Caged (2 page)

Chapter Three

I let out the breath I was holding as the heavy steel doors close. I press the button to take us to the ground floor counting every second that ticks by before I can be free from this wench. Everything about her irritates the shit out of me: the way she walks, the way she holds her head, her voice, the things she says, the noise her fucking shoes make on the concrete. Every. Damn. Thing.

              The car comes lurching to a halt tossing me against the wall. I brace myself on the handrail to keep from falling then realize my client hadn’t been so lucky. Spread out on her ass, her skirt had ridden up her legs in the fall and she is holding her ankle. That’s what she gets for wearing those stupid ass shoes to look at a damn mill. Extending my hand to help her up, she backhands my arm, “I’m fine. I don’t need your help.” Ahh, the wounded pride of a woman shining through.

              “Suit yourself,” I lean back against the wall wondering how long we’ll be held captive. I fucking hate this goddamn building. Every time I step foot in here it’s like something tries to cage me in like a damn animal.
I’
m half tempted to buy the damn thing myself, burn it down and sell the land. In fact, I do
n’
t know why I have
n’
t yet. I
t’
s a win-win for me all around and will stop me from having to deal with crazy old ladies and bitchy clients.

              Little Miss keeps her happy ass planted on the floor, slipping off her heels, rubbing her ankle, which is obviously tender, but I keep my yap shut. Let her wallow in her own self-loathing for all I care. Once again she reaches for her damn cell phone. We are in a steel box, how could she possible think she’s going to get any reception in here. At least this time she’s bright enough to notice there are no bars and doesn’t attempt a call before sliding it back into her bag.

              “Now what?” she huffs.

              “Now, we wait.”

              “Wait for what? It’s not like there’s some maintenance crew that’s going to come looking for us.
”
Despite her landing on her ass from a less-than-graceful fall, she still spews venom at me.

              “We wait for the elevator to start working again, or my office to come looking for m
e—
whichever comes first.”

              “That could take hours,” she wails like a petulant child.

              “What would you have me do about it, Princess?” This bitch is getting on my nerves. I don’t want to do time for strangling her, but if we are stuck in here together long enough, it might come that to save my sanity.

              “Quit calling me Princess.” She pouts glaring up at me from her seat on the floor.

              “Quit acting like one.”

              “Who do you think you are? You can’t talk to me like that.” She drags herself up using the handrail, then pokes her finger in my chest like she’s a bad ass. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

              “Does it look like I care who you are? From my vantage point all I see is a spoiled brat who needs to be taken down a notch.”

              “How dare you,” her hand raises as if she’s going to slap me. I catch her wrist in mid-strike.

              “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She yanks her arm free from my grasp in a huff. “Why don’t you just sit back down and shut up. The less we talk the better off we’ll both be.”

              She looks as if she’s going to say something snarky back but decides against it as she sits back down on the floor pulling her knees to her chest.

I resign myself to our fate, taking a seat on the floor. I get the feeling this is going to be a very long night.

Chapter Four

I play games on my phone for a couple of hours to ward off the crazy that is starting to fill my mind until my phone finally dies. Claire’s died about twenty minutes before mine. I’ve watched her from the corner of my eye as she’s picked at her skirt and blouse. She reminds me of a monkey pulling mites off another monkey, and I have to suppress a laugh. The anger has dissipated and I can acknowledge when her mouth is shut just what a striking woman she is. Her green eyes are such a stark contrast to her dark hair. Her milky complexion doesn’t have a flaw in it. Her cheekbones are high, perfect nose, and lovely neck. Somewhere along the way, she took the tie out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders in loose waves. She tucks the shiny locks behind her ear unaware she’s being watched.

              Her head slowly turns in my direction and I notice her eyes are brimmed with tears. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

              “I’m terribly claustrophobic. I was doing okay with my phone to distract me but when it die
d…
,” she admits as a tear slides down her cheek. Her voice different than any other time she’s talked since I met her. Childlike.

              I want to feel sorry for her. I’m sure it’s tough to be stuck in an elevator with a stranger facing your fear with no escape. If she were
n’
t such a bitch this would be so much easier. In typical male fashion I simply say the obligatory, “I’m sorry.”

              She doesn’t have a sassy come back, just nods her head and looks down to her empty lap. “Would it help to talk? Maybe take your mind off your surroundings.” She just shrugs her shoulders completely defeated, a shell of the woman who stepped out of the Mercedes a few hours ago.

              “I take it you didn’t know anything about this building before you called my office to see it?” She shakes her head no in response. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

              Wiping the tears off her face with the side of her finger, “My father.” I wait for her to continue, there has to be more to it than that. “I’ve been looking for a space to renovate for a loft. I like the feel of the old mills and warehouses and thought maybe I could find a place I could take one floor and sell or lease any other floors. Anyway, my dad has really been pushing me to find something, wanting me out of his house. He knows the old cow who owns this place. She convinced him it would be perfect for me, going so far as to tell him it had fairytale possibilities. I don’t think my dad gives a shit about the possibilities he just wants me out. After weeks of nagging me, I finally gave in to get him off my back. It’s not good enough that my entire life revolves around his businesses. He never takes into account the reason I haven’t found a place is because I work eighty hours a week. It’s not like I want to be in my dad’s house at thirty years old.” Tears are streaming down her face as she unloads the burden she’s holding in. “To answer your question, yes, I have heard rumors but don’t believe in the supernatural. I figured we’d be in and out in thirty minutes. He’d be off my back, the old lady would be satisfied I had at least looked, and I wouldn’t have wasted too much of your time.” Ah, she has a desire to please after all. Maybe she’s not the frigid bitch I had been hanging out with for the last five hours.

              “I hate to admit it but there is something about this place and the woman who owns it. Every time I’ve ever been here something weird has happened. I always feel like the building wants something from me, but hell if I know what it is. Maybe being trapped in here will enlighten me. You know the woman who owns it has refused to let me list it with another agent despite repeated attempts. I’ve begged her to let me out of the contract. She’s convinced the right buyer will come along who will want to renovate the space instead of demolish it.” I let the words drift off, silence engulfing us.

              When it has become too awkward and I need to hear something other than Claire breathing, I tell her what I would do with the building if I owned it. I describe the courtyards I would create outside, the area for an in-ground pool, a black iron gate surrounding the property. I would take each floor and make them into lofts, leaving the industrial feel but putting in really high-end appliances and fixtures. There is a little over five thousand square feet on each floor, which would make for really nice floor plans, erecting three to four bedrooms on each floor with their own bathrooms, a state of the art kitchen, and enormous living space. I watch her face as she listens to my fantasy, and I swear she’s getting the visual I am. “The third floor would be an amazing home. The view over the city is incredible. I can only imagine what it would be like at night from a couch that was perfectly placed.”

              “I wish you would have told me all of this as we were walking through it. I think I can see it in my head but it would have been a lot easier with the floor in front of me.”

              “You weren’t up for talking.”

              “Sorry about that. It’s easier to be a bitch and have people leave you alone than to allow anyone to get close enough to see the cracks.” Vulnerabilit
y—
I didn’t see that coming. She gives me a shy smile and I can’t stop myself from smiling back. I notice her lip tremble as she fights back tears.

              Without thinking, I reach over putting my arm around her shoulder and tuck her into my side. She lays her head on my chest and I feel the walls crack as the damn begins to break. She cries quietly on my chest but I feel the emotion in her body, ebbing its way out. With her feet balled up under her, I feel more like I’m coddling a child than a grown woman. I want to ask her if it’s the situation or her overall circumstances, but decide to stay quiet. Women usually start to talk once they’ve gotten out the tears.

              Surprisingly, she doesn’t talk. When the tears subside, she wipes her face with her delicate fingers, somehow keeping her makeup perfectly intact. Pushing off my chest with her hand just enough to look up me, my eyes meet hers. There is a storm brewing in the swarm of green. Right as I determine it’s not anger but rather lust, she tilts her chin up toward me, moving her head within an inch of my mouth, hesitating, as if to give me the chance to push her away. I take pride in using a woman’s body to its full potential. I seize the opportunity taking her mouth with my own, pressing against her, nipping at her bottom lip with my teeth. As she pulls back, lips still ensnared by my teeth, she lets out the most erotic moan I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing before coming back into the kiss. Sweeping her tongue into my mouth, she ignites a fire in my cock that produces an instant hard-on.

              The speed at which it comes on leaves my balls aching and my dick throbbing, mimicking each beat of my heart. I can feel the skin tightening between my legs as the testosterone-driven needs surge though my body. It’s a controlled rage, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, begging me to take my prey. The intensity in which Claire carries herself spills over into these ministrations. With each thrust of her tongue, my heart rate increases, my muscles tense. I sit up, taking her with me, cupping her face in my hands; the twitch in my biceps telling me to restrain myself but my mind is on autopilot. This isn’t about love it’s unadulterated lust, and by the look in her eyes it’s mutual, but I’m careful to keep my aggressive sexual nature in check.

              On our knees, never losing contact, her hand finds my lower back, the other joins it. As her fingers dig into my skin she pulls the tail of my shirt just slightly with each clinch. The deeper the kiss, the more responsive she is. She moves her hands to my sides and presses her palms into me as her fingers find bare skin. While I continue to fuck her mouth with my tongue, she allows her hands to explore my chest, my upper back, down my sides to my ass, pulling me close to her. She grinds my dick into her center breaking away from me tossing her head back. “Fuck, Claire…” saying her name must have ignited something inside of her as she pushed into me again, finding temporary relief in my hard cock massaging her skirt-covered clit. I watch her face for any sign she wants to retreat, but find none.

              My hands slip to the hem of her blouse, her eyes are fierce as she waits for me to determine how far this will go. If this girl thinks for one minute I’m going to turn her hot ass down, she’s a fool. She may be a bitch, but she’s got the body of a goddess willingly offering me a sacrifice. I lift the silky material over her head followed by a tiny little silk tank top she wore underneath to reveal the sexiest white lace bra I’ve ever seen. Her chest heaving with anticipation, I can see the vein in her neck marking time with each pulse as her heart races. Her rib cage expands with each inhalation and her breasts threaten to break free from the fabric encasing them. I can just make out the top of her erect nipples peaking over the trim, a soft brown-pink color.

              I stop waiting for permission and begin to just take what I want. Right now what I want is those swells in my mouth. Setting them free, I drop her bra to the ground absently, pulling her to me by her lower back with one hand, the other cupping her perfect tit in my right hand. Lifting slightly with a hint of a squeeze, her peak finds its way to my lips. Suckling it, testing it with my teeth, pulling gently, she utters the first word since this started, “Yes.” It’s throaty and deep, but damn, is it fucking hot. I smile into her mound as I take more of it in my mouth and begin to play with the other using my free hand. She responds to the pain of the pleasure as I pinch and bite.

              “Sasha,” she draws out my name in that same deep moan. Threading her fingers in my hair, the harder I bite the more she pulls. Grasping at my neck, the back of my head, my hair, anything she can get her hands on. Her panting turns me on. She wants this as badly as I do. The need to dominate her, to control her, to give her vast amounts of pleasure kicks in to high gear. My thoughts begin to jumble as I try to focus on pleasing her before I can please myself. I fight the urge to just give in and let my instincts take over. We have nothing better to do than fuck until someone finds us or we escape this paranormal cage. I chose to focus in an effort to make it last.

              Suddenly, she’s pulling my shirt over my head, not bothering to undo the buttons. Sh
e’
s clawing at me, my clothing, as if she can’t get it off fast enough. It’s turned into a primal need for her as well. She stops briefly to take in the view appearing to focus on my arms and chest with a smirk she drops her gaze to my waist and starts to undo my belt, the button on my slacks, then the zipper. I’m in awe of how quickly she switches between the aggressor and the submissive. I allow her to take this where she wants to go before I regain control. If she wants to strip me of my clothing on her terms, I’ll allow that. Once the clothing is out of the way, all bets are off. She hooks her fingers in the sides of my pants, catching the waist of my boxer briefs as well, but instead of shoving them down, she looks at me, still on her knees, she commands with one word, “stand.
”
I oblige. As soon as I’m on my feet my pants are at my ankles and she’s on her knees face to face with my raging hard-on.

              Fuck me. Let her have her way with me. If she wants my cock in her mouth, who am I to complain. I lean back against the wall, bracing myself on the rail, spreading my feet to allow her unobstructed access to the prize, and yes, it’s a fucking prize. A solid eight inches hard and impressive girth. It’s stout. Glancing down at her, she looks up at the same moment with a subservient look on her face as if she were anxious to please her master. It’s beautiful and painfully hot at the same time. She licks her lips before returning her attention to my dick. I stare down at her still wearing her skirt, but topless, and those perfect breasts are every man’s wet dream come to life.

              When she opens her mouth, I close my eyes and lean my head back. My dick is engulfed in the warm, wetness of her mouth. She takes me in, all the way to the base, swirling her tongue around my shaft as she draws me back out, tracing the head with the tip of her tongue, before releasing me completely. When my cock pops up, she takes it in one hand, my balls in the other, slowly stroking my length as she administers flicks of her tongue to my sack. Dragging her tongue up the center, as if she’s tracing the crease, she tilts her head to the side before drawing my engorged nuts into her mouth. Her tongue working in a magical way while her other hand never skips a beat. When she releases me from her mouth she begins to work my length using her tongue and hand simultaneously, the pace at which she lavishes attention on me is agonizingly slow as she alternates between licking and sucking, allowing me to hit the back of her throat with my head. She’s enjoying teasing me, testing my patience, but my resolve is wearing thin. I need to be buried in her pussy, not her mouth.

              My hand on her face gets her attention. She rewards me with a shy smile as I offer her my hand, encouraging her to stand. She takes it, rising slowly in front of me, apparently unsure of herself. Catching her mouth with mine. I pull her to me, kissing her as I slide the zipper down the back of her skirt. With nothing left to hold it in place, it puddles on the floor of the elevator. My hands on her hip bones, I encourage her to take a step back, I want to take in all that is before me with an unobstructed view, and fuck me if she doesn’t have on a tiny-ass thong to match that killer bra. Her body is perfection: perfectly toned, perfectly groomed, and I motion for her to twirl for me. I see the epitome of perfection that is her ass. She looks to me for approval. Instead of giving her words, I pull her back to me, push her panties down so they can join the skirt on the floor, and pull her leg around my waist.