Page 23 of Stealing His Cupcake (Stockholm Syndrome for the Win #2)

Wyatt

I’ve never regretted anything more than not killing Craig Denver with my own hands.

I’m so furious I’m tempted to go back to Kansas City, steal his corpse from the morgue and desecrate it, just to let some of this anger out.

He was with Amy only for a year, yet he managed to completely poison her mind.

I know this primitive display of anger isn’t helping anything, but I can’t help myself.

How could she think I’d be disappointed with having sex with her?

It’s literally the only thing that’s been on my mind for days!

I’d die to be inside her, to sink into her hot, wet pussy, to taste or just touch her and nothing could make that experience disappointing.

I’d hoped her attraction meant I’d get at least a part of my wish fulfilled tonight.

Of course, I expected some token resistance on her side.

Good girls don’t just give it up to criminals.

I expected some fear, something I’d easily distract her from with pleasure.

What I didn’t expect, however, was full-blown terror.

I could have still taken her and maybe even made her come, but it would have been rape.

I might be a monster in many aspects, but I don’t rape people, especially not my precious Amy .

She’s scared again, and this time I’ve got no one else to blame but myself.

I really suck at this seducing a captive thing, but then, if it were easy, people would be kidnapping each other all the time.

Forcing myself to calm down, I relax my hold on her throat, my thumb stroking the sensitive flesh.

Amy isn’t fighting. She’s stiff and motionless beneath me, eyes squeezed shut—frozen with fear or zoning out like before.

Once I’m certain my voice will come out normally and not like an angry snarl, I whisper her name.

“Amy. Look at me, baby.” A tiny whimper follows the endearment.

She clearly doesn’t like that one. Did the bastard call her that?

I need to remember to never use it again.

“Amy, sweetheart. Cupcake.” That gets a better response. “Look at me, please.”

Her eyes flutter open, pupils so wide they almost swallow the warm brown of her irises.

“There’s a good girl,” I praise, filing the slight catch of her breath for later.

“I am not angry with you, Amy. I’m angry with the people who made you doubt your own beauty.

Your value. Because you are beautiful and you are valuable and I would be honored and fucking elated to eat your cunt. ”

Her eyes widen further and, to my surprise, her body relaxes a little.

Seems my girl likes praise and dirty talk.

Perfect. “I would spread your thighs and dive between them, burying my tongue deep inside your tight pussy. I would taste you and lick you and devour you until you would writhe and scream under me, begging me for more.” The fervent words flow from me like a prayer and, based on Amy’s sharp inhales and a slightly parted mouth, she’s soaking them up.

“I would worship your body the way you deserve and cherish everything you would deem to give me.”

A garbled sound escapes her, like she’s trying to speak but can’t form the words.

My cock is so hard that a single thrust would make me explode, and I have to stop myself from grinding against Amy’s stomach.

“Would you like that, cupcake?” Moving my hand from her throat to her cheek, I’m pleased to see she doesn’t flinch.

I run my thumb over her plump lower lip and her lips part further. So soft, so inviting .

So many times today I’ve wanted to kiss her, but it never seemed right. We should share our first kiss when she’s breathless from pleasure, not from panic. When she’s trembling from ecstasy, not fear.

Still silent, Amy watches me, her chest heaving.

Craving to feel her flushed skin against mine, I curse the scrap of fabric between us, but I don’t want to push her too far.

Her throat bobs, drawing my attention. Experimentally, I move my hand back there and squeeze a little, praying I’m not reading her cues incorrectly.

Her sharp intake of breath is a confirmation on its own, and the desire brimming in her eyes speaks volumes. “You like this.”

“N-no,” she whispers breathlessly, but it’s not the panicked, desperate “no” from earlier. This is an entirely different kind of “no”, one that opens possibilities. I will need to tread carefully while exploring them, but I bet every step will be filled with pleasure.

“No?” I nip at her ear, then soothe the spot with a kiss. “Don’t lie to me, cupcake. I bet that if I dove between your legs right now, I’d find you wet and oh-so-ready to be ravished.”

Another “no”. This one is almost a moan. Her nipples are hard, rubbing against me as her chest heaves.

“Is that what you want, Amy? Do you want me to take the choice away? Do you want me to act like the big, bad kidnapper and simply take you? To ignore all those unconvincing ‘no’s, to use your body however I want whenever I want? To ravish you like a pirate would ravish a little lady he captured? Because I will.” Not wanting to break her out of the moment, I don’t dare squeeze her neck harder, but I do trail kisses over the edge of her jaw and my hips jerk, my cock sliding over her stomach.

No doubt, the front of her nightgown is soaked with pre-cum by now.

“I will do that, and so much more,” I continue my verbal assault at her crumbling defenses, a little breathless myself.

“I will keep you forever, and every day, I will worship at the shrine that is your body, paying obeisance to your sweet cunt. Do you want that? Do you crave it as much as I do?”

“N-no. ”

“No? And yet…” Her heartbeat hammers beneath my thumb, her pupils dark vortexes threatening to swallow me whole. “Let yourself live, Amy. Let yourself enjoy this. Say yes.”

“I…” The haze from her eyes dissipates and now she watches me intently, as if trying to read my mind.

I will her to do the right thing, but she needs to know her options.

“If you say no, we’ll go to sleep.” God knows I should.

I haven’t slept in days, and it’s still over four hundred miles to my house.

Plus we have an important stop to make on the way.

But we’d both rest much better after an orgasm.

“But I would very much prefer it if you said yes because I’m hungry, and not for food. ”

Our hot, quick breaths mix in the small space between us as Amy considers her answer. She’s quiet for so long I’m convinced she’s going to say no, but then she nods.