Captive Read online

  CAPTIVE

  BY

  R.J. LEWIS

  Contents

  CAPTIVE

  Part One: The Middle

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  Part Two: The Beginning

  25.

  26.

  27.

  28.

  29.

  30.

  31.

  32.

  33.

  34.

  35.

  36.

  37.

  38.

  39.

  40.

  41.

  Part Three: The End

  42.

  43.

  44.

  45.

  46.

  47.

  48.

  49.

  50.

  51.

  52.

  53.

  54.

  Epilogue

  Copyright © 2019 R.J. Lewis. All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place, events, and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental. The setting of this story is completely fake, derived purely from the imagination of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

  Part One: The Middle

  1.

  Vixen…

  The bed dipped and a warm hard body pressed against my back. I felt his hot hand run down the side of my body and under my silky nightgown. His thumb traced along the edge of my panties.

  “Baby,” he whispered, his voice low. “I missed you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, praying he’d stop if he didn’t think I’d woken up. It was foolish thinking, but I kept waiting for the day he’d lose interest in me and leave me deserted on the bed.

  He didn’t stop his touching. He traced my panties for several moments. I felt him hover over me, watching the side of my face. Always watching me. Always gauging my reaction. I tried to play it cool. Let him think I was still asleep. Maybe, just maybe, he would leave me alone.

  But then his finger slipped under the hem of my panties and I felt him at my core, swirling his thumb at the nub of nerves, masterfully triggering a spark of pleasure in me. My body betrayed me as my thighs squeezed around his hand, begging for more.

  He laughed deep in his chest.

  The show was over.

  He knew I was awake.

  I hated him.

  I hated him.

  I hated him.

  And yet my thighs parted now, and my hips bucked at his touch, at the rhythm of pleasure he was pulling out of me. I bit my bottom lip, refusing to moan, refusing to let him know how good it felt.

  Pleasure did that. Fucking messed with your head. The second you were under the spell of pleasure, it didn’t matter who was giving it to you. It only mattered that you got fucked to orgasm.

  And Nixon…

  Nixon knew every inch of my body.

  Knew what made me tick.

  What made me scream.

  What made me beg.

  He played me like a fiddle.

  And I hated him.

  I hated him.

  Oh, God.

  A whimper escaped my mouth.

  “Ah, there she is,” he groaned in my ear, biting at my earlobe as he swirled that thumb in circles over my clit. “Did you miss me, Vix?”

  I didn’t answer, but my eyes parted open. The room was dark still, and I didn’t care there was a gun on the nightstand, the end of it pointed in our direction. He was always so sloppy with his firearms. It was like he threw his shit down as fast as he could just so he could slide into bed with me.

  His index finger slid into me, and I sucked in a breath. Oh, God. He rubbed me as he pumped his finger slowly in and out of me, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

  “I think you missed me,” he went on, amused.

  I ground my hips, lost to the feeling, grating out, “No, I didn’t.”

  He chuckled. “I think you’re lying. Your body’s telling me something different, baby.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Listen to it. You’re soaking wet, you can hear me fuck you with my hand.”

  And he was right. The sloppy sounds of his movements filled the room, and he went quiet just to make his point.

  I gritted my teeth, pissed off that he was so fucking cocky and right. “Not wet for you, Nixon.”

  “No?” he questioned lightly. “What then?”

  “Could be anyone.”

  I kept waiting for the day these words would piss him off. I tried so hard to let him know how insignificant he was to me. How little his touches affected me.

  But Nixon barked out a laugh and took it all in stride.

  He didn’t care. Because my body was telling him otherwise, and that was all he minded.

  He removed his hand and pushed me on my back. Propped on his elbow, he looked down at me in the dark with the cockiest smile. I looked over his face, annoyed at how gorgeous he was. His dark hair fell inches over his forehead, there was stubble on his cheeks, but it didn’t hide how cut his jaw was, or how raised his cheekbones were. His lips were soft and full, though right now his bottom lip was sporting a cut.

  Another fight.

  Another sucker punch to his face.

  He deserved it. I was sure he’d enticed whoever had hit him, and I was sure the other person looked far worse.

  Just as I was lapping his face up, he was doing the same. Always that look of utter reverence accompanying him as he looked me over, his smile turning wicked.

  I was his toy.

  Still fresh and new.

  Still unbroken.

  “Do you think,” he wondered, playfully, “if I sucked your cunt, you wouldn’t scream my name?”

  My heart thumped hard in my chest. I was never immune to his dirty talk. To his dirty fucking. To his dirty, cut mouth.

  I glowered at his arrogance, but I played along, feigning a yawn. “I think it could be anyone’s mouth on my cunt.”

  He groaned deep in his throat as a dark look crossed his expression. “Fuck, when you talk like that, baby, it takes everything inside me not to split your pussy wide open around my cock.”

  My body warmed. I felt the flush in my cheeks as my body zinged with anticipation. I could let him fuck me, toy with me, suck me to orgasm – it didn’t mean I cared for the bastard. It just meant I wasn’t a victim in all this mess, and I liked that. I liked that I didn’t let him ruin me a long time ago when he fucked me that first time as I cried in his arms, pleading for him not to kill me.

  I’d never told him to stop then.

  I wouldn’t tell him to stop now.

  That wasn’t how this was going to work.

  I wasn’t going to walk free from this by playing the victim.

  Sometimes I believed so heartily that I would find a way out of this prison.

/>   Other times, it felt like I’d die in it.

  And then there were times, times like now, when all that mattered was his cock buried in me. I often forgot who I was, where I was, who he was.

  Did I mention he could fuck for hours?

  Forgetting for hours was sweet bliss.

  “I won’t scream your name,” I told him, defiantly.

  His eyes came alive and his lips twisted into a sexy smirk. Nixon loved a challenge. He pulled my night gown up and over my head and then slid my panties down. I stared up at the ceiling, pretending none of this mattered. But my heart was stampeding in my chest, and every inch of me was buzzed with energy. His large body slid down the bed. He pulled apart my legs and kissed along my inner thighs. I swallowed hard, aware he couldn’t see me now that he was buried between my legs. My eyes glazed and my mouth parted, tiny little breaths coming in and out as he left tingles behind every kiss.

  He blew hot breaths on my pussy, taking his time now. I almost growled at him to just fuck me with his mouth already, but I went through the steps, opting to grit my teeth than to beg.

  When I felt his tongue run up my slit, my body jolted, as though I’d been struck by lightning. I felt his laughter vibrate through me, and I didn’t care now. I groaned at his tongue strokes, at his teasing light flicks to my clit.

  “Say my name, Vix,” he demanded, sucking at my clit.

  I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No.”

  He sucked at my clit harder, adding the perfect pressure to make my eyes roll to the back of my head. My hips quaked and my feet dug into the mattress. My hand almost flew to the back of his head, but I gripped the pillows instead, squeezing them tightly as he brought me to the cusp of pleasure…and then retreated again.

  Fuck, I hated him.

  Playing me.

  Always playing me.

  “You want to come?” he asked, sucking at me gently now, leaving me utterly deprived. “Say my name.”

  When you’ve been robbed of an orgasm, it leaves behind this nasty, horrid feeling behind. Incompletion and frustration swirled inside me, angering me. It knocked the walls of my pride down, made me insane with desperation.

  I was so empty, it hurt.

  “Please,” I whispered, begging. “Please…”

  Please don’t make me say it.

  He sucked me hard, and I groaned in surprise, nearing that edge again.

  Oh, my God, was he going to give me this?

  A victory, at last.

  My hands flew to his head, and I sank my nails into his scalp, forcing him to stay. He ate me out, groaning along with me, like this was pleasurable to him.

  And there it was, that blinding flash of pleasure approaching.

  “Nixon,” I whimpered, unable to stop. “Nixon!”

  I came hard, his hands pinning my hips down so I could ride the wave of pleasure with his mouth never leaving me, his tongue buried inside me.

  I could feel his lips spread, feel his smile, and I wanted to claw his eyes out. He’d done it again. He’d won. I’d said his fucking name and he hadn’t pried it out of me.

  As he moved back over me, his naked body broad and muscled, he settled over me, crashing his mouth against mine. He parted my lips and lapped his tongue against mine, forcing me to taste my juices. He loved this sort of shit.

  “Kinky bastard,” I murmured into his mouth, biting gently at his bottom lip.

  He chuckled, staring into my eyes as he nudged his cock between my legs, prodding my entrance. “How do you want this kinky bastard to fuck you, Vix?”

  I clawed my fingernails down his back and grabbed at his ass. “Hard,” I demanded, nipping at his jaw. “Real fucking hard, Nixon.”

  With a smirk, he delivered just that. He thrust into me, hard and punishing. I felt his balls slap against my ass as he delivered blow after painful blow. Between thrusts, he swatted at my breasts, watching them redden beneath him. The sting sent jolts to my belly, dizzying me with need. Sweat trickled down his face, his pants came out hard and scattered. He watched me, his eyes never straying from my face, as he fucked me until I came apart beneath him.

  I cried his name out again, and he wore that look of victory.

  He came straight after me, tensing over me, the veins in his neck protruding as he groaned through his pleasure.

  His body dropped down beside me and he let out a long exhale. We both stared at the ceiling for several quiet moments. His hand went over me, trailing down my body, rubbing gently at my pussy. His finger nudged at my entrance, swirling my come and his lazily around my folds.

  “Did you miss me, Vix?” he asked again, curiously this time.

  A tear rolled down my face. “Yes,” I whispered, hating myself for admitting it.

  He grunted in response, satisfied. “We got paid handsomely.”

  “You got paid,” I corrected, icily. “I took no part in it.”

  “I’m ensuring our future.”

  More tears fell. “When will you set me free?”

  His strokes never paused. My question didn’t phase him. “You’re free already. You got everything here at your disposal.”

  I scoffed, shaking my head angrily. “I am a prisoner here, Nixon.”

  “I make sure you’re safe.”

  “Stop lying to me.”

  “I’m not letting you go.” He moved his finger inside me now, pumping me slowly, building the sparks up again. “You belong with me, Vix. I caught you. I killed for you. You’re mine.”

  He said it so casually. Like it wasn’t my fucking life in the palm of his hand that he was slowly squeezing the soul out of.

  He distracted me with his touch, swirling that finger until I was raising my hips needily for that orgasm.

  “You’re a hungry little kitten tonight,” he commented, swallowing my mouth as I came undone. He kissed me like I was the air he breathed, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

  And I kissed him with the same intensity because I was attached to him in a horribly fundamental way.

  He fucked me again, harder this time, trying to touch my soul in the process. But I never relented.

  My soul belonged to me.

  The wall I’d built since he locked me in this place never wavered. I fortified that motherfucker so he could never have it.

  My soul…

  Goddammit.

  “Nixon,” I groaned as I came again and again.

  My soul belonged to me.

  2.

  Tyrone…

  Nixon lived in the penthouse apartment of Hotel Browning. Tyrone thought it was real fucking weird for a dude to live in a hotel, but it made sense after a while.

  Hotel Browning was the most luxurious hotel in the Gulf Islands. Located on Grander Island, it was surrounded by nature reserves and frequented by hippy tourists and the super wealthy.

  There was so much fucking money on the island, and Nixon had buckets of it. He could afford just about anything.

  Including eyes and ears.

  Hotel Browning afforded him the best security for him and his hot piece of ass. He worshipped Vixen.

  No, for real.

  Tyrone had never seen this kind of worship since the Helen of Troy.

  He had to shake his head as he sat in Nixon’s penthouse living room, listening to the crazy motherfucking fight happening in the bedroom. There was a lot of doors being slammed, a lot of screaming, a lot of shit being broken.

  Oh, and none of it was coming from Nixon.

  He wondered if the fucker was dead.

  He couldn’t blame the girl for trying.

  Nixon had savagely annihilated his entire crew for her. She was his property, no doubt about it. She lived and breathed in Hotel Browning and had never been allowed to leave it.

  So yeah, maybe she killed him, and maybe she was screaming over his dead body.

  But then he heard him.

  “Shh, baby,” he murmured. “Baby, baby, baby…”

  As Tyrone cringed, he knew deep down this
relationship was going to end in disaster. They were going to wind up killing each other.

  And he knew…

  He knew who would be the last one standing.

  3.

  Vixen…

  “You’re not being yourself,” Nixon said in a soothing tone. He stood in the middle of the room, done up in his black leather jacket and jeans, his hair neatly combed back. He looked like a sex god, not ruffled in the slightest he’d fucked me until four in the morning and slept for hardly three hours before starting the day.

  I glowered at him, tying the bath robe around my waist as I stormed past him and to the bed. The dress that had been put out for me to wear today was neatly arranged on the mattress, wrinkle free thanks to whatever maid had been in the apartment recently.

  They were always changing.

  Nixon was paranoid.

  Couldn’t have the same maid for more than a week.

  I was sure he’d employed half the population on the island already.

  I grabbed the dress and threw it on the floor before turning to him. His eyes went from the dress on the floor and back to me again.

  “I’m not going to your stupid fucking celebratory party,” I seethed at him.

  “We’re not celebrating,” he corrected. “We’re conglomerating.”

  “What does that even fucking mean?”

  “Means we’re going over another job.”

  “You just finished a job. Who’d you fucking kill this time? Some cartel king in South America?”

  “No, baby,” he let out a patient breath. “The cartel king I was after was here in North America.”

  I knew he was bullshitting me.

  He thought this was so amusing.

  I paced around the room, throwing glares his way. “You ever care that you’re killing people, Nixon? People with feelings and souls. Fucking human beings!”

  “You make it sound like I’m murdering little fucking elves at the North Pole.”

  “But you would, wouldn’t you?”

  He shrugged, half-heartedly. “If it paid well. If it put dresses on you like the one you just threw on the ground, sure. Pick it up, baby, and put it on.”

  “No,” I refused. “I’m not going to be your fucking fluff on the side this time. Go find someone else.”