He thrusts his hips slowly, dragging his cock in and out with expert precision, finding that spot every time. My release is building and, oh, it feels so good. I grip his shoulders and slide my nails across his skin, tearing into the tanned, beautiful flesh. He thrusts harder now, and I can hear our skin slapping together as we both race toward release. He’s groaning and he looks so erotic with his head tipped back, his jaw tight, the look in his eyes feral and untamed.
I can’t hold back.
“Jagger!” I bellow his name as the best orgasm of my life consumes my body.
I arch my back and he reaches down, taking my hips into his hands and thrusting into me so hard I only scream louder. He leans down and bites one of my nipples, causing me to shudder and spasm around him once more. His fingers bite into my skin as he thrusts with desperation, searching for his own release. When he finds it, he groans, and I can feel him pulsing hot and deep inside me. His chest is straining, his biceps bulging. All I can think about is how utterly beautiful he looks right now.
When we come down from our high, he lets me slide off his hips. I wobble a little, and he reaches out to steady me. When I dare to look at him, I get an eye full of pure, raw male. He is panting, and his beautiful chest is rising and falling heavily with each breath. His cheeks are beautifully flushed and his black hair is sticking to his forehead. Emotion passes between us, lots of it, and I wonder what he’s thinking right now? I can’t let the thoughts in, not yet. I’m not ready.
“Jagger!”
The loud booming voice outside of the room snaps us from our moment. Reality comes smashing back in, not staying away for long. Snake is dead. That other man is dead. We just had sex as if the world stopped. A crushing feeling grips my chest, and I look at the man in front of him, his face going from relaxed to tight in a matter of seconds.
“Fuck,” he snarls, getting out of the shower and drying his hair. He jerks his soaked jeans on, even though there is no point. I stare at the faint red stains in them and my heart begins pounding beneath my ribcage. I know whose blood is on Jagger’s jeans. He pulls them back on anyway, and takes the towel with him. He tosses me a towel and whispers at me to get behind the door.
He opens it and I hear him muttering, “She was tryin’ to kill herself, again. What’s up? Did you deal with the body?”
Kill myself? How dare he speak about me like that after what we just did? Who the hell does he think he is? Did he just use me as if I’m nothing more than a piece of meat? He must have because he was never going to admit what we just did, instead he thought it best to say I was trying to kill myself. Pain consumes my body and grips my heart, and I feel my emotions shutting down.
When he’s done, he turns and faces me. Without thought, I reach out and slap him. He takes two steps back, gripping his cheek, his eyes wide with shock.
“What the fuck?”
“Kill myself? Kill myself? That’s your god damned reason for being in here? Fuck you, Jagger!”
He growls and pushes me against the wall, big hands on my shoulders. “A lot happened today, I don’t need to be addin’ to it by telling them I just fucked the captive.”
Fucked. The. Captive.
“Go. To. Hell,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Willow, you’re overreacting and you need to stop. You hear me, stop.”
“You just had sex with me, and I thought ... I thought ...”
“You thought what?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face as if I’m some pitiful, broken, pathetic human. “That it changed anything?”
His words feel like a slap to the face. I can’t even form words, my soul is crushed.
He releases me. “It can’t happen again. You know that. It was a moment of weakness.”
“So it was nothing? Just a moment where you thought, hell, I might just fuck the poor girl I’ve taken from her life for fun?”
“Willow ...”
“Nothing, Jagger. I got it. Now get the fuck out.”
He steps back and gives me a long stare before turning and slamming the door so loudly the window shakes.
WHEN JAGGER LEAVES, I go in search of alcohol.
I need something to shut my mind down, to turn off the thoughts consuming me. The fact that he just had sex with me—the most mind-blowing of my life—and then told me it meant nothing feels like a knife to the chest. It’s not because I thought we were anything more than what we are, but because of the fact that I honestly expected my captor to give a shit about me. I’ve truly lost my mind, in a way that I can’t come back from if I don’t do something soon.