Page 14

Chapter Thirteen

Quinn

Holy fucking fuck. What the hell was that? I thought I’d chosen the easy option. My eyes and nose stream, my throat burns like I’ve gargled with lava, and his cock is still jammed down my throat, stopping me from swallowing. Jacob slowly pulls himself free, and I stare up at him, come dribbling from my mouth until I get myself together enough to swallow.

He still holds my hair in a death grip, and the dangerous look in his eyes hasn’t diminished a single iota. But he stands up and holds out his hand to help me to my feet like a perfect gentleman. As if he hadn’t just fucked my face like I was a toy.

That’s what I feel like in his hands. A poseable object. A doll he can twist however he wants. Now I know how my Barbies must have felt when I decided they weren’t cool anymore and tortured them in fifth grade.

I take his hand and hiss as my ass leaves the wooden chair. It hurts to sit down, and then it hurts to stand up. So unfair. Once I get out of here, I’ll be a nervous wreck in the weirdest places. PTSD triggered by uncomfortable furniture.

“Bath,” he states, and I don’t argue. Maybe it’ll help the pain in my ass and thighs.

I follow him through his sex dungeon of a bedroom into the bathroom. There’s a big clawfoot tub in the corner, and he plugs the drain and sets the faucets running. He holds up a bottle of bubble bath. “Lavender. Maybe not your thing. You can get whatever you want.”

I blink at him. All I can taste is his come, and he’s worried about what bath products I like? Why would I give a fuck about that? “Get some prison soap. It’d really set the tone.”

My voice comes out in a scratchy croak. He tips in a hefty measure of the bubbles. “I’ll get you some water.”

“You’re too kind.” I try for a fake British accent, but it doesn’t really work. My voice is too rough, thanks to him. He disappears, returning a moment later with a tall glass of icy water. I take it, and the chill cools my throat on the way down. Before I realize, I’ve downed the whole glass.

I watch Jacob as he checks the water temperature and shuts off the faucets. He doesn’t seem like someone who wastes words, but I need to make him talk. If all we do is hang out in silence, I’ll never find out more about this place. He gestures to the water. “Get in. It’ll help your bruises.”

I snort as I pull off my little clubbing skirt. Does this weird place have a nightclub? Probably not. It has more of an old-man country-club feel. Boring as all fuck. “What do you care about helping them?”

He raises a brow before he pulls his T-shirt over his head. “You don’t understand me at all. I had to punish you, so I did. Once the punishment is over, it’s over.”

I’m hardly even listening, distracted by the perfection of his body as he strips. How does he look like that? He must spend hours in the gym every day. I’d kind of expected tattoos, but he has none that I can see. He folds his clothes as he takes them off, setting them neatly on the vanity, even though they’re covered in my tears and spit.

Folding dirty clothes? Has to be military, surely. “Were you in the army?”

He spins round, surprise on his face for the first time. “Yes. What gave it away?”

I manage not to laugh. This has the feel of a conversation and that’s exactly what we need. “Oh, I don’t know. The he-man physique? The OCD tidiness?”

He glances at the neat pile of clothes and spreads his hands wide in a “you win” gesture. “You clocked me. Well done. Three years in the army. Eight in the specials.”

“You mean the SAS?”

He smiles. “Yes. I didn’t have you pegged as an expert on the British army.”

“My foster dad served, so I grew up hearing a lot about the military.”

He nods thoughtfully, then climbs into the tub. The water level rises, and he settles into it with a sigh, arms resting on the sides like he’s a king on a throne. “In you get.”

“I’m not sure there’s room.” He fills the bath, and all at once, I’m nervous. This feels more intimate than I’m ready for. Ridiculous, considering his cock was down my throat only minutes earlier, but I don’t make the rules of my messed-up brain. Sucking my captor’s cock—not too bad. Cuddling with him in the bath—way too weird.

“Get in, Quinn.”

I’m starting to recognize his “I’m not playing” voice. I cannot handle yet another punishment. Not yet. I lower myself into the water and can’t hold back a moan as it wraps around my sore body. I haven’t lived in a place with a bath in forever. I’d forgotten how good it feels.

I crouch awkwardly at the opposite end of the tub until Jacob grabs me, flips me around, and pulls me on top of him, my back to his front. I wriggle against his grip, but it’s pointless. Giving up, I settle on top of him. It’s not so bad when he’s not looking at me. I close my eyes and try to stay in the moment, enjoying the scalding water.

He wraps his arms around me, and yes, it’s definitely weird. Why is he being nice? Might as well ask.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You took your punishment well.”

“But—”

“Listen to me.” He’s all serious now. “I don’t want you to be miserable. If I wanted that, I’d have let Kendrick give you to Edward. If you want something, tell me. As long as you behave, you’ll be well looked after.”

His hands start to roam over my body.

“What are you doing?”

“Exploring. Relax. You must have lots of questions, so ask them.”

An open invitation too good to resist. “What type of scientist are you?”

Why did I waste a question on that? I should have asked something practical. But I still can’t picture Jacob in a lab coat, messing about with…well, whatever scientists do. It’s throwing me off.

“Good question. I’m a biochemist, and my specialty is radical life extension.”

“Living forever?”

“Not forever, but much longer than we do now. Two-hundred years should be possible.”

Jesus. Since my diagnosis, I’m used to thinking in single digits, a few good years and then gone. Two hundred years? Why would anyone want to live that long?

His hands slide up to my tits, squeezing them and rolling my nipples between his fingers. I can’t stop staring at his big hands on my skin.

“You’ve got the most beautiful tits, love. I could play with them all day.”

I scoff at his words, though he said them with sincerity. “Bullshit. I’m flat-chested as all fuck. Hardly any cleavage even in a push-up bra.”

I used to get teased at school. I’ve wanted a boob job for years but have never been able to afford it. I’m not down on my looks as a rule. I like my toned stomach and legs, but my tits have always been a sore point.

Jacob pinches a nipple hard, and I yelp. “Oy. None of that. They’re perfect. Are they sensitive?”

He releases my nipple, and I sigh in relief as the pain fades to a sting. He brushes over it, and fire tracks a path to my clit, lighting it up. My body comes to life, nipples hardening even in the warm water. Jacob makes a low, appreciative noise that sets my skin tingling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of confirming that. I ask another question. “What do you expect me to do here? In the Compound, I mean. Just sit around all day waiting for you to come home?”

He pauses, one hand still occupied at my breasts, the other slipping lower. “No. You can do whatever you want. You don’t have to worry about money ever again. Food, clothes, education, the best medical care. It’s all yours. And whatever you’d like to pursue, let me know. I’ll make it happen.”

Best medical care? No fees? No more red-stamped overdue hospital bills like the one sitting in my mail right now. I know it's there. They've been getting more aggressive about wanting payment, and my recent trip will only add to it. And how advanced? If this is a compound of scientists all as smart as Jacob, maybe it's better than a public hospital.

Part of me wants to ask. If I’m here much longer, I’ll need to. No. Don’t think like that. I’ll be out of here before my condition becomes a problem. I try to make it sound convincing in my own head, even though fear prickles under my skin. Without my meds, I could die.

It’s almost a relief when Jacob’s fingers reach my pussy and I’ve got something else to focus on. I yelp and try to pull away as he parts my lips, but he’s faster, as he always seems to be, wrapping an arm around my waist and holding me against him.

“Stop that. I’m going to figure out what makes you tick.”

I snort. “First time you’ve fingered a girl? I can draw you a diagram if it helps.”

His arm loosens just long enough to shift up to my throat, and I go still as he wraps it carefully in his big hand, pressing just enough to make it clear how easily he could cut off my air. Adrenaline shoots through my system.

“You’re a cheeky little brat. Behave.” He gives my throat one hard squeeze, then renews his exploration of my pussy. When the rough pads of his fingers graze my clit, I stiffen. He pauses, too, then works his fingers back and forward, teasing the sensitive spot.

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I keep my lips clamped shut as he experiments, rubbing slow, then faster. Pinching it between his fingers. When he shifts to a rhythmic, circular motion, though, my body loosens against my will, my thighs relaxing as the pleasure takes hold.

He notices. Of course he does. “Like that, then? Good. Let’s try a little faster.”

He speeds up, pressing harder, and I can’t help the whimper that slips out. God, the man knows what he’s doing. That feels fucking amazing. His hand tightens again on my throat, just a little, and the combination is electric.

“You only get to come when I say so.”

I’m barely listening now. I’m so close to the edge. I need this.

“If you want to come now, ask me nicely. None of your sarcasm.”

What? No. Fucking no. My belly tightens, ready for release, but I bite my lip. No. I’m not doing it. I’ll sort myself out later, when he’s asleep.

His fingers slow right before I would have passed the point of no return. He moves them lazily, now, then slides them away from my clit. My pussy spasms in disappointment as his fingers press against my entrance. All my nerve endings scream, craving friction. I should have just fucking asked.

He slides one thick finger inside me, then a second with difficulty. “Fuck me, you’re tight.” He pauses, then asks. “Are you a virgin?”

I let out a laugh. “No. I’m just built that way.”

“Hmmmm.” He pumps his fingers slowly, and it feels far too good. “I’m going to enjoy stretching you out to fit me.”

Jesus. Something about those words and the image of him molding my body to fit his, has my pussy clenching around his fingers. Why did that turn me on? His thumb brushes my clit, and this time, I can’t stifle my moan.

“Oh, you like that idea, do you? Well, it’s not just your pussy I’ll be stretching, it's your little arse, too. I bet that’s even tighter.”

My body, which apparently has a mind of its own, clenches again at that, though my brain is smart enough to be terrified. “You can’t. You won’t fit.”

“Oh yes I will. We’ll work with plugs over the next few days, then I’ll spend the whole weekend buried in your arse. That’s a promise.”

Jesus shitting hell. The filthy words brand themselves into my brain as his thumb sets to work on my clit again, moving in those magical circles as he pumps his fingers in and out of me. My body sets on fire, surging back to the edge as if grasping a lifeline. Desperate for a second chance to get what it needs.

“Just in case you’re thinking you can get yourself off whilst I’m asleep, forget it. I’ve got a device to put you in. You won’t be able to touch yourself at all.”

God, I’m so close. Hovering right on the fucking precipice. Device? What does he mean, device? A chastity belt? Images of iron, medieval contraptions fill my mind, but even that isn’t enough to calm the desperation of my body. I need this.

“And if you don’t take this chance, I won’t give you another for a week. It’ll be a lesson in gratitude. You know what you need to do.”

I should tell him to go and fuck himself, but I’ll be the one to suffer, not him. My stomach is tight, clenching with the need for release. He’s punished me plenty. Why should I punish myself, too?

Fuck it.

“Please, may I come?”

As soon as the words are out, I want to call them back. Jacob makes a small, triumphant noise. “Yes, love. You may.”

He presses harder with his thumb, and I detonate. I bite my lip to stop myself yelling as pleasure explodes deep in my core, driven even higher by the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers. Oh my fucking god, this feels too good. My eyes roll, and I arch my back against his chest as the shockwaves ripple through me.

It was worth it. I'll ask politely again if it means I can have another one. I could get addicted to this.

And that’s dangerous.

It’s a sobering thought that dampens down the final ripples of pleasure. And a device? It sounds more sinister now I’m coming down from my high.

Jacob’s fingers still, and he says, with unbearable British smugness, “See? I told you good girls get rewards.”

“Fuck you.”

It’s out before I can stop myself. There’s a long silence, then a sigh. “You’ll pay for that later, love.”

“Why not now? Get it over with.”

“Because I said so. And anyway, we’ve got too much to do.” He pulls his fingers from me.

“Too much to do?”

“Yes, there’s your medical to deal with. And then we’re going shopping.”