Page 7 of Claimed (The Captain’s Captive #2)

“This is for your own good, babygirl,” he said, looking stern although his tone was amused. “I don’t want to have to punish you again so soon after your last one, but you can’t keep calling me names. Even if, technically, I really am a bastard.”

His voice dropped on the last sentence, eyes darkening for a a moment, as if remembering something unpleasant, and Trish stilled at this momentary glimpse of emotion. Then it was gone, and he looked down at her again, his gaze sliding up and down her body, assessing … and then making a decision.

Cloth ripped as he easily tore the dress from her body rather than lifting her skirt, giving him access to all of her.

Her breasts heaved as she panted around the gag, her nipples pointing straight up at the ceiling.

In this position, with her legs spread and bound, there was no way to hide the creamy gloss of her pussy or her budded nipples, no way to pretend her body wasn’t aroused, no matter how frustrated and pissed off she was.

His comment about not wanting to punish her kept her still, though, as her snap of temper wasn’t because she’d finally reached the end of her rope.

No … it was because Trish trusted him to not harm her.

Really trusted him. Not just surface-level—she subconsciously trusted him enough to lose control, to scream at him, to call him a bastard, and had even pushed him, despite knowing it would do nothing, because she knew, deep down, he wouldn’t kill her, he wouldn’t mutilate her, he wouldn’t do anything to Trish she couldn’t recover from.

While Jordan might spank her, whip her, torment her sexually, and use her body like a sex toy, she trusted he wouldn’t go beyond that.

Which was both sick and a relief. She trusted she’d be treated like a cherished toy, his ‘babygirl,’ and that was a good thing—a far cry from how she’d been initially: too frightened to do anything that might anger him, too terrified to do anything but cry.

Like Bella, Trish been too wary to rebel, too afraid that anything other than compliance might mean death or torture … and she certainly hadn’t wanted to end up like Alex. Even now, Trish didn’t want to end up like Bella—who knew what she was going through at the hands of Dr. Margolis?

But Trish wasn’t in the doctor’s hands.

She was in Jordan’s.

And he wouldn’t hurt her.

Not really.

Other than the fact that his very protectiveness, his caretaking, had messed with her mind to the point where she was comfortable with him—counting on him. Trish had almost wanted him to do something horrible to her when she’d lashed out because then she could have easily started hating him.

Instead, Jordan lavished kisses over her breasts, his hands cupping the pert mounds and kneading her soft flesh, his amusement lashing at her frustration— with both him and herself.

Trish didn’t think for one second Jordan hadn’t enjoyed punishing her.

He’d liked showing off to the soldiers and Bella.

He’d liked watching Bella pleasure Trish.

And he’d definitely liked spanking the heck out of her and then reaming her ass.

It was wrong, and yet it bothered her less than it should.

She’d felt guilty about telling Bella; had felt as though she’d deserved to be punished.

And now, even though Trish was pissed she’d been set up, she wasn’t as angry as she should have been.

She wanted to be mad that Jordan had tied her down, but mostly she was mad he hadn’t given her a reason to be mad.

If he’d decided to punish her again, to harshly add more abuse to her already-sore butt cheeks, she might have been able to sustain her own rage.

Instead, her skin tingled with goosebumps as her pussy convulsed in response to his experienced hands and mouth, and her anger drained away into her steadily rising lust.

She should be disgusted with herself.

But there was nothing Trish could do. She was tied up. He wouldn’t hurt her. In fact, she knew he would make her feel really, really good. So why make herself feel bad for what was about to happen when it wasn’t something she could control, anyway?

Trish moaned behind the gag as Jordan sucked her nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth over the taught bud and sending a shiver down her spine. His focused attention on her breasts made her pussy feel even needier, neglected and wanting.

Suckling hard, he pulled more and more of her breast into his mouth, his tongue lashing against the tender nub that topped the mound of flesh, and Trish writhed with the painful pleasure.

Jordan switched his attentions back and forth between the two nubs with his mouth, and his fingers and hand tended to whichever nipple he wasn’t sucking.

Trish’s body throbbed with need as her arousal grew and grew, but her pussy remained aching and needy.

When he pulled away, leaving her breasts feeling heavy and swollen, her nipples tingling from his attentions, to pick up some clamps, Trish was gasping for breath.

She screamed into her gag as he clamped her nipples, the throbbing buds already super-sensitive; they felt as though they were larger than ever, and being clamped was more painful than ever.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as the clamps constricted her blood-flow to the two buds, pinching them so tightly, so relentlessly, her pussy fluttered like she was about to orgasm from the agonizingly pleasurable pressure alone.

His mouth moved lower, hands gliding over her sides, lips marking a heated trail down her stomach, making her muscles quiver as he moved slowly, inexorably, toward her pussy.

By the time his tongue traced patterns on her mound, Trish felt like she was about to melt from her need to come.

The tight grip of the clamps on her nipples left her blood pulsing through her chest, her legs pulled restlessly at the cuffs around her ankles, and when he finally settled between her legs, thumbs spreading her netherlips to reveal pink flesh, glistening with her arousal, Trish screamed into the gag with her need.

The stroke of his tongue up her center had her nearly sobbing as her clit throbbed. She was so close to orgasm the lightest touch would send her over … and, instead, he turned his head to kiss the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Trish thrashed.

Her need felt too big for her body, as though she would explode from the inside out if she didn’t orgasm.

Jordan kissed her opposite inner thigh.

She screamed into the gag, free to do so without shame because it wasn’t as though she were actually begging.

Then his mouth closed over her clit, his tongue flicking against the tender bud, and Trish screamed again as a supernova exploded inside her body. White, hot light flashed behind her eyelids as ecstasy ripped through her, her body practically levitating off the bed with the force of her climax.

Two fingers shoved into her, pumped, and Trish shuddered again, tears leaking down the sides of her face from her closed eyes as another wave of pleasure surged and crested.

Her nipples throbbed and tried to swell against the tight grip of the clamps, and Trish squirmed as she tried to move away from Jordan’s thrusting fingers, from his sucking mouth, as the sensations became too intense to be purely pleasurable.

It was exquisite torment as he forced her orgasm to roll on and on, her muscles spasming around his fingers, her body at his mercy.

He sucked and rolled her clit between his teeth, sending her into paroxysms that left her weak and shaking as her sexual rapture rose and fell at his touch.

When he released her from his mouth, Trish was swollen and aching, every inch of her pussy sensitive to the touch.

And he wasn’t done with her yet.

Limp against her restraints, Trish could barely moan as he released her nipples from the clamps.

They were dark red and angry-looking against her pale skin, and she whimpered as he suckled them, soothing the sparks of pain that flared upon release.

Even so, the blood rushing back into the crushed buds didn’t register as much as it normally would have when she was already so wracked with sensation.

Trish floated on a hazy cloud, the clamps’ removal mere pinpricks against a backdrop of bliss and tingling muzziness.

Jordan’s cock brought her back to reality, pushing between her swollen lips, stretching her open and thrusting into her slick channel, making her cry out as all that overstimulated tissue was stroked.

Even though she was tied down to the bed, his forearms rested on either side of her stretched-out limbs, his hands pressing down on her wrists as an extra measure to keep her in place beneath him, to keep her from escaping.

She cried out into the gag at his rough, heavy thrusts, the weight of his body bearing down on hers, the hair on his chest rasping over her abraded nipples.

Every thrust split her open, his body rocking against her tender pussy and clit, making her scream with agonized ecstasy as he plowed into her.

He fucked her hard and fast, taking his pleasure as hers rolled through her in an unending tide that had her sobbing for breath as her body was wracked with the explosive pleasure of multiple orgasms. The hard length of his cock slid easily in and out of her wet sheath, his breath growling low in his throat as he thrust deep.

His mouth came down on the tender area between her neck and shoulder, and his teeth latched on, his mouth sucking hard as his cock began to swell inside her.

Every pulse of his cock throbbed against her muscles as he came, his breath hot on her throat, his hands like manacles around her wrists.

His cock was harder, thicker than ever, and, as he ground himself against her pussy, rubbing his groin over her swollen clit, Trish’s eyes rolled up and she blacked out from the force of her orgasm.

When Trish came to, she was warm and floaty.

It took her a few moments to realize she was relaxing in the large tub, cradled on Jordan’s lap.

Steam heated the air around them, and Jordan’s hands gently rubbed a soapy washcloth over her body.

She whimpered a little as the rough cloth moved over her breasts and nipples, which stood at attention under the stimulation but were still sore from the clamps. Beneath her bottom, his cock hardened.

“Just relax, babygirl,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t relax, not right away, but, as he continued to wash her with gentle motions that didn’t veer into the sexual, even when he gently rubbed her pussy lips before moving down her legs, she slowly did.

Trish leaned her head against his shoulder and let out a small sigh as he turned her sideways on his lap so he could lift her legs out of the water, one by one, and wash their entire length.

“This is nice,” she said, without thinking, and then clamped her mouth shut, her entire body stiffening. Trish hated herself for the unthinking admission.

Jordan didn’t respond verbally, but his lips pressed against the top of her head before he began to work the washcloth between each of her toes.