Hostage (8 page)

Code

Something’s not right. I know it the minute I wake up. There are noises coming from upstairs, and that’s when it hits me—we overslept.

What the fuck?

We slept on broken down cardboard on a concrete floor, and we slept through the night? How is that even possible?

Wren is still pressed up against me—my front to her back. Her ass is snug against my cock, and if it weren’t for the fact that we’re totally not going to be able to sneak out of the mall as easily as I planned, I’d be lifting her skirt and shoving her panties aside again and sinking all the way into her pussy.

My cock twitches, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s actually grinding against me.

I’m not gonna lie. I’m a guy and I like sex. A lot. And fucking Wren last night was pretty fucking incredible. I can only imagine what it would’ve been like if we were somewhere other than a damp, disgusting basement of a mall.

She moves again and actually purrs. It sounds like she’s still asleep, but, damn, I like the sounds she makes almost as much as I like the way she fucks.

I can’t focus on that right now. My cock is so hard it’s not even funny, but I’ve got to wake her up and find a way out of here. I don’t want to stay around town, and I certainly don’t want to be moving around outside in broad daylight. Besides the fact that we don’t have any mode of transportation, I’m sure that by now, Wren’s face is all over the news and people are looking for her.

I’m hoping that my face isn’t out there. I’d like to think that I kept a low profile for the bank cameras, and I certainly used Wren as a shield as we were trying to get out of the bank—hopefully no one has an accurate description.

And hopefully the cops and the media are more concerned with finding Deke, since he’s responsible for murdering Axl and the woman he had taken as his shield. Surely a double murder is of more importance than bank robbery and kidnapping.

Crap, I can’t even believe this shit.

“Wren,” I say a little too roughly and give her a nudge. She hums next to me but doesn’t wake up. “Wren!” I say a little louder. She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. Her eyes are sleepy, and it’s hard not to appreciate that incredibly gorgeous.

All I can think about is fucking her again.

“Get up,” I say instead, as I force myself to stand up.

“What time is it?” she asks sleepily, stretching and yawning.

“It’s late. We must have overslept. I’m already hearing people moving around upstairs.” I get up and begin to pace. “I thought we’d sleep for a couple of hours and be out of here before dawn.”

“What’s the big deal?”

Is she fucking kidding me? “Wren,” I say, trying to sound patient when all I want to do is shake her. “The mall is open. People are moving around upstairs, and it’s daylight now. Do you really think that we’re going to just wander out of here without being seen? Do you think it’s going to be easy to just walk down the fucking road without someone spotting us?”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

She glares at me over her shoulder. “Look, it wasn’t my job to be the damn alarm clock, so don’t be an asshole about it. This is your great escape—not mine!”

Reaching out, I grab her arm and yank her close. “Correction, it’s
our
escape, or don’t you remember our deal from last night?”

I think she paled. I can’t be sure because the lighting down here pretty much sucks, and we’re mostly in the shadows.

She pulls free. “Fine. So what’s the plan?”

“I don’t think we can go out the same way we came in. If anyone’s up at the pizza place, they’re going to be in the kitchen and they’ll see us.”

“What’s our other option?”

“We go out the door in the corner which leads down a long corridor. At the end of it, we’ll hit a staircase that should lead to the outside.”

“Okay, so why wasn’t that our first option?”

“Because it could be locked. And we have no idea what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be clear of any people, or it could be where any number of rent-a-cops are hanging out having a coffee break. It’s risky.”

“No more so than the pizza place,” she said.

I know she’s right, but I hate the whole going-into-the-unknown aspect of it. I look over at her. “You’re going to have to be prepared to run. Even if there’s no one around, we’re going to have to move quickly and disappear into the trees before we’re seen.”

Wren looks down at her shoes. They aren’t the most practical things to be traveling on foot, but there isn’t anything we can do about it.

“Oh, and here.” Reaching down, I pull out the t-shirt and hat that I took from the pizzeria. "Put these on. Try and tuck your hair under the hat as much as you can.”

“Why?”

“Seriously? Do you have to fucking argue everything?”

She finally does what I ask, and I change into my shirt and hat, and we finally head out down the hall. I can see daylight peeking out from under the door at the end. I’m not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination, but I do pray that the coast will be clear and that we’ll get out of here unnoticed.

“Is it locked?” Wren asks when we approached the door.

I test the knob and am mildly relieved that it isn’t. I’m careful to listen, and I honestly can’t tell what’ on the other side. It’s now or never. I look at her. “You ready?” She nods.

So much for the power of prayer. Not only isn’t the coast not clear, but mall security is standing right fucking there. We walk out and shut the door, and the fucker spots us and yells, “Hey!”

I don’t bother to wait around to hear what else he has to say. I grab Wren’s hand and take off. She is much slower than I expect, and at times I feel like I’m completely dragging her. We are halfway across the parking lot when I hear the cop slamming his car door and starting the car.

Seriously? He isn’t going to chase us on foot? For all he knows we’re just a couple of mall employees screwing around in the basement.

I have no idea what time it is, but it’s late enough in the morning that there’s traffic in the parking lot, and he doesn’t get to us before we hit the bank of trees. I feel Wren try and stop, and I yell at her to keep going. We can’t stop yet.

I can’t remember the last time I ran like this. All I knew is that I finally understand the phrase “Run as if your life depended on it” because right now, it does. Not that I have a fear of the rent-a-cop, but that’s definitely not the way that I want to be caught.

“Code!” she cries from behind me. “I need…a break…please!”

We might have been running for a minute or an hour. I have no idea. My fucking head is spinning. We stop and I look back in the direction we just came from, and I can’t even see the mall so I’m feeling like we’re momentarily okay.

We’re both breathing heavily, and now I have to try and get my brain to engage and figure out our next step. For so long I didn’t pay attention to jack-shit, and now I need to remember what the hell is around here so I can get us out of the fucking woods.

Wren steps a couple of feet away. “Is that a motel over there?”

I turn to where she’s pointing to and almost want to kiss her with gratitude. “Yeah,” I say instead. “It makes the last motel we were at seem like the Ritz, so brace yourself.”

“At this point, I don’t even care. I just want to take a shower and sit on something other than a box.”

I hear that. “Okay, here’s the deal. This is the kind of place that rents by the hour. They take cash and no I.D., but I’d still like to avoid being recognized.”

“Okay,” she says hesitantly.

“Basically, we need to approach the desk like we’re desperate for a room, so if I cop a feel at the front desk, don’t go getting all prissy on me.” She opens her mouth to say something but clearly changes her mind.

Within minutes, we’re paying for our room—eight hours’ worth of it—while I have my hand under her skirt and on her ass. It isn’t really necessary, but I just enjoy manhandling Wren. I don’t remove it until we’re in the room. Actually, she removes it for me.

“No one’s watching,” she snaps as the door closed behind us.

The room isn’t nearly as bad as I imagined. Wren immediately sits down on the bed but I was too wired to rest. And I was starving. “Look, I’m gonna go and grab some food. There’s a convenience store right across the parking lot. I’ll be back in a few. Why don’t you grab that shower?”

Then the question occurs to me.

What trouble could she get into in the next ten minutes?

Wren

I can’t believe my luck. Is this idiot really going to leave me by myself in the room while he goes across the street for food?

And he thinks I’m not going to try to get away?

Maybe he’s one of those arrogant bastards who overestimates the effect he has on hapless women. Or maybe he thinks Stockholm Syndrome has already set in for me. Either way, I’m not going to complain.

I’m going to dial 911 as soon as he closes the door.

“Okay,” I say, standing up. I’m exhausted and hot from running, so I really wouldn’t say no to a shower. But, for the moment, I have my priorities straight.

Getting away from Code is the priority.

“I’ll be in the shower,” I add, walking toward the bathroom. Better to let him think I’m actually going to do what he says. My blood is pulsing with excitement at the idea that this ordeal might be reaching the end.

I’ve almost reached the bathroom door when he says, “Wait.”

I pause, my heart jumping into my throat. “What?”

“I don’t think I better leave you here after all.”

Damn, damn, damn
. “Why not?”

“Because you might just walk right out the door.”

“I said I was going to take a shower.” I try to sound docile and resigned, like escaping is the last thing on my mind. “I’m all sweaty.”

“You can take a shower later. Get over here.” He’s standing next to the bed.

“Why?”

“Just do the fuck what I say.”

I walk over because I can see in his eyes that he means it. He’ll just come and drag me over if I don’t obey. “What?”

“Lay down on the bed.”

I feel a little pulse of arousal at the blunt words, but I’m mostly upset about losing my chance to get away.

But if he’s thinking about the bed, maybe I can encourage him to think about sex again. I still think that plan might be the most likely to work. I sit down on the bed, giving him a slanting look under my eyelashes. I scoot back enough to make sure my skirt pushes up my thighs, almost to the level of my panties.

His eyes crawl over my body, and I’m sure he likes how I look.

“What do you want with me?” I ask, making my voice a little throaty.

“Lay down and raise your hands toward the headboard.”

I swallow at another clench of desire at the rough authority in his tone. I stretch my arms up as he says, stretching my body out, sliding my thighs together slightly.

He’s reaching in the bag he carries for the tape he used last night.

“Please don’t tie me up again.” I try to look pitiful and sexy both, and I have no idea if I success. I do some more squirming for good measure, until my clothes are disarrayed.

“I have to. I don’t trust you yet.”

“I’ll be good.”

Something hot flashes in his eyes, and I can see from his crotch that he’s getting hard. “I know you’ll be good, because I’m going to bind you to this bed.”

I gulp. “Please don’t.”

He starts to wrap the tape around my wrists and a thin piece of wood in a decorative inset in the bed—the only piece of the headboard thin enough to wrap the tap around. “I have to. I’ll just be a minute.

I arch up, pushing my breaths forward in a way I hope looks sexy. “Code,” I breathe.

“Don’t.” His eyes are still crawling over my body, and I know damned well that he’s turned on.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to turn me on. It’s not going to work.”

Well, I think it’s worked as far as the turning on goes, but evidently not as far as the distracting him from thinking clearly goes. I feel a flash of annoyance and disappointment at the same time.

Why the fuck can’t he think with his cock like a normal guy?

He tapes my mouth again and then runs his hand down my body, skimming the curve of my breasts and my hips, before he sucks in a harsh breath and turns away. He’s obviously managed to control himself.

Too bad.

I lay, tied to the headboard, as he walks out of the room. As soon as the door closes, I get to work.

The piece of wood I’m tied to in the inset isn’t very strong. Maybe I can snap it if I pull it hard enough.

I twist my body enough to sit up and then start to pull against the piece of wood. My vague hopes for it to break easily are to no avail. It doesn’t budge.

I only have a few minutes, so I keep pulling as hard as I can, changing my angle to see if I can get better leverage. I’m not sure how much time goes by. I’m yanking at it as hard as I can, until I’m sweating again and panting.

Then finally the piece of wood snaps, so suddenly that I fall backwards.

I can’t get the tape off my wrists, so they’re still bound together. But I’m not connected to the bed, which means I can get out of this room.

I jump off the bed and stumble for the door, taking a minute to try to pull it open with my bound hands. Then I’m outside.

It’s a down-and-out motel, so I’m in the open-air hall on the second floor. I’d scream for help but my mouth is still taped. I run toward the stairs. And I’m actually at the top of the stairs when strong hands grab me from behind.

“Damn it, you little bitch, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The voice I know very well, and it causes my heart to drop into my gut.

Then it’s worse, because Code is swinging me up to carry back down the hall and to the room. He’s really strong. He doesn’t even seem to struggle with my weight.

I fight him as much as I can, but unfortunately no one is around, and he has me in the room in just a few seconds. He dumps me on the bed, rips off the tape, and glares down at me angrily. “We had a deal.”

“Screw your deal,” I snap, practically gnashing my teeth in my fury. I try not to think about how smoking hot he looks, big and strong and furious with blazing blue eyes. “Screw you, Code. I don’t have to do what you say.”

“Yes, you fucking do.”

Then he does something I can’t believe, something I never would have dreamed of. It’s like he’s totally at the end of his rope.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and grabs for me. I struggle against his hands instinctively, but he’s too strong and he manages to pull me over and stretch me out over his lap, facedown.

I’m so shocked I can’t do anything but pant until he lowers his hand on my bottom in a loud smack.

I let out a cry of surprise and sharp pain.

“This is what you get for acting that way,” he growls. He gives me another hard spank, the sound as startling as the feel of his hand on my bottom. My skirt has gotten pushed up, and my panties are no protection.

That’s when I realize that my pussy is throbbing with arousal. And even stronger when he lowers his hand in another spank.

I writhe in his lap in a desperate attempt to get away, mortified by how turned on I am by the spanking. But he’s stronger than me, and he holds me in place.

“Oh God!” I gasp when he smacks my bottom again and the pained pleasure clenches hard.

“My name is Code.”

With the next spank, I gasp, “Oh, Code!” I push my ass up toward his hand because, for some reason, I want to feel even more. My bottom is burning now, but it just intensifies the pulsing in my pussy.

He grows still then, his thighs very tense beneath my stomach. Then his hand starts to stroke me, pushing my skirt up to my waist and rubbing over my panties and bare skin. “Have you learned your lesson now?”

‘Yes,” I whisper, pushing up into his hand. “I’m sorry.”

I’m not sure if I’m sorry or not. I’m too turned on to think about anything clearly. I whimper softly and squirm in his lap.

“Stay still.”

“I can’t.”

I hear him suck in his breath, and then his hand becomes more presumptuous. It slides in between my thighs and explores beneath my panties until he’s found my hot, wet arousal.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Oh, please,” I beg when he strokes me with his fingers.

“What do you want?”

There was no way I can tell him anything but the truth. “I want to come. So bad.”

He slides two fingers inside me, and I bend my knees to raise my bottom a little more.

“Fuck, Wren, you’re the hottest little thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice has an audible rasp now as he fucks me with his fingers. I start to shake as the stimulation builds. My bottom is still burning from the spanking, and that only intensifies the way I feel.

He’s still finger-fucking me when his other hand strokes over my warm bottom.

I cry out loudly with a sharp jolt of pleasure and surprise when he brings it down hard in a little spank.

“Damn, I can feel how much you like that,” he mutters. “Your little pussy grabbed my fingers hard.”

I burn with embarrassment at how true it is, and then I’m crying out loudly again when he spanks me once more, still moving his fingers inside me. He keeps it up until I’m practically sobbing with pleasure as I come harder than I’ve ever come before—my drenched pussy clenching around his fingers in rhythmic spasms that don’t seem to end.

I’m completely limp when he finally pulls his fingers out, giving my sore bottom one more stroke.

What the hell must he think of me, coming so hard from a spanking?

I’m not even sure what
I
think of me.

But damn it, I’m boneless from the lingering languor from my orgasm, and he moves me off his lap so I’m sprawled on the bed beside him.

He’s flushed and sweating and so hard I can see it clearly through the denim of his jeans.

At least I’m not the only one to get so turned on from a spanking.

The sight of him sends another jolt of interest through my body because I realize it’s not even over.