Captured in Croatia (12 page)

His callused hand reaches out
and snags me around my left hip, pulling me close, inside of his spread legs. At this point I’m overtly aware of my stark nakedness. I want nothing more than to scramble back under the covers and shield my body, but he holds me fast.

“Zoran, please. You need to tell me what I’m doing here. Why haven’t you killed me yet?”
The last part comes out slow, hesitant.

“
Princeza
, if you’re not about to tell me what I want to know from you, then hush. The time for talking is over now.”

Oh. My. God.

Arms as thick as jungle pythons grasp my waist and pull me closer to his hard body. He wastes zero time before he takes me with his lips. Needy, so needy and passionate. Unlike any other kiss I’ve had before. No, those kisses that came before his could not even jokingly be called practice. His mouth is rapturous, moving so hot against my lips. It’s as if he’s determined to replace the images from his nightmare with a more sensual, pleasing reality.

That wicked
tongue probes and plunders until I’m nearly mindless. All of the blood is tunneling in one direction, straight to my throbbing core. How can one man be this good? Undoubtedly it’s due to a heaping dose of chemistry flowing between us, coupled with the fact that I’m warming to him, especially after seeing him vulnerable, even if for a brief time.

His
hands glide lower to kneed and squeeze my tender ass cheeks. A deep growl erupts into my mouth. His imposing shaft is so hard against my stomach that it threatens to force its way out of his boxer briefs.

I gasp as a firm smack lands with deadly accuracy
in the middle of my still throbbing left butt cheek. A second later I’m lifted high up against him.

He’s already moving
us across the shadowed bedroom by the time I manage to sputter, “W-what are you doing?”

No reply.

Before long we’re inside the glass shower and the lever is shoved to ‘on,’ allowing a cascade of warm water to pour over us. He traps me between his body and the slick glass wall. With my legs hooked around his waist, I feel helpless, a slave to his dominating power. A thrill shoots through me at the dark, exotic thought.

Once again his
mouth comes down on mine with a feverish passion. I should deny him but it’s just so surreal. I have to have more, just a little bit. I know that this is like playing with a wild animal. He is feral and absolutely unpredictable.

H
e pulls back just enough to slide his warm hand between us. I’m not concerned in the least about him dropping me. He could hold me up against him with just one arm.

Two f
ingers stroke with firm intensity against my eager clit, then back farther, sliding deeper against my pussy
. Yes.
One thick finger slips inside and begins to pump in and out of my dewy channel.

“Mmm
 … oh!” My needy cry cuts through the steam.

T
he most erotic voice imaginable rumbles directly against my lips, “That’s right, Carew, relax for me. I know exactly what you need,
princeza
.”

That accent, nearly
guttural in its intensity, unnerves me. But I have to ask, “Do I have a choice?”

He says huskily, “I think your body has made the choice for you
,” and continues with the steamy assault of kisses and finger play. His thick fingers pump relentlessly in and out of my drenched pussy.

My breath hitches. “Stop.”

He removes his fingers and pulls his head back just far enough to make eye contact. His eyes show amusement. “Is that what you really want? You say one thing, but your body begs to be taken.”

My eyes flare
with outrage.

“Put me down
,” I protest weakly, desperation threading my voice, although inside I’m coming apart.

“No.”

His sexy-as-sin kisses start up once again. His brawny size adds to my feelings of helplessness as I’m held, suspended, against the slick wall. His impossibly smooth lips meander down my throat, moving lazily across my shoulder toward my eager nipples. I gasp as his scorching tongue swipes over one of my tight, pink buds. It’s heaven.

“Please, please stop
!” The whimper does not sound convincing. That’s it, my last ditch verbal effort to thwart him. I’m losing this battle fast. My back arches, betraying my need.

He
continues to suck greedily as his huge hands kneed and explore my ass. Oh, hell! Is that me moaning like a sexed-up courtesan? I’m barely aware of his right hand sliding down the warm wetness between our stomachs. He tugs his black boxer briefs down his legs and kicks them impatiently into the far corner of the shower.

This
really shouldn’t be happening, yet I’m so amped up that I want to melt into this man.

“Oh, oh my!”
I call out in a breathy voice.

Both hands wra
p around the base of my ass and raise me up. I look down through the shadows and steam to see that I’m spread wide and perched atop the huge, wet crown of his daunting cock.
Sinful.

His lush
gray eyes bore into mine as he whispers, “Agree that this is what you want from me. There’s no need to feel shame.”

I shove all formalities and hesitation
s swiftly aside and nod once, knowing full well what I’m agreeing to. Our desire is mutual and he knows it.

With
a rich growl, he slowly lowers me down onto his hot thickness.

“Ohh, ah!” My cry echoes in the enclosure.

Pleasure and pain mix in a sublime, throbbing ache. My earlier thoughts were spot on because everything
about Zoran is larger than life. I try to relax and breathe deeply, hoping that he will fit.

He has me plastered up against the glass with his knees slightly bent, controlling his entry.
I’m drenched for him, but it will still take some maneuvering to accommodate his girth.

A
low, animalistic sound erupts from him as the head of his cock manages to breach me. I moan out in mindless pleasure. This is it. I couldn’t back out now, even if I wanted to. I don’t.

I will
never have better, I know it. It’s wrong, but I have to experience this. Experience him.

As he
thrusts into my gripping channel, I feel the first flutters of an unstoppable orgasm bearing down on me. His chest heaves as he slowly enters me, clearly struggling not to drill into me with everything he has.

“Agh, Zoran!” I cry
out as he shoves the rest of the way into me. His cock feels unbelievably massive and intense.

That talented hand snakes around once again
to rub my needy clit. It feels so fabulous that I’m having trouble focusing.

H
is stormy eyes hold mine captive. He speaks to me in a throaty rasp, his exotic accent thicker than I’ve ever heard it. “Tigar. Call me Tigar.”

With my forearms twined around his corded neck
, I lean in closer, staring deeply into his eyes, and whisper seductively, “Give it to me, Tigar.”

His mysterious eyes burn into mine a second before he begins to
really move. The sensation is euphoric. His thrusts are delicious as they drive into me. He is every woman’s dark fantasy come to life. His hip movements are so skillful that they surpass anything I’ve experienced or even envisioned. He’s not just good, he’s intoxicatingly incomparable.

His voice is tense as he asks,
“This is exactly what you need, isn’t it,
princeza
? To be fucked hard by a man like me, who knows how to control your wildness, to dominate you. To force you to yield. Isn’t that right? Tell me, Carew.” The intensity in his gravelly, foreign voice is so very thick.

H
is dark, precise words, combined with the relentless pleasure he’s bestowing on my clit, instantly make me come undone. I spasm hard around his length, crying out with the pent-up passion I’ve been wrestling with. I struggle for air as the contractions climb higher within me, cresting in a fever pitch of unbelievable, dreamlike pleasure.

His
pounding thrusts turn savage as he holds me suspended in his powerful arms. His mouth covers mine in a claiming kiss that leaves me lost for him. I cling to him, feeling completely vulnerable as he guides my body, working me up and down his glorious cock. I’ve always known that I wanted,
needed
a strong man. He exceeds all these fantasies by being the most masculine person I’ve ever encountered. At this beautiful moment, nothing on earth could separate us. The explosive energy we share is hotter than the surface of the sun.

Finally able to
form coherent thoughts, I wail helplessly, “Yes, yes, I need you exactly like this, Tigar!” I’ve never wanted anyone more.

He su
rprises me by tweaking my right nipple hard and growling out, “Again. Come again for me,
princeza
.” He’s moving so fast and forceful, in and out, pummeling my saturated pussy. His command sends me headlong over the cliff as my body explodes in another wave of ecstasy.

“Tig
ar!” I scream out, so loudly that it reverberates through the enclosure. I’m barely coherent, heedless of any words or actions.

He’s on
a mission now, fucking me so hard for his fervent pleasure. It’s as if he wants to brand me as his. My back is heaved up higher against the slick glass with each measured swing of his sculpted hips.

Suddenly
, his coordination breaks and the thrusts become choppier, more sporadic, just before he cries out, “Ugh, ugh, Carew!”

His
essence pours into me, so scalding that I feel as if I’m burning up. An untapped wildness within me actually welcomes it. He’s far surpassed what I ever imagined a lover could be.

We both
gasp for breath. His wet head hangs forward against my left shoulder. The closeness is bliss. Thick moments pass with only the sound of water from the shower hitting the stone floor as he holds me tightly against his heated torso.

His head lifts and the look on his
face is dead serious. “I knew that you would be this irresistible,
princeza
, but just so you know, I’m keeping you here until I find out exactly what you were up to in Zagreb. You’re all mine.”

Still dazed from the outstanding orgasm I blink twice and
try to read his expression. It’s stern, mystifying. He’s not kidding. The tides have turned and I know that I am bound to him by some unfathomable tie.

A
fter slowly lowering me down, he leaves me alone in the shower. I know that we both wanted it desperately, even if I’m too stubborn to admit it aloud. It’s the stark truth. Our sexual encounter was beyond comparison, leaving me shaken. We are two polar opposites that attract each other at every turn. I try to compose myself as the water pours over my body, but it is not easy. I have to steady myself against the glass. I’m still dazed from the unforgettable sex.

My thoughts turn to his last comment
. Maybe he found what I took from Juric’s computer, and in the wrong hands—namely his—it would be prime blackmail material. Only a professional would understand those diagrams, but he’s smart enough to know that it’s stolen material.

What if he
’s already called his boss? What if he just wanted a piece of ass before he hands me over? Fear begins to roll through me like a tornado.

A bold voice from the opposite side of the steamed glass cuts into my thoughts
. “Turn the water off and come out now. You’ve been in there for thirty minutes.”

I reach for the silver handle
, but I’m reluctant to turn it off. Having to face him is not high on my list of priorities.

“A towel
, please.” I hold my hand out, waiting expectantly. Nothing.

“Fine!” I snap and step out to see him holding one open for me as his scorching eyes drink in my nudity.

They take their time traveling over my body, as if he’s savoring a rare cognac. Let him look his fill, I’m still not fessing up to anything. I wish I could cross my arms in defiance but I don’t want to bump my tender wrist. I stand two feet away from him, dripping all over the wood floor. The room is toasty. He seems to keep a constant fire going up here and I have to admit his home is quite pleasant.

I reach
out to grab the towel, but he takes a quick step back, shaking his head in open disapproval.

“No
,
princeza
. Come to me and you may have it.”

What?
He can’t speak to me like that! And why does he have to look so unbelievably gorgeous this morning? The dawn light is beginning to filter in, highlighting his unique looks. A white, fitted polo shirt stretches across his upper body, showing off his biceps. Sexy, dark washed jeans sit perfectly on his hips. My eyes travel down to his bare feet and up to meet his serious eyes.

“I’m not yours to train
, big guy. Do what you want but I won’t ever submit to you!” I yell the last part and lean in, trying hard to convey whatever shred of power I have left.

One side of his mouth quirks up, as if he’
s stifling a laugh. “If you willingly come to me, I will give you clothes.”

I narrow my eyes and weigh my choices. Stand here naked and drip
for however long, or take the two steps toward him. I remain motionless for a minute before reluctantly taking the few steps into his arms and the soft, waiting towel.

His finger lifts my chin.
“See, was that so hard? You give me what I want and you will receive the same. Fair enough, right?”

I huff. I loathe being this helpless, feeling
vulnerable around him. He takes his time gently toweling off my body, stopping to lift my left arm, the one with the gash.

He removes the wet bandage and says softly,
“It is healing nicely.”

I
pull away, my irritability at a boiling point. “And why should you give a fuck? You’re the one that caused my accident.”

Cool eyes narrow
in keen observation. “That is not an acceptable response,
princeza
.” He points a sure, steady finger at the bed. “Now lean across the mattress. You’re going to be punished for that naughty mouth of yours, woman.”

I scoff and rake my gaze
over him in arrogance. “I sure as hell don’t think so!”

Damn, how can he be so calm when my blood is
racing like a fighter jet?

“It seems we are deadlock
ed, Carew. I really don’t like repeating myself.”

His accent is so sexy and rumbly that it unnerv
es me. I hit him with my very best ‘die now’ stare.

V
iper quick, he strikes, his strong hand reaching out for my wrist. Before I know it, I’m dragged across the space toward the bed, writhing and yelling, “Let me go!”

Unfortunately for me
, he doesn’t give a flip what I think. He shoves me down onto the plush mattress, my feet still planted on the floor. A large foot works its way between mine and wedges my bare legs open to their maximum width. The humiliation of being spread out like this is nearly overwhelming.

“I hate you! Get the fuck off of me!”

He takes his time leaning into me, my back to his front. Once his heat is soaking into me, subduing me, he whispers all too calmly, “You don’t hate me,
princeza
. You hate giving up your beloved control. The only person you have to admit this to is yourself, sweetheart. Now take your punishment for your disrespect.”

“Go to hell
, you jerk.” The last word catches in my throat as he withdraws his warmth. A hard swat lands forcefully on my tender behind. A huge hand between my small shoulder blades pins me down against the white duvet. I struggle wildly, legs kicking out in a futile attempt to get away from his relentless spanking. The blows are methodical and cover every inch of my rear and sensitive thighs.

“Stop
! Please, oh God, stop!”

“Not until you apologize for being rude.”

He keeps up the punishment as I try hard not to show how he is affecting me. Just his hands on me, even in this odd manner, have my pussy pulsing and longing for that perfect cock of his.

Oh
no. Please, please don’t let him feel between my legs.

I was hoping
he might be tired, but no such luck. In actuality he seems to be just getting warmed up.

Reluctantly
, I plead, “I-I’m sorry. Stop now.”

My cry
was faint, but I know that he heard me because the spanking ceases and only our closely mingled, raspy breathing remains.

I squeeze my eyes
shut as my earlier fear becomes reality. A lone finger slowly reaches down between my parted legs. A feather-light touch swipes the center of my dewy lips.

I suck in a strangled breath and hear him whisper, “So wet
,
princeza
. Mmm ….”

There i
s nothing I can do, save bury my face in the soft bedding and groan in shame. I can feel my face heat up from the appalling truth.

Thankfully
he inflicts only the one knowing touch before his hands and body are gone.

“Stand up.”

I wish he would just leave! I can hardly bear to face him after I was so turned on by his spanking. Reluctantly I push up onto my good hand and stand, brushing my pale, damp locks away from my eyes. He crosses the room and crouches down in front of the large, open wardrobe.

He reaches in and pulls out a pink and black bag. When he stands
, I take two shaky steps backward because his shaft is so huge and erect that the straining outline is visible though his jeans.

Ignoring my look of trepidation he says,
“These are for you. You will wear these and nothing else while you are here, Carew. Do not argue. You must know by now how strict I am. When you are dressed, come downstairs to me.”

H
e sets the elegant, pale-pink bag on the center of the high bed. Across the side, in beautiful black script, it reads, “Agent Provocateur.” Seriously? He’s joking, right? He must be. Does he really think that I will allow him to dress me up like some kinky sex fantasy for his pleasure? He must be off the rails crazy!

He head
s out of the room before I have a chance to toss out a sassy retort. I put my good hand on my hip and huff, eyes never leaving the mysterious bag.
What is in there?
Curiosity eventually gets the best of me and I drag over the oversized parcel. Searching through the thick fluff of black tissue paper, I find four identical boxes, each one secured with a silky black ribbon tied off into a perfect bow.

I
feel a little thrill, as if I’m about to unwrap a Christmas gift. I carefully pull the boxes out, discard the bag, and make quick work of the ribbon on the top box. Lifting the cover, I push the delicate, jet-black tissue aside and stare down at glistening white silk.

The
folded garment looks sumptuous, so much so that I’m reluctant to touch it. I reach gingerly into the box and pull it out by the thin spaghetti straps. It’s a floor-length nightgown with an indecently high lace slit from ankle to upper thigh. The bodice is adorned with an X of matching lace; small pieces of the silk are strategically situated to cover one’s nipples.

It is both
undeniably beautiful and supremely sensual. I can’t resist slipping it over my head. As the gown floats to my ankles, I marvel at the quality of the material. I have never worn anything so soft, feminine, and lovely. Peeking down into the box, I spy a matching white silk thong. The material is flutter-light. I step into it and slowly pull it up beneath the gown. I’m perplexed.
Why is he doing this?

I cross to the wardrobe, remembering that there is a
mirror mounted on one of the tall doors. Swinging it open, I’m stunned by the vision before me. The gown is so gorgeous and the fit so perfect that it seems to have been tailor-made for me. I can’t resist a little twirl. What girl doesn’t adore beautiful silk lingerie?

Hmmm, what else did he pick up on his little shopping trip?

Inside the second box is an identic
al gown, except this one is raven black. Matching panties as well.
Ravishing.
In the third is a supremely short nightie in cherry-red silk. It screams sex and devilish deeds. The thong is red and gossamer sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. His taste is impeccable.

The final box
holds a jaw-dropping, short kimono robe made entirely from white Spanish lace, so fine that I am reluctant to touch it. Why would he spend the equivalent of several thousand dollars on lingerie for me? I can’t figure out his reasoning, but I hope this is a clear sign he isn’t going to toss me to Juric or leave me in a shallow grave anytime soon.

I p
lace each item back in its box, excepting the white gown and new thong I’m wearing. I know him well enough at this point to understand that if I’m not downstairs soon he will come looking for me, and I seriously don’t want that.

I
make use of his brush and do my best to put my hair in order before descending the steps. As I reach the bottom step, my senses revel in the delicious scent wafting through the lower level of his charming home. My mouth begins to water as I wander toward the kitchen, suddenly shy about showing off my new gown.

A
fire blazes in the empty living room and low, calming music is playing in another. I stop at the threshold of the kitchen. He’s chopping vegetables on a large wooden cutting board and slowly lays the knife down as his glittering gray eyes meet mine. He is still. Too still.
Does he like what he sees?

A deep rumble cuts through the air
. “Turn around.”

Commands
 … again! Annoyed, I do as he asks and turn around in a slow circle.

“You look amazing
,
princeza
.” Warmth flows through his voice.

I’m still angry
about being held against my will and don’t want to miss an opportunity to let him know this. “Yeah, I suppose so, because apparently your boss isn’t the only one with expensive taste.”

Oh no
!
His features turn to granite and his teeth grind together. He is clearly furious, if the flint-like set of his jaw is any indicator.

A low,
stern warning erupts: “Watch your mouth, Carew.”

Without skipping a beat
, I plant a hand sassily on my silk-clad hip and and say, “Apparently you’re watching it enough for the both of us!”

I back up
, fast, and nearly trip over the long silk of my beautiful new gown as he stalks straight toward me, furious intent burning in his eyes. Apparently, I just pushed his boundaries to their outer limits.

Mental note
: he’s named ‘Tigar’ for a reason, and unfortunately for me, I’m about to find out why.