turned out
to be Mom’s. It looked like a lot of old notes from the lab, pages of scribbled shit
and scientific formulas that all could’ve been written in Chinese for all the sense
they made to me—but there were lots of names in the notes, too.”

“And Stock’s was one of them,” she supplied.

He touched a finger to his nose, indicating she was right. “I didn’t think anything
of it when I went through the box; just wrote him off as just one of the Pentagon’s
financial guys. But one morning in the shower at T’s, everything slammed together,
and—” He stopped when noticing her expanding grin. “What is it?”

“Sorry.” She couldn’t help the provocative bite to her bottom lip. “I’m stuck on the
part where things slammed together in the shower. Can we review that again, please?”

His lips curled up, too. He trailed a hand to her hip while sliding his knee along
her on the opposite side, trapping her body from the waist down. “Are you telling
me you’re not such a good girl after all, Miss Chestain?”

“I have no idea what you mean, Sergeant Bommer.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “In any other time or place, I’d call your bullshit
on that pretty hard, baby girl.”

The sandpaper he’d scrubbed over his voice rubbed her in so many new places, in so
many right ways. Against her better instincts, Zoe sighed, arched, and pushed her
hip higher into his touch. Shay didn’t miss the opportunity to grasp more of her flesh,
kneading her with spread fingers before heating every drop of her blood with his rough
moan of appreciation.

“This is crazy, right?” she rasped.

When he responded with a silent nod, she knew he understood. Not just the word she
used, but everything she encompassed with it.

Crazy
.

Two syllables that stood for so much more. Like every electron that ignited the air
between them. Every perfect minute of the power they’d exchanged with each other last
night. And in a strange, sweet way, every day of every year that had guided their
life paths to collide in that one airport bar, on that fogged-in night, in a city
known more for fabricating connections than really having any. And a final twist,
that fated flight, carrying them to the most secret section of desert in the world.
Throwing them together once more.

Throwing them?

Or
placing
them?

Yes. Crazy.

And extraordinary. And incredible. And so damn good.

So yeah, she’d met him less than a day ago. In an airport bar. And he was a soldier,
Special Forces at that, the kind of guy she always vehemently warned Ava away from.
The kind of guy who also made all of Ava’s dreams come true—including the proposal,
the ring, the doves, and the promises.

Okay, so things with Shay weren’t going to end with a marriage proposal aboard Air
Force One. But things with Shay were also…unlike they’d been with anyone else. He
saw every part of her. The good girl and the bad girl. The lioness who guarded her
inner kitten. The everything’s-handled-She-Ra who so desperately craved the chance
to be a submissive one more time.

Who yearned to be
his
submissive one more time.

“Shay?” Half of it was drowned in her breath instead of her voice.

He lowered his forehead to hers. “Yeah?”

“I’m technically still your hostage, right?”

Every tendon in his perfect muscles stiffened. He released the tension by measured
increments, reminding her once more of a mountain lion. Carefully coiled. Strategically
poised. Hypnotically lethal.

“Yeah, baby girl…you definitely are.”

His breath heated her lips as he slid his long fingers along the hinge between her
hip and inner thigh. He brought his thumb up, rubbing into the valley there, pushing
her open a little more for him.
Caramba
. She almost lost her nerve to press on. Almost.

“So, technically…you can do whatever you want with me…right?”

Nothing changed about him except the aroused tic in his jaw.
Mierda,
she adored that tic. “Is that what you want, baby girl?”

“I’m the hostage. What I want doesn’t matter…
Sir
.”

The other side of his jaw gained a tic. She didn’t have time to revel in it, though;
Shay swept his hips between hers with such stunning speed, even her gasp of astonishment
was submerged beneath the harsh grunt of his command. Maybe three seconds had passed
but she treasured each one, knowing he’d understood her emphasis on his title with
the crystal insight he had into her needs, her desires, her soul.

 She’d given him one word but meant so many more. With her raised eyes and soft smile,
she added an underline to all of them, too.

Take me.

Fill me.

Dominate me.

Please.

With his heartbeat filling his throat and his blood swelling his cock, Shay slammed
a finger to the comm piece at his ear, sending an exclusive hail to Justine’s nurse
station. As he’d hoped, the woman picked up instantly. As he also hoped, her game
show hostess voice seemed a little forced. Things must have been getting intense on
Dance Moms.

“Good day, Shane. What can I do for you?”

“Lock the door and turn off Miss Chestain’s monitors. I’ll take responsibility for
her condition now.”

“Oh! Is she awake?”

“Those were orders, Justine, not requests. Do it.”

“Of course.” Her voice resonated with comprehension. He allowed himself a beat of
relief. While Justine’s devotion to Stock tiptoed down the path of fanaticism, the
woman couldn’t be totally blind to the kind of pigs he hired. One of them wanting
a quick “sample” of a hot little hostage should have barely lifted her brows. In the
end, it didn’t. The nurse clicked off the comm with businesslike speed.  

Shay jerked the line free from his ear then tossed it to the mattress behind him.
With his other hand, he snatched the monitors off Zoe’s fingers but stopped her from
pulling the line free from her IV tube.

“Leave it in,” he commanded. “I need you good and hydrated, baby girl.”

Warmth suffused him at the upturn of her exotic lips—and yeah, about a hundred pounds
more pressure to his dick—but in that moment, she gave him more. So much more. For
the first time in six months, he was free of every mask he’d had to wear, pretense
he’d had to erect, and lie he’d had to tell. The step was surreal, a moment he’d often
lost hope of ever experiencing. It washed him in pure euphoria. And terror.

Zoe, noticing every moment of that conflict on his face, pulled him down again. “And
I need you to keep being honest with me,” she murmured. “So out with it.” Hastily
she amended, “
Please
. Sir…out with it.”

He wasn’t immune to the insecurity still flashing in her eyes. There she went again,
trying to take accountability for an issue that wasn’t hers.

He pressed a long kiss to the sumptuous flower of her lips before pushing her legs
apart with his knees. “You’re still the hostage, baby girl—but I’m not still your
abductor.”

She bit her bottom lip, adorably somber. “I’m not sure I—”

“I’m not Shane Burnett.” The bark was harsher than he intended. He nipped at her nose
as a softening measure. “With you, I can’t ever be him again. Do you understand that?”

Her head tilted. “The only differences I see between you and ‘Shane’ are a nice suit,
a designer wallet and a cell phone that wouldn’t leave you alone last night. Gucci
and Prada are just window dressing to me, and your cell is probably Stock’s, which
sure as hell doesn’t make it important to me. So what’s your problem, Bommer?”

He almost laughed. Her clarity astounded him, Humbled him. And he wished he could
take it as the complete truth, too. “My beautiful little dancer,” he murmured, “there’s
a significant difference…you didn’t quite catch.”

He filled the pause in his assertion by fitting the bulging ridge of his body against
the perfect triangle of hers. Zoe gasped, her gaze widening and her torso arching,
giving him a perfect eyeful of her sweet breasts. “Ohhh,” she moaned. “
That
.”

“Uh-uh.” The denial was hell to get out. Every corner of his mouth was poised to give
her a groaning
uh-huh
, instead. “That’s not the difference I’m talking about.”

“
Ay Dios mios
,” she mewled. “It’s—it’s not?”

Dammit. The woman continued her little undulations like she was a cloud and his chest
her sky. Shay didn’t fault her—their attraction felt as futile to resist as the tides
or the wind—but her motions incited him to react with the ferocity of those forces.
Driven by a gust of heated lust, he shoved at hem of her T-shirt until her bra was
exposed. The contrast of the cream lace against her copper skin incinerated his control.
He shoved back both cups, revealing the perfect mahogany discs that gave rise to erect
dark brown tips.

“Difference number one.” He paused long enough to open his mouth against one firm
swell, soaking her nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Shay isn’t a goddamn gentleman
like Shane. Not when it comes to your beautiful tits.”

“Ohhhh.” It was the only sound she gave as he shifted to her other breast, until he
couldn’t resist dragging the tip out with the force of his teeth. Her moan lifted
into a scream. Her hands, roaming under his shirt, turned into claws that scored both
sides of his spine.

“Difference number two,” he snarled, scratching his own fingernails up beneath what
was left of her shirt, to both sides of her jaw, where he dug his fingers in deep.
“I love hearing these lips scream, and I don’t care who hears you. I love being the
one who’s made you sound that way.”

Her eyes, wide and wild and stormy, dilated beneath his scrutiny. Frantic air sliced
from her lungs as her hips still surged for him, her thighs locked on his. Her body
was a full tempest, begging for more of his control. Shay absorbed every moment with
the same primitive pleasure, letting the storm in him escalate, using the heady force
of the power she offered. Her mind, her body, her will…fuck, she didn’t hold back.
Her spirit was a hurricane, blasting in with merciless gusts and ruthless rain, and
he accepted it all with open gratitude. She was his storm and he was her god, about
to give her energy back with a thousand times more passion and life than where she’d
started. He couldn’t wait to watch.

“Yes,” she rasped as he pressed her harder into the bed, shifting his mouth to her
neck, suckling with his teeth and tongue.

“You like this?” he growled into her ear before biting into its soft, delicious curve.

“Ohhh,” she moaned. “Yesssss.”

“And this?” He shoved a hand against her scalp and yanked hard on her thick, silky
strands.

“
Damn
.” The column of her neck undulated as she swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

“And you liked the way Shane did all of this last night, too? And the way he fucked
you afterward?”

“Yes, yes!”

He rammed his mouth over hers. Claimed her brutally. Filled her ferociously. When
he broke off the kiss, he pulled her head back down with just as much force, still
restricting her gaze solely to him.

“Difference number three,” he uttered into the thick air between them. “Shane fucked
you like a pussy.”

Her eyes flared like crushed cobalt infused with diamonds. “Oh, God. Holy shit.”

He twisted out a feral grin. “Save the prayers, baby girl. You’re going to need them
more in a few minutes.”

A long whimper slid out of her, along with a frantic nod, as he released the fastenings
on her jeans. Her expression crunched into confusion as he rolled off the bed. It
expanded to a full gape as he flipped her over, then was lost to him as he worked
on removing the pants with a couple of vicious yanks. He could guess, though. Her
aroused little grunts conveyed novels to him—and they all hinted at very happy endings.

Her desire was his new vortex, flipping back more latches on the storm doors of his
composure. Fuck, it felt great. There was so much inside him that hadn’t been out
to play in a long time. His chest pumped. His muscles surged. His focus funneled in
tighter on his precious subbie. Tighter…

Good-bye, humanity. Hello, Sir Shay. The animal inside clawed at his blood, pounded
into his cock, vibrated in every breath. It also growled up his throat as he watched
his near-naked hostage, her hands kneading the mattress, her sighs punching the air,
and her thighs starting to part, giving him glimpses of her dark pink pussy lips.
Her wet, glistening readiness…

He was well aware that they didn’t have a lot of time, but he took an extra second
to let her shiver through his scrutinizing silence. After she’d endured a few more
seconds of that tension, he paced to the area near her head. Checked the security
of her IV line. Then pushed the hair away from her face.

“Open your eyes, tiny dancer.” Damn. Even in that simple act, she performed with exotic
elegance. “Beautiful,” he praised. “Now look up at me.” When she obeyed, lashes so
thick, irises so bright, and ruby bow lips parted just a little, he exhaled hard.
She was five thousand kinds of breathtaking, a perfect wet dream. He almost wondered
if he
was
asleep. His dick provided the answer to that. If this was a dream, he would’ve lost
it and orgasmed already. “Red still means red,” he ordered in a dark rumble.

She tossed him that perplexed pout again. “You don’t get it, do you? Hostages don’t
get—”

“Hell.” He snatched up a roll of gauze bandaging off the nursing tray and unfurled
a length before fitting it between her teeth and yanking hard. After wrapping the
white shit a few times around her head, he tore it off and knotted it over one of
her ears. She winced when some of her hair got tangled in the tie but the thickened
lust in her gaze was also unmistakable. “Your safe word is now crossed fingers,
hostage
. But you’d better fucking mean it, baby, because now you’ve gotten me extra torqued.
Now nod and tell me you understand.”

She complied in less than a second. Shay grunted, proud of himself for his handiwork.
The gag was sexy as fuck, adding fire into his certainty to possess her again. At
the same time, she wasn’t just giving in to the meek captive thing. Her backtalk had
been a massive turn-on. Now, her eyes had acquired amethyst glints that she flashed
in alternating messages of
fuck you
and
ohhhh, shit
. So damn gorgeous. Dark blue was rapidly becoming his favorite color.

“Good girl,” he murmured. Christ how he wanted to keep pacing around this table, playing
with her mind and her body and anything else about her he could get his fingers on
and his cock inside, but time was a goddamn monkey on his back. Soon, Wyst would have
that extra wing open, and he’d have to jump back to being Shane again, back to what
he really came here for—though with every passing minute in this room, Zoe felt more
a part of that reason, too.

She squirmed a little, increasing the awareness that he’d let another silence slip
by. “Be still,” he ordered quietly. “You’re
my
toy now, and that includes the call on every move you make.”

She nodded then lowered her head back to the mattress. The move placed her eyes on
the same level as his cock, a fact she certainly didn’t miss, judging from her dilated
pupils and rapid-fire breathing. It sure as fuck wasn’t lost on him. She was the portrait
of dreams he’d long ago written off as pure fantasy, the plaything he’d stopped putting
on the Christmas list. He’d resigned himself to getting socks and lame sweaters for
the rest of his days…

No more sweaters now. Unless he could dress her in them. Then slowly unwrap her
out
of them.

He groaned as his cock threatened to cut its own way from his pants.

Zoe’s fingers curled into the mattress while he pulled at his fly, slicing the air
with the grate of his zipper. She writhed as he produced a condom from his front pocket
at the same time, then placed it in front of her face. He decided the move could be
her free pass. Inside, he almost
thanked
her for it. Her near-nude beauty distracted him from thinking about the moment Bash
had forced the rubber into his hand as they’d loaded Zoe onto the stretcher after
landing, joking that Shay should make the most of using his “private dancer.” Shay
had almost given the thing back to Bash by ramming it down the guy’s throat. He was
damn glad he hadn’t.

As he parted his fly, Zoe bit slowly into the gauze. When he pulled out his erection,
she released a full moan. Shay was tempted to respond in kind, but only grunted.

He repeated the sound as a crystal drop formed in the valley atop his cock. He let
it stay there, shimmering inches from her eyes, as he stroked himself from balls to
crown with a tight fist. He didn’t say a word, knowing her eyes took in every piece
of information she needed to know by staring at the force in his hand and the growth
of his stalk.

He was going to fill her without liberation. Fuck her without relief. Claim her in
every hard, ruthless way he could.

After she watched him like that for a minute, her buttocks constricted. She trembled,
clearly trying to stop herself, but sobbed when Shay stopped her with a sharp spank
across both her cheeks. “Naughty girl. Trying to get yourself off by rubbing the mattress
like a kitty in heat?”

“I—I—shaw-wee.” Her voice was filled with lusty desperation.

Shay dipped his hand between her ass cheeks, his fingers slicking into tight, wet
warmth. “You
are
a wicked pussy,” he purred. “A sweet, sopping little hostage who’s ready to be fucked.”
 

“Yesh,” she mumbled as he spread her sex wide and stroked her erect clit. “Ohhhh…yessshhh!”

“Hush.” He pulled his hand out, joining it with his other to lift her hips high. When
her ass was thrust high at him, he wound his hand back against her pussy. He stroked
her twice, then smacked her once. A stunned keen tumbled off of Zoe’s lips. When he
repeated the treatment, she cried louder. “Much better,” Shay praised. “Forget the
words, sweet girl. Your only purpose is to scream.”