12. Millie
12
MILLIE
There is no doubt that I should be hating being a captive, but I don’t.
This time, the cuff is around only one of my hands, and it links us together. He’s breathing slow and deep behind me, his chest touching my back with every inhale.
Probably this would be a chance to try to escape. The key is in his pocket, and there’s a good chance I could get it and lock him up.
Lying in the watery morning light, the scenario plays out in my head. I would feel behind me, reach into the warm pockets of his grey sweatpants, and would my fingers brush the solid weight of his cock? I’d silently undo the cuff, and attach it to the bed. Then I’d leave the warmth of his embrace and the bed, and creep out alone into the cold air. Not stopping for coffee, I’d get into the car, and I’d drive the whole way back to London myself, with no one to talk to or share the trip with.
In my apartment, Noah might not even be there, or maybe he’d be gambling on his phone when I walked in. Perhaps he wouldn’t even look up.
The thing is, he’d probably wake up if I reached for the key. Or worse still, he’d think I was trying to touch his cock.
I close my eyes so it’s grey instead of brightening sunshine.
Maybe I owe the mafia boss some loyalty, after all, he has helped Noah in a way I couldn’t.
I can see why women fall over themselves to be with Finn. Not only is he gorgeous, powerful, filthy rich, and with an edge of danger that makes him even more attractive, he’s unexpectedly kind.
The waffles. Dinner last night. Everything he’s done for Noah, brushing it off as nothing.
Plus, gotta admit… The orgasms.
What I don’t fully understand is why, when he made it clear he was furious I’d brought him here against his will, and he implied he’d have anything he wanted as compensation, he hasn’t taken my virginity. After his initial anger, he’s been nothing but considerate.
And the shameful truth is, I enjoy having him look after me. I really like there being no choice for me but to do what he says, and I especially love that this cannot be my fault.
I’m not responsible for what he forces me to do.
And his heavy, solid presence behind me and the memory of the way he touched me is delicious. It sends anticipation skittering through me. He makes me feel alive and hot in a way I’ve never felt before, and never with a man. Tingly.
I close my eyes and think of his face. The scars. I want to know the stories behind them. I want more kisses from his perfectly imperfect lips.
I’m getting achy between my legs, and slick.
This is so wrong. I squirm.
What if I… Take the edge off? If I’ve already come, I wouldn’t be so susceptible. My heart wouldn’t patter whenever he touches me, which is all the time given we’re joined by the cuffs.
Maybe then I could say no and mean it, or move away and not towards him.
He didn’t take my virginity, but surely he will? And how will I cope, being another notch on his bedpost when he’s everything I’ve ever wanted?
So I edge my cuffed hand down between my legs. The angle is awkward, but it’s possible.
The first touch is such relief, I let out a sigh.
Something in the air changes, and I press onto my clit harder.
“Millie,” Finn says, huskily, his voice rusty from sleep. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing!” I whisper.
“Are you touching yourself, pet?” He reaches around me, and I freeze, my clit throbbing. He knows. I can’t move, but I’m flushing scarlet.
I thought falling out the window was bad? I had no idea.
“Millie…” His breath ghosts my ear, and he pulls me roughly to him, so the hot, hard length of his cock is wedged against my bottom. If I was molten before, now I’m liquid. I’m steam. I’ve boiled off and become nothing but the places he’s touching me.
“If you need to come, all you need to do is ask .”