Lincoln woke with the worst headache. Throbbing not unlike the time he'd been clobbered with a Billy club back in Fox River. Blinking his eyes, he tried to recall the last thing he remembered. He, Self, Mahone, Gretchen and T-bag had been tracking a lead on scylla. A warehouse near the pier. The buyer was supposed to be there; they would grab the device and be off. Then they'd return it to The Company and live their lives. Michael hadn't approved of the deal at all but considering he was still recovering from brain surgery he wouldn't be a problem.
The second they'd reached the dock Mahone had thought something wasn't right. But Mahone wasn't in charge, Lincoln was. And just like his too-smart-for-his-own-good baby brother, Mahone had the tendency to overthink things.
"It's a simple play, we get in there, get scylla and get out before anything has the chance to go wrong," he'd directed.
"Be ready. These guys aren't going down without a fight."
In hindsight Mahone's concern may have been valid.
For starters they couldn't find the buyer so in order to cover more ground they'd split up. Mahone was the only one on the team he actually trusted, the former FBI agent had proven himself in recent times, but it hadn't been Mahone who'd followed after him. It had been Gretchen.
He'd spotted movement near the garage and being a man of action stormed after it.
He'd motioned to the other side without looking back.
"Cover the other door!"
So Mahone and Self had gone that way leaving Gretchen and T-bag as his back up. Not the most ideal situation. Not that he'd had time to complain.
The second he'd made it through the door something had stung him. A deep charge jolted through him and suddenly he'd lost all muscle control. He'd fallen crashing to the ground, in a daze.
Then something had knocked him on his head and cold black nothing had taken him.
Now he wasn't sure of where he was but one thing was certain—he'd been betrayed in some way. Someone had gotten him from behind, obviously whoever had tased him, but his backup should've been there to handle it. Gretchen had been right on his heels...
That lousy double-crossing bitch. She'd been the one to find the lead. To send them to the pier. This was starting to smell funny.
In a fit of anger he tried to throw a punch into the air only to find that his arm couldn't move. It was restricted, tied down to...what the fuck?
Lincoln glanced down to realize that he was strapped to a chair. His wrists were at each post, his ankles, his waist, it was like Fox River all over again. Briefly a surge of panic rushed him as his mind flashed back to what was supposed to be his final moments. The wet sponge on his head, Michael and Veronica watching him through the glass with tears in their eyes. His breath became rapid and he fought to calm himself.
Stay focused Lincoln. Don't go out like a bitch.
Slowly the panic subsided. He was no longer a deathrow inmate in Fox River Penitentiary. But he was still in danger.
God this would've been a good time for one of Michael's elaborate escape plans. Fuck it, he'd gotten himself out of jams before his baby brother's first pube. He didn't need rescuing.
The room he was held within wasn't exactly the Sheraton. It was definitely a storage space, dank enough but other than the few pieces of furniture to sit on it was rather empty. The walls were concrete, there were no windows and no carpet to clean. The perfect spot for torture and killing.
Outside he could hear voices approaching. He couldn't make out what they were saying but he knew they weren't friends.
"Hey, where the fuck am I?" he demanded out loud.
The voices halted before the door finally opened. Lincoln squinted his eyes in the drastic change from the hall light to find none other than Gretchen Morgan standing in the doorway.
"Lincoln, so glad you're awake."
Just as sultry as ever (in a psychotic bitch way) she stepped into the room before shutting the door behind her. He'd barely caught a glimpse of the man behind her—a familiar face. The buyer.
"You set this all up," he realized.
Anger filled him.
"You bitch!!! You set this all up!"
Gretchen only responded with slight amusement which pissed him off more.
"You didn't make it hard at all. I have to admit, for a second it looked like Mahone was going to blow it but I knew I could count on you to shut him down. I have to say the man hasn't been the same since his son died."
Lincoln tried to charge her. To get his hands around her neck but the straps held. Gretchen watched him the whole time, not even the least bit intimidated.
"You'll wear yourself out."
"Not before I choke the life out of you!"
"Suit yourself. I can wait all night."
It didn't take all night. After a few more minutes he had to accept that brute strength alone wouldn't break these bonds. But he was going to get free.
He glared up at her.
"Where are the others? Mahone?"
"Chasing their tails trying to find you," she replied.
"Not that they're too concerned."
He remembered the warehouse.
"T-bag in on it too? I know he didn't go with the feds." He’d come with Gretchen and Linc.
She laughed out loud.
"Theodore? Please. This doesn't concern him. Never did. This is about me and you Lincoln."
Her eyes darkened.
"And what you owe me."
He didn't like the accusation in her tone nor the crazy insinuation. Owe her? Owe her?! She'd kidnapped his son, threatened their lives, tortured the shit out of Sara and plotted their deaths but he owed her?!
"I owe you a slow and painful death for what you put my family through," he growled meaning every word of it.
He'd never been a killer before. But the company, they'd made him one.
Gretchen's eye twitched.
"Family? You want to talk about family? It's because of you that I lost mine Lincoln. You and this whole scylla shit!"
She pointed a finger as she railed.
"I had a daughter. She loved her Auntie Gretchen, let me brush her hair when I visited. Until your buddies decided to hold her hostage and bring this craziness to her doorstep. Now my sister won't let me near her. She's afraid that I'll bring more of you!"
His anger wouldn't allow him to feel sorry her.
"That was Self and T-bag. I had nothing to do with that. He double-crossed me too!"
"But it started with you Lincoln." More accusation.
"Ever since the Vice President's brother. You couldn't just fucking die, your brother had to break you out and draw attention to his skills. Had to make the Sona break necessary. You and your brother had to steal scylla. If you'd just fried in that damn chair none of this would've happened!"
So his death was what she wanted. She wouldn't be the first.
"You went through all of this trouble just to kill me?" he scoffed.
"Seems pretty redundant."
Because if he couldn't produce scylla then the General would surely end him anyway.
"Hm, 'redundant.' A little fancy for your vocabulary, Linc. Did Michael teach you that one?"
He wanted to smash her face for the remark.
"I'm going to fucking end you," he spat in reply.
She was unfazed. In fact she came closer, close enough that their noses touched.
"No Lincoln, you're going to give me back what you stole from me."
Before he could head-butt her, she scooted down his body, past his half buttoned white shirt down to his lap. He struggled again to knock her away, hating the bitch being this close, but to no avail. He was bound pretty good. Gretchen ignored his movement and reached for his belt buckle.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
He hadn't expected this.
She continued to undo his pants as if he hadn't spoken. Alarm bells went off inside his already rattled mind.
His zipper came down next exposing his white boxers.
"You crazy bitch what are you doing?"
Since he'd encountered her, Lincoln understood one thing about Gretchen Morgan. She was psychotic and when a psychotic mercenary was undoing your pants it was never a good thing.
She could have jumper cables waiting for him. Maybe she'd use her hands. There was torture and then there was TORTURE. She'd done a number on Sara with a whip. What did she have in store for him?
She slid her hand into his boxers and took hold of his cock. Lincoln stared in horror as she pulled it out. God, what was she going to do?
"You make another move—" he threatened because he didn't know what else to do.
He couldn't show weakness, couldn't beg her because Gretchen was deaf in that department. Besides, his hatred would never allow her the satisfaction of his pleas.
"—and I swear to God—"
His threat was cut off when her mouth enveloped his entire cock in one gulp. Lincoln's body shuddered. Involuntarily he groaned out loud.
He hated her, he hated her with such passion that he'd snap her neck if his hands were free but the hot wetness over him was doing something. He grit his teeth, trying to suppress his body's reaction. He didn't want it with her and definitely not now. She'd put the people he loved through too much. There was no redeeming that. But mind and body clashed as she wet his wood, driving it to full attention.
It had been a while. A couple of months since he'd been arrested in Panama and brought back to the US for Self's bogus mission. Sophia was still waiting for him but international conjugals hadn't been a part of the government railroad. Which meant he'd had no true relief.
He clenched his fists, burning with the long awaited pleasure below. His dick didn't give a shit about who was doing it, as long as it was getting done. And he hated to admit it but Gretchen knew how to get it done. Her lips circled his shaft tightly as she glided up and down, saliva soaking him with the movement. She came back down to the base with just as much grace, taking him deep into her hot throat.
She didn't even gag. Bitch was a pro.
He glared down at her, watching her face sink into his black pubes only to bob out, and back again. Her fingers slid up his stomach, caressing the cuts of his abs with just enough pressure to give him goosebumps. His skin shivered in response.
"When...when this is...over..." he groaned between breaths.
"I'm going to...fucking... kill you."
Her right hand traveled up in response to find his rock hard nipple and gave it a pinch. Shocks went straight to his cock and his hips jutted forward into her mouth. Lincoln couldn't quell the noise that jumped from his throat then.
She was getting to him. Hell she had already gotten him the second she'd took to her knees. She began twisting his nipple, blowing him at the same time and Lincoln's head spun.
His waist took a mind of its own and began fighting against the straps to push deeper, faster into the hole of pleasure that held him. He lost all control of his breathing, his mouth dropped open to collect the air.
Gretchen continued, unrelenting with her oral assault. Just when Lincoln felt himself tittering toward the edge, she pulled away, leaving him hard and wanting. His eyes bulged at the departure.
"What the fuck?"
She stood up, surveying him with a sexual arrogance that made him want to strangle her and fuck her at the same time. Lincoln glowered his hatred, frustration matching it's intensity.
"Remember that time I offered to fuck you on a table in Miami?" she asked.
"Bet your answer would change now, huh Linc?"
He watched her eye the brick that was his engorged cock, slick with her oral juice and demanding for release. Then she smiled. That little gesture set him off.
"You're dead!" he swore, his voice carrying the depth of his rage.
"You hear me! You're dead!"
He struggled against the straps, blinded by his need, his hatred, his desperation to plant his cock so deep inside her that he'd be cumming through her nose. His mind was a blur, he could no longer think.
Gretchen was absolutely unbothered by this, in fact the satisfaction on her face signified that this was exactly what she'd wanted. She had him. She knew it. He knew it and it was driving him insane. Haughtily she sauntered over, rested a finger on his sweating chest and circled his nipple. He ceased his movement at the contact and his breath hitched in anticipation. Their eyes met and she gave him a sly smirk.
"You're going to give me what you owe me, Lincoln," she assured him.
He watched her unbutton her blouse, revealing a firm set of tits in a black bra. She released them, and he hated himself for wanting a taste. After tossing the bra to the floor she removed her black slacks, then the small thong that covered her hairless snatch. Figured she would wax. Bitch loved pain.
"And you're going to give it to me right now."
With that she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap and slid his hard cock inside her. Lincoln groaned out loud. For someone who'd undoubtedly been around she was about the tightest he'd ever had. Her muscles worked with skill, squeezing him inside her as she rode him like a cowgirl.
He could hear her moans, feel her pleasure in her rhythm. He wanted to grab her, to squeeze her ass as she bounced but the straps restricted him. It didn't stop him from trying, however and he struggled to get more of her.
He still wanted to wring her neck.
Her breasts were at his eye level, bouncing away. Carnal instinct called him to bite them.
Gretchen screamed out at the pain but instead of jumping away she rode him even harder. Lincoln bit her again and her response was the same. This was the shit she liked.
"Lincoln," she was calling out his name.
Her hand swarmed the back of his shaved head, smashing his face into the fat of her tits. This time when he bit her he put his anger into it and her body began to convulse. Lincoln felt her fluid leaking down his cock as she shook all over him. Her inner muscles spasmed and threatened to take him with her.
Gretchen cried out as she came, suffocating his face in her breasts. Lincoln could taste her sweat, feel it in his nostrils. Smell it in his pores. As her climax subsided she gave him one last squeeze inside. It, along with her scent finished him.
His jaw fell open as the wave took over. His voice dropped low and he couldn't control the growl as he exploded inside her. She held him against her as he fired, his load massive in the months long dry spell. Lincoln shuddered against her with each shot. He hadn't cum so hard in years. He couldn't form words, or a thought or even recognize the mounds in his face. His hips pumped frantically, seized by the spasms of climax. Again he groaned and couldn't stop until the last of his burning hot seed had spewed deep into the woman on top of him.
When it was finished, he kept his face in her breasts. For a brief second he felt at home there.
"Oh Lincoln you do not disappoint."
Then he remembered who she was and yanked his head away. Gretchen was wearing a lazy post-coital grin.
"That was pretty damn good."
He hated that he agreed. That she'd gotten him to enjoy it as much as she had.
"This never fucking happened," he threatened.
"You're going to untie me and I'll give you a three second start before I break your fucking neck."
She laughed out loud.
"I like your passion, Linc. Save that for round2."
She rested her hands on his shoulders. He jerked them but couldn't get her off.
"The only round you're going to get from me is one straight in the temple," he promised.
That made Gretchen laugh. Because he was still inside her, the vibration hit his dick.
She let her index finger trail along his collarbone then down the middle of his hard pecs.
"You were singing a different tune just a second ago weren't you?"
Anger, hatred and shame caused him to spit in her face. That killed her jovial attitude.
Gretchen's hands were instantly around his throat, her bright blue eyes dark with venom.
"I'll give you a pass this once because I just fucked your brains out so you're a little confused, but make no mistake. There is no love between us, you're here for one reason and one reason only; to give me what you took from me. You spit in my face again and I'll take an eye. You don't need that to fill your debt."
She held him a tad too long for emphasis he was sure. When she released him she rose to her feet, freeing his cock from her tomb. He sucked in air as he watched her begin to pace.
"What debt? I never took a damn thing from you!" he argued once he caught his breath.
She caught that crazy look again.
"My daughter!! How many times do I have to tell you?!"
This was unbelievable.
"How many times do I have to tell you I had nothing to do with that! You got an ax to grind it's with Self and Bagwell!"
"If you and your brother had never stolen scylla they would've never had the chance!" she screamed.
"Don't you see? It was you. You and that brainiac little brother of yours that did this to me."
You and that brainiac little brother of yours.
At the mention of Michael, Lincoln's protective mode flared up. His brother was a big boy but he was in a vulnerable state right now. After surgery he might not be himself. If Gretchen blamed Michael as well then how long before she tried this same stunt on him?
"If you touch him in anyway—"
"I don't want Michael," she waved off the thought dismissively.
"He's a little too lean for my taste," her eyes roamed the muscle of his chest lasciviously.
"Besides even if I did he's under company lock-and-key."
The irony of the Company keeping Michael safe.
"So let me get this straight," Lincoln processed.
"Because my brother and my team stole scylla and the assholes that betrayed us betrayed you too you went through all of this trouble to sit on my dick?"
There was a serious lack of logic in her crazy. Gretchen stopped pacing long enough to give him the most condescending look.
"Really Lincoln? Is that what you think this is all about? I've wanted to fuck you since Panama but I wouldn't jeopardize my life just for that."
"I know Michael has the brains in the family but even you're not that dense."
Anger sparked in him as she stood over him like a schoolteacher waiting for a student to give the proper answer.
Then it hit him. Family. This whole time she'd been ranting about family, about her daughter. She felt that he was responsible for her losing her only child. That he owed her.
You're going to give me what you owe me, Lincoln.
Realization hit him and he suddenly felt sick.
"No. No, oh fuck no!"
A smile crept to Gretchen's lips at his comprehension.
"No, I ain't giving you any kid."
"Your body begs to differ."
"That was a one-time thing, a fluke!" he insisted.
"It'll never and I mean NEVER happen again."
She outright laughed in his face.
"How cute that you think you're actually the one in control here."
She leaned in a little closer.
"Let me explain how this works. You owe me a child and I intend to collect. So I will fuck you whenever I want, however I want, for how long I want until this womb right here is carrying the next generation Burrows got it? Try to refuse. It won't matter because this—" she grabbed his cock and began pumping it with her fist—
"—will always respond to my touch, my lips, my sweet pussy that just had you cumming like a geyser only five minutes ago."
Even as she spoke his cock was responding, growing solid under her stimulus. That fact and the hard truth that Gretchen was indeed controlling his reaction filled Lincoln with fury. He'd been a pawn for too long, a puppet by the company, by Homeland Security, now his strings were being pulled once again. And by this bitch of all people, the woman he hated most.
On impulse he lunged at her but just as before, the straps hindered the attack. Still his cock was getting harder and Gretchen wasn't letting up. Humiliation and frustration at the total lack of control was driving him mad. So he charged on, like a bull blinded by red.
She seemed to love it. That smug look of triumph on the same lips that had sucked him damn near to completion only lit the flames more. Lincoln began cursing her, calling her every name in the book that could make a sailor blush. It only made Gretchen's smile wider which in turn fueled him more. He was ready to black out red when she jumped right on him and once again proceeded to ride him hard.
This time he didn't have the capacity to hold back and roared upon entry. Every stroke brokered a grunt as he lost himself to the walls of her womanhood.
Sweat poured down his face, his chest at the intensity of their movement. He couldn't form the words, the insults that had so freely flown from his mouth moments ago gone to the savagery of a pure hot carnal fuck. His mind was a fog. There was nothing left but hate and pleasure and her tightness squeezing him raw.
Gretchen was calling out her glee, thoroughly enjoying herself. She didn't cuddle his head this time, it was much too wild for that. Caught up, she sank her nails into his shoulders drawing blood. Lincoln didn't even notice.
His eyes were locked on her, on her body, glazed with the fire of hatred and want and desperate need.
Then her eyes met his. And something inside her snapped. It was like she was feeding off of his resentment, fueled by his loathing. She went off the map and began bucking and twisting in a new pattern. Her twat muscles clenched erratically, her voice escalated, her hair flung all over the place. Then she came, hard and gasping all over him.
But she wasn't done.
Still locked into his glare she quickened her pace, not missing a beat. Her hands roamed his chest, stopping at both nipples to twist and turn and pinch simultaneously.
"Cum for me Lincoln," she taunted, never losing eye contact.
"Give in to mama."
He scowled in response but his breathing sped up. She leaned in to nip his lips with her teeth before pulling right back.
"You know you're close. I got you there."
He was practically panting now.
"Cum for me Lincoln. Give me all of it."
And he did, exploding once more inside her without abandon.
He hadn't intended to yell so loudly but it just came out.
Afterward he fell backward, physically, mentally and emotionally spent. He didn't know what to do anymore, his struggle hadn't exactly helped his cause and he knew that words were no mind to Gretchen. She'd still had her way with him, taken him like a free piece of meat. He hated her, now more than ever. But he also hated himself for not being able to stop it. For being lost to it not once but twice.
"I was right about you," she cooed, running her hand up and down his sweat soaked chest.
"Just imagine the things we could do. The things we WILL do before I'm done with you."
It was a promise that this wasn't the last time.
"You got what you wanted," Lincoln remarked, still catching his breath.
"Leave me the fuck alone."
He was aware that he was still imbedded inside her and the thought was unnerving. She didn't seem to mind.
"I told you what I want. I will have it."
He just wanted to be done, to regroup.
"I'm not giving you a baby, Gretchen."
"You may already have."
When she smiled victoriously it was enough. Lincoln took the chance to head-butt her clean off his lap. She hadn't been expecting it and fell backward ungraciously to the floor.
"Bastard!" she huffed.
He watched her sit up, spotted a knot forming and felt a little better.
"That wasn't a very nice thing to do to the possible mother of your child, Lincoln."
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand before coming to her feet.
"I hope L.J.'s mom got better treatment."
Her mention of his name reminded Lincoln of all she'd done to his son. How she'd almost murdered him back in Panama.
"You don't speak his name you hear me?"
She gave him a look but dismissed his threat.
"I'm going to get freshened up," she finally commented.
"Give you some alone time to think about your actions. My associates will be in later to clean you up, get you to a bathroom etcetera. You're hot and all but I can't be fucking you smelling like an armpit. And don't get any ideas when they come in. They're not as forgiving as I am."
She found her clothes on the floor and began dressing. Lincoln glanced down at the straps that held him.
"How long do you plan on keeping me here Gretchen? You know the General will be looking for me. So will my brother. It's only a matter of time before the company realizes that you took me off mission to play bondage house."
She paused, considering his point.
"As long as it takes to get what's mine Lincoln."
She turned to exit the room before adding;
"Like I said you owe me."