Chapter 18
Trinity
I grit my teeth as soon as Brody starts working my clit with his long, thick fingers.
Damn. Why does such a small part of my body have such an enormous effect?
My hapless thoughts separate and disappear as I bite down on the inside of my cheek to suppress all noise.
I was in the middle of a recurring stress dream.
Angelica and I are walking down the street when the blacked-out van screeches to a halt at the corner. In my nightmare, the middle always changes, but the ending remains the same.
I try helplessly to stop those men from snatching Angelica—by fighting, screaming, crying—but no matter what I do in my dream, I never win. Those men always seize her, she always dies, and I always wake up, alone, sweating, afraid, and alive.
Unlike my beloved friend.
Tonight, though, was different. I woke up afraid and alive but not alone.
Maybe Brody finally convinced himself that I want him. Or maybe he was searching for proof that I did. Too bad it won’t work on me. The whole point of my psychoanalysis downstairs was to find some way to use his own delusions against him. Him fingering me is not part of the deal.
Think, Trinity, think.
Heart hopping, I struggle to ignore the pleasure seeping through me like water through a foundation.
But the touch is just so good, I can’t push past it.
Brody circles my clit with his heavy fingertip until my hips buck back, causing me to unintentionally align my ass with his erect shaft. My eyes widen when I feel his hardened length.
A short, clipped groan rumbles from deep in his throat as he rocks against me, grinding our bodies together, all while he teases my clit and pussy.
I shudder, writhing under his touch.
I can’t take this anymore.
If he keeps going, I won’t be able to stay quiet.
My silence is the only upper hand I have. Once I start reacting, I’m as good as a goner.
Brody’s breath heats the back of my neck. “You feel that?”
Tapping into my rage, I throw my arms straight down, shoving his hand away from me and out of my pants.
Catching him off guard, I roll off the bed and spring to my feet.
Without his touch sparking fuzzy heat through my whole body, my head starts to clear in the cool night air.
Shit. I have got to get away from him.
I don’t waste a single second as I march for the door.
I’ll wait out my eventual death downstairs.
As soon as I pull the door open, a massive hand slams against the wood above my head, forcing the door closed again.
In the semidarkness left by the star-filled sky beyond the windows, Brody looms over my shoulder, heaving in the dim blue of night.
Despite my fear, I fight to stand my ground and whirl to face him. “Get some sleep, Brody. You’ve got a busy day of evil to get to tomorrow. I’m sure you need your rest—”
“Shut up.” So much menace laces his command that I retreat until my back hits the door. “We’re not finished until I say we’re finished.”
His tone sends shivers crawling down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
Panic sprouts along the edge of my consciousness.
If he does demand it…will I fight him?
I’m not so sure my body would say no, even if my mind wanted to.
“Brody—”
Before I can conjure up some clever way to distract him, he seals his mouth over mine with such force, the back of my head rocks into the bedroom door.
A muffled squeak of surprise escapes me, but I sound like I’m moaning.
Maybe I am.
His hands attach to the sides of my body, raking up and down my skin with those tantalizingly rough fingertips. Clothes be damned, Brody drags his hand up the t-shirt he gave me and paws openly at my breasts.
I shudder and gasp, gripping the front of his shirt just to ground myself.
A growl gutters at the base of his throat as he pins me against the door and presses his pelvis into mine.
As my oxygen levels plummet and my heart starts to sprint, everything we’ve been through together starts to slide away.
I’m not thinking about tactics or strategies or psychological manipulation.
All I can focus on is the heat of his mouth and how his body blankets mine, anchoring me against the door at my back. How his soft hair knots between my rogue fingertips.
When did my hands get up there?
His forehead flattens against mine as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth.
Lines of electricity slice through my core, spreading to my fingers and toes.
I didn’t expect this.
God knows I hate to admit that this is the kiss of my life.
No man’s touch has ever riled me up this much. For several breathless moments, I’m completely out of my depth, succumbing to his savage kiss.
Returning it with an eagerness that I never anticipated.
My left thigh glides along the outside of his right.
With my knee bending on its own, I hook my leg around his waist. His low groan of satisfaction shoots bolts of arousal down to my pinky toes.
I’m afraid that if he makes that sound again, I’ll come on the spot.
How can someone who’s done me so wrong turn me on this much?
How can someone so infuriating be so absurdly sexy?
We’re all over each other, pressed tight against this door like some newlywed couple stuck in the honeymoon phase of their relationship.
With one hand, Brody clasps his fingers around my throat.
Not choking me, but holding me in place.
Owning.
Possessing.
And god, I want more of that hand on me.
He doesn’t let me breathe, not once, not until he’s dug his fingers back into my pants, into my underwear. I expect him to return to my clit, but he bypasses it altogether, instead dipping down to my entrance.
My eyelids peel back in hazy, lust-fueled surprise as thick, syrupy desire coats my insides from head to toe.
“Say you want it.” Between rasping breaths, Brody presses another ravenous kiss to my lips. “Say you want me inside you.”
My heart rattles in my chest. I’m so lost right now, the words tumble out in a strange, helpless whisper. “I want you inside me.”
I don’t even recognize my own voice. That doesn’t matter, though, because Brody got his wish.
He pushes two of his long fingers through my sopping wet gate.
I gasp at the depth he’s able to achieve with just one purposeful stroke of his hand.
“You’re so wet for me…” Brody’s words come out gruff. Heady. Reverent. He propels his fingers in and out of me like his arm’s motorized.
The sensation is too amazing to fight.
Fuck. My head’s swimming.
This feels world-ending, ground-shaking, hips-rocking good.
No. No, no, no.
Things weren’t supposed to get this far.
This is all wrong. This man is my captor. My kidnapper.
So why do I think he’s hotter by the second?
I’m losing the plot. I’m losing myself.
A long whine escapes my mouth as his fingers thrust into me over and over. Heat pulses through me, blazing hot enough to burn the house to the ground.
My nails dig into Brody’s wide, broad shoulders. Braced against him for dear life, I hang on as he fucks my pussy by hand.
He presses his forehead against mine. “You coming for me, Trinity?”
“No…” My own breathless response jars me. “No way.”
My resistance surprises even me. I’m not sure how to summon the strength to deny him.
But I will.
His mouth and hands may be magic, but I haven’t forfeited this battle yet, and I don’t plan to.
No matter what happens, I refuse to let him push me over the edge.
I won’t allow him to finish me.
He may have gotten me into this mess, but I’m going to get myself out. Even if it means fighting fire with fire.
I drop my hand to his loose waistband.
In seconds, my fingertips find his thick, meaty cock.
Hot. Stiff. Pulsating.
Couldn’t miss it, even if I were trying to.
Slowly, I wind my fingertips around the warm skin of his dick and gently stroke him. I’ve never handled anything so militant and yet also delicate before.
But I must be doing something right.
A moan of epic proportions barrels up Brody’s throat and straight out of his mouth.
I knew he was pent up.
His fingers falter mid-thrust as I vary my speed and grip on his smooth skin. I can already feel the strain of this motion in my muscles.
He’s got all the power and force of a machine built into his arms.
My arms are only suitable for lifting books off high shelves.
A vigorous hand job isn’t exactly part of my exercise routine. But based on Brody’s reaction, maybe I should change that.
The way he groans and falls against me instills me with confidence that I could bend him to my will, just like this. One stroke at a time.
Though with his touch, he could easily do the same to me…
Despite the distraction of my hand, he clearly hasn’t forgotten his mission.
After I enjoy a few powerful moments, his cock rigid beneath my palm, he gets back to fingering me more vigorously.
My head drops forward to rest on his chest as I drown in ecstasy.
My brain’s fighting tooth and nail to rationalize this, to assure me that this insanely hot, inappropriate shit we’re doing has some logical purpose, but it’s not working.
Probably because my body finding Brody’s irresistible has zero bearing on my survival efforts.
Over the next few minutes, all rational thought vacates the building as Brody and I become a tangled ball of pleasure.
Together, we release what must be years of stress and frustration through the touch of our bodies.
This is insane. This is madness. What the hell am I doing? Trinity, you idiot.
Oh, god, that feels so good…
Why does this have to feel so good?
“Yes, yes, shit…” Mumbling nonsense, I nod against his chest. “Right there. Right…oh, god…”
Despite the ever-mounting intensity, I don’t have any fear that this encounter will lead to more. Brody’s not trying to stuff his enormous cock inside me, and I’m not trying to mount him either.
This right here is all we need. His fingers in me and my hand on him. Our arms intertwine in the darkness. Our hands touching each other in ways that would have seemed impossible even an hour ago.
“Brody…” My moan triggers another groan from him.
“Just like that. Keep going.” He plunges his fingers deeper, tightening the growing coil around my core.
No… This bastard’s trying to make me come.
I’ve got to finish him before he finishes me.
I tauten my grip, circling the tip of his cock with my thumb with every stroke.
The muscles in Brody’s chest begin to twitch and seize up. I’m getting close, but so is he.
I don’t care how incredible his hand feels in my pussy.
I’m going to win.
When his head swoops low toward mine, I press up to him to give him a deep, long kiss while stroking him harder and faster. Anything to push him over the edge.
“Fuck!” Shuddering and loud enough to echo, Brody growls against me as hot, milky seed flies from his tip, painting both our shirts. I stroke him through the pleasure, shivering as he orgasms over my palm.
Brody slides his fingers out of me and braces himself against the door while the last of his cum oozes out onto my hand. The intense pressure between us dies, our frazzled pants scattered and uneven.
Several silent moments pass while our breathing regulates.
I quiver through the twitching aftershocks of unrealized pleasure.
I’ve never felt so incomplete. I really, really wanted to come.
As frustrated as my body is, my mind jumps for joy.
I beat him.
Once some form of eternity has passed, Brody backs away from me, slowly removing himself from my personal space. I’m cold everywhere he touched me, though my body’s covered in a sheen of sweat.
He throws his hand at the wall, clicking on one of several light switches.
After being in such heady darkness with him, the sudden brightness is blinding.
In the warm light, we can both see exactly how intensely and how much he came all over both of us.
Judging by the volume alone, this might have been the first orgasm he’s had this decade.
Though I can’t really judge. I’m still riding the wave of his caresses.
This dangerous, terrible man had me in the palm of his hand.
How did things between us become this?
The reality of our situation crashes into me. The clarity. The regret.
I just went to third base with my kidnapper.
Embarrassment curdles in my stomach like sour milk.
My undeniable enjoyment breeds more shame.
Hoping to avoid Brody’s irritatingly perceptive gaze, I glimpse away.
To the window.
Right where he was sitting before he crawled into bed with me.
His phone sits unattended on the windowsill.
Holy shit.
Brody strips out of his shirt. Without so much as a word to me, he wanders into the closet to find fresh clothes.
I’m alone. Now’s my chance to seize the freedom suddenly within reach.
This is no time to think.
Only act.
I cross the room as quickly and quietly as I can and snatch up the device. It’s completely unlocked. Probably a burner.
Even better.
While Brody’s gone, I manage to send a text to Finn with shaking fingers.
I guess at my location, but hopefully he’ll still be able to hunt me down.
As soon as I’m done, I delete the message history.
Like nothing ever happened.
When Brody wanders out of the closet wearing a fresh t-shirt, I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, innocent as a lamb.
My chest tightens with anxiety, but Brody doesn’t even give me a second glance.
He tosses a folded shirt at my chest and climbs into bed without waiting. He’s out almost the same second his head hits the pillow, like a toddler exhausted after a full day.
I change into the spunk-free t-shirt and climb into bed beside Brody. In the darkness, I try to calm myself down enough to rest.
Looks like I’m getting out of here after all.
And the timing couldn’t be better.
Obviously, I’m going insane.
Again, I just got to third base with my kidnapper, and I enjoyed every second.