Chapter 6 Delilah #2
His dick twitches in his pants, and the responding thud in my clit has heat flooding my cheeks. Despite what happened last night in this very cell with Kiefer, I shut that out and just allow myself to feel.
There are parts of my body that are very interested in what Arrow and I are doing, even if I’m trying my damnedest not to let myself be too affected by any of it.
I’ll pretend this is an out-of-control fever dream and that I’m anywhere but in this dingy, dank cellar.
My heart seizes in my chest as a knot of electric tension spools and coils tighter and tighter in my core until there’s no denying the dampness invading my pussy.
I’m fighting against every signal my brain is sending to the rest of my body, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
Arrow’s hands continue to guide me, gently rolling my pulsing, aching center over his cock.
His fingers tug, gathering the gauzy fabric separating us upward, exposing my lower half to the chilled air.
It doesn’t take but another few thuds of my heart before rough hands splay out over the skin of my bare ass.
I let out a little whimper that falls from my lips like the most natural thing I’ve ever done.
Startled, I lift my head and brace my arms on his chest. I don’t know if I was expecting him to be faking sleep the same way I had been, but his pale-blue eyes are locked on me.
His hands squeeze, kneading my ass as we move together.
Lust burns between us, a hunger that threatens at any moment to completely unravel me. His lips part as I look at him from under a hooded gaze and rock while grinding down. Sparks shoot along my spine, and my nipples tighten into hard little pebbles poking off my chest.
This is so wrong, yet I can’t help but go along with it, letting myself feel everything as sensation crashes through my body, even though my mind is getting twisted up at what I’m doing.
Sitting more upright, I slide my hands lower, skimming them over musculature that Arrow’s clearly earned through the sort of intense physical labor that comes from doing his part to keep a community like this running.
His stomach dips as my thumb runs downward, tracing the dusting of dark blond hair that leads into his pants.
“Delilah,” he groans out, tipping his hips higher. “Fuuuck.”
It’s hard to say whether I do it because this is my chance to move forward with my plan or because it feels good, but in response, I work my pussy over the hard line of his cock.
With every intermittent gasp and soft sigh that falls from my lips, he looks like he might fall apart.
In the dim light, I can just barely make out that his jaw has gone rigid.
His hold is tight on me, muscles tense as I push him toward the cliff that threatens. I don’t even feel bad about it.
My pulse is a steady, unrelenting beat in my clit.
Heat radiates between us, scorching me from the inside out.
Oh god. This is so bad but feels so fucking good.
His hands squeeze my flesh, and there’s no denying I’m getting the job done that I set out to do when his body begins to tremble hard under mine.
All the while, he stares at me as if mesmerized.
“Please,” he whispers, panting groans slipping unbidden from him.
There’s this starstruck look lighting his eyes and all at once, he jerks unsteadily beneath me.
All sense of rhythm has evaporated into thin air.
He’s so far gone, I don’t even know if he’s seeing me anymore.
His fingers clench, biting into my ass cheeks as he grinds upward against my body.
The rough texture of his pants creates the most delicious friction. My heart hammers in my chest and the tiniest of whimpers slips from me. “Arrow.”
Gasping, his lips part, and he makes a grunting noise as he drives his hips upward and freezes in place. In a daze, he stares at me, not even blinking. Seconds tick by, and neither of us move.
My brows rise on my forehead as I search his eyes.
Tearing his gaze away, he wets his lips before stuttering out, “I-I have to go.” Oh, shit.
Those hands that’d been attached to my ass like glue a minute ago, scramble.
Finding my waist, he lifts me from his body.
On his feet in no time, he slips from the cell with his back to me, only taking a quick second to lock the door behind him.
My brows furrow. “Arrow? Are you okay?” I think … I bite down on my lip, eyes wandering over the way his back rises and falls with each labored breath as he stands outside the cell, refusing to look at me. Oh my god. I made him come in his pants.
There’s nothing to be done or said, though, because a moment later the door at the end of the hall creaks open and footsteps sound on the stone.
My heart gives a lurch and I tense. Spinning around, Arrow backs himself against the wall, nodding at whomever it is as if he’s been innocently standing guard with the prisoner.
Whether or not that’s a plausible or even acceptable explanation for why he’s here will depend on who that is.
As the interloper approaches, my eyes dart down to Arrow’s hands.
They’re clasped together in front of his semihard cock.
My gaze lingers for several seconds on the wet patch visible behind them.
Some of that wetness is me … but not all of it.
Nope. Definitely not. My lips curve, and I can’t help but flick my gaze upward to meet his.
There’s a wildness there, only highlighted by the pink tinge to his cheeks.
I bite my lip, recalling the day I found him sprawled naked on the bathroom floor and how embarrassed he’d been.
I don’t think that he’s innocent. Not really.
But I’m positive he’s never experienced anything close to a normal, healthy relationship with a woman before.
Not that I think that’s what this is either because nothing in this fucked-up compound is conventional by any standards.
But … he’s actually spoken with me. Shared his thoughts, if only to the smallest degree.
And that’s a big deal considering he probably doesn’t say much more to any woman in the compound other than a quick yes or no when being served, if that even requires him to speak to them at all.
Twenty-One appears with a tray and pauses outside the cell.
She’s back to wearing the drab gray clothing all the women dress in around here.
I glance down at myself, still in the filmy white gown I’ve been in since after the bath that was forced on me last night, only now, it’s covered in dirt and mud and bits of twigs and leaves at the hem.
She eyes me then offers a cautious nod to Arrow.
I can tell at a glance that the cogs inside that one’s brain are spinning fast, taking everything in.
Shit. This is the second time this girl has caught me alone with one of the firstborn sons.
Anxiety curls in my stomach, making the food on the tray smell wholly unappetizing.
I press my lips together, waiting to see if she’ll say something in front of him or if she’ll save her vitriol for me.
Pushing off the wall, Arrow watches Twenty-One set the tray down, then stand to open the section of the cell to pass my meal through.
Warily, I get to my feet. My legs are shaky, but worse is the tightly coiled, unrelieved tension still thrumming in my core.
This isn’t awkward at all. The internal sarcasm oozes through me.
Fortunately, the orgasm that had been impending only a minute ago begins to ebb.
My eyes flick to Arrow. I can’t tell what’s running through his head, but he gives me a slight incline of his chin, and only a moment later, he races off, leaving me here with Twenty-One, a flushed face, and dampness between my thighs.
I exhale unsteadily as the least friendly of the women watches him go. When her gaze swings back to stare at me, it’s plain that she’s curious, but there’s also a hint of something else. Her mouth curves into a taunting half-smile.
They just had to send her, didn’t they? I pinch my lips together and do what I can to ignore the odd light in her eyes.
It reminds me too much of the way she’d looked at me when she’d warned me away from Kiefer.
I don’t claim to have any idea what’s going on in her brainwashed mind, and honestly, I don’t want to. I wish she’d just go.
A flash of her in the woods hits me out of nowhere, and I sway on my feet as I’m traumatized all over again by the fear of being caught and of everything I’d seen out there in the black void of the forest. This woman had not only been out there with more than one of the men—I don’t know which, only that the masks had antlers or horns or something—but she’d enjoyed it.
I look away. Look back. A flash of this woman getting fucked like an animal in the woods slams into me.
The warped look of rapture on her face is etched on my memory like a burn ruins skin.
I blink, coming back to myself as she finally goes to slip my breakfast through the slot.
She waits, eyeing me with an unnerving twitch of her lips.
Just as my fingers brush the edge of the tray, but before I can get a firm grip on it, she jerks it away from me again.
Shocked, I can’t help the blurted protest that erupts.
She raises a brow and shakes her head, an ugliness gathering on her face. I snap my mouth shut as my brow furrows. What in the hell? Exhaling hard, purse my lips. All I can do is wait and wonder what’s gotten into her.
Does she know that I saw what she did in the woods? Does this odd behavior have to do with that? Why would it even fucking matter?