Abduction (53 page)

"So, what do you think, Vaughn? Does the idea of two men fucking turn Devan on?"

"Yes."

"Very much?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever been fucked by a man, Vaughn?"

Terror closed Devan's throat. She wished it would hurry up and strangle her. Kill her. Then it would be over. For both of them. How was Vaughn staying so calm?

"No."

"All right, Vaughn. Ready for the multiple choice section of the exam?"

Conrad grinned, turned his gaze on Devan for a moment to take a taste of her terror, then turned back to Vaughn.

"What shall it be, Vaughn? The choice is yours. Either you bend our sweet Devan over the dining table and fuck her virgin ass. Or I fuck you."

Vaughn barely reacted. Just for a second, he looked startled, like someone whose been expecting an injection and finally feels the pinch as the needle pierces the skin. That was all.

Conrad leaned over and put his lips by Vaughn's ear, and said softly,

"I've never fucked a man before, Vaughn, but I promise I'd be as gentle with you as you'd be with Devan."

Devan didn't know she was crying. Only that her vision was blurred. She hated herself for loving the touch of the man who could be so cruel to Vaughn, who could force him to say he would fuck her that way as if he'd really been given a choice.

Because he hadn't. There was no choice.

"You fuck me," he said.

"No!" she screamed.

"Devan. Shhhh," Conrad hushed her with a gentle voice and a tender smile that mocked her horror. "You know better than to interject when you haven't been asked to speak."

She didn't want to speak. She wanted to kill. Without thinking past the level of instinct she snatched the poker from the hearth and swung. It stuck. Like an ax stuck in a log. He'd caught it. Held it still. She let go. Reached for the next wooden handle, not 481

caring what implement she'd draw. Conrad caught her wrist, took her down, wrested the hearth broom from her hand.

"After everything, Conrad, after everything you've done, I don't hate you. But if you do this, anything to Vaughn," she sobbed, "I will. I'll hate you. Believe me."

With everything in her she hoped he cared as much as she imagined.

"I believe you, darling. And your hate's a far more alarming threat than that poker. You never fare well against me in hand-to-hand combat, do you?"

He laughed softly, making her tears dry up in hot fury.

"It's really good of you, Devan darling, to let me know I've not done anything yet to earn your hate, when all I'd hoped to get out of this little exercise was a good excuse to punish you. You know, don't you, that you've been a naughty girl. And now it's time for you to take your punishment."

There was something about the way Conrad was looking at her that chilled her.

He almost seemed nervous. What, after everything, could do that to him?

Roughly he gripped her arms and maneuvered her toward the couch, then spun her suddenly around with him, and perched on the arm.

"Down, Devan. On your knees."

He pushed down on her shoulders, emphasizing his order. She knelt down before him, and a second later he was undoing his belt, his pants. Was that it? Her punishment? Giving him head? The terror drained out of her. Maybe that would have horrified her, frightened her when they'd been back at Conrad's cabin, or even when he'd first arrived at Vaughn's. But she was well past that, now. She was surprised he didn't realize.

As he slid his pants down and slowly stroked his hard cock before her face, familiar pulsing heat pooled and throbbed in her sex. She hardly even tried to deny it to herself. She liked it. The idea of taking Conrad's cock in her mouth, making him pant and sigh and tremble. Causing and taking his orgasm. For once, now, she felt like the one with the power. And she wanted Vaughn, watching, to know that's how it was.

Before Conrad could give another order, before he could do anything that would make Vaughn fear that she was being hurt or forced, she pushed Conrad's hand aside, curled her fingers around the rigid shaft, and brought the full pink head to her lips and, looking up to watch Conrad's face, parted her lips and let him feel the first hint of her warm, wet tongue.

He didn't look nearly as surprised as she'd imagined. His familiar expression of amusement lingered vaguely even as he seemed to succumb to the excitement of feeling her mouth at his cock. She took him in a little. He smelled, tasted different than Vaughn. Felt different in her hand, in her mouth. Slowly she sank against him, letting his stiff prick sink deep into her mouth. Still a challenge, but not so hard as with Vaughn.

She drew back, taking in the feeling of his cock sliding over her tongue, against her lips.

His rigid fullness, the girth and curve of the shaft, its texture, the plump smoothness of the head. Keeping him against her lips she explored him with the tip of her tongue, then slowly sucked him into her mouth again, her throbbing cunt aching more urgently each time he stiffened or moaned or gasped.

Suddenly feeling his fingers raking into her hair she froze, wanting to hold onto this feeling of power. Of control. Afraid he was about to take it from her. But he didn't.

He didn't pull her against him, force her to take him deeper or faster. He only stroked her hair softly as he moaned, letting her kiss him her own way.

Until the very end. It seemed to come so quickly—the sudden tensing of his body, the flexing of fingers and limbs and abdomen she'd already learned to recognize as signs of pending climax.

"Taste me, Devan," he groaned, and pulling thick fistfuls of her hair, coaxed her back until just the head of his cock remained in her mouth.

He came, hot spurts of his come spattering her tongue, coating the inside of her mouth until he eased himself between her lips, glossing them with the last of his semen.

He watched as she licked her lips clean, tasting, swallowing him. The strange taste lingered.

"Why do you look so smug, darling?" he panted.

"Do I?"

"Oh yes. And I can guess why." Conrad grinned as he zipped up and began buckling his belt. "You're rather pleased with yourself, because you think you've borne my punishment so easily. But I'm afraid I haven't punished you, yet. That was just a delightful but necessary preliminary."

Facing each other they rose, almost in sync.

"The taste of me. It's still with you, isn't it, darling?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now give Vaughn a little taste."

"Wh…?"

"You heard me, Devan. Go on and give Vaughn a nice, long, deep kiss, and let him taste me. On your lips. On your tongue."

She couldn't even find words to protest. She was only vaguely aware that she was suddenly nauseous, already crying, backing away—away from Conrad, away from Vaughn. Away from this impossible thing Conrad was suggesting.

"Devan."

"No!"

"Do you really want to risk a worse punishment? Over such a little thing?"

Was there something worse? Worse than tainting a kiss between her and Vaughn with the taste of Conrad—the physical evidence of her perversion, of the ugliness she'd brought down on Vaughn, on their tiny, infant love. And Vaughn. He'd be…revolted. Tasting another man's…

"Conrad."

She looked at Vaughn.

"Untie me."

She looked at Conrad. Why did he look like that? He stared strangely at Vaughn for an interminable minute or two, then strode to him and undid the handcuffs.

The world—Devan's mad, scary, incredible world—no longer made sense.

Vaughn rose. Like some sci-fi TV episode where space or time folds, the next instant he was there, right with her. He must have walked, but…His face. Closer, closer.

"Don't."

It was a scream but she only breathed it out. Why was Conrad making them do this? This? Turning her into a piece of defiled meat he'd make Vaughn eat. Wasn't it 485

enough—making Vaughn watch as he touched her, as he fucked her, making her recite her obscene stories for Vaughn? It was done. They were obliterated. Didn't that satisfy him? Did he have to punctuate it by forcing Vaughn to touch her again as if it was still them?

She couldn't bear it—the thought of him coldly forcing himself to kiss her, the idea of his body stiff with disgust as he obeyed Conrad's order, allowing her tongue, tasting of Conrad's come, into his mouth.

"Don't!" she really screamed this time, covering Vaughn's mouth with her hand.

"Conrad! Please!"

Vaughn brushed her hand aside, sunk his fingers into her hair, pulled her close.

Out of her mind, sobbing, she hit his hands away, pushed him back, tried to dart away.

But he caught her, calmly, easily forced her back until she was pinned between him and the dining table. When he leaned in and she braced her arms against his shoulders to keep him back, he grasped her wrists and forced them behind her back. He moved in, gently nuzzled her cheek,

"What are you afraid of, Dev?" he whispered. "That I don't want this?"

He brought one of her hands to his crotch and pressed her hand to his erection, just letting her feel it before forcing her arm behind her back again. Then he gave her a kiss as tentative and tender as their very first kiss, gently brushing his lips over her bottom lip, softly sucking it, lightly caressing it with his tongue. That touch of his tongue made her blush.

"I taste him on you, Dev."

He kissed, caressed, softly sucked her top lip, slowly licked along the crease between her lips.

"I taste…where you've been…what you've done… You. It's all you, Dev."

Then he let her wrists go, curved his long fingers against her neck, her head, and took her mouth in a deep kiss. Long. Hot. Hungry. His hard body trembling against her, his hands pulling her to him, his breath quick and ragged.

When he stopped kissing her, when he pulled back and looked at her, it was like…there was momentum. He was going to keep coming. His body was leaning to push her down, hold her beneath him; his hands were on her, keeping her with him.

Her rigid body softened as he let her go. His body straightened, his hands slipped from her, and he stepped back, and returned to the chair he'd been bound to moments earlier.

Conrad. Taut anticipation dissolving in reserved disappointment. Devan could see that he'd thought…he'd hoped…She watched as a cold calm descended on him, veiling his excitement and frustration.

Vaughn's chest hurt. What had he been about to do? Give by taking. Protect by hurting. He was losing it. Reason. Reality.

Conrad crept up on him and purred like a cat in his ear.

"Poor, poor Vaughn. So full of want. You want her. You want that interminable ache in your cock relieved at last. You want to save her. Save yourself. You can satisfy all your want, you know. You just have to let go of your little framework for how the world works."

Then Conrad crept away and Vaughn wondered if the other's guard had been down, if he'd missed his chance to get them free of this terrible, ridiculous game.

"Now, Vaughn. One last multiple choice question for you. Forgetting that nonsense about me fucking you, of all the scenarios described in those stories of Devan's that you read today, which shall we act out this evening?"

He should have just taken her before. Given by taking. Protected by hurting.

Better, easier for her.

"Hmmmm?" Conrad prodded.

Scene after scene shimmered then faded from his mind like mirages, Devan's face, Conrad's and his own like masks on the shapes of her characters, spreading, thrusting, sucking, licking.

"Well? Do answer, Vaughn, or I'll decide for myself what you're to do with her."

"Stop talking about Devan like she's a thing." He'd managed, somehow, to keep his voice even, but he was shaking so violently he knew they could see. Knew they could see he was about to cry.

"Very well. Devan, love. Would you be so kind as to coax Vaughn up from his chair?"

Minutes later Vaughn was out of the chair, standing, shirtless, his bound wrists pulled taut above his head, where his restraints were secured to a beam. Devan had done it all, step by step on Conrad's orders, while Conrad kept safely out of range. As fucking always.

Now Conrad called Devan back to him, pulled her close, nuzzled and kissed her hair, then whispered in her ear. He went on whispering as Devan began to blush, as her chest began to heave with nervous panting.

Meeting Vaughn's eyes she came toward him, obviously nervous, but trying to be calm, maybe for his sake, He watched her shaking hands reach out and unbuckle his belt, undo his jeans. Even though it wasn't the same, not the same at all, he felt a sympathetic pang, wondering if she felt anything like he'd felt that night he'd taken her virginity, undressing her. Now he was the one who was bound. Helpless. But it was all the same. They were both helpless, either way.

She pulled gently and the weight of the belt dragged his jeans half way down his legs. His cock, hard with the arousal of watching her with Conrad, eager for whatever touch she was about to give him, strained against the confining hold of his briefs. She looked up at him, her eyes full of feeling he couldn't read.

A tremor shuddered through his body at the touch of her hand on his prick, her heat embracing him through the tight cotton. She watched him as she slightly tightened the curve of her fingers against him. She didn't know. Such a gentle touch, but afraid of hurting. Without thinking he tensed as her hand slid down to cradle his balls. Her look went startled and he attempted a reassuring smile. Warm and tickling her long hair brushed over his stomach as she pressed her head to his chest. God, to put his arms around her. To pull her to him and hold her. After a moment she lifted her head and her hair tickled away from his belly as her fingers slipped under the elastic and slid his briefs down and he stood naked, hard, bound. Waiting.

A hot surge flooded his tense body, his stiff cock, as Devan dropped to her knees. God. Fuck. She was going to take him in her mouth. Him bound. Her in control.