Page 30 of Claimed (The Captain’s Captive #2)

His arms stiffened, his body tensing beneath hers, and Trish felt bad. He didn’t want to talk about it, and here she was, pushing.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about him.”

Jordan’s fingers curved over her hips, caressing, and he began feathering small kisses along her neck again as Trish let her head fall back and her eyes close.

There were other people on the transport, of course, but the seats hid most movements, and the people across the aisle from her and Jordan were asleep.

They were more hidden than they usually were when he played with Trish.

Slowly, he relaxed as he touched her. Well, not all of him—his cock had hardened while the rest of his muscles had unwound.

“My father was unimportant to me,” he murmured, his voice so low she could barely hear him, though his lips were right next to her ear.

As if in payment for dispensing this information, his hand reached up to squeeze her breast, his fingers gliding over the fabric of her dress and seeking out her nipple, which stiffened at his touch.

Trish didn’t protest; she let him play with her body …

and answer her question. “He was never part of my life.”

Now both his hands caressed her breasts, his face still buried in her neck as if he used her body to distract from any emotions that might bubble up.

It distracted Trish, as well, and she wanted to moan as his kneading and pinching of her soft flesh made her squirm on his lap, the bulge of his cock throbbing beneath her.

“The one time he could have made a real difference, he did not. He cared for no one but himself.” Jordan’s voice was devoid of emotion, but his hands were rough on her breasts.

Trish bit back a moan as he squeezed, hard, trapping her nipples between his fingers and pinching tightly.

The fabric of her dress was soft, but now it abraded the tender buds as Jordan moved his fingers back and forth, making the fabric move as well.

He moved, turning, and settled her back onto her seat with his body half covering hers, his broad back keeping anyone from seeing what he did to her until they were directly above him and Trish.

The look in his blue eyes was fierce, the lines of his face unyielding.

Her breasts throbbed even though his hands had moved to where one arm curved around her back, supporting her, as the other thrust up her skirt.

“I will take care of you,” he whispered, his mouth covering hers as his fingers pressed into her wet pussy.

He swallowed her cry as Trish reached for him, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he swirled his fingers, pumping them in and out.

She shuddered, her pussy squeezing his fingers.

Did anyone realize? Was anyone watching, trying to see more?

Trish should have protested, but instead kissed him back as his fingers moved wickedly, confidently, his thumb circling and pressing against her clit while she writhed for him.

He finger-fucked her straight into an intense orgasm and then kept pumping her quivering pussy until she was limp from satiated bliss.

Only then did he remove his fingers from her folds and suck them into his mouth, cleaning them of her cream, a satisfied smile on his face despite the huge bulge still pressing against the front of his pants.

Ten minutes later, they arrived in Rio.

Trish’s face when he first showed her into their new place soothed all Jordan’s worries. She liked it.

He looked around. The house was not huge but it was large enough, with several bedrooms, a big, open kitchen and living area that was already furnished, and a pool in the backyard.

He and Trish were several doors down from where Marek and Laura had settled into their new home, which he’d be able to surprise Trish with, later.

“This is beautiful.” Trish craned her neck to look around, stepping forward with her hands out as though she might try to fill the space with her slim arms and fingers.

The thin dress she wore was practically translucent with the strong light coming in through the windows, her legs visible through the skirt.

It had not escaped Jordan’s notice that Trish had become more relaxed with him since she’d been allowed to choose whether she stayed went back to her old life. More relaxed, more open with her observations, more willing to speak, even if they weren’t conversing. The Wolf had been right.

Choosing made a difference.

There was the backyard to show her, and all the amenities, but Jordan’s cock was still rock-hard from their moment in the transport.

While Trish had been reluctant to let him fondle her there, she’d came hard on his fingers.

He’d decided to wait until they were at the house to find his own satisfaction, in large part because of a room he wished to share with her.

“Come.” He took one of her outstretched hands and headed for the stairs.

There was the slightest tug of resistance before she let herself be pulled along.

Jordan glanced back at her, a little smile tugging his lips at the wistful expression on her face.

Trish wanted to explore the downstairs. “You can look around soon, but there’s something I want to show you. ”

Intrigued, she caught up and let him lead her up the stairs, past the other bedrooms and bathrooms, to the door at the end of the hall. Trish didn’t yet know their bedroom had been the first one the right. This room, however, was a special room.

Jordan opened the door and quickly pulled her inside, stepping back slightly so he could see the expression on her face.

Her lips popped open in surprise as she looked around in delight and took in the room before a small frown began to furrow her brow.

It hadn’t been unexpected. She fought her desires constantly.

It was Jordan’s pleasure to strip back her defenses and indulge her hidden needs, no matter how she tried to hide them.

Trish was perfect for him; she just didn’t always accept it.

The first emotion Trish had felt upon looking at the room Jordan had been so excited to show her had been unadulterated joy.

The kind of joy a small child would take in getting everything they’d ever wanted.

Her brain quickly caught up, however, and reminded her she wasn’t a small child—even if this room looked like something out of her childhood fantasies.

The walls were painted lavender with white trim, giving the room a serene feeling.

The curtains on the windows were white but covered with lavender and cornflower-blue flowers, as was the bedspread.

The bed was large but managed to look like a child’s bed with its white rails and simple lines.

One wall was lined with bookshelves that were already filled.

There was a frilly window seat, more than large enough to accommodate both her and Jordan, with cushions propped up all around it.

Near another window was a table that, again, looked like the simple furniture that might have been found in a child’s room, but was Trish’s size.

There were also a few things that made Trish uncertain … like a large rocking horse, what looked like a speaking lectern, except the shelf seemed to be made of leather, and a swing hanging in center of the room.

What was she supposed to think, except …

“Is this a child’s room?” Even as Trish asked the question, she knew the answer. Some small part of her jumped with joy at the beauty and warmth of the room, while another part of her was incensed at this further proof of Jordan’s main interest in her complete dependence on him.

“No, this is a room for us.” He pulled her toward him, a knowing smirk on his face.

Trish pushed at his chest, trying to wriggle away, but he grabbed her long hair in one hand and tipped her head back with it to take her mouth in a searing kiss.

Protesting noises rose from her, and Trish considered biting his tongue …

but she didn’t want to find out what he would do if she did.

Even so, she struggled against him, even more infuriated as it became clear how useless her struggles were.

She wrenched her mouth away from his. “I’m not a child!”

She squealed as he picked her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist for support. The bulge of his cock pressed against the splayed lips of her pussy, and Trish moaned. His hands moved down to her ass and squeezed the soft mounds.

“I’d say it’s very clear I’m aware of that.” Jordan’s voice was husky, his eyes alight with need. “But you are my little girl, my babygirl, and sometimes we’re going to have fun with that. Right here in this room.”

His fingers slid between her butt cheeks, seeking out the base of her plug, and she shifted, shuddering at the sensation of it pressing deeper inside her.

She slapped her palm against his shoulder.

While she’d become accustomed to being treated like a doll, dressed, bathed, and often pampered by Jordan, this went a little too far! She didn’t want to act like a little girl or have a little girl’s room. He could brush her hair and pick out her clothing in a normal room—an adult room.

Trish ignored the room’s tug at some part of her heart, some wayward wisp of a dream leftover from her childhood. She’d grown up past that.

And she definitely wasn’t curious about what the swing or the rocking horse or the lectern were for.

“No!”

“Yes,” Jordan said, amused as he began to walk further into the room, holding Trish in front of him as if she were a little girl, in truth.

She wanted to scream with frustration and almost wished she were a little girl because then she could go ahead and throw the tantrum she was desperately trying to hold back.

It was odd, when Trish looked at the whole of their relationship, that she no longer feared him. He might spank her, might punish her, might torment her sexually, but she never feared anymore that Jordan might truly harm her.