Kidnapped by the Mountain Man Page 2

  Jesus! He probably weighs three times what I weigh. His strength is obvious and terrifying.

  So what if he’s drop dead gorgeous? It doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s a kidnapper and beast!

  But he did tell me he’s not going to kill me and, for some reason, I believe him. It tones down my terror by a degree. The whiskey is calming me.

  “Good girl. More.”

  He gives me more of the whiskey. And a little more.

  Then he reaches for something on a shelf. It’s a small bottle.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a special kind of oil.”

  “What kind of oil?”

  “A massage oil. It feels good.”

  Massage oil? He’s going to touch me with it.

  I almost start screaming again, but I know it won’t help me. I think about begging, pleading and swearing. But I know it won’t make a difference. So I lie there, my heartbeat pumping a crazy rhythm. I’m completely naked, my arms and legs spread and tied. I’m fully exposed and completely at his mercy.

  But the whiskey is starting to numb the edges of my fear.

  He unscrews the lid of the oil and he pours some into his palm. Then he dips his fingers in it. Very lightly, he touches his fingers to my nipple. I flinch, but he begins to swirl the oil. His rough fingers pinch me and pull on my nipple, twirling, until I can feel a deep heat begin to warm the tight bud. I’m breathing harder and my breasts rise and fall with my breath. He uses the movement to continue his rough caress, playing with my nipple lazily, until the heat begins to radiate and spread, warming my breast, and lower, to my belly.

  “Your body is reacting to my touch, see? I told you it would feel good.”

  I’m too terrified for it to feel good. But I can admit the sensation isn’t bad.

  He moves to my other nipple. He does the same thing, swirling with his work-roughened fingers, squeezing and tugging, taking his time.

  I gasp. I don’t want it to feel good, but it does.

  I can see the white flash of his half-smile in the darkness. The heat in my nipples is getting distractingly … hot. It’s a dark, sweet heat, with pulsing, needy sparks.

  God. “What kind of oil is this?”

  “An aphrodisiac. To relax you and to get you wet for me.”

  Wet? What does he mean? I’ll admit I’m completely inexperienced. Like, completely inexperienced. I’ve always kept to myself, because it’s embarrassing to live in the worst house in town. To have strange, drunken parents. It’s easier to keep my distance. That way I don’t have to deal with taunts and laughter. “No.”

  The movement of his fingers slows, but he doesn’t stop. “Too late. You’re already getting wet for me.”

  “I’m not.”

  He pinches my nipples harder and it makes me squeal. “You are. I think you’d like to find out what this will feel like, here, on your sweet pink pussy, where you’re getting wet and ready.”

  “No.”

  He rubs my nipples harder, to punish me maybe, pinching and pulling and using the deep heat, until I know I’m getting wet. Very wet. I don’t know what “getting wet” even means, except that I can feel it. Where his fingers tease my sensitive nipples, the pleasure is starting to practically glow, sending channels of warmth to my bare pussy. It’s tingling. It feels slippery and hot.

  One of the Beast’s oily hands glides down my belly, to my hip. Around my hip. Turning me. He rubs oil onto my backside, sliding his fingers in between, finding the tiny cove. He rubs some of his oil there, and I squirm. But I can’t move. I’m too tightly bound.

  His fingers glide silkily over the secret pucker until it’s warm there, too. Very warm. This warmth and the warmth from my nipples starts to spread and to join up and take over my entire body. My pussy is slick now, and tingling. More than tingling. Throbbing.

  Something’s happening. I’m on the brink of something extreme and I have no idea what it is.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

  “I’m not your baby.”

  “Yes. You are my baby,” he says roughly. “And I’m not going to let you come until you admit that to me and beg me for it. All I have to do is flick my tongue against your sweet little clit and you’ll shatter with pleasure. I can see how pink and ready it is. What would it feel like if I sucked on your sensitive little trigger right now, sweet Jasmine?”

  “You’re a beast, that’s what you are!”

  “Yes. I’m your beast, baby girl. Beg me. Beg for my tongue.”

  “No!”

  He squeezes my nipple and rubs his fingers against the cove my ass, almost into the cove, more insistently.

  “Oh,” I gasp. The heat is spiked with little darts of a pleasure so intense it’s hard to deal with. I’m approaching some kind of tipping point that I want to go over. Like I’ve never wanted anything. I can tell it’s going to kill me with pleasure. I need it. So much.

  “You’re very close, baby. Fuck, you’re wet.” His fingers slide over the swollen flesh of my pussy and I moan. But he avoids the place I need him to touch.

  He’s teasing me.

  He plays with my pussy lips, sliding his hot, rough, oily fingers over my sensitive skin, opening me, dipping inside me. “You’re so perfect, baby. So tight and so fucking sweet.”

  I want to tell him to stop. But it feels too good. Something life-changing is about to happen to me. I’m on some kind of brink that, despite everything, is making me insane with need.

  He leans closer. I can smell his scent again. That outdoorsy woodsmoke scent, of ozone and autumn, like he’s made of fresh air. He licks my thigh and I whimper. His wicked tongue moves higher.

  He’s gliding his tongue along the petals of my pussy very softly. It’s not enough. I need him closer. I need him to touch that trigger. “Do you want me to stop?” he murmurs.

  I’m appalled to hear myself plead, “No. Please don’t stop.”

  “Good girl. I couldn’t stop anyway. You taste too good.”

  Oh, God. He’s getting closer to the button. The center of my entire universe.

  Closer.

  His tongue dips wetly into the most intimate place imaginable.

  I wriggle, not to get away from him but to try to get his tongue to touch me there.

  I hear his low laughter.

  I’m trapped here with the devil himself.

  “Whose baby are you?” he says, almost touching his tongue to my clit, but not quite.

  “Yours,” I gasp.

  Very, very lightly, he tickles my clit with the tip of his tongue and I almost die. I’m so, so close. But then his mouth is gone.

  No!

  “Who do you belong to?” he growls.

  “You, Beast. You.”

  “Beg me.” Oh. Very gently, he dips inside me with his lewd tongue. “Fuck, you’re a gorgeous girl. So ripe and ready.”

  I don’t feel scared anymore. I feel mad. He’s avoiding something I need.

  I need him to touch the throbbing, pulsing, brimming place.

  “You taste like heaven,” he murmurs against me. “Even better than I imagined. Do you understand now why I need you for my own, Jasmine? Because I needed to taste you here. Every day, all day. You’re mine.”

  I want to say no, but instead I whisper, “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “More.”

  “More what, baby? Tell me what you want.”

  “Please do it.”

  “You want me to make you come?”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “How?”

  “With your tongue. With your mouth.”

  “Say ‘lick my pussy, Beast. Suck hard on my little pink clit until I come.’ Say it.”

  Oh, I hate him. “Please, Beast. Please suck on me.”

  With that, his tongue slides silkily over my pussy. His hot mouth latches onto my clit and the roughness of his beard hurts in the best kind of way. An ex
plosion of pleasure wracks through my body that makes me writhe and buck.

  I scream.

  I moan.

  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. My body’s squirming and tensing with the overload of mind-blowing pleasure. It goes on and on. He makes it go on and on with his greedy, ruthless mouth.

  After a while, the waves finally start to calm.

  I feel like I’ve been drugged all over again. My body is heavy and limp after the crazy rush.

  “Beast?” I whisper.

  “Yes, baby girl?”

  “That was …” Hard to describe.

  “That was pleasure. I told you.”

  “You were right.” I can’t think. I can’t move. My eyes close.

  Beast’s mouth gentles and he licks the slipperiness of my pussy, like it’s candy that he loves the taste of. It’s the most intimate thing that’s ever happened to me. “Mine,” he murmurs against my warm, throbbing core.

  My consciousness hazes but his mouth latches onto my clit again, sucking hungrily. It happens again. The peak is even higher. I scream even louder.

  “That’s it, baby. Scream for me. Only me.”

  Later, as I drift into a sated doze, all I’m aware of is the tender suction of his beautiful mouth.

  When I wake up I hear water running. I open my eyes and turn onto my side.

  I can move.

  I check my arms and legs. One of my wrists is shackled in a cuff that’s chained to the bed. But my other arm and my legs are free. I don’t have any covers on but the room is very warm. Practically tropical.

  It’s daytime.

  “Good morning,” a growly voice says.

  I look over to see him standing next to the bed with his arms folded across his chest. His hair is wild. Like I noticed last night, it’s longish and dark but with sun-bleached ends, like he spends a lot of time outside.

  Wow, he really is built. He’s wearing that pair of rough-sewn suede pants and a pair of leather boots. He’s not wearing a shirt. His muscular chest is buff beyond belief and his tattoos are artful designs. They look tribal or something. The dusting of hair on his chest is lighter than the hair on his head and he’s deeply tanned. Maybe he spends a lot of time chopping wood.

  I stare at his face, getting my first real look at him. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m glad that—if I do have to be kidnapped and chained—at least I’ve been kidnapped and chained by this particular he-man. Which is probably a really fucked-up way to look at this whole situation, but … after last night, maybe … I don’t know. Maybe I can somehow convince him to let me go.

  He’s stunningly masculine. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as male as he is. He is a big, hairy beast. A very … manly big, hairy beast.

  He’s also my kidnapper. And my captor.

  Even if he brought me here to pleasure me, it doesn’t change the very real detail that he stole me and I’m now chained up as his prisoner.

  His very naked chained-up prisoner.

  I wonder what would have happened if he’d come to me that day in the store and talked to me. If I would have gone with him willingly. Of course I wouldn’t have.

  In a real world setting, he’d be too intimidating to be intriguing, even if he is … unbelievably hot.

  And even if I had been intrigued, it’s very unlikely I would have run away with him to a remote mountain cabin.

  My whole body is still oily from last night. Still sort of wet. And sticky. My … pussy is sore, but in a good way. From his mouth. And his rough, scratchy beard.

  I can see now that this room is very nice. It’s sparsely decorated with only a bed and one chest of drawers. But it’s big and everything looks expensive. This house would have cost a lot to build, even if it is remote. It doesn’t actually seem like a cabin, more like a house. I can see thin, snow-covered tree branches outside the window, like we’re on the second floor. My house only has one story. It’s old and dingy and run-down. It smells like sadness.

  So I’m actually, despite everything, kind of thrilled by the light and the space in this room.

  “I need to pee,” I tell him.

  “I’ve run a bath for you. I’ll give you a few minutes of privacy before I come in and help you.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Yes, you do,” he says patiently. “And I’ll warn you now, the windows are bullet-proof glass that can’t be smashed. They’re nailed shut. There’s nothing in this house besides the knife in my belt and a few other things that have been very securely locked up. You can’t retaliate against me, so don’t try to. I’m a former MMA fighter and I know how to track. The doors are locked, it’s 22 degrees outside, the snow is deep up here, and we’re at least sixty miles from the nearest civilization through heavily wooded terrain. If you even think about doing anything reckless, I’ll punish you, and I won’t unchain you again.”

  As if I’m going to bushwhack sixty miles.

  When he has that special oil, I can’t help thinking. Which is wrong of me, maybe. He’s forgetting I’ve lived a very bleak life so far. As scary as the situation may be, at least it’s interesting. At least it’s warm. I don’t what’s going to happen. I guess it’s still possible that he’s going to kill me or rape me. I just have this feeling he isn’t. “You’re going to unchain me?”

  “Yes. While I bathe you.”

  “You’re going to bathe me?”

  “You’re mine to do whatever I want with. Remember that.”

  I should still be scared of him, of course. Like I was yesterday.

  I don’t know why I’m not. Something about that pleasure overload. Holy hell, whatever it was, it kind of turned my fear into something else.

  Secretly, I wouldn’t mind if he did it again.

  It just felt so freaking good.

  “Are you going to behave?” he asks. He’s holding a key. To my handcuffs.

  “Yes, Beast. Can I close the door while I pee?”

  “I’ll give you five minutes. Don’t betray my trust. Or I won’t trust you again.”

  “I won’t do anything, I promise.”

  He’s watching my eyes as he unlocks my handcuffs. His eyes are a very dark shade of green.

  Maybe it was my very first orgasm that’s making me feel honest. “You could have any girlfriend you want, clearly. Why me?”

  “As soon as I saw you, you ruined me for anyone else.”

  I’m surprised by his reply. It’s kind of … flattering, I guess. It’s kind of a nice thing to say.

  My wrist is free. I sit up, fully aware that my breasts feel full and soft. They’re still oily. I’ve never spent much time naked. My house is too cold and depressing to even think about things like that. The way Beast is looking at me, it almost makes me feel pretty. More than pretty. Beautiful.

  I get up off the bed and his eyes never leave me.

  I go into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Wow, this bathroom is nice. It’s light and airy with a big window. Made of bullet-proof glass, apparently. Everything’s brand new and clean-looking. The shower is made out of smooth stone with fancy, shiny fittings. A girl could get used to this.

  You’re a freaking prisoner, Jasmine, I remind myself.

  Oh, yeah. I should feel more fear and angst about it. But at least I can enjoy how luxe this bathroom is.

  After I pee, I get into the hot bath. It feels amazing. It’s even one of those jet tubs. It has a European style hose for a tap. I’ve only ever seen those in movies.

  “I’m done, Beast,” I call to him. It’s weird how I’m not scared of him.

  The door opens.

  “Can I turn the jets on?”

  He comes in and sits on a small stool next to the bath. He looks huge in here, like a big sasquatch who’s wandered in from the woods. He pushes a button on the wall where there’s a dial. The jets come on and bubbles start massaging my neck.

/>   “Oh. That feels so good.”

  He glares down at me hotly.

  “Beast?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is this where you live all the time?”

  “No.”

  “Where do you live?”

  He laughs. It’s deep in his chest and sexy as hell. Talk about manly. “Do you want my address and social security number, too?”

  “Oh, right. I guess you can’t tell me any of that stuff. In case you get caught and put in jail.”

  “I have no intention of getting caught. Besides, by the time I offer you your freedom, you won’t want it.”

  I meet his gaze. “Why not?”

  “Trust me. You won’t.”

  “Because of … the pleasure?”

  He half-smiles again, but there are layers to the heat in his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to … ?” I can’t bring myself to ask him.

  “Am I going to what? Give you more pleasure?”

  I don’t answer right away. I do want more, but it is a little intimidating. Only because I have no idea what he’s going to do. Is there more to it than what he did?

  He pours some bath gel into his hand. He leans me back and wets my hair. Then he washes it, lathering it up and scrubbing with his hands. He’s so strong it almost hurts. He lays me back and rinses me with the hose, which is like a separate small jet with a gentle pulsing motion.

  He soaps up my breasts, running his rough hands over my nipples, doing that thing again where he pinches and twirls them.

  I gasp because it’s just such an intimate thing. He’s a stranger. He’s a criminal. But it feels so good. Those currents of heat are blooming inside me again, make my pussy feel puffy and tingly.

  Then he lays me back again. He puts his large hand under my backside and lifts my hips so I’m lifted to the surface of the water. He’s handling me like I’m his possession, and I guess I sort of am. He’s so sure. And everything he’s doing feels so good. It’s hard to protest.

  Beast puts more gel into his hand and he washes me, rubbing his fingers over my slippery pussy, which starts to throb lightly. I gasp. He’s getting me very clean. Then he takes the hose and starts rinsing me, using his fingers to make sure he’s rinsing me everywhere. He moves the hose, putting it right over my clit, so the pulsing jets shoot right onto the tiny bud. At the same time, he slides his finger just barely into the hollow inside my pussy, curling it, rubbing inside me.