Lost (Captive Heart #1) Page 13

  “Fuck.”

  “Oh my God.”

  We both moan and growl at the same time when he hits the back of my walls. I’m so full it stings, and I can feel both of the orgasms in our bodies tingling under the surface just waiting to erupt like powerful, dormant volcanoes. Our bodies have slept for years, going without each other. Now that he’s finally back inside of me, we both know it won’t last long. Not this time.

  “I don’t want it to be over.” Tucker holds himself inside of me, seated to the hilt, while his fingers grip my waist so hard I know I’ll have marks tomorrow.

  “I’m not going to last long. Make love to me, Tucker.” My whimper is a plea.

  Tucker’s eyes shudder closed and he sucks in a breath.

  And then he starts to move.

  Pounding and pulsing so hard into me that I’m sure the table underneath me is going to buckle and break. Metal grinds against metal and Tucker grinds against me. He’s slamming into me so hard that I swear he’s trying to tattoo an imprint of his cock inside of me, but God I never want him to stop.

  “Full. So full.” I moan.

  “That’s right, baby, full of me. Feel how deep I reach into you?”

  Yes, jeez, I did. He stroked so good, so deep that I felt him brush my G-spot every single time. I felt it, the tingling, start at the bottom of my spine. It felt like lava bubbling up from my tailbone and warming every pulse point in my body. I was going to erupt in moments.

  And still, Tucker kept a punishing rhythm.

  “You need to come, Char, right now. Come for me.”

  His husky tone sets me off and I arch back, contorting my body as my orgasm rips through me. I clench down on his cock, the vibrations of my climax wracking my flesh.

  As the last wave hits me, I feel Tucker pull out, a sucking sound echoing from my wet core.

  “Yes, Char, fuck …”

  Tucker spurts warm come onto my stomach, and I look down, not able to tear my eyes away from the scene before me.

  Tucker, drenched in sweat, holding his wet, swollen cock in his fist and jerking his release onto my stomach. It’s illicit and so sexy I could probably come again from that image alone.

  I know, that whenever I close my eyes now, I will see him here, before me, pleasure and bliss etched all over his face.

  He finally opens his eyes after breathing deeply through his nose for a few minutes.

  “That was …”

  He just stares at me, trying to make me understand the words he can’t say through his expression. It’s maybe the first time I’ve seen Tucker speechless.

  So instead of trying, he comes around the table to where my head lays, my body spent and marked with his release.

  Before he kisses me, pouring what is left of our lust into each other, he whispers in my ear. “I would count that as orgasm number three.”

  29

  Tucker

  So it takes me a week and a half to make all one hundred orgasms up to Char.

  But damn, do I try every chance I get to make her come. My fingers, tongue and dick are so sore, and still, I can’t keep my hands off of her.

  I’m an addict. I have an addictive personality. And instead of drugs and alcohol, I’ve replaced those toxic substances with the noises that Char makes when I drive into her. Or the way her pussy smells when I go down on her, when I shove my tongue between her folds. I get drunk on the way she squeezes her eyes shut just before she’s about to let out a wail and come. My high now comes from the way her pussy grips my dick like it will never let go.

  And right now, I’m so jacked up on her that I don’t know if I’ll ever come down. She’s riding me, her legs spread wide as they straddle my body. She’s on display just for me, all of that peachy, creamy skin moving on my cock. I palm her tits and play with those pretty little nipples as she grinds her clit into me.

  “That’s it baby, use my cock. It’s your saddle, ride it good.”

  Char flushes and I know she’s so close when she presses her eyelids together hard. “Oh God, oh God …”

  Her pussy clenches around me with such force that I don’t even need to thrust up into her to come. I just start spilling, my semen shooting like hot lava, coating her walls.

  My vision goes white and for a second the world washes away. It’s just Char and I, nothing around us but euphoria.

  Collapsing on top of me, Char gives a little huff and I begin to trail my fingers up and down her back. She’s still sitting on my cock, my slowly deflating erection happy to be trapped in her warmth. Along with my jizz.

  At first, I was pulling out. That lasted about three or so days. Then, one afternoon, we were about to come together, and she moaned at me to just “stay in me.”

  So I did. It felt so fucking good. Better than anything I’ve ever felt. Because even though most people would think me, a former athlete and a recovering heroin addict, would have gone raw with hundreds of girls, the real truth is that I never have. I’d seen enough after school specials on how athletes got trapped by groupies, and I was too high half the time to even want to have sex when I was using.

  I told Char so, and I knew that deep down, a little part of her was happy that it was something new and special she got to share with me.

  “That was amazing.” She purrs into my ear before she licks it.

  “I think I’m becoming a bad influence. I think I’ve turned you into an orgasm addict.”

  Char lifts her head an inch and frowns. “You know I don’t think it’s funny when you make addiction jokes.”

  “You always knew my humor was of the sick variety, now you’re stuck with it. Literally. Because I kidnapped you.”

  “Har, har.” She hits my arm half-heartedly. “What are we going to do?”

  I know she’s not asking about our activities for the rest of the day. “What do you want to do?”

  “Be with you. Run away to Tahiti. Exist in a different galaxy.”

  I rub her back and pull her even farther into my embrace. “I wish all of those things could happen, too. For now, we’ll stay here for the winter. We’ll try to think up something when it gets close to April. I think that’s usually when the Marsh’s come back.”

  I didn’t want to worry about her worrying about this. The truth was, I barely slept anymore now that we were together. Not that I was sleeping well before, but now …

  I’m like a Zombie. I stay up as she breathes softly beside me each night, just waiting, listening and on-alert for any sound or movement. I run every possible scenario through my mind. If they come for me, will they kill me? Will they kill her? Could she be hurt in the line of fire? Would she be under investigation for staying here with me?

  If they found me, arrested me, took me to jail, I would probably never be able to see her again. And I’m still a selfish bastard. I have her living out here in the cold woods, missing from the outside world, for my own selfish pleasure. I know that once they catch me, or if I ever turn myself in, I’ll never be able to lie here like this again, inside of her with her naked body draped over mine.

  I’m not ready for it to end.

  “Hey, let’s do something fun today.” I try to rouse her.

  “I can think of something fun.” Char, the new, bold sex-crazy Char, grinds down on my cock.

  And even though my dick is tired and sore and has come so much that he probably needs a vacation, I feel my tip start to twitch and my shaft start to lengthen.

  “You’re going to kill me, woman. Death by sex.”

  “Not a bad way to go.” She nibbles my chin.

  “While I’d love to go again, I think you might break my cock. And then we’d both be sad. No, let’s do something. There is still no snow, and we haven’t even explored half this place. How about we break out a paddleboat?”

  Char rolls off me but stays close, and I can see the evidence of my climax coating her thighs. And now, maybe I don’t want a sex break.

  “Nah. With my luck I’d end up in the water and we’d have to
go all Titanic on the freezing door.”

  I chuckle. “Okay then. How about laser tag?”

  “Do you want me to sprain an ankle again?

  Well, that was a loaded question. The last time she’d sprained an ankle, she’d agreed to stay with me.

  I shake my head, and Char giggles. I think she knew what I was thinking about.

  “Ok fine, since I don’t want to see my girl in pain, how about ping pong?”

  If there is one thing a guy hates, it’s to be beaten by a woman. Yes, I was raised in the camp that men are superior to women, that we are Adonis’s and rule the earth like kings. No, I don’t fully believe that.

  But any man is lying when he says he doesn’t want to have his ego stroked by his woman. He’s bluffing if he says it doesn’t feel good to impress her, to provide for her, to take care of her.

  It’s bad enough Char watched me through my awkward teenage years. That she watched, horrified in front of her television, when I blew my knee out and was writhing in pain on the turf. It’s even worse that she, only a month ago, saw me in a pool of my own piss and vomit, having an epileptic fit as I detoxed off heroin.

  But it stings like a motherfucker that she’s absolutely kicking my ass in ping pong right now.

  “You’re a fucking liar. You’ve definitely played before.” I growl before serving again.

  She’s won two games in a row by at least ten points, and I’m pissed. I was the reigning beer pong champ at college, and we even played with paddles sometimes to make it harder.

  I should be kicking her plump, perky ass. But instead she’s wiping the floor with me.

  “I swear, I’ve only ever played this like a couple of times! I guess it’s beginners luck?”

  Char struts around the other side of the table like some proud peacock preening her feathers. And while I’m annoyed that she is beating me at my own game, I’m also impressed.

  And fucking turned on. Because this is the first time I’ve ever seen Char, well … gloating. And it’s fucking hot.

  “You’ve never really won at anything, huh?” I smile and wink.

  Char twirls the paddle in her hand and shimmies her hips a little. “Hmm … well, I’ve never really done a sport that I ‘beat’ anyone at. I won a lot of dance medals and ribbons, but it was just me, getting judged for that. I performed at musical recitals, but again, not really a physical toughness to that.”

  “I wouldn’t call ping pong physically tough, babe.”

  “Don’t downplay it just because I’m kicking your ass.”

  She leans down onto the table, taunting me as her big T-shirt gaps open, revealing her tempting cleavage.

  “I think I like cocky Charlotte.”

  “Oh yeah, how much do you like her?”

  “Why don’t you come over here and feel it?” I grab the steel rod tenting my pants.

  Char drops the paddle, these rounds of ping pong serving as enough foreplay for the two of us.

  “Mmm, Tucker. You really worked up a sweat, huh?” She runs her palm across the front of my pants with just the right amount of pressure.

  I suck in a breath and marvel at the five-foot-four siren before me. Char has also been quietly beautiful. A temptress underneath a shy exterior. But when she lets the sexual deviant out … fuck, I could come with the way she’s stroking me through the material.

  “Put me in your mouth.”

  She doesn’t hesitate before sinking to her knees on the recreation room floor and taking the waistband of my gray sweatpants with her. I groan when my cock springs free, bouncing stiffly just inches from her mouth.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be rewarding me? I did win.” The little minx takes me in her hands and strokes me, light and teasing.

  “Put me in your mouth and see just how generous I’m feeling today,” I choke out.

  Char opens her jaw and I get a peek of her eager, pink tongue before she swallows me whole.

  I lurch forward, my cock hitting the back of her throat. I can’t help it, the image of my dick in her mouth makes my knees weak.

  “Jesus Christ, Charlotte. Your mouth is fucking heaven.”

  She makes a humming noise as her head bobs up and down, and she’s making me see fucking stars.

  “Get up on that table now.” I can’t do anything but command her with the way she’s suctioning my erection with her lips.

  Char moves, tearing at her own clothes like they’re burning her. “How do you want me?”

  I’ve been teaching her well. “Bend over. I want to see that pretty ass in the air for me.”

  She obeys, her tits smash into the faded green tabletop as she presents herself to me.

  “Fuck.” I take a mental snapshot of this, so scared I may one day soon lose it.

  I position myself at her slick entrance, and if it’s possible I get even harder at the fact that I didn’t even have to touch her to get her this wet. Then slowly, so slowly so that she can feel every vein in my cock, I push into her. Her pussy makes a sucking noise, greeting my cock and accepting all of the length I feed her.

  “Ah!” She cries out when I push in all the way to my balls, slapping against her clit.

  “Am I too big?” I taunt her.

  She pushes back even though I’m hitting her walls. “I’ve seen bigger.”

  “Oh, you’ll pay for that.”

  I love how she spurs me on. I grab her shoulder with one hand and reach around to find the swollen nub between her legs. I rub it once, and then move my fingers just a whisper away from it. She knows they’re there, but I won’t touch her.

  I give one slow stroke of my cock in and out. “Do you want me to rub your clit?”

  Two can play this game.

  Char whimpers when I stroke slowly in and out of her again. “Yes, please … Tuck …”

  She’s panting and I can see her breath in white puffs in the cold room. But we’re both so hot, our skin burning against each other.

  “Do you want me to go hard?” I give her a testing thrust, driving hard as we both moan.

  “Tucker. Go. Hard.”

  Her voice is gritty and needy. I know she’s ready for it.

  I start to drive into her, poised like an animal driving madly into her while I circle her wet clit. It’s messy and loud and she’s thrashing beneath me. I’m pounding so hard into her that I’m a little scared I’ll break her, and she’s putting new scratches deep into the ping pong table.

  And then she’s coming so hard that I feel the convulsions as they course through her body. She goes limp underneath me as the last of the orgasm leaves her, and I start to spurt string after string of my release inside of her. My cock feels like a fucking rocket, launching everything I have into Char.

  I lay on top of her back, both of us panting and trying to find our footing.

  “Best out of five?” Char chuckles.

  All I can do is laugh.

  30

  Charlotte

  Last year I celebrated Thanksgiving alone in my condo. I bought the Boston Market dinner for singles who eat alone on the holiday—a tiny roast Turkey, a tub of mashed potatoes, and some steamed corn. They even threw in a few of the blobby, cranberry jelly rings.

  This year, I’m eating thawed deli meat turkey with Tucker Lynch in a freezing cold mess hall as state police search the entire state of Pennsylvania for us. And still … I’d choose this over any other arrangement.

  We know they’re looking for us because we heard it on the radio the other day. They finally identified Tucker.

  They’d known I was missing for a while, my face is clearly visible in the bank camera footage, and my coworkers easily picked me out when I didn’t show up for work.

  But Tucker had had his hood on, he never turned to face the camera, and he never touched anything. He made me open all of the doors, made me touch the register and the cash. But by digging, and doing what police officers do, they finally found out it was him. I just thanked God that it had taken them almost two months to
figure it out. It meant they still had no idea where we could be, and I prayed we came up with a plan soon. Surely Camp Marsh would come up in a discussion at some point, it was a common place we’d both been.

  “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock!”

  Tucker sings along with the Christmas song, and for once I’m happy we have the radio. Thanksgiving, it always marks the first day of holiday tunes on the radio and I always loved this tradition. It might not be in a home, by a warm fireplace, but preparing this meal here, with Tucker … it was the best holiday I’d had in a while.

  “How’s the turkey coming, my beautiful?” Tucker comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, swaying us along to the music.

  I poke at the turkey slices I’ve put in a pan with some oil, and it doesn’t look all that appetizing to me.

  “Considering this has probably been frozen for somewhere around a year, I don’t know that it’s going to be that great. How are the sides?”

  We found some frozen corn in the back freezer, and a tub of mashed potatoes that I swear is expired but we’ll still try to microwave it.

  “They’re good. I like being your sous chef. You’re hot when you’re bossy.” He smacks a kiss on my cheek and goes back to stirring the corn.

  “This is the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years.”

  Tucker looks at me, worry clouding his features. “If this is the best Thanksgiving you’ve had in years, I’m afraid of what life has been like for you.”

  I sigh, not having wanted to bring up a sad subject, but also needing to talk about it with Tucker. “I spent Thanksgiving alone last year.”

  “What?” He crosses to me again, placing his hands on my shoulders and massaging as I talk. It feels like heaven.

  “After I broke off the engagement with Clark … well, you know my mom. She either wouldn’t speak to me every time I saw her, or she would go into great detail about what a horrible failure of a daughter I was. So, after a month or two of it, I decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. I cut off communication with my parents. And that’s why I spent Thanksgiving alone last year.”