Trapped (Caged #2)(8)

“Screw low sperm count,” I heard Brandon exclaim all of a sudden. “If I just f*ck you like this every hour on the hour, eventually some of the little f*ckers have to get up there, right?”

Nikki made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a giggle. I craned my neck a little, but I couldn’t see anything other than his feet dangling over the arm of the couch as the two of them giggled somewhat rhythmically.

“Shit!” Tria whispered as she grabbed my arm and hauled me back onto the porch. Her eyes were wide as she quickly looked from the now closed door and back to me a few times. “They’re doing it on the couch!”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “That’s pretty obvious.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Take pictures?” I said with a smile.

“Liam!”

“Kidding!” I held my hands up in front of me, palms out, and took a step backwards.

“Do we just…wait?” she asked.

I reached up and scratched the back of my head, then glanced over at the motorcycle.

“Maybe we should just go,” I suggested. I pointed a thumb toward the parked motorcycle.

“All my stuff is still in there,” Tria said. “Including all the money.”

“I guess we wait it out then.” I sat down on the top step and pulled out my pack of Marlboros, knowing we were going to be there a while. There was no way I would be able to convince her to leave without the Haversack of Hades. I leaned back against the supporting post, and Tria positioned herself between my knees so she could lean her back against my chest.

To be totally honest, I probably wasn’t up for a long ride right then, either. The whole day had been completely and totally surreal, and I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure I wasn’t dreaming. I was, however, extremely glad it was over. I was definitely going to do my best to get Tria out of this hellhole at the first light of day.

I was never one to break up a sacred f*ck-fest and run, but I had been an uninvited guest here for too long, anyway.





Chapter 3—Unpack the Stuff


Tria lay her head against my shoulder and relaxed against me as I exhaled smoke off to the side so it would stay out of her face. I snaked my free arm around her stomach, and she gripped my forearm with her slender fingers.

“Are you going to tell me something about yourself tonight?” she asked.

“No,” I told her with a firm shake of my head. “I was kind of thinking it was your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah,” I said as I took a long pull from the cigarette. “It occurred to me that you haven’t really told me a whole lot about growing up here, but you keep trying to drag shit up about my past. I think a little turn-taking is in order.”

“So if I tell you something, you then have to tell me something else?”

It wasn’t exactly what I had it mind. In fact, the whole thing had been as much a diversionary tactic as it was curiosity about her childhood. I wasn’t completely sure I wanted to know more about this place while I was still here. I didn’t think I’d get out without cracking skulls.

“Actually, maybe that’s not such a good idea,” I said. “At least, not now.”

Tria must have been thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, maybe we should talk about that when we have a little more…distance.”

“Yeah.”

“But, we could maybe do some of that when we get home?” she asked.

“You aren’t going to give up, are you?” I sighed.

“Probably not,” she said. She turned her head toward me and smiled before leaning back against me again.

I felt her shiver in the night’s chilly air and pushed against her back a little so she would sit up again. Gripping my cigarette between my lips, I pulled off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Tria stuck her arms through the sleeves and wrapped the front part so it overlapped around her torso.

The jacket was insanely huge on her, and I should have found it comical, but I didn’t. Instead, my cock took very specific notice of how she looked and decided to attempt to escape from the crotch of my jeans, which made me groan.

“What is it?” Tria asked as her eyes narrowed a bit to focus on me.

For a moment, I couldn’t answer. I just looked at her while I tried to figure out what the hell was going on inside my head. I flicked my cigarette out onto the gravel road and wrapped another arm around her.

“It’s just you,” I finally answered. “The jacket doesn’t fit you at all, and it kind of looks like you’re wearing one of those giant bean bag chairs. I ought to be laughing, but I’m not because it’s so f*cking hot at the same time—seeing you wearing something of mine.”

She widened her eyes a little.

“Like everything else about you,” I heard myself say. “It’s how beautiful you are when you’re pissed off at me. It’s how you smile when you’re making me breakfast. It’s your eyes, your voice, the smell of your hair. It’s how your skin feels against mine.”

I hugged her against me tightly.

“Just like this,” I clarified, not wanting her to think that this was just about wanting in her panties—despite the moody little bastard’s lack of self-control. It was that, too, but it wasn’t just that. “Everything about you makes me want you more.”