Raging Heart On (Lucas Brothers #2)(99)

On the side of his face, there is dirt and red, angry scrapes. Blood. Yeah, there’s blood. He’s bleeding on his beautiful face, and that’s my fault. It hurts me, and my reaction upsets me. It shouldn’t bother me that I hurt Max. I should want to hurt him over and over. He kidnapped me. He started this! I growl; frustrated with him, with me, with the situation, and more than anything else my own stupid inability to escape.

“You’re going to pay for that one, Kitten.”

His dark voice is meant to be a threat, I know, but something about the way he says it sends shivers of awareness down my body. He pulls my hands up roughly over my head and imprisons them at the wrist with one of his. His mouth comes down hard on mine. I try to hold onto my resistance and not open my mouth to him. His free hand encircles my breast and kneads it hard. My brain ceases to function, and instead I count each time he clenches and releases. My nipples go hard, craving attention and I try to recall all the reasons I should respond to him. Then he grasps my hard, pebbled nipple between his fingers and even through the layer of my clothes it feels so good that I moan. He pulls hard, and there’s a sting of pain that feels divine, and I gasp.

Max takes advantage, and his tongue pushes into my mouth and I can’t even begin to stop the way my hips thrust up against him, seeking and needing more. Our tongues go to war with each other, each trying to conquer the other. My hands strain against his hold, as he continues his sweet torture on my nipples. Soon I become mindless, craving anything he will give me.

“You’re wet for me, aren’t you Tess? I bet that greedy little * is drenched,” he growls in my ear. My legs spread farther apart wanting him there. His hand slides against my stomach and under my clothes. I whimper when I feel those callused fingers brush against my center. “God, you’re f*cking soaked,” he mumbles against my neck as I feel his fingers thrust inside of me.

“Max!” I call out as his teeth bite into my neck and his fingers push into me, yet again. My ass raises off the ground straining for more, desperate to keep his hand inside of me. His tongue lashes against his bite, and he plants small kisses there, before sucking the skin into his mouth and pumping me with his fingers again. My climax comes on so suddenly, so quickly; I don’t expect it, I’ve never come that quickly before in my life, and I’m totally unprepared for it now. I try to pull away, afraid even while I’m craving it.

“Come, Tess. Ride my fingers and come for me,” He commands and he bites me again, just as his fingers forge their way back inside of me and his thumb presses down on my clit.

I splinter into a million pieces. The sensations overwhelm me, and I can’t hold back any longer so I turn myself over to it, throwing my head back against the cold, hard, unforgiving ground and calling out Max’s name while his fingers f*ck me through my orgasm.

Slowly I recover, the air is heavy with the smell of sex and earth. I open my eyes carefully and find myself staring into the dark, black depths of Max’s.

“Feel better now that you spread your legs and let the convict finger f*ck you in the mud, Kitten?” he growls, and the anger in his eyes hurts me more than his words. He shoves himself away from me as if I disgust him. I have to lay there for a minute to recover from the blow. Maybe I do disgust him. I’m not even sure what I just did. Worse, I already want to do it again.

I pull myself up off the ground, right my clothes and try and rake the leaves and twigs out of my hair. I’d give anything for hairbrush right now. Max doesn’t talk but when I look up, he’s reaching out his hand. The very hand he just had inside of me. I don’t want to take it. I try not to; he doesn’t really give me a choice.

He drags me back the way we came and his hold on me is cold and impersonal. Suddenly, now I feel like a hostage. He leads me beyond the tree, and I’m preparing myself for more hours of trekking uselessly through parts of Florida I’ve never wanted to see and never want to see again. Suddenly, he yanks me to a stop. I look around like he’s crazy. Then he bends down, and there’s an opening beneath us. A door to a bunker. They’re all over Florida, I know. Old deserted bunkers the military once used and no longer do. I’ve never seen one before though.

“In you go!” he orders.

I want to argue, but the change in him worries me, and I’m afraid. I do as he orders and go down into the dark bunker. I look at him as I go down every rung. I want to beg him not to close me up in here. I’m scared to death, and I can’t find my voice. His face looks pretty unforgiving. When I get to the bottom, I cough from the stale smell of dust that assaults me. I can’t see a lot. The door above is the only light, and I can’t see much. The light starts flickering, and I look up to see Max is coming down the ladder too. I guess he’s not going to leave me down here. That’s something at least.

He practically pushes me out of the way to get to an old metal wardrobe. I watch as he opens the door and brings out a lantern. He attaches a can to the base and sits it on a cheap, card table that’s across from it and has two chairs. He rummages around in the cabinet for a few more minutes and goes back to the table. I watch him strike a match and hold it into the lantern. In seconds, pale light floods the room. I look again, and once I take it all in, I suddenly wish for darkness again.

In the corner, there are a couple of small beds, which ironically enough look like beds in a jail cell, complete with army cot mattresses. Max goes over and flips the thin pads over.