Survival Games (4 page)

Jessica moaned,
her stiff muscles protested reminding her she over exerted yesterday. She
rolled off the mattress onto the concrete floor, crawling to the bathroom. With
gargantuan effort, she hauled herself onto the toilet and then stumbled into
the shower. Jessica dialed the water to the scalding point with the hopes it
would loosen her muscles. Water pulsed on her shoulders and drizzled down her
back and legs. After close to an hour, she stepped out, her muscles a little
looser, enough so that each step wasn’t drawing a wince. She wrapped a towel
around herself and brushed her teeth before looking around for clothing. No
clothes anywhere and her heart leaped into her throat.

She tightened the
towel and limped back into the room. He was leaning against the wall waiting
for her holding a slinky black dress. His blue eyes scanned her in a way that
made her heart palpitate.

Bedroom eyes.

The words pinged
through her brain trying to locate the source of the déjà vu.

“Put this on,” he said
and tossed her the dress.

Jessica caught the
garment and looked from him to the black fabric and back. All the hussies in
the videos he showed her wore garbs like this. “I don’t think so.” She tossed
it back.

He grabbed the
dress out of the air and stormed to where she stood. “Put it on,” he bellowed
and towered over her.

“No,” Jessica
growled up at him doing her best to keep the thread of fear from her voice.

He dropped the
outfit and grabbed her by the throat, slamming her against the wall.

The towel began to
slip and she kept it in place with one hand despite the fury welling, drowning
the fear. She swung her other fist at him and he caught her arm mid-punch,
pinning it to the wall.

His bright angry
eyes flashed when they locked with hers and the air between them shifted,
heating to the point Jessica broke out in a light sweat. Having him this close
was like standing a foot from a raging forest fire.

Her breath labored
against the grip around her throat and he let go. She gasped, inhaling much
needed oxygen and he snatched the hand holding the towel, slamming it to the
wall by her head, mirroring her other arm in his grasp.

The towel fell and
the smile that spread over his lips made Jessica shiver. He stared her down,
before his eyes dropped, appraising her and when they met her defiant glare
again a jolt as strong as the electric chair raced through her.

He pulled her arms
over her head and clamped down on her wrists with one hand. She struggled to
pull free, but his grip was too strong. He ran his free hand down her arm and
over her breasts, desire flared in his eyes.

“Beg,” he
demanded.

“It’s not like
you’re Smallville and I had reason to beg,” she spat at him. “Get your hands
off me you twisted freak.”

His eyes narrowed
and his nostrils flared. Enraged, he flung her toward the middle of the room.

The shock of the hard
concrete meeting the curve of her hip ripped a yelp from her chest along with
the air from her lungs. She rolled on her back willing her body to move, to
breathe, to get the hell away from the determined set of his eyes.

He swept the dress
off the floor and towered over her within seconds, frightening her into action.

Jessica swung her
feet and kicked him squarely in the balls, rolling away before he collapsed to
his knees, a low groan emitting from his lips and his eyes filled with tears he
blinked back.

She stood, a nasty
plum colored bruise covered her hip.

“You bitch!”

Jessica didn’t
wait for him to regain his senses—she launched herself in his direction with a
roar, her hands clenched in tight fists, swinging.

He moved quickly,
much quicker than she anticipated, parrying to block her punches and spinning
her around. His elbow caught the side of her face, dazing her as he swept her
feet from under her, bringing her to the ground hard. He pinned her to the
floor and glared at her with his lips clamped together into a tight thin line. “Cut
the shit.”

His deep voice as
menacing as a hungry lion shredding his prey and Jessica paused but the change
in his eyes renewed her efforts. He hauled her to her feet and dragged her
toward the chair.

She clawed and kicked
at him but was unable to break his grasp and he slammed both wrists into the
shackles on the arms of the chair strapping her in. She kicked, connecting with
his shin.

“Fuck!” Muttering
under his breath, he overpowered her and locked her feet in the straps before
stepping back to catch his breath.

Her breasts heaved
as she tried to do the same. Screaming in frustration, she struggled to break
free. Her guttural cry echoed in the concrete room.

He glared at her
through tousled hair and lowered his gaze to his arms, inspecting the gouges
she left behind. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to the
ceiling, sighing before he met her angry stare.

“Why couldn’t you
just put the goddamn dress on?”

“I’m not one of
your slutty sex toys!”

His eyebrows rose
and he broke out in a genuine smile, a laugh trickling out, full and musical,
the kind of laugh that would catch her attention on the street and produce a
smile of her own, but not here. Not now. She gritted her teeth, staring at him.

His laughter wound
down and he reached out to touch her reddening cheek where his elbow had hit.

She jerked her
head away from his hand, flinching. The last thing she wanted was for him to
touch her. The good humor in his eyes faded and he paused, his fingers inches
from her face. She could feel the heat radiating from them, the electrical
current buzzing between his skin and hers. His fingers grazed her cheek and he
slowly sank to his knees in front of her. His hand traveled slowly down the
line of her neck, his fingers tracing her skin lightly, enough to create a lava
flow that ran from his fingertips to between her legs.

“Get your hands
off me, you son of a bitch.” Her voice shook.

Dimples formed in
his cheeks and he pressed his lips together, suppressing what she assumed was
the beginning of a smile. Instead of heeding her warning, his hand glided down
to her nipples, pausing to run his thumb gently around the tips. Tips that
hardened under his touch and he leaned forward, taking her breast in his mouth.

Her breath
quickened, swears pouring out from between her lips and she stared up at the
ceiling, unwilling to respond to the inferno burning inside her. The inferno he
created with the touch of his hands and the gentle suckling of his lips and
tongue. Her hands balled into tight fists, nails digging into her palms as his
mouth traveled lower, pausing to play with her belly button, rolling the tip of
his tongue inside the small indentation.

His blue eyes
glanced up at her, sparkling with mischief and he chuckled, sliding his hands
up her thighs and pushing them apart. “Wild cat, you
are
my sex toy.”

His breath
tickled, running through the small nest of pubic hair cut in Brazilian fashion.
Then his tongue found her and she clamped her mouth shut on the moan that wanted
to escape. His technique exquisitely erotic and her body responded, despite her
best efforts to squash the glowing fire in the pit of her stomach. She could
not let him win. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her climax. That
would be as good as a death sentence.

She leaned forward
and threw herself back in the wooden chair, hitting the back of her head hard
enough to see stars.

He looked up with
wide blue eyes and his mouth dropped open.

“Not in a million
years,” she said and threw herself back again and this time darkness enveloped
her.

* *
* *

Ty sat back on his
haunches, tilting his head staring at her slumped unconscious form in the
chair, watching as the blooming color in her cheeks faded.

She knocked
herself out. Instead of cumming for me, she knocked herself out. What the fuck?

He stood,
retrieving the dress off the floor and slipped it over her head, unlocking her
wrists and ankles and smoothing the silky fabric over her skin. Picking her up,
he carried her limp body into one of the studio rooms setting her on the couch.
He left and came back with a brush and went about gently working the knots out
of her hair.

God, she is
beautiful.
Ty looked at her unconscious face, running his fingers along the
line of her jaw. He ran his thumb over her lips and on impulse, kissed her.

What the hell
am I doing?

He yanked away
from her and shook his head.
She is a prisoner here, not your girlfriend
,
he reminded himself and took a deep breath. Crossing the room, he unlocked the
cabinet, scanned the contents and grabbed smelling salts. He walked back and
studied her, a twinge of something he couldn’t place nagged at him and he
dismissed it, waving the smelling salts under her nose, jolting her back into
consciousness.

Jessica sunk
deeper in the couch and looked around, her eyes wide and confused.

The door opened
and his brother and stepbrother walked in. Chris Aris looked like the all-American
boy, light brown hair, sharp blue eyes and an enviable bronze tan despite the
long New England winter. If it wasn’t for Ty’s scar, he and Chris could pass
for twins even though they were five years apart.

Ty’s stepbrother,
Frank, was an entirely different story. When Jessica’s gaze landed on his dark,
not quite bordering on handsome Italian face, she squirmed in the seat. Ty
glanced at him, seeing Frank’s particular brand of cruelty reflected in his
irises.

Ty dumped the
smelling salts into the garbage and pointed her way. “Chris, Frank, this is
Jessica.”

“She looks a
little bit knocked around already,” Chris said.

“She put up a fight.”
Ty turned toward them.

They both winced
at the scratches covering his arms.

“Damn.”

Ty sighed,
glancing between his brothers and his prisoner with mixed emotions he didn’t
understand. The bottom line, he didn’t want her there with them and he scoffed,
tuning away, heading back toward the locked cabinet. Milling around, he pulled
out the syringe, filling it with liquid X, plucking the side of the needle with
his middle finger, making sure no air bubbles existed. When he turned back, she
was actually green with fright. Her wide eyes glued to the needle in his hand. She
wrapped her arms tightly around herself and curled her legs up.

“You guys might
want to hold her.”

Frank and Chris
grabbed her off the couch, peeled her arm from her chest and held it out to Ty.

She whimpered as
he stepped closer and he paused, meeting her frightened gaze. Annoyed at his
hesitation, he tightened his jaw in determination and slid the needle into her
vein, injecting her. When he pulled the needle out, she struggled from their
grip and took an unsteady step back.

* *
* *

The world went
fuzzy and she swallowed trying to satiate a mouth gone dry. She blinked,
focusing on the two men crowding her before she turned toward him.

“What did you give
me?” She stumbled back onto the couch and he leaned close, his blue eyes
intense bordering on irritation but his voice was just as smooth as the silk
dress caressing her skin.

“Just a little
something to help you relax and enjoy.”

He nodded to his
brothers and took a seat at the table, picking up the video camera and pointing
it in her direction, one eye planted in the scope and the other squinted closed,
his jaw clamped tight.

The drug settled
into her skin, numbing her, making her movements sluggish like the components
of a nightmare and a wet dream smashed together. Hands caressed her, sliding
the skirt up, rubbing her and plunging into her wetness. The slinky dress soon
in tatters as mouths and hands satisfied her, probing, licking, and biting. She
moaned and a hard cock locked it in her throat. She sucked, moving her mouth up
and down the hard shaft.

Out of the corner
of her eye, she caught him staring over the top of the camera at the lewd
scene, his eyes blazing daggers in her direction and she laughed around the
cock in her mouth, giving a great show of pleasuring the All American Boy just
for his benefit.

* *
* *

They had her on
her hands and knees, Chris fucking her mouth and Frank fucking her from behind.
And the bitch was playing it up, moving, writhing, moaning, sucking and sending
sly glances in his direction all the while. Ty watched with growing anger, she
was enjoying this to spite him. His aching member throbbed against the fabric
of his jeans, dying to step in and explore the depth of her mouth, the depth of
her pussy, the depth of her soul, dying to hear her call his name in that
sensual moaning voice. He clenched the camera tighter, refocusing the lens,
zooming in on her face, her lips sliding along his brother’s cock.

Anger did not
begin to describe the liquid poison burning his veins.
She knocked herself
out when I touched her and they
—
they get this sexy wild cat?

He looked over the
camera again watching as his brother arched in her mouth, shooting his load
down her throat. And she sucked and swallowed through Chris’s moans.

Chris stepped out
of the shot and she stared at Ty, the sly smile still playing on her lips,
moving, slamming her hips into each of Frank’s frantic thrusts, until he
seized, groaning and gyrating as the after tremors rippled his muscles.

Ty dropped the
camera on the table and walked over, oblivious of his two brothers dressing
behind him, and knelt in front of Jessica on the couch. He tilted her chin and unzipped
his pants. “My turn.”