Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(68)

“Don’t f**king come,” he told me, jamming himself into me once, twice, three times. He came with that delicious groan of his, just shy of making me lose my mind.

“Very good, Love,” he murmured as he pulled out of me, his thick length still twitching.

He unfastened my feet, but only one of my wrists. This he left tied, but with a lot of slack. He curled naked against my back, burying his face into my neck. I arranged myself carefully, shifting to avoid brushing my br**sts against my arms or the bed.

“Are you afraid I’ll try to run away? Is that why I’m still tied?” I asked him, since he’d never done this before. Something was seriously off.

“Yes,” he said succinctly. “No more questions right now.”

I tried to roll away, but he held me fast. He pressed hard against me. His c**k was semi-hard against the back of my thigh. “Relax. All you have to do now is fall asleep. When you wake up again, your punishment will be over.”

That was much easier said than done. I was agitated, confused and mad as hell, and the fact that James was soon sleeping heavily and peacefully against my back was no help at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Mr. Manipulative

STEPHAN

I’d been woken up after only a thirty minute nap, but I still knew I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. And I couldn’t leave her here alone, though I knew not to try to interfere again.

So I stayed. I ate and played video games, texted Javier a lot, and worried. I didn’t like to be a worrier, but where Bianca was concerned, I just couldn’t help it. If she was okay, I was okay, and if she wasn’t…

I remembered the first time I’d seen her. She’d been wearing baggy jeans, and a hoody that covered most of her hair, but she hadn’t been able to disguise the fact that she was breathtakingly beautiful, with clean features and a perfect complexion.

We’d been at a homeless shelter, but neither of us had lingered. At our age, if you stayed around people that wanted to help you for too long, it was inevitable that they would try to help you find your parents. It was always a good-natured intention, but almost insulting in its way. As though we’d have been living on the streets if we had any other acceptable choice… But even that was unfair, I knew. Some of the lost kids weren’t really lost. Sometimes they were mad, or trying to worry their parents, or even just trying to prove a point that they didn’t need anybody.

I knew at a glance that she wasn’t one of those. Yes, she had a proud tilt to her delicate chin, but she was no spoiled brat. She was like me. She had nowhere to go. She was truly lost.

I had followed her, keeping my distance, instinctively wanting to make sure she was safe. If she was like me, perhaps we could help each other. She looked about my age. Maybe we could keep each other company. The thought gave me a pathetic amount of hope.

I stayed far away, just observing, but it wasn’t long before I saw the old man stalking her.

I knew where she was headed. There was a warehouse not far away. It was a popular spot for squatters. None but the homeless were interested in the place. I trailed them there.

It was getting dark out, and so I didn’t recognize the large man that stepped into my path. I squinted warily at the one who had stopped my progress, trying to make him out in the dark.

“Old Sam has a fight for you,” the man said, and I vaguely placed who he was. I was almost positive his name was Mike.

“Now isn’t a good time,” I told him, shouldering my way around him. I wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone near that old man for even a minute, not in the darkness, where no one would care what was happening.

I began to walk briskly towards the warehouse, my eyes shifting around frantically, trying to make out all of the shadowed shapes.

“You’ll be sorry if you get on his bad side!” Mike shouted at my back.

I completely ignored him.

I was almost to the broken side entrance when I heard a faint noise down the alleyway. It had been a muffled grunt, a feminine one, and that was enough to have me tearing down the alley with no hesitation.

I saw the old pervert first, since he was on her back. He already had his pants down around his ankles, and was working at the front of her pants with one hand. The other was over her mouth.

He cursed, drawing the hand at her mouth away to punch the back of her head at the same time that she screamed.

I pounced with a furious roar. My vision went red for a long time, and I couldn’t form a coherent thought again until I felt a soft touch on my shoulder.

“You can stop. He won’t be bothering me now,” she said, her voice soft and gentle.

I stopped beating his head against the ground, letting go to study my bloody hands.

She tugged on my shirt, trying to get me to stand. “Come on. I know a place where you can clean up. You shouldn’t have to have his filthy blood on your hands.”

She took my arm and began, in that gentle way of hers, to lead me behind the building. Her every touch was like a question. She was sure of her actions, but I didn’t think she was capable of being bossy.

I looked at her, so afraid of what I’d see in her eyes.

She met my look, and hers was full of gratitude and understanding, and not an ounce of fear. “Thank you so much. I didn’t know that there really were nice men in the world. I thought that was a myth, but you saved me.”