Part 9 (1/2)

”Why?” she snapped, wondering what he was up to.

”When I say turn around, you will do it. Or do you wish to look me in my eyes while I touch you?”

What the h.e.l.l? Confusion zipped through her. What made him think she would let him touch her?

A jolt of energy slammed though her neck and s.h.i.+mmered throughout the erogenous zones of her body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, nipples, her p.u.s.s.y, even her a.s.s were all sensually stimulated at the same time. She almost dropped to her knees from the erotic impact as it curled through an unusually sensitive spot behind her earlobes, around her mons and even beneath her armpits.

The son of a b.i.t.c.h! There was something in the collar. An energy-not painful, but sensual. It electrified all her senses. It seemed as if she were about to...to have an o.r.g.a.s.m.

And then the electrical stimulation was gone and the impact left her breathing hard and antic.i.p.ating his next words.

”You must obey me, Kin-lee. It is in your best interest. I must show the Boys you belong to me and I can do so only if you obey.”

”I am not a dog. I am a woman,” Kinley replied sternly. And who in the h.e.l.l are the Boys?

His harsh scowl gentled and his tone softened. ”You are female. You belong to me. Do you not understand? Have you never heard of Death Valley? Of the Death Valley Boys and our ways?”

”With a quaint name like that why would you want to go back there?”

At her question, a flash of amus.e.m.e.nt sparkled in his eyes.

Her gaze flew to the small remote in the palm of his hand. To his thumb on a b.u.t.ton. An o.r.g.a.s.m box. That's what it would do if she didn't obey. It would stimulate her to the point where she wanted him to f.u.c.k her. Ingenious contraption.

She didn't want him pus.h.i.+ng that b.u.t.ton. Didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing her aroused again.

”Turn around.” His voice was cool once again. Cool and commanding. He held up the box in a threatening manner and she tried hard not to look down as he held what appeared to be a leather belt in his other hand.

d.a.m.n him.

She sighed in defeat, turned around. She could not move, could not protest as he placed the leather belt around her waist. She inhaled at the odd excitement s.h.i.+mmering through her as he pressed his body against her backside. His arms came around and moved her bound wrists closer to the belt at her waist. Within an instant, he clipped each of her cuffs to the belt.

Instinctively, she moved her hands to see how much give she had outward. She estimated about two inches. Yep, she was definitely caught.

Lulled by the soft, delicate sound of his breathing, she focused on his tanned hands as they moved from the clip to her naked belly.

She tensed, both loving and fearing this intimate touch.

”I will not take you against your will, female. But the Boys will. We must have s.e.x before we reach Death Valley. And when we do have s.e.x, you will be begging me for it,” he said in her ear.

Arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

She shook her head. ”I will never beg you,” she whispered, her voice thick and husky.

Heat chased over her skin as he slipped his hands beneath her top and under her heavy b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His palms on her flesh were scorching, enticing.

Oh G.o.d. Would he take her against her will even though he said he wouldn't?

”As I will never beg you, female,” he taunted.

To her surprise he didn't cup her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Instead, he pulled her back and closer against him. She stilled as the full outline of his very thick and long c.o.c.k branded her right b.u.t.tock. He'd obviously removed his loincloth.

The cloth she wore on her lower half was short and, from the imprint of heat las.h.i.+ng her, she would estimate his c.o.c.k at a good ten inches with a three-inch girth. Just as big as she remembered the times he'd m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed in the river.

A flash of her first time stealing into his camp slipped into her mind. She'd been so scared he would wake up, she'd grabbed the first thing stuffed in his pack. It had been that weird-looking hair blanket she'd found draped over her lower half the first time he'd finger-f.u.c.ked her. That blanket was what she'd used to make her clothing.

She may not remember who she was, but she did prefer wandering around the jungle with some semblance of clothing to protect her body from the las.h.i.+ngs of the ferns and branches. Thankfully the b.u.mp she'd had on her right temple was gone. That goose egg would explain her memory loss and jumbled thoughts.

Maybe it was better her memory hadn't returned. Maybe if it had, she wouldn't be feeling so...free? Obviously that earlier flashback of her pinned down by several men and being very afraid gave her the clue she had some issues to deal with.

Kinley blinked at that thought of being free. Heck, she was anything but free. Well, maybe in an odd way she was. She didn't have to think of anything. Now that he'd caught her, she wouldn't have to worry about where her next meal would come from or how she would get out of here.

She had to do...nothing.

h.e.l.l...reality check, Kinley. You are his captive. He is in charge. He has all the decision-making powers for your survival.

”Feel the imprint of my c.o.c.k against your body, Kinley. Feel the heat of my hands on your body,” he whispered.

For a split second, she did as he asked. The intoxicating outline of his c.o.c.k and the nice way his hands were splayed over her belly held her attention.

But then she realized exactly what he was doing. Why he touched her from behind. He was planning. Preparing her. Getting her used to his touch. Getting her ready for him. For those Boys.

She inhaled sharply as his hands moved slightly higher and his thumbs caressed the undersides of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. For some insane reason, she concentrated on what he was doing with his hands. Her p.u.s.s.y clenched as his thumbs swept upward and over her nipples. Instantly they tightened and beaded into hard pebbles.

She swallowed. Breathed deeply. s.h.i.+vered at the sensations. Centered all her attention on his touches. His heat. Him.

”I can feel your control lessening,” he breathed.

Oh d.a.m.n him, he was right.

He began rubbing his palms over her nipples, creating erotic sparks and unleas.h.i.+ng s.h.i.+vers. Wetness erupted between her thighs. Oh G.o.d! She hated this. Loved this. She was mad. She was high. She was nuts.

He tweaked, tugged and brushed her nipples, unleas.h.i.+ng fires of excitement. Flames of need. Fiery licks of want.

A pinch heated her nipple. She didn't have to look down to see what he was doing. Knew instinctively what he'd done to her. She inhaled at another pinch on her other nipple.

She loved it!

His breathing quickened. Hers met his and matched the rapid rhythm. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were heavy, swollen. Her p.u.s.s.y throbbed. She needed him. Inside.

She blew out a tense breath as his hands left the nipple clamps on her. The musical tinkling of the silver chains finally encouraged her to lower her gaze.

The outlines of the tiny clamps, her large pebbled nipples and the sensual outline of her swollen, heavy b.r.e.a.s.t.s showed beneath the top she wore. The visual aroused her. The thick band of his c.o.c.k pressing harder against the curve of her a.s.s had her p.u.s.s.y and her fists clenching in frustration.

No, she would not beg. She could stand this. He was just getting her used to his touch. But truly, somewhere deep inside her, she wanted to beg. Wanted him to beg.

Oh s.h.i.+t. He obviously knew how to torment a female, didn't he? Or maybe he'd simply guessed that she would love the way he touched her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Or maybe he was an expert at brainwas.h.i.+ng? Maybe he'd somehow put a suggestion of her wanting him into her head? Why was she allowing this man to touch her like this? She should be fighting him, shouldn't she?