The Stolen Girl (11 page)

“You like the taste of that, kitty?” Slammer called out, his voice far above me and sinking down. “Better open wide, because here it comes again!”

The hands on the back of my head pulled forward. There was no way that I could resist against that strength. Helpless, I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, feeling that giant cock slide into me once again.

The skin at the edges of my lips stretched, cracked, as he pushed his way deeper into the back of my throat. I felt like gagging, but I couldn’t. I could only pull up more saliva, my body totally unsure of what to do or how to handle this intruder.

Slammer held me down on him for another minute, the longest of my life, and then eased up again. This time, he didn’t fully withdraw, but he stopped trying to force himself all the way down my throat, instead sliding the bulbous head of his dick in and out of my mouth. While one hand kept up insistent pressure on the back of my head, pulling and yanking at my hair, the other one crept down my shoulder. He flicked the spaghetti strap of my tank top off of my shoulder and yanked down. I shivered as his big, meaty fingers groped across my chest, pinching at my tits.

“Mmmph,” the man grunted as I kept on working back and forth at him. My tongue, not sure where to go, came up and flicked over the head of his shaft. Apparently this produced an extra sensation of pleasure, as he grinned down at me and tightened his grip on my head. “Do that again, girl!”

I had no choice but to comply. After a few more thrusts into my mouth, Slammer groaned again, but this time he abruptly yanked his cock free. As I opened my eyes and looked up at him, hoping that it was over, he reached down and looped his hands under my armpits. One tug, and he had hauled me to my feet. But the nightmare wasn’t over yet.

Slammer’s hands now both descended to my poor and battered shirt. One strong yank from them, and my top slid down to bunch up around my waist. My tits were now hanging out, free for Slammer’s eager, greasy eyes to take in. “Damn, kitty, but you got a nice pair on you!” he exclaimed, slowly running his fingers over them. But they weren’t enough to distract the man for long, as he continued to move downward.

His hands slid over my ass, covered just by my fleece pajama bottoms, and he yanked me forward against him so that he could better grope me. I felt his cock slide between my breasts as I landed against his chest, slippery and wet with my saliva. His hands squeezed first one of my ass cheeks, and then the other. Next, they slid back up to my waist, fumbling with the waistband. Pressed against his smelly, dirty shirt, I closed my eyes, hoping for it all to be over. All thoughts of escape, of anything but making this treatment stop, had vanished from my mind.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

It took me a moment to realize that I recognized that voice! I pulled my head back up, turning around to look, as another set of footsteps thudded closer. And an instant later, there were no longer any hands on me!

Slammer, who had just a second earlier been standing with his hands on my private areas, was several feet away, staggering and rubbing at his jaw. I turned and looked the other way. There, standing over me, was my savior - John Rhodes!

Roads was breathing heavily, his hands bunched up into fists, but his glare was directed entirely at the gang leader now several feet away. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he repeated, his voice a thundering roar. “Keep your filthy hands off of her!”

It took Slammer a few breaths to shake off the punch he had just eaten, but the man recovered quickly. “You had best back up, Roads,” he warned, his voice low, as he put his own hands up in fists. “You think it’s wise to go crossin’ me?”

“It is when you’re making a stupid damned decision!” Roads thundered back, not backing down in the slightest. “What could you possibly be doing? She’s our hostage, not our slave! You can’t go and violate her - not unless you want to spend the rest of your life in a ten foot cell!”

Slammer opened his mouth, his expression hot and angry as he prepared a reply, but Roads cut him off. “No!” he shouted. “This is not one of your bitches that’s always hanging around the house! This is a real person, a girl who is worth far more than you are. And I don’t want you to lay another finger on her.”

Despite the fury that I could hear, soaking into every one of Roads’ words, Slammer didn’t look like he was backing down. Instead, he began slowly taking a couple of steps sideways, moving around Roads with his hands balled into fists at his sides. Roads spared one last glance at the man, and then quickly turned to me.

“Upstairs, Beth,” Roads said to me, his voice taking on a hint of gentleness as he looked down at me. His face briefly softened, shifting from stone-faced fury into a look of deeply caring concern. “Back into my room. Go there and wait. Don’t talk to anyone.”

As my savior turned back to the devil in black leather, who was now tucking his cock back into his jeans with one hand while keeping his eyes on his opponent, I didn’t hesitate to take his advice. Pulling my stretched, torn fleece pants back up with one hand and throwing a hand over my chest with the other, I sprinted for the stairs. Several other bikers had emerged from the back by now, standing in a rough semicircle and silently watching the confrontation growing into a full-out fight. They briefly parted ranks to let me through and I sprinted past. I kept my eyes down, not daring to meet anyone’s eye.

Hurrying up the stairs and into Roads’ room, I kicked the door shut behind me and threw myself onto the bed. As I had reached the top of the stairs, I had heard the wet smack of flesh hitting flesh from behind me, and the murmur of the crowd. I didn’t dare look back. I didn’t want to see Roads, my defender, being hurt.

Lying on the bed, the conscious and rational part of my mind told me that I should pull myself together, should cover myself up and do my best to fix my tattered and half-destroyed clothes. I should take deep breaths, should put what had just happened to me in the past, should focus on how to best handle this situation and look for a way to escape.

I totally ignored that part of my mind. Instead, I pulled the blankets off of the bed and onto the floor, along with a pillow. On the slightly harder floor, where the slope of the mattress didn’t roll me around, I buried myself in the comfort of the covers, stuck my head beneath a pillow, and quietly let the tears flow out of my eyes.

As I sobbed in the comforting warmth, I finally drifted off to a restless, uneasy sleep.

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I
was awakened from my uncomfortable, uneasy doze by the sound of the door opening. I sat up, my mind screaming out wordless panic that there was an intruder, someone coming in to attack me, maybe to finish what they had started. But as my eyes shot wide open, trying their best to make out details in the twilight of the darkened room, I realized that it was just Roads, coming back in.

The man was still at the door, fumbling with something. I flopped back down on the ground, feigning sleep and trying to move as little as possible. Roads turned around and glanced at me, but he must not have seen my slitted eyes, as he let out a soft sigh of relief. I shifted around a little, trying to get into a position where I could see him at my feet.

With the door closed, Roads had slid his key into the lock, sealing the door to make sure that no one else could get in. He then moved over to the wall-mounted mirror, and I watched as he lifted up his shirt with both hands and slowly pulled it up and over his head. He seemed to be struggling a little bit to get the article of clothing off, and as the shirt slid up and over his broad shoulders, I could instantly see why.

Even in the hazy half light of the room, I could see the darker marks covering Roads’ chest and back. He looked as if he’d taken a hell of a beating in the fight, and from the way he was wincing, those bruises sank far beneath the surface. I couldn’t believe he’d done that for me, had taken all of those attacks in his quest to defend me.

Roads turned back and forth in the mirror for a few minutes, inspecting the damage, but then seemed to dismiss it with another long sigh. He turned around and, hands on his hips, surveyed his room. I was taking up most of the floor, and I had stolen away all of the covers from his bed. I half expected him to step forward and reclaim the soft accoutrements from me! But after a minute or two, the man simply crawled onto the stripped bed beside me.

I heard the bedsprings creak a few times as the man settled into a position on top of the bed, and then he seemed to find a comfortable spot and the noises ceased. I flopped back, gazing up at the ceiling. I felt that maybe I should say something, say thanks, but I didn’t know how to express the deep-seated warmth and gratitude deep inside me. Instead, I merely laid there, listening to the big man’s breathing as it slowly grew slower and deeper.

For a long time I lay there, unable to fall asleep. My thoughts were a swirling miasma, nothing really making sense. And despite the blankets swaddled around with me, I still felt chilled and cold. It was like there was a cold seated inside my bones, one that couldn’t be warmed from the inside no matter how hard I tried.

Finally, with no conscious thought in my brain any more, I stood up, climbing to my feet, still wrapped in the blanket. I took the step over to the edge of the bed and gazed down. Roads was lying in the center, in the middle of the creased depression on the bed, with his chest facing up and his mouth hanging ever so slightly open. The sight made me quirk up my lips slightly.

Moving slowly, cautiously, trying not to disturb the sleeping man, I slid onto the narrow double bed alongside him. I ended up lying half on top of him, half beside him, but I could feel the warmth radiating off of his naked chest, soaking into my overly tired body. I pulled the blankets up over us as best I could and nestled my head against his big shoulder. Lying there, I listened to his breathing, felt him rising up and down beneath me.

I was asleep in less than five minutes.

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I
slowly, groggily opened my eyes. There was sunlight streaming in, but it was uncomfortably bright, and I squeezed my eyelids shut against the glare. I was sleepy and warm, wrapped in what felt like puffy clouds. I was completely, utterly comfortable.

I wiggled my shoulders back and forth, trying to sink in even deeper into those puffy clouds. As I shifted, however, I felt something stir next to me. Next to me? I cracked one eye open, just a fraction, and turned to gaze over to my side.

Next to me, only inches away, Roads was also beginning to stir, slowly blinking a few times as his consciousness made the long trip up from sleep. It took him a moment, but it eventually settled in to his mind as well that I was curled up next to him. I could feel something warm and comfortably heavy draped over me, holding the covers in place, and I slowly connected the dots. I was snuggled up in Roads’ arms, pressed up against him while his big arms and hands wrapped around me. And it felt amazing.

Roads had both of his arms mostly trapped due to being linked around me, but he managed to free his bottom right arm with a couple of gentle tugs, and propped himself up slightly so that he could gaze over at me. “Not quite the face I expected to wake up next to,” he said, his voice carrying the tell-tale raspiness to show that he had just awoken.

I didn’t want to reply, wanted to drift back off into peaceful oblivion, but I couldn’t prevent a slow smile from breaking out. “I was cold,” I murmured, hoping that this flimsy explanation for why I was in this man’s bed wouldn’t be questioned.

Roads’ grin widened a little more. “Am I doing a good job of warming you up?”

As a response, I let out a little moan of contentment and scooted closer to him, tucking my face against his neck, beneath his chin. I could feel the stubble of his face and neck pressing against my skin, comfortably rough, a pillow of gently breathing sandpaper. My arm was flopped over his naked chest and I pulled it tighter around him, feeling his muscles shift beneath my fingertips.

After a minute of this, however, I felt Roads stirring beneath me again, once again drawing in breath to speak. “Listen,” he said slowly, letting his voice warm up. I could feel his throat rumbling beneath my ear as he spoke, providing a deeper counterpoint to his tone. “I just want to say something.”