Hunted in the Dark Read online

  “Drink.” Jason nods at the glass. “Last chance.”

  I grab for the shot glass but my fingers are shaking too bad to hold it. Liquid sloshes out of the sides and runs down my fingers. It won’t be any easier when one of those fingers is gone.

  Oh God.

  Jason steadies my hands with the tips of his fingers so I can bring the glass to my lips without spilling it. Even through my terror, his touch causes a jolt of electricity to run through me.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Another one.” He pours another shot and brings it to my lips. With him at the front and Freddy at my back, my only choice is whether to drink or spit it back out at them.

  I drink. Warm liquid burns like fire as it slides down my throat and settles into a slow burn in the pit of my stomach. It’s not the first time that I’ve had liquor. I still remember sneaking a taste of rum punch out of the bowl at a Christmas party when I was ten. But this stuff is different, it’s rough and heavy on my tongue then hits me lower like a punch to the gut.

  I squeeze my hands into fists. “Just tell me why you’re doing this”

  “I’m not sure that your father understands how serious we are.” Jason nods to Freddy who grabs my left hand and forces it down on the table. “He will when we start sending him pieces.”

  The quiet certainty in his voice, heavy with something that almost sounds like pity, is what does it.

  I start hyperventilating. It’s just like when I had asthma attacks as a kid. My throat closes and my breathing comes in harsh, wheezy gasps. I can’t get enough air. My lungs squeeze hard in a desperate gasp for oxygen.

  “What the fuck—”

  “She’s freaking out.”

  I grip the edge of the table as the edges of my vision go black. My chest feels tight and my heart is nearly beating out of my chest. It feels like I’m having a heart attack or drowning.

  All I know is that I’m dying.

  There’s a flurry of movement. Strong hands wrap around my wrists as someone presses against me from behind. Somehow I know it’s Jason from the synthesized voice speaks in my ear.

  “Calm down,” he says. “Just breathe.”

  I let out the long breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. His chest presses against my back. I try to inhale but my throat only makes a high-pitched wheezing sound. Nothing is getting in. I start to panic again.

  “Slower.” The word rumbles against my back as he presses into me. “Take each breath as slow as you can. It’s just a panic attack.

  Just a panic attack. Like I don’t have good reason to be losing my mind. This is the man who wants to cut off your finger, I remind myself. As the steady beat of his heart thrums beats against my back, I find myself unwillingly matching my breathing to his. The rise of his chest pushes on mine as if he’s breathing for me.

  It’s too intimate.

  That tendril of connection that I’ve felt since the beginning suddenly feels like a line of communication between us. I understand something about him that I didn’t until this very moment.

  He doesn’t want to do this.

  And there’s a chance that I can convince him to stop and find another way. But what?

  Jason must notice that I’m calmer. He drops his hands as if something burned him and moves away from me. I can feel him watching to see if I’ll panic again.

  The time for panicking is over, I realize with a new determination. My fear and pain isn’t going to stop them. A pang goes through me as I wonder what they must have seen to be so immune to a woman’s pain. But I quickly push the thought aside. It’s me that I should spend my time worrying about. If my pain won’t change their minds, then I have to think of something else that will.

  “Enough,” Freddy snaps as Jason moves back around the table. He grabs my shoulders hard. “Let’s just get this done.”

  I hate him.

  “Wait,” I snap, with more anger than fear. To my surprise Jason hesitates while reaching for the knife. “You want something from my dad, right? Not money, but something else?”

  Jason waves Freddy back and the excruciating grip on my shoulders eases a bit.

  “Information,” he says shortly.

  “Blackmail, then?” I see the answer in his eyes. I have no idea what my father could know that’s this important.That man has spent his entire life playing a game of holier than them all. “I’m guessing he didn’t respond to your threats the way you wanted.”

  Jason levels a narrow gaze at me. “If you can call announcing his presidential candidacy a response.”

  I suppress a little start of surprise. Dad would have gone to the police. News of my disappearance should be broadcasting on every station nonstop. “You’re lying.”

  He shrugs like it doesn’t matter what I think. “Did you pick a finger?”

  “Just listen for a minute,” I insist, cursing myself as my voice breaks. “You don’t know my father. He’s stubborn. He won’t respond to threats of violence.”

  “And what will he respond to?”

  “My father’s whole political platform is based on traditional family values. It’s been drilled into my head since I was a kid — no booze, no drugs, no sex until you’re married. It’s why he sent me to a Christian private school that separates classes by gender and will expel you if you’re caught kissing someone of the opposite sex. The dorm has even has an eight o’clock curfew…”

  I realize I’m rambling.

  Jason plays with the hilt of the knife. “Get to the point, sweetheart.”

  I can’t quite believe that I’m about to put this thought into words. It’s almost too terrible to contemplate. It’s this or a body part, I remind myself.

  “The one thing that my father fears most is public embarrassment.” I swallow hard and fight the urge to just tell them to take my finger. “If you threatened to release a video of me in some sort of compromising position… my dad would respond to that.”

  Freddy makes a choked sound that sounds like a laugh. “Compromising how? Like sex.”

  I can feel the angry red began to rise up my face as I blush. “Something like that, yeah.”

  Freddy is laughing and the voice changer makes the sound harsh and synthetic. “I think she’s offering to suck our dicks.”

  My face is on fire. “Don’t be gross.”

  “It’s your idea, Mother Superior.”

  “And, not you. Just him.”

  Jason isn’t laughing. The gaze he levels at me is speculative, considering.

  Freddy notices it too. “You can’t actually be thinking about this.”

  “We can always take her finger later if it doesn’t work.” Jason looks at me and his expression is completely unreadable. “We can try it her way first.”

  I can’t decide if I’m more relieved or terrified.

  Chapter 7

  It’s a terrible fucking idea.

  I know it and I can tell from the incredulous look in Savage’s eyes that he knows it, too. But what am I supposed to do? If there’s any chance that the girl is right and we can get the information we need without cutting her up, shouldn’t we try?

  And not just because I’ve been thinking about what her mouth would feel like on my dick since the first time I saw her.

  Savage doesn’t want to leave the room. I practically have to force him out. Frost just silently hands me the camera but the message in his gaze is unmistakable.

  Be careful.

  I’m sure I’ll get an earful when I get her locked back up and we can talk freely. Frost has old-fashioned ideas about women and how you’re supposed to treat them.

  But like I said before — this is war.

  Finally, the girl and I are alone together but neither of us seem to want to break the silence.

  She still sits on her side of the table, hands primly folded in her lap and legs crossed at the ankle. Long hair is pushed forward to obscure her features and hangs down almost to her waist. She seems virginal and sweet, but that’s not
going to play for long. She’s trying to hide and a perverse part of me doesn’t want to let her.

  You shouldn’t enjoy this, I tell myself. I know that it’s sick and wrong to take advantage of her. But I’ll enjoy it, anyway.

  This was her idea. And it saves me from having to cut off her finger and mail it to her piece-of-shit father. Why should I feel bad?

  If I say it enough, then maybe I’ll start to believe it.

  She’s very carefully not looking at me, eyes trained on her lap where her fingers worry at each other.

  I tip the bottle of vodka towards her. “You want another one? It might help.”

  She shakes her head and glares up at me. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  I pick up the camera and pretend to inspect it. “You ever suck a dick before?”

  The look on her face is glacial. “What do you think?”

  “No chances to sneak away with some lucky young guy at that nunnery of yours?”

  “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  She says it so firmly that I almost believe her. Except she’s the senator’s daughter which means deception is in her DNA.

  “Your school would really expel you for holding hands with some dude?”

  “Getting caught holding hands is four demerits. Kissing is ten.” Her back is stiff, but I can hear the little edge of disgust in her voice. Maybe she’s not quite as prudish as she acts. “Sleeping over at the residence of someone of the opposite sex automatically triggers a hearing in front of the disciplinary board.”

  “Sounds rough. You can’t live off-campus?”

  She sighs. “Not unless I get married. Unmarried students have to live in the dorms. My dad would never be okay with me getting my own apartment even if the school would.”

  “Makes sense.” I don’t know why I’m pushing her like this, especially given what’s about to happen. I just have this sudden desire to figure her out. “Gotta make sure you save all that handholding for your wedding night.”

  “You might be surprised.” A small smile tips the edge of her mouth so briefly that I almost miss it. Then her face returns to its serious mask. “You have to promise me something.”

  “No. I don’t.” I don’t mind reminding her who’s in charge here. Just because I’m willing to try something besides cutting off her finger, doesn’t mean she’s calling the shots. “But you can go ahead and ask.”

  She frowns and bites her lip. “The video that we make… it’s just a threat. My dad will respond. And when he does, you have to promise that you’ll destroy it.”

  “You that worried about your reputation?”

  “I’m not worried about me,” she snaps. “I’m worried about my father. Something like this getting out would destroy him.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not more concerned about what’s going to happen to you.”

  “Should I be more concerned?” Her gaze on mine is level. It’s only the slight shaking of her hands that makes it obvious just how scared she is. “You said nothing would happen if I cooperated.”

  “And if your father cooperates.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “I don’t want to.” It’s the only honest thing left to say. I turn away to check the battery on the camera because I don’t want her to look me in the eyes because she’ll figure out what I’m thinking. “Let’s get this done.”

  She slowly rises from the table. “This will work.”

  It has too, remains unspoken between us, but I think we both can hear it.

  I push my chair back from the table. “It has to look real. Keep that in mind.”

  She frowns at me. “This was my idea, remember?”

  “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t need a second take.”

  Her gaze flits to meet mine, but she quickly looks away. “How chivalrous.”

  Something has broken down between us, I realize. Our relationship isn’t the simple one of captor and captive. She’d asked for something and I had conceded. Things have changed. And once we’ve done this, there won’t be any going back.

  When I spread my legs, she kneels on the floor between my knees. She feels more at my mercy now than she did when I was holding a knife to her throat.

  I shouldn’t like that, but I do.

  I lean back in the chair and hold the camera so it rests against my shoulder. The viewfinder is tilted so I can still see the picture. Her entire face and my body from the chest down are in the frame.

  Her hands tremble a few inches away from the crotch of my pants.

  “You sure you’re this good of an actress?” I ask.

  She smiles so briefly that I almost miss it. “I know I’m not.”

  I don’t understand what she means by that, but then her hands are on me and I’m not thinking about anything at all.

  Short nails scratch down the denim over my crotch. The slight noise is as loud as a gunshot in the silence that’s broken only by the sound of our breathing. It takes a few tries for her to undo the button with fingers that shake like leaves in a strong wind. She glances up at me but I deliberately keep my face impassive, giving her nothing.

  “Careful,” I murmur when she starts to pull hard on the zipper. My hips come up to help her pull the jeans down my hips. The front of my boxers are tented with the hard-on I’ve had pretty much constantly since I perched in the trees outside her bedroom window and watched her come out of the shower.

  I’m loving this power imbalance shit. Even if for the first time since this all started, I actually feel like a criminal.

  She pulls the boxers down and my cock springs free. I watch her face but she doesn’t look at me. The tip of her tongue escapes to lightly lick her lips. The expression on her face almost looks like arousal. For a minute, I’m almost convinced that she wants to do this.

  No, I snap at myself. That’s a trick, a play for the camera. Isn’t that the point of all this? It has to look real to be of any use. The little bitch just wants to keep all of her fingers.

  But it feels real when her hands slide slowly up my thighs. One hand curls around the base of me as her head moves down. A fall of dark hair swings over her shoulders, tickling my skin. I gather it up with the hand not holding the camera. Partially because I don’t want it to obscure the view, but mostly because I like the sense of control. I use my hold on her head to urge her closer.

  I feel the heat of her mouth as her lips part just at the tip of my cock. She breathes out, and it’s like a caress. My balls tighten and I almost come right there. I haven’t been this eager, or this easy to bring to the edge, since I was a teenager.

  Enough of this, I think.

  My hips surge forward as the hand twisted in her hair brings her head down. I sink into the velvet heat of her mouth. A wave of pleasure rolls over me and I wonder distantly if this is what heaven feels like — not that I’ll ever get the chance to find out.

  Her hands flatten on my thighs like she’s going to try to push away, but instead her fingers dig into skin and she presses closer. It takes every bit of willpower I have not to grab the back of her head and fuck her face, making her take every inch down the back of her throat.

  It can’t look like she’s being forced. I force myself to relax into the sensation of her mouth moving up and down on me. I slip the voice synthesizer out from under my mask.

  “Deeper,” I groan before I can stop myself.

  She glances up at the sound of my normal voice. But to my surprise, she complies. Instinctively, she relaxes the back of her throat and takes in more of me. When she deep throats me, it’s like an electric shock of heat shoots down my dick. It might be the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.

  I’ve had my dick sucked before, but there’s something different about this. Maybe it’s the muggy heat and the sweat coating our skin or the fact that this is not quite on the right side of consensual. But I feel like I’m sixteen again and getting the first blowjob I’ve ever
had.

  It’s so good that nothing else really compares.

  “Just like that, baby. You’re so good.” And she is very good, even if it’s just an act for the camera. Girl deserves a fucking Academy Award.

  My hips move with her, forcing her to take more of me and faster. I’ve been teetering on the edge since her she first touched me, but I know I can’t last much longer.

  I turn my gaze to the camera so I can watch her head bob up and down in the viewfinder. That small distance makes it easier for me to hold on to the fine edge of control.

  Even though I know she’s doing this under duress and that she’d probably bite the end of my dick off if she thought she could get away with it, I still don’t want this to end.

  “You’re going to let me come in your mouth,” I say, and not like it’s a question. I wonder if this will be the point when her little act gets to be too much. How far will she let me go?

  My free hand twists in her hair, gripping a hank of it by the root. I use the leverage to push her down onto me until her lips lightly kiss the skin of my groin. She gags and her hands catch on my thighs and I still don’t let up. But she doesn’t try to pull away or fight me. I feel the muscle relax at the back of her throat as she fights her own body’s reaction to the invasion.

  For a shining moment, I don’t believe it’s an act. There’s something between us, like a connection or an understanding. Not enough to change the reality of what we are, but enough to feel important.

  “You’re my little fucking whore,” I say. “You look so nice when you take it all.”

  The filthy words taste like sugar on my tongue. Maybe I’m just saying it to make the video look good, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it. I do want her to be my whore.

  Her eyes roll up to meet mine, but the expression in them isn’t scared or angry. It’s aroused. There’s heat in her eyes that’s enough to power its own sun.

  The sides of her breasts press against the inside of my legs. I can feel the softness of her flesh even through the thick denim that’s pulled down my hips.

  I keep the camera steady with an effort. All I want to do is toss it aside, pick her up and throw her over the table. Being inside of her just this small way is nowhere near enough.