Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Diana

This guy has to be messing with me.

Yes, that’s the only explanation. I’m his prey and he’s trying to confuse me into complacency by denying that he’s been ravaging the village of its resources. And pretending not to know about sex. I mean, come on. That gigantic thing between his legs was hard for a reason, right? It knows its purpose.

I have to be at least seven feet off the ground right now, dangling as I am over Ike’s—if that is his real name—shoulder. I have no idea where we’re headed or how I’d make it back to Piccadily if I got free. Which is further proof that he’s the monster in question. He doesn’t want me to see where we’re going.

I’ve got your number, buddy.

Ike is just like everyone else (although a whole lot bigger). People live behind smokescreens of kindness and honesty, but as soon as the going gets tough, the smoke clears and reveals the real monster lurking beneath. The fact that Ike is seven feet tall and built like an ox will be a helpful, constant reminder not to trust him.

No, sir. No Stockholm Syndrome for this gal.

The moonlight on the ground vanishes, replaced by flickering lights, and the sound of Ike’s footsteps changes. We’re inside something. A cave?

“Where are we?”

“Home.” His tone drops several octaves. “This is where you will sleep and be fed. By my hand.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

His intense expression when he sets me down says it will, although that intensity gives way to something else. Nerves. He’s scratching at the back of his neck, as if apprehensive to show me where he lives. But that can’t be, right? Do big, scary beasts who require sacrifices get nervous about showing a girl their digs?

No. My brain is playing tricks on me, thanks to my trying evening. It’s not every day a girl gets hogtied and left for dead.

With his peaceful, honey colored eyes and full mouth, he might not be quite as monsterish as I expected, however. In the candlelight, he is almost…beautiful. In a rugged, brutal, caveman way. The harsh planes of his face are covered in a few days’ worth of beard growth, his teeth straight and white. His hands could crush me.

Focus on that. Not his pretty eyes and yoked body.

“So…now that you’ve taken me, what are your plans?”

His tongue travels along the seam of his lips, his gaze tracking down the front of my dress. “I don’t know. My videotapes haven’t taught me much about women. Unless…are you a movie star or perhaps a loveable girl next door?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” More neck scratching. “Come. I will show you where we’ll sleep.”

“Together?”

“I have only one bed, Diana. And it gets cold at night. You will be grateful for my warmth.” He rubs a hand over his erection. “And I yours.”

In total contrast to the hunger in his eyes, Ike’s hand on my lower back is respectful and gentle as he guides me farther into the cave. I’m brought up short when I find it looks pretty homey. There is a fire flickering off to the right inside a chiseled stone hearth, a woven chair situated in front. A seriously ancient, battery-operated television/VHS player combo sits perched on the mantle beside a stack of tapes. There is an opening above to allow moonlight inside and it falls on a gigantic, soft-looking pallet that appears to be layers and layers of bedding and pillows. Bathed in the moon’s light and slightly mussed, I can’t help but admit it looks rather inviting. A place to sink in, doze off and forget the outside world.

“Farther back is where I prepare food. Game and supplies are kept in another cave nearby.” His breath warms the top of my head, his oversized hands settling on my hips from behind. “I can show you another time.”

“What about right now?” I say in a rush. “I love supply caves.”

“Another time, tiny person. I’m enjoying having you in my home too much.” Through the material of my dress, one of his fingers tucks into the indent of my belly button and I squeal-giggle, jumping away from Ike and turning to face him. “Hey! That tickles!”

He looks startled. “What does? This?”

His finger boops me in the belly button again and while I bat his hand away, another involuntary laugh escapes me. “Stop!”

“You are laughing,” he breathes. “I like that sound very much.”

“Well don’t get used to it. I’m a kidnapping victim. We tend to be grumpy.”

His mouth turns down at the corners. “What other sounds can you make?”

I push against his hard chest, but he merely looks confused over my efforts to throw him off balance. “I’m not a toy, Ike. I’m a girl.”

“I know full well you are a girl, Diana,” he rumbles, setting off a feathery reaction in my tummy. Like…anticipation. Or excitement? “It is just that….”

Don’t ask. “What?”

“I would like to know the sound you make when you feel pleasure.” His huge chest starts to heave, making his corded abdomen even more impressive. “I would like to know how…I can make you make that sound.”

“Pizza,” I blurt, backing away from him. “Will moan for pizza.”

“Moan?” he rasps, following me. “Yes. That’s what I want to hear.”

My back hits the cave wall. “Ike…”

He stops in front of me and I have to tilt my head all the way back to maintain our eye contact. “Diana.”

“Yes?”

His hands plant on the cave wall beside my head. “My body wants something from yours, but I don’t…I’ve never had a woman. I’ve been alone here for a long time. I need you to explain this fever I have to lay you down and…”

“And…?”

“That’s where I’m getting stuck.”

“Interesting choice of words.” With a heavy swallow, I glance down. “I’m pretty sure that’s what would happen.”

His eyebrows draw together and I realize there’s no way he’s faking his lack of knowledge about women. If he knew how to have sex, he would have taken me already. So…I can use this to my advantage, right? There is no way in hell our bodies are going to fit together with any kind of comfort. But I’m also not naïve enough to think he’ll be happy much longer without some kind of physical pleasure (hello fire log). I just have to find a happy medium. Yes. A couple little white lies and my virginity remains intact, along with my bone structure.

“Do you know about kissing, Ike?”

“Yes. Ginger kissed the professor many times.”

“Are you…making a Gilligan’s Island reference?”

His mouth lifts into a lopsided-smile and I forget to breathe for a few seconds. No one mentioned the beast’s smile. It’s having a very strange effect on me, kind of like I want to giggle or play with my hair like I’ve seen some village girls do.

“You know Gilligan’s Island, Diana?”

“Of course. I used to watch the reruns when I was younger.”

“Reruns,” he repeats, testing out the word. “Is that what you call video tapes?”

“Sort of…” I hedge, my heart pitching. Ike must have been so lonely out here by hims—nope. That’s the Stockholm Syndrome kicking in. Ignore it. “Back to kissing, Ike. That’s what you’re looking for.”

There’s a low rumble in his chest. “I do want very much to kiss your pretty mouth, tiny person. But kissing does not involve my cock and that’s where I’m experiencing most of the trouble.”

I choke on his casual use of the word “cock.” “W-well, you have to rub that…thing…of course. You have to rub it while we kiss.”

His breathing has turned heavy during my untruthful explanation, sweat breaking out at his hairline. “Rub it where?”

“With your hand!”

“No.” He shakes his head, sending his long hair in ripples around his massive shoulders. “No, I’ve had enough of my own hand.” He reaches down and gathers the hem of my dress in his hands, yanking it up. “I need a different kind of rubbing. A new kind. Now.”

In a panic, I smack him. Right in the face. It doesn’t even cause a flinch, but he stops trying to pull up my dress and regards me with flared nostrils, dilated pupils and anxious, shuddering breaths.

“You can’t just—” I break off with a sob. “You can’t just take what you want. I have to offer myself. Otherwise you’re hurting me, Ike.”

He drops my dress and steps back, his expression rife with horror. “No. No, I wouldn’t. My instinct is telling me this rubbing would make you moan, too.”

Would it?

That possibility floats like a beautiful white balloon through my mind, before I pop it with determination. This man had the chance to let me go and he refused. He’s taken me to his cave against my will. This whole situation is fodder for the Investigation Discovery channel. My body is having these odd reactions to Ike because I’m exhausted and confused and…I like muscles. Sue me.

“What?” I scoff, searching for a way to put him off, so I can keep my self-respect. “That’s crazy. Um. Women don’t…moan. Or feel pleasure. Only men do that sort of thing.”

“That’s terrible.” Lord, he looks depressed. Almost enough to make me crack and admit I lied. Almost. “Have I lost my chance to kiss you, Diana?” Ike asks quietly, the crackling firelight outlining his impossibly large frame.

Dammit. Why can’t he just be an ogre, so it would be easy to hate him and plot my escape? The fact that he isn’t just throwing me down and ravaging me—when he has more than enough strength and opportunity to do so—keeps messing with his murderous beast image.

“No, you haven’t lost your chance,” I whisper, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. “But…” I lift my chin. “Only one kiss. And you can’t try to lift my dress.”

“I won’t. I don’t like it when you’re upset.” He presses the heel of his hand to his naked stomach. “It hurts me here.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling winded, unable to take my eyes off him and his troubled expression. “W-where should we have our kiss? Should I stand on something so I can reach you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he says slowly, gruffly, while closing the distance between us. And wow, okay, he’s really starting to look way less beastly and a lot more like a rugged Viking warrior. I can only whimper as he stoops down and takes a deep inhale in the crook of my neck, his arm slinging beneath my butt. He lifts me like I weigh nothing and my stomach flies up to the ceiling as soon as I’m even with his mouth, my breasts flattened against his chest. Oh no. This is happening and I think I kind of…yes, I want it to happen, despite him being my kidnapper. “I’m sorry I upset you, Diana,” he murmurs at my lips. “It’s very hard to control this way you make me feel.”

“I accept your apology,” I sigh, reaching up to toy with his hair.

Way to stay strong, girl.

He moans under my ministrations, his head tipping back and putting the strong column of his throat on display. “Ohhhh. That feels so good.”

There’s a hot twist between my legs that makes me gasp. Danger. I’m headed toward the danger zone and I need to get this kiss over with before I do something stupid and shortsighted. Like telling this giant what sex really entails so we can start practicing. “Kiss me, Ike.”

Before my eyes close, I glimpse his reverent expression. But close they do, because as soon as his mouth latches on to mine, I lose touch with reality. It’s quite appropriate that I’m not touching the ground, because suddenly I’m floating. Ike breathes into my mouth, and although I’ve never kissed a man, my tongue seeks his automatically, stroking over it, drawing a male groan from his chest. His head tilts right and mine goes left, like we planned it, and he boosts me higher, so for a fleeting few seconds, I’m kissing him from above, before we’re level again and he’s devouring me with harsh grunts, his tongue licking in and out of me, his teeth catching my lips, tugging, his snarls echoing in the cave.

He keeps one hand beneath my backside, but the other buries in my hair and pulls my head back, his open mouth racing down my throat and back up to attack my mouth. I’m there to receive him enthusiastically, whimpering when his tongue enters my mouth again and collides with mine. Mates with it in a slippery, messy way that turns my sex wet, pliant. So much so that I wrap my thighs around his hips and tug on his hair, whining in my throat for a harder kiss. More contact. More—

Ike breaks the kiss with a roar and I regard his pained expression for several beats in fascination before I realize what’s happening. He’s…ejaculating, his mammoth body shuddering, incoherent ramblings falling from his lips. Our kiss was enough to give him relief and oh Lord, when I look down at his loincloth and see it has been reduced to a dripping wet sack that leaks fluid from all sides, I can’t stave off the wave of feminine satisfaction that rolls through me.

Damn right my kisses are better than sex.

Holding me in his arms, Ike stumbles toward the pallet and lays me down oh-so-gently, like I’m the baby Jesus or something. He turns away and removes his loincloth, letting it fall to the cave floor with a squelch sound and giving me an unobstructed view of the thickest, meatiest, most spectacular butt in history.

As far as I know.

My nipples pebble at the sight and the dress I’m wearing is suddenly far too confining. I yank at the bodice, but I can’t seem to breathe correctly. Am I a butt girl?

I don’t have a chance to delve too deeply into the possibility because Ike puts out the fire with a bucket of sand, draping the cave in darkness. The pallet shifts as he climbs in beside me, pulls me into his warm, hard body and nuzzles my forehead.

“You were right about the kissing,” he yawns into my neck. “It’s a shame women cannot feel pleasure, Diana. I would give it to you constantly. I would think of nothing else but kissing and licking and rubbing—”

“I get the picture,” I croak, my panties growing damper by the second.

“Good night, tiny person.”

“Good night, fire log.”

I don’t fall asleep for a very long time.