Captivated (Stranded) Read Online Free PDF

before she opened the book, but she nurtured a growing hope that he had found this book arousing and not just sensational. Because the thing nailed her kinks—every damn one of them from being blindfolded to fucking a stranger to getting tickled. It even had sleep denial, with the female captor keeping the hero awake by alternately licking, sucking, and biting his scrotum.
    Another hour on, she was so restless she could no longer hold her pen to take notes. Marking her place in the book, she rose from her chair and headed for the restroom.
    She didn’t bother going into a stall. Instead, she lay on the floor (it was clean, right? Evan kept it clean. God. ) and hiked up her skirt. Shoving her hands into her panties, she gasped at the first contact of her fingers, chilled by the cool air of the basement, against her hot, slick skin. Keeping her touch light but relentless, she circled her clit, stroked up through her pussy, and imagined Evan’s tongue doing all of it. She wished she had two more hands so she could brace them on her thighs and push them apart. Fuck, what she wouldn’t give to feel his hands doing that. She had to content herself with the image of the top of his head with its almost-curling hair, his nose mashing into her mound, his stubble scraping her inner thigh.
    She sighed loudly, then imagined him humming against her flesh in return, and she was too close to the edge to hold off any longer. She cried out, some unintelligible sound that would have been a curse if she’d been able to form a word.
    She lay staring at the tiled ceiling for a long time, her pulse ticking in her fingertips.
     
    *
     
    Near lunchtime, Evan made up a dish of dinner leftovers and carried it down to the break area, half hoping to meet Laine there (okay, more than half). He didn’t and had just put the bowl in the refrigerator when he pulled it back out and left the office before he could talk himself out of it.
    She wasn’t at her desk, but he could smell her orange-blossom scent as if she had just walked past him. His dick jumped, seeming to seek the scent along with his nose. The book lay open to a passage he remembered well, the one where the guy was forced to go down on the crazy queen holding him captive. He supposed that could happen, but Evan didn’t believe for a second that this guy had been forced to do anything, not the way he described his obvious relish at diving into her cunt. The whole thing reeked of an overblown letter to Penthouse , but a really long one, and a hot one, and one that had occupied Evan for two solid months when he found it.
    Setting Laine’s lunch on the desk, he stepped toward the shelves to see if she was there. “Hello?” he said softly, intimidated by the quiet of the space. No response, but he heard something else, a sound that yanked at his dick again, and he was helpless to do anything but follow it to the restroom door.
    He stood stock still for a moment, holding his breath, before he heard her voice, low and feminine. With his dick screaming at him, he put his ear to the door.
    She was panting, and when she wasn’t panting she was moaning, and then she was cursing (maybe; it got garbled) and he was dying to open the door to see exactly what made her make those sounds, punctuated by yes and yes and God yes . Then she let out a cry that might have been fuck or might have been fuck me , but the last thing she sighed was definitely please .
    He took the stairs two at a time, pushing through doors until he stood, chest heaving, in his closet. Shoving a box against the door with his boot, he yanked at his belt to free it from its buckle. Below it, his cock strained against his pants, and if he didn’t get them off soon, he’d have a stain he didn’t want to explain at dinner. A mindless jerk downward opened his zipper and then his pants and boxers lay around his ankles. Backing against the wall, he looked up at the collage.
    It wasn’t finished, but it was enough. He let his gaze go