Prisoner (Criminals & Captives #1)(70)

“The trusteeship council.” Her voice wavers, and I know she’s nervous now. She should be.

I lift her by her hair, giving her enough time to support herself. I’m not trying to rip her hair out. But I do want to scare her. She should have that much, at least. A little warning for what’s about to come.

When she’s standing, I drag her over to the nearest desk and push her on it, facedown. Her skirt is up, panties down, in two seconds flat. The curve of her ass looks f*cking gorgeous in the dim light, milky white against the dark.

“Is that all?” My voice has gone completely hoarse. I’m one second from snapping.

“There’s the…the secretariat.” She stumbles over the word. And I think it must be the first time she’s ever stumbled over the word, as big and awkward as it is. I did this to her, just like I made her thighs glisten. I push her ankles apart with my feet. My fingers slide home, and she’s so wet.

It’s an answer to the question I should never have asked. You want this, baby? And God, she does. She couldn’t tell me in regular words. Not like yes or please or f*ck me. Not my Abby. She has to speak in library words as she gives me the hottest, dirtiest, smartest blowjob on the planet.

I shove two fingers inside her, then three. I need her good and soft for what I have planned.

It takes me a second to slip a condom on. I’m a motherf*cking Boy Scout, prepared for this even on a break-in. Maybe I always knew I’d f*ck her in a library. Ever since the prison I’ve been dying to do it like this, with the smell of old books and ink in the air. She said once she likes a book smell.

I angle my dick at her cunt. But before I can press inside, she stutters. “Wait.”

And for some reason, I do. For some reason that terrifies me. I think Stone may be right. I think I may have fallen for her.

“Security council,” she says on an exhale, and I thrust inside her at the same time, forcing the words out. And I don’t let up. I don’t give her any time to adjust. All I have for her are bruising thrusts as I ride her from behind. I hold on to her hips, those lovely hips, and force my dick through her swollen flesh.

Her muscles clench around me. She cries out. God, yes, she’s coming in a wet, messy gush. I want her to make a mess all over the library, all over the pages and pages. I want her to smear the ink.

“Again,” I demand, f*cking her harder, faster.

She cries softly. “I can’t.”

“Don’t f*cking tell me that. Don’t you f*cking tell me that.” I reach under her body and find the wet folds. And the hard little nub at the top. I twist it between my thumb and forefinger until she goes rigid and screams something I think Stone and Calder can probably hear.

Pride fills me, but I can’t think about that for long. Because her inner muscles are squeezing me tighter than any fist. Her wetness is slicking and sliding over me wetter than any tongue. And all I can do is shout a useless denial before I’m coming too, spilling into her hot cunt, biting down on her neck so that neither of us can deny who owns who.





Chapter Thirty-Four




Abigail


Grayson’s weight pins me to the table, his heavy breaths pressing into me like an echo of his thrusts. His cock is still inside me, wet and hot. Without meaning to, my inner muscles squeeze. His cock flexes in response. There’s a conversation happening between our bodies. A communion.

Maybe there always has been.

Even before he captured me, when I was teaching the class in prison and he was my student, my body responded to him. I pretend to be more than my mother. More than a junkie. More than an animal in heat. But the truth is, whenever I’m around him, I’m ready for him to use me and mount me and f*ck me. I’m done fighting it. I want to lose to him. I want him to make me lose.

“Abby?” His voice is husky. With just one word, my softly spoken name, he asks a hundred questions. Am I okay? Do I hate him now? He’s not just testing me—he’s testing himself. If I’m not okay, will he care?

The answer comes to me when I struggle to find air, and he eases off. It comes to me when he sighs with resignation as his cock slips out of my damp body. Comes when I hear the snap of latex as he puts himself to rights. It comes to me when I turn back and find him watching me with something like softness.

It’s strange to see on his face. Strange enough that I have to return the question. “Grayson?”

A rakish smile lifts his lips. “This is what I thought about, when I sat in your class.”

My heart clenches. Because he didn’t only think of this. He thought of his time in a different prison. He’s still fighting to escape, but his chains aren’t made of metal.

He needs to be free. Maybe going after the governor will help. Or will it? This is a crazy dangerous move.

“Are you sure about all this? What if it makes everything worse?”

“This is what we have to do,” he says.

“You see him as the leader?” He nods grimly. “Why didn’t you guys go after him before now?”

“We never found him before. We never even knew his name—we called him Blue Jacket. Until suddenly, there he was. After a decade of searching, he shows up on the TV, like a cockroach running into the light. The f*cking governor. A respected husband and father. A pillar of society.” His voice is mocking.