conversation.
But it was no use. Her body was already overly stimulated and now it was primed and ready for his touch.
It took less than a minute of his intimate massage for another climax to coil and release inside her. She bit down hard on his shoulder to keep herself from choking out the pleasure that pulsed through her.
“Forty-seven seconds,” he drawled, stroking her pussy as the lingering spasms died away.
“Arrogant bastard,” she replied without any heat. “That one was fake too.”
He actually laughed—a low, throaty sound she almost never heard from him.
She experienced a flush of pleasure at the sound.
He was so hard to figure out. And she had no idea how he felt about her.
She knew he loved to fuck her—she had ample proof of that—but that might be because she was the only available, willing female in his present circumstances. They 58
Hold
fucked a lot, sometimes three or four times a day. But they didn’t have much else to do, and at least it was an enjoyable way to pass the time.
She knew he tolerated her pretty well. She did her best to make herself accommodating—even when he was silent and bad-tempered. She tried to be helpful and interesting, and did her best to be a good companion.
But she didn’t know if he actually liked her. If he had feelings for her beyond lust and easy tolerance.
And she wanted Cain to like her. Desperately.
So much she thrilled at every small sign that he might.
She supposed it wasn’t entirely healthy. She’d latched onto him with unnatural neediness, since there was absolutely no one else to bond with in the hell where she was living. Under normal circumstances, she might not have even liked him. Much less developed so strong an attachment to this rough, silent loner.
But she spent a good portion of her endless days brooding about Cain, wondering what made him tick, dissecting every comment he made to her and hoping she was growing on him too.
Sometimes she daydreamed about escaping the prison. And in those daydreams she and Cain always left together.
And they stayed together even after they were freed.
Other times she had nightmares about a freak accident occurring and Cain getting killed. Her horror in those imaginings wasn’t just about what would happen to her. It was also about losing Cain.
Most of the time, she tried not to think about either of those things. She tried to just live in the moment, since anything else was almost unbearable.
At the moment, she wanted to roll over and snuggle with Cain. She wanted him to put his arms around her and hold her close. She didn’t make a move though. The last 59
Zannie Adams
thing she wanted to do was make Cain feel uncomfortable about anything connected to sex.
Sex was all she had. And it was the only thing keeping her safe.
* * * * *
When the lights came back on in the Hold, Cain rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom—just as he always did. She stayed under the covers. Other prisoners often strolled by Cain’s cell first thing in the morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of her cleaning up or getting dressed. Because of this, she always waited until the early meal, when Cain left to get them food, to clean up as best she could.
There was only so clean she could get here but she did what she could—grateful she at least had use of a sink.
She washed out her clothes as often as possible, although she had to be careful since they were already getting threadbare and stained. Despite her attempts to stay clean, she knew she must smell a lot of the time. But after the first week she’d stopped letting that bother her.
Her own senses had grown accustomed to the smell of the Hold. So much so that she hardly noticed it anymore, unless she got close to a particularly reeking man. Cain had a distinct smell. One she actually liked now, since it had grown so familiar to her.
She kind of hoped he felt the same way about how she smelled. They had sex so often she sometimes wondered if most of
But it was no use. Her body was already overly stimulated and now it was primed and ready for his touch.
It took less than a minute of his intimate massage for another climax to coil and release inside her. She bit down hard on his shoulder to keep herself from choking out the pleasure that pulsed through her.
“Forty-seven seconds,” he drawled, stroking her pussy as the lingering spasms died away.
“Arrogant bastard,” she replied without any heat. “That one was fake too.”
He actually laughed—a low, throaty sound she almost never heard from him.
She experienced a flush of pleasure at the sound.
He was so hard to figure out. And she had no idea how he felt about her.
She knew he loved to fuck her—she had ample proof of that—but that might be because she was the only available, willing female in his present circumstances. They 58
Hold
fucked a lot, sometimes three or four times a day. But they didn’t have much else to do, and at least it was an enjoyable way to pass the time.
She knew he tolerated her pretty well. She did her best to make herself accommodating—even when he was silent and bad-tempered. She tried to be helpful and interesting, and did her best to be a good companion.
But she didn’t know if he actually liked her. If he had feelings for her beyond lust and easy tolerance.
And she wanted Cain to like her. Desperately.
So much she thrilled at every small sign that he might.
She supposed it wasn’t entirely healthy. She’d latched onto him with unnatural neediness, since there was absolutely no one else to bond with in the hell where she was living. Under normal circumstances, she might not have even liked him. Much less developed so strong an attachment to this rough, silent loner.
But she spent a good portion of her endless days brooding about Cain, wondering what made him tick, dissecting every comment he made to her and hoping she was growing on him too.
Sometimes she daydreamed about escaping the prison. And in those daydreams she and Cain always left together.
And they stayed together even after they were freed.
Other times she had nightmares about a freak accident occurring and Cain getting killed. Her horror in those imaginings wasn’t just about what would happen to her. It was also about losing Cain.
Most of the time, she tried not to think about either of those things. She tried to just live in the moment, since anything else was almost unbearable.
At the moment, she wanted to roll over and snuggle with Cain. She wanted him to put his arms around her and hold her close. She didn’t make a move though. The last 59
Zannie Adams
thing she wanted to do was make Cain feel uncomfortable about anything connected to sex.
Sex was all she had. And it was the only thing keeping her safe.
* * * * *
When the lights came back on in the Hold, Cain rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom—just as he always did. She stayed under the covers. Other prisoners often strolled by Cain’s cell first thing in the morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of her cleaning up or getting dressed. Because of this, she always waited until the early meal, when Cain left to get them food, to clean up as best she could.
There was only so clean she could get here but she did what she could—grateful she at least had use of a sink.
She washed out her clothes as often as possible, although she had to be careful since they were already getting threadbare and stained. Despite her attempts to stay clean, she knew she must smell a lot of the time. But after the first week she’d stopped letting that bother her.
Her own senses had grown accustomed to the smell of the Hold. So much so that she hardly noticed it anymore, unless she got close to a particularly reeking man. Cain had a distinct smell. One she actually liked now, since it had grown so familiar to her.
She kind of hoped he felt the same way about how she smelled. They had sex so often she sometimes wondered if most of
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