Striding to the guest bedroom, I bang open the door. Typically, I sleep upstairs in the master suite down the hall from Anna’s room. But I can’t be that close to her. So I’ve taken precautions, even if it’s something as dumb as being on a different floor from her.
But images of that curvy body keep running through my mind, like a tape on repeat. Standing in the center of the room, I seriously consider jerking off to relieve the excruciating pressure. Yeah, that’d do it, a hand job ending with a fistful of sticky cum, man milk dripping on the floor. But as I run my fingers up and down the front of my jeans, I know with certainty that nothing will compare to burying myself deep inside of the girl upstairs.
Dropping my clenched hands at my side, a ragged breath escapes me. Calming myself with controlled breaths, I decide to alleviate tension another way.
And a hundred pushups later, sweat begins to bead my brow as I move up and down on the wood floor. The exertion feels good and fatigue begins to claim my muscles. Grunting in the process, my energy is redirected into maintaining proper form along with speed and agility.
Another two hundred reps accumulate in no time. Frustration has been replaced with exhaustion, the girl driven into a corner of my mind. I’m ready for a shower, and when I stand, my previously engorged cock is only semi-hard. Fuck yeah, it worked. I stopped lusting after my prisoner, the girl who was gonna fuck up my family and steal our money.
She’s a slut, she’s a slut. Anna’s a slut. If I have to, I’ll repeat it like a mantra until I die.
I refuse to give in. I refuse to let my greedy dick dictate my actions.
She may have hypnotized Chance in a few hours’ time, but I won’t let her to put the same spell on me. One giddy, lameass brother in our family is more than enough.
And with my mind firmly made up, I strip, stretching out my massive form, before stepping under the hot spray. Fuck yeah, the beating of the water is exactly what I need, and a low roar of satisfaction escapes, a lion on the prowl.
But at that second, another image flashes into my mind. Her. Those red curls tumbling, that curvy body soaking wet and nude, under in the shower with me. Those gazongas rubbing against my chest. Nipples teasing me, tantalizing me, her wet slit running. And aww fuck, but my stiffie jumps up again, painful and aching. What the fuck has Anna done to me? Why the fuck is this happening? All I know is that my pretty prisoner has me chained … and not the other way around.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anna
There’s no telling what got into me back there, but I went with it. When Robert looked at me, there was something in those blue eyes, and it wasn’t pure hatred. Maybe fifty percent hatred and fifty percent …? Lust? Anger? Madness? I’m not sure, but my insides had gone warm and loose.
Stop it, came the voice in my head. Stop it, you’re a freakin’ prisoner! This guy literally tied you up and threw you into the trunk of his car! You can’t be lusting after this monster!
Okay, well maybe it was temporary insanity. Whatever you call it, it happened and I can’t take it back. It’s not like I really want to anyway. I’ve learned that dignity is the best defense, and I wasn’t gonna let him take me down. I wasn’t going to let the alpha male grind me into the dirt, begging for scraps. So the whole exchange had returned a piece of my confidence.
Besides, for some weird reason, I’m not afraid of Robert. Yes, he’d shoved me into a trunk and called me a whore only hours ago but it’s a screwed up case of mistaken identity. And I know the alpha male knows it at well. He couldn’t possibly think that me, Anna Jones, is some flirty whore, trying to entice rich guys. It’s just too ludicrous, and I know the dark man doesn’t think that, not deep down.
Plus, my grandma taught me to always trust the intuition I’ve been blessed with as a woman and it’s never steered me wrong. Right now, it’s telling me that Robert won’t hurt me. If that were the case, then I’d truly be afraid. I’d be scrabbling at the walls, screaming my head off. But instead, I’m knitting quietly in my room, waiting for him to come back.
Why are you so calm? questions the voice in my head. Start looking for tools! You have to plan an escape!
But the thing is, I’m not so sure that’s the best way forward. The cabin’s in the middle of nowhere. How would I survive after stepping off the property? What food do I have? What water? It’s not like I’m a survival expert, a secret MacGyver. So right now, staying put and tussling with my captor seems like the best thing to do.