Captured in Croatia (10 page)

His other hand snakes beneath the raised t
-shirt and slowly massages my breasts, adding to the delicious torment.

I
shriek, “Zoran! Please stop! God, you … you, ugh!” I buck hard, trying to thwart him, and get nowhere.

He
’s only a breath away from my parted lips as he murmurs to me like a sexy lover, “Tell me what I want to know and I will,
princeza
. I’ll make the need stop and I’ll replace it with your most intense fantasy. Isn’t that what you want most, baby?”

I nearly wail from the
thought of giving in as I thrash harder beneath him, frantic to ease the torrent of need. I get nowhere.
God, what does he weigh, two-fifty?

“I
 … I can’t tell you! Please, please, I’m begging you! Stop!”

“You can tell me
,
princeza
. I’ll keep your secret. You don’t want me to play rough. I don’t think you would last long, sweetheart.”

I
freeze at his brutal words, going still beneath him. I remain as silent as possible due to the intense throbbing that courses hotly through my breasts and pussy. I sob and shudder but say nothing. Who knew the sensitivity of those nerves? If he doesn’t stop soon, it will take a miracle not to pull him down and make him finish what he’s started.

I do my best to calm my voice
. “No.”

With a
frustrated grunt, he releases me in both places. I gasp in relief and watch as he pushes up on both of his tremendous arms. He moves into a kneeling position at the edge of the table and grabs the hem of my safety blanket of a shirt. After pulling it over my head, he flings it carelessly to the floor. I struggle to cover my exposed breasts. Again he descends on me in a smooth, swooping dip.

Nuzzling against my left ear he rumbles, “Come on
,
princeza
. Tell me what I need to know. I don’t want to have to hurt you. You’re far too delicate for that, baby.”

The combination of his words and voice hypnoti
ze me. The reactions he brings out of me makes time stand still. His full, pink lips come into view as he shifts his head. They press against mine and flood my brain with pleasure. The kiss he bestows on me is both passionate and romantic. His mouth is hot perfection as it moves against mine with practiced ease. He’s controlling the kiss. Controlling me. He’s masterful by nature, and I can’t resist him, if only in this moment.

He
’s hungry for me as his tongue probes then presses in. I brush both arms up against his wide back, affected in spite of myself by the feel of his powerful torso resting beneath his dark cotton t-shirt.

A deep groan
rumbles in his throat. He’s coming undone. It is becoming obvious that his attraction to me is at least as powerful as mine is to him, if not more so.

C
ould I use this to my advantage?

The
fleeting thought vanishes as his hips grind slowly against my bare mound. It feels as if a wide steel bar is pressing against my upper thigh. He’s huge. A new gush of wetness floods my sex as I moan softly into his mouth.
What’s happening to cause me to fall so hard for his touch?

A primal part of my brain begins to
wonder if he will force me to have sex with him right here on this table in his workout room. Would I even care at this point? He’s in my bloodstream.

This is dangerous
, Carew
. This sort of sexual interrogation is far worse than any pain he could inflict on me tonight.

Reluctantly I tear my mouth fr
om his and stare up into his sultry eyes. I whisper, “Don’t do this to me.”

He
hesitates for a moment and then shifts, pushing silently off the table. I snap my legs together, ashamed that he has seen how much he affects me.
Hell, at this point he can most likely scent it on me like an animal in heat.

I
sit up and think about jumping off the table to make a run for the stairs, but the thought of possible consequences holds me frozen in place. I remain watchful, wary of his next move.

He
moves toward a weight bench and pauses, whipping off his black t-shirt in a lightning fast motion. My mouth falls open. Tattooed on his back is a tiger. A
magnificent
tiger. A giant Bengal tiger with wicked black, orange-gold, and white stripes. Both its claws and fangs are bared. The head is turned in a full profile view at his right shoulder and his tail skirts around to the left of his torso, just above his hip. He is raw power, personified.

It
is nearly as gorgeous as the lush jungle backdrop displayed on his skin. It’s both dense and botanical in nature. Vivid green leaves and white lotus flowers. His entire back is covered, all the way down to the base of his spine, ending just above his low-slung beltline.

I know zip about tattoos
, but as an avid art lover, I recognize quality when I see it. It must have taken hundreds of hours to create this tattoo. Not to mention the depth of pain its creation must have inflicted on Zoran.

It becomes brilliantly clear to me that there is nothing this man
doesn’t already know about pain. I bet that he’s seen several lifetimes of it, judging from his hardened expression and the scars on his chest.

When he
stalks back toward me, I decide to simply go for it.

“
Your tattoo is stunning,” I whisper as he moves closer, doing my best to cover my shaking frame with my arms and long hair.

“It pleases me that you like it
,
princeza
.”

Talk
to him. Stall him. Make him like you so he won’t hurt you down in this lonely basement ….

“How long have you had it?”

As he stands before me, I can clearly make out the three grisly gunshot wounds. One skirts his right ribcage and two hit him in the shoulder above the heart. This man should be dead.

“A
while.”

He
leans into the table and wraps his palms around my upper thighs. I gasp as I’m lifted up against him, my exposed bare mound pressed directly against his muscled stomach. I’m forced to throw my arms around his neck to keep from falling back.

His hands slide under my ass as he lifts me from the table
and walks to the opposite side of the room.

I’m going to have to make a move soon. If I can just land something
, a kick perhaps, then I can go for his keys. Surely I can make it to the vehicle before those dogs come after me, right? What other choice do I have?

My back bumps
up against a suspended boxing bag.
I bet the thing sways at an angle when he goes hard at the heavy device.
Hot lips begin to trail down and across my neck as his right hand sweeps up from my thigh, across my stomach and lands against my breast.

He firmly palms the underside
as he moans, “
Tako lijepa
.”
So pretty.

I’m on my last reserves of control
. His touch is mind-bending. This has to be stopped before things go any further. He continues with the barrage of sensual kisses, covering my neck. I’m so ramped up that my core is drenching his ripped stomach. He must know. How completely embarrassing!

He leans back
, eyes glazed with lust, to demand, “Tell me what I want to know. Before things get ugly. You don’t want that,
princeza
.”

My answer is physical
rather than verbal. I rear back as far as the red leather bag behind me will allow, and with all my force tightly consolidated, I slam my forehead into his face.

“
U picku materinu!”
Son of a bitch!
He bellows with rage at the unexpected strike. Instantly I’m dropped down to the padded mats.

It must have been a good knock
to the face because I’m seeing stars once I hit the ground. I catch a flash of him slightly bent and clutching at his nose right before I scramble for the stairs.

Fast! Move
, move!
Adrenaline explodes in my brain as I fly up the steps.
There are only a couple left above me. If I can just get to that door, I can try and lock him down here!

A bone
-chilling roar fills the air. Suddenly, the stairs fall out from beneath me. My hair is grabbed and I’m flying backwards.

Smack!

“Agh!”

I
fall incredibly hard against the black sparring mats that cover the entire room. I struggle desperately to suck in air as I twist to scramble back up to my knees. He wastes zero time. He’s behind me, dragging me by the armpits toward the punching bag.

If I can just get t
o my feet, I might have a chance against this animal. My skills are solid and hopefully his nose is more injured than my wrist. I struggle hard against his hold, wrenching my shoulders back and forth as he once again hauls me up against the bag. I can’t bear to look in his face but I can feel his breath, which is ragged and irregular. He is snorting like a bull.

“Look at me!”
The power behind his voice is so strong I can feel it vibrate through me.

Surreal.
I’ve never heard him raise his voice until now. His need to control is chilling.

I turn away in defia
nce, and he grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to face him.

“You want to fight
,
princeza
?” His voice is low, angry and guttural, nearly unrecognizable.

“Fuck you
, you sick savage!” I lash out in a venomous hiss. I spit at him, and the wad lands on his right cheek. Good, my aim was true!

He growls
, “
Na oganj ulja ne ljevaj
.”
You shouldn’t add oil to the fire.

I gasp as he spins me around so fast that my bad arm fl
ies outward and wraps quickly around the wide bag in order to keep me from falling over sideways. Like an iron shackle, his hand encircles my good wrist and hauls it up to the chain holding the bag suspended from the wooden ceiling rafter. My chest presses tight against the bag.

“Grab it
.”

My entire head vibrates from the strength of his angry voice. I’m on tip
toes, but I grasp the cold chain that leads up to the mount on the ceiling. The heavy bag sways slightly with the trembling that’s coming from my body.

He step
s away. What is he up to? I turn back to look over my shoulder. He’s coming at me with a black length of boxing hand-wraps.
He’s planning on tying me to this bag? Oh shit!
I start to let go.

“No!”

He’s fast
, and I shudder as his hand squeezes hard against mine. The smooth, thick links are certainly imprinted in my right palm. Before I can fight, he begins wrapping the black cotton around my clenched hand and the chain over and over again, essentially tethering me to the weighty bag.

I’m terrified.

“Please, I’m sorry, Zoran. Please!”

His
huge body presses up against mine, sandwiching me between himself and the bag. I close my eyes and try to breathe in through my nose. I must calm down and think clearly ….

Oh my God, his c
ock is still rock hard!

It
presses against my back. It’s so huge that it feels like a weapon in itself.

H
e’s struggling for control as he says, “You’re not fucking sorry. Don’t you ever lie to me. But I promise you,
princeza
, you soon will be.”

I hate that he has control simply because I’m injured. I’m pissed and scared. I hate both feelings with a passion.
Is he going to rape me, tethered here to this instrument of aggression? Self-preservation takes over. I lift my knee and kick back high, swift and hard, doing my very best to hit him in the groin. He’s too tall, and I connect with what I think is the top of his knee. It must have hurt, because he grunts low and my heel burns with the pain of contact.

He snarls
, “You’re a fucking wildcat, woman! Okay, let’s play, baby.”

I
shake my hair away from my face and crane my neck to watch him. I’m breathing hard as he undoes the buckle on his wide, black leather belt.
Not good. So not good, Carew!
He whips it off his waist in a sure tug.

My mouth opens and I begin to pant.

He wraps the belt once around his powerful fist before saying in a cold, flat voice, “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll stop.”

Time suspends in a
long moment of horror. The belt flies back over his shoulder before it slices through the air with a clear
whoosh.
It lands impossibly hard on my exposed backside.

“
Aaigeeee!
” I scream. The pain is beyond comprehension. It’s vicious and all-consuming, instantly submerging me in its raw depths.