Authors: Britten Thorne
"Shh. You're okay." Adam pulled me down so I was lying on my back and gently draped an arm across my middle.
I jerked my body, hoping he would get the hint and move off me. But he only grunted with disapproval.
It felt good, though. His body heat felt like a magnet drawing me in. My shivers calmed, my muscles relaxed despite my racing heart. Adam was asleep in moments, snoring softly, and I dozed off soon after.
Then the noise started. The unmistakable sound of lips meeting lips, of clothing sliding against clothing.
Great. Just when I thought I'd get some decent sleep, too.
I tried to tune them out, but Sunny's little moans and sighs were too distracting.
Adam stirred next to me.
Don't wake up, don't wake up.
This was awkward enough already. Maybe I could just pretend to be asleep.
I considered clearing my throat and hoping they'd get the hint, but somehow I didn't think they'd give a damn. Adam chuckled silently.
He would find this funny.
I couldn't see anything still, but the cots jostled as he moved around.
What the fuck is he doing?
I realized it when his motion became rhythmic. He was jerking off right there next to me, to the sounds of some girl and his friend getting it on. The cot across the room creaked in an unmistakable pattern, and Sunny's breathy moans became more urgent.
And Adam's cot shook along with them.
This is just intolerable
. Rage boiled in my veins, and not just because of him - I was angry at myself, because it was turning me on, too.
I have a fever, I'm not myself.
My anger bubbled over and, unable to remain still, I elbowed him in the ribs.
He grunted in surprise. "Cut it out," I whispered.
"Mind your business." The sounds of flesh against flesh filled the air. Sunny's and Preacher's bodies slapping together as they fucked; Adam's hand stroking his cock. I couldn't see a damn thing, but the images in my mind were vivid enough. "Or lend a hand. Then you can comment all you like."
I elbowed him again, and he just chuckled. "Come on," he growled, "One look at those roped hands of yours on me and I'll explode in a second." He sounded different. It was like before, in the city, when I'd cracked his restraint.
It's who he really is, peeking out from behind that gentle, caring facade.
But it called to me - that dark rough tone, that wild passion.
"It'll warm you up, too." The cot stilled, and he lit a match. I turned to face him, and his eyes blazed with the little flame. Sunny and Preacher faded into the background. I felt hypnotized. I felt like I was dreaming. Or having a nightmare.
I couldn't stop from peeking lower. His cock stood from his pants - thick and rock hard, and wet with precum. His hips shifted beneath my perusal, and he grunted. "Touch it."
He blew out the match. I felt dizzy, and hazy, and like I was floating in the darkness. Surrounded by the sounds of sex, it seemed like the thing to do. Part of my brain screamed, but my body rejoiced at the contact when my searching fingers found his cock in the dark. He inhaled sharply. He probably thought there was no chance I would do it.
I let his shaft slide between my palms. It was a tight squeeze, bound as I was, and he thrusted his hips to fit through. I moved my hands along his hot, velvety skin, fascinated as he grew even harder with my touch. Pulsing heat bloomed between my legs. As if my fever wasn't hot enough.
What am I doing?
I squeezed tighter, creating more friction as he rocked up and down, using my hand to get himself off. Sunny's cries were reaching a crescendo; they wouldn't continue much longer.
Adam lit another match. His eyes latched onto my twine-bound hands stroking his cock. "Shit, Josie..." and he exploded. His milky white fluids spilled over my palms and through my fingers. His body shuddered with the force of it, and he released a suffering groan - satisfied, but all was not well.
"Let me touch you," he hissed. Fuck, I wanted him to. I trembled with need. Witnessing his climax made me starve for so much more.
But he was my captor. "I'll do it myself." My hands still wet with his cum, I awkwardly slid them down into my loose old pants and touched my swollen lips.
He yanked me close, nuzzling his face against my neck. "You drive me mad, Josie. How can I convince you to trust me?"
My hands ceased their downward exploration as his words gave me a chill. "Goddamn it, let me go!" It came out as more of a wail than I'd intended. Sunny reached her climax, her wails and pants in concert with a Preacher's own unmistakable growls.
"I can't," Adam said, "I can't."
We were both trapped. He clung to me like a lifeline and I wanted to cling back, and I wanted to recoil. I felt sympathy for him, then. He suffered just as I did, right and wrong aside. He was human too, and he hurt.
It's the fever talking. The fever!
I shook with sobs, though my tears were unshed. "Let me go, let me go." He shook, too, but he held me tight. We had conflicting needs. And his were stronger. What could I do?
Finally, in the warmth of his arms and my fever finally breaking, I slept.
We split up from his friends in the morning. “We’ve got more ladies to pick up,” Van explained as they wheeled their bikes out from their hiding places. No matter how much Sunny smiled about it, I wasn’t convinced that they didn’t have sinister intentions. Their end goal was to pick up a bunch of girls and start making babies - but did the girls have a say?
Not at the end of the world, they don’t.
“I’m not convinced Satan’s Assholes haven’t stopped chasing us yet, so we’re gonna get back to town as fast as we can. But be on the lookout, who knows if they’ll change their minds when they pick up your trail.” That raised a lot of questions, but I bit my tongue.
His problems. Not mine. I just want to go home.
“Josie.” Van hadn’t spoken to me once, yet, and I couldn’t imagine he had anything nice to stay. I kept my expression blank. “If anything happens to him, I’m looking to you.”
I held up my roped hands. “Maybe you all would have less problems if you didn’t kidnap people who just wanted to stay home!” Van only shrugged and mounted his motorcycle. Preacher was on his, and Sunny climbed on behind him.
“Good luck,” Preacher said to Adam, and they revved their bikes and took off. Sunny waved back at us as they pulled away.
We rode down dirt roads and across dry and silent fields. I only spoke up to ask about my knives, and he showed me that they were safe in one of his bags alongside his gun. We only saw the dead once, wandering aimlessly along the treeline of a forest far from us. If they turned in our direction, we were traveling too fast for it to matter.
I loathed admitting it, but his continuous attention helped me heal much faster than I would have on my own. He knew how to keep the wound and stitches clean. He made me drink and eat, even when I felt ill and didn't want to. He made sure I slept, even when he could have ridden on for hours more. He hunted; he scavenged for more canned goods and clean clothes when we came across houses and sheds.
I found myself watching him. Trying to figure him out. His leather jacket had that huge patch on the back - “club colors,” he said it was, but it looked black and white to me. It had what appeared to be a devil with angel wings, and above it read, “Devil’s Ashes.” Sometimes I still thought of him as the starving man I’d found and fucked in the street, rather than the man who aimed a gun at me and bound my wrists. It was dangerous thinking that way; I had to make a real effort to banish the memory of that time together. But I couldn’t forget how he’d made me feel, how we’d been so reluctant to let each other go as we walked. That last kiss that I’d had to turn away from.
Was he doing this because he was decent? Or was it because he was delivering me to more members of that club of his, and didn't want to come home with damaged goods? Was I simply worth more in good health?
We stopped in a barn one night just as it was beginning to rain. Without my jacket I'd be freezing cold in no time. The barn was empty except for scattered piles of straw. They looked like the most comfortable place we'd seen to sleep in days.
He quickly lit a tiny fire going in the center of the room. It was too dark to see anything, but he expertly used some papers and matches from his bags to get it started, then added hay from around the barn. It bathed the huge space in dim, dancing light.
Usually he released my wrists for a little while - just to eat and wash up. Just until he would need to sleep. He’d been ignoring me since we’d stepped inside, though. "We're running out of food," I said. At least the rain would fill his canteens. He'd managed to kill a bird or two as we traveled, but not enough to feed us if the cans ran out. And despite finding a few here and there as we traveled, we were almost out.
"Gas, too. I'll deal with that tomorrow. There's something else we have to do tonight." My heart skipped a beat. That couldn't mean anything good. "Sit down. Take your pants off."
His lip curled. "You still think I want to hurt you? You still don't trust me." I clenched my jaw shut. "I'm not going to fuck you." He spat the words out. "I'm just going to mark your hip."
I blinked. "What? Like a tattoo?"
He nodded and crouched by the fire. Wearing one heavy glove, he held something into the flames. "More like a burn, since I have no ink. But the mark will buy you help from any of my brothers if we get separated."
"Brothers? Devil’s Ashes?" This sounded more like branding than marking.
"Yes. With the mark and my name - my real name - it’s like having the club password. They'll take care of you."
"Yeah? And will they refuse to let me go, too? Are you sure this doesn't just make me your livestock?"
He glared at me. The fire danced in his eyes. "Low blow, Josie. I'm not a monster. Now sit the fuck down."
"I don't want it."
"I don't care. I'm protecting you now, and this is part of it." He sighed. "Don't make me force you, Josie. I really don't want to, but I will."
Finally, slowly, I removed my pants. The underwear stayed, of course, but still my heart beat fast and hard in my ears. I felt way too exposed. I folded the ratty old jeans and used them as a barrier between my ass and the hay as I sat on a small bale nearby. My hands shook; I did
want this. It would hurt and it would scar; I had enough pain and scars for a lifetime already.
I flinched as Adam leaned over with the needle. "Hey." He rested a hand in my arm and I flinched again. A looked crossed his face. Hurt?
He's holding me captive and he's hurt that I'm afraid?
"It only burns for a minute. It fades fast. Promise."
I gasped when he pressed the red hot needle against the skin on my hip. It hissed. "You bastard."
"I'm sorry." He made a small line before he had to turn back and reheat the bit of metal. I cringed again when he laid it against my skin.
We didn't speak as he worked. I watched at first as he formed a letter, taking care to make the lines straight and neat. “D” was the first to appear. The smell of my own burning flesh filled my nose, but he was right - the pain did fade to a dull ache pretty quickly.
And something else was happening. He was working close to my underwear, and he came dangerously close to brushing against me there as he stretched my skin taut for his needle.
The pain should have dulled whatever arousal his proximity might cause, but it didn't. Not at all. My lips parted as I tried to ignore the growing heat between my legs, tried to slow my breathing, but it was no good. Adam and his fucked up branding session was turning me on.
Maybe he won't notice.
My hips twitched when he touched me; I hoped he would assume it was in anticipation of the burns. But I gave myself away. When he looked up at my face, I blushed.
"Shit, Josie. You're going to drive me crazy."
"I don't know what you're talking about." I wanted to sound more offended, but I breathed the words, and licked my lips. My denial was downright pathetic.
"No?" He spoke quietly, his deep voice as dark as the barn around us. He touched the needle to my skin again. I gasped - and it definitely wasn't a gasp of pain.
Then, the knuckles of his ungloved hand brushed briefly against my mound as he moved back to the fire. Briefly enough to be an accident. But I knew it wasn't.
I should have said something right then. I should have protested.
He's my captor
, I reminded myself,
he's holding you against your will. Look at your damn wrists
. But another part of me, a part that I did not want to acknowledge, held my tongue.
This time when he pulled my skin taut, his bare fingers rested just at the edge of my panties, warm and rough against my inner thigh. My breathing was audible as he traced another line. "Almost through." He didn't move back to the fire right away, though. He traced the hem of my panties with his calloused digits, gently, following the line of fabric all the way down between my legs before moving back up again. He watched my face, his eyes dark and hungry, reflecting how I felt.