Be Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Four

Her touch was almost more than he could bear.

Five long years he’d spent imagining what it would be like to have a woman’s hand on his body. Years spent closing his eyes, lying back on his bunk and stroking himself when he could bear the loneliness no longer.

Five years of hatred and waiting, lifting weights in the yard and plotting his escape.

Five years knowing everything he’d worked so hard for could be stolen at any moment.

It overwhelmed him.

He suddenly thrust against her hand powerfully. She gasped. Skittish as all hell, and afraid, too. He knew he should care, knew he shouldn’t take her, but he’d be damned if he’d stop now. Taking care of men like him was her job. She might say she wasn’t that kind of masseuse, but he knew better. Williams wasn’t the kind of man who would go for a straight massage. Her nimble fingers slid up and down his cock, cupping and squeezing him in a way that made him want to explode on the spot. Back and forth across his flesh, skin tightening with every motion.

He shifted, and trying not to imagine what it would feel like to push her back, thrust his knee between her legs, and fuck her hard. She’s a whore, she expects it, his cock whispered greedily. Don’t push her too hard, his brain cautioned. She’ll break.

Her fingers came closer and closer to the head of his cock with every stroke. The little ridge of skin that defined it twitched as she edged toward it; then her fingers grazed his most sensitive spot.

“Not there,” he muttered, and she stilled. “If you touch me there I’ll come off like a rocket, and I want to enjoy this a little longer.”

She started moving again and he made himself focus on more than just the feel of her hot skin rubbing him. The smell of her hair, wet with just a trace of floral scent. Shampoo?

It was better than any perfume he’d imagined in the joint.

Her breasts formed taut peaks against his chest as if aroused, burning into him like hot pokers. He knew it was probably from the cold, but that didn’t matter to his hungry body. If only she were wet for him, too. His hand reached down automatically, he wanted to check. He felt her breath catch as she realized what he was doing and he stopped.

He wasn’t going to touch her there. If he touched her, he’d fuck her. He didn’t want her screaming and crying, didn’t want to hurt her.

So instead he forced his hand back, took a deep breath and spoke.

“You can start moving again,” he said gruffly.

Her fingers flexed around his taut flesh and he grunted. The tension in his body leapt back to where it’d been just seconds before; he wasn’t going to last long. Her strong hand moved up and down, and without thinking he pushed against her. Her fingers tightened again, and she squeezed him. He thrust once more, and this time her fingers squeezed in time with his movements. They fell into a rhythm, him thrusting his hips and her fingers caressing him. The blood sped through his body, pounding in his ears, making his breathing grow harsh.

Tension curled inward in his body and he grew harder. His balls tightened, gathering for his release, and then he exploded in her hand. His seed blew out with explosive force and he grunted, thrusting into her hand as she pumped him dry. For one second darkness took over his vision, the sheer animal pleasure of his orgasm more than he could comprehend. He lay there, sucking air into his lungs and sweating, for what seemed like eternity. She stayed next to him, frozen, her hand still cupping his softening cock. For a moment he wondered if she was trying to harden him again, but then he realized the truth.

She was afraid to move her hand without permission.

“You can let go,” he grunted. She pulled away instantly, rolling as far away from him across the bed as she could.

Absently, he noted that the plane had leveled off.

“We can take a shower now,” he said, and he heard her breath catch.

“Together?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, you can go by yourself,” he said slowly. An image of her body, dripping with warm, wet water entered his head and he almost moaned aloud.

She’d only taken the edge off so far.

“Alone,” he replied. “But don’t take a long time. I might change my mind.”

“I’ll go fast,” she said, voice fervent. She rolled out of the bed, trying to take the sheet with her as a cover.

“Leave it,” he said shortly. Watching her was half the joy; he wasn’t going to give it up that easily.

She stood quickly and crossed her arms across her barely covered breasts. He wondered if she had any idea how sexy she looked. Her hair hung down around her shoulders in scraggly lines, and the little red thong she wore hardly covered a thing. Her hands and the lace-bound breasts they covered were more of a taunt than anything.

He felt himself stir once more as she moved quickly past the side of the bed to the small bathroom, lurching as she walked. The air was fairly smooth, especially considering what a storm raged outside, but he could still feel the motion of the plane around them. He heard the shower come on and imagined her in there. Her fingers were probably sticky with his seed. He’d be willing to bet she’d wash it off first, eager to remove any trace of his touch from her body. There were splashes of it on her belly as well, and he thought about her hands rubbing against the creamy flesh as she cleaned it off.

Did she have any idea how soft and smooth her skin was?

He was willing to bet she didn’t.

She probably took her flesh for granted, never thinking twice about what a treat it would be for a man like him. Of course, he wouldn’t have had any idea either before he went into the joint. Nobody could.

He rolled on to his back, crossing his hands behind his hand and looking up at the cabin ceiling. They were still over the States, but he doubted he had anything to worry about. Not in a plane like this. Trust Valzar to get appointed as a diplomat. What the hell were they thinking? That was certainly putting the fox in charge of the henhouse.

He heard the water shut off, and he smiled with bitter amusement.

She didn’t want him joining her.

A moment later the door opened and she came back into the room, a white towel clutched around her body.

“I thought you might like to shower next,” she said, sidling back into the room.

“You were afraid I’d come in there,” he said, watching her coolly. She probably thought holding the towel tight to her body provided cover. Instead it simply teased him with her curves.

His cock stirred to life.

“Although it’d be nice if you offered to wash me,” he said slowly. She froze, eyes cutting through him.

“Perhaps another time. I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for me already.”

She simply looked at him, eyes haunted.

He rolled out of the bed abruptly, coming to his feet in one smooth motion. She jumped back and he laughed.

“I’m just going to shower,” he said, looking at her pointedly. “Trust me, when I decide to fuck you, you’ll know it.”

She didn’t reply, and he laughed again. Her fear should have made him sick. Instead it simply awakened his hunter’s instinct. He considered making her fears come true but decided against it.

There would be plenty of time when they landed.

She watched in a daze as he stalked into the bathroom.

When he was gone she could hardly imagine he’d been there. He was too unreal, too scary. It reminded her of the one time she’d tried drugs during college. Intense, scary, almost unbelievable when it ended.

Only the pictures her friends had taken of her dancing wildly in a club were enough to convince her she’d really been that crazed girl.

Her gaze drifted across the room, coming to rest on the door. No point in trying to run. Even if they weren’t in the air, that outside cabin was filled with his friends. She wasn’t sure about Valzar, but she’d bet every last penny she had that Del wanted her dead, assuming he was on the plane. She had no way of knowing who might be out there. The cold reality of the situation was that as long as Sean wanted her, she was his.

It was the best way to stay alive.

She thought of the heroines in romance novels, fighting bravely to preserve their precious virginity.

Fuck that.

She’d do whatever it took to keep alive, including blowing every man on the plane.

The thought was so overwhelming that she sat down on the bed, letting the towel fall the floor. She really was prepared to do whatever it took to stay alive. It was as if a switch turned within her head. Suddenly she felt lighter, freer. The old inhibitions fell away as everything stood out with stark clarity in her mind.

Staying alive was all that mattered.

The shower stopped running as a burst of turbulence hit the plane He gave a muffled grunt from the bathroom, and she fell back on the bed, bemused. He was strong, the other men respected him. Even Valzar, their leader, listened to him. As long as she kept him happy, he would protect her. Eventually she’d find a way to escape. All she had to do was make him want her…

He came out of the bathroom. Mentally she poured herself a shot of vodka, drank it back and sat up.

“We didn’t exactly finish before, did we?” she asked, hoping her voice was sultry and sophisticated. He froze, eyes searching her face. A slow, curious smile came over his features.

“No, I guess we didn’t finish,” he said.

Sandra sat back, spreading her legs across the silk sheets. Her breasts thrust forward as she leaned back on her hands.

“I think we need to come to an understanding,” she said softly. “I don’t know what’s going on here and I don’t care. All I care about is me. If you take good care of me, I’ll take very good care of you.”

He didn’t react at first, and she flushed nervously. Would he notice? She hoped not. She wanted him to see her as a sophisticated woman of the world. If he took her offer at face value, he’d be less careful.

“I suppose we could do that,” he said slowly. “Although I think we should make things clear from the start. It sounds to me like you’re a professional?”

“Yes,” she said, hoping her smile wasn’t slipping. “You were right about that before. I’m a professional, and I don’t make it my business to pry into the personal affairs of the men I serve.”

“So why weren’t you more accommodating before?” he asked softly.

“Because you startled me,” she said, trying to look up at him through her eyelashes. “Even a professional can get spooked when her new client tries to kill her old client.”

His face grew thoughtful, and she bit the inside of her lip. She shouldn’t have reminded him that she knew about the murder. Big mistake.

“Enough about that,” she said quickly. Pushing herself forward, she stood and strolled slowly toward him.

“Why don’t you turn those lights down and come over here?” she asked softly. “I like to work with my hands, and you strike me as being very…tense.”

He watched her without moving, and she thought he’d seen through her for sure. Then he turned and walked across the room to the light switch, turning it off. A dim glow—emergency lights?—came from the corners of the room. Not bright enough to keep a person from sleeping, but enough that she could see the outline of his form as he came toward her.

Lord, he was big.

His bulk came from muscles, too. She realized with a start that if he really was a client of hers, she’d be thrilled. There was nothing she loved more than going to work on a body that was well put together. She could tell just from watching him move where his trouble spots would be… Tension in the shoulders, of course, and perhaps in the lower arms. His thighs. There would be tension there, too, although not the kind she could easily massage away. She backed slowly around the bed, beckoning him to follow her.

Instead, he crawled on to the silken sheets like some great predatory cat. She met him halfway across the bed with a smile. He reached for her, but she raised one hand and planted it in the middle of his chest.

“This is what I do best,” she said firmly. “Let me do my work and I’ll guarantee you won’t regret it.”

He hesitated before allowed her to roll him on to his belly.

She knelt beside him and closed her eyes, formulating her strategy. He was just like any other massage client, she reminded herself. The only difference was that this massage would be more sensual.

She knew how to do it.

She’d had dreams about giving a massage like this, private fantasies about taking one of her clients and changing his entire worldview in an hour. She couldn’t do such a thing, of course, even if she had a client she wanted to do it to. It wasn’t right; it wasn’t professional.

Professional ethics hadn’t been created for situations like this, however.

She stretched out her fingers and touched him.

His flesh was cooler than she’d expected and still slightly damp from the shower. She started at the back on his neck, slowly running her fingers down along the smooth line of his back, gaining a feel for how he was built. She’d underestimated just how muscular he was; thank goodness she wasn’t doing a deep tissue massage. It might kill her fingers to work with those muscles. After a few experimental strokes she allowed herself to move more aggressively. Not too hard yet, she was still warming him up, but hard enough that she could feel his strength.

In the darkness it was easy to imagine this was nothing more than a dream. It was easy to let her fingers wander, and before long, she noticed that she wasn’t following her regular routine. Rather than moving across his flesh systematically, seeking out every muscle group and testing it for tension, she found herself following his contours. She leaned over, breathing deeply of his scent. A tendril of desire whispered its way up across her spine.

She shook her head, denying it. She didn’t want him; it was the fantasy.

But as she moved down his back to his tight butt, she knew it was more than fantasy. He shifted restlessly as she massaged the globes of his ass, parting his legs ever so slightly. She thought about his scrotum down there, waiting for her touch, and without thinking she let her hand drift between his legs.

The skin there was smooth and soft. He moaned as her fingers danced across the tender skin. He lifted his hips slightly and she cupped the sac in her hand. His testicles, those same tight balls that had shot their seed over her just half an hour earlier, slid between her fingers. She played with them, and secretly acknowledged that she liked the power touching him made her feel.

That’s what it was, she realized suddenly. This new touching gave her power, a kind of control over her situation she hadn’t had before. Like millions of women before her, she could control a man using her body. It wasn’t something she would normally have considered a good thing, but now it was priceless.

That power could save her life.

His hips lifted ever so slightly, and she realized he was rubbing the smooth silk sheets with his penis. She removed her hand, and placed it firmly in the center of his back. She pushed him down, stilling his motion.

“All in good time,” she said quietly, then traced her tongue across the small of his back. She worked down the backs of his thighs, letting go of her massage technique and using feminine instinct to guide her touch. Here he was definitely tense. She could feel his arousal in every bit of skin, every wiry hair her fingers grazed. Massage wouldn’t help that. She started down again, moving toward the back of his knees. He seemed especially sensitive there. She kissed him once, twice, tracing the skin with her tongue, wiggling it back and forth to tickle him.

“No more of that,” he muttered after a moment. She considered ignoring him, but stopped herself.

Instinct might tell her to continue, but she wasn’t so sure of her hold on him that she felt it safe to disobey.

Better to do as he said. She took deep breaths for several moments, and then muttered, “All right.”

She started back down his legs until she reached his feet. Then she knelt at the end of the bed, taking them into her lap and rubbing first one and then the other between her strong fingers. He actually shuddered in pleasure, giving a mighty stretch. Once again she was reminded of a giant cat, something one might find in a jungle. Something that ate only that which it caught, killing without mercy. She shivered and dropped his feet.

“Why don’t you roll over now?” she said, trying to keep her voice strong. She wanted to whisper, she wanted to run away, but that wasn’t going to happen. She’d already dealt herself the hand she needed to win; now she just had to play it.

He did as she said, and in the dim light of the room she could see his erection jutting above his flat belly.

That monster was going to be in her body. As she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the imagery, he tilted his head up at her.

“Second thoughts?” he asked with a challenge in his voice.

“No,” she said, and to prove him wrong she started crawling up his body with one knee on either side of him. “I’m just getting started.”