Page 31 of Claimed (The Captain’s Captive #2)

Her life still didn’t feel real, though it didn’t seem nightmarish anymore, either.

How had she gotten here? Why had she chosen as she had?

Had it been the right choice? Especially in moments like this, when he was determined to remind Trish how little control she had over her life, even if she’d chosen this path.

“I think you’ll like this room more than you know.” He lifted Trish up and over his shoulder and gave her a little swat on her bottom in return for the slap she’d landed on his chest. He started moving across the room, toward who-knew-what.

Trish twisted around, trying to hang onto his side and peer around him to see where he headed.

“I don’t want to be treated like a child!

” Even if it meant a room spun from her wildest fantasies as a little girl, with all the frills and beauty a mind could conjure.

He came to a stop, and Trish twisted some more.

They stood in front of the rocking horse.

“You can’t just put me in a child’s room and expect me to use it! ”

“Of course not,” he said amiably. Too amiably. Jordan wasn’t amiable. He also sounded distracted and did something with the hand that wasn’t holding her in place on his shoulder. “We’ll both be using it.”

Trish gritted her teeth and squirmed. Should she try to hit him or beat on his back?

It would be useless. His body had the fine-tuned, hardened musculature of a soldier, and she had never had any real physical prowess.

There were women who could have gotten out of this hold—Trish had seen them in the Wolf’s compound—she just wasn’t one of them.

Trish scowled and tried not to pout like the child she tried to prove she wasn’t.

One of the things she disliked the most about being from the Moon was that, though Trish had been orphaned, lonely, and looked down on, compared to the women from Earth, she’d been pampered.

The women and men on Earth had endured hardships Trish could hardly fathom.

She’d only gotten a small taste of it when Jordan had kidnapped her, and, even then, he’d quickly become protective and solicitous.

Trish had never had a chance to become a soldier.

She was helpless compared to Jordan.

That her helplessness also aroused her was frustrating.

“Why can’t we just keep doing what we have been?” she asked plaintively, sounding whinier than she wanted.

Jordan chuckled, his free hand coming up to slide up the back of her thigh and tug at the plug in her ass.

She let out a little squeal as he pulled, and the plug came free.

Trish knew him well enough to know the relief of an empty bottom was not to last for long.

In this mood, if he was removing her plug, it was likely she was about to have that hole filled with something else.

Instead of answering, he made a movement, and it sounded like he’d tossed the plug away, into a bin next to the bookshelves where it could be picked up later. Jordan let her drop down in front of him, one hand pulling her dress up, even as her feet touched the floor.

Standing naked in front of him reminded Trish of how small, how delicate she was compared to Jordan.

She fit into the frilly, girlish room; Jordan did not.

He stood out, dominating the entire space, too big and too masculine for the surroundings.

He dropped her dress to the ground without looking at it as he turned Trish around, sideways to him, and began to pick her up again.

She gasped as she saw the rocking horse up close now. It was beautifully painted, like a rocking horse out of a toy catalog or a history book, but with one, very large difference. Actually, make that two very large differences.

Trish whimpered as Jordan easily lifted her into place, spreading her legs so they fell on each side of the horse, where the two huge dildos on the saddle pressed against her pussy and ass as he lowered her.

She clung to his neck, holding on as her body began to slide down the lubricated lengths, her inner muscles protesting being stretched simultaneously.

“Nooooo ….” she moaned. “I want to talk, not … not this!”

“We can talk later, babygirl.” His eyes glowed with appreciation as she sank further onto the dildos, burning with both discomfort and pleasure. “Right now, I want to watch you ride your new horsie.”

She wanted to bristle at the baby talk, but he pressed a button on the horse’s neck, and the dildos came to life inside her, vibrating and making her muscles seize at the rush of pleasure coursing through her.

“Oh!”

Trish threw back her head, and her back arched as she finally settled down into the saddle, her toes barely touching the floor, the twin dildos humming away inside her.

It felt like the saddle was vibrating too, stimulating her pussy lips and clit to send the most delicious sensations running through her.

Hands cupped her breasts, kneading them, squeezing them, and pinching her nipples. Trish cried out, squirming in the saddle, not wanting to admit how much she liked the toy she’d been protesting. With Jordan, she should have known it wouldn’t be a fair fight.

His dark chuckle in her ear, lips brushing along her neck, made her shudder.

“Good girl,” he said.

She tried not to whimper when he released her breasts, but was still a little indignant over the child’s room, no matter how adult the rocking horse had turned out to be.

It took Jordan less than a minute to secure her to the horse, with leather straps wrapping around her ankles and wrists, placing Trish in a slightly forward, sitting position.

When he picked up what had looked like decorative braids hanging from the horse’s mane, Trish realized they had clamps at the ends.

“Noooo, Jordan, please!” she begged, even as her nipples stiffened more in anticipation.

From the way he smiled, she could tell he planned to spend some time tormenting her.

He only used clamps when he took his time, and an orgasm already built low in Trish’s core.

If she had to ride the rocking horse, she didn’t want to be played with—she wanted to come!

And yet there was the part of her that thrilled at being bound and helpless, subject to his will. The part of her that was more turned on because Jordan would play with her even though she would beg him to let her hurry up and come.

She shrieked and squirmed as he placed the clamps on her nipples, ignoring her pleas. Trish was now attached to the horse by the restraints on her wrists and ankles, the clamps attached to the mane, and the dildos deep inside her.

Then Jordan set his foot on the front of the rocking horse and stepped down, sending her surging forward.

Not only did the horse rock, pulling at her nipples as her body moved in rhythm with the horse, but, as it rocked the dildos began to pump, receding halfway and then thrusting back in as Trish moaned and squirmed on top of the saddle.

The pulling pain in her nipples was countered by the thrilling pleasure of two cocks thrusting into her holes, the vibrating saddle buzzing against her clit.

Jordan had stepped back, his foot still on the front of the rocking horse, dictating its movements, one hand pressed against the front of his pants, rubbing gently while he watched her.

Trish met his eyes, felt her helplessness, her pussy and ass squeezing around the dildos, and she arched her back as her nipples were pulled yet again.

She’d thought Jordan would play with her longer before allowing her to come, but he kept rocking her on the horse as her ecstasy spiraled up and burst, making her cry out as she quivered and clenched atop the toy.

The machine kept fucking her, making her pull at her bonds and try to get away from the thrusting, the buzzing, just for a moment, just long enough to catch her breath, to let her sensitive flesh quiet.

She came hard, her orgasm pulsing along with the steady, rhythmic thrusts of the cocks inside her, and their unceasing, relentless filling and receding from her tender holes.

Trish shuddered and writhed while Jordan stood there and watched, his foot moving to keep her rocking. Her thighs pressed together against the warm wood of the horse, trying to lift her body and relieve the pressure and hot buzzing on her clit.

She looked up and met his icy-blue eyes, which were currently not icy at all—they were hot and hungry as he watched her.

“How long am I going to ride this?” she asked desperately. While it was strange, being watched, it also turned her on. The rocking horse itself had been made for female pleasure, but how much could she take? Jordan had proven to Trish that too much pleasure could be as much a punishment as pain.

Her thighs weakened, sweat and her pussy juices making them slick, making it difficult for Trish to maintain her grip, and she slid back into the saddle as he smiled at her.

“Tell me you like the room,” he said.

Trish’s jaw clenched.

Sometimes she became stubborn about what seemed like the most ridiculous things. Some part of Trish yelled at her to just say the words, but another part of her didn’t want to give in.

He knew she liked the room, even before he’d put her on the horse.

But Trish didn’t want to like the room. Didn’t want to think she liked being treated as a child.

Didn’t like having it shoved in her face that she enjoyed being his ‘little girl’ in reality and not just in name.

Didn’t like having to acknowledge what he did when he dressed her, brushed her hair, and fed her from his fingers.

Jordan liked to take care of every last one of her needs.

He liked her totally dependent on him. And Trish had liked surrendering and letting him take care of her like a child, but she balked at admitting that’s what had happened.

She knew what she was doing, why she was balking, yet she couldn’t give him the words.

Not until he made her.

Was this a product of having been kidnapped? Used for his pleasure? Slowly turned into the kind of prisoner who chose to stay in her cage? Or had Trish always been like this, deep down, and the situation and Jordan had tapped into a part of her she might have never realized?

That was something she didn’t know.

All Trish knew was her pleasure rose again, and her mind started to lose track of her thoughts as her arousal and excitement built.

Shed give in eventually. She’d say the words—and they would be the truth—but not yet.

At least one more orgasm. Her nipples would burn, her ass stretch, her pussy spasm, and Trish would beg at least once more before she could bring herself to say the words.

It was a game, and one she would lose, but she played anyway.

Her body bowed, her thighs trembling as Trish tried to hold off the next orgasm. She was already too sensitive, too stimulated, and another bout of pleasure would only make it worse—but fighting against the ecstasy would make it more intense when it finally washed over her. There was no way to win.

Jordan’s foot picked up the pace, making the dildos inside her move faster, and Trish screamed, writhing, hands clutching at the handles they were strapped to, tears leaking from her eyes as the intensity of her climax made her entire body spasm.

The sensations wouldn’t stop, her orgasmic shivers were nearly painful in their intensity, and whatever grip she’d been able to gain with her thighs was now gone.

“Please! Let me off! Pleaaaaaaaase!” She tried to twist her body, tried to rise, to no avail.

Damn him.

“I like the room!”

The rocking stopped. A moment later, the vibrations of the saddle ceased.

Trish moaned and slumped.

She didn’t cry out until he took the clamps off her nipples and blood began to surge back into the crushed buds, making them tingle painfully enough to slice through the hazy afterglow of her orgasms.

Then she cried out again when Jordan picked her up off the dildos, her holes aching and quivering.

He carried Trish over to the bed and laid her down to climb on top of her.

At some point, he’d gotten naked, but she was too pleasure-dazed to remember how or when.

His large body was even more out of place on the bed, which had looked large when she’d first seen it, but now seemed small, as if Jordan were too big for it.

His cock began to slide into her hot, slick hole, and Trish cried out as her swollen flesh was stimulated all over again.

The hairs on his chest, the hard muscles, rubbed against her aching nipples, and her arm and leg muscles were useless as he began to thrust into her, pounding her pussy as hard and rhythmically as the rocking horse had.

She couldn’t possibly respond again.

She wouldn’t want to.

But her body tingled, warmed, flared. His hot breath was on her neck, his lips moving over her skin, hands holding her so securely, but so gently …

Trish’s arms wound around his neck, her legs slowly lifting to his hips as her own hips canted up to meet his thrusts. Her eyes were closed, her moans soft, and yet those small responses made Jordan lose control.

He shouted her name, his voice hoarse, and thrust hard. Wet heat spilled into her, making her throb.

The weight of his body pressed Trish down securely into the bed, and small kisses dropped on her head and shoulders. Caresses, ensuring she was okay.

Even as Trish dropped into sleep, she couldn’t help but wonder what other wonderful, terrible things Jordan might do to her in this room.

The Wolf’s compound seemed so far away right now, and her former life even farther.