Captive Angel Ch. 03

He reached out his hand, captured hers and pulled her over to the bed. Sitting up, he drew her into his arms, stroking her hair. "You won't have to go through that. We'll tell them I'm awake. Then you can go home, Angel. You won't have to worry about those rejects from the gene pool again."

She knew she shouldn't but it felt good to be held, to be stroked and comforted. She was so damned scared, she snuggled against him, feeling the bare skin of his chest against her cheek. "Do you really think they'll just let me leave?"

He hesitated for a moment and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Sebastian couldn't afford to let her go. Even if she promised not to talk, she was a liability.

"I don't know."

* * * *

Everyday he grew stronger. He walked the room, his chest bare, and a blanket wrapped around his waist. He paced back and forth, brushing against Angel as he went because the room was too small. His ribs still ached, but he was quickly regaining strength, exercising when Angel slept or was on her daily visits to Sebastian.

It grew harder to be around her everyday because he found himself doing things to make her smile, touching her when it wasn't necessary, making her laugh just to hear the sound of her voice.

He found himself staring at her when she napped during the day because her sleep at night was restless and full of nightmares. She was like fire with her red hair gleaming against the white pillows. Her bewitching green eyes with emerald sparks flared when she was mad or upset. Her skin was winter pale, lightly freckled over her nose, an enchanting sprinkling he found adorable.

Adorable? Since when had he found a woman adorable? Hunter groaned. He'd been trapped here too long. He began to wax poetic nonsense about freckles on a woman's nose. He'd had no use for women since his ex-wife had tried to bilk him out of half his company. If it weren't for the forethought of the prenuptial agreement they'd both signed and the pictures he had of her and her boyfriend from before the marriage had split up, she'd have gotten it too. Since then, women had their uses, usually on their backs in his bed and then out the door once they'd fulfilled his need. But he didn't trust them, none of them, except, perhaps his little sister, Shanna.

Though, come to think of it, Angel did seem as different as night to day from his ex-wife, Cindy. She didn't whine or fuss when she didn't get her way. She didn't loose control when provoked. Her voice, sure as shit, was a lot easier on his ears, than Cindy's had been.

He rose from the chair where he watched Angel sleep, instead pacing the floor again with the blanket dragging behind him. What he wouldn't give for a decent pair of jeans and his boots. The boots were probably gone for good, taken from him when he was kidnapped, along with his leather jacket and his wallet.

He headed down to his motorcycle on his way to a job because it worked the easiest to get around downtown Dallas traffic during rush hour. The van screeched up behind him, arms reaching out to grab him.

They'd never have snatched him if it hadn't been for the tranquilizer dart. He was just as big, just as strong as the men sent for him. He threw some blows before the gun was pointed at him from the depths of the van, its report muffled and echoing in the parking garage. The dart stuck in his chest, taking very few seconds before he felt its first effects, slowing his movements until he keeled over, out like a light.

He woke here in the mansion in Sebastian's world of fun and torture. Then the questions started, questions regarding his father's journals and his cave spelunking. That hobby killed his parents.

He had his father's journals but he'd be damned if he'd give them to Sebastian. He hadn't even read them, just put them away in a small safety deposit box. Hunter always meant to read them, but the pain always seemed too close to the surface, so they remained locked up.

They were small books, leather bound and easily carried in his father's big pocket he had on the leg of his spelunking pants. His father's notes and drawings, some sketches of people they'd met or the things they'd seen in the caves they'd found filled each book. Every inch of every piece of paper was filled with his father's scrawl, as to be almost illegible.

He'd give up the books if it would buy them some time to get out of this mess. He wouldn't let Angel take his place in that room. A frown furled across his face, and his hands fisted as he thought of them hurting her because of him.

"Wow, so fierce," Angel said, yawning as she sat up on the cot and looked at him. "What's got you in such a mood, Hunter?"

He glanced over at her before dropping his eyes. She was flushed from sleep, and her hair mussed around her shoulders as if by a man's hand. Her eyes sparkled as they looked at him and he suddenly felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. "We haven't got much time left."

She frowned, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "Yes, I know," she said, getting up and coming over to him.

"You're taking this rather well, all things considering."

"Would you rather I scream and kick and bite? I mean, there's a panicking maniac inside of me just itching to get out if it would make you feel any better." She tried to make it sound like a joke but it was too close to the truth to be very funny.

"I guess if it were me in your shoes, I probably wouldn't have been so nice to me." He scrubbed his hand over his face and then pushed his too long hair back.

"It's not your fault, Hunter." She reached out and put her hand on his arm. "It's no one's fault but Sebastian's. He's the one I blame for all of this."

Hunter looked at her long, slender fingers resting so casually on his arm. They were beautiful fingers, delicate, fragile looking. He wondered what they would look like if Sebastian had his way and got her in his chair. The thought made his hand sliding over hers, squeezing it against his arm.

"So tell me, what's the first thing you're going to do when we get out of here?" she asked him when the silence grew too long to be comfortable. He was too good looking, much too accessible to the pervert in her mind as she wondered just what that delicious body looked like standing up. She'd seen it in all kinds of detail while he was sick, and in some detail that would just ruin the erotic image she had if she let it.

"A long, hot shower, I think, is first. Then I want a steak," he said, playing along with her game.

He wondered what she'd say if she knew he was thinking about a big bed, clean sheets and her, naked in the center, every luscious ounce of her waiting for him. He even imagined the gleam in her green eyes as he approached, and how she'd hold open her arms for him.

He still held her hand against his arm. Angel wondered if he realized it. His fingers rubbed gently over hers, caressing her soft skin with just the tips of his calloused fingers. It sent shivers through her, a sense of heated awareness all the more powerful because he seemed to be doing it unconsciously.

"Let me guess," she said, trying to keep the shiver out of her voice. "You'd want it rare, just passed over a match on both sides with a huge baked potato, butter and sour cream."

"Is there any other way to eat steak?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "Medium well done covered in sautéed mushrooms and onions, red-skinned mashed potatoes with garlic and butter and a side of broccoli. That's how to eat a steak."

"Blasphemy! You heathen, you shall not speak such words less the Gods of steak hear you and send down lightning bolts." He looked at her, his gray eyes less stormy and more like smoke over fields of heather as he did.

His chuckle was infectious, and she couldn't stop the giggle that surfaced, surprising her. She hadn't giggled since...well, for a long time. Her free hand came up, covering her mouth.

"Why do women do that?" He reached up and pulled her hand away from her mouth. "You have a beautiful smile, Angel. You should never hide it." He stared at her, his gaze getting lost in her emerald green eyes.

Her smile disappeared as his eyes grew serious, then heated, the gray sparking like lightning hidden inside a storm cloud. She felt her breath catch and saw his intentions just seconds before his head bent. She couldn't have stopped him, didn't want to, anymore than she wanted tomorrow to come.

His lips were soft, warm and his breath sweet against her lips. She felt the hesitation in his kiss, as if he waited to see if she'd accept him. Then his lips settled upon hers, rubbing with a wonderful aggression that made her moaning, pressing herself against his chest, holding on to him with one hand, the other wrist still trapped by him.

He groaned at the sensations flooding him, her softness against his body, her lips, the sweet scent of her hair, and the firm press of her breasts against his chest. It'd been so long since he held a woman, since he'd kissed a woman.

With a suddenness that startled a shriek out of her, he turned and pressed her against the wall, his hand grabbing her other wrist and holding them pinned besides her shoulders. His body leaned against hers and his lips held her mouth captive while he feasted on her flavor.

She tasted of coffee and mint, and dark passion that enticed him to explore further. His tongue rubbed against hers with an intimacy that made her heart pound and her head swim. She breathed in harsh pants against his skin, and her hands fought his grip, wanting to touch him, to stroke all that male flesh driving her mad this past week.

But he wouldn't release her hands, instead, he rubbed against her, spreading her jean-clad thighs with his leg until he could push against her sex with his knee. He found the seam of her jeans, using it to rub and stimulate her until she moaned under his lips.

He tore his mouth from hers, staring into her half open, sleepy green eyes. "I want you," he growled, pressing his groin against her to emphasize the statement.

"Yes," she managed to whisper before his lips were on hers again. This time, he released her wrists as his hands slid to her waist, holding her against him, pulling at the long-sleeved tee shirt she had tucked into her jeans. He pulled it out slowly, teasing her with his movements and causing her stomach to flutter in delight.

Then his warm, hard fingers traced little lines on the soft skin of her stomach, causing her to suck in her breath. His hands rose slowly, pulling her shirt up as they went, stroking over her ribs until they reached the undersides of her breasts. "You have way too many clothes on," he whispered against her lips. "Mind if I..."

She smiled at his words and the cocky way he said them. "Sure," she said. "Let me know if you need any help."

"I think I can handle it." His hands traced the band of her bra following it around to the clasp in the back. With one hand, he flicked open the small hook and eyes, making her laugh.

"Practice a lot?" she asked him, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Every chance I get," he said. "I used to use my sister's bra and a basketball."

Her laughter stopped when his hands slid under the loosened cups, holding her heavy breasts in his palms. She moaned, arching her back as he moved his hands in slow circles, teasing her plump, swollen nipples. Pushing up, he quickly pulled off her shirt and bra together, hopelessly entangling the two garments and dropping them to the floor. His eyes dropped to the smooth skin and lush curves he exposed, growling as he examined her beauty.

"I've been thinking about these since I woke up and you held my head against them." He trailed the tips of his fingers down her chest, over the full mound to trace around the circle of puckered flesh surrounding each of her nipples. "So beautiful," he said softly, bending down to slide his tongue over one hard tip. His lips nibbled against her, and his hands cupped and squeezed the flesh of her breasts.

She couldn't stay still under his ravaging mouth. Tiny cries of pleasure and need erupted from her lips as her body arched against his. Her hands laced in his hair, that wonderfully shaggy hair that felt like soft sin against her fingers, satiny and sleek, and as dark as this man's soul.

He stood suddenly, startling a cry from her, reaching out and lifting her against his chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he spun her around, taking her to the cot and dropping down on it, without letting her go.

Angel stared up at him, and her heart skipped a beat at the fire she saw in the gray depths of his eyes. He stared at her lips, entranced with the soft, pink flesh. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her lips.

"Yes," she said softly. "I want you."

His mouth muffled anything else she could have said as he slanted his lips across hers in a kiss meant to scorch. She felt him, pressing against her, his legs still on the ground, and her body angled across the cot, held up only by his hands. It was an amazing feeling, trusting a man with her entire self, giving over control to him. A shiver of awareness went through her making her hips jerk against the hard bulge that rubbed with dark intentions against her.

His mouth slid from hers, and his lips nibbled a heated path from her chin to her jaw, down over her throat to the line of her shoulder. His hands went to the snap on her jeans, pulling on it, then slipping the tab down the metal teeth, slowly exposing the soft flesh of her lower stomach. His hand slid inside, and his fingers touched the soft, crinkly hair covering her sex.

"I've been dying to know if it's as red as the hair on your head," he said,

biting softly on the skin of her shoulder.

"Well, don't keep yourself in suspense," she whispered, lifting her hips to give him room to pull down her jeans.

He flipped off the soft tennis shoes she wore, then pulled on the legs of her jeans, watching as they slid down her legs, leaving her long, pale limbs bare.

Her legs curved softly, sleekly muscled, smooth from what he saw above the rolled top of her bobby socks to the skin under the tiny wisp of silk that covered her pussy. Red silk, a tiny bit of lace and a small satin bow kept him from the flesh he longed to touch.

Angel shivered as he gently stroked the red satin panties she wore, his fingers playing with the tiny bow.

"Pretty," he said before slipping his thumbs into both sides of the thin satin and pulling them down. His eyes feasted on the flesh he revealed. "God you're beautiful," he whispered as he held the small pair of panties, dangling from one of his fingers. "You're more beautiful than I'd thought you'd be."

"Glad I exceeded your expectations," she whispered, feeling a blush rising against her pale cheeks. His eyes saw every curve and thus ever flaw or mark causing her to reach out, pulling him against her, moaning in delight at the way his body felt against hers. Her lips found his, anxious now, wanting him to finish, to take her beyond the point of stopping.

His hand slid down her body, and his fingers brushed over the sparse red curls, tracing the thick, swollen lips of her pussy before going further, slipping into the damp heat between. She was wet, slick with her desire for him, hot beyond his wildest dreams. He was gentle as he caressed the sweet folds of her flesh, finding the taut pearled knot of her clit, teasing it with little strokes of his finger.

Angel tore her mouth from his, her body one taut arch under him. "More," she moaned. "Please." Her hips danced under his hand, and her fingers going to the last piece of fabric between them, pulling on the fold of fabric he tucked under to keep the blanket in place.

Hunter moved back, letting her pull the blanket from around his waist, feeling it pool on the floor around his knees. Her hand was like a flame as she explored the rigid proof of his desire, finding the tip wet with his need for her.

He took as much of her stroking and tugging as he could, finally grabbing her hands in his and putting them on her stomach. "I can't wait anymore, doc. Its been too long." His voice trailed off as he lifted her legs to his shoulders.

Angel felt his cock nudging at her wet flesh and closed her eyes. He slid through her damp heat, stroking over her clit and making her jump. Then he was there, at her delicate opening. She felt him pushing, herself opening and then a harsh pain as he passed the small barrier keeping her a virgin for twenty-eight years.

Her scream of pain mixed with his harsh groan as he realized what had happened. His hands dug into her hips where they held her still for his possession. His eyes lifted to her face. "Doc, when we're through here, you're going to have some explaining to do," he growled.

With tears in her eyes, she felt him move slowly inside of her, as his cock buried itself with infinite care deep into her cunt. She felt the rigid control he held upon himself, as his body shook with his needs. When he pressed against her, his hand lifted from her hip to her face, wiping the tears away with a gentle touch. "Are you okay? Is this okay?" he asked quietly.

She opened her eyes, seeing an expression of gentleness in his eyes that fought with his desire. Angel nodded because the pain retreated somewhat, not that it had been that bad in the first place. "I want this," she told him, reaching out and holding onto his wrists.

He sighed as if a weight dropped from his shoulders at her words. "Okay." He leaned down, and his lips lingered against her mouth. "But if you had warned me..."

"You wouldn't have touched me with a five-foot pole," she finished for him, hearing his snort of laughter.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But since I have, though it's by no means five feet long," he paused, sliding his cock out of her slowly.

His moan met her gasp as friction created sparks growing quickly to flames. He kept the pace slow even though his body screamed for him to move

faster, to plunge and plunder until his needs were met. He refused to listen to it, wanting to make Angel's first time memorable, even though how you would beat losing your virginity in a cell in a sub basement of a mansion while being held by a reject from the nerd factory, he didn't know.

He felt when she pushed back and heard her breathing quicken. Her hands tightened around his wrists and whimpers replaced the grimace she wore before. Her head fell back against the cot, her hair a riot of color against the austere backing she lay upon.

His hand seemed so huge against her stomach and her skin petal soft under the calloused hardness of his. He slid his fingers lower, his thumb slipping into the heat of her slit, feeling her body jerk as he found her clit once more.

A low keening cry came from between her lips as he rolled the small bud with his thumb, bring a hard smile to his lips. "You like that?" he growled,

even as he felt her clamp down around his cock.

"Yes," she whimpered, pushing her hips up, begging him for more. It felt so good, so incredibly intense, better than she'd ever thought it could. Her body pulsed and throbbed. Her calves flexed against his chest as she used him to help her move. He tried to hold her still, but she refused, forcing him in and out of her sopping cunt, listening to her heated cries. He finally let go of his control, slamming into her with thrusts that shook her body and the cot under her.

Hunter felt her nails digging into his wrists just an instant before her head tilted back, and her body arched as a long, low cry came from between her lips. He felt the contractions of her orgasm in the muscles of her cunt, the way it milked at his cock like a hand in a wet velvet glove. With a shout of his own, he emptied himself into her, his balls clenching, as he spurted his hot seed deep into her womb.