14. Can You Feel It?
~ brIDGET ~
That silk sleeping mask he’d made me buy was over my eyes, so I couldn’t see anything. But my other senses were heightened.
“Can you feel that, Bridget? Can you feel what you do to me?” Cain rasped in my ear and my belly trilled as he rocked his hips and I felt the hardness of him under his jeans, pressing against the crack of my ass.
“Yes,” I breathed, gripping the top of the car to give myself leverage as he cupped both my breasts over my shirt, then dragged his hands down, down, down my sides, then under the waistband of my yoga pants, his callouses scraping on soft skin, his hands so large that his thumbs pressed on my lower back when he cupped my hips.
Then his hands were moving and he was sliding my pants down, dragging my underwear with them.
The cool air of the garage shocked my heated skin and raised goosebumps that made him growl, long and low, burying his face in my neck and sucking hard as he bared me.
Then he had my pants and underwear past my hips and they dropped, puddling around my feet so I could step out of them, kick them off to the side while he kept his chest pressed against my back, his breath harsh in my ear. There was a clink as he unbuckled his belt and he leaned back slightly to give himself room to wrestle with his own jeans.
Bare from the waist down, I was already frantic for him and arched my back, bumping against his hands and breathing his name until he gave a guttural groan and grabbed for me, pulling me back against him and I gasped as the thick length of him slid between my thighs and teased at my most sensitive skin.
Gripping the rail of the rack on top of the car, I dropped my forehead against the glass window, then reached back with one hand to bury fingers in his hair as he groaned and growled, pressing, sliding, teasing until it was little more than a parody of what I really wanted.
“Cain… please—”
Face still buried in my neck, his lips and tongue dancing just below my ear, he reached around with one hand, between my legs, and pressed himself hard against me, still rocking, sliding, promising what was to come.
My body came alive, pleasure zinging from my slick flesh where he played and pressed, through my body, all the way out to my limbs. My skin sang in time with the rhythm of his toying.
Then he passed over my core and almost took me.
I sucked in, dropping my head back. “Oh, god…”
Cain brought his other hand up to cup my throat, holding my head back, as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin under my ear.
The jolts from where he pressed against me crackled through my bloodstream to meet the waves of pleasure washing down my back from his lips.
I was trembling, arching, begging for him. And Cain was shaking with me, guttural groans bitten off, his teeth scraping on my skin, his hands grasping, body jerking and twitching as he tried to hold himself back.
Then with a muttered curse he straightened. Before I could complain, he grasped both my hips and pulled me back half a step, nudging my knees wider.
“Are you ready for me, Bridget?” His rasp echoed in the garage.
“Yes!”
With a low rumble of need, he slipped two fingers into me and when I tightened on him, gave a husky chuckle that sent goosebumps up my spine. “Yes, you are.”
Then, without any further warning, he planted a hand at my lower back and pressed down as he plunged into me in a single thrust from behind. He filled me so quickly and so perfectly, I felt it all the way to the soles of my feet.
Cain bellowed and snapped forward over me, his hand clamping over mine on the roof rack, his chest hard and hot against my back. His fingers clawed between mine, gripping my hand and locking it in place—and then, with his other hand on my hip to control me, he dragged himself slowly out so that I felt every slow inch, my body humming and shaking with sheer, animal delight.
He dropped his chin, opening his mouth and biting down where my shoulder met my neck. The sounds that ripped from his throat belonged in a national geographic documentary—animalistic, brutal—those low snarls vibrating in his chest against my back.
As he picked up the pace and all I could do was brace to meet him, I reached back with my free hand, fisting his hair and holding him to me as he began a punishing rhythm that tore a cry from me with every pounding thrust. The pressure building deep inside me, and a growing promising pleasure that glowed on the horizon like the rising sun.
“Cain… Cain!” I gasped, struggling to keep my feet as my knees began to shake.
He growled and let go of my hand and shoulder as he snapped upright again, grasped my hips and began pulling me back onto him with each thrust, so hard that the sound of our bodies smacking echoed in the garage.
“Fuck, Bridget.”
“Don’t stop, I’m going to co—”
He snarled and pulled out of me so fast I blinked, then grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face him. I had to grab for his broad shoulders so I wouldn’t fall, but he’d already lifted me and plunged back into me, slamming me back against the car, grabbing that rack and pinning me as my back arched against the cold door and braced one hand on his chest, as he began to pound again.
I was pinned, utterly at his mercy. I hooked my ankles behind his back, gripped his shoulder and planted a palm on his chest, and focused on bracing to meet him. And in seconds he was grunting and that wave of promised pleasure was glimmering at the edge of my blackened vision again.
But that blindfold over my eyes was suddenly an unacceptable barrier. I needed to see the way his muscles corded, the tendons on his neck, the shaking of his shoulders when he came.
“I have to s-see you,” I gasped, needing his eyes on mine when I reached that peak.
“Fuck, Bridget, no.”
“I have to,” I breathed. “Have to. Cain… please.”
Bridget—” he hissed.
Still braced on his chest with one hand, I grabbed for the blindfold and started pulling it down, just as he roared.
All I saw was the flashing blade, the dim garage light catching on it in his fist as it descended in an arc. I screamed as it plunged into my chest—
—and sat bolt upright in bed, screaming, sweating, my clit humming, my heart rattling in my chest at a hundred miles a minute.
I blinked several times, gasping, grabbing for my naked chest, checking myself and…
And it was just a dream.
And my heart felt like it was going to explode.
With a groan that was half-disappointment and half-relief, I let myself slump back down onto the damp pillow and started my breathing exercises that were supposed to help my heart regulate.
But the adrenaline was flooding through me. The high of the arousal, the shock of terror, and now the ever-present threat of my body that could fail me at any time.
After a few minutes, when it appeared I wasn’t going to die, I made myself throw back the blankets and get out of bed. I stumbled to the shower, my body still humming with need and ended up standing under the spray and rubbing myself to a climax in seconds as I replayed that dream in my head—except for the part where he stabbed me.
God, please… before I die… let that dream come true.
I was still trembling a little an hour later when I’d finished drying my hair, dressed, and had breakfast.
My body wanted more.
My body wanted him.
But he’d said he had work today.
Did he work all day? Or just in the mornings?
Somehow I knew if I messaged and asked him, he wasn’t going to tell me. He’d already refused to say if he’d start hunting again immediately.
But I needed him to.
After yesterday, I knew he was following me. At least at night. And now he had my phone. He’d probably find the logs on it to tell him everywhere I went.
That was fine. I wanted him to show up.
It seemed like a good day to run errands and go to the gym and basically stay on the move. Tempt him to follow. Entice him to come for me.
It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.
So I didn’t even log in to the computer. Just grabbed my little purse and keys, and darted out to the car.
I couldn’t help watching the rearview mirror as the garage door rolled up. But the only thing that showed up in my garage this time was bright sunlight, because I had slept in and it was almost lunchtime.
I reversed into the street a little faster than necessary, then rolled towards the highway, biting my nails, praying he was keeping track and would show up. My own tortured words in that dream coming back to haunt me.
Please, Cain… please.
CAIN: Someone’s busy today.
ME: Stalker.
CAIN: True. But let’s not forget that I was invited to this hunt.
ME: I need my phone back. I also need you against my back again. Soon.
CAIN: Shameless.
ME: If it’s shame you want, come treat me like a naughty girl. And you don’t have to be gentle this time.
CAIN: Tempting as that is, sadly I already have plans for today.
ME: Do those include chasing me and railing me against a tree? Because I’m up for that.
CAIN: Such a flirt. Patience.
ME: I don’t have time for patience. Imminent death, remember?
He didn’t answer that one right away and I was frustrated. Because I wanted him. I’d known this whole game would turn me on, but I hadn’t ever had a dream that graphic and… hot before.
ME: Suddenly shy about the death part?
CAIN: No. Working. You aren’t the only thing in my life, Princess.
ME: Apparently not. You have my phone as well. Why?
CAIN: I needed to do some research. Don’t worry, you’ll get it back.
ME: Next time, just ask. You don’t have to steal. I’ll let you have anything you want.
CAIN: Temptress. Is that a challenge?
ME: Try me.
CAIN: I plan to.
ME: I look forward to it.
CAIN: You need therapy.
ME: You are my therapy.
CAIN: Well then. You’re fucked.
ME: I hope so.
ME: Now come get me.
ME: Please?
ME: You like it when I beg, don’t you?
ME: Cain, where are you?
ME: Anything. I’ll give you anything. All you have to do is show up.
ME: God, you’re annoying.
ME: Also hot.
CAIN: Not as hot as those rotisserie chickens you’re standing next to.
I gasped and looked up from the phone, scanning the entire deli and produce section where I was shopping. I turned a full circle, but there was no one in sight that could even maybe be Cain.
ME: Where are you?!
CAIN: I told you. Even when you don’t see me, I see you.
ME: Well, I hope I’ll see you at the river park. That’s my next stop. For a picnic. All by myself.
ME: You’re welcome.