“I’m so sorry,” she said, meaning it.
“Are you?” His expression hardened. “I told you, your father’s safe. If you want to see him again, then get inside the damn van before I throw you in there.”
She wanted to argue, to question him as to where he had her father, how his men had rescued him. A spurt of approaching gunfire changed her mind on that. Liz scooted over the rough carpeting to the side facing the weapons. Sleek and deadly, their metal parts gleamed in the scant light.
Once inside, Zeke shut the doors, locking them. The vehicle’s motor rumbled to life, its tires swishing over the drive, taking them from the mansion’s lights. Given the van’s small windows, the moon’s glow did little to alleviate the darkness within.
Not yet adjusted to the gloom, Liz could no longer clearly see Zeke. However, she remained all too aware of his presence. Heat radiated from his big body. His skin smelled of sex. She heard his quiet respirations and then his sharp intake of breath.
“What happened?” she blurted, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to see. Had he taken a bullet at the mansion that she hadn’t noticed? “Are you in pain?”
“Fuck yeah. Don’t you recall clawing me?”
He was whining about that when three bullets to his chest hadn’t gotten a rise out of him? Leaning back, Liz stated the obvious. “I wanted you to let me go.”
He breathed heavily again. “Not a chance.”
An internal alarm went off at the change in his voice. From a tone thick with aggravation to one laced with purpose and arousal. The van made a quick right. Liz dug her nails into the carpeting, then glanced at the moon spilling through the back windows, casting the interior in its silvery glow. When they stayed on this course and the light remained, she regarded Zeke.
He sat with one leg outstretched—his toes no more than an inch from her calf—his other leg bent at the knee, his forearm draped over it. He didn’t bother to cover his balls or cock that still glistened with come. He stared at her nudity, his expression unrepentant.
Liz’s nipples puckered, tightening to a point where they began to hurt.
As though Zeke approved of her response to his ruthless masculinity, he offered a smug smile.
Arrogant SOB. Resisting the urge to cover herself, Liz remained as she was. Her breasts quivered with each bounce of the van. Her parted legs revealed her cunt, damp with his ejaculate and her previous excitement.
He studied that part of her the longest.
She managed to speak without passion. “Where’s my father?”
Zeke perused her body at his leisure and with a right that said she now belonged to him.
“Safe.”
He sounded like Carreon, doling out cryptic answers that revealed nothing. Screw that shit. She wasn’t going to be put off that easily any longer. “Where, dammit?”
He ignored her.
She saw red—boiling, brutal red. Curling her fingers, Liz hurled herself at him, ready to draw blood.
“Oh no, you don’t.” He caught her wrists, using his hold to turn her around and trap her against him.
“Let go of me,” she snapped.
His grip tightened. Not enough to harm but to let her know he wasn’t about to give her what she wanted.
Liz rammed her back into his chest.
Muttering an oath, he wrapped her arms around her torso, confining her further. Liz slammed her heels into his shins. He didn’t budge. She dug her elbows into whatever part of him she could reach until she was breathless.
As she sucked in air, Zeke pressed his mouth to her ear. “Stop fighting me, or I’ll give you a fucking spanking you’ll never forget.”
“Not if I kick you in the balls first.”
He inhaled deeply, tempering his anger as he spoke. “Your father’s safe. No one’s going to hurt him. I give you my word on that.”
“Your word means nothing.”
“I’m not Carreon.”
“No, you’re worse.”
He released his breath in what sounded like a pissed sigh, then kissed her cheek.
Startled at his
“Are you?” His expression hardened. “I told you, your father’s safe. If you want to see him again, then get inside the damn van before I throw you in there.”
She wanted to argue, to question him as to where he had her father, how his men had rescued him. A spurt of approaching gunfire changed her mind on that. Liz scooted over the rough carpeting to the side facing the weapons. Sleek and deadly, their metal parts gleamed in the scant light.
Once inside, Zeke shut the doors, locking them. The vehicle’s motor rumbled to life, its tires swishing over the drive, taking them from the mansion’s lights. Given the van’s small windows, the moon’s glow did little to alleviate the darkness within.
Not yet adjusted to the gloom, Liz could no longer clearly see Zeke. However, she remained all too aware of his presence. Heat radiated from his big body. His skin smelled of sex. She heard his quiet respirations and then his sharp intake of breath.
“What happened?” she blurted, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to see. Had he taken a bullet at the mansion that she hadn’t noticed? “Are you in pain?”
“Fuck yeah. Don’t you recall clawing me?”
He was whining about that when three bullets to his chest hadn’t gotten a rise out of him? Leaning back, Liz stated the obvious. “I wanted you to let me go.”
He breathed heavily again. “Not a chance.”
An internal alarm went off at the change in his voice. From a tone thick with aggravation to one laced with purpose and arousal. The van made a quick right. Liz dug her nails into the carpeting, then glanced at the moon spilling through the back windows, casting the interior in its silvery glow. When they stayed on this course and the light remained, she regarded Zeke.
He sat with one leg outstretched—his toes no more than an inch from her calf—his other leg bent at the knee, his forearm draped over it. He didn’t bother to cover his balls or cock that still glistened with come. He stared at her nudity, his expression unrepentant.
Liz’s nipples puckered, tightening to a point where they began to hurt.
As though Zeke approved of her response to his ruthless masculinity, he offered a smug smile.
Arrogant SOB. Resisting the urge to cover herself, Liz remained as she was. Her breasts quivered with each bounce of the van. Her parted legs revealed her cunt, damp with his ejaculate and her previous excitement.
He studied that part of her the longest.
She managed to speak without passion. “Where’s my father?”
Zeke perused her body at his leisure and with a right that said she now belonged to him.
“Safe.”
He sounded like Carreon, doling out cryptic answers that revealed nothing. Screw that shit. She wasn’t going to be put off that easily any longer. “Where, dammit?”
He ignored her.
She saw red—boiling, brutal red. Curling her fingers, Liz hurled herself at him, ready to draw blood.
“Oh no, you don’t.” He caught her wrists, using his hold to turn her around and trap her against him.
“Let go of me,” she snapped.
His grip tightened. Not enough to harm but to let her know he wasn’t about to give her what she wanted.
Liz rammed her back into his chest.
Muttering an oath, he wrapped her arms around her torso, confining her further. Liz slammed her heels into his shins. He didn’t budge. She dug her elbows into whatever part of him she could reach until she was breathless.
As she sucked in air, Zeke pressed his mouth to her ear. “Stop fighting me, or I’ll give you a fucking spanking you’ll never forget.”
“Not if I kick you in the balls first.”
He inhaled deeply, tempering his anger as he spoke. “Your father’s safe. No one’s going to hurt him. I give you my word on that.”
“Your word means nothing.”
“I’m not Carreon.”
“No, you’re worse.”
He released his breath in what sounded like a pissed sigh, then kissed her cheek.
Startled at his
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