Page 56 of The Captive
I should leave. I should turn around and go back to my room before I did something I couldn't take back.
Instead, I perched slowly, quietly on the edge of the mattress. Alexander didn't stir, even as the mattress dipped slightly beneath my weight.
I studied him in the moonlight—the sharp jaw darkened with stubble, the full lower lip, the long lashes that cast shadows onhis cheeks. This close, I could smell him, all male, woodsy—a scent that made my pussy clench with remembered pleasure.
Like a moth to a flame…
I reached out, tracing the crescent scar on his wrist with a feather-light touch. He stirred slightly but didn't wake, his breathing remaining deep and even.
The sheet had slipped lower, revealing the defined muscles of his abdomen, the thin trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the fabric. I remembered how that body had felt pressed against mine, how those muscles had tensed and flexed as he drove into me, how that flat stomach had slapped against mine with each powerful thrust.
The heat that had been simmering in my veins all evening intensified, pooling low in my belly, turning my inner thighs slick with want. Madness. This was madness. Yet I couldn't stop myself from sliding the sheet lower, revealing more of him to my hungry gaze.
He slept naked. Of course he did.
His cock lay semi-hard against his thigh, impressive even in repose. I licked my lips, remembering the weight of him on my tongue, the taste of him, the way he'd groaned when I'd taken him deep, the way he'd filled my throat until I could barely breathe.
I shouldn't do this. It crossed a line, even for us. Connor O'Malley's daughter, taking pleasure from the enemy's body—it was the ultimate betrayal. But as I watched him sleep, vulnerable and beautiful, I couldn't reconcile this alluring man with one of the monsters who’d changed everything, forcing me prematurely into this life. The contradiction was tearing me apart.
Yet I found myself leaning closer, my breath ghosting over his skin as I whispered, "Alexander."
He didn't stir.
The rational part of my brain screamed at me to leave, to return to my room before I did something unforgivable. The rest of me—the part consumed by want, by need, by the confusing tangle of emotions I refused to name—had other ideas.
I traced my fingertips along his inner thigh, feeling the muscle tense reflexively beneath my touch. Still, he didn't wake.
"I can't stop thinking about you," I whispered, the confession easier in darkness, with his eyes closed and consciousness far away. "About the way you taste. The way you feel inside me. The way you stretch me open until I think I can't take anymore."
His cock twitched slightly, responding to my voice even in sleep. Emboldened, I wrapped my fingers around him, stroking with deliberate slowness as I continued to whisper.
"I've never wanted anyone the way I want you." The admission burned my throat, made my cunt throb with need. "It terrifies me. Makes me wet just thinking about you."
He hardened further in my hand, blood rushing to fill him as I continued my gentle ministrations. His breathing changed, growing slightly shallower, but his eyes remained closed.
I leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. "I'm going to take you in my mouth now," I murmured, voice pitched low and intimate. "I'm going to suck your cock until you come down my throat, and you won't even know it wasn't a dream."
A soft groan escaped him, but he didn't wake. Already half-hard from my hand, his cock responded eagerly to my words, thickening against my palm.
The robe fell open as I shifted on the bed, positioning myself between his legs with practiced care. My nipples tightened in the cool air, and between my thighs, I was embarrassingly wet, arousal slicking my inner thighs.
I lowered my head and took him into my mouth in one smooth motion, savouring the weight of him on my tongue, thevelvet hardness encased in soft skin. The taste of him flooded my senses as I worked him with deliberate slowness.
He was fully hard now, his cock thick and pulsing against my tongue, his body responding even as his mind remained in dreams. My cunt clenched around emptiness, desperately wanting what my mouth was enjoying.
I hollowed my cheeks, taking him deeper, one hand wrapped around the base while the other traced patterns on his inner thigh. His hips shifted slightly, seeking more, and I gave it to him—increasing suction, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head before taking him deep again.
"Aoife," he murmured, the word slurred with sleep, and for a moment I thought he'd awakened.
But his eyes remained closed, his breathing still heavy with slumber. He was dreaming of me, even as I pleasured him in reality.
The knowledge sent a jolt of pure heat through my core. I moaned softly around him, the vibration making his cock twitch against my tongue.
"I love the way you fill my mouth," I whispered, lifting my head briefly before taking him deep again. "Love how hard you get for me, even in your sleep. Love how I can taste your precum already."
His breathing grew more ragged, muscles tensing as pleasure built even in unconsciousness. A drop of precum leaked from the tip, salty and bitter on my tongue. I increased my pace, reading his body's signals with the same attention to detail I applied to everything.
"I want you to come in my mouth," I murmured, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head. "Want to swallow everything you give me. Want you to fuck my face even in your sleep."
