Hostage (5 page)

Code

That’s twice in one day that I should’ve been dead. I feel like a fucking cat with nine lives. The only problem with that is, the way that I’m blazing through them, those lives will be gone in no time.

Now I’ve got to figure out what the hell to do and how to get out of town—away from Deke and the crew. If I was alone it wouldn’t be a problem, but now I’ve got Wren.

Fucking Wren.

I should have just tossed her aside once we were out of the bank, but no, I thought it was safer to hold onto her as a hostage. Now Deke and everyone else knows she’s with me, saw what she looks like, and she might not be safe now, even if I let her go.

This is like the worst fucking day ever.

Confidence has always been my thing. I never lacked it—even in my previous life. But right now, I’m kind of freaking out. I’ve got nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. And I’ve got Wren.

I can’t even dwell on her presence because she’s here because of me. Eventually things will have to die down and I’ll let her go. But not until I’m sure that we’re both getting out of this alive.

The strip mall is closing, and it’s one that I’m fairly familiar with. Back before my days with Deke and the crew, I had managed to live here—like a mall rat—for a while. If luck can just stay on my side for a little bit longer, we can at least be safe for tonight. Deke may find his fucking car here, but no one ever knew about my connection to this place.

I yank on Wren’s arm, pulling her behind me.

“Where are we going?” she asks. I’m getting a little tired of her attitude. I know she’s pissed that she’s still with me, but there’s nothing I can do about it, and she should realize that by now and just shut up.

“Hiding out for the night.”

“At the mall?” There’s that tone again, and I whip her around until she’s in front of me and practically falling on her face. The only thing breaking her fall is my grip on her hand. She yells out in pain, and for a minute I wonder bleakly if I’ve broken her wrist. “Code, what the hell?”

Face to face, I bring her in close. “Yeah. We’re hiding out at the fucking mall. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s better than that fleabag motel, and it’s better than the fucking morgue. So unless you have a better idea, shut up and keep moving.”

She keeps moving.

She’s making me fucking crazy. One minute she’s arguing with me, and the next she’s helping me.

And God help me when she’s moving beneath me and making me hard.

I walk us around to the back of the mall and find my go-to spot. There’s a pizza place that’s open late, and they always keep the back door open. When you go in, you can’t see into the place—that entrance is a little off to the right. But to the left there’s a door leading to the basement.

It’s dark, and it’s damp, and it’s a little like where we hid out after the shooting in the alley earlier, but with a little perseverance, we move to another door which opens to a common storage area for the mall.

I motion for Wren to be quiet. The mall isn’t quite closed yet, and we’re going to have to stay put until I’m sure that everything’s shut down for the night. The rent-a-cops that patrol the place are nothing to worry about. They barely get off their asses, and they never come down here. I find a couple of boxes for us to sit on.

“How do you know about this place?” she asks.

“I used to come here sometimes.” I check my watch and mentally count down until the time we can move freely.

“Won’t that scary dude and the other guy find us here? Their car is right outside.”

“Nah, they have no idea about this place. They’ll think that I either hotwired another car or we took off on foot. We’re good for tonight.”

The good thing is that we’re safe.

The bad thing is that we can smell the food being cooked above us at the pizza place. My stomach growls. Wren’s might have too.

“I’m kind of hungry,” she says quietly.

“Give it another hour and we’ll get something.” She looks at me like I’m insane.

“Or…” she begins, “I could go upstairs and get something. I have cash. I can get us food and bring it down here.”

I laugh out loud, and that hopeful look on her face disappears. “You don’t get it, do you? People are looking for you too, Princess. And not just your daddy and the cops. Deke and Farris? They saw you. You hit fucking Farris in the face. You think a guy like that is going to just forget it?” I raise my voice as I straighten to my feet, and I can tell that I’m scaring her.

Good. Less chance of her walking away on her own.

“You may not have stolen anything. You’re not a wanted criminal. But you’ve definitely pissed off the wrong people. If they even get a whiff of you, they’re going to come after you.”

“But…but…”

I lean down close into her face. Her eyes going wide, and I can see the pulse in her neck jumping. “And they’re not going to play nice like I have,” I say through clenched teeth. “They’re going to enjoy you for a while. Repeatedly.”

She swallows hard.

“They’ll make you wish that you were dead by the time they’re done doing all kinds of things with your body. So no. You’re not going to just skip upstairs and grab us some dinner. Got it?”

She nods, and I notice tears forming in her eyes. For a minute, I feel like shit. She didn’t ask for this—any of this. I dragged her into it, and unfortunately, it’s up to me to get her out of it.

Get both of us out of this.

Eventually.

I sit back down beside her, and if I’m not mistaken, she shifts closer. What the fuck? I look over at her, and sure enough, she’s almost plastered to my side. I continue to stare at her until her eyes meet mine.

“Don’t let them get me, Code,” she says softly, weakly.

Hell, maybe I took the threat earlier a little too far.

Her eyes shift from mine to my lips and back again. Her pink tongue comes out to lick her lips. “Promise me that you won’t let them take me.”

Her breath is hot on my cheek now, and my cock begins to twitch.

Then she puts her hand on my thigh and all of the remaining blood in my head rushes south. I could cut fucking diamonds, my cock is so hard. How can I even be thinking about sex right now when things are so fucked up?

Reaching up, I cup her cheek in my hand. It’s filthy compared to her creamy white skin, and I feel like I shouldn’t even be touching her.

But I can’t help myself.

“No one’s taking you, Wren,” I say gruffly as she leans in a little closer.

Except me,
I think darkly and lower my mouth to hers.

Wren

My plan is working.

It’s definitely working.

Code is totally turned on as he kisses me hard. He’s thinking about nothing but sex. It’s where I need him to be. It will distract him, soften him, something, anything that might work to my advantage.

It’s wrong and sick and weird that I’m totally turned on too, but I just have to go with that. Survival is more important than the way my pussy is pulsing with desire right now.

I moan against his mouth because Code is just so
much
. He’s so much of everything—so big, strong, hard, and demanding. His mouth is devouring mine, his lips moving urgently, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.

I open to him—not just because I know it’s the smartest strategy but because I want to. I want to feel even more of him.

He pushes forward with his weight until I’m on my back on the box, which is kind of uncomfortable and unstable but it only sends the spiraling excitement clouding my mind even higher. I clutch at his broad shoulders and try to hang on.

“Fuck,” he grits out, tearing his mouth away from mine. “What the hell…”

He doesn’t finish the question, and I don’t know what he was really asking. Was he wondering why he was so turned on, when he was being chased on all sides with only a hostage for cover? Or was he wondering why I was turned on, when I should be trying to rip out his throat?

His blue eyes are like fire, and they rake over my face and then lower to my breasts, which feel like they’re straining in my bra, my hard nipples clearly visible through thin fabric of my bra and top. “You are so fucking hot,” he mutters, his eyes moving back up to my face.

He seems to be holding back for some reason—or maybe just taking his time. Either way, I don’t want him to have time to think things through or second-guess himself. I want him to let his cock take control so his mind gets completely turned off.

I’ve seen it happen to guys over and over again. They’re really not that hard to manipulate if they’re suffering from a raging hard-on.

So I arch my back enough to display my breasts better, my breath coming out in fast, little pants. I tell myself it’s part of the strategy, but it’s really not. My whole body is flaming, flushed, embarrassingly aroused. I’ve never felt this way before in my life. Not once.

“What are you…what are you doing?” I asked, making my voice throaty and just a little helpless. It’s not hard to fake. At all.

“Don’t act all innocent. You know exactly what I’m doing. It’s what you want too.” He runs one hand over my breasts, feeling the curve of them, the tightened nipples through my top.

I gasp at the jolt of sensation I feel in my pussy.

“That’s right,” he mutters, low and erotic. “You are so turned on right now. Just as turned on as me.”

“This can’t be…be right.” I can’t act too eager or he’ll get suspicious—I have enough sense left to realize that. I shift beneath him as he hands rubs down along my belly, then up to my breasts again, and then lower. All the way to my groin. “Oh God!” I close my eyes and turn my head away, as pleasure surges out from his touch.

“Who the fuck cares if it’s right?” He’s pulling up my top now, pulling it off over my head, then reaching around to take off my bra. “You want it anyway. Don’t you?”

I moan as the cool, damp air touches my bare skin, and then moan again when his hands start to move over my naked breasts urgently, almost roughly.

I like the feel of them—strong and dominant and completely in control. I press up into his hands, wanting to feel them even more.

“Don’t you?” he demands in a guttural voice. “Tell me the truth.”

“Oh, yeah! I want you. So bad!”

The sad—the really, ridiculously sad—thing is that I’m not even playing the part. Maybe all my body has ever wanted is for someone to take me hard, rough, and wrong like this. Maybe I’m just that screwed up.

There’s no way to sort it out at the moment, though, because he’s turning me over so I’m on my stomach, kind of bent over the box. And he’s pushing up my skirt and rubbing his hands all over my bottom.

I’m moaning and squirming and so hot I can’t keep quiet or stay still. When his fingers find my pussy, there’s no way to hide how aroused I am.

“Oh yeah,” he grits out. “I knew it. Your little pussy is so wet for me.” He slides two fingers in and starts to fuck me hard with his hand.

I fumble for purchase, trying to stay in position as the sensations build up fast and strong. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m close to coming from this crude asshole who’s done nothing but push me around and take me hostage.

“You’re pretty hot for such a little princess,” he says, his fingers working my pussy like a master. I can feel him watching as my whole body tightens with an impending orgasm. “I want to see you come now—just so you can’t deny how much you want this. And then you’re going to come again when I take you with my cock.”

I’m mumbling out all kinds of silly things as my pussy spasms eagerly around his fingers. The ripples of pleasure overwhelm me as a come. I’ve orgasmed before—mostly from getting myself off—but never like this.

I’m limp and breathless and horribly embarrassed and blazing with linger pleasure when he finally pulls out his fingers. I can’t even move. I can’t believe that just happened. I don’t even want to know what it says about me.

But, still, this is my way out of this situation, and I’m not going to miss my advantage because my body is stupid enough to respond.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, bending more at the waist so my bottom is in a better position. “Take me now. Take me hard.”

He wastes no time in undoing his jeans and pulling out his cock. I don’t even look at it. I can’t look at him. It’s better to pretend this is some rough, erotic dream.

I hear him unwrapping a condom, which is a relief. He must carry one around with him. I know a lot of guy who are hopeful that way—always prepared. I’m not sure what I would do if he didn’t have one.

Then I can’t think of anything at all because he’s pulling aside my panties and pushing his cock into my pussy. He feels big, and it’s tight, full, so good.

I groan and press back in response, but he doesn’t give me enough time to get adjusted to the penetration. He’s fucking me hard and fast. Just like I asked.

Just like I want.

“Fuck,” he grunts breathlessly, his hips pumping against my bottom as he thrusts. “Fuck, you’re so hot and tight.”

I’m making little sobbing sounds that are getting louder and louder as I feel another orgasm start to grow inside me. My whole body is shaking with his motion, and it just intensifies the sensations. I never come twice in a row.

Never.

“Look how out of control you are. You’re going to come again. Aren’t you?” His voice is as choppy now as his motion. I don’t think he’s going to hold out very long, but he’ll hold out longer than me.

“Yeah. Gonna come. Oh yeah. Please!” I cry out loudly as the sensations tighten down into a coil and then release is a rush of hot pleasure.

Then he’s choking on a cry of his own as his body jerks hard against me.

The spasms of pleasure go on for a long time, filling my whole body with a warm languor that’s impossible to deny. I feel good. So good.

After being fucked like an animal that way.

Mental health is clearly not my strong suit.

He pulls out of me and pats my bottom. “Damn, that was good. I never would have guessed it from looking at you.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, and I don’t like the sound of it. Guys have always wanted to fuck me. I don’t like the idea that he didn’t think I’d be a good fuck.

I turn over, rearrange my panties, and pull down my skirt.

He’s already buttoned his jeans and stood up. He looks relaxed, focused again, like he’s worked off his distraction.

I don’t like that idea either.

I’ve got to make sure I capitalize on the fact that he’s just enjoyed a really good fuck.

“Put your shirt back on,” he says, in the same curt tone he’s used before. “We need to get something to eat.”