Page 30 of Fixation

HARPER

S creaming. Kicking my feet. Biting the inside of his palm.

He won’t budge, won’t even pause as he’s dragging me to the alley by my house. Deeper into the darkness.

Nothing stops Anderson. He’s kidnapping me again.

This is my fault. I could’ve run faster. I could’ve locked myself inside before he parked his car.

I called for the monster, and he answered.

“Let me go.” My muffled scream gets me nowhere.

“Kitten.” His lips are close to my ear. It’s not his mouth I feel. Fabric brushes against my skin. The same soft fabric that grazes my cheek. I twist my head to see him wearing a mask up to his eyes. “Be quiet. I’m trying to save your fucking life.”

I hear him, but I don't understand it.

Until I do, when he pulls me into the shadows, to the alley behind my home. I get what he’s saying now.

Terror shakes me to my core.

His debt.

He’s more dangerous than he’s let on. And I’m caught between him and the other predator.

I’m trapped. Terrified.

And he’s fucking feral. The way he looks at me.

Bam and I’m being pushed up against the wall.

The gaiter and hoodie transform him into a different person that I don’t recognize.

I’m shaking. Backing up farther into the wall.

There’s no place to run, though.

Nowhere.

I can’t run from myself, either. From the blood heating my veins. The wetness between my thighs.

“I’m going to remove my hand.” He leans into me, sensing my fear. “You’re going to be quiet for me.”

His cock presses hard against my stomach through his jeans. He’s getting off on this.

Tears sting my eyes. Shame fills me from head to toe from being as turned on as he seems to be.

“Nod once if you agree.”

I do, and it’s his fault.

He did this.

He planted these feelings in me.

This need.

This ache that makes me wet for something I should run from.

Growling, I stomp on his foot as hard as I can. The other one.

“Harper.” He tilts his head and grinds his hips into me, letting me feel every hard inch of him.

Instead of hurting him again, I collapse against the wall. I grab his wrist like it’s the only solid thing left.

That’s all the assurance he needs to remove his hand.

“Wait for me here.” The way he stares at me, I don’t think I can tell him no. I don’t know if I want to. “I have to try to fix this. Give me five minutes. Can you do that for me?”

“I’m scared.” Of him. Of them . Of everything, it feels like.

“Don’t be.” Two words and I’m much calmer. I hate that he has this effect on me. I love it just as much. “Five minutes, okay? And I’ll be back.”

As soon as I say, “yes” he disappears. I’m barely able to catch my breath before he’s here again. Clamping a hand over my mouth though I’ve been quiet.

He’s getting off on it. On controlling me.

“Look at you.” His eyebrow quirks. “So obedient for me.”

“Go to hell,” I growl into his hand, mad at myself for staying. For wanting him. “Go to hell,” I repeat, even though I doubt he understands.

“Look at you.” His eyebrow quirks. He’s getting off on this. “So obedient for me.”

“Go to hell,” I hiss into his hand. I doubt he understands.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” Oh, he does understand. Nothing escapes him. Including me. “But I’m willing to put that behind us. Now, promise me you’ll be quiet.”

I bite the inside of his palm again. Grab his wrist harder, cursing him inwardly for being a horrible temptation.

When he growls, my insides melt. He humps me, slow and leisurely, into the brick wall. I’m being dry-fucked out here in the street. Forced to take it.

Forced to like it.

I do.“That’s it.” An orgasm I refuse to give in to builds anyway, low and hot. Anderson sees it too, his eyes narrowing. “Going to fuck the resistance out of you.”

My shorts are down to my knees. He pushes two fingers under my panties, into me, like my body’s his to play with however he wants.

“You’re soaked.” Every stroke drags me higher. So fast. Too fast. What’s he doing to me? “Is that for me?”

My nostrils flare, my body yielding.

He isn’t making me like it, like he did before. I want him.

“You’re insane,” I murmur.

Then a tear slips, sliding down his hand. Because I’m just as insane. Just as needy.

His gaze tells me that he hears me. That he sees even deeper into my soul. That my desperation is what makes him groan.

The sound is so feral that I’m gasping. My pussy clenches around him.

“You know…” His mouth presses to the spot below one of my eyes.

I moan at the feel of his tongue pushing against the mask. Of the shape of his lips on my skin, sucking my tears through the fabric.

Then his mouth is gone and indignant growl slips past my lips.

“Quiet. There’s someone out here, watching over my house.” Anderson stares me down, rubbing up against me. “He might kill you if he saw us together. If he realized how much you mean to me.”

Who the hell are we hiding from? I have to ask. He has to tell me; he can’t keep me in the dark anymore.

With the last ounce of strength in me, between moaning and gasping for air, I pull his hand down from my mouth. Less than an inch.

I’m still gasping, still moaning. “The debt?”

“Harper. Kitten.” Fuck. Fuck . He reaches this spot inside my pussy, grazing it, and my toes curl. My mind goes numb. “You cared enough to remember.”

“I remember everything.” I don’t glower like I should. Beneath his deft fingers and heated glare, I turn to putty. “Everything I’ll need to use against you.”

He huffs a low laugh, and it’s cold. Cruel. Wonderful.

And dirty. I’m dirty too, for riding his hand, for being so close to coming.

His thumb finds my clit and presses. Rubs. Forcing a painful kind of pleasure on me.

The kind that sends me over the edge.

The moment I cry out, he’s there. His eyes are mad, and he slams a hand over my mouth.

The best orgasm of my life strikes me like a whip. I shatter for him, coming against my will.

He does that while silencing my moans. My screams. Sneaking a glance to the side, his entire body on alert.

He wasn’t bluffing. Someone’s out here.

I don’t care.

Every nerve in my body has centered into my pussy, my clit, and Anderson is lighting them up. Turning me against myself over and over.

“Good girl.” He rips my panties in one tug and pockets them. Strokes me where I’m swollen and wet. Anderson cuts his intimidating gaze to my pussy, then back to my face. “Look at your cunt. Such a whore for me. Fuck. You drench my hand like such a dirty slut.”

My painful orgasm is prolonged by this sadist who makes me take it.

It’s too much. I feel everything.

And I have to take it. I’m left with no other choice.

The sound of his zipper cuts through the silence of the night. He pushes my shorts lower down my legs, toeing them down and past my sneakers.

This thing between us is wrong. No amount of lust can make it right. Nothing can fix us, not even his care. How gorgeous he is.

I. Can’t. Want. My. Kidnapper.

“You’ve had your fun, Harper. Hiding from me.

Pretending you don’t ache for my attention.

For my cock.” The mask is off, down to his neck.

It isn’t right, either, isn’t right at all that my pussy clenches for him.

“That’s over now. You’re done hiding this sweet little cunt from me.

I’m here to take what’s always been mine. ”

There’s no denying the sigh of relief that crashes through me. He came back. Despite my fears and misgivings, I want him. I’ve been waiting for him to take me again.

My unhinged obsession never really left.

“And in case you were wondering. This isn’t a request.” His eyes deliver a warning before he says, “Be quiet.”

He releases his grip on my mouth, and I obey him. I don’t breathe a sound. My lips are bound shut by Anderson’s heat.

I trust him.

His clothes rustle as he moves closer. I spread my legs wider, wanting him. Preparing myself for what’ll come next. Opening up for him is as involuntary as breathing.

Like taking his cock in one swift shove.

“That sweet fucking pussy.” He’s huge, stretching me. Every brutal inch of him. “Harper. Fuck. You stretch so pretty for me.”

His eyes lock on mine.

A shiver runs up my spine. I’m helpless. Against him . Against my heart .

“I missed you.” His hand, wet with my arousal, handles my legs, wrapping them around his middle. “You felt it too, didn’t you? You ached for me just as much. I fucking know it.”

These words should sound affectionate. Loving. Tender.

Nothing about Anderson is ever soft. None of those qualities is a part of who he is.

This man isn’t a lover whispering sweet nothings to me. He isn’t asking me to want him back.

He demands it. He growls the words at me.

Say it or there’ll be consequences.

Hating him should be my only emotion. Fighting him should be my only response.

Impossible.

I want him. Not just another orgasm or a rough fuck.

I want the man who took care of me.

I want the man who stole me in broad daylight and locked me up in his basement.

“Fuck you.” My hands go to his shoulders. Nowhere else they’d rather be.

“I will.” His ass is tight against the heels of my feet. His forehead presses to mine.

His muscles ripple the longer he holds me. Cursing, he protects the back of my head with his large hand.

Time stills as he throbs inside me.

Anguish bleeds through his eyes. Relentlessness flashes in them.

I know before he starts working his hips that it’s going to hurt.

“Please.”

“You”— thrust —“missed”— thrust and fuck, the wall bruises my ass, the pain sending another surge of heat between my legs—“me.”

“No.” All day and all night, you bastard.

“You did. I missed you too. That’s why”— hushed moan —“I’m being reckless.”

His cock impales me, dragging over my G-spot. Making me see stars.

“He could find us. He could see how”—a groan so gruff and intoxicating ripples from him that I come again, silenced by his mouth on my lips first, and then—“much you mean to me. Can’t help it. Want you. want you so fucking bad. Jesus, Harper. Fuck.”