Page 8 of Descent
Zach couldn’t win.
I pushed his name from my mind and focused on the positive. He might have the upper hand, but he couldn’t touch me. Not without my cooperation. I wished I could ignore his presence, or at the very least, the ruckus of his arrival, and find sanctuary again in sleep. I’d been drifting in and out all day…
Or was it night?
I’d lost track of even my best guess.
Blinking against the sudden brightness, I made out his form on the other side of the bars. He lifted an arm, tilting the bottle of water gripped in his hand toward me.
“You ready to negotiate?”
“You have nothing I want.” Sitting up, I crossed my arms.
“Maybe not, but I’ve got something you need.” He set the water bottle on the concrete floor, just out of reach—should I be stupid enough to attempt grabbing it through the bars while he stood there. “The water is yours if you get over here and open your pretty mouth. If you make me come hard enough, I’ll sweeten the deal with lunch today.”
My stomach grumbled painfully at the thought. I was beyond hungry, but what really worried me was the signs of dehydration I could no longer ignore.
Pounding headache.
Dizziness.
Dry mouth.
It was a sweltering sauna in the cellar, but I wasn’t sweating nearly as badly as the last time he’d visited me…hours ago? Yesterday? Reality was a disorienting swirl around my head, making the dizziness worse.
Another bad sign.
I draped a protective arm over my belly, knowing I couldn’t hold out any longer. Fighting tears, I glanced at Zach’s smug face. “Please, Zach. Don’t make me do this. I’m begging you.” I crawled off the bed and stood on my knees. “If you care about me at all, don’t make me do this.”
His gaze was an illicit caress on my skin as he rubbed a hand over the bulge in his jeans. “Begging turns me on.”
Clenching my jaw, I hopped to my feet, willing myself not to glance at the bottle of water. He’d only set it there to taunt me.
To fucking tempt me.
He might not be able to get his hands on me inside this prison, but I was still at his non-existent mercy. Because he had me. We both knew it. There would be no imminent rescue. No one was left to find me—he’d made sure to eliminate his competition. Concession was the only way to survive. If I didn’t have my baby to think about, I might be able to hold out longer.
Zach had leverage, and he didn’t even know it.
Swallowing my pride and my fear, I stepped within his reach for the first time since locking myself inside the prison. “I-I’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“I’ll suck you off.”
His grin practically split his face. “I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”
He hadn’t left me with much choice, but I didn’t bother pointing that out to him. Unconcerned with my lack of enthusiasm, he closed the last foot between us and thrust out his pelvis.
“Unzip me.”
A tremor shook through my arm as I reached between the bars for the button of his jeans. I’d barely touched him before he grabbed me by the hair. I gasped, panic gripping me, and met the glare of his hazel eyes.
“Get on your fucking knees where you belong.”
Inch by inch, I went down, his fist in my locks guiding me to my surrender. A gazillion seconds seemed to pass as I slid his button free. I stalled even longer on the zipper, feeling the press of his huge erection against my arm. He let out a warning growl, prompting me to yank his zipper down.
“Open,” he rasped, fisting the root of his cock, aiming the tip at my mouth. He pulled me forward, the cool bars pressing against my cheeks, and pushed between my lips. My first instinct was to shove him away, to close my throat to keep him from going too deep, but when he tightened his fingers in my hair and let out another growl, it took everything in me to stand my ground and allow him to use me.
“Jesus, Lex,” he groaned, shoving his dick into my throat, each thrust more violent than the last. My tongue felt like a slug of sandpaper in my mouth, but Zach didn’t seem bothered by it. His pleasure leaked all over my tongue, causing the friction he wanted with every slide that brought him deeper. Gripping the bars to steady me, I began to gag.
“Damn,” he panted. “Good girl. Take it all.” He seated himself so deep that my tongue flattened against his nut sack. “Touch your cunt. You’re coming too, baby.”
Pushing against the bars for leverage, I whined a muffled protest.
He responded by tightening his grip in my hair. “If you want that water bottle, you’re gonna fucking come for me.” An insistent yank on my curls sent my fingers dipping between my legs. I’d do anything to end this hell as fast as possible. As I circled my clit with my middle finger, Zach shallowed his thrusts, slowed the pace.
