Hostage of my Heart Ch. 01

When he looked away from her face, his eyes blazed. Her bra was black and completely sheer, but it was the mottled birth of bruises covering her left breast which made his teeth click together.

Don't say anything else. Opal pleaded mentally. Just do it.

"Nice tits, Opal." Sainte commented from the head of the table.

Rand didn't want to agree with the prick about anything, but he couldn't help acknowledging the truth of that. Opal's breasts weren't big-- C-cup at most-- but they had gently sloping upper curves with the sweet upturned tips and rounded lower surface he loved. His mouth dry, he raised his eyes. She'd stopped crying, but the tracks of her tears were still wet on her face. Her gaze was steady, even as his fingers went to the clasp between her breasts.

Fuck. This was not what he wanted, but he didn't know how to get out of it without getting them killed.

Her bra clasp undone, he drew the cups back and pushed the straps off her shoulders, freeing her breasts. They were perfect, the skin as pale and delicate as a baby's. Her nipples were pale pink and puffy, tipped with a hint of raspberry, which Rand guessed would darken when she was aroused. They were soft now, though.

Again he hesitated. This time he caught the fierce flash of her eyes as her hands went to her belt buckle. She was angry, Rand realized, and not just about the situation: she was angry and frustrated with him. That was why she'd hurried ahead. She was resigned to doing whatever this man wanted them to do, and she meant to cooperate. Rand's hesitation was endangering her.

Rand brushed her hands away and undid the buckle himself. If this was what they had to do to survive, and she was willing, this is what he'd do.

He lowered her feet to the floor and unzipped her pin-striped pants. Shifting his weight to close the distance between them, Rand's warm palms moved against her flesh, his eyes locked on hers as his fingers dipped beneath the sides of her panties, pushing them off her hips as he lowered her trousers.

Opal's mouth remained a tight straight line, though a troop of butterflies had taken up residence in her belly.

Rand bent his knees, stroking down the sides of her thighs until the pants fell by themselves.

She tried not to gasp as his cheek brushed her nipple, but Rand's eyelids flickered, and she thought he knew.

With a grumbled aside toward his men, Sainte strode casually down the aisle between the desks and honor guard of hostages, taking a seat at the head of the table, maybe eight feet from Opal. Leaning back, he folded his arms with the same sinister grin, watching Opal shiver as Rand began to unbutton his shirt.

His chest was broad and well-muscled, Opal saw, with a patch of salt-and-pepper hair between his nipples, more peppery than the hair on his head, and darker still where the line led south past his navel. She hadn't thought of him as an athlete until then. Wearing a dress shirt and pants, Mr. Branch appeared competent and professional, more than able to control his growing empire. With his shirt off, you saw a man who could built an empire, stone by stone.

Rand drew a chair out and sat to untie his shoes.

Opal was vaguely amused to see him remove his socks, as well, folding them together and depositing them neatly atop his shoes. When he stood to face her, she noticed for the first time how much taller he was. His nipples were just above the level of her mouth. If the situation had been different, she would have reached up to flick her tongue across the two small brown buds. Her pussy hummed, unburdened by morals or situational concerns.

Rand unbuckled his belt. His trousers fell of their own accord, and he kicked them aside, leaving him clad only in black jockeys. He was tan all over. Mediterranean or maybe American Indian, Opal thought.

"Stop." Sainte commanded, as Rand's hands went to his waistband. "Let Lady Opal do that."

This time, Opal hesitated on purpose, not wanting Sainte to sense her lack of objection. She lowered her eyelids and didn't move.

It worked.

A threatening note in his voice, Sainte growled a one-word order. "Opal."

Another tiny hesitation before she obeyed, stepping forward and slipping her fingertips beneath the elastic.

Rand thought Opal was sexy as hell and would like nothing more than to climb in bed with her, but raping a woman didn't appeal to him. Until he felt her breath against his chest and her fine-boned hands on his sides, his penis had been silent on the subject. He'd been hoping somehow to use it as an excuse to get them safely out of the situation.

But her hands touched his sides at the same moment her scent reached his nose, and his cock woke up.

She mimicked the slow slide of his palms down her hips, but the clinging jockeys didn't fall halfway, and Opal was forced to follow them almost all the way to the floor. Her tousled brown hair brushed against him and he was lost. Blood flowed into the tissues of his penis and was trapped. By the time Rand lifted his feet from his shorts, his cock was at full attention.

When she looked up, Opal's eyes widened. Her mouth dried and her nostrils flared delicately. She completely forgot to mask her reaction, but fortunately it could be taken another way.

"Well, well, well. Betcha didn't expect that, Opal." Beneath Sainte's snide comment, she heard one or two of the other men laughing, as well.

Opal was frozen at Rand's feet, staring at his cock, hardly conscious of other people in the room. She barely stopped herself from licking her lips in anticipation. Hell, she barely stopped herself from licking Rand's cock, slobbering over it like a hungry puppy. The thing was fucking huge, gorgeous-- longer than average, which was nice, and thick, which was even better. It was majestic. She swallowed. It was scary. If they'd been alone... but they weren't, and Opal didn't think Sainte cared how much foreplay she needed to be comfortable with that monster stretching her pussy.

Sainte laughed at her shock, and Opal rose, trying to ignore the flutters in her belly and the murmurs from her female co-workers.

Rand watched her face pale.

Shit.

He knew his cock was thicker than most. He'd been with two women who refused to have sex with him because of it-- but until that moment he stupidly hadn't thought of the difference in their sizes. He wasn't overly tall-- six-one or so-- but Rand was built like a hockey player, solid from his shoulders down to his size-twelves. Compared to him, Opal was tiny. Her wrists, he saw now, weren't as big around as his cock. His jaw flexed. Shit, he thought again.

This was going to hurt her. Fuck, fuck, and fuck.

"Okay, Hero. Get to it."

Rand turned furious eyes on Sainte, but he eased Opal back to her seat on the table, hoping like hell the asshole gave him time to arouse her. His hands rose slowly along her ribcage, cupping her breasts, his thumbs flitting across the peaks. The touch of his right hand was softer by far, and Opal realized he was being careful near her bruises. She shivered, her nipples hardening.

Sainte saw it immediately and laughed.

Opal's formerly pale face flushed and she closed her eyes.

Rand's jaw clenched. The bastard. This lovely creature wasn't the one who should be ashamed. Bending, he nuzzled her neck, feeling the pulses flutter in her throat. Sainte was the one who should be ashamed, but Rand doubted he was capable of the emotion.

Rand himself was dismayed by the fact that his cock was still standing stubbornly erect despite Opal's dread and humiliation. One hand on her jaw, Rand kissed her. It started out slow and tender, but quickly deepened into the hottest, most passionate kiss he'd ever experienced.

Her nipples were hard points stabbing into his palms, her mouth talented and welcoming, but Opal trembled in his arms. She whimpered, and as soon as Rand lifted his head, hers fell forward.

"Shit." He muttered aloud.

Sainte laughed again. "The bride appears unwilling, Hero."

Opal shuddered, trying to hide her expression from Rand, who was obviously a good man. Hell, nine out of ten guys would have had a hard-on when she was sitting there naked, but when he'd dropped trou, Opal had seen immediately that, beneath the tight black jockeys, he wasn't aroused. For a long minute, until they were down, she'd been worried about the possibility of him being gay or impotent, though she'd seen the admiration in his eyes when her breasts were revealed. With that gorgeous cock pressed against her lower belly, she was no longer in doubt.

"Opal." At his command, she turned her head toward Sainte. Like every other abused child, Opal was an excellent actress. She'd learned which emotions to hide and which to let show in order to placate the animal living in their midst. The eyes she showed Sainte were glossy with tears.

His gleaming with satisfaction, Sainte bared his teeth in a grisly smile. "Lay the fuck down on that table and spread your legs for the hero, Opal."

Her hands went to Rand's sides, and ever so slowly, she lifted her eyes to his, which were filled with concern and regret. She flicked one last look of anguish at their captor, then turned her head and winked at Rand.

She saw his shock as she positioned her bottom on the edge of the table. She stroked his waist, microscopic pats on the side opposite Sainte, hoping Rand would understand. Rand's mouth softened as he shifted his hold, helping her lower herself to a reclining position. She lifted her heels to the edge of the table and it was Rand's turn to shudder.

Her pale skin shone against the table-top, which was stained only a shade or two darker than the halo of her shiny, shoulder-length hair. The hair at the apex of her thighs was trimmed and shaped into a long, narrow vee. His mouth watered. The otter-dark patch would be hidden beneath a bikini, but he liked that it was there: she looked like a woman, not an adolescent girl. He hadn't liked teenage girls even when he was a teenage boy, but Opal would have fascinated him then as she fascinated him now.

Rand's hands went to Opal's knees and for a moment, he forgot where they were. He stroked her thighs, gently pushing outward until his thumbs brushed the soft pink lips. Unbelievably, he felt a touch of moisture there, and his eyes flew to Opal's face. She watched him steadily, and abruptly, Rand understood the wink.

She was okay. She was more than okay. She was smart and doing what she had to do to survive. The pool of self-loathing in the pit of his belly began to dissipate. Mimicking her message, Rand winked in return. He saw the quickly extinguished surprise and the beginnings of a smile. Conscious of their audience, Opal quickly turned it to a grimace and covered her face with what sounded like a cry of despair.

Sainte's fist landed on the table with a horrendous bang, startling everyone. "Hands down, bitch! I want to see your face."

Opal lowered her hands slowly to the table, but this time Rand could tell right away that the fearful expression on her face didn't extend to her eyes. His heart melted.

Holy shit. She had to be the bravest person he'd ever seen.

"Now fuck her, Hero!"

Without hesitating, Rand bent and put his mouth on her.

Opal stiffened, her fingers pressing against the table as she struggled to freeze her facial expression at fear and not let it slide into the oh-my-holy-fucking-shit amazement that was zipping around her pussy behind Rand's tongue. Sainte would probably get a kick out of her humiliating herself by enjoying the public rape, but maybe not. And anyway, she had to hold off as long as possible to uphold her apparent resistance.

Rand was pleased to discover Opal was more than moist: she was wet. Using his thumbs to gently hold her outer lips apart, Rand licked from Opal's vagina to her clit, where he twirled his tongue, avoiding the firm peak. He felt her twitch and used his palms to pin her hips to the table as he continued his ministrations, hoping she wouldn't moan. Tiny quivers of her flesh told him he'd been right about her arousal.

"That's enough. Fuck her."

Rand straightened slowly, his jaw tense, but didn't turn his head to glare because he didn't know if her moisture would show on his lips.

Hoping her leg blocked the view, Rand slid his penis along the length of her pussy a couple of times, watching the wide head part her lips and press the folds of tender flesh aside as her wetness spread to him. Her whole body twitched each time he reached the tip of her clitoris. Before Sainte could take over directing, Rand pulled back and placed the head of his cock at her entrance, his muscles tensing. He didn't see how she'd be able to accommodate him.

Shit, he realized, he hadn't even put his finger inside her yet. Nonetheless, he leaned forward.

Opal's hands fisted at her sides, and her stomach muscles clenched as the pressure grew. Holy shit turned into HOLY SHIT. She breathed deeply through her nose, a frown of concentration wrinkling her brow as she relaxed the muscles of her pelvis. After what seemed like an eternity, the plum-sized head of his penis slipped into her pussy.

Helplessly, Rand groaned, and Opal bit her lower lip as her spine arched. She didn't hear the murmurs of her co-workers this time, nor was she conscious of the intensity of Sainte's stare.

Rand paused, his chest heaving, praying Opal's body had time to adjust before Sainte cracked the whip again. Slowly her spine came to rest on the table. Rand moved his hands to her waist, and Opal rocked her pelvis, trying to accommodate the thick invader.

This time, Sainte just tapped the pistol on the table.

With a deep breath, Rand began to inch forward. It took longer than he expected, but Sainte didn't seem to mind, probably because the whole time Rand was trying to force his way into Opal's tight pussy, she was visibly straining to take him. Her back arched, her hands fisted, her head tossed from side to side. At one point, she placed her extended fingers on his belly, whimpering. She barely bit back the "No"s, but Rand could read them on her face.

If he hadn't seen moments of peaceful satisfaction, too, if he hadn't felt her hips rocking and her pussy weeping at his touch, Rand would have stopped despite Sainte's threats, but every time he withdrew, a crease appeared between Opal's brows, and her pussy clamped down on his shaft as though trying to prevent his exodus. Finally, his whole cock was inside her, and he fell forward across her body with another rough groan, claiming her lips.

She kissed him back but left her hands fisted in place on the table, maintaining her show of reluctance. Well, not a show, Opal thought-- she really was reluctant. She didn't want to fuck Rand under these circumstances. If they were saved in the next sixty seconds, she'd be damn sure to follow him home, though.

Rand withdrew an inch and surged forward again, lifting his mouth to look in her eyes. Opal didn't think that was wise, but she couldn't look away. Rand continued to short-stroke and, while Opal didn't exactly loosen up, after a few minutes Rand found he didn't have to put as much effort into it.

He straightened and began to fuck her in earnest.

Opal bit her lip for the longest time, but against her will, her legs rose to embrace his waist. Still, she tried. Once she fleetingly considered writing a grocery list in her head, but the thought was quickly subsumed in sensation. Rand's cock caressing the inner walls of her pussy filled her to the point of pain, but her outer lips were splayed and every thrust drew her clit down between his belly and her pubic bone. Her tension grew until she forgot they had an audience at all, never mind caring what anyone thought.

It was only her and Rand. Only her wet, clasping pussy and his swollen steel shaft. Her entire existence narrowed to the expanding, molten core of her body, controlled solely by the movements of Rand's hard cock. Her peak hovered achingly out of reach. Opal was in agony, some corner of her mind sure she wouldn't come, that Rand would finish before she did, but he lifted her hips and leaned forward, fucking her brutally, and she shattered, screaming through teeth clenched to prevent it.

Rand ground his teeth and held on for an endless two minutes, dragging Opal's orgasm into writhing, moaning madness before he came too, his fingers digging into her hips as he groaned.

He collapsed atop her, panting, and though it took both of them a while to come back to reality, Rand heard the crude comments and Sainte's thugs clapping. He believed-- he hoped-- that his body blocked enough sound for Opal to miss the byplay, and he was grateful for that. She was embarrassed already, pressing her face to his chest, shielding burning cheeks as Rand lifted his head to glare at Sainte, who studied them thoughtfully, the evil and ever-present grin surprisingly absent.

"You sure you two never met, Hero?"

"I moved here from Dallas a week ago." Rand growled. "I don't know a single person in the whole damn state."

"Huh," Sainte mused, tapping the barrel of his H&K on the table and making Rand nervous, even if the asshole did keep his finger off the trigger.

He stared at them for another minute and shrugged. "Get dressed, Hero."

Opal lowered her hands and caught their captor's eye.

Sainte had other plans, but doubted Rand would cooperate if his lady were left unclothed. "You, too, slut," he added.

Their bodies were still connected, and Rand felt Opal's wince as well as his own when the epithet landed. He straightened with one arm around her back, lifting her easily with him to shield her body from the eyes of their audience.

Sainte strode back to the group and took one of the men aside for a muttered consultation.

Rand turned and his cock finally slid from Opal's embrace. She stifled a moan, but he felt her pained shiver. He placed her in front of him and turned her body away. "Stay right there."

Keeping as much of his body between her and the group as possible, he dipped to grab her pants and panties from their heap on the floor and bent back over the table to reach the bra and shirt, which he pulled closer, proffering the pants over her other shoulder. "Here. If you stay right where you are, I'm between you and the room; no one can see you."

Opal flicked a startled look up and over her shoulder as he stood quietly waiting, ignoring his own nudity. She hurriedly bent to do his bidding.

As soon as her pants and shirt were on, Rand lifted his hands, meaning to comfort her, but he let them fall back to his sides without touching her. He'd just raped her, for Christ's sake. Did he honestly think she'd accept comfort from him?

"It's not enough, but I am so incredibly sorry, Opal."

She froze, her hands at her buttons, and Rand sighed, bending to retrieve his underwear. He half-turned as he attempted to locate them, unconcerned with whether or not the vultures got a glimpse of cock and balls. What a bunch of jerkoffs, pretending they didn't know her. Pants and jockeys in place, he sat to put his socks and shoes on.

When Opal squatted to reach a shoe which had migrated under the table, she spoke without looking at him. "Don't apologize. I chose you on purpose."

What? Rand stopped moving.

He went back to tying his shoe and asked the question aloud, mimicking her by moving his lips as little as possible. "You said NOT the old guys on your island."

Opal sat down to pull her shoes on, which seemed like overkill with slip-ons until Rand realized how close her head was to his knee. "He's just like my father. I knew he'd pick whoever I refused. You made it wonderful for me."

Rand snorted in surprise-- he couldn't help it-- and got a glimpse of her cheeks rounding before she turned away.