I sit back on his knees and stare at him. A perfect gentleman? He was anything but gentlemanly just a moment ago. He makes an excellent point though; he’s drunk entirely too much, and we took his car to the club. I could call a cab, but the truth is I’m just exhausted. All I want to do now is curl up and go to sleep. “No funny business?” I ask, though I can’t stop myself from rubbing my clit once more across his hardness, feeling a slight shiver run through my body, like the aftershock of an earthquake.

“No funny business,” Stone promises, flexing against me as he grits his teeth. “Is that a yes?”

I nod slowly. “That’s a yes.”

I gasp as the knife slices through the skin on my abdomen again. I feel the blood trickle down my stomach, and my eyes roll back in my head. Not for the first time since I was captured, I wish for death.

“Tell us what you know,” the masked man says as he presses the tip of the knife against my skin. “You can end this. You just need to tell us.” I grit my teeth and remain silent.

“So be it,” the man sneers, putting more pressure on the knife.

I let out a hoarse yell as the metal scrapes the bone of one of my ribs. My skin burns, and white-hot flashes of pain cause black spots to dance in front of my eyes.

“This is what you get!” the man yells, his eyes dancing with glee, watching the blood pour from me as I’m tied spread-eagle to the table. He puts his face close to me, holding the knife against his cheek through the black cloth mask. “You will die either way,” he taunts. “It’s up to you if you die quickly . . . or slowly.”

I turn my head to the side as I hear a noise. My breathing becomes labored as I see a group of men lifting the body of the young girl into what looks like a large, black garbage bag. I feel my stomach churn as one of them grabs her decapitated head off the ground and holds it up by the hair, laughing as he speaks to the other men in Dari. The man above him chuckles as he sees the look on my face. “You see,” he says, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth. “We are what you call . . . information gatherers. We believe you have the information we seek, and you will tell us the truth, or I have no problem cutting the lying tongue from your mouth.”

“I’m not lying,” I choke out, my eyes wide with pleading as I silently beg him to believe me. I watch in horror as one of the men walks over to us, a lit torch in his hand. This can’t be real. Things like this happen in books and the movies, not in real life. Not to me. My screams echo off the walls as the torch touches the sensitive skin on the bottom of my foot . . .

 

“Stone, wake up!”

I bolt upright, gasping for breath. I feel hands on me and I fight to shake them off, but they’re strong, holding me tight.

“Stone, it’s okay, it’s me.”

The fog slowly starts to lift from my brain and I’m back in my own bed, but I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel okay. I’m fucking terrified.

I look up into Shannon’s worried face, my eyes wide with terror. In desperation, I grab her and pull her down on top of me, kissing her as hard as I can, kissing away the nightmares. She knows. God help me, she fucking understands. Instead of pushing me away like I expect her to, Shannon holds onto me and kisses me with the same ferocity and passion I show her. A million and one sensations pour through me, and for a moment, it’s too much. I try to pull back, stop it before we go too far. She makes it clear that she doesn’t want that as she frees my hardened cock from the confines of my jeans, not bothering to remove our clothes. My hand reaches up and grips her hair, and for just a second I’m so glad she left it out of the tie.

Her mouth opens as I position her on top of me, sitting up slightly so I can pull her hair down her back, forcing her neck backwards to expose the smooth column of her ivory throat. I feel the smooth wetness beneath her skirt, and I growl when I realize she’s not wearing panties. The tip of my cock nudges inside her, and I tear my lips from her throat long enough to sit back and watch her mouth widen in an ‘o’ shape as I fill her for the first time. Christ, she’s so fucking tight I have to grit my teeth to stop from coming too quickly. I try to enter her slowly, but Shannon wants none of that. She surprises me by pulling her hair away from my hand, bracing her palms on my chest through my shirt. She’s trying to take control, to calm me. But right now, that’s not what I need. I need to be the one in control. I need to banish these fears, banish the screams.

I grab her wrists and lift her off me, throwing her onto the bed beside me. Before she can move, I roll over and grab her hips, pulling her up and turning her onto her stomach until she’s on all fours.

Flipping up her mini-skirt, I groan at the sight of her wet pussy as it’s bared to me. I run my fingers over her smooth ass, smiling a little as I see goose bumps appear on the skin. But I don’t want to waste any more time. Gripping her hips, I line up my cock and sink into her with one long thrust. She understands now. She knows what I need. Grunting her approval, she pushes back against me, flipping her hair so it streams down her back in long curls. I take advantage of that, moving one hand into her hair to grip it tightly, forcing her head back until she gasps in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Moving my hand beneath her to find her clit, I roll it around between my thumb and index finger. She cries out and clamps down on me, I can feel her slick heat pulsing around me, and it doesn’t take me long before I’m forced to pull out as I come in long, thick streams across her ass.

I flop down next to her on the bed, covering my eyes with my forearm as my breathing slowly returns to normal. I become aware of the beautiful woman next to me, and I’m filled with regret. After everything she’s been through, I used her. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Do I apologize? Do I act like it never happened? What’s the protocol for a one-night stand? I grab a box of tissues from the side table and take my time cleaning up the mess I left behind on her perfect ass, not quite ready to stop touching her. I drop the tissues on the table and turn back to her. She rolls over in bed to face me and I look at her, expecting to see regret in her eyes. Instead, I see understanding. This woman, this . . . angel, has come to me in my greatest time of need. I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat, too overcome with emotion to speak.

She doesn’t say anything but leans over to kiss my cheek. I turn my head at the last second, capturing her lips with my own. This kiss is different, though; it’s softer, gentler. I nibble lightly on her bottom lip and feel her smile. Her hand travels down my chest to the waistband of my jeans but instead of pulling them off like I expect, her hand disappears beneath my shirt. I tense, not ready for her to see that vulnerable side of me. I’m too scarred; she’s going to take one look at my body and run. I grab her hand and pull it out of my shirt, but she’s felt them. The scars. I can see the horror on her face. She’s going to leave. I brace myself for the rejection I know is coming.

But it doesn’t.

I flinch as she pushes my shirt up, exposing my scars to her gaze. The light from the lamp casts our shadows on the wall, and I choose to look at that rather than the horror on her face. She’s silent. Too silent. What the hell is she thinking? I risk a glance, and my heart almost stops beating from what I see.

Tears. She’s fucking crying. For me.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, wiping away her tears. I want to fucking laugh. She’s crying for me, and apologizing for doing it.