Spiked Roses: The Complete Top Shelf Series
Author: Hensley, Alta
Date: 2020-11-05

Spiked Roses

Complete Top Shelf Series

Alta Hensley

Copyright © 2020 by Alta Hensley

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Special Thank you to my editor: Maggie Ryan

And to my cover designer: Raven Designs

To Mr. Alta Hensley

I want to lick the whiskey from your breath.

Contents

Bastards & Whiskey

Chapter One

Kenneth

Chapter Two

Anita

Chapter Three

Anita

Chapter Four

Anita

Chapter Five

Kenneth

Chapter Six

Anita

Chapter Seven

Anita

Chapter Eight

Kenneth

Chapter Nine

Kenneth

Chapter Ten

Kenneth

Chapter Eleven

Anita

Chapter Twelve

Kenneth

Chapter Thirteen

Kenneth

Chapter Fourteen

Anita

Chapter Fifteen

Kenneth

Chapter Sixteen

Anita

Chapter Seventeen

Kenneth

Chapter Eighteen

Kenneth

Chapter Nineteen

Anita

Chapter Twenty

Kenneth

Chapter Twenty-one

Anita

Chapter Twenty-two

Anita

Villains & Vodka

Chapter One

Harley Crow

Chapter Two

Marlowe Masters

Chapter Three

Harley

Chapter Four

Marlowe

Chapter Five

Marlowe

Chapter Six

Marlowe

Chapter Seven

Harley

Chapter Eight

Marlowe

Chapter Nine

Marlowe

Chapter Ten

Marlowe

Chapter Eleven

Marlowe

Chapter Twelve

Marlowe

Chapter Thirteen

Harley

Chapter Fourteen

Harley

Chapter Fifteen

Marlowe

Chapter Sixteen

Marlowe

Chapter Seventeen

Harley

Chapter Eighteen

Marlowe

Chapter Nineteen

Harley

Chapter Twenty

Marlowe

Scoundrels & Scotch

Prologue

Chapter One

Ivy

Chapter Two

Ivy

Chapter Three

Victor

Chapter Four

Ivy

Chapter Five

Ivy

Chapter Six

Ivy

Chapter Seven

Ivy

Chapter Eight

Ivy

Chapter Nine

Victor

Chapter Ten

Ivy

Chapter Eleven

Ivy

Chapter Twelve

Victor

Chapter Thirteen

Ivy

Chapter Fourteen

Ivy

Chapter Fifteen

Victor

Chapter Sixteen

Ivy

Chapter Seventeen

Victor

Chapter Eighteen

Victor

Chapter Nineteen

Ivy

Chapter Twenty

Victor

Chapter Twenty-one

Ivy

Devils & Rye

Chapter One

Alec

Chapter Two

Makayla

Chapter Three

Alec

Chapter Four

Alec

Chapter Five

Makayla

Chapter Six

Makayla

Chapter Seven

Makayla

Chapter Eight

Alec

Chapter Nine

Alec

Chapter Ten

Makayla

Chapter Eleven

Alec

Chapter Twelve

Makayla

Chapter Thirteen

Makayla

Chapter Fourteen

Makayla

Chapter Fifteen

Alec

Chapter Sixteen

Makayla

Chapter Seventeen

Makayla

Chapter Eighteen

Makayla

Chapter Nineteen

Makayla

Chapter Twenty

Alec

Chapter Twenty-one

Makayla

Chapter Twenty-two

Alec

Chapter Twenty-three

Makayla

Beasts & Bourbon

Chapter One

Cheri

Chapter Two

Roman

Chapter Three

Cheri

Chapter Four

Roman

Chapter Five

Cheri

Chapter Six

Cheri

Chapter Seven

Roman

Chapter Eight

Roman

Chapter Nine

Roman

Chapter Ten

Cheri

Chapter Eleven

Cheri

Chapter Twelve

Cheri

Chapter Thirteen

Cheri

Chapter Fourteen

Cheri

Chapter Fifteen

Roman

Chapter Sixteen

Cheri

Chapter Seventeen

Cheri

Chapter Eighteen

Roman

Chapter Nineteen

Cheri

Sinners & Gin

Chapter One

Matthew

Chapter Two

Aria

Chapter Three

Matthew

Chapter Four

Aria

Chapter Five

Aria

Chapter Six

Aria

Chapter Seven

Matthew

Chapter Eight

Matthew

Chapter Nine

Aria

Chapter Ten

Matthew

Chapter Eleven

Aria

Chapter Twelve

Aria

Chapter Thirteen

Aria

Chapter Fourteen

Aria

Chapter Fifteen

Matthew

Chapter Sixteen

Aria

Chapter Seventeen

Aria

Chapter Eighteen

Matthew

Chapter Nineteen

Matthew

Chapter Twenty

Matthew

Chapter Twenty-one

Aria

About the Author

Also by Alta Hensley

Bastards & Whiskey

Chapter One

Kenneth

I stood before a table of assholes.

Six filthy rich, smart as fuck, and complete pricks sat around a circular African blackwood table. They each seemed annoyed they were even called to this meeting.

And why African blackwood—one of the most expensive woods in the world—a wood used to make instruments and one that had become nearly extinct because of mankind, you might ask? Why did we need such a luxurious table made of this wood in our office to conduct our meetings at?

Because we could.

Why did each of these assholes place their tumblers of high-end liquor over ice, dripping with condensation and leaving water rings on the delicate table?

Because we could.

We could do whatever the fuck we wanted.

We knew we were able to buy another table with an ease that made us cavalier toward possessions.

We were insanely rich, totally careless bastards. Each one of us.

Somewhere along the line, however, I had decided to become business partners with these ruthless men. On most days I felt as if I had made one hell of a wise financial decision pairing up with this motley bunch, and other days, I wondered how drunk I must have been on Macallan sherry oak whiskey to be fool enough to go in on this business idea. Had I known it was going to be so much work, I would’ve at the very least held out until someone treated me to The Balvenie 50-year-old single malt before agreeing to this bullshit.

And that’s what this business had become.

Total and utter bullshit.

My ass didn’t have time for this.

We owned Spiked Roses—an exclusive, membership only establishment in New Orleans where money or lineage was the only way in. It was for the gentlemen who owned everything and never heard the word no. Sipping on top shelf booze, smoking exotic cigars, and conducting multi-million dollar deals in our own personal playground of indulgence, there wasn’t anything we couldn’t have… and that had now become an issue. A big fucking, colossal problem that could make each one of us lose our asses in litigation and settlements.

“Listen, I don’t want to be here either, fuckers,” I began as I made eye contact with each man in the room. They were the powerful, royalty, the captains of industry, and the wealthiest fucks in the world.

They were also my friends, my business partners, and definitely some brutal and merciless shitheads who wouldn’t be above doing whatever it took to protect what was theirs. Whatever it took.

“We just got hit with another lawsuit,” I continued, looking down at the thick document in front of me, “and this one is a doozy.” I looked back at the men who didn’t seem bothered in the least. “And after we just got done paying out our asses for the last lawsuit…” I cleared my throat. “Make that the last couple of lawsuits. Spiked Roses is going to be in Chapter 11 before we even hit our one year anniversary.”

One of the founding members—Prince Roman Cassian—looked around the table and said, “Last I checked, none of us were hurting for money. Since when are we afraid of some frivolous lawsuits and paying people off?” With his European accent, his charming smile, and his casual demeanor, I could see why women lined up for even a glimpse of the royal blood that surged through his cock. We’d even had to up security at the entrance because women were trying to sneak in with hopes of luring the sexy prince into their beds.

“We have paid people off. A lot! NOLA City Council is practically on our bi-weekly payroll right now. With two Councilmember-at-Large positions, and representatives in districts A through E, our payoffs are steep and plentiful. Plus, the mayor is breathing down our necks. He doesn’t give a fuck what we do behind closed doors, but when it starts showing up in the courtrooms, he is losing his patience fast. So, something has to be done. And I don’t know about any of you, but I didn’t decide to open this club so some greedy bitch or asshole, who sees a payday in their future, can bleed my pocketbook dry,” I said between clenched teeth.

I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only founding member who would feel that way. But I also knew that since I handled all the legal matters of the business, it was very likely they all didn’t truly grasp the severity and quantity in which the suits were being filed.

“Story of my life,” Alec Sheldon said. Alec had made his fortune in oil and tobacco and was about as far away from a southern gentleman as you could get. He liked his sexual play dark and dirty, and he alone was one of the reasons we had to do something to protect Spiked Roses from future litigation. It was just a matter of time until his bedroom antics would land us in a multimillion-dollar sexual assault case. “Some little darlin’ sues me if I even look at her wrong, let alone touch her.” He took a long drink before adding, “It comes with the territory. We make money, and someone else wants to take it away. A hard lesson my pappy taught me was even if we don’t hire a whore, we’ll still pay for the sex one way or the other.”

Some of the men nodded and snickered in agreement.

The dangerous Harley Crow was the next to chime in. “And that’s what we have you for, Mr. Kenneth Saxon. You’re the vicious lawyer who destroys people in the courtroom. Am I correct? So go ahead and destroy.” His snarky tone was not lost on me, but I wasn’t going to say a thing. This son of a bitch was an assassin. No way to sugarcoat that fact. He killed people and made a shitload of money doing it. He was known as “The Crow”, because if he showed up without warning, you knew bad things were about to happen. I was glad he was a friend and not an enemy, and I planned on keeping it that way. “Unless you want me to handle things my way,” he added with an evil grin.

The other men all laughed and playfully told him to go for it. The Harley Crow way was the only way.

I fucking wished.

I released a sigh, feeling my frustration grow. “You fuckers won’t be able to afford me for long.” I reached down, lifted the thick document, and waved it for effect. “This one is for ten million dollars. And the one we just settled on was for nearly three million. The one before that was for five million. Shall I go on?”

I had finally gotten their attention. I saw grimaces, locked jaws, and stiffened spines.

I gave a smug nod. “That’s right. And the fact of the matter is, that we are losing—or would lose if we didn’t settle—because the women suing are within the law and have the right to have our heads on a stake. Our dirty ass members are doing the deeds these women claim, and all of you damn well know it.”

“There are no rules at Spiked Roses. No one says no to a member,” Victor Drayton pointed out as he sipped from his crystal tumbler. “Isn’t that why we created this place? We were sick of all the stuffy rules and regulations of all those other membership clubs? Are you asking us to become just like them?” He shrugged. “We might as well close our doors then. I have no interest in being part of those blue blood men’s clubs, and certainly don’t want to own one.”

Victor Drayton was the reason for the first lawsuit of 2.5 million dollars. He was a world-renowned gallery owner and art collector, but he also was known in the dark shadows of Spiked Roses for Drayton’s Dolls. He collected “dolls” which involved naked women being painted and then hung on display. Sounded normal and consensual enough, but based on the claim made by one of the “dolls” who sued us, it didn’t stop with just being painted as art for one of his galleries. The kinky descriptions of the art room in the deposition even had my filthy ass doing a double take.

I dipped my index finger between the knot of my silk tie and the cotton of my shirt to loosen the restriction a bit. I prepared myself for what I was about to propose. All eyes were on me; I had gotten their attention when I mentioned the loss of millions, but now they were looking for a solution.

“I’m not asking that we change the expectations of the members. You are right, Victor. We opened Spiked Roses because conventional isn’t a word to describe any of us. I’m not saying we change the men, but we need to change the women and how we go about things.”

I paused so my words could sink in. I took hold of my glass of whiskey and sipped it before continuing, taking the time to inhale the aroma of the aged-to-perfection liquid.

“The first thing we are going to do is clean house. All new staff,” I began. “We aren’t running a whore house, a drug den, or a strip club. And if you look around and really take stock, that’s what’s been happening. We have enough cocaine, heroin, and even meth being passed around in dark corners to have all our asses sent to prison for a very long time.”

“Ah come on, man. Cleaning house? That’s harsh,” Prince Roman interjected. “They aren’t all bad or on drugs.”

“Agreed. They aren’t all bad. But those who aren’t fully fucked up end up getting chosen to become arm candy by one of our members. They become the flavor of the month—or week—which means that our fucking staffing needs are a disaster. Those women don’t show up for work because they are fucking some count on his yacht,” I said as I finally took the seat at the head of the table.

“He’s right,” Matthew Price agreed. “We are rarely fully staffed lately, and the members are starting to complain about the speed of getting their drinks. Hell, we haven’t had a cigar girl working the floor in days. It’s not good business, gentlemen. Fuck all the lawsuits. They don’t matter if we have a shitty place to come to.”

Finally, I had someone else stepping up and speaking the harsh truths, and probably the best person in the room to do so. Matthew Price was a Captain of Industry in every way. He was the CEO and owner of Price Enterprises, and known for conquering his enemies by destroying their business value and then swooping in for the kill and buying up what was left. He was the king of the jungle, and a predator who couldn’t be stopped.

“I agree with Kenneth,” Matthew continued. “It’s time to clean house and start fresh. We also need a housemother of some sort. Someone to guarantee our staff follow the strict guidelines that we need to set. And we need fucking uniforms. I’m sick of seeing an array of fashion out on the floor. Just saying ‘sexy’ isn’t enough. We need to set the parameters of what sexy is.”

“Like a madam?” Alec asked. “I thought we wanted to get away from the image of running a whore house.”

“We can polish the title up however we want to make it not appear as a madam. Maybe hire a man to do the job for all I care.” Matthew paused as if considering his words. “A gay man so we know he won’t fuck them in the back room.”

“A daddy. I like it,” Alec said with a wicked smile. “A strict daddy to keep them all in line.”

“I may have the perfect person for the job,” Lennon Wolf chimed in. Lennon ran with some of the artsy and most eccentric people out of all of us. The type of people who owned monkeys or zebras and kept them in their backyard. It was impossible to show up at a fancy party and not see Lennon Wolf standing with a martini glass in his hands. He was the life of the party, and no party was complete without his presence. Known for gaining his wealth by being an art and jewelry thief, he was also known for never stealing from his friends. So, if you had valuable art and jewels, it was crucial to become friends with the man. Unless you wanted your rare Picasso to turn up missing that is. “His name is Tennessee Charles, and last I heard, his own sugar daddy just cut him off, so he’ll be looking for employment. But I know Tennessee, and he will have the women marching to his orders in a way that only that man can do.”

“Good,” Matthew said with a nod. “Bring him in. We need to start there. But make sure he’s a strict and mean motherfucker, because it’s time that Spiked Roses gets the reputation of not fucking around with the staff. No nonsense. We want people to be afraid if they’ll keep their jobs on a nightly basis. Mandatory drug tests and STD checks as well. I’m sick of coked out women working the floor.”

Since it appeared everyone in the room was now open to some reshaping of our original vision, I decided to broach the biggest change I wanted to see happen. “From now on, I would like to see contracts come into play. If any of our members—and that includes the founding members sitting here—want to fuck any of the staff, then they need to both sign a contract. In a nutshell, the contract states that both parties are openly and freely engaging in a sexual relationship. That for the length of the contract, the male owns the female. He has bought her, and she has allowed it. If you fuck her, you buy her. Simple.”

I could see the looks of shock and confusion on the men’s faces, so I quickly continued before any of them had a chance to say a word.

“Both parties can end the contract at any time. But if the member ends the contract, there is a fee to the female staff for doing so. A severance package of sorts. It protects the female because from now on, if she signs the contract, she will no longer be employed with Spiked Roses. So she will need a hefty compensation for when the contract ends.” I paused just long enough to take a drink and try to organize my thoughts better to fully explain the contract so it wouldn’t be confusing to someone who was not an attorney. “The reality is that we know all the relationships end eventually. The members grow tired of their arm candy and want someone new. The women go into it thinking they found their sugar daddy, and when it comes to a crashing halt, they get pissed and many want to sue. But they sue because they feel cheated somehow. Cheated of their payday. So, we are going to put in the contract that they do indeed get paid when the relationship ends. Now, if the woman ends the contract, that is on her. No payment. The man doesn’t owe her anything. And if we have a position open, she can always reapply, but there are no promises that her job will be held for her. Basically, gentlemen, I’m trying to protect our asses. To fuck one of our girls, you have to buy her first. Arm candy, or a quick fuck, or even a long term relationship is not free anymore. If you meet her at Spiked Roses, and if you want more than just a pretty sight to look at, then you need to sign on the dotted line.”

“How much?” Prince Roman asked. “How much will we be expected to pay if we end things after a little fun?”

“Depends on the negotiations,” I answered. “Standard contract is one year’s salary at Spiked Roses. But every contract can be negotiated.”

“And you think members and the staff will actually sign this?” Harley Crow asked.

“They have to if they want more. No one has to sign a thing, but then they need to not fuck. Black and white. If you want to fuck her, you have to buy her. And if you want to fuck him, you have to be willing to be bought. It protects both parties. The man can’t get sued for sexual harassment or assault, and the female doesn’t get left in the dust when the man gets bored. And like I said, the contract can last as long or as short as both parties want. It can be for just one night, or it can be for months. No more of that boyfriend/girlfriend shit here. It always backfires and then Spiked Roses somehow gets sued.”

“I like it,” Matthew said with a nod. “The contract proves the woman is giving consent.”

“Yes,” I said. “Plus, we can add any line items that may be a bit extraordinary like Victor expects with his dolls.”

Victor smiled and lifted his drink in a mock cheer. “I like your thinking, my friend.”

“And those sex parties that we have all been talking about hosting lately in The Tasting Room,” I said which had all of their eyes light up. “We can move forward with those now. The women will go into each sex party with clear expectations, the members will also know the rules, and official contracts will be written for each party. The difference with the sex parties, however, is that the staff won’t lose their jobs if they engage in a contract in The Tasting Room. That will be considered as part of their job—if they want to attend. No mandate will be set that any female has to attend. The Tasting Room is where the business happens, and once a contract is signed, the members can use one of our hotel rooms, or take the woman home. If it is just one night of sex, the contract will say so. If it’s more, then we will stipulate that as well. We are putting consent on paper, gentlemen. Putting it in writing so we don’t get fucked up the ass in litigation. And just for fun, and to add some ceremonial aspect to it, I was thinking we could have both parties prick their finger and seal it with blood.”

“I like,” Harley Crow said. “Anything with blood is a winner in my book.”

“And you don’t think this is prostitution? You are saying you want our members to buy the women,” Alec said with skepticism. “That’s illegal if you ask me, Mr. Lawyer.”

“No,” I replied quickly. “The members are asked to pay when the sex ends. When they are done and want to end the contract. The sex is free, but ending it is not. The Tasting Room is different, and yes, I guess you could call it prostitution, or you can call it arranged dating. But no one is being forced to enter that room.” I released a large sigh. “I’m not saying this idea of the contract is completely on the up and up. Hell, it won’t even hold up in a court of law. But it’s better than what we have now. It at least makes it very clear what is expected by both parties. If, by some chance, we do land in court again—which is very likely—when we pay off the judges, we can at least put their minds at ease that the entire situation was consensual. Or at least as close as we could get to it.” I looked down at the document before me. “The latest suit is because Jackson Latham brought one of our staff to his little house of horrors, tied her up for three days, and sexually ‘tortured’ her as the claimant states. But we all know that Jackson is known for his kidnapping kink, and we also know Jessica James knew of that kink and she and Jackson had been fucking around for weeks. But this was her payday, and now this poor fucker is going to have to pay out the ass and pray to God he doesn’t have criminal charges placed against him because it’s her word against his. He claims consent; she claims kidnapping. If they both had signed a contract—with a little stamp of blood from both parties for pizazz—where it states what his kink is and his expectations, then he wouldn’t be in this position, and Spiked Roses wouldn’t be a codefendant in this really fucking expensive lawsuit. We have legal issues out our ass, so much so, that I have had to hire a legal team to help me out.”

“Not all women are guilty of looking for that payday you mention,” Prince Roman argued.

“I know that,” I said with a nod. “And it has also become our job to protect the women who work for us. This does that. Often women get fooled or blinded by all the promises of love and care. And when they let their guards down, they ultimately get screwed. I don’t know about you, gentlemen, but I have yet to hear of a love story emerging from Spiked Roses. So, with this contract, it protects their interest. Black and white. And every woman hired will see this contract upon employment. They never have to sign one if they don’t want to. Never. Unless, of course, they want to fuck a member of Spiked Roses or attend one of the tastings. Then, it is mandatory. Mandatory for our members too. If they want to fuck, or have fucked one of our staff and we find out, they must sign a contract or forfeit their membership and all fees associated with it.”

“But do we really need to clean house?” Prince Roman asked. “I guess I’m not a heartless fucker like all of you,” he said with his trademark charming grin.

“It’s setting the stage,” Matthew added. “We have to build an unbending reputation starting now. It’s better to start over and from the beginning than to expect people to change. No one likes change. And right now, the women are talking. They know how much others are getting as a payday in the settlements and want a part of that as well. So, we need to start fresh. Show that we are taking control, and this suing shit is about to come to a screeching halt. Fast.”

Matthew was clearly on my side, but the others didn’t seem as convinced.

I stood up like I had started the meeting and like I always did in court when I really wanted to drive the point home, and said, “Gentlemen, please pull out your wallets and place whatever cash you have in the center of the table.” When no one immediately did as I asked, I added, “Come on, you stingy bastards, humor me and do it.”

Each man begrudgingly did as I asked as they reached into their pockets. Hundreds of dollars were placed by each man, and, in some cases, thousands.

“Matthew, do you mind counting that up for me?” I asked.

Matthew took hold of the cash and quickly counted. “Nine thousand and fifty dollars.”

I nodded and then reached over to the intercom and hit the button, waiting for the secretary to answer.

“Yes, sir?” came a soft voice on the other end.

“Lena, can you come in here please?” I asked.

A few moments later, Lena came in and stood by the door, looking nervous as she scanned the room and saw all the founding members sitting around the table. She wore a tiny black dress that accentuated every delicious curve of her body, black pumps that tightened the firm muscles of her legs, and her long black hair flowed freely down her back. She had the look of a beautiful baroque goddess, and I knew by a quick glance at every man in the room, that she was one of the most fuckable women any of us had seen in a long time. My cock twitched at the thought of having it buried deep inside her while all the men watched on with envy.

“Lena, did you get a response from the new HR manager who we offered the job to yesterday?”

She diverted her eyes from the staring men and looked at me directly. “Yes, sir. He said he will start with the new hiring tomorrow first thing. I also told him you or one of the founding members would be overseeing the interviews.”

I nodded. “Very good, thank you.” I motioned for her to go ahead and leave, which she did quickly without saying another word.

Lennon Wolf whistled and leaned back in his chair. “Woo, she is a looker indeed.”

I smiled. “That she is. I can see you all agree.” It was obvious on each man’s face. “It’s clear you all want to fuck her. I sure as hell do. So, who here is prepared to buy her and sign that contract I mentioned? Right now. Buy her so you can fuck her within the hour. Anyone?”

I paused and looked around, seeing that not one man was jumping up and saying yes.

“No one? No one wants to sign the contract?” When no one answered, I added, “Good. Do you see, gentlemen? This will help keep our members in check. Many will sign the contract because we are all dirty bastards, but it will make the business man come out in all of us and at least make us pause and think about our actions. It will hold us accountable. It will also make the parties in The Tasting Room more profitable, because those contracts are short term and don’t require the same commitment.”

I buzzed Lena back in and waited.

“Yes, sir?” she said with more confidence this time as she entered the room.

“Lena, you are fired. Spiked Roses is terminating all current employees effective immediately.” I pointed to the large pile of cash in the middle of the table. “Take what’s there. It’s yours. Consider it your severance package.”

Tears filled the poor girl’s eyes and her lip began to quiver.

“Nothing against you, Lena. But Spiked Roses is about to be reborn.”

Chapter Two

Anita

I wanted a rattlesnake to bite me.

I always did as I trekked my way along the sagebrush on Interstate 80. I didn’t want to die exactly—or maybe I did. It didn’t matter really. I just wanted a rattlesnake to strike from the shadows of a dry bush and pierce my skin with its venomous fangs. I wanted to feel the fear of knowing I could die. I wanted to feel the pain as the lethal injection sizzled through my veins. I simply wanted to feel something. Anything at all.

I wanted to look Mother Nature straight in the eyes and say “fuck you” as I struggled for each breath. I wanted to fight the battle of survival, walking along the edge of life and dark oblivion. I wanted to feel toxins, poison, death. All for one reason.

I was bored. So very bored.

Every day, beneath the Nevadan desert sun, I would walk the same path. I’d kick the sage with my worn Converse-covered feet in hopes I would wake a rattler from its slumber. For years, I did this ritual. For years, I remained bite free. I couldn’t even have that excitement in my life. I was destined for boring. Fated for a life of nothing but tedious existence.

And today was no different as I walked to my place of employment, grateful for the breeze in the air caused by the cars and large semi-trucks zooming by me at ninety miles an hour. The speed limit was seventy, but I couldn’t blame a single soul for wanting to race through my piece of shit town. If you could even call Muckaluk a town. I think the truckers saw it as exit 222, mile marker 51. That was all it really was. A mile marker. A mile marker in Humboldt County near Coal Canyon. This was my home. This was my hell.

Dust devils and sagebrush.

Rain clouds always in the distance promising showers that never came. Broken promises all my life.

I lived in a singlewide trailer that had been owned by my meemaw and pappy before they died. They were too poor to even afford a spot in a trailer park, so the trailer was dumped underneath a pine tree behind a long-abandoned gas station that no longer had any glass in the windows and had most of the roof missing due to neglect. Meemaw used to tell me that as long as we had the electricity and sewer bills paid, we were living in the lap of luxury. Though many months growing up, we did not live in that so-called luxury she spoke of. Even when we did have our bills caught up, we were then lucky if we had enough food to survive on. My grandparents’ disability checks barely gave us what we needed.

So, I was grateful when one of the few residents of exit 222, mile marker 51 who actually owned a house was in need of a caregiver and housekeeper. I jumped on that opportunity at the age of fifteen, lying to good ol’ Virgie Peterson that I was indeed sixteen and old enough to hold the job. Luckily, she had hired me six years ago. Luckily, I had a way to take care of my grandparents financially as first Pappy died, and then followed closely by Meemaw only six months later. So, I guess I should have considered myself lucky. And I tried to be grateful every single day because my meemaw had taught me to always find one good thing in your day even if you felt it had turned out to be total shit.

Today I was grateful that rattlesnakes lived under sagebrush.

Come out, come out, wherever you are...

Another semi raced by me—too close to where I walked—scaring away all the rattlesnakes. Fucker. This truck had a license plate revealing it was traveling from Vermont. Such a long drive to enter the depths of Hades. I wondered if the driver had even noticed me kicking bushes along the highway as I walked toward an old Victorian house that sat out in the middle of nothing but desert scrub brush with the interstate a few feet from the front porch. Or did my brown hair blend in with the dirt all around me? Did my small frame look no bigger than the signs that gave the numbers of miles until the next big town? The next town worth going to… if there were such a town in the state of Nevada. And if the trucker did notice me, why didn’t he stop? Was I scary? Sad? Pathetic? Maybe I reminded him of all the failures in his own life. Maybe stopping to ask me if I needed a ride would somehow open the doors to heartache he would rather leave behind. Maybe I was seen as an apparition. The ghost of nothing. That was me. Nothing.

I’d once tried to hitchhike when I was thirteen with no destination in mind. My meemaw got wind of it and spanked me with a carpet beater for doing so.

“Your restless soul will get you killed,” she had said between stinging swats.

Though I didn’t like upsetting my grandmother, I didn’t really mind the punishment. I liked the pain in a way. Maybe that was when my fascination with being bit by a snake began.

Who knows…

And though I never tried to hitchhike again, I was never able to settle my soul like the other people who lived along the interstate had. My soul screamed for release. It hollered and pounded from deep within, begging for mercy. Exit 222, mile marker 51 was killing what was left of my soul, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“You walk too close to the road,” Virgie called from her porch. She was sitting on an old rusted porch swing like she did every morning awaiting my arrival. And every day she greeted me with the same chastisement.

“And you shouldn’t be out here breathing all the diesel fumes from the traffic,” I countered as I had done every single day for the last six years. We were like an old vinyl record set on repeat. A record playing in a damn insane asylum where there was no escape, and we had no choice but to muddle through our drug-induced lives.

“And you should wear a hat. Protect that pretty face of yours,” she added as I walked up the five steps in need of repair. “Take it from me. I once was pretty like you. Now look at me. I’m a dried up raisin.” She put out her wrinkled and frail hand in front of her and examined it. “I even used all those fancy hand creams in my youth.” She snorted. “Lots of good those did me.”

I sat down beside her, ignoring the loud creak of the rusty hinges on the swing. Someday it would crash beneath us, but for today it held. “You’re still very pretty.” I took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “You may be dry, but what do you expect when you live your life as a desert rat?”

“Is that what we are? Rats?” she asked as she stared at the steady stream of cars driving by.

“We could be worse.”

“Worse? Than rats?”

I smiled. I loved the bizarre conversations this woman and I could engage in. “I better get to work. I want to get out of here by three. I have an appointment with Roy.”

Virgie released my hand and slapped the top of my thigh. “Girl, you don’t need anymore tattoos! You have more than enough. You almost have no skin left to cover.”

“You can never have enough tattoos. I still have plenty of empty skin.”

“Your entire arm is covered. I would say that is enough. Please tell me you aren’t planning on doing the other one too.”

I was. But not yet. I still had to finish my back and the tattoo that ran over my ass and thigh. Virgie didn’t truly grasp how many tattoos I had since she never saw my back, my right butt cheek, or my upper thigh. When I was done, I planned on having my entire right side tatted. I wanted the entire right side of me to appear as if I had been dipped in multicolor ink. My soul was gray, but my spirit was not… These tattoos were my only way to keep some color in my life.

“I thought you liked the flowers I did on my shoulder,” I pointed out.

Virgie shrugged. “I did. I do. I just don’t know why you put yourself through the pain, and why you mark your pretty skin.”

“It doesn’t really hurt.”

I wished it hurt more.

“Needles going into your skin hurts.” She pushed the swing back with her feet, rocking us back and forth. “And Roy stinks.”

I snickered. “He does.”

Roy was an old biker and about as cliché as one could be on what a biker dude would look like. Long gray hair with matching beard that almost hung down to his oversized belly. He always wore an old Harley tee or a shirt that he had collected at a biker street fair in Reno called Street Vibrations. His favorite thing was to cut off the sleeves and make a homemade tank top. It always showed off his armpit hair that also was gray like his beard. And he stunk like B.O. and gasoline. I didn’t mind the smell really. I had gotten used it. Roy treated me well and was really quite talented. But the best thing about Roy is he would tattoo my body for a six-pack of Pap’s Beer and twenty bucks for the ink. I think he liked my company, and maybe liked the peek he got of my ass or another part of my body. But he was harmless. I liked him and all the stories he told of his biker gang days. He was a bad ass who somewhere along the line lost his way. He never told me how he ended up at exit 222, mile marker 51, but no one really did. Maybe the story was too sad. Maybe it was too dark. Maybe they just didn’t care. It happened, so all they could do was accept their shitty fate.

Virgie stood up, taking a few moments to make sure her knees wouldn’t buckle beneath her before she started to walk. “You are too damn pretty to be hiding behind all that ink. It’s nonsense.”

I smiled, knowing this was a topic that Virgie and I would never agree on. “I like them.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“They’re part of me,” I said as I got up and opened the front door for both of us.

Virgie snorted. “Well, you got that right. It’s not like you can wash them off.”

I walked straight to the kitchen and started washing the few dishes in the sink from the night before and morning. I didn’t see any pots or signs of a cooked dinner. “What did you eat last night?” I called out to her as she settled herself into her Lazy Boy chair.

“I wasn’t hungry. I popped some popcorn and watched some movie about a vampire who sparkled. Damn movies these days. What ever happened to Dracula?”

“Virgie,” I said with a sigh as I placed the dishes in the dishwater. “You can’t live off of popcorn. You need more sustenance than that when you take your meds at night.” I looked over my shoulder at her as she reached for her knitting and began working on whatever was her next creation like she did every day, all day. “Did you take your medication last night?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, not looking away from the yarn.

“Why do I not believe you?” I asked as I walked over to the pill containers on the counter. I opened up the weekly medi-set to see if she had, and not only had she not taken last night’s pills, but she hadn’t taken this morning’s. “Virgie, your meds are still in here. You have got to take them. I set them all up for you to try to make it simple, but you have to remember.”

“Oh, I remember. I just don’t feel like it. All those damn medications are going to pickle my insides. I don’t want to be preserved like some armadillo in a taxidermist store. I want to die someday. Those damn doctors want to turn me into a mummy.”

“Yeah, well those damn doctors are going to put you in a nursing home if they think you aren’t taking care of yourself. Elder protective services have already been called once. You want them back out here?” I poured the colored pills in my hand and brought them to where Virgie sat. I handed them to her, reached for her glass of Coke and gave that to her too. “And when is the last time you drank water? You can’t live off of popcorn and Coke, Virgie.”

She took the pills and grumbled, “I don’t see why the hell not. I’m old. I can do whatever I want, and ain’t nobody telling me I have to spend the rest of my days in an old person’s home. This is still a free country, and this house is mine. I will die here no matter what some suit-wearing biddy says from the state.”

“Well, I would like to keep you around.” I gave her a wink. “I don’t want to have to find another job.”

She smiled. “You shouldn’t be here taking care of my old bag of bones.”

“Yeah, well, last I checked, there weren’t a lot of jobs floating around Muckaluk.” I patted her shoulder playfully and then walked back into the kitchen to continue cleaning.

“I’m serious,” she said while she continued to knit. “You need to get out of this town.”

“Well, unless a dust devil sweeps me away, I don’t exactly see that happening anytime soon.”

“You should go to New Orleans. I always loved living in New Orleans.”

I scrubbed away, waiting for her to tell me the same stories she always repeated about her days living on Bourbon Street until she met her husband. She had thought she would someday become a famous blues singer. From all her stories, it had sounded like she had made a pretty good living doing so.

“I don’t sing the blues, Virgie.”

“Well, the waitresses at those joints made good money too. Sometimes better money than I did.”

I continued to clean the kitchen, preparing to listen to her ramble like any other day, but then her talking ceased which instantly had me freezing and walking over to her to check if everything was all right.

“Virgie? What’s wrong?” She was staring at me in silence, appearing lost in thought. She didn’t say anything but just stared at me—actually through me as if her mind had gone off in a different direction. “Virgie?”

After several moments, long enough that I wondered if she was having a stroke or something, she finally spoke. “You do need to leave. And you do need to go to New Orleans.”

I patted her leg and stood upright to get back to work.

“I’m serious, Anita. You do. In fact, the boarding house that I rented a room in is still there. The owner became a dear friend of mine. She passed several years ago, but her daughter took over the business. I’m not sure if she is running it the same, but we should check. You could rent out a room and find a job in New Orleans. You could, and you should.”

“See what happens when you don’t take your medications? You start talking like a mad woman.” I shook my head and walked back to the kitchen.

“Hush now, and listen to me.” I heard the squeak of the Lazy Boy chair as Virgie got out of it and shuffled her slippered feet to me in the kitchen which was something she had never done before. All our conversations were done either on the porch swing or by her chair. Virgie wasn’t exactly an active and mobile person. “This place is eating you up. Your meemaw and pappy are gone, and there is nothing keeping you here.”

“You are here.”

“Again, shut your mouth and listen to me. That nurse is scheduled to come see me several times a week now.”

“You hate that nurse,” I countered. “You said she smells like Pine-Sol.”

“Well she does, but that’s not the point. Stop interrupting me,” Virgie scolded as she tapped my lips with her bony finger. “So, as much as I love you, child, I don’t need you. And I’m not going to stand by and let you rot here right alongside of me.”

I chuckled. “And you think I should go to New Orleans?” I rolled my eyes and turned to finish the dishes.

“Yes, it’s a beautiful city and perfect for new beginnings. There are so many places to get a job in those bars until you get your footing. And if you can still rent out a room like I did—”

“It’s a nice sounding dream,” I mumbled.

Virgie clapped her hands and walked over to the phone hanging on the wall. She was old school and didn’t believe in giving up her landline and relying on a cell phone. Underneath the phone was her station of papers, pens, and her address book. “I’m going to find that number. I will bet money that my friend’s daughter is still running that house as an apartment building rather than a large house. She was such a sweet girl, and still sends me a Christmas card every year in honor of her mother. She knew her mother always did and wanted to keep that up. Love that child,” Virgie said, more to herself than to me as she flipped through her address book. Clearly finding the number, she picked up the phone and started dialing. “Let’s hope she’s there.”

I shook my head and reached for the Windex to clean the counters as I tried to not pay attention to Virgie talking on the telephone. I suppose I could have eavesdropped to see what was being said, but I decided to collect the garbage and take it out to the dumpster in the side yard instead. Virgie was losing her mind. Like I could just pick up and leave for New Orleans.

Tossing the garbage into the dumpster, I looked toward the horizon seeing storm clouds moving in. It was odd to see thunder boomers forming so early in the day. For a change, the storm may actually make it our way. It was something to look forward to, I supposed. Lightning and thunder to set my backdrop as I had Roy tattoo a string of poppies along my hip.

“Anita!” Virgie called from the house, pulling me from my thoughts. “Come in here. Where are you, child?”

I walked back into the kitchen wondering what crazy idea she wanted to chatter about now.

“I just got off the phone with Marie St. Claire, my friend’s daughter. I was surprised she had never married. I thought for sure her name had changed. A woman of her age and not to be married…” Virgie paused, shook her head, and then continued. “Never mind that. Anyway, she said she is indeed running the boarding house and even has a room available. It shares a bathroom with two other rooms, but she said the tenants are young women and are nice. But the good news is she has a room. She even said the other women living there might be able to find you a job. They all work together at a bar in town.”

“Virgie…”

She raised her hand. “Don’t try to make me sound like a loon. I may be, but I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before. There is no sound reason why you should stay here. There really isn’t. You have no reason to not go to that piece of shit home of yours, pack a suitcase and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“I can’t just leave for New Orleans. On a moment’s notice? You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? Because you have a tattoo session?” She huffed. “I think stinky Roy can do without you.”

She was serious. Virgie really expected me to move to New Orleans as if it were as simple as going to the grocery store. “When and how exactly do you see this all happening?” Maybe I shouldn’t humor her, but then a part of me was curious as to how she envisioned this all going down.

“Now. You go today. You stay at Marie’s. A single room with no bathroom isn’t ideal for long, but it will be good until you get a paycheck.”

I stopped cleaning and stared at the woman who really did appear and sound serious. “Virgie… I can’t just pick up and move to New Orleans today! Not today or anytime soon. I don’t have the money or the means to just take off. I even have to use your car to get groceries. I don’t have the funds to just pick up and move to another state.”

“Yes, you do because I am giving it to you. Consider it your severance pay. I’m firing your ass.” She smiled so big that her entire face lit up. “You have to be spontaneous in life, Anita. When I was your age, I lived life. Nothing held me back. I have memories that I will forever cherish because I didn’t let fear get in the way of my choices. Sure, not all my decisions were good, and actually many were downright foolish, but at least I lived. You, Anita, need to live. Jump off the cliff, even if it means crashing down below.”

I patted her upper arm. “You aren’t firing me, and you don’t want me to leave. I appreciate you calling your friend and trying to make this happen, but this isn’t in my cards right now. Maybe someday, but not now.”

It was pure insanity is what it was.

“I am dead serious. You are fired, child. And I’m going to give you enough money for a month’s rent, the bus ticket, and some spending money for food and such. But you will have to get a job quickly, which I’m sure you will be able to do. Like I said, Marie said the other women might be able to help with that.”

“I have the trailer and my belongings and—”

“I will look over it. No worries there. And let’s be real, Anita. You aren’t fooling me with this act. You don’t give an ounce of care about that trailer nor the items in it. You’ve told me yourself how you just wished you could pick up and leave with just the clothing on your back.” Virgie walked over to her purse. “Come on. You need to go pack some of your stuff and drive me to Winnemucca so I can get to the bank before they close. You can catch the Greyhound there too.”

“Wait,” I said as Virgie slipped on her shoes that were sitting by the door. This was the fastest I had ever seen the woman move. “You really are serious, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Damn straight I am. You should have done this the minute your meemaw and pappy died. And I should have given you the boot of courage to make it happen. When I was your age, someone did this for me. Consider this as my act of paying it back, and you can do the same for some young woman when you have a chance.”

“Someone paid for you to go to New Orleans to be a singer?”

“Yes, to follow my dreams.”

“I don’t have any dreams,” I argued, feeling a panic attack knocking at my psyche. “I have no dreams to follow.”

Virgie stopped and studied me for several moments with sadness—or pity—in her eyes. “Well, it’s about time you get some. Everyone needs dreams. Not just nightmares.”

Chapter Three

Anita

When it rains in the desert, it stinks. Most people love the smell of it. The smell of rain, they say. Well, rain smells like dirt. Dust. Maybe it smells different in other parts of the world, but in the Nevada desert, it smells dirty. It forces me to breathe out of my mouth like I do in gas station bathrooms because I hate the smell so much. And I always feel like I have to keep this odd fact about me secret because everyone is always inhaling deeply and gushing over how much they love the smell of rain. What would they have thought if I actually answered honestly and said I thought it smelled bad? Told them that I would rather smell sewer… well, maybe not sewer, but the same idea.

No, I hated the smell of rain.

But I did love when it rained. I loved the sound of it hitting the roof of the trailer as I would lie in bed. It soothed me. I loved the way it ran down the dirty windows, streaking them with long trains of water. I loved the puddles it formed on the dry desert land. I also loved that whenever it did rain, the wind usually picked up. The thunder would boom in the distance with cracks of light breaking the sky.

I also loved how the rain made people happy—especially living in the desert. I think it was our basic human instincts of survival. Our cores knew Mother Nature was keeping us alive. So people rejoiced. Rain had a way of cleansing everything. From the dirty town I lived in, to the asphalt of the highway that had people driving right past us. Rain could make the ugly pretty for a short time.

But my favorite part of rain was when it really poured. Which didn’t happen for long. There would be a five-minute burst every so often in a desert thunderstorm, and when that cloud released, it would flood the landscape. Sheets of rain would wash down in buckets. It would rain so fast and furious that the dry ground couldn’t keep up. Flash floods would happen, washing away all the piled up garbage in the cracks of the sidewalks or the gutters of houses. It would wash away all the piled up filth that had accumulated over time. One five-minute downpour, and everything was clean. Clean.

I loved the rain.

I just hated the smell of it.

As I sat on the Greyhound bus, staring out the window, I watched it rain as I left. I was in the flash flood, getting swept away to New Orleans. Virgie had completely lost her mind. Without a doubt, lost her mind. And yet… here I was on the bus, with a suitcase, a duffle bag, and an oversized purse carrying all my possessions. I was the insane one.

I also had more money in my pocket than I had ever seen, including a check made out to Marie St. Claire for a month’s worth of rent. I had never had someone do something so nice for me before. I had promised Virgie I would pay her back, and she had refused like the stubborn old lady I’d always known her to be. The only thing she wanted from me were hand written letters. She said she wanted to see New Orleans through my eyes, and hear of all the adventures I was about to experience. She had said it was my turn to live an exciting life like she had once done.

My turn.

Luckily the bus wasn’t crowded, and the seat next to me was empty so I could stretch out. Once I reached Las Vegas, I would still have 1 day, 19 hours, and 45 minutes of driving to reach New Orleans. It was about to be the longest drive of my life, and also the most terrifying, most thrilling, and most life altering.

I wasn’t really a reader, but I did pack a couple of Virgie’s paperbacks to try to pass the time, but I wasn’t in the mood to get them out of my bag just yet. But I decided to go ahead and write the first of the promised letters to Virgie. When we reached the next stop to get some vending machine food and drinks, I would hopefully be able to find a mailbox. Virgie had been sure to give me plenty of stamps and paper to last me months before sending me on my way. She wanted to make sure I had no excuse not to write. Virgie would be tickled if she were to get a letter almost immediately after I left, so I pulled the paper and pen from my purse to begin.

Virgie,

I can’t believe I am doing this. I’m sitting on a bus, driving days to get to a city where I have never been. I’ve only seen it in movies and know of one landmark—Bourbon Street. And I know there are gators in a swamp.

What have I done? What have you made me do? I truly have lost my mind.

But I have to thank you. Thank you so much for pushing me to do something like this. I was trapped… I know that. I’ve always known that. I wanted out so badly but never had the shove I needed to do so. You not only shoved me, you gave me a huge boot in the ass and kick in the teeth that I needed.

You are my best friend. My only friend. Which I realize is an odd best friend pairing. Our ages, our pasts, even our futures are not on the same path, but I feel it in my soul. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, and after what you did for me today, I now know there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for me as well. So leaving you has already left a huge gaping hole in my heart. Yes, I worked for you. And yes, I cleaned after your dirty ass, but you were my friend. And what you did for me today was by far the best gift I have ever received in my life.

So here I am. On a Greyhound. Because of you.

My meemaw wanted me to leave Muckaluk. She had made me promise that I would leave and start a new life. I meant it when I promised her that I would, but I didn’t know when, or how. And frankly, I’m not sure if it would have ever happened.

Before I left, you said I needed to find a dream and not just nightmares, but the truth of the matter is that I don’t even have nightmares. I am blank. Hollow. At this point of my life, I would welcome the nightmare too. Anything to add pigment to my blank canvas and to fill up my hollow hole. I think that’s why I got so many of those tattoos you hated so much. It was the only way I could add color to my stark, blank, white life.

So, as I sit here and write this letter, I wonder what is in store for me. What do I want? What is my future? Will I be a coward and return to you in tears? Will I find my dreams, my nightmares? How will I survive once I use all your money? So many questions, and yet, as I watch the rain run down the glass windows of the bus, I feel a sense of peace. I think I can do this… no, I KNOW I can do this. It’s time. It’s time I add the color to my life and not just my body.

But SHIT, can you tell Roy I’m sorry for missing my appointment, and I owe him an extra six-pack of Pap’s? And don’t tell the man he stinks. I know you, Virgie, so just hold that tongue of yours. Ha.

Well, here is the first letter of many to you. I hope I have more exciting things to say in my next one, because there isn’t much to say yet. I’m almost to Las Vegas, and then I hop on another bus to go the rest of the way. Then I will have 1 day, 19 hours and 45 minutes until I arrive. I may go crazy, since that seems like an impossibly long time to sit in a bus, but I’m going to try to stay positive and open to the gift you gave me. The bus isn’t crowded and the few people who are on it seem just as lost as I am. Vacant eyes staring out windows at passing landscape. I do wonder what their stories are. Are they full of despair or hope? Are they running to something, or running away? Are they afraid, or are they brave? I watch them and wonder if they are watching me too. Are they a blank canvas like me, ready to paint their picture?

I hope I make you proud, Virgie. And I hope through my letters and words you can revisit the life you once lived in New Orleans through my eyes. I will try. I promise you this. I won’t be afraid. I won’t hold back. I will go in with both feet and both eyes wide open. It’s time I took chances and lived. And I promise myself that I will not return to that trailer. I will never go back there. I will do whatever it takes to not go back there. I’m a fighter, Virgie. I guess I just needed you to remind me of that fact. I won’t let you down. I won’t let myself down either.

I love you,

~Anita

P.S. You better be taking your meds and eating more than just popcorn. Don’t force me to come back just to check that you are.

I folded up the letter, placed it in the envelope, stuck the stamp on it, and hadn’t realized I had tears running down my face until I tucked it away into my purse. I wasn’t one to reveal my emotions easily. It was so much simpler to be like the rough bikers who drove through Muckaluk without a care in the world or so much as a smile on their faces. It was just them and the open road. Yes, that was me. Just me and the open road. But Virgie deserved my open soul. If anyone deserved it, it was her.

Wiping at my tears I refused to shed again, I closed my eyes and settled in for the next 1 day, 19 hours, and 45 minutes. A long fucking ways away from exit 222, mile marker 51.

Chapter Four

Anita

I stood before a large house I had just learned was in what was known in New Orleans as the Garden District. My taxi driver had told me that the house was a short trolley ride to Bourbon Street, which again, was the only landmark that I knew of this unknown city I was about to call home, unless you counted the swamp in general.

Glancing down to the top of my hand, I saw 4342 Camp Street written with blue ink. Virgie had given me the address when I phoned her once I got to the Greyhound station. Marie St. Claire’s boarding house was the picture of perfection. Large ferns hung from the porch awning of a white and gray house. It was too pretty for the likes of me, and if I didn’t know better, I would think there was no way I could afford a place this nice. Though I was only renting a room and sharing a bathroom with two others, it still seemed too high class and pricey for my nonexistent budget.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my bag and suitcase and walked through the iron gate, up the porch stairs, and rang the doorbell. My new life had begun. I had arrived.

A short older woman opened the door with a welcoming smile. “Hello, Anita. Welcome.”

I was surprised that she knew who I was.

“Virgie said you had arrived,” she said as she opened the screen door that had been separating us. “Come in. Come in. Virgie said you had a really long journey to get here. I’ve actually never ridden the Greyhound before, but many of my tenants have. I have heard both good and bad stories. Hopefully yours are all good.”

The woman spoke fast. Really fast.

As we entered the foyer, I looked around, taking in all the antiques and the beautiful damask wallpaper. I felt as if I had stepped back in time to an era when people actually cared about the finer details of design.

“Oh, where are my manners? My mother is turning over in her grave right now.” She extended her hand to me. “I’m Marie St. Claire. This is my boarding home, and for as long as you like, your home.”

I took her hand and shook it. “Thank you. It’s so pretty. And what a lovely neighborhood.”

She smiled widely. “Oh, it is. I simply adore it. Though you will see tourists walking up and down the streets and occasionally a tour bus or walking tour guide, but that’s all right by me. I like showing off this beautiful house. Though I do have to keep my landscaper happy. He has his hands full. That’s for sure. Our exterior is important in this neighborhood, so no matter what condition the inside is in, the outside has to shine.”

I glanced around at the immaculate wood floors, the pristine furniture, and I wouldn’t have been able to find a speck of dust had I tried. “The inside is just as beautiful.”

Marie’s eyes lit up. “Aren’t you kind. My mama would be so happy to hear that. She loved this home so much, and her mama loved it before her, and her mama before that. So, it’s in my blood. Tradition.” She glanced down at my luggage and then back at me. “But you must be exhausted and want to settle into your room.”

I nodded. “Yes, it was a long trip.”

She motioned for me to follow her up the large staircase lined with framed black and white pictures of other houses in the Garden District. If I weren’t so tired, I would have wanted to go for a walk and take a look around, but the bed was calling my name. Even though it was midday, I felt as if it were the middle of the night with how tired I was, not to mention the time change.

She pointed to a closed door. “This will be your bathroom. You’ll be sharing with two lovely ladies—Ivy and Marlowe. You will get along with them perfectly. Kinsey and Eris share the other bathroom on the floor. You really will need to talk to them about getting a job. They all work at this exclusive membership club on Toulouse Street which is near Bourbon. I’m sure you have heard of Bourbon Street right?”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s the only thing I really know about New Orleans.”

Marie smirked. “Yes, well that will soon change, and you’ll find out that Bourbon Street is such a small part of all the magic that makes up this city. Anyway, the girls all work at Spiked Roses, and I bet they can get you a job there. Kinsey just recently moved here, and the women hooked her right up. From what they say, there is good money in it.”

“That would be great. I am definitely in need of a job.”

“Well, good. When I see one of them, I will let them know you are interested.” She opened the door to my room with an old skeleton key that she handed over to me. “Here it is. There isn’t air conditioning, which I know can be brutal at times, but there is a fan. The radiator heater is controlled by you, however, so you can at least be as warm as you want. The laundry facilities are downstairs in the basement.” She paused and smiled. “Well, since New Orleans is at sea level, it’s not really a basement, per se, but that’s what we often call the first floor. There are also two large industrial size refrigerators in the kitchen as well as one in the basement. The rule around here is if someone’s name is on it, then it’s off limits. We ask that you are respectful and use your own supplies such as shampoo, toothpaste, detergent and what not. I do provide the cleaning supplies under the sink. I will worry about the upkeep of the house, but it is your responsibility to clean up after yourself in the kitchen and bathrooms.”

I nodded, feeling my eyes growing heavier by the minute. “That sounds fair enough.”

“Rent is due on the 1st, with a $25 late fee if you go past the 5th. You are all paid up until next month. I know you don’t have to, but if you do plan on leaving us, I do like a month’s notice just so I know I have an opening coming available.”

I nodded again, having no idea what or where I would be in one month. I didn’t even know what tomorrow would bring.

“Sorry. I hate saying all that. It makes me feel like a hard ass. But my mama taught me before she passed that the tenants appreciate all the rules and details spelled out for them.”

I gave her a reassuring smile as I looked around the small room. There was a single bed that had an antique iron headboard. Next to it, was, no doubt, another antique nightstand with a beautiful Tiffany style lamp. There was a large dresser with an oval mirror hanging over it. It reminded me of something you would see in the Victorian era. In the far corner of the room was a small roll top desk and chair with another lamp that matched the one on the nightstand. Though the floors were hardwood, a large oriental rug with different shades of burgundy covered a majority of the center of the room. The fan that Marie had mentioned was antique as well and even had rusted blades to add to the effect.

I loved it.

I adored it.

I didn’t feel I deserved such luxury.

“It’s not a big room,” Marie started.

“Oh no! It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect,” I cut in. “I’ve never had a room so nice before.” It was a far cry from my crappy trailer I grew up in.

I don’t know if it was the days of traveling, the complete exhaustion, being overwhelmed with picking up and leaving what I knew so fast, the new city, or what, but tears overflowed from my eyes before I even had a chance to keep them back.

Marie stared at me with an open mouth. “Oh no, are you okay?”

I swiped at my tears, ashamed for my lack of control. “I’m sorry.” I sniffled. “I love the room. I’m just tired I guess. But the room is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“No problem at all. I had the open room, but even if I hadn’t, I would have tried to help. Virgie was a really good friend of my mother. My mama loved that woman.”

“She is an amazing person,” I agreed.

“Well, you go ahead and get settled. Welcome to New Orleans. I’m here if you have any questions at all. Please don’t be a stranger.”

I nodded and gave a warm smile, still wiping at my eyes with my fingertips. What had gotten into me? I just wanted to crawl into the bed, underneath the beautiful quilt—that no doubt was homemade—and cry myself to sleep. She patted my upper arm and walked out the door, closing it behind her.

And for the first time in days, I was alone. Alone in a city where I only knew of one street. What had Virgie gotten me into?

Kicking off my shoes, I sat on the edge of the bed, still looking around at my surroundings. There were so many details to the room that I wasn’t sure if I would ever see it all. The doorknob was made of glass, the ceiling had decorative plaster in swirls and circles, and crown moulding ran along the ceiling. The baseboards were extra wide with decorative corner blocks at every wall junction.

Just as I was getting ready to crash, there was a knock on the door. Well, at least Marie was respecting my space and privacy and not just barging in.

“Come in,” I called, not wanting to get off the bed. Physical fatigue had set in just as much as the emotional had.

The door opened and the most exotically stunning woman I had ever seen entered the room. Deep, rich, brown eyes and nearly black hair acted like a beacon in a storm. I didn’t swing that way, but this woman was enchanting. Her tiny body wore cut off jean shorts with a red tank top. She was tan—naturally tan. She was muscular—not naturally. No doubt, this woman was a runner. She had the body of a marathon champion. Lean. Toned. Sculpted. Fuck, this woman was mouthwatering. She definitely had the power to convert someone who normally didn’t like women in that way.

“Anita?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Yes,” I said, standing up uncomfortably. I hoped she hadn’t caught me checking her out.

“Marie said you just moved here today.”

I nodded.

“And that you were looking for a job?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She smiled. “Well, if you are interested, I can probably get you in for an interview with the place I work at. They are currently hiring after a big change in staff. I just got another girl who lives here a job there a couple of days ago.”

“I would love that. Thank you,” I said. “Is it a waitress job?”

She shrugged. “Could be. Or cigar girl, or coat check, or whatever the bosses think you should do.”

“I don’t have any experience. I’ve only been a caretaker.”

She smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about that. If you have an open mind, are not shy… or at least can fake not being shy, then you’ll be good.” She looked at me from the face to my feet. “You’re pretty. That’s important.”

Warning bells went off in my head. “What kind of place is this?” What did it matter what I looked like?

“It’s called Spiked Roses. It’s a men’s club. No women unless you work there. An exclusive one. Only the wealthiest men can be members.”

“A strip club?” I asked, wondering how I could turn her down without insulting her for choosing to be a stripper. I wasn’t interested in taking off my clothes and working a pole. At least I didn’t think I would be. The truth of the matter was, I didn’t exactly have a lot of options.

She shook her head and giggled. “No. Not a strip club. But it’s not your typical bar. Try to picture the richest fucks in the world who can get whatever they want. Whatever they want. Spiked Roses caters to them.” She ran her fingers through her thick hair and added, “The money is pretty good. The tips are awesome, and there are other ways to make even more money if you want.”

“What do you mean?” Again, the warning bells banged in my head and even moved to my heart. This beautiful woman before me looked too innocent and perfect to be involved in something shady, but I still felt there was something more sinister about this place that she wasn’t telling me.

She shrugged. “I’ll set up an interview for tonight and you can ask Mr. Saxon for yourself. I’m not sure it’s my story to tell.”

“Tonight?” I was so freakin’ tired. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk let alone get dolled up for an interview.

“Yeah, you better act fast while they are still hiring. Word is getting around about the money and perks.” She looked at my bed. “Take a nap and rest up. You can come in with me tonight. I start at eight, and I’m sure Mr. Saxon will be there. He’s always there. But I’ll call and tell him I’m bringing you in with me. He’s a pretty cool guy. A tight ass, and a real asshole sometimes, but fair. And he’s hired everyone I have brought in, so I think you are good. And if he’s not there, one of the other bosses will be.”

I nodded and instantly thought about how I should dress. I had nothing that was professional, or luxurious, or fitting of an exclusive club for rich men. “What should I wear?”

“Black. Wear something black and sexy. Do you have a little black dress? Mr. Saxon loves little black dresses. It’s a joke among the women that if you get in trouble and called into his office, just wear a black dress and you are off the hook.”

“I don’t have a black dress.” My cheeks heated, and I wanted to crawl back to my piece of shit trailer in Nevada. Who was I to think I could keep up with people like this woman?

She looked at my body again, her big eyes taking me in. “No worries. I have something you can wear. What size shoe do you wear?”

“Seven.”

“Well, I wear seven and a half, so you can borrow a pair of my heels too. Don’t worry about it. If you get hired, they have uniforms for the girls and provide everything you’ll need.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you.” For the first time since she walked into the room, I walked over and offered my hand. “I’m Anita Kyle.”

She took my hand and shook it. Her palm was silky smooth, as I had no doubt the rest of her body was. “Marlowe Masters.” Wow, even her name was sexy as hell. She turned to walk out of the room. “We’ll leave here to catch the trolley at seven. Cool?”

“Cool.”

“Nice to meet you, Anita. I think you’re going to really like New Orleans.”

God I hoped so. I really did hope so.

“Thank you. It’s pretty. I really like what I have seen so far.”

Her smile fell from her face, and her dark eyes darkened to what almost seemed black. Haunting. Marlowe seemed to morph into a ghost before my eyes. Lifeless almost. “It’s ugly too. It’s fucking ugly when it wants to be. This city can eat you alive.” She seemed to go off in thought but then seemed to snap back to the friendly woman who had walked through my door just as fast. “But yeah, hopefully you like NOLA. The city either loves you, or it beats you.”

I swallowed hard and said nothing. I didn’t want to be beaten.

Her smile returned. “See you at seven.”

Chapter Five

Kenneth

“Come in,” I said, anxious to get the interview over with. I had grown to resent the fact that I was such a control freak. I utilized the HR manager to some degree, but not nearly as much as I should have. Matthew had also helped in hiring the new staff, but the other members showed no interest at all. They could give a fuck less who poured and served the drinks. But my controlling ass was stupid enough to head this up.

The door to the office opened and a scared shitless girl tentatively walked into the room. That was a good sign and a point for her.

Fear. I liked fear.

I hated the women who walked in with overinflated egos and thought they were the shit. If I sensed even the slightest bit of ego or arrogance, I ended the interview before they could even tell me their name.

When the scared young woman didn’t enter all the way, but waited for some sort of guidance, I signaled for her to enter and sit down in the chair in front of me. She did so, appearing as if she were going to drop dead of a heart attack any minute. She was wearing a little black dress which had my eyes scanning her body immediately. Tiny, toned, and tattooed. Really tattooed. Not just a small tattoo here or there, but the entire right side of her arm was nearly completely covered in decorative ink. This level of artwork took commitment and time, and wasn’t just a drunken night or quick act of rebellion. I liked it. I liked the dedication it took.

“Have a seat,” I said, looking at my pile of papers to try to find the note where I had written her name when Marlowe had told me she had another friend interested in working for us. Giving up on finding it in the pile of papers on my desk, I asked, “Name?”

“Anita Kyle, sir.”

Good, I liked that she called me “sir” and showed respect. Very few women called me sir. It was archaic, maybe, but still something I demanded from my staff. It was hard to get the women who interviewed to realize that working at Spiked Roses would mean a lot of biting tongues and saying “yes, sir” to the members, so to see that this Anita Kyle was doing it from the very beginning, pleased me.

“Marlowe told me you just moved to New Orleans and are looking for work.”

“Yes, sir. I just moved here today.”

“From where?”

“Muckaluk, Nevada.”

“Where is that?”

“Nowhere. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

The girl intrigued me. She wasn’t rambling like most women did who were nervous or trying to impress. She wasn’t going off on weird tangents nor trying to impress me with her wit and charm—or lack of.

“So why do you want to work at Spiked Roses?”

She sat there in silence for an awkward amount of time. So much so, that I almost asked the question again in case she somehow didn’t hear me.

“I’m not sure how you want me to answer that,” she said, looking me straight in the eye.

“With the truth. I prefer honesty over all else.”

She licked her lips nervously but never broke eye contact. “I’m not sure that I do want the job. But it sort of landed in my lap, and I don’t really have any other options at the moment.” She took a deep breath, and I struggled not to smile. The girl had balls. “I don’t even really understand what this place is or what I will be doing to be honest.”

“Fair enough,” I began, still looking into her big brown eyes. “I’m sure Marlowe told you that we are a members-only men’s club. A place for men to gather, drink, conduct business, have a good meal, a good cigar, and good scenery.”

One eyebrow rose on her delicate face. “Marlowe said it wasn’t a strip club.”

“It’s not. Far from it. Our women are in uniform. We have two kinds. One uniform is a red lace dress accentuated with diamonds. The other uniform is a black leather leotard with a collar and a chain that can be hooked to the tables or the chairs.”

Her mouth opened, and her eyes grew even bigger than they had been. She was naïve. The thought of a collar and chain threw her for a loop. I could see this, but she didn’t want me to know. She was trying to hide that fact.

“But our staff are fully clothed and remain that way unless The Tasting Room is having a certain theme that dictates something different.”

“The Tasting Room?”

“Marlowe didn’t tell you about The Tasting Room?” I found this fact surprising. The Tasting Room parties had quite the reputation in New Orleans, and many women tried to get a job at Spiked Roses just for a chance to work one of the parties. The money was huge, and at times, life-altering huge. So the fact that Anita didn’t know what I was talking about threw me for my own loop.

She shook her head. “She said the details of this place were your story to tell.”

“So you came here to be a waitress? Just a waitress? Without knowing anything about the club?” Again, I found this unbelievable.

The girls who walked through my door knew damn well what The Tasting Room was all about and what it had in store. Every single one of them was willing to start off being a waitress, but only for a chance to work one of the parties eventually. Those women came in wanting the job badly. So badly, that if I really wanted to, I could have had a blowjob in exchange for hiring papers any time I wanted. But Anita seemed different. She wanted the job, maybe even needed the job, but it was just because it was a job, period. I had the feeling she would have taken any waitress job at this point—Spiked Roses or not.

“Or a cigar girl.”

“Cigar sommelier,” I corrected. “In The Humidor Room.”

Her blank stare told me she had no idea what I was talking about.

“What’s your favorite drink, Miss Kyle?” I had no idea why I was asking the question, but I liked how closed she was and asking her these questions would throw her off. And the sick bastard that I was wanted to break that cold exterior.

“Jack and Coke.”

“A whiskey girl? Have you ever had good whiskey? Something besides Jack?”

Again, she was silent.

“Anita?”

“Well, the truth is”—she gave a soft smile—“that until you just told me Jack was whiskey, I had no idea. I thought it was just Jack. That it was its own alcohol. I didn’t realize it was whiskey. So no, I have never had good whiskey, because I didn’t even know I had whiskey at all before just now.” Her cheeks pinkened, but she still held her eyes to mine.

I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. Not one single interview I had done—and I had done a shitload—entertained me as much as this woman did. I couldn’t read her at all. She was a closed book, and I wanted to crack the spine and read the pages. I thought for sure she would have said champagne or white wine. Even the Jack and Coke didn’t surprise me, but the fact that she actually admitted to having no idea that Jack was whiskey amused me.

“So let me tell you a little about Spiked Roses. A few friends of mine and I opened it about a year ago. We were tired of what the other membership clubs had to offer, and all their blueblood and ancient rules. We wanted something different. Customer service is our number one focus. We don’t believe in the word no. You will be dealing with extremely powerful men who will have very high expectations, and it will be your job to meet them. It’s not an easy job, and the men can be real assholes if you’re lucky, and monsters if you aren’t. Will you be able to check your ego, judgment, morals, and even pride at the door?”

“Deceptive coated smiles,” she said, which gave me pause.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Yes. You are asking for deceptive coated smiles. I can deliver that.”

Damn. I don’t know why I liked that answer so much, but I fucking did.

“Good. Spiked Roses is different than other bars in the French Quarter. You have to be a member and a male, and membership isn’t something you can obtain easily. Yes, the outside façade has the typical New Orleans banners of green, purple, and yellow, but once you come in, the colors are red and black. When my partners and I found this place, we knew it was perfect. It was known for ages by the locals as an abattoir which is another way of saying a slaughter house because of its gory history. Gruesome murders that occurred in 1892 by one of the worst serial killers in New Orleans history occurred right where you are sitting.”

Her eyes opened wider, and I could tell this little tidbit of information intrigued her, so I continued. I had always found the dark history of Spiked Roses fascinating as well. I always made the telling of the history as part of the interview, because I wanted each staff person to know it in case members asked or at the very least to give our ladies something to engage in interesting conversation with if the need arose.

“The serial killer murdered twenty-two women—or at least that is how many bodies were eventually found. He would stab spikes in their hearts and cover their bodies in roses before burying them in black bags beneath the floorboards of this building. It was said that the killer would use the roses to help conceal the smell when the bodies began to rot.” I paused so the information could soak in before continuing. “We considered calling the club The Abattoir, but finally believed that not enough clients would truly understand what that even means. So Spiked Roses was born from the tales of the gruesome deaths and their burials.”

“I love it,” she said quietly. “What an amazing piece of history.”

This was the most she had shown me of her personality since she’d walked through the door. There was more life in her eyes, as we spoke about death.

Interesting.

She enjoyed the story. Whether it was the dark nature of it or the historical element, I wasn’t sure. Regardless of why, I finally saw a spark in what had been pretty hollow eyes.

“So let’s talk about the tattoos,” I said.

She glanced down at her exposed arm and then back at me.

“How many more do you have?”

“They go down most of my right side. Down my ribcage and all the way to the top of my thigh.”

I looked at her arms. “I see flowers. Is that what the rest of the tattoos are?”

She nodded.

“Generally at Spiked Roses, we like our women to be a little more… delicate. Delicate flowers I suppose you could say.”

Without even the slightest hesitation, she countered, “I’m a delicate flower who happens to like the fucking thorns.” She gave a seductive smile that actually had my cock twitch in response.

Who the hell was this woman? She was very cool and collected, and yet so very naïve. Parts of her were hard, and I could easily see parts of her were soft. She was a jagged edge that I wanted to touch, even if it meant making me bleed.

I knew our members would find her as intriguing as I did.

“All right. Consider yourself hired. I’m going to place you in The Humidor Room.” I looked at her and gave her a wink. “The cigar room. It’s a room where we store the finest cigars in the world for our clients. You will oversee the keeps which are climate-controlled cedar lockers. Each keep has the member’s name on it in gold lettering. The temperature is always maintained at sixty-eight degrees and the humidity at sixty-eight percent.” I paused and studied her expression. She was thinking. I could see it. Memorizing what I was saying. “Don’t worry, you will be trained on all this. But it is extremely important that you do not wear any type of perfume at all. It can pollute the air and contaminate the cigars. I’m a huge stickler on this one as are other Spiked Roses members.”

“I understand. I don’t wear perfume anyway, so that won’t be an issue.”

“The cigar sommeliers do not make as much as the waitresses do because of the tips. But if you prove your worth, you will be moved to waitressing. And then, of course, there is The Tasting Room.”

“What is The Tasting Room?”

“Behind the double red doors of the room is where Spiked Roses holds sex parties of sorts—though no sex actually happens in the room. It’s just the room where the meet and greet and negotiations occur. Each party is a different theme with different events happening. Signing of contracts are done in The Tasting Room that can be very beneficial for the members, and very lucrative for the staff. It is not a requirement for working at Spiked Roses to enter The Tasting Room, nor is it a given that you will be chosen to attend a tasting. Tennessee makes the decision on who gets to attend.”

“Tennessee?”

“Tennessee Charles will be your direct supervisor. He’s the house mum,” I said with a smile, trying not to chuckle at my dig at his role. Tennessee hated when I called him that, but I couldn’t help myself sometimes. “It’s his job to oversee all the women, the schedules, the costume fittings and alterations, and the invite list for The Tasting Room. I’ll be introducing you to him after we are through here. He’ll be giving you your schedule and training you. I’m assuming you can start right away?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for giving me the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

I nodded. “You’ll do fine here if you follow the rules and keep your nose clean. Tennessee will go over all the small details, but the rules are simple. No drugs of any kind. If you are high, you are unemployed. If I see track marks on your arms, you will be looking for a new job.”

“I don’t do drugs,” she interjected.

“You are also not to sleep with any of the members unless a contract is in place. I don’t believe in love, so don’t give me some sob story that it’s meant to be and you couldn’t help it and all that nonsense.”

“So the contracts you mentioned in The Tasting Room are to have sex?”

Anita didn’t seem appalled or offended, but generally curious.

“They can be. Not always. Again, it depends on the theme of the night. Sometimes no sex at all is involved. Often times it is simply a contract to engage in one fetish or another.” I paused and tried to read her face, her eyes, anything. I couldn’t tell what the woman was thinking. “But like I said, working The Tasting Room is optional, and not always a guarantee. But when or if it happens, Tennessee goes over all the details of the contract and what is expected clearly. So, you don’t need to concern yourself with all that until then. For now, worry about cigars.”

“Will I need to learn about cigars? Like what are good or bad?”

I stood up, walked around the desk, and extended my hand to assist Anita out of her chair. “Just look pretty, Miss Kyle. Smile, flirt, charm, work your magic, and never say no.”

Taking my hand, she stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Saxon. I really appreciate it.”

“Let’s get you settled in with Tennessee in the back room so he can get you in uniform and start training you.”

Anita’s scent wafted past me, and my mouth watered. For someone who didn’t wear perfume… damn the girl was intoxicating.

Chapter Six

Anita

“Girl, look at you,” a man with a very thick southern accent said. “Aren’t you a pretty walking canvas. All those pretty tattoos make you pop. Pop, I tell ya.”

Mr. Saxon guided me into a large room with makeup stations and mirrors lining every inch of the walls. It reminded me of something that would be backstage of a large Broadway musical in New York. “This is Tennessee Charles. Tennessee, this is Anita Kyle. I just hired Anita to work as a sommelier.”

I extended my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Charles.”

“Oh, child, call me Tennessee. My pappy was Mr. Charles and was a real son-of-a-bitch. Lucky for everyone who knew him, he’s rotting in the ground in Mississippi with a cheap ass headstone marker that his even cheaper good-for-nothing faggot of a son bought him. He’s just lucky I didn’t make it pink to spite the fucker.”

I nodded calmly, trying not to show that the man’s flamboyance and loud voice unnerved me. “Nice to meet you, Tennessee.”

Tennessee Charles was no doubt a walking character. The type of person you always saw in movies and wished to someday encounter but wondered if truly existed – like unicorns.

Well this unicorn existed.

He wore a cobalt blue smoking jacket with a cravat tied perfectly at his neck. The ivory-colored silk material had tiny blue diamonds spattered along the material that matched the jacket perfectly. He had gray pinstriped slacks that fit his body a bit tighter than most men wore their pants, but they accentuated the muscles in his legs. His shoes were blue velvet loafers the exact same hue as his jacket. His style was by far the most eccentric I had seen, and yet, still very sophisticated. His blond hair was combed to the side and slicked down which seemed to add age to his boyish face. I couldn’t exactly pin point how old he was. His style aged him, and yet his face and his hair, which lacked any gray strands, betrayed the older energy he gave off.

“I would like her uniformed in black,” Mr. Saxon directed.

Tennessee examined my body with squinted eyes. “I’m not sure, Kenneth. All those colorful tattoos could really make the red lace and diamonds sparkle. She’s like a rainbow, and there is no black in a rainbow.” He crossed his arms and took a few steps back to examine me further. “And I tend to put the sommeliers in the red uniform. Something about a woman in diamonds and lace delivering a cigar is just plain delicious.”

“No. I want her in black,” Mr. Saxon said again. “She herself said that she is a delicate flower who likes the fucking thorns. So in Anita Kyle’s rainbow… there is a shitload of black.” He turned to me and smirked. “Isn’t that right, Miss Kyle?”

I smiled, but my face heated as Tennessee released a big belly laugh. I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that in an interview. Why I got hired anyway, I had no idea.

“Oh lordy, lordy. We got a little spitfire here, I see.” Tennessee nodded when he finally stopped laughing. “Black it is. With a collar for our little thorn here.”

Without saying another word, Mr. Saxon turned and left the room, leaving me standing with my new direct supervisor and his blue suede shoes, not sure what the hell I’d gotten myself into. I was going to be handing cigars to billionaires while wearing a black leather leotard and collar. And The Tasting Room? What the fuck was The Tasting Room? I still wasn’t grasping the entire concept fully.

“All right, girl, follow me. I think I have a black uniform that will fit you perfectly. I may have to do a couple of take ins, but I doubt it. You most certainly are a tiny little thing.” He led me to a long metal rack that had several black leotards as well as long and short red lace dresses. “I can’t believe you cussed in your interview,” Tennessee added as he was sorting through the clothing. “That took some serious balls. Kenneth Saxon is a no nonsense man and puts up with very little. You must have impressed the man for him to look past dropping the f bomb. That man is a perfectionist and expects everything to be proper at all times. In control.” He shook his head. “The man could do with a good removal of that stick up his ass, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Tennessee gave me a wink. “He can be a real bastard. Just fair warning.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so fuc—I was just so nervous. I’ve only had one interview before in my life, and I had no idea what to say or do. He made me nervous. I felt like he was staring right through me.”

“Oh, he was reading you. No doubt about that. He’s a huge corporate attorney and has made millions with that supernatural power of his. So whatever he was reading on your hidden little pages, he liked.”

“I don’t know how. I barely spoke. I tried to sound smart, mature, worldly, and fucked that up big time.” I placed my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry for cussing. I’m so nervous. I guess I cuss when I’m nervous. Just ignore me. I’m a disaster.”

Tennessee laughed and held a leotard up to my body, shook his head and kept looking through the rack. “Well, whatever you did, girl, landed you the job. And a good one too. He usually places the new girls in the kitchen or in housekeeping to prove themselves first. So, the fact that you are working the floor right off the bat is a good thing for you. Be proud of yourself.”

Knowing this little bit of information made me feel really good. I was pretty sure I had bombed it, and that Mr. Saxon hated me. But regardless, I had a job. I had a job in New Orleans on my first day. I couldn’t wait to tell Virgie all about it. She would be so proud of me. I’m not sure she would approve of The Tasting Room, though I wasn’t sure if I approved. I actually didn’t truly grasp what it was. Mr. Saxon seemed pretty tight-lipped about it, only telling me the very basics.

Tennessee held up another leotard to my chest with a satisfying nod. “Go ahead and try this on.”

I looked around for a door to a changing room, but there was only the one that Mr. Saxon and I entered.

“Girl, don’t be bashful now. You better get over that fast. And don’t you worry about me seeing that coochy of yours. Your juicys aren’t anything I want to sample. Your coochy and boobies are safe in my presence, I assure you.” When I didn’t move right away, he said, “Come on. I don’t have all day. We need to get you on the floor before Kenneth shits a brick.”

I loved the thickness of his accent. It gave him so much character and made even inappropriate words like boobies sound floral coming from his lips. I had a feeling I was really going to like this man, regardless if he was my supervisor or not. He seemed like he kept the energy up and added spice to life at Spiked Roses.

Stripping down, trying not to overthink that I was getting naked and putting on a leotard made out of leather, I quickly pulled on the fishnet stockings first and then the tight little one piece afterward. I couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the path my life just took. One second I was walking along a dirty highway feeling as if my life was about as boring and lifeless as one could get, and the next minute I was in New Orleans pulling on a leather body suit as a gay man named after a state was staring at me so that I could go hand out cigars to men only in the hopes that I could someday be so lucky as to attend a sex party for money. What. The. Fuck.

My giggle turned to a full-blown laugh, and when I saw Tennessee look at me as if I were an alien, I said, “I’m sorry. I just am a little overwhelmed with everything. I have never done anything like this, and well…” I kept laughing. “I’m sorry.”

He patted my arm before he walked over to a shelf where black pumps were neatly lined up, and said, “Size?”

“Seven.” I had somehow contained my laughter, but it teetered on the surface, threatening to burst from me at any minute.

As Tennessee brought me the shoes and I stepped into them, the door to the room opened and Marlowe entered with two girls following behind. Marlowe was wearing one of the red lace gowns that was see through in many areas, but delicately covered her nipples and lower half, but was, by far, the sexiest dress I had ever seen on someone. The fabric went down to her ankles but was slit up to her upper thigh. Behind her, there were two other women also in Spiked Roses wear. One was wearing a black leather uniform like the one I now wore, and another had red lace like Marlowe, but a shorter version that rested right above her knees.

“You got the job!” Marlowe said excitedly. She stepped aside so the other women could see me and introduced us. “This is Anita Kyle. She just moved into Marie St. Claire’s and obviously landed the job today.” She pointed to the brunette in black leather and said, “This is Ivy,” she pointed to the woman in red, “and this is Kinsey. They also live at Marie’s.”

I stepped forward, shook both of their hands, and tried to give the warmest smile I could. I didn’t have friends my age in Muckaluk. I only had two friends and those were Virgie and Roy. One of which I worked for, and the other one I paid in beer to tattoo me. So, I’m not sure they really counted. But this was my chance to have somewhat of a normal social life with women. I just hoped I wouldn’t fuck it up.

“You look great in that,” Ivy said. “You are going to fit in perfectly at Spiked Roses.”

I hoped so. Even though I really didn’t know what fitting in really meant. I did really hope so.

Chapter Seven

Anita

Dear Virgie,

Sorry it has been a few days since I wrote you last. I have been so incredibly busy since arriving in New Orleans. You were right when you said I would love it here. I do. So much so. There are trees! I know how that might sound hearing me say that that is one of my favorite parts of this city, but it is. Muckaluk didn’t have trees. Nowhere around us had trees, and yet there are so many here. And they are huge, lush, and green. I’m in love with the surroundings, and it almost feels as if I can breathe better. The air is wet, soothing, and brings life to my dried up insides.

I really like living at Marie St. Claire’s. She is really nice, and so are all the other women who live here. They have even taken me out and showed me the town. I have friends. It’s odd, but I like it. They also have shown me the ropes around my new place of employment called Spiked Roses.

I don’t know how to accurately describe this place to you without giving you a heart attack and hopping on the next bus to come fetch me and take me home. It is a members-only club for wealthy men. They come to drink, smoke, conduct business, and look at the pretty ladies who serve them. I got hired as the cigar girl, so I basically bring the men their cigars from their own private keeps. I also walk around the room with a tray of cigars that cost more than my monthly rent and sell them. Though, no one pays in cash. They just write down their member number. It’s a whole new world here, but I actually enjoy it so far. I got my first paycheck which wasn’t a full one, and I was really happy. If I keep making this kind of money, then I will be able to afford a plane ticket for you to come see me soon. It will be my gift to you, which will be nothing compared to the gift you gave me.

I think I’m doing a good job. My direct supervisor Tennessee Charles—yes, that is his real name—tells me I am learning quickly and will be ready to move up to waitressing soon. That is where the real money is, they say. There are several owners of the club who are all my bosses, but the only one that I really ever see is Kenneth Saxon. I can’t tell if he likes me or not. I catch him staring at me, and I know he is watching, waiting for me to mess up. When his eyes are on me, I shake the tray of cigars no matter how steady I try to be. He rarely speaks to me, but every time I see him standing in the shadows, or sitting in a leather chair sipping on his ridiculously priced whiskeys, he is watching me. And the truth of the matter—which I will only confess to you—is that the man is so freakin’ handsome. The type of handsome that is like a punch to the gut every time you look at him. He has dark hair, dark eyes, and wears a suit. He always wears a suit! I can tell the suit is expensive, and I’ve been tempted to touch it just to see what it feels like. And when he looks at me, I almost feel as if he is undressing me with his eyes. I don’t think I will ever get used to it. The other girls say they don’t notice him doing that, but I do. I see it all the time. I just hope he doesn’t fire me.

There is one thing that may make you think I have lost my mind working at Spiked Roses. They have a room called The Tasting Room. I’ve never been in it… but I want to. I’m curious even though I know it killed the cat. I want to see what happens. The other girls told me that the wealthy men go into the room with the intent of leaving it with one of the staff by their side. A contract happens. A contract stating that the man owns the woman for a day, a weekend, or whatever time is dictated in the contract. The woman agrees to do whatever the man says and it is all spelled out in the contract. I don’t really know what that means. When I asked if it was sex, the girls told me sometimes but not always. One girl got bought for a night and had to dress up like a little girl and call the man Daddy. Another girl said she was tied up and flogged, bathed, then flogged again. I suppose it could be called prostitution, but many of the girls who have worked a tasting say it is not. They said it is sexual play. Sexual fantasies. And the payday is huge. Sometimes life altering huge. Some girls will do one night in The Tasting Room and never return to waitressing again. I mean… can you imagine making so much money in a day or two that you don’t have to work again?

Now before you stroke out, Virgie, I haven’t done a tasting, and not sure I will. I’m curious, but I’m not sure I have the balls. And if I do, I won’t have sex. I don’t know. I’m all over the place on my thoughts in regards to this. I guess this conversation is a “to be continued”.

But I am doing really good! I’m happy, healthy, and surviving a big new world. I miss you like crazy and will be calling you soon. I know you wanted letters, and that was part of the deal, but I still want to hear your voice.

Love you.

~Anita

P.S. You better be taking your medications and staying away from the popcorn and soda.

As I walked down the stairs to mail out the letter, Marie caught me in the hallway. “Anita,” she said with worry in her eyes. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“What’s wrong?” My heart stopped. I sensed bad news was coming.

“It’s Virgie.”

“What? What’s wrong with her?” Ringing banged in my ears, and my knees wobbled. I had a cell phone. Why didn’t I get a call on my cell phone? Something bad must have happened.

“I don’t know. I got a call from Elko Regency Nursing Home looking for you. They must have had this number from Virgie. They wouldn’t give me any information, but I took down their number to go find you. I didn’t know you were home yet.”

“Did they say if Virgie was okay?”

She shook her head. “No. They wouldn’t tell me a thing.” She handed me a piece of paper with a number on it. “But call this. They said Virgie put down your name as her daughter. So you better play along to get the information you want.”

I took the paper from her shaking hand, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and dialed the number without even going outside or upstairs. I knew Marie wanted to know the news just as much as I did. After several minutes of being on hold, lying that I was Virgie’s daughter to more than one person, and waiting for what felt like an ungodly amount of time, I finally heard the sweet voice of my dear friend.

“Hello?”

“Virgie! It’s Anita. What’s going on? Why are you at Elko Regency?”

“Oh, Anita! I’m so happy to hear from you. Can you believe these assholes put me here?”

“Are you all right? Did you fall? Are you sick?”

“No. That damn Pine-Sol smelling nurse made some report that I needed more care. She used the term 24hr care, and it landed me in this joint. I’ve been trying to break out, but the doctors tell me my insurance will only pay for part-time nursing. Not 24hr. So the only way I can get the amount of care needed is by living in a goddamn nursing home.”

I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew this was Virgie’s worst nightmare. She wanted to die in her home. Her house was all that mattered to her anymore.

“Oh no. They can’t do this.”

“I’m working with a sweet social worker who is trying to help me. Or so she says,” Virgie said. “But I put down your name as my next of kin in the paperwork. I didn’t know they would call you. I didn’t want them to. The last thing you need is to worry about my old ass. I’ll get this taken care of one way or another.”

“Of course they should have called me!” I snapped between clenched teeth. “You should have called me the minute this happened. I’ll hop on the next bus and get you out of—”

“No, you will not!” Virgie shouted over the phone line. “Over my dead and wrinkled body will I allow that. You will not be my 24hr care no matter what. I would rather lose my house and eat applesauce through a straw wearing a bib in this hellhole before I would allow that to happen. Do you hear me, Anita Kyle? Don’t you dare come here and try to fix this. I have this under control.”

Virgie could be such a stubborn bitch sometimes. I loved her, but her stubbornness often infuriated me. “Fine. Then I will send you the money to hire a full time 24hour nurse.”

Virgie chuckled. “Child, I wish it was as simple as that. I’m not exactly poor, but the prices this social worker is quoting me. Who in the world can afford one without insurance?”

“So what are you planning to do?”

“Luckily my husband was a veteran. So the social worker is trying to get some vet assistance for the spouse through a program called Veteran’s Angels. It’s a ton of paperwork, and my guess is that’s the reason they called you. To ask some questions.”

“How long are you going to be there?” I asked, not liking any of this one bit. Not when I could be back in Muckaluk taking care of her so all this would go away.

“I’m not sure. But I haven’t given up hope. Just be patient and don’t panic. Can you do that for me, Anita? I really don’t want you to come and get me. I swear on the grave of my husband that it would crush me if you did. I don’t want you as my nurse. Can you understand that?”

Tears burned my eyes. “Yes. I understand.” But I didn’t. I didn’t fucking understand a thing. How could this happen? How could they pull a woman out of her own home?

“And where’s my letter?” she asked, and I wanted nothing more than to hug her.

“I just wrote you one. It will be in the mail today.”

“Good.” There was a long moment of silence. “I don’t want you worrying about me. I will get this all sorted out one way or the other. I might be old and frail, but my mind is still in one piece.”

For the first time since knowing Virgie, she was lying to me. I could tell. I could feel it.

“Okay. I will give you one week. But in one week, if you haven’t gotten answers that mean you returning to your home, then I am stepping in.”

Virgie didn’t say anything.

“Virgie? One week. Do you understand?”

“Fine. Give me one week.”

That was all I was going to give her. And in the meantime, I was going to figure out how to make enough money that Virgie would never have to worry about leaving her home again. I owed it to her.

* * *

“All right, ladies, gather around. Tonight’s The Tasting Room. I need to know who’s interested so I can adjust the floor accordingly.”

“What’s the theme?” Ivy asked while she carefully pulled black nylons up her slender legs.

Tennessee gave a sinister smile and chuckle. “We got a real whopper. The theme is Dark as Fuck.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Marlowe asked.

I was glad I wasn’t the only one who had no idea. I didn’t want to be the stupid girl who asked if that meant that we would have to fuck men in the dark. Was that really so bad? At least I wouldn’t have to see their face. Marlowe, Kinsey and Ivy had told me these Tasting Room parties were really kinky and dirty. This one sounded pretty tame in comparison to some of their stories.

“It means the money is going to be really fucking good,” Tennessee said. “Dark means money. Always does. But it isn’t going to be for everyone.” He looked down at the piece of paper. “No sex required on this contract. Just dark fantasies.” He paused to read, then added, “Some really fucking dark fantasies. Lordy, lordy.”

“Yeah, but how dark are we talking here?” Marlowe asked again. “Kidnap fantasy?”

Tennessee brought the paper closer to his face so he could read the description out loud. “Nonconsensual elements such as spanking, breath play, knife play, golden showers, pet play, and other sadomasochistic elements. No permanent physical harm, and no sexual intercourse. Tools of trade that could be used will include: butt plugs, anal dildos, anal beads, anal plugs with tails, ball gags, collars, leashes, cages, whips, chains, floggers, nipple and clit clamps, leather restraints,” he looked up from the contract and made eye contact with some of us, “shall I go on?” When no one said anything, he continued. “Participant must be willing to be humiliated, degraded, and treated as a pet or animal if the owner so chooses.”

I had no idea what Tennessee had just said, aside from the spanking part. I looked at Marlowe and then to Ivy to see if they were as confused by the description as I was.

“Oh hell no, that pet play shit is weird. They want to lock you in a cage and throw meat at you and other sick shit. That girl Char who used to work here said that the rich fucker who bought her for the week expected her to pee and poop on newspaper in a cage that she couldn’t even stand in. I kid you not.”

I’m sure my eyes had to be as wide as saucers and my mouth open in stunned silence. Was Ivy for real? Who does that? Who wants to do that?

“Well, the money’s good, girl. Really fucking good. Char doesn’t work here anymore for a reason. She’s one filthy rich bitch now. If those rich fuckers swung my way, I would put a damn collar around my neck and meow all the way until the sun came up. Meow motherfucker, meow,” Tennessee said with a completely serious face. Not even a hint of jest.

“I’m in,” Marlowe said. “You can put me on the list for The Tasting Room.”

Other girls in the room chimed in, with a few raising their hands volunteering. Others shook their heads or said ‘hell no’.

Without even thinking, I raised my hand to volunteer.

Marlowe walked over to me and whispered in my ear, “Honey, I think you should start off with something easier. This shouldn’t be your first Tasting Room experience.”

“I’m in,” I said, ignoring what Marlowe had just whispered in my ear. For some reason, her warning only fueled my curiosity and need to throw my name in. And I had Virgie to think of now. This could be the money that I needed to hire the 24hour care that Elder Protective Services was insisting on.

Tennessee started writing the names down of the five or six girls who’d volunteered and then stopped and looked at me. “I’m not sure, Anita. You just started, and I don’t think tonight should be the popping of your cherry. Dark can be a type of fuckery that takes a certain spine.”

“I can do it,” I assured. “And you said there is a lot of money for Dark As Fuck. And isn’t that the reason we are all here? Money?” I straightened my shoulders to help strengthen my resolve. And you said there is no sex involved, so wouldn’t this be an easy one for my first time? I’m in. Put my name on the list. Please.”

Marlowe shook her head. “You need to trust me. I went to one of these themed nights before. The men who want these contracts have expectations that even your most shadowed thoughts can’t comprehend. I mean it, Anita. Unless you have sampled this kind of dark, I really wouldn’t do this.”

“I can do dark.” And I really believed I could. I liked the idea of not actually having to have sex with these men, which really had been my hang up. I couldn’t get past the belief that if I had sex, I would be a prostitute. But this was different. I just had to play a role. I could play anything they wanted if it didn’t involve their penis in my vagina. I had already been chained to a table, swatted on the ass by men who had too much to drink, and had used the term “sir” as often as I breathed, so really how hard could this be?

“You’re crazy, Anita,” Ivy said. “Are you prepared to shit on a newspaper while you are forced to purr? Really?”

I shrugged, careful to hold back any fear or disgust because of what she said. I knew Tennessee was watching me closely. He made the final call, and he could easily decide I was too green and virginal to the sinister ways of The Tasting Room and make me work The Humidor Room instead. But being a cigar girl was not going to help Virgie.

“If the money’s right,” I said with as much bravado as I could muster. And that was the truth. I had heard we were not talking about hundreds of dollars but rather thousands. High thousands. That would be more money than I had ever seen in my life. It would be life changing. And if I attended enough tastings, I could save up enough to make sure Virgie didn’t have to stay in a nursing home ever again. Her news rattled me. I know she said she was going to be okay, but I also knew how frail she was. She needed a full-time nurse, and those weren’t cheap. But her house was everything to her. I couldn’t stand the thought of her losing it. And if I kept the safe job of cigar girl, I would be able to stay at Marie St. Claire’s comfortably, but that was about it. I needed more. I needed The Tasting Room.

Tennessee crossed his arms with skepticism washed all over his face. “If I allow this, you better not fuck up. I can’t have you breaking down and crying like a little girl in there… unless the rich fucks want you to, that is.”

“I won’t,” I assured. “Or I will, if they want.” I was breaking down his wall. I could feel it. And the thought of having all that money in my pocket fueled me. “I’m not as innocent as you think.”

Tennessee smirked. “You will read the contract carefully. And I mean carefully. If you feel you can’t do something, you need to negotiate it out of the contract right away. When I allow you to leave with the buyer, I need to be damn sure that you are going into the situation with your eyes completely wide open and consensually entering the darkness.”

It sounded so ominous, but I nodded and smiled. “I promise. I won’t sign anything without knowing and understanding what I am agreeing to.”

“Fine,” Tennessee said. “Don’t make me regret this.” He turned to the rest of the girls. “All right, the rest of you get to work and cover the empty spots. The Tasting Room girls need to get ready and meet me upstairs in thirty minutes.” Everyone scattered around, eager to start their nights. No work, meant no money.

Marlowe took me by the hand and stared at me once Tennessee walked away and busied himself with other things. “I really think this is a bad idea. Why don’t you wait until the next tasting? They come really fast. You will only have to wait a couple of days. A week tops. There will be tastings that aren’t this dark.”

“I got this.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do.”

“You’re doing it. Why are you doing this tasting if it’s as bad as you are making it sound?”

“Because I’ve been to The Tasting Room to begin with. And because I have experimented and been open minded to more things than you. I’m not buying your I’m not innocent act for one second. I’m telling you that The Tasting Room is no joke. It’s hard as fuck and will change a woman. You can’t go in and think it won’t.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I want that?” I asked. “That maybe that is exactly what I want? I’ve been wanting something… anything at all to change me. I need a fucking change.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Marlowe said, shaking her head. “There are some things that you can’t unchange. Just remember that.” She glanced at Tennessee to see if he was listening, and when she noticed that he was out of earshot, she added, “Do not sign that contract if for even a second the warning bells in your gut go off. Some of the men—most of the men—who attend The Tasting Room are harmless. Some are very decent and kind men who have a kinky or darker side. But there are a few who are mean motherfuckers. Fucked up more than you can imagine. You do not have to go with just anyone. If you don’t like him, or he gives you a bad vibe, you walk away.” Her face grew extremely serious. “You walk the fuck away. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, trying to not show that her words sent a shiver down my spine. “I will.”

Her eyes darkened, and in a very monotone voice, she said, “No, I don’t think you will.”

Chapter Eight

Kenneth

What the fuck was she doing in here? Anita hadn’t even worked a month yet, and hadn’t been moved to waitress. She was a goddamned infant, and Tennessee had the nerve to allow her in The Tasting Room already. And on a night like tonight? I was spitting mad and seeing red. If it weren’t for the fact that Tennessee ran a tight ship and kept all the girls in line, and Spiked Roses had truly benefitted since hiring him, I would have fired his ass right there on the spot. Goddamn idiot. What the fuck was he thinking?

But here Anita was, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Removing her from the room would draw attention, and it also appeared that Tennessee didn’t have the same number of women attending as he usually did for the other tastings. But considering the theme, I didn’t blame the women one bit. It was a night that would push most boundaries.

Which was why Anita Kyle—our freakin’ baby—didn’t need to be here. She was just starting to learn how to walk in our world at Spiked Roses. Now she was about to enter a full on sprint for her life.

There were ten men in the room tonight, and for some unknown reason, it drove me crazy picturing Anita with any one of them. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t fucking ready. Why in the hell did Tennessee not see that?

I grabbed a glass of whiskey and walked over toward the window, making myself inconspicuous near the long velvet red curtains, observing the room. The men were in tuxedos, exuding wealth from their pores. The women were draped in silks and satins, exuding desperation and need for something better, something more exciting, something different than what they currently had.

Some of these men were real pricks, and my anger sizzled beneath the surface just knowing they were in the room. My hope was that one of the Spiked Roses owners would find Anita interesting and contract her, rather than some of these men stalking around the room, hunting their prey. Maybe I could convince Harley or Victor to contract her. Feed them some line about having to sample the goods or something. At least then I would know that Anita wouldn’t end up with the likes of some of these dicks. We had mobsters, killers, and men I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of the table from, mingling about. For some reason, this tasting seemed to bring out the darkest of souls.

Tennessee walked over to me. He shouldn’t have. I was not approachable, but I also didn’t expect Tennessee to see that. I was the one who read people. And right now, I could read in the eyes of many that they all saw Anita.

She intrigued them.

Fresh blood in the water.

“You look pissed, Kenneth.”

“Why in the hell would you allow the new girl to be at this tasting? It’s too much.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to, but she insisted. And frankly, I think there is some darkness in that girl’s soul. Didn’t you tell me she likes the thorns? This might be right up her alley.”

“No.”

Tennessee looked at me confused. “Do you want me to escort her out?”

I looked over at where she stood, in a long silk black dress—The Tasting Room attire for the event. She leaned up against the vintage wine barrels that we used as tables for the room and sipped from a flute of champagne. Her hands were shaking, but I could see that she was trying to conceal that fact. She kept nibbling her lip and glancing at the double doors as if she was planning her escape.

Yes, she should run. She should run as fast as she could.

I wondered if she felt like the red walls were closing in on her? If the large black vases with spikes jutting out of the glass tempted her to use one for a weapon? Did she want to kick off her pumps and run barefoot along the marble floor so she could flee faster than anyone could catch her? Was this elegant room lit by a large crystal chandelier her dark and dank cell? Did she see the nightmare lurking behind all the red roses?

Her weight shifted from one black heel to the other. Though she stood there with a soft smile on her face, making eye contact with the men who walked around, I could see her body wanted to flee. She was screaming from the inside. I could hear her silent pleas. I could hear them so clearly.

Just as I was about to tell Tennessee to get her the fuck out of there, a man walked up to her.

“Who is that?” I asked Tennessee, trying hard to identify the man wearing the tuxedo.

“Marco Nunez. Head of the Nunez family. They run a large gun ring out of Rome, Venice and New York. He’s in New Orleans for a few weeks, but tonight is his first time at Spiked Roses. He’s using a guest pass to sample us out.”

“How did he get the invite for this tasting?”

“He’s an acquaintance of Harley Crow.”

Of course he was. Harley knew all the assholes.

Marco’s hand touched Anita’s and I wanted to chop it off from his wrist. He was talking to her with a sinister smile, and I could see that whatever he was saying was making Anita even more nervous. Her eyes showed fear, and the way her chest moved revealed she was breathing rapidly. She was a deer caught in the headlights. And now that Marco was over there, touching her, I couldn’t send Harley or Victor to her anyway. Not unless Marco left the wine barrel where they stood. As of right now—per the tasting rules—Marco had claim on her. No one else could cut in unless Marco left to go sample someone else.

Please, motherfucker, go sample someone else.

“Does Anita know the details of the contract? Does she know the term of the contract is for two weeks? Two fucking weeks?” I asked between clenched teeth, fighting the urge to storm over there and break up the little party. Marco wasn’t doing anything wrong or breaking The Tasting Room rules, but I wanted to fucking kill the man. My gut warned me, and my gut was never wrong. But I couldn’t exactly go over there and pull Anita away. I had the club to think about and the other members. A scene of any sort wouldn’t be appropriate or good for business. Especially when the man was doing nothing different than every other man in the room. He was just sampling the goods so to speak.

“Yes. I went over it, and then also gave each of the women the contract to read for themselves before entering. She didn’t as much as blink or hesitate. If I’d sensed she felt she had to do this and was scared shitless, I wouldn’t have allowed it. But, Kenneth, I’m telling you, she wanted to. You wouldn’t think from looking at her, but that girl has some darker tastes.”

I watched, studied Marco’s every move. The bastard wanted her. I could see it in his eyes. If he for even a second walked away to even have a piss, I would swoop in and contract her myself. This wasn’t right. I could feel it. I could see it. I knew it.

Tennessee walked away, leaving me as I stewed and stalked my prey. One move away, and I would strike. One fucking move.

But he never did. He remained.

And then it happened. He motioned for Tennessee to walk over to the wine barrel with the contract. They were about to sign the fucking contract. Tennessee glanced over my way for a split second, but there was nothing I could do. He then glanced at Anita who swallowed hard and glanced at the double red doors one last time before offering a half-hearted smile to Marco and nodded. Marco pulled out a pen from the inside pocket of his tux and signed the contract, then handed the pen to Anita.

She took it with shaky hands. Why the fuck could no one see her hands were shaking?

She signed.

She signed the fucking contract.

Tennessee pulled out a small dagger that we used in The Tasting Room for that special macabre touch, and pricked both Marco’s and Anita’s index finger. And just like that, as both parties stamped their bloody finger next to their signatures… Anita Kyle was bought.

* * *

Anita

I walked into his study, preparing myself for what was going to happen. Marco had a business call he had to make when we arrived in his southern plantation house. A house that reminded me of Gone With The Wind, but one that would house vampires. I pictured the paranormal living in these halls. Evil lurked everywhere. I could feel it.

Marco had been a bastard for making me wait. Wait and think. Wait and fear what would come.

Wait.

But now my fate was set. I didn’t know exactly what was in store, but if I went in expecting a nightmare, I would at least have a shield of some sort. Eyes wide open, even though I wanted to squeeze them shut.

I had always been like that even as a child. I remembered that outside my window a shingle broke loose from the ramshackle of our roof. I hadn’t known it at the time, however, so at night when the desert wind howled across the flat landscape, that damn shingle would bang and scrape on the glass. Being young, my imagination would run wild. Was it a monster? A witch with her bony fingers running along the glass as she cast an evil spell on me? Was it a killer with a clown mask getting ready to kill and torture my tiny body? Whatever it was, it was enough to put me in a panic each night the wind picked up. But I never pulled the covers over my head. I never cried out and called for my pappy or meemaw. I would look at that window and try to figure it out. Face the nightmare head on. I wanted to see my demon. If death was coming, then I wanted to see the blackness of his eyes first.

So, when I knocked on the door and heard Marco’s voice telling me to enter, I was prepared for the worst thing imaginable. He wasn’t going to fuck me. That much was for sure, and that was all I knew because the contract said he couldn’t.

No vaginal penetration by the penis.

I had read those words over and over to be sure. But so many other things were on the table that he could do. That he would do. He was going to want it rough. To make me cry. There would be no kindness. He had signed on to buy an animal.

I was that animal.

He wanted me to be his prey so he could play predator. It was all an act.

Yes, all an act.

If I kept telling myself that this was all an act, then I would survive this. Like a horror movie. It wasn’t real. All make believe. All actors and fake blood. Yes, I had to keep telling myself that.

When I crossed the threshold of the room, I took account of the scene of my own horror flick. Books lined the shelves all around. They even had one of those moving ladders so you could reach the very top. By the huge fireplace sat oversized leather chairs separated by a chess set with intricately carved pieces. Oriental rugs were spread across cherry wood floors, with the largest rug sitting beneath a huge desk. One of those kinds of desks you see in the movies that the rich people always owned. Like the mobsters, or the presidents. The desk was huge. Massive. If it weren’t for what I knew was about to happen in this room, I would have loved it. It smelled of rich tobacco, which oddly reminded me of my pappy’s pipe. Though he smoked nothing that was rich.

“Come in and close the door behind you,” Marco said from behind his desk. He sat on a large leather office chair that reminded me of a king perched on his throne. “Remove your dress, but keep your heels on. I want to see the long, toned curve of your legs.”

I did as he asked, shedding my dress and my undergarments without taking the time to focus on what I was actually doing, and slowly made my way to where he sat, inches from his desk. There were chairs in front of him, but I didn’t dare sit without being told to do so. I was naked and waited for his next command. I knew the only way I would survive these two weeks was by doing exactly as the man asked and desired. I had to check my pride and spine at the door. Hell, I’d checked it the minute I’d pricked my finger and stamped my blood next to my signature.

He got up from his chair, placed his hand on my bare shoulder and pushed me down to my knees. “I like my women broken.”

I stared but said nothing in return.

“I like my women to come to me an empty shell so that I can fill them with all my fucked up darkness.”

Again, I remained silent, but I also didn’t feel he wanted a response.

“Have you ever been beaten?” he asked simply as if that were a normal question to ask.

“No.”

“Have you ever been choked? Pissed on? Locked in a cage?”

“No.”

“Fucked so hard in the ass you have no choice but to scream?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He towered over where I knelt at his feet.

“Is that what you plan to do to me tonight?” I asked in a soft voice. I had to prepare. Steady my terrified soul. I hadn’t even processed what the next two weeks had in store. I had to survive tonight first.

Focus on the end game. Focus on the money. Focus on all it could give Virgie, and all it could give me. I would not be trailer trash any longer. I would not be hungry. I would never need again. Focus. Focus. Focus.

I could do this. I could do this.

I could fucking do this.

“Yes,” he answered frankly. “Though I may not beat you if you do everything I ask, and follow each of my commands the first time. I hate repeating myself.”

I fiddled with my hands in my lap, but I did not cry. I did not plead. I wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of seeing how afraid I was. Though maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he wanted to see my tears and lick them off my face. Maybe by the time the night was over, I would be sobbing and begging for pity.

I could do this. I could do this.

Fuck, what had I done?

I looked up into his pitch black eyes, blanketed with thick lashes. I couldn’t read him. Stone. He was pure stone. He walked over to a window and stared out of it for several long, agonizing moments. Marco’s lack of emotion unnerved me. He seemed angry, though I was giving him no reason to be so.

His action of staring out the window unnerved me. His back was to me. I could escape if I really wanted to. There was enough distance between us. I should get up and leave. I shouldn’t go through with this. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I staying? My brain, reason, and common sense were all battling it out.

How long would I kneel here?

Should I run? I could sense it was going to begin.

He was going to begin. What would he do?

I could feel hell rolling in like a thick fog. It bristled against my nerves. It was coming. It was coming.

Marco stormed over to where I kneeled and grabbed me by the hair, yanking me off the ground and throwing me against the wall. Pictures fell from where they hung, shattering glass all around me.

I gasped, but did not scream. I whimpered, but did not cry. I shook but did not crumple.

He pressed his mouth to mine, thrusting his tobacco-tasting tongue past my lips, tempting me to bite, to shove, to struggle against such an intimate touch. I was prepared to be sexually tormented and treated like an animal, but not a kiss. Don’t fucking kiss me!

He grabbed my breast and broke away from the kiss so I could watch his lecherous expression. He pinched my nipple hard, and waited—staring at me. Was he waiting for a cry, a scream, something I was not willing to give? His pupils dilated and his mouth opened slightly revealing his yellow-stained teeth. He pinched my nipple even harder, showing his determination to hear my cry of pain. He wanted me to hurt. He wanted to hear it, see it.

Feeling as if I were losing this battle, I finally cried out, hating the sound of my weakness.

Satisfied, Marco lowered his hand and pressed his finger into my pussy without any warning at all. My lack of wetness made the invasion painful, and when he forced my legs wider, I cried out again in response. I wasn’t going to survive this. I would lose my fucking mind.

I was a fool for doing this.

I was a fucking fool.

Thrusting his finger up inside me as deeply as he could, he growled, “You should be fucking terrified of what I am going to do to you.” He thrust again, and then again. Each thrust harder than the last. The smell of him, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the way his spittle hit my cheek as he spoke, all brought bile to the back of my throat.

How could I have thought I would maybe even like this? I wanted to walk along the edge of darkness laced with pain, but this was just disgusting. Nothing about this had any erotic element. I was nothing more than a piece of garbage discarded in a decomposing junkyard, and the smell was suffocating.

I cried out loudly—no longer caring about my dignity—with each aggressive movement of his revolting hand. When would this end?

Two weeks.

I would die before the night was over let alone survive two weeks. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this.

I had signed the devil’s contract and stamped it with my blood. I had no one to blame but myself.

With his other hand, Marco grabbed my throat and began to squeeze. “I could kill you right now. If it weren’t for that contract stating no permanent harm could come to you… I could kill you with my bare hands.”

With rage in his eyes, he flipped me around to face the wall.

I cried, I whimpered, but I did not beg. No words could come even if I wanted to. Disgust swallowed me up whole.

He slapped my ass hard, forcing a squeal of pain to burst from my lips.

Taking a hold of my hair again, yanking hard at the scalp, he swatted my ass fiercely again, and then again. Normally, I liked to be spanked. I liked the delightful sting of each erotic swat. But this was different. His palm was like the branding iron marking me forever. Marking me with this nightmare. Destroying me. Ruining any chance of having sexual desire again.

He continued to spank my ass with a brutal force. How his hand could have so much painful strength, I did not know.

I would not win this battle. I was afraid of this man, and he would know it by the time the night was over if he didn’t already see it in my eyes, hear it in my cries. I thought I would be strong, but I failed.

But I held on to one fact. He wanted to break me. And yes, I was broken, but I had been broken long before him. I was nothing more than a million crushed opaque pieces in pitch blackness, and there truly wasn’t enough in me to break any further.

Though he would try. I knew he would try.

Hating myself more with each spank of my ass, I couldn’t take it anymore. And just as I was about to scream for mercy, he shoved me down to the ground, looming over me. “Look at me,” he shouted. “You are mine now. I own you. You are my slave, my pet, my animal to do with as I please. Do you understand that?”

I stared up at him, desperate to cover my naked body from his glare. I was done. No more. I couldn’t take this anymore. I was a complete fool to think I could do this. No money was worth this sick humiliation.

“Answer me,” he demanded. “Do you understand that I can do to you whatever I want?”

Shaking with fear and fury blended, I answered, “Yes.”

Fuck! Why did I say that?

My tiny naked frame lay crumpled on the floor, still pressed up against the wall, yet I didn’t scream no. I didn’t demand he stop. There was no safe word from my lips. It was in that contract. I could use it. I believe it was red. Yes, red. All I had to do was scream red and this was all over. Scream red, you goddamn idiot.

But I didn’t.

He slapped me across the face once, then again. Bending down, he grabbed me by the neck and squeezed, staring into my eyes. What was this? Who was this man? Would he kill me? Was this contract just a way to trick me into his house so he could murder me? Was he a serial killer?

Luckily, he released me as I struggled for breath. But it wasn’t over. No, it was far from over.

Marco unzipped his pants. The time had come. He was going to fuck me with more than just his finger. But he couldn’t. Not in my pussy. Shit. It was either my mouth or my ass. I couldn’t decide what would be worse.

I broke my stare into his ruthless eyes to look at his cock… if that is what you would even call it. The saggy flesh was semi-hard. Thin. Small. His balls were almost larger than his dick. Pathetic excuse for a man.

Now was the time. He was going to fuck me in the mouth or ass, and I knew it. I could do this. I could do this. He just better not fucking kiss me again. But if he wanted to shove that flaccid body part into me for a few minutes of grunting and thrusting, I could survive. I would just close my eyes, zone out, and survive.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t pounce. He didn’t mount me like a mangy mutt. Instead, he took hold of his dick and peed. The liquid splashed down on my exposed body, covering me in his waste. The golden stream flowed out as I struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. Marco Nunez was pissing on me! His repulsive piss showered against my once clean and creamy-white flesh, tainting my purity of never having such an act done to me with his toxic pollution.

The wetness coated my flesh, dripped from my nipples like pus from a wound, and dampened the tiny little curls on my mound. He continued to pee on me with an evil smile, humiliating me, shaming me, splashing me with the worst smelling liquid imaginable. I sat immobilized by the shocking darkness of my situation.

I wanted to puke.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to kill him.

Big droplets of my misery cascaded down my face—getting into my mouth—as the last of his piss rained down on me.

Fuck yes; Marco had won this battle.

Fuck yes; there was more to break inside my broken soul.

But I would not allow this again. Never again. When I got up and cleaned this waste from my body, I would leave. I would escape. I would take his fucking money and run from this monster and never look back.

I was silently screaming red. Red. Red. Red.

Marco just didn’t know it. But he would. When I was long gone with his money, he would know. I would flee before he even saw it coming.

Red, motherfucker. Red.

Chapter Nine

Kenneth

I had been grinding my teeth so hard, I wasn’t sure if there would be any enamel left as Tennessee told the room of founding members the fucked up situation we were in.

“She left.”

“What the fuck do you mean, she left? Where did she go?” I asked, feeling as if I were about to snap any minute.

Tennessee, shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone from Marco’s camp called us and said the bitch ran with the money. They said Anita went to the bathroom to clean up, and then no one saw her again.”

“Doesn’t she still have two weeks on that contract?” Matthew asked as he sipped from his drink. No one around the table seemed as concerned as they should be. Curious yes. But not really concerned.

“Did that prick Marco hurt her?” I asked.

Tennessee shook his head. “He claims no. Said she never said the safe word. Not once. She simply disappeared.”

“And we trust the man? I find it hard to believe this was a calculated move on Anita’s part.”

“From what Marco’s man told me, Anita demanded the money up front in the car ride over. She claimed she was scared and it would make her feel better knowing how much she was actually going to get and see it. Feel it. She told Marco she was new to Spiked Roses and still didn’t trust that this entire contract stuff was legit. She was getting scared of being screwed out of the money. So Marco, not giving a fuck about the money, and more focused on what dirty things he had in store, gave her the money. One hundred thousand dollars.”

“What?” I asked, surprised. “The contracts were for fifty thousand for that tasting.”

Tennessee nodded. “Apparently our delicate flower who likes the thorn negotiated for double that amount.”

I had to hand it to the girl. The women were allowed to negotiate the contract as they saw fit, but most girls attended several tastings before having the guts to ask for anything, let alone more money.

“So, Marco is pissed and sending his goons to find her,” Tennessee said. “And he isn’t pleased with Spiked Roses right now.”

“Fuck!” Michael Price said. “If word gets out that our staff steal our members’ money and run off, we are done. Say goodbye to our reputation.”

I nodded in agreement as did the rest of the men around the table.

“Did he threaten us?” Harley asked, showing anger for the first time this evening. “I’ll fucking put a stop to all this right now. Say the word.”

“If Marco’s men find her, they will hurt her,” I said more to myself than to the other men.

“Kill her, would be a better word,” Harley corrected. “Men like Marco Nunez don’t like being stolen from. If it were me, I would kill her but only after I got my money’s worth.”

“Then we need to find her,” I said. “Before his men do. We’ll bring her back, or bring back the money. We don’t need a murder on our hands, nor does she deserve that. She fucked up, and we’ll fix it. But we can’t let Marco and his men have their way with her.”

“Where do you think she’d run off to?” Tennessee asked.

“Where’s that hick town she is from?” I asked. “Give me the name of that from her hiring papers. Also all her emergency contact names. We’ll start there.”

“You want me to handle it?” Harley asked. “I can hunt her down.”

Yeah this was right up Harley’s alley. He could do this blindfolded, but I also didn’t completely trust the man. The assassin had demons. Ruthless demons. And I didn’t want to risk having Anita piss him off and end up murdered anyway. No. He was not the man for the job.

I shook my head. “No, I will. I hired her. It’s my mess to clean up.”

“Don’t fuck with Marco,” Harley warned. “He’s a mean son of a bitch, Kenneth. This isn’t the courtroom. This is my domain.”

“I don’t plan on fucking with him. I’ll make sure this gets handled and Spiked Roses is clear of this shit. I’ve got it handled.”

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I didn’t have the time for this bullshit. But fuck. If you want something done right, do it your damn self.

* * *

Anita

I couldn’t believe he was standing in the middle of Virgie’s living room. I mean… I wasn’t exactly being smart when it came to coming back to Muckaluk, but I really didn’t expect anyone to follow me or really care. Sure, I knew Marco would be mad, and going back to New Orleans ever again was out of the question. But a hundred grand was just a drop in the bucket for these people. Would they really put a bounty on my head? I hadn’t thought so. I hadn’t thought it was necessary to go into hiding. Apparently, I was wrong.

And I really hadn’t expected my boss from Spiked Roses to do the dirty work. Kenneth Saxon was here. He was here! And he was pissed. If looks could kill… And he was fast. I barely had time to change my clothes, hide the money, and start planning on what I needed to do to get Virgie out of Elko Regency.

“Did you really think you could just sign the contract, take the money, and run? And I’m disappointed in you, Anita. Back to your hometown? In the house you used as an emergency contact on your hiring paperwork?”

“I didn’t think you rich fucks would really care enough,” I defended. “Not to come to the middle of nowhere Nevada to find me. That’s for sure.”

“Well I did. And I’m not happy about it.”

“I’m not happy about it either, so we are even.”

Our eyes locked, and neither of us would dare back down and look away. We were having our own stand off.

“You have two choices. Come with me, and honor your contract, or terminate the agreement, and give the money back. Simple. Your choice.”

“No,” I said with zero emotion.

“No?” His firm and rigid expression was only slightly altered with the rise of an eyebrow.

“You heard me correctly. I will not give the money back.” I meant every single word, and there was nothing this man could do to make me change my mind.

“Fine. I don’t care. But you will return with me and honor your two week contract then.”

I shook my head. “I won’t do that either.”

Kenneth’s jaw clenched. “You are saying this as if you have a choice. You don’t. You return the money, or I return you.”

“Consider this my resignation,” I said without so much as a flinch even though my heart beat a mile a minute. “I quit.”

Kenneth gave a slow and sinful smile. Fuck the man was handsome, even when he appeared terrifying at the same time. “Very well. I shall accept your resignation. But that does not change anything. You owe a very dangerous man a lot of money, or you owe him you. The choice is yours, but it is one or the other. You can’t just quit Spiked Roses and run home to hide. There is no hiding from this man. Do you understand that?”

“I’m not giving the money back!” I snapped. “I consider the money payment for services rendered. He pissed on me!” Bile formed in the back of my throat just thinking about it.

Kenneth smiled again with humor twinkling in his dark eyes but said nothing. Was he going to laugh at me? Yes, the fucker wanted to laugh at me!

“It’s not funny! He pissed on me, he choked me, and he expected me to act like his pet. I’m not a fucking animal! I didn’t sign on for that.”

Very calmly, Kenneth asked, “Did you read the contract?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, hating how the man had full control of his emotions when I wanted to scream and throw a fit like a damn toddler.

“Then you knew what you were agreeing to. You initialed next to noncon, did you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“You initialed next to Master/slave? To pet play? To whatever aggressive act aside from permanent bodily harm, correct? And were you not paid in cash? A large sum of cash to perform Marco’s out of the ordinary desires?”

“I didn’t know he was going to pee on me!” I took a few steps back and shuddered at the memory of Marco’s ammonia-scented urine raining down on my naked flesh.

“Clearly you got in over your head on this. Tennessee warned you, but you were too stubborn to listen. Or maybe too greedy. But whichever the case, you were warned.”

The fucker was right. I’d had no idea what I was getting myself into. But I’d wanted the money. I needed the money, and I wasn’t going to give it back. I should be paid for what was by far one of the worst experiences of my life. The image of piss shooting from Marco’s ugly limp dick would forever be ingrained in my mind.

“So give the money back and end the contract. You know that either party can walk away at anytime. You could have said the safe word, which you didn’t. You can’t be so stupid as to think that you can walk away and keep the money. So give it back to me, and this mess is over. I don’t have time for this shit. Hurry up so I can get back to New Orleans.”

I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I already gave you my answer.”

An ominous shadow washed over his face as I was lifted into the air by Kenneth and swung over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing to the man. He bolted out the front door and down the porch stairs, heading straight for a black Escalade waiting in front. Complete panic filled me as I thought of all the horrors that may happen in the hands of this man. He could be far more deviant than the asshole I had recently escaped. I already knew he was no nonsense, and a man all the ladies at Spiked Roses feared. But what if there was more beneath the surface? What if my fleeing and forcing him to come after me had awoken the beast?

“Stop fighting me,” he demanded calmly, carrying me to the vehicle, apparently not really concerned as my fists walloped on his back.

I continued to kick and punch with every ounce of strength I still had left in my body, coughing from the bone of his shoulder pressing into my stomach with every twist and turn of my resistance. The pressure of his shoulder into my abdomen also prevented me from screaming—if there had been any point in screaming to begin with. Everything was happening so fast. I would be thrown in the back of the vehicle before anyone would arrive to save me.

Kenneth swatted my ass hard, causing an involuntary yelp to escape my mouth. “I said to stop fighting me.” He spanked my bottom two more times until I paused in my useless struggle.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised.

The submissive term of endearment fired me up again. I would never be anyone’s “good girl”. I began my fight with a renewed strength. Over and over, I kicked and punched, only to be rewarded with continued swats in response. Fucking bastard was spanking me like a damn child.

* * *

Kenneth

I lowered her feet to the ground, my hands still gripped tightly around her tiny wrist, my stare immediately going to her rich brown eyes. “What the hell did you think you were doing running here? Did you really think no one would find you?” I asked, pulling my gaze away from her briefly and tossing her into the back of the car, knowing I had to get her as far away from this house in this piece of shit town, and quickly. “I took you for a smart woman. You didn’t think they would look for you at your friend’s place in your fucking hometown? Are you a goddamn idiot?”

She continued struggling against me, her fists punching, and her legs kicking me in the side with a vengeance as I crawled in beside her, slipping across the slick leather seating. I knocked on the glass separating the back seat from the driver to signal for him to take off.

When the vehicle started and pulled away, Anita’s eyes widened as she glanced out the tinted windows. “You have no right to take me. This is kidnapping! Who the fuck do you think you are?” she demanded.

I turned calmly to look at her, my hands going to her assailing fists trying to stop her futile attack. Finally grabbing her by the wrists, I made her stop, my eyes studying this woman I’d felt the duty to find. Her skin was so pale, bruised in areas from the hand of a monster—no doubt Marco Nunez. Her body seemed so fragile, a contrast to the spitfire that ineffectively pummeled at me. As I restrained her, I couldn’t help but be concerned I may bruise her delicate skin even further. I knew this woman was practically a stranger to me, and I shouldn’t give a fuck about her wellbeing, but I still didn’t want to deliberately cause her any lasting injury or mark her beautiful skin more than it was.

Feeling her boot heel clomping down hard onto my foot, my attention pulled away from Anita’s tantalizing beauty and back to the harsh reality that stood before us. I needed to remember why I was here with this woman in the first place. I wasn’t here by choice. I was here because I needed to figure out a way to clean up this fucking mess. A fucking mess her dumb ass put us both in.

“You signed the fucking contract, and I’m here to make sure you honor it,” I told her as she continued her assault on me.

“You can fuck off, you and that disgusting contract!” Anita yelled, still fighting against me. “Mind your own business, and let me go.”

“I advise you stop before I lose my patience,” I warned, my lips close to her ear. So close that I could smell a floral scent mixed with spice that literally made my mouth water. “And watch your mouth and speak like a fucking lady, or you won’t be sitting comfortably for the entire ride back. I tolerate many things from women, but I can’t stand a foul-talking, truck stop vocabulary.”

Anita seemed to pay no attention to my warning as she continued fighting against me, her body brushing against me in a way most men only hope to have some woman to do so well in the heat of a sexual encounter. But this was no fucking sexual encounter. She was a goddamn, out of control little brat right now. The nerve that she actually believed she could take the money and run caused my core to sizzle with frustration. And she was acting like I was the bad guy! I was saving her goddamn life. Well, I was sick of playing Mr. Nice Guy and Mr. Professional. I was going to do this my way from now on.

My irritation—and sexual frustration—building, I did the only thing I knew would keep her still and silent. My fingers firmly gripping her chin, I lifted her head, grabbed a handful of hair in my hand forcefully, and kissed her hard and fast on the lips, nipping at her lower lip.

“Now you stay still, baby doll, or you’ll be getting more than just a kiss,” I said, enjoying how the force of intimacy seemed to cease all breathing in the stubborn woman. I finally had the upper hand… and I didn’t mind how I had to get it either.

Stunned motionless, Anita just stared. “What are you planning to do to me?” Anita asked, her struggles gone, her tone obviously nervous.

“I told you. You signed a contract, and now I’m bringing you back to New Orleans to honor it. Marco—your new owner for the next two weeks—is waiting for you. And from what I know of this man, you could be in a world of trouble for trying to steal from him and think you’d get away with it. I’ll try to fix this, but you need to shut your fucking mouth, smile like a good little girl, and let me handle it.”

“Fuck you,” she said in more of a mumble than a statement. She crossed her arms against her chest and stared out the window in what I had to admit was the most adorable pout I had ever seen.

Chapter Ten

Kenneth

The driver of the Escalade pulled up to a Travel Lodge that sat on an exit along the highway still hours away from New Orleans. We needed to stop for the night, and this was the best that could be found for lodging along the way. I was half tempted to make Anita stay in some Motel 8 that reeked of B.O. and dirty twat as penance for her little stunt but then realized the only person truly suffering would be me. Anita was probably used to those conditions. I, on the other hand, hadn’t stayed in a Travel Lodge since I was a law student traveling with buddies to see a Metallica concert.

I reached into my duffle bag at my feet and pulled out a short length of rope, which I used to secure her hands together in front of her. I was tired of being hit and didn’t feel like battling it out in front of the staff of the hotel. She didn’t resist which surprised me, but I think I stunned her by my actions more than her actually showing signs of submission.

“What are you doing?” Anita finally snapped as I pulled her from the car. “Why did you tie me with this rope?” She didn’t struggle but stared at her hands still appearing surprised I had actually tied her up. Maybe the gravity of the situation was finally sinking in.

“Be quiet or I’ll gag you too. I’m trusting you can keep your mouth shut while we walk through the lobby, yes?” I draped my jacket over her confined wrists to conceal the rope.

Instead of answering me or telling me to go fuck myself, she asked, “Where are we?”

“Fuck if I know. Out in the middle of nowhere thanks to you.”

And that was truly where we were. Nowhere. One shitty hotel, a diner called Mama Bear’s, and two small gas stations across the street from each other. I did take pause and wonder what the fuck reason there would be for two gas stations literally a few yards from each other, but I figured things didn’t make sense in the armpit of hell.

“We’ll stay here for the night. The driver needs to rest, and though I wouldn’t mind driving, I wouldn’t put the poor man through having to sit with you and your violent tantrums in the back seat.”

“I would never hit the man,” she said as a mix of shock and insult washed across her face.

“No? You just hit me?” I placed my hand on her back and led her toward the entrance of the hotel, while the driver was getting our bags.

Anita did an about face and started to back away from me. “You expect me to just stay with you? Not try to escape?”

“You will if you want to stay safe.” I closed the distance between us. “Marco put a bounty on your head. You’re lucky I found you before his goons did.” I stepped towards her further when she took a few more steps back. “Don’t push my patience. If you act up in there, I swear to God I will leave you on the side of the highway, call Marco myself, and tell him exactly where you are. I have no doubt his men will come and make your life holy hell before they deliver you beaten and raped. This isn’t the time to be stupid.”

She continued stepping away from me, stumbling a bit as her foot tripped on the sidewalk edge in the parking lot. “You stay away from me, you monster! I’m not staying with you for another second.” She charged in the direction of the Escalade. “You are going to take me back to Muckaluk, and you can tell that asshole you never found me. Go home empty handed, you piece of shit!”

Just as Anita struggled to open the back door of the car with her still bound wrists, I reached for her, pulling her kicking and cursing back towards me. Thank God we were in the middle of nowhere so that no one would see this. 911 would be called and I would have to buy someone off if they saw this ridiculous scene.

“Knock this shit off,” I ordered between clenched teeth. I swatted her hard on the ass as I pulled her close to me, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. The driver, however, was watching the display with annoyance as he had the bags slung over his shoulders. I nodded with my head. “Go ahead and get us two rooms. We will be in there in a second once Anita stops acting like a naughty child.”

“I’m a human being! You can’t kidnap me like this! Contract or not, this is all illegal,” she cried.

“You gave me no fucking choice. Not only are you putting your life at risk, you are fucking with my business. I’m not going to allow Spiked Roses to be taken down with you because you went chicken shit and ran away like a scared little girl. You knew what kind of people you were dealing with the minute you accepted the position. Men of power. Dangerous men. Ruthless men. Men you do not want to fuck around with. Men who can destroy you. You walked into a dark and fucked up world, and we warned you. Then when you took it to the next level and signed that contract…” I struggled to keep a steady tone, my jaw tight, not amused by her constant fight. I was losing my temper fast, but wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing it. “You upped the game. A very twisted and dark game. But you were warned. You knew. So, don’t look at me with those innocent eyes and pretend you didn’t know. You knew. You fucking knew.”

Anita threw off my jacket from covering her hands. “I fucking hate you,” she spat.

Bending down, I reached for the jacket, struggling to not show that the bitch was working my last nerve. Taking advantage of my position, she kicked me square on the cheek. Luckily for me, she didn’t have the room to get full strength behind the kick to do much harm, but it was enough to throw me off balance and landing me flat on my ass. Fury blazed inside. I could fucking kill her right now with my bare hands, and though I could be ruthless, I had never been violent… until now. I could wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze, taking pleasure as I saw the life leave her fearful eyes. Yes, I would take great pleasure. But this was exactly why I hadn’t let Harley Crow take the job of bringing her back. Anita would have been dead by now. Very few men at the club had my patience, but it had grown extremely thin.

Standing tall again, refusing to show my anger and give her the power of knowing she was getting to me in any way, I looked her in the eye, about to end her temper tantrums once and for all. “You will go inside next to me. You will not say a single word, or do anything at all but walk. If you do not, I swear to fucking God, you will pay dearly. When I’m done with you, you will wish to hell to be in the grasp of a pissed off Marco Nunez over me.” I said the words through clenched teeth, struggling not to throttle her right where she stood. “Do you understand?”

She said nothing but stared into my eyes. Was she wondering if she could push further? Was she trying to read me? Well, good luck with that. I made millions off the fact that no one could read me in court and in negotiations. Cold, soulless, lacking any emotion was what made me richer than most men. So good luck, bitch. Try to read my ass.

Wiping the dirt from the seat of my pants, I once again placed the jacket over her bound wrists and lead her to the entrance of the Travel Lodge. Nothing this woman did would change things. She could struggle. She could beg and plead. Nothing would take the bounty from her head. Things were what they were. She had signed the contract, taken the money, and had tried to run away. Black and white. But I would keep her safe and unharmed to the best of my ability. I owed it to Spiked Roses to not have any of the girls be put in grave danger.

Glancing down to her as we crossed the threshold of the lobby where Anita walked calmly against her will, I had to admit the woman wasn’t at all what I had expected. Was she putting up a fight for show? Or did she actually think she could break free, out run me, and somehow hide from Marco Nunez? She didn’t seem to be afraid that death, or possible torture was knocking at her door if she had been captured by someone else. She seemed much spicier in spirit than what I’d thought I would get.

I could see by the bruises on her arms and cheek that Marco hadn’t been a gentle man. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be a forced sexual slave, but at the same time, she signed the fucking contract. This was her choice 100% and no one was holding a gun to her head. She didn’t seem stupid, or even naïve. I couldn’t put my finger on her personality and it was driving me crazy. I prided myself on being able to read people. Hell, it’s what made me one smart motherfucker.

She resisted submission clearly, but there was something of that nature hidden away—I could see it. I could feel it. That much I could be sure of. Every time I spanked her ass or showed any dominance at all, she did seem to submit slightly—not a lot, but I noticed a change in her breathing, a flutter of her eyes, a nibble on her lip. For a brief moment, her rage subsided. Maybe that was why she signed that damn contract. She was a natural submissive, but unfortunately, for her first experience, she’d chosen a fucking asshole to show her the ropes.

I shook my head, knowing I couldn’t afford to be thinking about this chick, a woman who would no doubt fight me every step of the way should I even lay an affectionate hand on her or simply offer a sympathetic word. I had to show her I meant no nonsense and to make her fear me. It was the only way we would get our asses back to New Orleans without killing each other.

She was striking though… far more so than any woman at Spiked Roses, and that was saying a lot. Had I met her under different circumstances… I would fuck her for hours, pause for a drink, and then fuck her some more.

Huffing to myself, I pushed against her lower back as I made eye contact with the driver at the counter, happy to see him nod that everything was going fine with check-in. One step closer to being done with this ordeal. I did feel for the girl a bit because of what I knew of this ruthless man who owned her for the next two weeks. A woman like Anita didn’t deserve the life waiting for her at the hands of Marco Nunez. But my business revolved around the strength of the contract and the terms to protect the tastings. If word got out that a woman could sign, and then take the money and run, Spiked Roses would be ruined. The fun little dirty tastings would become a joke. The only way to fix this was to make Anita pay up one way or the other. Harsh, but a reality nonetheless. Shit, Anita’s hands weren’t the only ones that were tied. Hers were bound with rope, but, fuck it, responsibility and duty bound mine just as tightly. And even if I let her go, it was just a matter of time until one of Marco’s goons found her. A goon who was fierce, thirsty for blood, and dangerous with the need of something to prove. A hired man who would soullessly fuck her, then return her to Marco—who would also fuck her, no doubt punish her, then fuck her again. Being pissed on would be minor compared to what I knew Marco could do to her.

The driver approached us with two key cards in his hand. We didn’t stop walking, but all made our way to the elevators and out of the eyes of the front desk staff. Even Anita was smart enough to know she needed to do that. Having police involved when she’d stolen $100,000 dollars would not be a good thing for her.

“I got two King bed rooms. They didn’t have any suites or anything fancier, sir,” the driver said, handing me a card.

I nodded and also took my large duffel bag from his shoulder. “That will be fine. It’s one night.”

Anita stopped as I pushed the button to the elevator. “That will not be fine! I’m assuming you think I’ll be sleeping with you? Fuck if I will sleep in the same bed with you. Nowhere in the contract did it say I had to do anything with you.”

I shoved her into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. “You will do whatever the fuck I say and shut your goddamn mouth.”

She glanced at me, the driver, and then back at me with pure venom in her eyes. “You two share a room then.”

I chuckled, but didn’t even dignify her comment with a verbal response.

It was a bit amusing to see her attempt to cross her arms, her bound wrists evidently forgotten for an instant. Still, she raised her arms to cover her chest in a pout, clearly fuming by the coloration on her pale complexion.

The elevator stopped on the 9th floor and we all walked off. The driver turned to me. “Will you need anything else for the evening, sir?”

“No.” I glanced down at Anita. “I have it covered. But I want to be on the road by 6 am.”

“Very well, sir. Goodnight.” He turned left down the hallway to his room, while I led Anita down the hallway to the right.

When I opened the door and we entered the room, I asked, “Can I trust that you can be a good girl if I untie you?” I struggled to hide my smile. I purposely taunted her by using the term ‘good girl’. I knew it would burn her insides through and through, but I couldn’t help myself. She was lucky that was all I was doing since I was still pissed from all her punching and kicking.

Anita nodded slightly, a look of trepidation on her face, mixed with death glares from her eyes. I could leave her tied until morning. Her comfort was of no concern to me. Or at least it shouldn’t be, but at the same time, I didn’t want to hear bitching all night. A night in this small room, with a worn bedspread and the stench of old cigarette smoke would be enough misery.

I reached forward and began untying the rope that restrained her, trying not to notice the way she stared at me. If she had a knife or a gun, I had no doubt she would use it on me without hesitation. And yet, I was still the fucking fool untying her. Harley would die if he knew how careless I was being. I’m sure he never conducted a job considering the captive’s comfort over all else.

“I have some different clothes in my bag for you. Something for you to sleep in. It’s just an oversized shirt of mine, but it will be more comfortable than the jeans and tee you are wearing now.”

My words were cut midstream as a hard denim-clad knee connected with my balls. Bent over in utter agony trying to regain my breath between groans, I noticed her shaking off the ropes that I’d loosened around her wrists. Swinging her right fist, she narrowly missed my face square on. In crippling pain, feeling as if my dick would never be the same, I fell to the worn carpet, doing my best not to punch back in retaliation. Or fucking kill her. If I were Harley Crow, she would be dead right now. I was two seconds from taking a page from his playbook.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you have a goddamn death wish?” I hissed at her, my words strained as I struggled to regain my breath. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking beat the crap out of you right now.”

“You piece of shit bastard!” Anita yelled, kicking me in the gut, knocking the air I’d somehow managed to regain right out of me again. “You can go to hell… along with all the fuckers at Spiked Roses! Men like you should rot.” The venom in her voice blended with a tiny ounce of fear. Her voice cracked and quavered as she spoke, revealing her true feelings whether she liked it or not. Tough exterior, but frightened kitten inside. I’d seen many like her before. Easy to read when they were trying to be their strongest.

Anita went to run away from me then, but I caught her calf, pulling her to the musty-smelling carpet beside me. For a moment, I worried she would hit her head on the edge of the bed, and I actually helped ease her fall to the best of my ability. Why I gave a damn, I had no fucking idea.

Reaching for the rope that had fallen to the ground in the onslaught of her attack, I again tied her wrists together—much tighter than before. Fire still burned in my breathless body, and my groin throbbed to the point of nausea.

“Listen here, bitch,” I bit out as I tied the last knot. “It’s high time I teach you a fucking lesson. You can’t hit, kick, and knee my junk and not think there will be goddamn repercussions!”

Anita struggled just enough that her constrained hands broke free from my grasp, and she swung her hands with as much force as she could muster, connecting to my jaw. For a moment, she paused in shock, clearly not expecting that she would punch me. The pause in motion was all I needed to grab her by the back of her neck, practically throwing her over my lap.

“I will not tolerate your explosive temper tantrums any further!” I spanked her ass two times with enough force that her stunned silence turned to a gasp of shock.

“Fuck you, asshole!”

I continued to spank, each blow harder than the last. At least it was on her ass and not her face. Her ass could take the beating, and her beautiful face could not—or should not. I wasn’t a spanker by nature, unless you count a few swats in the heat of passionate sex, but it did seem to work with her. And it was the only thing I could do so I wouldn’t knock her teeth out.

“No, but if you don’t change your attitude, I may just fuck you! And if you are really lucky, it will be in your asshole.”

“Go to hell! Don’t you dare lay a finger on me.” She was loud, but she never screamed. I suppose if she wanted to scream bloody murder, security would eventually show up. Not that I couldn’t fix everything with the wad of cash in my wallet, but it would still be inconvenient. And with how my luck was running today, some neighbor would call the police and they were a lot harder to buy off. Though in this piece of shit town, maybe they were cheaper than all my experiences in the past.

Her teeth clamped down on my thigh like a rabid dog.

That was it. I’d had enough. Yanking down her pants, which took very little effort on my part, I pummeled her backside with a fury of hard swats. I wasn’t going easy on her anymore. Over and over, I spanked, taking pleasure in watching the creamy white of her ass quickly change to an inferno of red. Oh yeah, this woman was about to learn her lesson. Don’t mess with me in a cheap fucking hotel when I was in a pissy frame of mind and in desperate need of a stiff drink. Her ass was about to pay the price for my foul mood.

She continued to fight, struggle anyway she could, and curse like a goddamn sailor. This stubborn woman wasn’t about to give me the satisfaction of knowing that her punishment had any effect. I knew it had to hurt like hell, but she wasn’t going to show it. “You are nothing but a filthy excuse of a man,” she spat, kicking her feet and bucking up as the spanking continued. “Fuck you! You bastard!”

“Shut your mouth now. I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You’ll beat me some more? Go ahead.”

“I’ll do something much worse. I have other ways of shutting you up rather than blistering your ass.”

“Fuck you! There is nothing you can do that will make me be the ‘good girl’ you so think you’ll get out of me.”

Enough with the language. I had never liked a girl with a foul mouth. It had always been a pet peeve of mine. But this was pushing me beyond slightly annoyed. I wanted to shut those luscious lips of hers and make the only sound coming from them be squeals of shock and discomfort. I wasn’t going to take it any longer. Dipping my finger into her pussy, I gathered her juices. Juices that were plentiful, regardless of her hatred toward her punisher. Oh yeah, this dirty talking girl liked a little forceful handling. Clearly, pleasure and surrender coursed through her body just as much as the rage did. Once my finger was properly slickened, I pulled it out—taking gratification in the tiny moan I heard escape from her—and inserted it into her anus without pause. I knew this little invasion would shut her up.

She gasped and clenched, desperately trying to prevent my finger from going any further than it already had. “Stop!” she screamed. “You sick, bastard!”

“Every time you say those revolting words ‘fuck you’ to me, I will do exactly that. I will fuck you one way or the other.” I pumped my finger into her puckered hole several times for emphasis, feeling my cock grow with every thrust. I wanted it to be my dick rather than my finger, but I had some control right now. Though it balanced very precariously. “You are lucky that right now I am simply fucking you in the ass with my finger. Trust me, my cock would have you crying out and begging for me to stop because I wouldn’t fit in this tiny hole comfortably.” I pumped my finger a few more times, going deeper into her tight channel with each push. When my second knuckle disappeared up her ass, Anita finally ceased in her struggles as she mewled like a kitten.

I wanted to fuck her.

I wanted to strangle her.

I wanted to beat her.

But I wanted to fuck her the most.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her full body weight melting against me in defeat. “Is that what you want me to say to make you stop?”

I wasn’t sure if it was the finger rooted into her tiny hole, or her bright red ass that ultimately taught her a lesson, but regardless, she had thankfully simmered down. I had finally removed all the animalistic nature to attack and flee from her body… for now.

“Sorry is a good start. So we are clear,” I began as I pumped in and out, feeling her muscles clench around my finger, “if you ever say those words to me, I will fuck you and not in a way that will have you purring for more.” I rubbed a second finger along her wet slit, coating it with her signs of arousal, placed it at her anus, and joined it with the one already in her.

Anita inhaled and keened but didn’t resist or fight the intrusion of my two fingers. She simply laid across my lap limply, her tangled hair covering her face, concealing her expression, making it impossible for me to truly get a good read on her. The wetness of her sex, the smell of her musk, the swelling of her pussy lips, all gave away the truth that her body desired this. Her mind—maybe not. But her body exposed her dirty little secret whether she liked that fact or not.

“And every time you decide to hit me, I would think twice,” I continued on, now with two fingers fully embedded in her ass, spreading her wide, relentlessly pushing her tight puckered hole past its limits with each movement of my fingers. “You will be punished much more severely than any blow you could possibly deliver to me. Unless you want to be sitting uncomfortably for the rest of our trip, I advise you to keep your hands to yourself.”

I scissored my two fingers, stretching her, hoping the sting of my discipline would make my warning heard loud and clear. She writhed in discomfort, but still did not put up a fight. Her breathing steadied as the submission took over, and her legs parted slightly, as if silently begging for more.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes, what?”

“What do you mean? Yes, what?” she asked out of what appeared genuine confusion rather than defiance.

“Answer me with a sign of respect. Yes, sir,” I instructed.

“Yes, sir. You made yourself very clear.” I could tell she didn’t want to say the words, but she still did. I had to give her points for doing so.

Pulling my fingers from her anus—still wishing I could replace them with my cock—I spanked her two more times, still not getting a fight from her. I’d finally found a way to control this little vixen and the situation. But with the raging hard on that I had, I wondered if it were she who was truly in control.

Chapter Eleven

Anita

I pushed at the undercooked pasta in my bowl, deep in thought while I stared at it. It was the only thing that had seemed halfway decent on the room service menu, so both Kenneth and I ordered it. I should have been hungry since I had barely eaten anything in days, but the fear of my fucked up future stole any appetite I had. What would Marco do to me once I returned to New Orleans? I’d gathered by now that Marco was far from a merciful man, and no doubt would be pissed that I took the money and ran. I’m sure he had killed people for less than what I’d done. Would I be used and abused until I couldn’t walk without blood dribbling down my inner thighs? Abused to the point that I couldn’t move? Couldn’t breathe? Would I be beaten to death? I’m not sure the contract would protect me anymore. I had voided our signatures the minute I’d fled. Would he kill me?

No… death would be too merciful. Marco wouldn’t let me off the hook by simply killing me, and I really didn’t think Kenneth would allow me to be killed. Something inside of me told me that the tight ass, no nonsense businessman would make sure my safety was guaranteed before being handed over. If for no other reason than to protect Spiked Roses and make it appear to all the participants in The Tasting Room that every transaction was safe. Kenneth wouldn’t want the staff to fear for their lives. So, he would conduct some sort of business agreement ending with a gentlemanly handshake. But there were a lot of things that Marco could do that Kenneth wouldn’t even blink an eye over, and frankly would maybe even do himself to some poor woman. I could see that. Kenneth was a dark man with dark desires. The fact that he… he… shoved a finger up my ass after spanking me like a hero would do in some historical novel spoke volumes about the man sitting across from me.

“It is important that you eat something,” Kenneth said. “As subpar as this meal is, it’s either this or Mama’s Diner. At least here, we have the mini bar.” He poured two tiny bottles of booze over a glass of ice, and then repeated the same again for the glass in front of me. I sat cross-legged on the bed with the tray in front of me as Kenneth sat in the only chair in the room by a chipped and scratched desk made of cheap plywood.

I rolled my eyes, huffed, and pushed the bowl away in defiance, pausing to see if that warranted another punishment or not. My anus puckered slightly in memory of the last time I’d pushed him too far. After what just happened, the last thing I wanted was a repeat.

A repeat of discipline that had left me unsatisfied and hungry for more. I had hated every minute of it, yet when it finally came to an end, I’d felt an overwhelming sense of loss. I didn’t want another session, but at the same time, I didn’t not want it to happen again. I was sick. Maybe sicker than all these rich bastards combined.

But controlling my emotions was something I clearly had no control over. I knew I had to behave. I was giving the man the upper hand because he was in control, and I was definitely not. Things would be so much easier if I just went back without a fight and begged for forgiveness at Marco’s feet. Do my time, keep the shit load of money, and all would be fine. But the demon inside of me screamed with rage. I wanted to hurt Kenneth, and yet after his display of dominance earlier, I couldn’t help but want to fuck him too.

Not make love.

No.

Not gentle. No caressing. I just wanted to fuck him hard.

And have him fuck me even harder.

I wanted him to pull my hair, slap my ass again, wrap his hands around my neck and thrust his cock deep within me, all with the lingering threat that he may choose to fuck my ass at any moment, stretching me to impossible limits with the size of his dick.

I had no doubt that Kenneth Saxon had a huge dick. Men like him had to have a huge dick. But fuck me if I didn’t want it in my ass after having just a tiny taste of the electricity that sizzled through me with just his fingers inside my tiny hole.

“Eat.”

The look on his face was enough for me to pick up the fork, take a bite, and start chewing. “Why are you doing this?” I mumbled with a mouthful of food.

“I have Spiked Roses to think of. Not to mention your safety.”

“My safety?” I looked at him in disbelief. “Did you really just say that? My fucking safety? You are about to hand me off to a madman, and you have the nerve to act like you are actually acting on my behalf? You really are a fucking bastard, you know? A delusional one too.”

His look of warning was enough for me to swallow back the slew of curse words still threatening to vomit from my mouth. I took a drink of cheap gin to help aid me in calming the raging beast threatening to escape from inside of me. I stared at him over the glass as he ate. His jawline flexed with each chew, and I found it fascinating. I think it was watching a man with such power engage in such a normal and simple act as eating. He seemed more human and less Godly, while up until this point, he’d been more God than human. He was a fucked up version of Zeus, and everything around him, all that he touched, was his. His to do with however he chose.

“Let me ask you something, Anita,” he said after he took a slow sip from his liquor, lightly inhaling air through barely parted lips as he did so. “Why did you go to The Tasting Room that night?”

“Because all the girls go to The Tasting Room. It’s expected at Spiked Roses, is it not?”

He shook his head, his brow furrowing due to my answer as his eyes seemed to darken. “No, it’s not. Attendance in The Tasting Room has never been a requirement of working at the club. You were told this when you were hired.”

“It is if you ever plan on making any real money,” I countered. “Every girl who works there knows this.”

“Spiked Roses doesn’t pay you enough?”

“It’s the difference between being a waitress and wearing diamonds. Which would you prefer?”

He gave me a devilish wink and an asshole smirk that made me have to fight the urge to punch him square in the Adam’s apple. “Well, waitresses don’t get pissed on. So I guess the real question is, what would you prefer?”

“I’m glad you find this so amusing.” I struggled to hold back my tears of rage and frustration. “It’s not a joke to me. It’s my life. I know you see me as nothing but a whore,” I said barely above a whisper. I straightened my spine and somehow found the little bit of strength that was still hiding inside of me, and said with more force, “And it’s so easy for you to say. You have money. A lot of fucking money. So, you can sit there and judge all you want, but some of us aren’t lucky enough to be rich. We have to do what we have to do to survive. I grew up in a goddamn trailer that rotted behind an abandoned gas station in the middle of a desert. I ate from cans of food that were so far past their expiration date that I didn’t even look anymore in fear that the knowledge of how old it was would spoil the one meal I was going to get that day. So, forgive me if I don’t ever want to return to that level of poverty. I will do whatever it takes to not get there again.”

“And whoever it takes as well, it seems,” Kenneth said as he cheered his glass in the air to me and then took a swig of the remaining booze in his glass. “I’m not judging you. The choice is yours on who you fuck and how much you get paid to do it. I’m just here to make sure you follow through with your decisions. But stop playing the victim. No one forced you, and I could give a fuck less about your sob story of a childhood. We all have sob stories in our past. Some simply choose to use their past to give them strength rather than weakness.”

“Why are you such a bastard?”

“Call me what you want. Here’s the thing about me, baby doll. I didn’t get handed my wealth. I wasn’t born into it. I was raised by a coupon cutting, single mother who gave me my name because she thought it sounded regal and hoped I would someday be a rich man. And I did exactly that. I built my empire on my own with no help from anyone, and without selling my body to the highest bidder. So if you really think I am going to sit here and attend your pity party so I’ll let you go, you are the one who is delusional. We all make choices in life. Some happen to make wiser ones. So don’t look at me and my wealth like I’m the lucky one. There was not one ounce of luck in what I got. I earned every cent of it. I busted my ass. I took risks. I didn’t make excuses. I did not let weakness win. I am where I am in life because I made it happen. Me. Am I rich? Yes. Was I poor growing up? Yes. But I will tell you this, nothing pisses me off more than when people assume rich people have it easy. Most of us rich fucks had to scratch our way to the top leaving a bloody trail behind us.”

I was losing this battle. Damn. Why did the man have to be as smart as he was handsome?

“I don’t want to go back there!” I snapped. “Please! Can’t you understand that? Can’t you understand that, yes, I got in above my head. I didn’t realize what signing that contract with my blood would mean. I was stupid. Fucking stupid!”

“Then give the money back. It really isn’t that hard.”

I sat there, biting my lower lip so it wouldn’t quiver and give away my despair. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He shrugged. “Fine, I don’t care. But like I said, you have two choices. Money or making good on your signature. Black and white. No gray area in this world. Maybe there was in your trailer behind the gas station, but in my world, we don’t operate in grays.”

Kenneth reached for my wrists again and grabbed the rope that he had removed so I could eat. I didn’t offer any resistance. What was the point right now? The man was stronger than me, and I just looked like a wild banshee whipping around and trying to fight him off. I needed to regain some amount of dignity. I had lost every shred of it when my ass was stripped, spanked, and probed.

“Regardless of what you want, you are going back to New Orleans. Marco is waiting, and the longer he waits, the worse it will be for you.”

Once my wrists were bound, he secured the remaining rope to the headboard. “I need to take a shower and try to wash off some of this desert grime from my body.” He paused for a moment, and in a gentler voice said, “Unless you would like to use the bathroom first.”

“No,” I mumbled.

I watched as the man walked away and closed the door behind him. My anger at my own weakness growing, I pushed the tray away in a huff. I couldn’t go back. I just couldn’t. But handing over that money wasn’t an option either. Virgie needed it—or would need it the minute I got her out of that nursing home. I didn’t want her to die in a long-term facility. Her house meant too much to her. Now that I didn’t even have the sommelier job at Spiked Roses to fall back on, I would be penniless, barely surviving again. And even if I became Virgie’s full time nurse—since I was unemployed—she wasn’t able to pay me that much. I would be stuck in a shitty mile marker town with no real future. At least the money gave me a cushion.

The sound of the shower being turned on renewed my thirst for freedom. I tugged at the ropes that held me captive. I needed to escape, time was of the essence.

Pulling hard at the knots in the restraints, I finally began to see them loosen. The fact that Kenneth truly didn’t want to hurt me or cause me discomfort from the ropes, had him not tying them as tight as he should have.

Fool.

He must have thought his little display of dominance had permanently subdued me.

Hardly.

Maybe temporarily… I would give him that much. But never would I remain submissive for any extended period of time. And I wasn’t going to let all these assholes win. I had survived from being bitten by a rattlesnake all these years even though I’d tempted the fucking Gods, so I sure as hell could survive these venomous snakes who thought they could own me.

Frantically, I pulled at the rope around the headboard, needing it to loosen just enough that I could squeeze my wrists through. Ignoring the burn of the rope—my flesh raw with my struggles—I pushed the restraints off me as they fell to the bleached white sheets of the mattress. I shot off the bed instantly, prepared to run for my life onto the freeway and hitch a ride to anywhere. Anywhere at all. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could go to the police for help. What were they going to do? And the reality of the situation was I had committed a crime just as much as Marco had. I had stolen money. I sold my body. Illegal. Wrong. Immoral. Fuck.

The water stopped in the shower. Shit. It was too soon!

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Kenneth asked, his tone harsh, his wet body wrapped in a terry cloth towel covering his lower half as he opened the bathroom door. He stood in the doorway staring at me with a smirk as if he found my shitty attempt at escape amusing. He must have assumed I would try and, therefore, wasn’t surprised by my actions. “Where the fuck were you going to go? Willing to fuck a trucker for a ride?”

He walked over to me. His towel was barely tucked in around his muscled abdomen, tempting me with the urge to see what a simple tug of the material would reveal. Droplets of water ran down his chiseled chest. The sparkle off his wet skin contrasted against his tan flesh. Kenneth didn’t need a weapon. His entire being was a weapon that practically paralyzed me with the alluring sensual appeal he exuded. Yes, he was definitely a God. No doubt about it. Power. Sex. Dominance. Ruthless. All mighty. I stood before a fucking God.

As he took hold of my upper arm forcibly, I irrationally struggled against the strength of the man holding me, kicking his shins hard, hoping to injure him enough that he would have no choice but to let me go and wouldn’t be able to chase after me.

But I also wanted the chase. The thought of it thrilled me. So, I kicked harder, I flailed more, I hit with all my might, and yes… I removed that damn towel.

I shouldn’t have, however.

Naked.

It was all it took for me to lose the battle. The size of his hardened cock in all its wonderful glory, and with it, every bit of fight left my body.

I froze.

I glanced up into his eyes for a brief moment and then back down.

I stared.

I continued to stare.

I continued to stare some more.

And I wanted.

I never had wanted something so bad in my life.

“Either you are a goddamn idiot or a fucking masochist. Do you want me to hurt you?” He took a handful of my hair into his fist and growled against my ear. “Do I have to beat you? Chain you? Make you bleed? Will you not learn unless I have you screaming for mercy? You are making it near impossible to treat you with any ounce of kindness.” His voice boomed against my eardrum, matching with the thumping in my heart… and my pussy.

Regardless of his terrifying, and completely immobilizing voice, I continued fighting him simply to push him further. The sting to my scalp intensified as he tightened his grip—and I liked it. I wanted to dance with the devil, and I would kick and shove my way to his limits. I wanted to push him over the cliff so he wouldn’t hold back. I wanted to tempt the beast inside his soul that I could see he struggled to hold back.

I supposed he was right. I was a masochist. Yes, that was a fair assessment. Something about Kenneth. Something about me. Bring it. I wanted it. I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted the pain. And finally—finally—I would feel the bite from the elusive rattlesnake that I had craved all these years. I’d finally found my rattlesnake lurking in the bushes… and I was ready for his bite.

Chapter Twelve

Kenneth

Spinning her around, my arms encircled her tiny frame, holding her back against me tightly, her rear nestled into my groin, needing to stop her struggle. But once again, her fist reached up and curved just enough to pop me in the jaw. And with the angle of her tightly-clenched fist… shit, it hurt.

Fighting past the stars blanketing my eyes, I roared, “Enough! What did I tell you would happen if you hit me? I warned you! I fucking warned you! Did you listen to me? Did my warnings have no effect on your stupid ass?”

I needed to break her wild spirit. I would not tolerate. I would not allow. I would not let her win this battle of wills. I would come out the victor, and she would not like how I did it.

Without waiting for an answer, I threw her body over the edge of the bed, pinning her flailing hands behind her lower back, and securing her kicking legs with mine. In one swift motion, I lowered her pants as I had done before, revealing her still pink backside from the earlier spanking. But no spanking would happen this time. That was child’s play. No, not this time. She needed more. That much was clear. Now was the time for a reckoning she wouldn’t soon forget.

Reaching up, I grabbed her hair again, giving it a tug so that Anita cried out in pain. Yet, I also heard something else. Desire? Hunger? Unleashed passion? Yes, I could hear it laced alongside her delicate mewl. I could feel it.

She wanted me to release her. She wanted me to hurt her. She wanted two things, and her core so full of madness, was battling it out. I pulled on her hair again, listening closely as she released the same noise as before.

I almost paused for a moment at the sound of her discomfort… almost, but I was an asshole.

I liked it. I craved it. I wanted to hear more of it. I loved the sound of her cries. My cock hardened with each whimper and gasp. It throbbed with every hitch of her breath. Lucky for her, I couldn’t see her face. If I saw tears… if I saw tears, I would be undone.

I needed to teach this woman that she couldn’t behave like this and not expect ramifications. Not just with me, but if she continued in this fashion toward any other man—especially in the world of Spiked Roses—what I did, and planned to do, would be minor in comparison to what others would do to her. You can’t rattle the cage of the beast and not expect to unleash the fury. This was for her own good. She needed to learn how to, at the very least, fake submission, and if I had to fuck her raw to get that harsh concept through her willful head, I would.

“Please,” she pleaded as I removed her pants completely with my feet, spreading her legs widely and settling myself between them. “Please!”

Was she begging for me to stop? Or was she begging for me to continue?

It was a fine daggered line between consensual and non-consent, but I was willing to be cut by the blade.

Her body bucked as I tugged on her hair some more. I released her hands and took delight as she seized hold of the bedspread over her head and clutched the fabric between her fisted palms. She had given up the physical fight. The first sign of submission fueled my lust for her even more.

My cock ran along the seam of her ass, and it took every ounce of control I had to not just jam it inside her dry—tearing her as I did so. I was a bastard, but I wasn’t a monster, so I took hold of my dick and guided it to the folds of her sex. She was wet. So fucking wet, as I knew she’d be. Yes, this dirty girl liked it rough. Her secret divulged. I had cracked her sexual code. That knowledge gave me the power. She was mine. All mine to fuck and abuse as I wanted. And the harder I was on her, the more power I would have over her. She was a delicate flower who desired the thorn… I truly saw that now. How true those words were.

“Your cunt is wet. You want me,” I said as I bathed my cock in her arousal.

“No, I don’t,” she panted, but squeezed the bedspread even tighter. Her white knuckles exposed how she struggled for control.

“Yes, you do. I can see it. I can feel it. I can smell it.”

“I hate you,” she said but never once tried to move her pussy away from my jabbing cock.

“Good,” I said. “You are about to hate me more.”

I gave a harder tug on her hair, pulling her head back in order to place my palm at the front of her neck and hold firmly. I wanted her to know I could take her life at any moment I chose, just as I could take her body.

“Fuck you,” she said. The vile words were breathless.

“Say it again.” I squeezed her throat tighter.

“Fuck you.”

“Say it one more time so I can be sure I heard your words correctly.”

She paused, swallowing hard against my palm. “Fuck you,” she said in almost a whisper.

I placed the head of my dick at the opening of her pussy, fighting every urge to bury myself balls deep. “Do you want me to fuck this pussy of yours?”

She shook her head. “No! I fucking hate you!”

I smiled, liking that she answered correctly. “Very well. The choice was yours. I told you that if you ever said those words to me again, I would fuck you. So, since you don’t want me to fuck your pussy, I will fuck your ass.”

I took hold of my slick cock, placed it at the entrance of her puckered hole, and slowly eased in, breaking the surface slightly. I had stretched her anus less than an hour earlier, but I knew this was still going to hurt. Yet, by the delicious moan that escaped her lips, she knew that as well… and wanted it. She wanted the biting pain in her ass. Luckily, her wetness coated on my cock helped ease my way in, and I would go slow, but this was still going to hurt like hell.

She cried out as I eased my way in deeper, but she didn’t scream for me to stop. I wasn’t going to go light on her—there was no way of doing so with my size—and a twinge of sympathy on my conscience had me pause so she could catch her breath and allow her tight little hole to get used to the stretching.

“Have you ever had your ass fucked?”

She shook her head and tightened her grip on the bedspread.

“Well then, I’m going to have great pleasure in being the first to fuck this ass of yours.” I think that fact was pretty obvious, but I still wanted her to hear the words from my mouth. A virgin ass. There was something special about an anal virgin. They cried more. They tightened more. But they also wanted it more. Their curiosity made it so.

She didn’t reply, but she never resisted or put up a fight like I had really expected her to do. I had a lesson to teach her.

I plunged my dick in all the way. I could no longer hold back. I had to have her ass. I had to make it mine. She cried out, which made me want even more. I began thrusting in and out, driven by her whimpers of pain and pleasure. She bucked against me, silently demanding for me to go deeper with each push. The harder I was, the more she demanded.

In and out, moan after moan, her ass was mine. She was fucking mine.

And just as my control was wavering, and I was about to explode, Anita turned her head and made eye contact with me. Her eyes. I was undone.

With one final thrust, I spilled my seed inside of her, claiming her as mine, just as she had claimed me as hers with that one look in her eyes. I became her captive. Motherfucker, I became her captive.

Chapter Thirteen

Kenneth

I awoke with a start, my mind still a fog from the heavy sleep I’d been in. It wasn’t like me to sleep so soundly, but the stressful search when I had a million other things to take care of at Spiked Roses, not to mention my neglected practice, and everything about this woman and her behavior… my behavior… our behavior… had certainly worn me out. Frantically, I looked in the direction where Anita slept, needing to reassure myself that she was safe.

She was gone… not that it surprised me.

Motherfucker.

I bounded to my feet, looking around at the small hotel room as if she would somehow be sitting in the old chair staring at me while I slept or walking out of the bathroom after a shower, but nothing. There was nothing missing, and even her shoes were still in the room. She wouldn’t have fled barefoot… and if Marco’s men had found us and entered the room, surely I would have heard them or even the slightest struggle. I hadn’t been in a coma. Sex induced slumber, but not a damn coma.

The shadows of the night were still fading into light of day, so I knew she couldn’t have gone too far… and again—I glanced at her boots—she was barefoot! Anxiety filled me as I thought that maybe she had run away again, though I had anticipated after what had happened last night, she would have been smart enough to understand how serious I was when I said I expected obedience. And had she no concern that she was a hunted woman? Marco’s men would be far less gentle than I.

I strained to think which way she would have run. But then a thought came to mind that maybe she had walked down to the lobby to get some coffee. A quick glance around the cheap room, and I could see that there wasn’t a coffee pot, and maybe she was as much of a caffeine junkie as I was.

Pulling on my clothes, and then my shoes, I charged out of the room in hopes of finding her innocently sipping out of a chipped mug at some sort of complimentary continental breakfast bar. I desperately hoped that I would find her before she was stupid enough to hitch a ride somewhere. As I exited the elevator and walked down the hallway by the indoor pool, I froze.

Sitting at the edge of the pool kicking her feet in the water was an image that knocked the breath right out of me. Anita slowly eased her way in at the shallow end of the pool, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, though to any random observer, the garments gave the illusion she was wearing a bikini. But I knew better. She was in nothing but her bra and panties and I wanted to remove them… all the way. Water droplets ran down her body, glistening on her skin as she walked slowly to the middle of the pool. My mouth watered as the water rose along the small of her back and over the curve of her heart-shaped ass. The water dripped down her erect nipples that weren’t concealed enough by the thin cotton fabric. I didn’t want her to go any deeper. I wanted to see all of her body and not have the chlorinated water cover even an inch of it. She was tiny in frame, yet muscular at the same time. Frail and resilient, delicate and powerful—a paradox indeed.

I had claimed her ass last night, but I wanted more. I wanted so much more. I wanted her to know she was mine—to never doubt it for a single moment. I fucking wanted her. Her. Her.

Fuck me.

I wanted her.

She was a picture of perfection, and I was quickly entranced by the splendor swimming only a few feet away. I had seen many a woman—nudity not being anything new in my life and my profession with Spiked Roses. I had touched many a woman, claimed many more, but nothing compared… nothing compared to this woman before me. My cock throbbed and grew painfully hard against my pants.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep cleansing breath, needing to clear my mind and calm my raging libido. I couldn’t think like this, especially not about a woman contractually owned by someone else. A very powerful and ruthless someone else. She was just an employee, and I needed to remember that. An employee. Nothing more.

Still… she was hypnotizing in her allure, and so fucking infuriating in her stubbornness. I had never been attacked, cursed at and fought with like I had been with her. Women lusted after me. Wanted me. Seduced me. Even feared me. None were ever brave enough to try to push my boundaries such as Anita had. But Anita was no ordinary woman, that much was for sure. She had already tried to escape, and I had no doubt that she would attempt to do so again if given the opportunity… yet right now she was just going for an innocent dip in the pool to start her day. To a hotel guest, no one would guess that she had just sold her body to a killer who would use and abuse her however he chose.

Was it her tattoos that hypnotized me? Seeing her in nothing but her underwear and the color of the flowers and vines going up her entire body contrasting with the black lacy lingerie reminded me of the most expensive art in any gallery. She was walking art. Walking dark and delicious art.

As she finally dove deep into the water, I gathered my composure and walked into the room that housed the pool and sat down on a cheap plastic chair. The room smelled of chemicals, and I worried that it may not be safe for Anita to be inhaling the fumes. I was pretty sure the pool boy had an IQ of nothing or didn’t give a fuck. Hell, Anita’s skin may burn off from some lazy ass just pouring a gallon of shit in there without a care in the world.

Trying not to overthink, or even consider the legalities of a possible lawsuit for poor pool maintenance, which unfortunately was in my nature, my eyes focused on the erotically enchanting performance before me. It was like a goddamn dance watching the way she swam—her lean body slicing through the blue water with such graceful ease. If she didn’t belong to someone else, at least for two weeks, I would have stripped down and fucked her right there in the pool—bystanders be damned. But things were different. She was different. Anita Kyle was owned by Marco Nunez. Plain and simple. Black and white, and I operated in black and white. So, I needed to listen to my fucking mind and not my fucking cock. My cock demanded, painfully so, but my mind and my business ethics now won the battle. So, I sat in this piece of shit chair and observed instead.

“Are you watching me? Really? Do you think I’m going to run away in my bra and panties while barefoot?”

The words pierced through my lustful thoughts, which with the raging hard on that I had, was welcomed.

“I told you last night when your dick was buried in my ass that I wouldn’t run away again. So why are you here watching me like some crazy stalker?” Anita demanded yet again, her voice louder than before.

I steadied my glare on her, not allowing her to gain control, even though my body felt like a fifteen-year-old boy’s about to have a wet dream he couldn’t control. “I didn’t give you permission to leave the room.”

“I didn’t know I had to ask. You said not to run away again. I agreed to that. Nothing more.”

“That may be. But I advise you, unless you want to feel my wrath again, to ask permission to leave my sight. Don’t make me have to hunt you down even if that means looking for you in the goddamn ladies’ room.” I tried to sound stern and domineering even though the mere presence of this woman stole almost all coherent thought from me. Amazing what a hard dick does to a man.

“Fine.” She paused. “Are you just going to sit there staring at me?”

I raised my brow, amused by her words. “Maybe I like what I see. You can’t blame a man for admiring. Spiked Roses is built on that concept. Admiring beautiful things.”

“No, Spiked Roses is built on giving rich men whatever the fuck they want. Whatever. The. Fuck. They. Want.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle with the way she mimicked how I’d recited my hiring speech. “You remember my lecture when I hired you I see.”

She pushed her legs up and floated onto her back, staring up at the concrete ceiling. Her tits bobbed above the water just beckoning my touch, my lips, my tongue caressing those perky nipples. I wanted to trace my fingertips along the colors of her tattoo that ran along the side of her flat stomach and curvy hips. Jesus, those tattoos were going to be the death of me. They were so beautiful, so artistic, so rebellious, and so fucking sexy.

Fuck!

“I remember what you said.” Her arms moved gracefully under the water, propelling her body further away from me. “But I saw it first hand. I saw that the men got what they wanted, or they took it. Not necessarily by force, but by the power of money, gifts, compliments, promises of a future of never having to work again. They hung a carrot of a new life only girls like me dream of, which meant that yes, they got whatever they wanted. You were all nothing but a room full of bastards and whiskey.” She flipped over onto her stomach and swam back in my direction, locking her eyes with mine. “But at the same time, we were nothing but a room full of harlots and diamonds. So who’s to judge?”

Would she blame me if I yanked her out of the pool, threw her against the wall and fucked her brains out right then and there? Her insight and words were just as stunning as her body.

I needed to regain control. She was getting into my head. I never allowed anyone to get into my head. It’s how I won. It’s how I mastered every situation. I got in the heads of others. Not the other way around.

“Get out of the pool now,” I said firmly.

“Go to hell.”

“Now. We need to get on the road.”

Her annoyance was plain to see, though I really didn’t care. I was here on a mission, and I wouldn’t let this little vixen dictate a thing. If she even got a whiff that I was losing my resolve, the battle would be lost.

Hearing a distinct huff of irritation, I watched as Anita climbed out of the pool, beads of water dripping down her barely concealed body. The swell of her breasts were so obvious with her wet bra exposing enough that it invited my darkest thoughts, her erect nipples pleading to be sucked while I plunged my cock balls deep into her while stretching that perfect pussy that was so beautifully accentuated by the soaking black lace that molded against her folds. I could feel my dick hardening even more—if that were possible—and my control softening again.

I shouldn’t have claimed her ass last night. What had I been thinking? It had just given me a sip of what I now knew I wanted to indulge in. I wanted it all. I wanted her. I wanted her like no one I had ever wanted before.

But she wasn’t mine.

I had to keep telling myself that. Beat that into my stubborn mind.

She. Wasn’t. Mine.

For the first time in my adult life, I couldn’t have what I wanted. It made me want to kill someone. It made me want to kill Marco Nunez.

When Anita stood in front of me, reaching to the plastic table beside me to collect her clothing, I couldn’t help but let my gaze fall to a tattoo of a poppy curving its way from her hip to her most intimate self, the reddish-pink of the ink playing peek a boo around the thin strap of her black panties. I wanted to reach out to her, rip those panties effortlessly off her, thrust my fingers past her velvety folds, making her cry out in pleasure. I wanted to pull her to me, my lips caressing hers, tasting the sweetness of her kiss, licking the desire beyond her mouth. I wanted to hear my name come out in pants, moans, whispers and pleas for more of what I so desperately wanted to give her.

Anita stood before me then, her clothing in one hand as she reached for a white towel with the other. As if unaware of what she had just put me through, she slowly pulled the fabric around her, covering herself from my watchful eye, and began rubbing her body dry. Only when she went to walk past me and back in the direction of our hotel room, did I reach out to her, my roughened fingers grasping around her throat. I squeezed just enough to show I meant business. Just enough to dominate. Just enough to remind her that I had the power, the strength and the control, even though I was fucking lying to myself. I was weak. She made me fucking weak.

“Do not push me today. I don’t have the patience. Understand?”

Anita stared up to me with wide eyes. Big brown eyes of shock rather than fear. She parted her sensual lips to help her gain the air that I restricted, but she never struggled or seemed afraid. It was almost as if my hand belonged on her neck and it somehow gave her comfort.

“Yes,” she squeaked out.

Slowly I leaned into her, kissed her full on the lips, hungry for the taste of her. Squeezing her neck a little tighter, but making sure her breaths could escape her pouty lips, I danced my greedy tongue with hers.

Hesitantly, I pulled away, releasing my choke hold on her. I placed my hand on her lower back and silently led her in the direction of our hotel room, trying to not overthink what I’d just done.

Drawing on the last of my waning control, I reminded myself she was just a cigar-girl at Spiked Roses and there were many of those waiting for me back home. As she put it… there was a room full of harlots and diamonds, and that is where this bastard belonged.

Chapter Fourteen

Anita

I stood in the bathroom naked, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my fingertips touching my neck where Kenneth had just choked me again. Again. I should be outraged, and yet… My breath caught in my throat when I realized that moisture of arousal blended with the remnants of the chlorinated water on my silky folds, throbbing in need. His show of power caused my body to betray me. My body was a deceitful bitch, but a bitch who knew what she wanted.

And she wanted.

Believe me, she wanted.

A tiny pulse thumped within my pussy, demanding more of what Kenneth had just given a glimpse of. He’d cracked the spine of a book that had yet to be opened, and chapter one had left me so hungry so see what would come. I was hooked. Hooked.

I had heard many stories from the other women at work about the passions a wealthy and powerful man could create in a woman, emotions that would cause her to want to offer her full submission if it meant she could be seized in his arms. Captured in his world… a world every woman at Spiked Roses so desperately wanted to be a part of. Many women at Spiked Roses I knew welcomed the role of dominance and submission willingly, some even craved it. Most spoke of how natural the dynamic was since these men exuded dominance from their pores. You only had to look at them and feel their control over you. You wanted their control. You prayed that you would be the lucky one chosen. The same women found me odd in that I didn’t necessarily agree. It wasn’t that I was some hard-core feminist or believed that women should never give a man power. It was simply the fact that I didn’t see it happening. I was prepared to fake it, however, for the sake of making good money. But I was not going to be like them. I didn’t have one submissive bone in my body. I was a damn good liar though. I could fake the arousal from blatant displays of dominance… until Kenneth that is.

Something about him. Something about what he had done to me in the last twenty-four hours made me relate to all the stories from the staff. I could see what they spoke of now. I could understand. I could finally agree. Up until now, I had thought the women were only blinded by the wealth. It had nothing to do with sexual dominance or the need to surrender to it. I’d thought it had boiled down to money and how desperately we all wanted even a fraction of what those men spent in one day. It wasn’t sexual… until now. Yes, with Kenneth, it had nothing to do with money. Hell, I lusted after him in a run down, cheap travel lodge.

I wasn’t naïve. I knew perfectly well what Kenneth would think of my actions when I left the cool water of the pool. I knew my nearly naked body would stir something in him. He was a man, plain and simple. I was a woman, and I knew the powers I too possessed. But for some reason, Kenneth was different—or at the least he made me feel different. The way he looked at me made me feel sexy, sensual, and beautiful. I had never felt beautiful before. It’s why I had the tattoos. They were beautiful. The colorful ink and the intricate artwork were all beautiful. I had beautiful on me, even though I didn’t feel it was in me.

Despite my unwillingness to show this man any surrender—at first—I found myself craving to know more about what this man wanted, what he desired, and even hungrier for him to demand my surrender again. Why? Why did I want this man to force my submission? Why did I like dancing along the dark edge of the cliff with this man? Why did I feel that I could unearth the devil from inside of him? And I wanted to. I so desperately wanted to.

I had never thought I would allow any man to truly dominate me. Maybe my body, for a price, but never my soul. I would never care what a man thought of me. Never. I believed that all men who frequented Spiked Roses were arrogant, entitled, cruel, selfish, and at times, even monsters. Filthy, disgusting, monsters.

I needed to remind myself of that belief, and stop giving Kenneth the power. I was letting him win. He was winning. He was seducing me, drugging me with his allure. I needed to get it together. But fuck! I wanted Kenneth to look at me more, with those eyes that made me feel beautiful… so beautiful.

Beautiful…

Yes, maybe I could use that to my advantage.

Maybe I would be able to change his mind and coax him to let me go free. Was it possible to seduce this powerful man? Could I get to his heart and not just his cock? He did think I was beautiful. I could see it. I could feel it. Could I use that as my weapon?

All my questions almost drowned me in thoughts, muddled my mind completely. I couldn’t think straight anymore, a weakness I couldn’t afford unless I wanted to get pissed on again by Marco. Or worse. Marco would make sure he did much worse to make me atone for what I had done. I’d run. I’d made him look weak. So he would no doubt prove to me he was far from it.

Getting dressed, I reminded myself that Kenneth had done little more than lead me back to his room. He had control. I wondered if I would be able to weaken it even the tiniest bit. I began to doubt he had even noticed my state of undress. Why should he? Women at Spiked Roses were near naked all the time, and he could have them naked with a slight nod of the head or flick of the wrist. Seeing me in a cotton bra and panties was nothing in his world. Being the man he was, Kenneth no doubt was immune to the female form. A man such as he, a rich bastard, was no doubt accustomed to desperate women throwing themselves at him, paying him with their carnal delights to guarantee their job at the club, or in hopes that they could get a taste of his life that he only showed to his girlfriends. Yes, his girlfriends had a luxury and a life we all dreamed of.

I exited the bathroom, prepared for my day. I needed to get away from this man and soon before he managed to return me to Marco, and before he could confuse me any further with his sexy draw. I couldn’t lose focus. I couldn’t give him that power. He already had enough.

My eyes settled on Kenneth’s figure standing near the window loading the bag. He was a very solidly built man, something I was sure had been obtained from good genes and maybe a personal trainer. Rich people always had personal trainers and chefs, but regardless how he did it, his muscles pressed against the fabric of his basic black tee. He was much taller than me, almost a full foot it seemed. His dark clothing seemed to match the dark aura he exuded. He glanced over his shoulder at me, obviously hearing me enter the room.

“We’ll be heading out now,” he said with no emotion at all. “Are you ready to go, baby doll? The driver is meeting us at the car.” His arrogance had returned—fucker.

Walking up behind him, I stopped only a few feet away. I wanted to reach out to him, to beg him not to return me, but I doubted he would suddenly hear my pleas of mercy and change his mind. If I was going to escape, I would have to be smart about it. Count on myself and only myself. If I had learned anything in my life, it was that one fact. If you wanted something, you needed to make it happen yourself. No one else would. You had to be your own defender, your own champion, and your own savior.

“Please call me Anita,” I finally said, my tone so soft, my words barely able to be heard. I expected to have more force, but I was storing up my fight. It would come. The fight would fucking explode from within, but I had to plan it right. “Pet names are for people you either care about, or are given in a condescending way. So, since it is obvious you don’t care about me, please stop calling me baby doll. Give me that, please. A little respect?”

Kenneth’s hands fell from the bag he’d been loading, and he turned to face me. “Number one, I will say and call you whatever I want. You have no dictate over me. Number two, if I wanted to be condescending, there are a bunch of other names I could call you. You aren’t calling the shots here, baby doll. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier it’ll be for you.”

I nodded. “I know my situation loud and clear. I do not need your constant reminder that I’m trapped in a world full of arrogant assholes.”

Kenneth huffed at my rebuttal. “We need to leave,” he said, walking over to the door and looking over his shoulder at me. “But you got that right. You are in a world full of arrogant assholes. I won’t argue with you there.” He stopped and stared at me. “Wait. What are you wearing?” he asked suddenly, looking up and down my body as if for the first time.

“What I wore yesterday. It’s not like you gave me time to pack.”

Kenneth stared at me for a few moments before squatting and digging into his bag. He pulled out a tiny black dress. It was a simple tank top style dress made from a soft light fabric. He tossed it at me and stood back up.

“What’s this?” I asked, confused as I caught what he tossed.

“I’m not going to deliver you to Marco looking like that. You look inexpensive. Lacking class. Spiked Roses does not deliver classless and inexpensive gifts.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped, feeling his insult like a slap to the face.

His eyebrow rose and warning washed over his face. “What was that? I’m sure you didn’t just say those words to me again. Not after last night.”

I paused, my heart skipped, and I swallowed hard, hoping to God he would allow that little outburst of mine a free pass. “You don’t have to insult me.” I unraveled the bundle of fabric and held it up to my body. “You want me to wear this? How do you know it will fit?” I asked awkwardly, never having someone buy me clothes since I was a child. I glanced down at the price tag still dangling from the dress. A quick peek told me the dress was worth more than I spent on rent last month. Jesus Christ. It was just a black dress.

“Yes. I didn’t bring you shoes, but your black boots will have to do. We’ll just go with the edgy look I suppose,” Kenneth said. He stepped aside to give me enough room to enter the bathroom again. “Go change. Hurry.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen my body.”

Kenneth didn’t crack a smile and appeared annoyed. “Anita, I don’t care what you do, or where you change. Just hurry up.”

I remained in place, studying his face, his stance, the way his eyes glared at me. Who was this man? “Or?” I taunted, knowing damn well I could be waking the beast though I couldn’t help myself. I felt like a junkie staring at a needle full of heroin knowing it could kill me and make me sick with addiction, and yet I couldn’t stop.

“Excuse me?”

“Or what? What if I don’t change my clothes?”

Closing the distance between us, Kenneth’s hand went behind my head, his fingers lacing in my hair, pulling me hard enough that a sting attacked my scalp. He kissed me hard, his tongue forceful against my lips, demanding entrance, his hand lowering to rest on my thigh, moving up to my ass. He swatted me hard, matching the sting on my head to the one on my behind. He swatted me again and again, yanking my hair even tighter as he dominated my mouth with his.

I gasped as my mind resisted, but my traitorous body pressed against his, wanting more of what I hoped he’d deliver. The sharp pain of his dominance fueled a desire inside my core. The harder he spanked, and the more he yanked on my hair, the more my body craved for more. I all but purred against his mouth as his tongue battled against mine. My palms rested on his chest as my mind wanted me to push away and fight back against his assault. But my hunger paralyzed my fists to where they were.

Kenneth reluctantly broke our embrace and growled, “Do not test me, baby doll. If you continue to do so, I’ll fuck you before I deliver you to Marco. Don’t think it stopped with what I did last night.”

He let out a steadying sigh, his hand releasing my hair as he took a step away from my shaking frame. “Now get dressed. Do not make me tell you again.”

Chapter Fifteen

Kenneth

I needed to keep my emotions in check. I couldn’t risk looking at this woman as anything more than a staff person who had a contractual obligation to fulfill. I needed to remember why I was returning her to New Orleans and just who was paying me in a round about way to do so.

“I’m dressed,” I heard Anita say softly from behind me.

When I turned, I saw a beauty that made my traitorous cock twitch. The tiny black dress on her body accentuated her natural curves even more than before. The fabric was barely thick enough to hide her perky nipples. There was no doubt about it; I wanted to claim her again. I wanted to caress every inch of her delicate pale white flesh, reveling in the sweet taste of her submission as she screamed out my name.

Fuck Marco.

Fuck Spiked Roses.

I wanted Anita Kyle for myself.

Losing all control, I walked over to her, my fingers traced unseen patterns along her cheek and down the dip between her breasts. Leaning into her, I kissed her lightly, silently begging her to push me away. Out of all the fucking times to choose submission, this was when she finally did.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She returned the kiss, and never offered the slightest resistance. I wanted her to resist. Why wasn’t she resisting?

Fuck.

Finally, I left her mouth, our stares hungry with passion. Wisely, I took several steps away from her, turning away, silently cursing myself.

Fuck. I had to regain control. I had to regain control.

“Where are you going?” Anita asked.

I stopped, turning back to face her. “I can’t do this,” I explained, my tone steady. “I won’t do this. I’m here to bring you to Marco for the good of Spiked Roses and the reputation of The Tasting Room parties. Nothing more.”

Again, I tried to turn away from her. Again, she called after me, stopping me as I opened the hotel room to leave. “Kenneth… where are you going?”

“We need to get on the road. The driver is waiting for us downstairs.”

“Stay.” She swallowed hard. “Please. I don’t want to leave yet.” She reached around me and closed the door, shutting us up in the room again. “I don’t want to leave you.” Her eyes gazed up and down my body, silently exposing her thoughts.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

I held Anita to me, my hands feverishly yanking her tiny dress over her head and away from her impassioned body, my own self yearning to feel this woman’s limbs tangled with my own. I knew I shouldn’t be here with another man’s property, certainly not about to fuck her into oblivion. I had a duty and obligation. I needed to stop this now before it went any further.

Yet, my throbbing cock, begging for release, ruled.

Having this woman here with me now, the softness of her only a breath away. The sweet smell of her desire adhering to my skin… the taste of her kiss on my lips… the spell.

I knew I had only meant to kiss her to show her what could happen to a woman who did not follow orders. To demonstrate to her there were consequences for her actions. To show that I was alpha and not to be crossed. What I hadn’t expected, though, was for her to return my kiss so eagerly, her hands clinging to my body as if her life depended on it.

And fuck. Maybe her life did depend on it. Maybe it fucking did. I’d started this trip not giving a fuck about this woman’s well being. But now I did—maybe the truth of the matter was that I always had. I cared.

Maybe that was her plan all along. Maybe she was using her pussy to seduce me. Maybe I was a fool being led around by my cock. But fuck me if I wasn’t growing weak.

The fact that she’d swum in her underwear prohibited her from wearing the wet garments. Her nude body standing before me revealed perky nipples begging to be touched. I couldn’t hold back my involuntary moan. My hands went to her breasts, cupping them gently, expecting any minute for her to resist my touch. I wanted her to resist my touch. This had to stop. It had to fucking stop.

I was weak. She made me weak.

Giving up all hope of holding back, I dipped my head into her breasts, my lips sampling her soft skin at the rise of her naked breast, my senses going into chaos at the mere taste of this woman. Taking her entire erect nipple into my mouth, the crash of pleasure filled me. My greedy hands moved from her thin waist around to cup her now exposed ass. I spun her around, holding her against me. Her back pressed up against my chest, letting her feel the hardness being restrained in my pants. This was my warning to her. Not that I could have stopped now had she wanted me to.

Anita turned to face me as her hands went to my chest, pushing me back away from her slightly.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, unsure if I would be able to contain the beast inside of me about to be unleashed.

With a look of surprise in her eyes, she asked, “Would you? Would you stop if I asked? If I demanded?”

“Would you ask me to?” I ran my finger down her stomach to the top of her pubic bone awaiting her answer as I teased the tiny patch of curls.

She didn’t answer me as her hands tore off my shirt effortlessly and then slid down the firmness of my stomach to the waistband of my pants. She struggled to try and unfasten the button, stopping only when my hands went to hers, halting them as her fingertips rested on the hair on top of my groin.

Her eyes went to mine, her look almost pleading. “Please, Kenneth… I know…” She swallowed hard as her eyelashes fluttered “I know what I’m doing.” Before waiting for my reply, she lowered my pants, releasing my pulsing cock from the painful confines.

I repositioned her, my arms holding her to me as I guided her gently to the hotel bed still unmade from the night before. I laid her back, supporting her head as I gazed at her up close. I tried to read her eyes, wide and excited, a light brown that twinkled in the sun rays beaming through the hotel window like an autumn leaf. I ran the back of one finger across her cheek, admiring the satin softness of her skin. I then used that same finger and trailed it down her body, stroking softly across her breasts, my eyes catching the flash of arousal and need in her face.

I smiled as I rubbed her breasts again, enjoying the firm globes and the pebble-hard tips as my fingertips brushed them again and again. Bringing my lips to the curve of her neck, I kissed a trail along her collarbone, to her stomach, and then to the little mound of curly hair between her thighs. Spreading her legs, I lifted one of her knees to my side, opening her pleasure to me.

Moving down, I rubbed her little clit, her skin soft as plush velvet. I growled a warning as her thighs clenched together. “Don’t.” One word was all it took for her to open her legs again. I wanted her spread wide before me.

Placing my finger at the wet seam of her pussy, I spread her lips gently. Her entire body trembled as her breathing turned to pants, and soft mewling cries spilled from her lips. This must be done—she would be mine. I had no choice. I had to taste her, lick her, soak up her juices as if my life depended on it.

I spread her slit wide with my exploring fingers, making room for my tongue. My upper lip twitched as I caught her scent—musky and sweet, spicy and wet. My mouth watered as my tongue slid inside her, plunging deep, savoring her essence with each pass of my tongue. I reveled in her, rolling her taste around my palate. Arousal flashed through me in an upsurge of sexual need. The primal hunger brought a pulling to my balls, and my cock begged to be satisfied. I needed her lips around my dick first, and then her tiny little cunt milking me dry. Yes, she unleashed the beast in me. I fucking needed her. I wanted her until she was raw, crying out, begging for me to stop.

I growled softly, drinking her honey, further roused at her response. Her taste drove me fucking wild as I swallowed her excitement, enjoying how it coated my lips with her delicious essence. Keeping her legs spread, I brought my finger back to her folds. Sinking it deep inside her, I penetrated her pussy, never taking my eyes away from watching a part of me enter what would soon be followed by my cock. Rubbing her walls, moving in and out, coating my finger with her juices, slowly I brought a second finger into play. One finger penetrated her, finger-fucking her slowly. The other finger gently rubbed her tiny clit that beckoned me from beneath her dark patch of curls.

I was hungry for her taste. I needed more. I increased the intensity of my licks, pressing my finger harder into her, my deep moans echoing her breathy cries. The tension was building, building higher with every lick of her wet pussy. I could make her come. So easily, I could make her scream out my name right now.

Her warmth drew me further and further inside of her now pulsing quim, a gasp of pleasure coming from her yet again. Anita’s body tensed as yet another orgasm brewed in her lustful little body.

Withdrawing, I reached and pulled her up to a sitting position, my cock a fraction of an inch from her lips. “Open.” She didn’t hesitate, and the moment her lips parted, I pushed inside her mouth. God, it was heaven the instant her lips sealed around my shaft. “Suck me before I fuck you,” I demanded. The sensation of her tongue darting over my flesh, the suction every time her cheeks hollowed had me grinding my teeth. Sweet Jesus, it felt incredible. Enough! I had other plans. “Release.” Her soft mewl of disappointment hardened me further. Pushing her backwards and moving on top of her, unable to hold back any longer, I plunged inside the warmth of this woman and straight through her silky folds.

Hearing her stifle her cry of pleasure mixed with pain, I stilled, unsure what to do next. I knew I wasn’t a small man, and usually the women I claimed all cried out. I’d never cared before about their comfort, but Anita was different. Her tight cunt squeezed around my dick, resisting my size.

“Am I hurting you?” I asked in a whisper against her face as I kissed her closed eyelids.

Preparing myself to be told she couldn’t take my size, I readied myself to pull out from her, but her knees squeezed against my hips, stopping me.

“Please don’t stop,” she pleaded, her hips rising up to meet mine again, her thighs spreading further apart, welcoming my cock further inside of her.

I didn’t move, even though my dick had a different idea. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Anita thrust her hips hard against mine, driving me deeper inside her no matter what. “I do. Hurt me, Kenneth. Fuck me so hard I cry out for you to stop. And then when I do cry out… fuck me even harder. I want to feel the pain. The bite of your cock until I think I can’t take another second. Don’t be gentle. I don’t want fucking gentle. I want the fucking thorns!”

Her words filled me with an animalistic hunger unlike any other, and following her direction, I plunged my throbbing dick deeper inside the tightness of her clenching core, again and again, my entire body blazing as the ecstasy nearly destroyed any control I had.

“Kenneth!” she screamed out in a mixture of carnality and pain, biting hard against my flesh, drawing blood as she did so.

An erratic moan escaped my lips as I drove my cock again and again into Anita’s now drenched pussy. A sudden bolt of self-indulgence shot through me, shredding my control to pieces. Being with a woman so passionate, so utterly abandoned that she would leave a mark of her own lustful hunger, fueled me even further.

She’d made me bleed. She’d fucking made me bleed, and I loved it.

“Fuck me harder. Fuck me harder,” she said between breathy pants.

I watched her breathing change, becoming fitful, deeper, her pouty mouth open and gasping. I followed her command and fucked her harder than before, smelling her arousal, feeling the temperature change in her body as her orgasm built again.

She was greedy. She was a greedy bitch and I loved it.

Feeling my own need for release growing by the moment, I wasn’t sure I could last long enough to hear her cry out again. Using my teeth, I bit her neck with a deep thrust of my cock, and it sent her soaring into orgasm. My cock drove deep into her pussy, feeling the inner walls quaking and rippling as they clenched around my flesh. I watched her skin flush to a rosy pink as the climax washed over her entire body.

I held my breath as I pushed, going deeper with each motion. My heart thumped against my chest as the heat of her core wrapped around my cock. Soaked in her honey, I fucked as deep as her tight channel would allow, her hips thrusting against me, pulling more of my girth inside her.

She arched her back, mouth open, howling into the room around us. Her pussy clenched around my thrusting cock, triggering my release, squeezing and milking the cum out of my body. It splashed deep inside her, filling her like a hot tide, washing her walls and trickling back to roll out around my still thrusting cock.

I tipped my head back as a second wave of cum shot through my cock to fill her again. I kept rubbing her clit until the last wave subsided. Thrusting deep inside of her one final time, I finally completed.

It took several moments for me to regain some of my control. I laid on top of her heavily-breathing-body as I steadied my pulse. With my face buried in her hair, smelling the orange blossoms of her shampoo, I questioned my sanity. Had I lost my fucking mind? What the fuck was I doing?

I’d fucked her.

No, I’d done more than fuck her. This was connecting. This was fucking connecting!

Hopping off the bed, furious with myself for allowing my dick to win over common sense, I reached for my clothes and quickly dressed without looking at Anita once. I could feel her eyes on me. They burned. They fucking burned.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting dressed. The driver has been waiting.”

Still not looking at her, I glanced around for my shoes that had been kicked off, my crumpled shirt, and my goddamn fucking mind that I had lost.

“So that’s it?” I could hear the pain in her voice. “Fuck me, and rush out the door? Really?”

“I’m not the cuddle and kisses type of guy, baby doll.”

Yes! There was my fucking mind. I’d finally regained some control again.

I saw her dress near my feet, and reached for it, tossing the bundle of fabric at her as she still laid on the bed.

“You need to get dressed.”

In the corner of my eye, I could see that she at least followed my orders and did so. I finished getting ready, gathering up our stuff, and tried my best not to glance her way. I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to fuck her again.

No!

No!

I had fucking lost my mind.

“We just had sex! And you are telling me we have to rush out the door!” Yeah, her hurt was quickly changing to outrage.

“I told you we had to get back to New Orleans.” I looked at her face for the first time since fucking her. Her voice may have been filled with rage, but I could see the pain in her eyes. Tears burned behind the beautiful brown. I knew it. She felt used. I could see that. I had seen it before many times before with all the other women I’d fucked.

Had I used her? No. Yes. No. Fuck. I didn’t know.

“What the hell? We just had sex! I’m not asking for cuddles and kisses, but maybe a fucking moment to breathe before you are tossing clothes at me and telling me to get out the door.”

“Let’s not make this a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, I don’t have time for emotions.” I was such an asshole. A fucking asshole. I wouldn’t blame her for one second for hating my ass.

I was dressed, things were gathered, and I reached for her shoes and passed them her way. She snatched them from my hands shooting daggers at me.

“Why are you doing this? You are a powerful man. You could fix this if you wanted to. I know that you could. You don’t have to do this.” Her face, and her words pained.

“It’s what is right. I’m a man of my word. Spiked Roses will always be trusted. If I bend the rules for you, then I set a precedence that will be the end of the club. Do you think I should risk everything for you?”

Anita bit her lip nervously, her stare lowering away from mine as she stood from the bed. She too was finally dressed with shoes on, so at least we were moving in the right direction.

“Would that really be so awful? You know damn well what is in store for me. You know Marco. He may even kill me just to set the precedence as you call it. Please, Kenneth. Stop for a second and listen to me. I understand you are a man of your word, but what about decency? Mercy? I mean, Jesus! We just fucking had sex. You had your cock buried up my ass last night. We’ve kissed. There is more going on between us, and you can’t just treat me like a package that means nothing to you. I know there is something inside you that is agreeing with me. You didn’t just fuck me and not care. You may be a bastard, but I could see it in your eyes. I could feel it as you kissed me. You don’t want this. You don’t want to deliver me to Marco and you know it. You don’t want to see me dead.”

I watched this woman before me, her words stabbing at my heart because I could see the fear in her eyes, and I could hear the slight tremble in her voice as she tried to reason with me. “I’m not going to allow him to kill you.”

Anita looked up at me as she took a step forward, our gazes meeting. “But as long as he doesn’t kill me, you don’t care what he does. No matter how awful it is? Is that what you are saying?”

“I’m saying it is none of my business what happens behind closed doors. You knew what you were signing on to. And if you really do fear for your life, then why the fuck aren’t you giving back the money? Did you spend it already?”

“Not really,” she mumbled, looking back at her feet.

“What does that mean? Do you have the money or not?”

“Yes, but I need it.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble? Drugs?”

She looked up at me, clearly offended. “No, of course not. I’m not a fucking junkie if that’s what you think.” She took a deep breath and continued with less venom laced between her words. “I have a dear friend who will be in need of money soon. I have to plan for it. It’s why I agreed to go to The Tasting Room to begin with.”

“Why does your friend need the money?”

“She just does. Does it really matter to you?” she snapped.

“No. You’re right. I don’t give a fuck.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked into the hallway, needing to breathe air that didn’t have the intoxicating smell of Anita Kyle.

“Where are you going?” she yelled after me.

“New Orleans.” I yelled back, my steps quickening. “Come on. Make sure you have all your stuff. Let’s get going.”

I heard the sound of the hotel door closing and the pitter-patter of her feet running after me down the hallway. When she caught up to me at the elevators, she looked at me with pleading eyes. “I’m asking you to not do this.”

I ignored her, struggling to not stare into those hurt eyes that ripped my heart in two. Watching the numbers above the elevator climb at an agonizingly slow pace, I could feel her gaze burning into me.

“You don’t have to be Marco’s bitch you know.” She huffed. “And here I thought you were a powerful man. Someone to fear, respect, and maybe even admire. You aren’t nothing but a pussy, doing the bidding of a truly powerful man.”

The elevator doors opened, and I shoved her not so nicely inside.

“I hate you,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Good.”

Hate was far better than whatever the fuck else was happening. Yes, I choose hate. Hate.

Chapter Sixteen

Anita

I quietly sat in the back of the car and stared out the window as we passed the highway markers at a rapid speed. I was unsure what I should say to Kenneth now. I had never allowed such passion, hunger, and unrestricted lust with any man before. Now that I had, I wasn’t sure what was next. He didn’t seem to even care that we had just had sex. It was a fuck and nothing more for him. But did I really expect anything more? And what did I really want from Kenneth? Cuddles and sweet words of love? No. No, I definitely didn’t want or expect anything sentimental, or caring from this man.

I refused to give even the littlest part of me to a man, or at least I always had believed that in the past. Every day of my life, every single moment was forced. People forced me, the universe forced me, life forced me to count on me. Me alone. No man ever would enter my heart. Impossible to have a broken heart if you never opened the heart to be broken in the first place.

Yet… there was nothing forced about what just happened. No, I’d wanted it. I’d begged for it. And even now, with his seed still seeping out of me, I wanted it again. Harder, longer, and with more domination than before. Oh God… I craved his control over my body that willingly surrendered.

“You can talk to me you know,” Kenneth said to me as he righted himself in the seat beside me. “This is going to be a long trip if you insist on a childish silent treatment.”

“I have nothing more to say. I said it. You chose to not hear me.”

“I heard you.”

“Fine. You chose to ignore me.”

“Yes, I chose to ignore you.”

Silence surrounded us again as the day passed us in a whirl of fast landscape, and my thoughts drifted back to the wild sex that still lingered between my legs. Having been held by Kenneth’s arms hours before, his lips on my pussy with such skill, driving me to pleasures I never dreamed existed, I ached to again feel such intense animalistic pleasure.

We had been on the road for hours, my thoughts and memories of what had happened with Kenneth tormenting my mind. But he was still a bastard. Kenneth Saxon was a goddamn bastard. I had to remind myself of that fact.

“Why?” I finally blurted out, not being able to sustain my vow of silence.

Kenneth looked over at me to quickly meet my eyes. “Why what?”

“Why do you care so much about Spiked Roses and its reputation? You have all the money in the world, so why do you care about a damn club?”

“First of all, how do you know I have all the money in the world?”

“Don’t you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I suppose.”

“So do you really need Spiked Roses? Aren’t you a big shot lawyer or something? Why don’t you focus on that rather than this shitty club that forces women to return to monsters to get pissed on?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“What’s so funny?”

“Remind me to never pee on you. It clearly traumatized you.”

“Wouldn’t it you?”

He laughed again. “I mean, it’s not the end of the world. It’s just piss.”

“Just piss?” I nearly choked on my own spit at the absurdity of what he’d just said. “You can’t be serious. Have you ever been pissed on?”

Still laughing, Kenneth said, “I will make a deal with you.” He started laughing even harder. The thin laugh lines around his eyes seemed to accentuate the deep brown. If I weren’t so appalled at his belief that being peed on was no big deal, I could have found myself lost in their depths.

“What kind of deal?”

“I will tell Marco that he can’t kill you, and he can’t pee on you again.” Kenneth barely was able to say the last words of the sentence because a deep belly laugh escaped his mouth.

“I’m glad you find this so funny,” I said as I crossed my arms against my chest and stared out the window.

“Well, it kinda is funny. Just think the stories you can tell your grandchildren. It’s not everyday you get pissed on by a ruthless mafia king.”

I tried to hide my smile. He had a point. A disgusting and twisted point, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I agreed. My experiences since starting to work at Spiked Roses would certainly make for an interesting story.

“So why did you come after me and not send someone else. Surely you have staff or someone who could have done the drive.” I still wasn’t satisfied with his response. Why did he care so much? Didn’t he have better things to do than worry about where I was, or what I did or did not do?

“If I didn’t do it, someone else would have from Marco’s camp. I didn’t want your life at risk. Plus, I learned a long time ago, that if you want something done right, you need to handle it yourself. We already had enough of a fuck up with you bailing. It looked bad for the club. I didn’t want any other fuck ups to add to the mess.” He paused and looked at me. “Reputation is everything. I wasn’t going to allow you to fuck with the reputation of a business I worked really hard to build.”

“I still don’t know why you care so much about that damn place. It’s just an overpriced bar and whore house,” I blurted.

“Maybe so. But it’s mine. It belongs to me and my friends, and that means a lot to me. I don’t fail at anything. I succeed. So the last thing I need is to have people talking about a staff member taking the client’s money and running. The Tasting Room and the parties would be over for good. And if we lose The Tasting Room, it would just be a matter of time until we would indeed become an overpriced bar and whore house.” He looked out the window and released a deep breath. “But that’s not going to happen. Because like I said, I don’t fail at anything.”

“Do you think it is right? What happens in The Tasting Room?” Why I asked or cared what Kenneth believed I wasn’t sure. Who cared what this asshole truly thought… but I did.

“It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters to the men who are doing the purchasing, and the women who are doing the selling.”

“But what do you think? What do you think of the men and the women?” I prodded on.

He looked at me and studied my face for a few moments before answering. “Is this your way of asking if I think you are a whore?”

I shrugged. “I don’t care if you think I am.” But I did care. I really did care. I didn’t want to be a whore. And somehow I had convinced myself that as long as I wasn’t agreeing to having vaginal sex, that I wasn’t truly selling my body. I had only agreed to be Marco’s pet—whatever that meant—but sex wasn’t in the contract. So, I wasn’t a prostitute. Or so I kept telling myself.

“I think you do care or you wouldn’t be asking.”

“Fine. Do you? Do you think I’m a whore?”

He shook his head slowly as his eyes locked with mine. “No. I don’t. But that doesn’t mean that I like what you did. You never should have agreed to the things you did with Marco. It’s not who you are.”

“How do you know who I am?”

“I’m good at reading people. It’s how I made a shitload of money in the courtroom. Not that it is hard with you. You think you hide your feelings, but I can see them. I can read them easily. From the moment you walked into the office interviewing for the job, I could tell you weren’t right for the club.”

“Then why did you hire me?”

He shrugged. “A lot of women hired aren’t right for the position. But I also knew you needed a job. Call me a bleeding heart. I don’t know. And I liked that you were honest, you were sober, and you were easy on the eyes. What you did from that point on was up to you. You didn’t have to go into The Tasting Room. And you definitely didn’t have to sign one of the harshest contracts with Marco.”

“Have you ever contracted someone?” I asked, not wanting to think of Marco and my awful fate signed with my blood any longer. I still had some time on this trip to not think of the devil waiting for me, and I wanted to take that time to pretend I wasn’t going to hell.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t felt the need.”

Jesus, the man was a closed book.

“You don’t want a woman who you can have do whatever you want?”

“I’ve had plenty of women do exactly what I want. I just don’t need a contract to make that happen.” He gave me a wink. “I got just what I wanted last night and today. No need for a contract.”

“Ass,” I mumbled, hating that he had that over me. Such an arrogant ass.

Chapter Seventeen

Kenneth

Sitting next to Anita was fucking killing me. I tried not to focus on the closeness of our bodies, or the taste of her sex still on my lips. I knew I never should have laid a hand on her. I certainly should have never fucked her. But I couldn’t stop; I couldn’t fight the urge. At least now that maybe we had released all the sexual tension, I could go about doing my damn job, returning her to Marco safe and sound, and getting back to Spiked Roses with the most expensive whiskey I could find. I had fucking earned it.

I hoped she hadn’t gotten any ideas in her head. We wouldn’t be riding off into the sunset like two lovebirds in a romance. We would never be together. And hopefully she didn’t think that one fuck would equal her freedom from honoring her contract. It wasn’t a possibility. I knew I was in no position to fantasize about the future nor try to take part in any form of a relationship. That just wasn’t who I was.

I fucked.

I did not love.

I had nothing more to offer than her safe return back to New Orleans, and I needed to make that clear to this woman before I started getting her hopes up.

I needed Anita to clearly understand that what had happened between us, the incredible sex we had shared, meant nothing. It would change nothing.

But damn… it had been incredible sex.

“Anita…” I started, pulling from my inner strength to remain firm, no matter what her counter would be. “About what happened.”

I could see her stiffen against the leather seat, and I knew immediately that she was priming herself for my harsh but true rejection. It was my duty to make Anita understand that there was no other way. We both had our roles—expectations that needed to be followed through with. Even though she’d said she quit, until she completed her contractual obligation, as far as I was concerned, she was a staff member of Spiked Roses… period. I was a managing member and owner. We had roles. We had fucking roles. Lust-filled, starstruck lovers were not, and never would be our roles. And if I kept telling myself that line of bullshit, I might actually start to believe it.

“Nothing happened. We fucked. Nothing special. Plain and simple. Now we move on,” she snapped.

I couldn’t ignore the slight wound her words caused. She rejected me before I could reject her. And it was special. It had been mind blowing incredible sex. Fucking incredible.

“About what happened.” I tried again, needing to clarify the situation. I felt out of control, and I didn’t like it one bit. There was no room for emotions in life. Emotions led to errors. Errors led to failure. “I shouldn’t have allowed anything to happen like that. I know a lot of men at Spiked Roses could care less who they fuck, and they fuck the staff all the time. But I have really been trying to change that. So it was never my intention to have what happened happen.”

“Nothing happened, Kenneth,” Anita said. “A moment of passion. We’re human. Weak. Even stupid. But all is forgotten.” Her voice rang so cold, so flat. Apparently, Anita had no room for emotion in her life either.

Her dismissal of what was by far the most intense sexual experience of my life angered me. I should be the one, not her. “Anita—”

“Kenneth,” she cut off, her tone severe, slicing through the awkwardness like a knife. “This is a non issue. It was just a stupid incident that both of us can forget. Nothing worth discussing happened, and that’s exactly it. So let’s let this topic die, shall we?”

“It wasn’t just an incident and you know it!” I barked, my fury with her constant denial attacking my ego. I should let it be and move on, but for some reason I couldn’t. And I was showing my cards. I knew better than that. Never show your cards!

“It was nothing.” She shrugged and looked out the window. “Nothing to write about in my diary or anything.”

“Oh I disagree. Your body betrays you, baby doll. I seem to remember your wet pussy desperate for my cock to be inside of you. I think I even remember some pleading to fuck you hard.”

I smirked when I saw her eyes widen and her mouth open in shock as she turned to me. Seeing the vehemence in her eyes gave me the power back. I couldn’t stand her nonchalance before. Anger meant her emotions were mine. I was the puppet master once again. If she hated me, it meant I got to her. I was in her mind. I was in her soul. Now I could strike whenever I wanted. The predator and the prey.

“You wanted me to hurt you. You wanted me to make you scream. I would say that our incident was definitely more than you want to admit.”

Lifting her free hand, Anita slapped it hard across my face. “You monster! I’m so sick of you.”

Grabbing her by the wrist, I pulled her to me, our faces a breath apart. “Call me what you will. I am a monster. I’ve never tried to hide that fact.”

She looked at me, our stares joined, tears of rage filling her eyes. “Fuck you!” she hissed.

“What did I tell you I would do if you slapped me? And what did I tell you I would do if you said ‘fuck you’ to me again?” I took a deep breath to control my temper, realizing I needed to regain my composure. Even though my blood boiled over, I was a man of my word, and no woman would take that away from me.

* * *

Anita

I was in trouble. The look in his eyes, the way his voice dripped with venom, oh yes, I had pushed the man too far.

“I didn’t mean to slap you. I shouldn’t have said what I did,” I tried to offer, wishing I hadn’t let my temper get the best of me. Anything to undo his wrath. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Even though I said the words, I had the urge to twist his balls, kick him, poke him in the eyeball with a fork, and slap him over and over again. But I wasn’t foolish enough to actually let him know that. I would say sorry and beg for forgiveness just to avoid the wrath that I felt sizzling up to the surface.

“You will be sorry, and yes, I will make damn sure it never happens again,” he growled. He released his tight hold of my wrist and began unfastening the leather belt around his waist. “Remove your dress.” He paused to look at me straight in the eye. “I advise you to not offer any resistance or your punishment will be far worse.”

“What?” I asked as I glanced at the glass divider that separated the driver from us. It was see through. All he would have to do is look in his rear review mirror and catch the show of his life. No fucking way. What was this man thinking to even suggest such a thing?

Kenneth followed my eyes and could see what I was looking at. He leaned forward and pushed a button that made the glass of the divider black out. “He won’t be able to see a thing.”

“Yeah, well… he’ll be able to hear. You’ve lost your mind if you even think I’d consider doing what you just had the nerve to ask.”

“Now.”

Fuck, he meant it. I could see it in his eyes. His jaw tightened and the resolve was washed all over his face. He had proven to me already that when he meant something, he really meant it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I could beg and plead. I could even try to open the car door, jump out, and take my chances with the pavement. But I was no fool. This punishment was going to happen one way or the other. He had warned me, and I knew enough to know there was no turning back.

Fine. Let’s get this over with.

Taking a deep breath, and straightening my shoulders, I lifted the fabric of my dress up over my head, allowing it to fall gracefully to the floor without making eye contact. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and yet so very fascinated.

The swift noise of the leather belt being removed from his waist sent a shiver down my body, my breasts with hardened nipples revealing my erotic cravings. His deep stare as he folded the belt in half and tested its strength against the palm of his hand caused my pussy to quiver. The control this man had on me…

I was naked all because he told me to strip. I was sitting here about to have him use his belt on me because he demanded it so. What in the world had gotten into me?

“Turn around and let me see that ass of yours,” he commanded.

I stoically did so without hesitation. I had truly lost my mind. Why did he have such a power over me? How could I hate the man so much, and yet do what he was asking? Did I want to do this?

Yes, I did. I fucking did.

“Good girl,” he praised. “This belting won’t be nearly as bad as it would have been had you resisted me.”

Did he just say belting? And why did my pussy throb at the word? It was the rattlesnake again. I wanted to be bit. I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to dance with the poison lurking in the shadows.

Bending over and bracing my hands against the door, I could feel the cool air of the air-conditioned car dance across my taut flesh. My contorted body sizzled with anticipation of the first sting.

Bite me rattlesnake.

Bite me.

I closed my eyes and prepared for the lash of leather, trying not to focus on the moisture forming along my sensitive folds. I also tried not to focus on the fact that he would be able to see the signs of arousal as my pussy lips peeked between my inner thighs.

The pressure was building on the base of my spine. I needed this. I wanted the leather against my flesh. God help me… why? Why did I have this need to dance with the viper? Why did I want him to eat me alive?

Crack.

It was as if I heard the sound before the searing heat attacked my ass. I whimpered uncontrollably as I ground my teeth together to fight the urge to plead for mercy. But also so I wouldn’t scream for more and for harder.

Again came another, and another, and another. He rained down the leather to my punished behind over and over, until I could no longer take the pain and howled out in agony. The driver had to have heard me, though the car continued to drive on. I no longer maintained my grace and pleaded between gasps for Kenneth to stop.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have slapped you!”

Fuck that belt stung.

I liked it.

I hated it.

I loved it.

I detested it. My head spun as my body drowned in arousal and pain.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” was his simple reply as he continued on with the spanking.

“Please, it burns!” As did my core. My core burned for more. I wanted so much more.

“It should.” The spanking continued. The belt landed expertly on all areas of my exposed flesh. Had he done this before? The way he wielded the leather had my body humming, and he no doubt was a master at his craft. Kenneth Saxon knew what he was doing. No doubt about it.

My fingers clawed at the door, my back arched. I couldn’t take it anymore and no longer could hold my position. I spun around and sat on the leather, shielding my ass from his discipline, not sure what my weakness would mean in retaliation. In the corner of my eye, I could see that Kenneth placed his belt back through the loops of his pants. I sighed in relief to know my punishment was over, and yet, the rattlesnake lover in me missed the bite already.

Kenneth grabbed my ankles, pulling me toward him, the friction against my scorched flesh causing me to moan as I fell back, my shoulders braced where my hands had been only moments before. He placed his hand between my thighs and pressed them apart until his fingertips reached my soaking wet pussy. Dipping his finger into my vagina, he purred, “I see that you like the sting of my belt.”

I shook my head, even though I knew he spoke the truth. The punishment burned on my sensitive behind, but burned even deeper within. I ached for more. I wanted desperately for his finger collecting my juices to be replaced with his cock. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing, so I shook my head again.

“Oh yes, baby doll. Your body tells a different story.” He pulled his finger from my sex, causing me to fight the urge to moan in hunger for more. He leaned forward and placed his finger covered in my cream to my lips. “Taste for yourself.”

Without waiting for me to open, he pressed his finger past my lips, forcing me to taste my own arousal. The musky, salty taste surprised me, but not nearly as much as my next act. As if possessed, I sucked his finger into my mouth deeper, twirling my tongue around to lick every last drop of my own essence.

I could hear his breath hitch as his finger pulled out of my mouth.

He reached down to my clit and ran his finger around the little nub. In small circles, his finger caressed, dipping down and drenching it with my juices even more. He then took his wet finger, coated thickly, and placed it at my puckered entrance. He didn’t wait for me to process what was happening and began to push past the tight hole, spreading my essence all around.

He stopped and gave me an evil smile. “You like this too. You like something in your ass.”

I shook my head. Again, knowing that I was lying, but I couldn’t admit to my shameful secret.

He pulled out his finger and then picked up my dress, tossing it onto my lap to cover my bare bottom half.

I nearly groaned, not wanting to lose his seductive hold over me. But I had finally figured Kenneth Saxon out. He liked having control. All the fucking control. And once again, just like that—he was the bastard, and I was the fool who was caught under his dirty hex.

I closed my eyes, trying hard to ignore the heat in my stomach, and the wetness of my pussy his closeness caused. There was a time I had considered seducing him into letting me escape. An act that meant nothing but my freedom. But now I wondered if it would merely be an act. I had lost control. More than once. And I could see myself continuing to do so. I lusted—insane yes—but I wanted Kenneth to take me again. I didn’t want to wonder if and when. I wanted it to be a given. A given that every time either of us wanted it, we would have it. I was sick of the cat and mouse. I wanted him to be the tiger, and me the feast. I was so damn hungry for him. He had sucked every ounce of control from my body. He had sucked me dry.

Kenneth rubbed the top of my thigh, a shudder going through me as I felt his hands lowering to the juncture, but then pulling away quickly. “I shouldn’t want this, Anita. You belong to another. You are owned. That contract meant something. Spiked Roses stands behind what is—”

“Fuck Spiked Roses,” I snapped, wanting his hand to return, to continue its descent to my waiting pussy.

“That’s not how this goes. You know it, and I don’t feel I have to keep saying this over and over again. Nothing will change. You signed a contract and Marco owns you for the next two weeks.”

I looked at him then, my eyes rising to meet his. “I don’t belong to anyone.” I corrected, my words barely more than a strangled whisper. “But for right now, this instant, I will belong to you if you would just stop being so cruel. Stop fighting this. Fighting us.”

Was I the only one who felt this magnetic compulsion between us? Was the sexual energy and the intense feelings only one sided?

Kenneth’s lips on mine stopped any further questions I may have had, his hands busily yanking at my dress, making claim on what I willingly offered.

I was fevered beyond rational thought. With a deep breath, he seemed to calm. He seemed almost gentle as his palm caressed me, silently commanding me with his fingertips to spread my legs and to position myself for his onslaught. He held me open, wide and exposed to his view, and I trembled as his mouth claimed my pussy. The wet heat of his tongue probed my channel. Before Kenneth, I had no concept of desire. And yet, desire was all I felt for this man. Desire mixed with a hunger so intense my entire body quaked beneath his touch.

Holding me in place, his mouth brought me a pleasure that almost burned. I was approaching the fire, knowing damn well I shouldn’t put my hand in the flame, but I couldn’t resist. Delicately, Kenneth flicked and nudged through my folds, finding the center of my uncontrolled heat and probing deeper inside. Pulling out, he rolled the tip of his tongue across my sensitive nub then trailed a path of moist fire down my slit to my tiny bottom entrance. The tip of his tongue tapped me there, teasingly, doing a small circle along the puckered flesh, then went back on the reverse journey, saturating me, laving me, tasting me, then plunging even deeper into my core again and again. My body quivered, and I cried out as his tongue worked me over—in and out, small circles, large strokes, up and down.

I knew I was about to come. I had never reached completion in my life except by my own hand before Kenneth. It wasn’t like I had a lot of options living at exit 222, mile marker 51. It seemed unfamiliar to have someone else bring my body to this level of arousal so easily. It was strange, forbidding, the tension so much greater than anything I’d ever achieved. I could feel my body pleading to let go, to go over the edge. I was almost there and prayed he wouldn’t stop again just to teach me, to school me that there was only one person in control of what happened. He was the master, and I was the slave to his touch. To his claim. To whatever the man wanted if it meant him giving me what I wanted—what I needed—what I had always needed but never found before him.

I threw my head back, giving in. At that moment, my body was under his rule, to decree however he pleased. And it seemed to please him to suck on me again and again, in and out, twisting gently to one side then the other, as though stretching me for something else. Mindless in pleasure, I no longer was a woman with a man I barely knew in the back of a car. I was only there to be pleased. I blocked out everything else but the extreme need for him to thrust his cock deep inside of me. His mouth and tongue were not enough. I needed all of him. I could barely wait for when he would bring the broad tip of his cock to touch my folds and spread me so wide I would once again feel the fangs of the snake.

But once again, Kenneth stopped. He sat up, once more draping my dress over me, and scooted over to his side of the back seat.

He’d stopped, but I wasn’t surprised.

Ignoring what had just happened, he looked out the window into nothing and pretended I wasn’t there.

Bastard.

Bastard.

Chapter Eighteen

Kenneth

“We’re here,” I announced as we pulled up the circular driveway that sat in front of the large plantation house. A house that years ago housed rich men who owned slaves. Funny how nothing really had changed over time.

“Yeah, we’re here,” Anita mumbled under her breath.

For a brief moment, I could see she considered escape again. She had glanced down at the door handle, and knew she wondered if she would be able to open the door, hop out of the vehicle and head to the bayou that surrounded the property and hide with the gators. The gators would be safer than Marco Nunez. She would be better off taking her chances with the beasts in the wilderness than the beasts all around her now.

“It’s not too late. You can cancel the contract right now. Do you want out of this?” I asked, actually feeling concerned. I wanted to help her, but she needed to help herself. She could help herself.

“You know I do.”

“Well then, you know what you need to do. Give the money back. Where is it?”

She shook her head. She was going to stand by her decision. So, if that meant getting pissed on and smacked around a bit, then so be it.

“You really are infuriating,” I said as I got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her.

I walked with my hand on Anita’s lower back up the long walkway toward Marco’s mansion. It was going to take all my might not to rip off Marco’s arm from his body if he so much as touched Anita in any violent manner. No sooner had we reached the door than Marco opened it with fury in his eyes.

“It’s about time,” he began as he scowled at both Anita and me. “Go up to my study, Anita, where we were before and wait for me,” he ordered.

Anita didn’t hesitate. She didn’t look back. She simply walked away like a lifeless robot. Had I stolen all the life from her?

“Everyone but Kenneth leave,” he commanded to the entourage of his shitheads who’d entered the house along with me.

No sooner had the last man walked out the door, than Marco took hold of my collar, bunching the fabric with his clenched fist. His other hand held my arm behind my back painfully. He forced me down the hallway and into the front room.

“What the fuck happened? You all assured me when I paid for her and signed that contract that everything would go smoothly. How is one of your staff members running off with my goddamn money everything running smoothly? I had your word, Mr. Saxon. I take a man’s word seriously,” Marco said, slamming me into a chair.

I suppose I could have resisted and tried to put up a fight, though most likely would have ended up being killed by the end of it. Marco had men all around, so even if I escaped Marco, other men would be waiting. Where the fuck was Harley Crow now? Fuck me, I should have let him handle this whole mess from the very beginning.

I held strong against him, showing no signs of weakness or surrender, yet I struggled to maintain my temper. I couldn’t fight him—even though I had a good chance of winning the battle—but I had to also consider Anita in all this. If I pissed Marco off too much, he would just have me and Anita killed and wash his hands of the whole dirty situation.

“You did have my word, which is why I personally delivered her back to you. I take that contract you had with her and Spiked Roses very seriously. I too believe in a man’s word,” I answered him. “I can understand why you are pissed.” As I said the last word, the vision of Marco pissing on Anita came to mind and I internally scolded my sick sense of humor.

Marco studied me, no doubt looking for any reason to hurt me. “So the contract is still in place?” Marco asked me. “I can do what I had planned?”

I nodded, hating myself as I did so. “Unless she wants to terminate it and give you the money back.”

His eyebrows rose. “Does she?”

“No,” I said. “She wants to keep the money and plans to earn it as agreed upon.”

“I want extra days,” he added. “The days she was gone don’t count.”

“Of course. And because of all the problems, Spiked Roses is prepared to waive your yearly dues. Consider it our apology, and hopefully it will not taint you on future tastings in The Tasting Room.”

He didn’t say anything, but crossed his arms against his chest and stared at me.

I cleared my throat. “Miss Kyle got scared off. She is new to this, and although she is wrong and knows it, she really meant no ill will.”

“I’ve killed people for less than that. She stole from me.”

I nodded. “I can see how you would feel that way. But I assure you, she did not intend for it to come across as stealing from you.”

Again, Marco said nothing but just studied me.

“But, Marco, I need to have your word that no harm will come of her. I can’t leave here until I have your word. And since you believe in the power of the word, as do I, I know I can trust it. You can not kill her, or torture her, or do anything that is not spelled out in the contract.”

Reaching for a knife in his belt, Marco placed the tip of the dagger at my neck, piercing my flesh until blood was dripping down and staining the cotton material of my shirt. Marco stared at me directly in the eyes, assessing, waiting for me to cry out in pain, to beg for him to stop his torture and have mercy on me. He was trying to scare me. He was trying to prove he was the mighty mafia and could kill me, bury me, and no one would be the wiser.

I refused to give him the satisfaction, remaining silent, barely flinching as the blade cut into my skin even though the fire sizzled along my flesh. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. It was bluff. He wasn’t an idiot. He would have had to deal with the wrath of the other members of Spiked Roses. Even if you took the lethal Harley Crow out of the equation, each man would rain down their wrath on Marco and his goons if they did kill me. Marco wasn’t a stupid man. A motherfucker, yes. But not stupid.

“Did you fuck her?” Marco asked, bending down close to my ear, the blade still threatening. “Did you fuck her while she was under contract with me?”

When I didn’t answer right away, Marco pressed the dagger into my neck a little further. I was going to kill this motherfucker… but I had to keep Anita in mind. If I acted rashly, she would surely pay the price too. No witnesses. No mess. But enough was fucking enough. Reaching up, I grabbed his wrist pulling the knife away, my eyes locked on his.

“I admit I owed you one, but if you ever put a knife to me again, the outcome will be different.” Dropping my hold on his wrist, I stood, forcing him to step back, never looking at the knife, never allowing my gaze to drift from his.

“Did you? Did you fuck that tight ass of hers?” Marco demanded, his anger bubbling over at my reaction, and yet he slid the knife back into its sheath. Just like in a courtroom, the calmer and more collected I was, the better chance I had of winning.

“Yes.” It took all my might to not beat the living shit out of the man for having the audacity of being so fucking stupid as to threaten my life. “Do you blame me?”

“No, I guess I don’t.” He smiled. Sick fucker. “I bet it was good.”

I shrugged. “Nothing you and I haven’t had before.” Lying between my teeth, but I didn’t want the asshole to picture having amazing, mind blowing sex with Anita. No fucking way.

“Maybe I should have added that to the contract,” he said as he took a few steps back.

I shrugged again. “Not worth the money if you want my opinion. It’ll cost you a pretty penny and frankly… mediocre pussy.”

“Yeah, the pretty ones are usually the worst fucks,” Marco said as he walked toward the door. Looking over his shoulder, he added, “I’m sure you can show yourself out. I have a contract to honor on my end.” With that, he left the room leaving me tempted to kill the motherfucker with my bare hands.

Chapter Nineteen

Anita

“Let go of me. You’re hurting me,” I snapped, my words laced with pain. “You might be pissed off at me, but you can’t cause bodily harm. It says so in the contract.”

He only squeezed my arm harder, not seeming to care about the bruises that undoubtedly would be inflicted. I suppose I should have been grateful that he hadn’t beaten me to death, or killed me in some other tortuous way the minute he entered the room. But I couldn’t cower for the man. I couldn’t.

“You have been a very, very bad pet. Do you know what I do to bad little kitties?”

I readied myself for the fury that was about to be unleashed on me. Marco was not a gentle man, this much I could figure out. Nor a caring, a compassionate, or a man of mercy. Tennessee had warned me. The girls at the club had warned me. And yet, I was the stubborn idiot who not only signed on to his list of kinky demands, but I’d taken the money and ran. I couldn’t blame the man for being angry. Not really. I was the one who broke the rules. Not him. But I still hated him, and he was nothing but a disgusting monster in my book. The look in his eyes exuded evil. The devil himself could not have looked any more menacing.

“Did you have fun running away only to be caught? Is that how you like it? You want your body to be taken? You say no but you really mean yes? You’re just lucky I didn’t put a hit on your bitch ass.” His laugh cut through every ounce of bravado I could gather.

What good would begging do? He wouldn’t change his mind. He wouldn’t grant me leniency for my crime. No pardon in his world. And even if I wanted to terminate the contract and give back the money, something told me that all negotiations were over.

Slap!

The sound of his open hand making contact with my cheek crashed in my head louder than any noise I had heard before. But there would be no bruise bad enough to cry foul. A slap was not in violation of the contract. No blood. No damage. Just a fucked up way to treat a woman. Who slaps women across the face these days?

Marco Nunez apparently.

The shock, the stunned surprise—whatever it was had mercifully saved me from retaliating and attacking like a pitbull. I would have never allowed a man to hit me. Never. Not if he wanted to keep his hand. But this was different. What could I do? Scream? Cry? Fight back? I had no real viable option other than to continue to stand there in stunned silence.

“Take your fucking clothes off and become my pet,” was his only command.

I hated him. I hated this. Was the money worth it? No, but I had already climbed the hill that I would die on. The battle had begun and there was no choice but to see it through.

Putting up a fight, screaming, pleading—all would fuel his hate. Weakness only made him stronger. My only hope of enduring this night—these two weeks—was by doing as he ordered and try not to add to his evil onslaught.

I did as he asked, removed my dress, and lowered myself on all fours before him, awaiting his next command.

“Suck me, my dirty bitch,” he said as he lowered his pants revealing his flaccid penis.

My stomach recoiled at the thought of placing his limp, shriveled nub on my tongue, but I also knew I had no choice. Hopefully, if I performed the act well enough, I wouldn’t have to do anything else because he would be too exhausted from coming and not be able to do anything but sleep like the lazy fucker he was.

Closing my eyes in hopes I could ease the nightmare before me, I placed his salty flesh in my mouth, struggling not to gag when his musky scent entered my nostrils. My eyes watered as I desperately tried not to vomit all over his bristly pubic hairs.

His moan burned my ears. I hated giving this man pleasure of any sort. As his hips thrust his growing cock further into my mouth, I dutifully bobbed my head up and down, refusing to let this man take what very little was left of my soul. Up and down, up and down was the cadence I silently chanted. I could… and would survive this, but I was so ashamed. So very ashamed of what I had become. Nothing was worth this. Nothing would make this right. I had become a whore. There was no euphemism, and no way to sugar coat the situation that I had willingly placed myself in.

He fisted a chunk of my hair. “There’s no escaping me,” he said as if he was the all mighty master. If I hadn’t been closing my eyes, I would have rolled them at how little I respected this man. “You belong to me. You make no choices.” He moaned and thrust even deeper, filling my mouth with his creamy seed without warning. “You make no choices, bitch. None. I make them all,” he grunted as he pumped his hips against my lips, emptying himself completely in the back of my throat. I considered spitting it back out, but again, I needed to pick my battles. Maybe this evening would end with just a vile blowjob.

He kept his dick in my mouth until it began to soften. I did nothing more but remain in position, swallowing the last remnants of his filthy essence as I tried to block out the black demons in my mind that threatened to consume me with despair.

“Lick me clean, my kitty. Lick every last bit of my milk.”

He was a sick motherfucker, and I wanted to gouge out his eyes with my kitty nails. Yes, I’d be his pussycat. Let me claw the fuck out of him until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.

“Stay on all fours, pet,” he commanded as he pulled up his pants. “Spread your legs wider so I can see that little kitty of yours.”

I did so, not allowing the panic in that knocked on my soul. But my body involuntarily shook as I waited to see what would happen next.

“Put your face on the floor and spread your legs further. I want to see that tight puckered hole of your ass before I punish it raw.”

Giving me only a second to do as he asked, Marco placed a cold metal dildo at my opening. I didn’t need to look back to know what it was, but when I pushed up on my elbows and glanced back, my assumptions were correct. But what surprised me was at the end of the dildo was a fur tail, giving off the impression of a kitty tail. He was going to fuck my ass with a kitty tail dildo. I could also see that the dildo was so large that no matter how relaxed I tried to be, the dildo would spread my anus to the point of maybe tearing. Fuck what if he tore me? It would be against the contract and cause bodily harm, but by the time I could cry breach, it would be too late. I would have a torn asshole. My only saving grace was that the metal was so smooth it slid in easily enough, because lube was clearly not something Marco believed in.

In it went. No ease, no waiting until my body naturally allowed entry, nothing but a firm thrust. This was not at all like the erotic sensations of what Kenneth had given me. This was not Kenneth in any way. And, of course, Marco didn’t allow my bottom hole to adjust to the intrusion as he began thrusting in and out, quick and strong. I whimpered, but I would not cry out. I would not give the man the power of knowing how the painful and humiliating punishment ripped at my shattered soul even more.

In went the metal dildo—feeling as if it had ripped me in two. Out went the dildo—expanding my tight entrance to the point where my whimper turned to an uncontrolled scream. The fur of the kitty tail brushed against my upper thighs and along the seam of my ass. With tears running down my face, I could no longer show courage because I had none left. My body hurt, my soul destroyed by the excessive anal abuse coming down on me.

“Please,” I cried out. Not for Marco’s ears since I knew my plea would mean nothing to this vile creature. But I called out to the angels of mercy around me, begging for something. Desperately pleading to anyone or anything. “Please, please, please,” I cried out. “Please.”

“You are my pet. My kitty. Meow for me as I fuck your ass with your dirty little tail.”

What the fuck? What was wrong with this man? Was he getting off on this?

“Now,” he commanded as he shoved the kitty dildo up my ass further. “Meow like a good little pussy. Be my dirty kitty.” He pushed the dildo in harder. “Now!”

“Meow,” I squeaked as the anal rod plunged even deeper into my back channel. “Meow.”

“That’s my dirty, dirty pussy. Master likes his dirty kitty when she meows. Again!” He punctuated every syllable with a push or pull of the punishing tool.

“Meow.” What more could I say? What more could I do?

“You are my bad pussy, and I will lock you in a cage for trying to escape.” He jammed the dildo even deeper, harder. The fur of the tail made contact with my anus, telling me that the large dildo was fully inside of me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. And I was. I was so sorry that I did this to myself. So sorry that I had allowed greed to put me in this situation. Nothing, and no amount of money was worth this. I would rather be the poor trailer trash on exit 222, mile marker 51 eating expired canned beans than this.

Should I scream out the safe word? I could end it all now. Give the money back. I could… but no.

No, motherfucker. You pissed on me, and now you fucked me in the ass with a kitty cock.

He owed me that fucking money. He owed me!

Minutes felt like hours as the brutal ass fucking continued, but eventually Marco grew tired, or bored, and threw the anal device to the ground. “Get cleaned up and compose yourself. Your punishment is over for now. Let’s go put you in your cage, dirty pussy cat.” He gave his maniacal laugh again.

Chapter Twenty

Kenneth

Staring into my glass of the most expensive whiskey that I could find behind the bar, I struggled to focus my thoughts. Since arriving back in New Orleans and Spiked Roses, I’d wanted nothing more than to charge to Anita’s side, hold her to me and take her away from the nightmare of that fucked up contract. Marco was a son of a bitch and honestly deserved to die. I also knew, though, the recklessness of such a thought. I had considered telling Harley everything that had happened. Harley Crow would kill Marco without giving it a second thought. But as I touched the bandage on my neck, I knew that having Harley do something would only cause problems for the club. I had worked too damn hard trying to make all our problems go away.

Why the fuck did Anita sign that damn contract in the first place? And why was she so damn stubborn? All she had to do was give the money back. She’d said she hadn’t spent it yet, and I believed her when she said so. So, why the fuck would she put herself through all of what Marco had in store for her?

We were not in a relationship, other than the few passionate encounters we had shared. I couldn’t just claim her as mine, sweep her up into my arms, and take her away from all the evils of this fucked up world. If I even tried, Marco wouldn’t exactly be open to the idea. I didn’t need to start a war between Marco’s camp and Spiked Roses. It would be our undoing and not cool to make my issues the issues of my business partners.

I was also smart enough to know that trying to rescue and take Anita away would put her in even more danger than before. Depending on which hit man Marco sent after us, the danger could be even worse than what she was already living with.

I knew Marco Nunez to be ruthless and he always got what he wanted, especially if his ego and pride were involved. But I couldn’t allow her to serve her two-week sentence. There was no fucking way. And the fact that I let her go made me just as much of a monster as Marco… if not even worse.

The thought of buying out Anita’s contract came to mind over and over. If Marco even allowed it, that is. Going in and simply handing over the money and taking Anita away would piss off Marco. It would attack his ego. So I knew I had to make it seem like a legit business deal. Make the man believe I wanted what he had and was willing to pay for it. If I went about it as delicately as if I wanted to buy a rare painting he was in possession of, he may be willing to hand her off to me.

But would Anita even want that? Honestly, I had no idea what the woman wanted. I had never actually taken part in The Tasting Room for myself. I wasn’t interested in owning a woman or having to pay for any services. Though I had sexual tastes that certainly bordered on taboo, I had never had an issue convincing willing partners with my charm alone. That and money. A shitload of money gives any man charm.

Relationships were not going to happen in my life. I hadn’t really had a girlfriend since college. I didn’t operate like that. I was a selfish son of a bitch, and I liked it that way. I actually enjoyed the freedom of being without one. Fuck and farewell.

But there was no doubt in my mind that Anita and I had some form of hot chemistry. I didn’t want to admit to it, but the woman had my balls in a goddamn vise. Her body willingly submitted to me, almost screamed out for more of my dominance. But her mind? That was a completely different story. She fought me just as I fought her. Mental warfare on both of our parts, and I couldn’t tell who was winning.

There was something about Anita that fascinated me to the point where I had woken from my sleep, my body drenched in sweat, my mind reeling with images of her naked brilliance, her sultry words begging me to take her in ways no decent woman should want, should crave, should demand with every move of her body. She was a dirty, dirty girl, and I fucking loved it.

This woman held the power… and I was willing to risk everything, including my life, to get her back.

Yes, I wanted her back.

I wanted her back.

I should have never let her go.

What the fuck was I thinking handing her over? Anita had been right. I was a weak pussy. I was so focused on doing everything right, to not fail at my mission, that I hadn’t realized that I just failed. I failed her. I had fucking failed her. I was ashamed of myself. She had asked for help. She had begged. But I was so driven and focused on my original goal that I couldn’t see the bigger picture. I couldn’t even hear the pleas of a woman who needed me. She had needed me, and I fucking failed.

I tried to make myself see reason, however. I had nothing to offer a woman, let alone one like Anita. I certainly wasn’t capable of surrendering my own heart to her. I couldn’t change who I was. She deserved the type of man who gave her flowers and draped her with jewels. She deserved a man who promised her the world and would swoop in on his white horse and make all her problems disappear. And if that man couldn’t make them disappear, then he would buy them away. Yes, she deserved that man.

I was not that man.

I was as far from that man as you could get.

Sin, indulgence, and a harsh level of cold cruelty had been the lane I’d chosen. I liked dark undertones in a good fuck. I preferred it. I knew this, embraced this—it was who I was. But with Anita… with Anita… could I change? She deserved the opposite. She deserved the happy ending that each staff member who works for Spiked Roses dreams of. They all dream of the day that their wealthy as fuck prince charming comes charging in and turns them into the princess. Anita Kyle deserved her crown just as much as the other girls, and I knew damn well that if I left her alone and went my own way, she would find it. Hell, the type of woman she was, and the fight that she had in her, she would damn well take or steal the fucking tiara if she had to. She was stronger than any woman I had known, but was she strong enough to endure the next hellish two weeks?

This last thought was like a punch to the gut. I didn’t know what she had been made to endure in my absence, nor did I know the full extent the level of her misery. Sighing as I took a long sip of my whiskey and closed my eyes to block the image of her battered body beneath the cruel hands of Marco, I knew the answer… I knew goddamnit. I knew.

I glanced around the floor of the club and noticed that all the founding members were present. They were all scattered around—smoking, drinking, talking, making money as they did absolutely nothing. Knowing they would hate me for it, since they were here for pleasure and not business, I walked up to each one of them asking for a meeting in the board room. I needed to discuss a decision that could fuck up everything. They had a right to know. They had a right to have a say in this.

As I stood at the head of the African blackwood table, like I had done before in so many of our other meetings, I felt a lump in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to admit to fucking up. I didn’t want the men to know I had failed. But I had.

“What’s this all about?” Alec Sheldon asked in his thick southern accent. “It’s quittin’ time in my neck of the woods.”

I nodded as I acknowledged his comment. “I appreciate you all coming in here tonight. I know we don’t like to conduct business once the night has started here at the club, but this can’t wait. I can’t wait.” When I saw that I had everyone’s attention, I took a deep breath and continued. “As you all know, I found Anita and brought her back to Marco.”

“Yeah, poor girl. I hate to think what that dick is going to do to her,” Prince Roman said. His words were like a stab to my gut.

“Which is why I called you all here,” I said. “I want to get her back here safely. Out of the hands of Marco. She’s only been there for a couple of hours, and that’s far too long as it is.”

“She can cancel the contract anytime if she wants,” Matthew said.

“She’s too fucking stubborn. And for some unknown reason, she needs the money. So bad, in fact, that she is willing to put herself through hell for it.”

“So what do you want us to do about that?” Matthew asked.

“I want to buy out her contract from Marco. I think it’s the only way to go about it and still honor our business relationship with him.” I reached for my glass of whiskey and took a long swallow. “I fucked up, guys. I shouldn’t have brought her back there. She begged me not to. She was scared, but also wouldn’t walk away from her payday. I should have just given her the fucking money myself. I watched her walk right into the hands of the devil, and did nothing at all. I need to make it right.”

Harley snickered. “Ah, I see what’s going on here. You fucked her. And not only did you fuck her, but you developed a thing for her.”

I glanced at him and noticed his amused face, and his arms crossed against his body. Ass. I then looked at the rest of the men who shared in the enjoyment of Harley reading me for a change.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I fucked her. But do any of you blame me? You assholes would have fucked her too.”

“Not judging you, bro,” Harley said. “Just stating the facts.”

“So regardless if I fucked her or not,” I continued, “I want to get her back. Spiked Roses needs to buy out the contract.”

“Oh, nooooo,” Victor chimed in with a chuckle. “You get to engage in that contract. If I remember correctly, you stood in that very spot and told us that if we wanted to fuck her, we had to buy her. New rules, remember?”

The rest of the men started laughing and nodding in agreement.

Matthew added, “Oh, yes, and the rest of us have been good boys. We have kept our dicks contained to the Tasting Room. Not one of us have engaged in the long term contract that is a year’s salary if broken.” He smirked. “I find it funny that Mr. Legal Man was the first to break the rules set forth.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. They had a point. The new rule. I had fucking created the new rule. If you fuck her, you have to buy her.

I closed my eyes and ran my hand through my hair. “You have a fucking point.” I hated to admit it.

“What’s the penalty for Mr. Lawyer?” Alec asked the men around the table. “He fucked her before he bought her. I say we add a penalty.” The belly laugh that followed, by him as well as the others, had me grinding my teeth.

“Laugh all you want, dicks. I fucked up. Okay. I fucked up. But I want to fix it. And, yes, if I have to fucking buy her because I fucked her, then so be it. I don’t care. I just want her out of the hands of Marco Nunez.” I looked at Harley Crow directly. “Harley, can you help me out here? You know Marco the best out of all of us. You know how he operates. Last time I saw him, he put a damn knife to my neck, so I don’t exactly see him welcoming me with open arms and liking when I say I want to buy Anita from him.”

Harley stood, angrily slamming his fists onto the top of the table. “He fucking did what? He put a knife to your neck?”

I put up my hands, and said calmly, “Don’t get worked up. I took care of it and it’s over. A nonissue. And frankly, I deserved it and worse for being a fool and allowing Anita to go back to him. I don’t want you to do anything about that. I just want Anita safe and for this entire mess to be over.”

Satisfied with my answer, Harley sat back down before saying, “I can get her back. I got shit on Marco, and all I have to do is walk in there and take her. Simple. Easy.” He gave me a wink. “But you still have to sign the contract. Only seems fair you have to follow your own rules.”

“Fine,” I said, relieved to hear that Harley could get Anita back and without much of an incident. “I’ll sign the damn contract. Just bring her back safely. Tonight.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Anita

I know I should have been grateful to be entering through the doors of Spiked Roses a free woman… well, sort of. I no longer belonged to Marco Nunez, and somehow I was able to still keep all the money. But Harley Crow had told me on the drive over here that my new owner was Kenneth Saxon. He had bought out my contract—whatever that meant.

I walked into the main room, taking in the red and black leather furniture, the black bar with red barstools, and the black spiked vases cast all around that held two to three dozen roses in each ostentatious urn. I glanced up to look at the huge crystal chandeliers that appeared as if they were dripping diamonds onto the clients below. The large overhead fixtures reflected the gas lanterns that dotted the damasked wallpapered walls, giving off a warm and seductive vibe. I scrutinized the men who sat around sipping on top-shelf booze and smoking hand-rolled cigars searching for Mr. Kenneth Saxon. He’d saved me, and yet I wanted to fucking kill him too.

He’d left me.

He’d abandoned me.

He’d allowed me to be hurt.

And yet… he had ultimately saved me.

It didn’t take me long to see him sitting in a black leather chair in the far corner of room. It was one of his favorite places. He could lurk in the distance, out of the view of most, and observe. Watch. Just like he had watched me while I worked.

When Harley saw that both Kenneth and I had made eye contact, he patted my back and silently left me to walk the rest of the distance alone to where Kenneth sat.

“Why did you buy the contract?” I asked, deciding to get straight to the point as I approached him.

He stood up and reached for my hand, guiding me to another chair next to his. “Can I get you something to drink? A Jack and Coke?”

I shook my head. “No, I want what you’re having.”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m drinking whiskey that is $300 a glass.”

I nodded. “Yes, I’ll take what you’re drinking.” This was just the beginning of making the bastard pay.

He signaled for the waitress for her to bring us two more drinks, and then took a seat next to me. “I want to start off by saying that I am sorry. I should have never let you go back to Marco. I should have bought out the contract to begin with.”

His immediate apology threw me. I hadn’t expected for it to happen without me pointing out what a dickhead move that had been.

“I also want to say,” he continued on, “that I am sorry for how I treated you after we had sex.” He took a deep breath and finished what was left of the whiskey in his first glass. “The truth is, I was scared. You fucked with my head and it scared me.”

“Scared you?” This conversation wasn’t going at all how I’d expected. I’d thought for sure I would be walking up to an arrogant bastard who now thought he had the right to piss on me if he chose to because he’d bought out my contract. Not that I’d expected Kenneth would actually pee on me, but I’d thought his demeanor would be one of superiority rather than humility.

“Yes. You threw me off my game. From the minute you came into my office looking for a job, you had me changing the rules of a game that I had dominated up until now. I would have never fucked you. In fact, I would have never actually been the one to go get you in the first place. You intrigued me from the beginning and then acted like a damn magnet. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you in the club. I couldn’t get you out of my thoughts. And when you signed that contract with Marco, I fucking wanted to explode.”

The waitress arrived with our drinks, and I did take a moment to appreciate the fact that there was $600 worth of booze sitting on the small table between us.

When the waitress left, he continued. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even want to know what Marco did to you when I left. If you tell me, I might just kill the man. So don’t.” He paused and looked into my eyes with so much sadness. “But I wish to God I could somehow take it all away. I wish that I could wipe the memory of that monster from your nightmares and you’d never have to remember it again. Is that even something that is possible? How bad did he break you?”

I took a sip of the whiskey and tried not to cough. It burned but I liked it. “He didn’t break me,” I said softly. “I think I was already broken. And the truth is, I did this. You didn’t. You kept telling me to give the money back and I refused. So this is on me.” And as much as I wanted to blame Kenneth because it felt good to have someone else to blame besides myself, I was the one who had put myself in that situation not once but twice.

“If it wasn’t Marco who broke you, who did?” he asked.

“Not a who. A what. Life, I guess. Or the lack of it. I wanted something so bad, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what that was. I suppose I wanted color. Bright, bold, and exciting color. And in search of that, all I got was black. Thick, ugly black.”

“Do you want me to have Marco killed?” he asked with zero emotion.

“Would you? If I said yes?” I was surprised by this. I didn’t take Kenneth as the murdering type. Other members of the club were for sure, but I didn’t think Kenneth was.

He shrugged. “I’ll probably have someone else do it. But if you want him dead, I can make that happen.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “Marco is a sick asshole, but he didn’t do anything I hadn’t agreed to. It was spelled out in the contract. He went into that tasting with his expectations and wants set out on paper. I knew what they were. I’m not saying I like the guy or ever want to see him again, but I did agree to his terms. He was only fulfilling his end of the contract. I’m really the one to blame for all this. I have to come to terms with what I had agreed to do. I’m so fucking ashamed. And I really hit the lowest point of my life tonight with Marco, but then… sometimes you have to stare the devil in the eyes to be able to conquer him. I’ll get past this. I’m going to see it as a nightmare that I have woken from. I’m awake now. It was all a really bad dream.”

“Will you tell me why you wanted the money so badly?”

“For a friend,” I finally confessed. “My friend Virgie is an elderly lady I used to work for in Muckaluk. She became a really good friend, and pretty much the only friend I’ve ever had. The State placed her in a nursing home unless she got 24hr care from a registered nurse. Her insurance wouldn’t pay for it. So, with Marco’s money, I thought I could help her. It’s why I went to the tasting to begin with. That house you kidnapped me from was hers. It’s all she has, and it means the world to her. I feel she has the right to live the rest of her life out in her home and not a facility.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” he asked, the sadness even deeper in his eyes.

“Would it have mattered?”

“Yes! I’m not a fucking monster. I know you think I am, but I’m not. If you had told me why, and if you’d actually made the situation hit me in the fucking face with reality, I would have realized why you did what you did. Hell, I would have given you the goddamn money just so I didn’t have to deal with the mess. I thought you were just being a fucking stubborn ass with a stupid point to prove. I thought it was a battle of wills, and I was determined to win because I’m the idiot who feels he always has to win.”

“Maybe I should have,” I said, taking another sip of the whiskey. Damn, this shit was good. A girl could get used to this… if I ever had $300 to simply drink away… which was never.

“I’m sorry, Anita. I really am. I should have stopped being a bastard for one minute, and stopped feeling like I had to win, and truly read you. Asked you. Talked to you. All I did was fuck you, treat you like shit, and act like an ass. I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t mind the fucking.”

What did I just say?

It must have been the whiskey. Yes, the whiskey was to blame for that last comment. Always blame the booze for revealing your deepest and darkest secret.

He chuckled as he sipped his own drink. “I didn’t mind the fucking either.”

“So what now?” I asked. “I quit Spiked Roses, but Harley said that I am under contract with you.”

He crossed his leg casually as I had seen him do so many times before when conducting business deals in the club as I served cigars. “We have a couple options. But I am going to allow you to decide what you want.”

“What options?”

“Well, we made things more complicated when you and I had sex. There is a rule among the members of Spiked Roses that if you have sex with any of the women—or want to—then both parties have to sign a contract. In that contract it will state the terms, but basically you will be mine.”

“Yours?” I asked, not being able to fight back my fascination with the thought.

He nodded. “We can both break the contract at any time. If you break it, you walk away and nothing happens other than you go about living your life. If I break it, I have to pay you a year’s salary of what you would have made at Spiked Roses.”

“Why would members sign a contract like this?”

“It protects the club and members from future litigation if the relationship goes sour.”

“And what is this contract going to say?”

“Well, I’m not going to pee on you, if that’s your concern,” he said with a boyish smile. “But it will be a contract saying that we are going to be in a sexual relationship. We can negotiate it however we feel fit. Set our own terms.”

“And what about the 100k I got from Marco? Do I get to keep that?”

He nodded as he sipped from his whiskey. “It’s yours. I paid that plus ten percent to Marco in exchange for you being handed over to me tonight.”

“You paid that?” I was shocked. I knew Kenneth was rich, but I didn’t take him for a man who simply threw his money around without serious consideration. “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

“Call it penance if you want. I should have stood up for you and protected you. I should have been the man you needed and deserved. I know I’m an asshole, but I really didn’t think I was a monster until today.” He sighed. “So the money is yours to help your friend. And if it’s not enough to help her, or you need some assistance with the State, I will help. If it means making this fucked up situation even a little right, I will do it.”

“I appreciate that. For Virgie’s sake. Thank you. I’ve never dealt with the State before, and all that paperwork stuff does intimidate me. I’m sure Virgie will appreciate your help as well. She truly is the kindest woman I have ever met.”

“Then consider it done. I’ll handle all of that and act as your and Virgie’s legal council. This is one area I can fix with my eyes closed. We’ll get her out of that facility and into her home immediately.” The sadness in Kenneth’s eyes seemed to lessen a bit with seeing a way he could now help me.

Feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders, I asked, “So about this contract?” I took a sip of my whiskey. “What terms do you want?”

“Well, it will start off as the standard contract I wrote for our members. It will state that we are both freely and consensually agreeing to engage in sexual relations until either party cancels. Like a marriage of sorts. I, as the member, will take care of your financial needs and you will—”

“Take care of your sexual needs,” I interrupted.

“Only if you want to sign the contract. I won’t force you. My offer to help you and Virgie has nothing to do with this contract.”

“Go on,” I said with a smile. “What other terms are in this contract?”

God help me, but I liked what I was hearing. I didn’t want to run for the doors, if anything I wanted to run right into Kenneth’s arms. The way he looked at me. The way he made me feel safe and protected by offering to make everything with Virgie right. The way that Kenneth simply sat there and looked at me, had me hooked.

“I’d want you to move in with me. You would be mine, and I would want to keep you close.”

“Would I be able to get my job back at Spiked Roses?”

He shook his head. “No. Not while under the contract.”

“So I’d be a kept woman. Is that what you are saying?” I giggled at the thought.

“Yes.” Apparently, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary for Kenneth.

“And the sex? What sexual acts will be in the contract? What will you spell out?”

“I won’t spell out a thing. There will be one sentence only.”

I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head, taking another sip of my drink. “And that sentence would be what?”

“Whatever the fuck I want.”

“Whatever the fuck I want? No details?” For some reason, my stomach flipped at the thought of everything Kenneth would want, and my body instantly craved exactly that.

“No details. You will have to just trust that whatever the fuck I want will be exactly what you need and could ever desire.”

Damn I wanted to fuck him. How could it be that easy? All he had to do was show even an ounce of that whiskey drinking bastard and I wanted to fuck him. I wanted him to fuck me.

“Do you want this contract, Kenneth? Is it because you feel guilty?”

“I want the contract. Not out of guilt, but because I want you.”

His words were so powerful.

So direct.

Firm.

He just said he wanted me.

Me.

“What terms do you want?” he asked. “We can add whatever the fuck you want as well in the document.” He smiled and I all but melted. He was so handsome I could just die. The power this man had over me.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “Can I think about it?” My head was swimming in a sea of confusion and lust. I was exhausted, and I was horny. I couldn’t make a life altering decision right now, especially not with how Kenneth was making me feel. I needed some time to gather my senses.

He nodded and stood. “Yes, of course. I’ll have my driver take you home so you can get some sleep. You’ve been through a lot. Come by here tomorrow, and we’ll start work on getting Virgie home and also finalize the contract negotiations.” He reached for my hand and assisted me out of my chair.

I looked up into his eyes, then his lips that I desperately wanted to nibble, then back at his eyes. “Thank you, Kenneth. Thank you for everything.”

“I don’t deserve your thanks. Not yet. But I promise you that if you do sign the contract, and you do become mine, I will work damn hard to earn your thanks.” He leaned down and softly kissed me on the lips. When he pulled away, he added. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and the first day for us.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Anita

Dear Virgie,

Well, I did it. I’m about to bust you free from your cell. No more nursing home for you, missy. Maybe someday I will sit down and tell you the long story of how I got the money and assistance to make that happen, but for now, the important thing is you will be free to return home soon. In fact, I am overnighting this letter to you, because it is the LAST letter you will get from me in that damn facility.

And before you try to refuse my money and help, I want you to know that I had to do this. I had to save you… or at least that is what I thought I was doing going into this. The truth of the matter is I needed to save myself. I needed to break free from the gray haze that I lived in, and believe me when I tell you that I did. I really, really did.

I found the color I was in need of. I found the bite from the elusive rattlesnake that I had craved my entire life. I finally found what I needed.

A lot is about to change for me in the next few months. I have no idea what is in store, but I’m excited to see. I told Marie St. Claire that I will be moving out, and said goodbye to Marlowe, Ivy and the other girls I became friends with since being in New Orleans. I still plan on staying in touch, but a new chapter is about to start for me. I will no longer be working at Spiked Roses, and am moving into a new place that I have yet to see. I’ve decided that I want to go down the path which has Kenneth Saxon standing at the end. I have no idea how bumpy or smooth this path will be, but I want to go down it regardless.

I want you to meet this man, Virgie. I’m not sure you will like him. Hell, you may even hate him. He can be a real bastard sometimes. A bastard who likes his whiskey. But I think you will also grow to see what I have. There is something so much more beneath his surface. I just need to keep kicking at the sagebrush until I see for myself what that is.

Until I see you soon…

Love,

~Anita

P.S. I’ve decided you can have all the popcorn and Coke you want.

* * *

Kenneth

“So you read over the contract, and you agree with everything?” I asked her.

I wanted to make damn sure she knew what she was getting herself into. I wasn’t taking this contract lightly. When I signed on the dotted line, I expected it followed through to the tiniest detail.

Anita nodded. “Yes, I read it.” She looked at me with squinted eyes. “But did you read the contract and agree with everything?”

I nodded. “Yes. I typed it up myself this morning.”

“Even the part that states both parties will honor each other, respect each other, forsake all others, and love each other?”

“Yes,” I stated firmly. “Do you have a problem with that line item?” I enjoyed speaking in my lawyer voice. I could see it was throwing her off a bit. And even though I had decided this morning that I wanted Anita Kyle in more ways than just a contracted deal for a short time, I still enjoyed the cat and mouse game. It was in my nature. I couldn’t help but toy with her a bit before I took my prey.

“Um, no problem.” She swallowed hard. “It just sounds like a marriage agreement more than a sex contract is all.”

“Is that going to be a problem? Is there something you would like to negotiate?”

“No, I just… well, I do have a question.” She looked down at the contract and read, “A nonprofit will be set up and funded by Mr. Saxon for Ms. Kyle to oversee. The purpose of the nonprofit will be to assist the elderly who are in need of housing, medical or other necessary needs.” Anita looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “Are you serious?”

I nodded and walked around my desk to take Anita into my arms. I kissed her gently on the forehead, and said, “I like my kept women to have something to keep themselves busy. And since you won’t be working at Spiked Roses, I thought this would be something you’d like to do. To add color to your life as you said you wanted.”

She buried her face into my shoulder without warning, which was an act I had never allowed a woman to do before. I didn’t nurture women… but right now, as I rubbed Anita’s back and held her in my arms, I realized my old rules were struck from the record. I was rewriting my own contract.

“I don’t know what to say,” Anita mumbled against me. “I’ve never had someone do something so kind and so generous.”

“So are you prepared to sign the contract?”

Anita didn’t answer me.

I needed an answer.

I wanted her to say yes more than anything I have ever wanted before.

I would not fail at my mission. Not today.

Failure was not an option.

Pulling away, leaning my head down, my lips lightly touched hers. Breaking our embrace, my face mere inches from hers, our foreheads rested against each other, my stare joined with hers. I watched as the tears continued to fall down her cheeks, and my heart, once made of hard steel, crumbled.

Tenderly, I licked the salty tears away from her cheek, enjoying the taste of her skin beneath.

“I want you to sign the contract,” I all but growled. “I want to make you mine. I want to live the rest of my life giving you pleasure, protecting you, and loving you.”

Anita bit her lip. “Kenneth…” she struggled through her tears.

“Tell me you feel the same. Say the words.”

“You are asking for a lot here.”

“I’m asking for you.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure we can do what this contract calls for. It’s calling for commitment. Dedication. Love. You aren’t asking for sex in this contract like I expected. You are asking for everything else.”

I kissed her lightly again, my lips savoring the taste of hers. “Tell me, we can keep love in the contract,” I nearly begged her. “Tell me you could see that happening. Tell me.” Vulnerability didn’t come lightly, but I wasn’t going to contain it any longer. Not if I had a chance of getting what I needed. Getting her.

“I could love you.” The words were barely more than a whisper, but she still surrendered to my request.

Holding her stare, I studied Anita, searching for any sign of a lie. “Tell me again. Say it again.”

Anita shook her head. “Don’t do this, Kenneth. Please. Those aren’t easy words to say or words I take lightly.”

I kissed her again, demanding her submission. Demanding she open her heart to me. I was all in, and I needed to know she was as well.

Anita tried to withstand my affections, her hands on my shoulders trying to push me away from her. I didn’t weaken, and soon Anita was returning my kiss with an unleashed passion. A passion that I recognized, that I had longed for, and that I never wanted to lose again.

“But I hate you, remember?” she said with a soft smile. I was breaking through her wall. “How can I love someone I hate?” Her smile grew. “I hate you.”

“I know you do. But I love the hate.” I pulled away to look her squarely in the eyes. “And I fucking love you.”

Leaning into her, my lips lightly caressing her own, I tasted her sweetness. Pulling away briefly, I studied her, marveling at her beauty… that was until she slapped me clean across the face—playfully this time—and went to wiggle from my arms with a giggle.

I reached out to her, my hand holding hers, stopping her retreat. Pulling her back to me, I embraced her passionately, my lips consuming hers, begging for more than just a simple taste of her on my lips.

“Naughty little girl,” I chastised as I swatted her bottom hard.

Not waiting, not asking, not taking another second, I stripped her bare. She didn’t resist in any way, but instead followed suit until we were both completely naked in my office, desperate for more.

My unquenchable desire for her as willing opponent rather than my captive, had me lowering us down to the lush carpet of my office and kneeling into her, my lips lightly kissing her stomach, my tongue tasting her creamy skin just above the patch of soft dark curls at the apex of her thighs. I was hypnotized by the mere presence of this woman. Her flesh against mine, burning for whatever pleasure I wanted to give her again.

My caressing lips lowering, my hands shifted to cup Anita’s curvaceous bottom, lifting her upwards to me. I wanted to taste this woman again, had wanted to taste her over and over from the moment I had first indulged in her sweet taste, and I knew nothing would stop me now from what I desired most.

Lowering my mouth to meet her raised hips, I carefully ran my tongue through her soft curls, wet from her arousal. The taste of her delicious pussy igniting my raging desires to a new level. I wanted to take her hungrily again as my balls filled up with deep seated need again.

Hearing her impassioned gasp as I lapped at her, I feared I wouldn’t be able to hold onto my control long enough to give Anita all that I wanted to deliver. The mere thought of her experiencing pleasure and allowing me to drink from her filled me with rapture and desires that were already bordering on the loss of sanity.

Tasting her sweet pussy, erotically coating my tongue, I knew I wanted more than just this. I wanted to taste all of her. My tongue still caressing her swollen clit, I carefully slid a single finger into her tight bottom hole. Instantly, I felt a shudder go through her, and she tried to pull away, but my hand still cupping her rear wouldn’t let her.

“Don’t move,” I demanded. “I want you to… I want to taste this tiny little hole.”

As if triggered by my command, Anita’s hands went to my head, her fingers gripping at my hair firmly as another gasp of passion escaped her. Her hips began jutting slightly against my mouth as if searching for something more than I was giving her. I pushed my single digit inside her anus further, filling her as deep as I could, my tongue still busily sucking and licking her clit, wanting to milk her passion from her, to give her a pleasure I was certain no other man had.

When I moved my tongue to her puckered entrance and circled the taut flesh after sliding my finger free, Anita jutted her hips against my tongue, silently begging for more. Her motions got more erratic as her legs quivered, and when I pushed my tongue into the dark passage where my finger had just been, her gasps turned to moans of pleasure. My heart lifted—another barrier breached. Bringing my hand into play, I stroked her clit until she orgasmed, bucking against my hand, her muscles clamping down on my buried tongue.

Her hips relaxed back down against the carpet, her legs spread wide, I gently removed my tongue from her anus, moving to lap at her sweet juices. Reluctantly leaving her throbbing slit, I slid my body against hers and hungrily kissed her, letting her taste herself on my still wet lips.

I looked up at her satiated face. I could smell her desire and could almost feel it pulsing through her. Her pert little breasts, heaving up and down as Anita tried to regain her breathing after her release, just begged to be touched. My fingers pinched and pulled on her nipples, as my tongue softly touched her folds.

I couldn’t get enough of this woman. The taste of her sexual desire was like a goddamn drug, and I was a junkie shaking in need for the fix. Her legs spread eagerly, and I smiled. Shifting my position, I spread her legs even wider, both knees pushed back against her breasts. She started to complain but my fingers dipped down into her folds, thrusting and twisting inside her.

With a cry, she gave herself over to the passion building between us. Grabbing our bunched up clothing, I pressed the bundle beneath her bottom, lifting her higher into my sight. My hands held her legs back, spread apart, her slit wide open and vulnerable.

I brought my face close to her needy pussy again, inhaling her—savoring what was mine. I settled more onto my chest as I prepared to feast upon her some more. A soft growl bubbled to my lips as my tongue dipped deep inside her, twirled around and came out. I sucked her essence then dipped in for more. This time when I pulled out, I ran my tongue across her nub, lying hidden in her folds. I then slipped my tongue back inside her again, pulled out, and drifted lazily down to the tiny opening to her bottom.

I felt her breath stop as my tongue wet the tiny opening, rimming it gently. Then I slid back up to dip in her again for another taste. I pulled out and flicked her clit, before sliding back to tap playfully at her bottom. Again and again, I seemed to take a tour of her privates—always coming back to nudge and toy and kiss and lick the tiny puckered hole. Gradually, all the ministrations merged into one long loving wet lick after another. Plunging my tongue into her pussy, drinking her arousal, I moaned deeply. Sliding across her taint back to her bottom, my tongue stiffened and penetrated her there.

Her body jerked for an instant as she hummed with pleasure. Pulling out, my tongue made another excursion up and down her slit, dipping into her pussy then sliding back to dip into her bottom again.

At last, as my tongue made another turn to penetrate her bottom. I felt her hips lift to meet me. She had accepted it. She wanted more. I pressed my finger past her wet folds, moved back, and drilled deep into her pussy as I licked her clit while lifting my head so I could see her. I looked at her—head thrown back, mouth open, panting beneath me. When her eyes opened, she reached out to me with both hands and caught my face in her warm palms, caressing me, moving her hands to the thick of my hair. Fingers tightening on my scalp, she pulled me forward and I knew what she wanted. Carefully, I slid my tongue into her mouth. Her lips closed on me, and she sucked on my tongue powerfully. My dirty girl wanted to taste her arousal. She wanted to taste what I had become so addicted to. Now she would have a taste of the drug that consumed me. A stab of hunger, raw and primal, pulsed deep within as my cock hardened to a nearly painful level, the cum beginning to churn within me. Because of her, I could fucking come without even being touched. It was the power this woman had over me.

With her eyes watching me, avidly, I transferred the cream of her pussy to the opening of her bottom with my finger. I watched her face as I slowly finger fucked her with the wetness of her completion. Her hands cupped her own breasts, fingers tugging and twisting her nipples as I worked my finger deeper inside her. My tongue tickled her clit then swept down as my finger slid into her bottom again and again.

Her hips lifted to my rhythm. Soft moans escaped from her lips. Moaning, as her hips lifted to meet my touch, a second finger slid into her tight bottom.

Not being able to take it any longer, I slid my cock slowly, deeply, into her hungry pussy. My fingers up her ass never slowed as I moved my penis to a different rhythm.

* * *

Anita

The double penetration sent me crashing into a huge shuddering orgasm. Crying out, my body bucked beneath him. The pleasure wiped out all reason, and I wasn’t even human for an instant in time—pure animalistic need took over. I gave all control of my body to this man. And he didn’t fail me. His mouth found mine just as my orgasm rolled back over itself and intensified.

His cock inside me stretched me in new ways, igniting nerve endings I didn’t even know I had. There had been a tiny sting of pain at first, then Kenneth slid all the way in as though it had always belonged there. Just as the climax began to fade, he moved, thrusting gently, then pulled out all the way and pushed back in with more force.

I shouted in ecstasy as delight electrified my entire body. It couldn’t get any better. It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t feel anymore pleasure than I felt at that moment. Yet, I knew I would. Kenneth… the man had the ability to take me to levels I hadn’t known possible.

He was a kinky bastard, and I loved it. I loved every dirty detail of it.

He shifted his body, sliding his other hand under my bottom, lifting me. I was limp, but watched him as he positioned me. With my last strength, I spread my legs as he lowered me onto the wide flanged head, plunging back into the depths of my ass, followed by his fingers deep within my pussy. Claiming my ass with his cock and my pussy with his hand. Slowly, I felt him fill me, in front and behind. The firm, hot cock pushed inside my tight channel, spreading the walls, stretching me delightfully. In and out, his cock thrust into my ass, full length, stretching my tiny hole sweetly. The combined sensations had me moaning continuously as the bliss enveloped me, the coil of delicious tension building in my body.

I watched as the emotions of complete satisfaction danced across his face. I knew he was close to orgasm, and the tight wet warmth of my pussy clenched around his fingers as I tightened my muscles around his dick. I heard his breathy groans as the orgasm swept over him, his skin flushed from head to toe, his head snapped back as he howled into the sex-infused air of the room. My pussy walls clamped around his steadily thrusting fingers, the rippling action of another orgasm hitting me, causing my inner muscles of my taboo opening to milk the cum out of his balls.

Leaning in, he rubbed his lips against my cheek as I leaned into his touch.

I could never get enough of this man.

Never.

I wanted him. I wanted this life of bastards and whiskey.

“Will you sign the contract?” he asked, breaking me from my sex-induced high.

“Yes.” I pulled his weight against me as I nuzzled into his neck. “But I still hate you,” I whispered between heavy breaths.

“Good. Because I fucking love the way you hate.”

The End

Villains & Vodka

To those who like my fire.

To those who understand that I am the type of flame that burns with thick black smoke swirling around it. The kind that burns your lungs and waters your eyes.

Thank you to all who are willing to dance naked around my type of fire with wild abandon.

Naked and howling at the moon as you do so.

Chapter One

Harley Crow

My life had been one long fevered dream, balancing between being killed or killing.

Though I was not afraid to die.

I was already dead, for you cannot live without a soul.

I was the creature you did not want to see in the shadows of an alley.

I was death.

I was evil.

I was a man who played God, but really was the Devil in disguise.

I was an assassin. A killer.

The villain in this story.

I own it. I chose this life. Hell, I craved it. I hungered for it. The smell of fear made my dick hard and was the very reason the blood ran through my veins. I would not apologize for what I did or who I was. The time of guilt had long passed many deaths ago.

The name Harley Crow was one to be feared, and I took fucking pride in that fact. The more people who feared me, the more money I made. Fear also kept me safe… or safer. Don’t mess with Harley Crow they say, and my reply was always damn straight.

As I stared out a single-pane window, with a gun on my lap ready to kill, I inhaled deeply. I had to absorb the bad. Soak in the fact that I was about to kill a man. It was my job and what I’d been hired to do. One task. Bullet through the head.

I had two guns. One that would shoot far enough to kill, and one to keep near me for protection if someone were to enter the room or try to snag my ass during escape. The guns had names. They all had names with letters and numbers attached, but I didn’t give a fuck what they were called. They were guns. Plain and simple. Metal, black or silver, and could kill. I guess it was safe to say I wasn’t a gun man. Odd for an assassin, and could be downright dangerous not fully knowing the tools of your trade. But all I cared about was how far did it shoot, what kind of bullets did it take, and how much it was to purchase. Black and white. Keep all that AK number bullshit to yourself. I had no time or desire to care.

Not anymore.

I wasn’t always like that. Quite opposite, in fact. I used to make my own bullets, knew every single detail about every gun I owned. I once thrived off being involved in the illegal gun trade so that I could get the best of the best and before anyone else had a chance to. My life revolved around weapons, and the weight and smell of one could get me harder quicker than a naked woman could. I spent my every waking hour at the range honing my skills. I wanted to be unsurpassed by anyone, and I had made that fact a reality. I lived and breathed becoming the most lethal killer I could be. There was an art to it. A pride I fucking loved for the skill it required.

But not now. Yes, I was still lethal. But I no longer cared if I was the best. At this stage in my life, hand me a fucking gun, point at the guy who needed to be dead, and I was done. Mission accomplished. I had been the vicious predator most of my life and made my billion in doing so. But today, now, I just didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t really give a fuck about much.

It was time to retire I guess you could say. I knew this. I even went into business with others in a gentlemen’s club called Spiked Roses. My first legit business venture. But an assassin couldn’t just give his notice and collect his pension. An assassin doesn’t just break away from the darkness—not until you lay him down in the cold ground. My fate had been sealed the day I’d killed my first man for pay. Tired and over it, I still was an assassin. A tattoo forever marked on my soul.

I even used to want to know all about my victim before I pulled the trigger. I wanted to learn what he’d done to deserve a bullet through the back of his skull. I was even the sick fuck who wanted to know what his last meal was before his death. I would stalk my prey for days to try to see a glimpse of evil that gave me cause to end his life. But not anymore. I realized it didn’t matter. A good man would believe no one deserved to be assassinated no matter what.

But like I said, I was not a good man.

The truth was that I believed everyone deserved the bullet. Darkness and evil ran in all of us. There were no innocents in this life other than children, and that would soon change. Age made us bad. Maturity poisoned us.

Just like the man across the way who sat at a cheap particleboard desk in his office. He shredded papers with shaking hands and beads of sweat dripping off his brow. He had a secret. They all had secrets. Secrets that got them killed. He needed to stand so I could get a clean shot, which meant I had to wait. Wait while the sweaty bastard worked to destroy whatever evidence—I didn’t give a shit about—was hidden on those papers. All that concerned me was that the man had a huge bounty on his head, and I would be collecting it by dawn.

Cracking my knuckles, I tried to fight off the anxious tension in my hands. I needed a cigarette, but I had given that habit up recently. Ironic that I was worried about my health when the bounty on my own head was higher than any job I’d ever done in the past or that I was likely to do in the future. I was walking dead, but I still didn’t want to die with a breathing tube jammed in my throat. My voice already sounded like I had swallowed a box of jagged glass, and the last thing I needed was to be lugging around an oxygen tank and have plastic sticking out of my nostrils. No thank you. Hard to give off the bad boy, tattoo-covered killer look while wheezing for air. I wasn’t in my young twenties anymore, but I sure as hell wasn’t an old bastard, yet my lungs felt like it at times.

But I still wanted a cigarette. Fuck.

Judging by the large stack of papers needing to be destroyed beside my soon-to-be victim’s desk, I knew I could be sitting on this metal folding chair for several hours. My only hope was him needing to stand up and take a piss or stretch his legs. Maybe I would be lucky, and he’d walk over to the window to stare out of it and make my job really easy. But I had done enough of these gigs to know that nothing about them was ever easy. They took patience. A shit load of patience.

My need for a cigarette only grew with the ruckus from the room up above. The sounds of shouts, bangs, crying, screaming. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to some dude beat up his old lady in this piece of shit apartment building. It made my skin crawl hearing her plead. And no matter how hard I tried to not pay attention, they grew louder. I had one rule as an assassin. Leave women alone. I’d never killed a single woman, and never would. And I sure as shit wouldn’t beat on one. What the hell was the man doing to her? Motherfucker!

Not being able to take it any longer, I stood up, placed the handgun in the waistband against my spine, and charged out the door. This was stupid of me. I knew I didn’t need to be drawing attention to being in the building at all. I’d already had to bribe the landlord a thousand dollars to open the unoccupied apartment’s door, and had thrown in an extra hundred-dollar bill to reward him when he didn’t ask a single question as I carried nothing but a black duffle bag through the entryway. The man even had provided me with a chair. Although, I didn’t think Mr. Landlord would be too pleased if I beat up one of his tenants for being an abusive asshole. He didn’t want the cops beating on his door, and I didn’t blame him. But enough was enough.

I knocked on the door of apartment 623. I was half tempted to just kick it in, but I would give the dickhead a chance to apologize and back down with his tail between his legs.

The door opened and a greasy-haired white man dressed in a dirty wrinkled dress shirt and baggy black slacks greeted me in a way that only a fool would, had he known who I was.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked. Booze permeated his breath, and his pupils were dilated. Drunk and high meant I had to be careful. These types of fuckers don’t scare easily. A look and a warning would not be enough.

I didn’t answer his question, but pushed my way inside the apartment.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just barge in here!” He reached for my arm, which was a big mistake. I do not like to be touched by dirty hands. By dirty anything. Who knew where those hands had been, and I didn’t want them touching me.

I spun my body enough to avoid his filthy touch and reached behind me for my gun. Pulling it out and pointing it at his head didn’t make him instantly cower. I didn’t expect it to. He was too fucked up to process that he was about to be killed. I would have to make it very clear to his dumb ass. “Touch me and die,” I warned with a calm and steady voice, still pointing the gun at his forehead. A wise man would know that the calmer your opponent was, the more danger you were in. But this idiot was far from wise.

I took the time it required for the white trash piece of shit to process my words and actions to glance around the room. A beaten and shaken older woman cowered against the wallpaper-torn wall a few feet away from me. By her wide-eyed stare and her frozen stance, I wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of the man beating her, or me. I didn’t really give a fuck either way. Blood dripped from a gash near her eye, and her lip was busted so bad that I knew she would need stitches for both wounds. The woman was definitely used and abused. She appeared weathered and worn—but it could very well be years of living a brutal life deceiving me. Cheeks sunken in, lusterless hair, skin full of pockmarks. She was hard on the surface, though her eyes told a story of a frightened and scared woman. The apartment was shitty—not that I expected anything else in a building like this. The couch looked worse than something you would see for free on the curb right before a Monday morning garbage day. The rest of the furniture wasn’t any better, and the room smelled like stale cigarettes and cat piss.

Finally, the fear set in for the man. He raised his hands and took a few steps back. “I don’t want any problems, dude. I have no beef with you.”

“You do that to her?” I asked, nodding toward the bloodied woman.

He swallowed hard and took another half step back. “Listen, man. I don’t know who you are, but I got nothing to offer you. I’m broke. That dirty old whore owes me money for last night’s jobs. Go ahead and get the money from her. It’s yours. Like I said, I want no trouble.”

Of course he would say those words. I was the one with the fucking gun pointed at his head. Damn pimp and whore situation. I hated these more than anything. No woman should ever be owned. Especially by a dirty prick like this man nearly shitting himself before me. Pimps were the sickest of all men. I ran with ruthless fuckers. I knew the bad guys and would rarely judge. Monsters among men. But not dirty street pimps. I fucking hated pimps.

“You owe him money?” I asked the woman.

She shook her head. “I got jumped last night. I didn’t collect. I lost everything.” When she opened her mouth to speak, I could see she was missing most of her teeth, and what remained were stained and crooked.

“Lying cunt,” the man snapped.

Without hesitation, I struck the side of his head with the weight of my gun. He stumbled back until he fell against the wall, lifting his dirt-encrusted hand to the blood dripping from the wound near his temple.

“Don’t ever call a woman that name,” I lectured in the same even toned voice I had been using since entering the apartment. I looked back at the woman. “Are you lying?”

She shook her head as tears cascaded down her bruised face. “No, sir. I swear it.” Her body shook, and when she went to wrap her arms around her skinny frame, I saw the track marks running along her inner arm. Junkie or not, she didn’t deserve a beating.

“Did he do this to you?” I asked, using my free hand to motion up and down her body.

She nodded.

“Does he do this to you often?”

She nodded again, shame adding to the fear on her face.

“What would you like me to do?” I asked. The pimp asshole remained frozen against the wall. I knew he would. I wasn’t concerned he would try anything. A good pistol whipping had a way of making any man compliant.

“Excuse me?” she asked in a frail voice.

“I asked you what you wanted me to do. To him.”

She glanced at her attacker, and then back at me.

“Make him leave me alone.”

“Forever?” I asked to clarify.

She nodded as she looked back at the man I had no doubt caused her great misery. For a few moments I saw courage and dignity wash over her eyes, but it quickly disappeared when the dumb fuck said, “Shut your mouth. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have a roof over your head, bitch.”

I hit him again with the gun—harder this time—causing his head to slam against the wall, knocking off a nearby picture. The sound of breaking glass blended with his own cry. Yeah, that shit hurt. Being hit with a gun was nowhere near like being hit with a fist. I knew this. And now this asshole sure as hell did as well.

“If I left here, would he leave you alone? Tomorrow? The day after that?” I asked, turning my attention back to the woman.

She looked down at the stained carpet and shook her head. “He’ll never leave me alone.” I could barely hear the words coming from her bloody lips.

“But you want him to?” I asked.

She nodded. “So much so. But…”

I took hold of the cheap polyester-covered arm of the pimp jackass and pushed him into the bathroom a few feet away. He stumbled but didn’t resist. I shoved him up against the chipped bathtub with an ugly plastic floral shower curtain behind him. I pointed my gun to his head again.

“Please, man,” he begged. “I’ll leave. I’ll never return. Whatever you want.”

I inhaled deeply. The smell of fear. Fuck yeah.

His eyes narrowed in on the tattoo of the skull that took up the entire front of my throat. Red eyes of death staring back at him. Every man I killed who actually saw me always looked at my tattoo right before I pulled the trigger. It would be the last thing they would see. The skull with the red eyes.

“I’ll leave and never say a word. I’ll never see her again. Never. I swear it,” was his one last plea.

“No, you won’t,” I said as I pulled the trigger and shot the bastard through the eye with the ease of an assassin. No feeling. No care. No remorse.

His body fell backward into the tub, pulling the shower curtain down with him. A little trick I had learned along the way on my career path. Kept shit clean. He was all wrapped up with the blood pouring onto the plastic, and if any escaped, the tub would catch the rest. Easy. Clean. No mess. No blood on my shoes.

I placed the gun back in my waistband against my spine and went to the rusted bathroom sink to wash my hands and to clean the splattered blood off my face. It wasn’t the blood that bothered me as much as the surroundings I wanted to cleanse myself from. I fucking hated dirt and grime. Germ freak? Maybe. But I fucking hated it. After washing my face and hands and using my own pants to dry them because I didn’t trust the shabby mauve towel hanging nearby, I walked out to where the woman stood. She hadn’t moved an inch.

She was terrified. I could see it in how she cowered against the wall and trembled. I could hear it in her rapid breathing. And fuck… I could smell it. My cock twitched, but not enough to want to do anything about it.

“Done. He’ll leave you alone forever.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a money clip. After paying off the landlord, I only had a little over two thousand dollars on me, but I knew it would mean the world to this woman. I handed it to her. “Here. Take this. Wait for eight hours before calling the police. Tell them some man stormed in claiming he wanted his drug money and then shot him.” I had used a silencer, so I doubted anyone really had heard the gunshot, and even if they did, I doubted they gave a fuck. It wasn’t their problem. Those who lived in hellholes like this didn’t make other people’s problems theirs.

Tentatively, she reached out and took the wad of cash. “Okay. Thank you.” Her voice cracked.

Many people would say something to her about not shooting it all into her arm, or to get out of the roach-infested apartment, but I wouldn’t. Why? Who cares? It wasn’t like I would keep track of her. The reality was she would still march down her fucked up and dark path. We all did. Her story was already written, and she already had her ending. I sure as fuck wasn’t the hero in her story. I was the goddamn villain in it.

Chapter Two

Marlowe Masters

When I was a little girl, I wanted to stare the monster in my closet straight in the eye. I was never the child who asked for the light to be left on or the door to be cracked. I wanted it black. As black as it would go in the tiny room I shared with my two younger sisters in hopes he would come. I’d fight to keep my eyes open, staring at the blackness of my open closet… waiting. He never showed himself. Night after night, I waited for a glimpse of his red eyes and pointed teeth I had imagined he’d have. But nothing. I never saw the boogieman no matter how hard I had tried.

So maybe that was why I felt the way I felt now. And why I did what I did.

Why I watched him. Why I lusted for the man. Craved him in a way I had craved no other.

Harley Crow.

I didn’t care if he was a killer like they said. A monster, the bad guy, even the Devil himself. In fact, it made me want him more.

One glance, one tiny look, was all I wanted from the man, but unfortunately never got. Night after night, week after week, I worked my waitress shift at Spiked Roses in the heart of New Orleans and all but stalked his ass. I studied him, memorized his every move. I actually felt as if I could hear his heartbeat from a distance, smell his deadly essence from afar… deadly, for one smell would surely be my undoing.

He drank his vodka chilled. No ice. Nothing mixed with it. Just chilled vodka.

He wore black. Always black and nothing more. His hair was black, facial hair too, and though I could never get close enough to see, I had always assumed his eyes were black as well. Black. All black. He blended in with the shadows of the club.

Unlike the other rich fucks who frequented this members-only gentlemen’s club, Spiked Roses, he never wore a suit or tie. By his appearance alone, you would have no idea he was a wealthy man. The only giveaway was that he was one of the owners of the club. The men’s club full of billionaires and ruthless power players of the world.

He was different than the rest of them. I could see it. I could feel it. And maybe that was why I couldn’t stop my sick infatuation for this man I had never met, no matter how hard I’d tried.

Tattoos. He had tattoos on almost every inch of exposed flesh I could see. His hands were inked, including his knuckles. His neck. His neck was what captivated me the most. A tattoo of a skull with red eyes rested against his Adam’s apple. The red eyes, just like the boogieman I had waited my entire childhood to get a glimpse of.

Harley Crow.

He was the boogieman.

He always sat at the same table in the same chair, staring ahead and watching the room—but never watching me.

Although, I watched him. I couldn’t help it. And when I wasn’t watching him, I’d fantasize about what his body would feel like against mine. How his touch would scorch my flesh, only to have the tip of his tongue soothe the burn.

“Girl, you are about two seconds away from me locking your Latina ass up in the loony bin,” a thick southern accented voice said from behind me.

I didn’t jump, but it did snap me out of my Harley Crow trance enough to turn around to see my manager, Tennessee Charles, with his hands on his hips looking at me with his firm stare.

I glanced back at Harley longingly. “Why does your cracker ass insist on me always wearing the red lace costume? I could rock the black leather, and you know it.”

Tennessee ran a tight ship and was definitely a boss none of the girls would cross, but he did allow sarcastic banter… hell, it was almost a job requirement of his for you to do so. He acted as the house ‘mother’ for all the women who worked the club. And he was the one who decided what the staff wore. There were two choices. Red lace with diamonds, or black leather and a collar with a silver chain. Certain tables of the club were to be served by the red lace girls, and the other tables, ones that had a hook to fasten the chain around the waitress’s neck, were the tables served by the girls in the black leather uniform.

Harley Crow unfortunately always sat at the table the black leather girls would serve.

Tennessee rolled his eyes. “So you can become crazy psycho girl to that poor man? No thank you.” He ran his gaze down my body. “Besides, chica, that Mexican booty of yours fills out that red dress like no other. Hell, you could turn a gay man straight. Not my gay ass, but some other weaker fool.” He chuckled, and it was hard not to smile at his pathetic attempt at speaking any form of Spanish to me. Bless his heart, as his southern self would say. The way he spoke always amused me. He could be a real pain in my ass, but he was, by far, the best supervisor I had ever had.

“One night is all I ask. Then you can commit me to the loony bin. It’d be worth it,” I said, looking back at where Harley sat and sipped out of his crystal tumbler. He seemed broodier than normal tonight, though every time I saw him, he possessed some level of melancholy. “I just want him to notice me. I’ve worked here for almost a year, and I don’t think he even knows I exist.”

“And why in the world would I want to give you even one night to make a fool of yourself? Girl, you practically have drool dripping off your chin. You should thank me. I’m saving you from yourself. And you’re just asking for trouble. That man kills people. For money. Can you imagine taking that fella home to dinner to meet your mama? Oh lordy, no. Lordy, lordy, lordy, no.” He flew his hands in the air above him dramatically, looking up at the ceiling in the most theatrical way, which reminded me of an old black woman in a southern Baptist church who had just found Jesus.

“Tennessee… come on.”

“Call me a twat or a cock block all you want. But hell to the no. And besides, that long black hair of yours combined with the leather leotard would make you look like a damn vampire. We ain’t no gothic bodice ripper novel here. No, ma’am. You will just have to do your job, serve those damn drinks waiting for you at the bar to the other rich fucks in here, and keep your mind off that bad boy.” He glanced at Harley and then back at me. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you to stay away from the bad boys?”

I shook my head. “My father was the leader of a Mexican motorcycle gang, so I think it’s fair to say she liked her men bad.”

And she did. I was definitely my mother’s daughter.

“You are such a liar,” Tennessee said with a half laugh. “Mexican motorcycle gang—ha! You don’t have that interesting of a past. You’re boring like everyone else who moved to New Orleans in the hopes of some excitement. You probably grew up in the suburbs of Ohio watching reruns of Gilligan’s Island like the rest of us.”

I smirked. If he only knew. And knew why I’d really moved to New Orleans. But I had no real desire to convince him otherwise or even go down the path of past memories and family drama. Who wanted that shit?

I had always liked the rugged, the tattooed, and frankly, in all my history with men… the assholes. I didn’t like the new and shiny cars, but rather the truck with rusted parts. Which made it ironic that I worked in a place that literally reeked of money. The odor of decadence oozed from every single nook and cranny of this joint. Men drank booze out of fancy glasses that cost more than I made in an entire month… unless I did a Tasting.

The Tasting Room in Spiked Roses and the Tastings that occurred in that room were a different story. I could make a shitload of money at one of those, and I had. Each Tasting in the room would have a different theme for the night revolving around sexual kinks, fantasies or fetishes. Women who worked the Tastings and engaged in the acts made more money than one could imagine. It was all about the contract. Everything that was expected to take place would be contracted out and followed to a tee. Spiked Roses had a managing member by the name of Kenneth Saxon, a ball buster attorney, who made damn sure of it. He made sure all the details were laid out in black and white. No questions asked. I liked that.

The rules were simple. Essentially, one of the men would own the girl for a night, a weekend, a week, or whatever was negotiated out in the contract and for a hefty price. Completely consensual to both signing parties. Was it prostitution? It could be considered that, I suppose. Though I never allowed sex to be in my contracts. I would do everything else. But no rich dick was entering my pussy. It meant I didn’t make as much money, and often the men would pass on me and choose another woman at the Tasting instead, but I was fine with it. I would suck, just not fuck. It wasn’t like I had some moral standing that prevented me from having sex, but none of the men who attended these Tastings did it for me. They all lacked the asshole bad boy quality I guess I was foolishly attracted to. I actually liked sex, and I wanted to keep it that way. Having sex with some silver spoon-fed mama’s boy would be the quickest way to kill whatever sexual drive I had. But I was usually willing to play whatever kinky game they wanted for a price. Just leave their cock out of my pussy.

Would my parents be proud of me? No. But I had given up on trying to gain their approval a long time ago, and they had no room to talk. My savings account was larger than my mama or father had accumulated in a lifetime. But I refused to touch it. It was my safety net. My escape card if I were to ever need it. I knew my youth and looks wouldn’t last forever, and I had no real skills other than playing the classic Spanish guitar. A skill that hadn’t served me one ounce of good up to this point of my life. I had learned a long time ago that strumming the strings and barely paying the bills was not a life I wanted to live.

I glanced back at Harley who sat with a sexy slouch in the leather chair just begging for me to straddle him and ride his cock like no woman had ever done before. I would too. I wouldn’t hold back with that man. I just needed him to notice me. He clearly didn’t like señoritas in red lace, and it was driving me crazy.

Tennessee noticed where I stared, and said, “Oh you poor thing. You are just doomed for never settling down and finding a good man. Take my advice. You need to go flirt with one of those CEOs mingling around here. Or find yourself a nice banker with a stick up his ass. They’ll set you up nice and good, and you can go shop at Pottery Barn and get your nails done all purty and shit. Messing around with the bad boys will only get you fucked. Fucked with no lube, and ain’t no one wants any part of that.”

“I carry my own lube, thank you very much. So, I’m safe there,” I said with a wink.

Tennessee laughed, which was rich and full and could dominate an entire room with its volume. “Lordy, you are about to stroke my ass out. This conversation is over. Unless you want your ass fired, get to work. Stop getting your panties all wet over that man, and get it together. Stalker is not a good look on you.”

“Fine,” I said with a pout. “You really are a cock block.”

“And a twat,” he added with a devilish grin.

Tennessee seemed pleased when I picked up my serving tray and started walking toward the bar. But then as if a thought had just popped into his head, he added, “Are you doing the Tasting tomorrow night? I don’t have you down on my list of sign ups.”

I shrugged with a slight grimace. “I’m kind of over those for a bit. The last barn theme Tasting weirded me out. I can’t look at a cow the same way now.” I stopped walking and looked over my shoulder at him with a smile. “I have a feeling that theme was your idea.”

He laughed. “Moo, motherfucker. Moo.” He laughed louder, but then he regained his composure as he straightened his silk cravat. “I’m serious though. This Tasting isn’t like that one.”

“What’s the theme?”

I had done too many as it were. Though my bank account was happy, each time I engaged in sexual play with a stranger, I chipped away at my soul. And I worried I didn’t have much more of my soul left to chip at.

“Who’s Afraid of the Dark?” He smiled with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “I might let you wear a black dress so you can be that vampire gothic chick you are begging to be.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I said playfully. Taking a second to think about it, I finally flicked the good angel who sat on my shoulder off and allowed the Devil to take its place. “Yeah, I’ll do it. Not like I have anything better to do. Who knows, maybe Harley Crow will be at this Tasting.”

I knew that wouldn’t be the case. Harley didn’t go to any Tastings. Since working at Spiked Roses, I had gone to every single one I thought he would attend, and was always disappointed that he never walked into the room. He didn’t seem to have an interest in any of the women who worked at Spiked Roses. And I was pretty sure he wasn’t in a relationship because he spent almost every evening at the club alone. It was always just him and his vodka unless he sat and chatted with the other owners of the place.

“Actually,” Tennessee said, “he may. I heard from Kenneth that this is going to be one of their larger parties. It’s a Spiked Roses recruitment event for new potential members to test the waters, so to speak. Last I heard, all managing members will be present. Now, whether they all participate or not, is a different story.”

My heart skipped, and I nearly dropped the tray I was holding. “He’s going?”

“Girl, don’t make me ban you from the Tasting,” Tennessee warned. “If you embarrass yourself by acting like a pimple popping screaming fan at a boy band concert—”

“I’ll behave,” I said a little too quickly, trying hard to not act like a giddy schoolgirl. I knew Tennessee really would prevent me from going if he felt I wouldn’t follow Tasting protocol.

His eyes narrowed, but then he gave a nod. “Okay, I’ll add you to the list. But if you act like a bubblegum pop groupie and fan girl all over his Diablo ass, I’ll pull you from the event. And then I’ll give you a switching like my mama did to me when I acted the fool. Ya hear?”

It was hard to take Tennessee seriously when his southern twang grew to epic levels, but I kept myself under control. “Understood,” I said with a serious face, knowing that there was a time to show him some respect, and this was it. Anything to not fuck up a chance of maybe being noticed by the man I literally hungered for.

Tennessee shook his head as he turned to walk away from me. “Miss Marlowe Masters, I do not know what I am going to do with your crazy Mexican ass.”

Tennessee Charles was one to talk. Watching him walk to the iron railing staircase to go to the second level, I took in his choice of attire for the evening. It was always a smoking jacket made of the boldest yet classiest material. Tonight was burgundy velvet accentuated with his classic trademark cravat that you would never find him without. He was… dapper. Dapper seemed to be the word that fit his style the best. But that man had no room to talk when it came to over the top actions. He lived and breathed the brink of crazy. He was right there with me on the nut case train.

Walking back to the bar in red pumps that I wished were black, I resisted the urge to look at Harley again. I needed to focus. Get it together. Tomorrow night in The Tasting Room could be my chance. Maybe. I thought about the theme and what it would mean.

Who’s Afraid of the Dark? Clever. Dark and twisted sex acts, no doubt. And I was completely fine with those. I preferred the darker Tastings over most. The kinks always seemed to dip deeper into fantasy rather than reality. I liked to escape under the cloak of darkness. Hiding there kept me safe.

What that said about me, I wasn’t sure. But I had given up trying to analyze the way I was wired.

You had to like my fire. I was the type of flame that burned with thick black smoke swirling around it. The kind that burned your lungs and watered your eyes. I was the flame that most wanted to extinguish rather than stoke.

But Harley Crow…

I felt he would dance naked around my fire with wild abandon. Naked and howling at the moon as he did so.

I just needed a chance to show him where I burned.

Chapter Three

Harley

“We need everyone sitting in this room to be in The Tasting Room tonight,” Kenneth Saxon said as he started the meeting with the six other managing members lounging around the large conference table. “It’s not your normal Tasting.”

The man could be a real pain in my ass at times since I wasn’t one who liked being told what to do, but he was good for the club. His type-A, strict personality helped keep the doors open, and I had to appreciate that fact. Each man brought something of value to the club, but my only contribution was that I brought fear. Enough people feared me, so, therefore, feared messing with Spiked Roses. A win in my book. I would use my fucked up notoriety if I needed to. At least my past was good for something.

“What’s the theme for tonight?” Victor Drayton asked.

Victor enjoyed a good Tasting, so I was pretty sure he didn’t need Kenneth to coax him into attending. He always found new participants for his Dollhouse in The Tasting Room. That fucker had some shadowed kinks I didn’t even want to try to comprehend, and I was a dark motherfucker myself. But even I was no match for what I had heard about Victor and his dolls. His world-renowned art galleries were secret little fuck fests from the tales that were told about them.

“Who’s Afraid of the Dark,” Kenneth answered. “All about the fear, gentlemen. I’m sure this fits with many of your tastes. You don’t have to engage or contract with any of the ladies if you don’t want to. However, since we have invited several new potential members, Matthew believed it would look good to have all the managing members present. I agree. Part of what we sell at this club is the idea of brotherhood. So we want all of us in the same room to show it is present here at Spiked Roses and they, too, want to become part of it.”

Matthew Price nodded. Besides Kenneth, Matthew also was crucial to the running of the club. His ruthless CEO experience caused him to run a tight ship. That rich fuck made more money in the first five minutes he was awake than most made in a lifetime. When it came to business advice, we all knew to follow and do exactly as Matthew directed. I sure as hell knew nothing about running a business. I was along for the ride and would follow the marching orders from the experts.

“What are the basic terms of the contract?” Alec Sheldon asked in his twangy Georgian accent. “I’m not sure my dirty old ass rolls that way. You gentlemen may have to do this Tasting without me.”

I wasn’t alone in rolling my eyes because we all knew Alec was just as sexually depraved as the rest of us. Having heard him talk in the past over a few drinks of rye—his cocktail of choice—that southern man, rooted in deep country traditions, made him a master not to be messed with.

“The weekend or a long weekend tops. Not long term. Knife play, breath play, ropes, cages, chains, etc. This theme is a boundary pusher for sure.” Kenneth looked directly at Alec. “Like I said, you don’t have to contract out, but come and have an aged whiskey, network, and lay on that southern charm of yours. There is a Saudi Arabian oil tycoon attending tonight, and I’m sure he would love to talk business with you. You oil men can talk about money and mud all night for all I care, but show the fuck up.”

“All right. Fair enough. I’ll be there,” Alec agreed while everyone else seemed to be on board with attending as well.

It would be my first Tasting. Not that the idea didn’t fascinate me, and even tempt me at times, but I wasn’t about connecting with a woman to that intense of a level. Engaging in a contract for days, putting rules in place, and interacting more than just a fuck and leave was way more than I was interested in. It was far more intimate than I was comfortable with. I also didn’t believe in shitting where I worked. These women in The Tasting Room were technically my staff. It just felt wrong to even consider one of them for a plaything.

But I would follow the marching orders and attend as I had promised Kenneth a couple of nights ago. And the theme of the night did intrigue me. It was exactly the flavor I would want to taste if I were to actually engage in one of the events. So, I had promised Kenneth earlier when he spoke to me before the meeting to keep my mind open, not scare off the members with my moody self, and even consider contracting out with a woman. He believed that maybe I would find a girl who interested me. I doubted it since it really did seem too close to home and far too suffocating for my tastes. I didn’t wake up in the morning with the women I fucked. Cuddles and kisses were definitely not the beats of the drum I marched to.

We continued the meeting discussing the finances, general staffing issues, orders, late shipments, and all the other normal topics a business meeting would cover. I loved it. There was no talk about death, killing, revenge, bounties and all the subjects of my past life. Spiked Roses was my normal… or as close to normal as I was going to get. I felt as if I could loosen up and even joke around from time to time. It was a breath of fresh air in the polluted world I lived in.

“Also,” Kenneth said, “I will be leaving next week for the long overdo vacation I’ve been promising Anita I would take her on. We’ll be in Venice first and then take in the rest of Europe from there. She’s never been, and I haven’t been in ages since all I do is fucking work all the time.” He nodded at Matthew. “I have gotten Matthew up to speed on my duties around here, but he isn’t a fucking lawyer. So can you assholes please stay out of legal trouble while I’m gone?” He smiled, though I knew there was some truth in his statement. Spiked Roses had managed to not get sued for a while, but we were bound for something to pop up any minute knowing the crew who sat around this table as well as the other members of the club.

“You knock that filly up yet?” Alec asked.

“Hell, Kenneth hasn’t even popped the question,” Lennon Wolf said. “We all know I have a reputation for stealing things.” He gave Kenneth a wink. “He better act fast, or I may steal her and take her for my own.”

I’d known Lennon Wolf long before owning Spiked Roses. That lying, thieving fuck came damn close to swallowing the barrel of a gun many times, but somehow always mastered his way out of hot water. I hadn’t liked him at first, but the man had grown on me. I realized that he truly was the smartest fuck who sat at this table of formidable men. There was so much beneath the surface, and that was what made me extra cautious when it came to him. Plus, I wouldn’t put it past the shithead to steal my wallet.

“Are you all done discussing my personal life that is none of your damn business?” Kenneth asked, trying to hide the smile that lurked in the corners of his mouth. “What goes on between Anita and me is none of any of your damn business. She doesn’t work here anymore.”

That fucker was one happy man, though he tried to play it off as if he wasn’t always walking on cloud nine. His new love life with the lovely Anita Kyle had changed him. He was still the uptight prick we all loved running our joint, but we could now see that he was one happy uptight prick. I think each one of us who sat around the table envied the man in a way. We wouldn’t admit it, of course. But I do think we envied him.

“Last I checked,” Kenneth continued on, “we have a business to run. I just want to make sure that you all don’t get our asses sued while I’m gone.”

“Ah man, where’s the fun in that?” Prince Roman said with a chuckle. He leaned back in his chair. “It’s been boring around here lately. I think it’s time we mix things up. And what a better time to do so then when the cat’s away.”

I liked Prince Roman Cassian and that was saying a lot. I usually hated royalty, and I had met quite a few. Their world revolved around dark and twisted secrets with candy-coated exteriors. And though Roman had his dark secrets and got whatever he wanted in life, he was, by far, the most stand up man I knew. I would choose him for my side any day.

Kenneth glared his way but didn’t respond. He continued the meeting with, “We have some power players coming tonight. Quite a few.” He looked at me and added, “Harley looked into all their backgrounds when the invites were sent, and though some are a bit shady, they aren’t any shadier than the rest of us. Harley cleared them all in regards to what we will and won’t accept. We did up security, however, just in case. I don’t see there being any issues, but we don’t know these assholes yet.” Kenneth paused, took a sip of his whiskey, and then continued on. “We didn’t have enough staff of our own interested in participating in this Tasting. Not for the number of men coming. So, Victor has been gracious enough to lend us some of his dolls to help. I think we should be staffed enough for all to contract out if they desire. Though my guess is that not all will. I think this night will be more about them seeing what we have to offer and what we are all about rather than bringing someone home to get kinky with.”

“Also, next meeting,” Matthew said, “we need to discuss the upcoming jazz festival coming into town. We normally don’t allow drop-ins, but maybe we want to open up one night for it. Just a thought for you all to think about. The mayor is breathing down my neck on this one. He thinks we need to be a little less mysterious and exclusive and extend our civic duty more. I’m not sure about his angle on this fully, but I did tell him I would bring the topic to the table.”

“I know there are some musicians performing whom I plan to bring as my guests,” Lennon said. “But that could be a good idea. That festival blows up New Orleans. Might as well profit off it.” He shrugged. “And keep the mayor happy if that’s what he wants.”

“Okay, well if there isn’t anything else,” Kenneth said, pausing as he waited for someone to speak up, “then I’ll adjourn this meeting.”

“Actually, yes, one more thing,” Matthew cut in. “Tennessee has had a suspicion for a few weeks that Ivy Adams may be using. Since we enacted the no drug policy, I ordered mandatory drug tests for all the ladies. I didn’t want to single her out in case Tennessee was wrong.” Matthew took a long swig of his drink. “He wasn’t wrong. She tested positive for several substances.”

“Then she’s terminated. Simple,” Kenneth announced.

“Ah come on, man,” Roman chimed in. “Maybe she just had a good time at a party or something. We can’t just fire her ass and kick her out on the street. She’s a sweet girl, and doesn’t strike me as a junkie. She’s been with us for a while now. I like her.”

“And she’s a hot one,” Lenny added.

Kenneth shook his head. “No. We have these rules set for a reason. We break them for her, and then we break them for all. I’m not going to allow us to become a drug den again. We’ve worked hard to keep our place clean, and I plan to keep it that way. I don’t think I have to remind you guys that we had to clean house before, and once we allow one sick person in it, the disease will spread.” Kenneth looked at Roman who had his arms crossed and was glaring. “We aren’t a fucking rehab center.”

“She doesn’t appear to be a junkie to me,” Roman argued again.

“Yet,” Kenneth retorted. “Rules are rules.”

“You and your goddamn rules! Pull that stick out of your ass sometimes, my friend. This is a woman’s life we are talking about. I don’t want to be the hard ass who always fires people.”

“You don’t have to. I will,” Kenneth said, looking down at a stack of papers, signaling in his own way that the conversation was over.

“I’ll take her,” Victor chimed in, surprising us all with his words. “I’ll add her to my doll collection. I have a bunch of broken dolls, so even if she is a junkie…”

Kenneth shrugged. “Fine by me. That’s your mess if you want it.”

“I have a way of fixing my broken toys,” Victor said with an evil smile.

“Go ahead and ask her if she wants to. We’ll present her with her options after the Tasting,” Matthew said. “But I agree that she broke the rules of Spiked Roses, so she has to go.”

“Don’t worry, Prince. I take good care of my toys. Ivy will be in good hands.” Victor smirked as he casually sipped from his scotch.

“All right. Anything else?” Kenneth asked again. When no one answered, he said, “See you gentlemen later tonight.”

* * *

Marlowe

“All right, ladies,” Tennessee began. “The rules of The Tasting Room are like any other. Most of you are familiar with what they are, but for you sweet dolls visiting for the evening, I want you to read them over carefully.” He passed a stack of papers around to each woman standing in the staff room before the event. “Unlike the art shows in Mr. Drayton’s galleries, no, and I repeat no, sexual acts are to be done in The Tasting Room tonight. This is not a sex party. All that dark licking and nipping is to be done back in the gentleman’s place of residence or in one of the hotel rooms we have upstairs if it’s been rented out for the night. The men know the rules, but I want to make sure you all understand that I don’t want to see a hand job, a blowjob, or even a peek of your ready little coochies. Save that shit for later.” When the dolls just stared at Tennessee with their emotionless faces, he added, “Read the rules right now. We aren’t in the safe little dollhouse anymore, ladies.”

I didn’t need to take a paper, but still did for show. This wasn’t my first rodeo, and I knew what would be expected of me. So I took the time rather than reading to check out the infamous Drayton’s Dolls whom we had heard rumors of. They belonged to Victor Drayton and worked his art shows at his galleries throughout the world. Not only did they act as the waitresses, the hostesses, and every staff member for the shows, but they also posed for most of the art as well as were part of live exhibits that people traveled around the world to see. And here they were. In this room. About to be my colleagues for Who’s Afraid of the Dark?

I wondered if they were afraid?

“They’re dressed like dolls,” my friend Ivy leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Like the ones my crazy aunt gave me for Christmas every year when I was a kid.”

“What did you expect?” I asked, though I was fascinated by their attire just as much as Ivy was.

Each woman wore a girlie dress with ruffles at the hem, patent leather shoes with white socks, the lacy cuffs folded down. Some wore little white gloves, while others had ribbons or bows in their hair. They were all flawlessly attired. Everything was pressed to perfection. And the eyelashes… the eyelashes were what amazed me the most. They were massive, thick, and black. They looked like the dolls that would close their eyes if you laid them down, but pop right open when you’d stand them up. And each woman had absolutely perfect stiff posture. They never slouched. Never seemed to relax in the slightest. They were as stiff as a… doll.

“I don’t understand it,” Ivy whispered.

“Understand what?”

“Why they would do it?”

We couldn’t take our eyes off of them as Ivy and I whispered back and forth. “Who knows? Money? People could wonder the same thing about us and why we would do a Tasting,” I said.

“I know. The doll angle just seems odd.”

“Interesting though.”

“Oh, interesting as fuck. I agree,” Ivy said. “Do you think Victor has sex with all of them?”

I raised my shoulders and crinkled my nose. “I don’t know. Seems to be a lot of dolls to have sex with. But I’ve given up on trying to figure out what floats the boat of these Spiked Roses rich fucks.”

“Unless that rich fuck is Harley Crow,” Ivy teased.

“Exactly. I would get on any sick and twisted boat if Harley was the captain at the helm.”

“Maybe tonight is your chance.”

“I hope so,” I confessed. “But maybe this isn’t his thing. What if he likes his sex simple and basic?”

“I doubt it. One look at Harley and you can see that there is nothing simple and basic about him,” Ivy countered.

“I don’t know. I can’t read him at all. I wish to fucking God I could.”

“I heard that Victor Drayton sticks large dildos up the dolls’ asses to help aid them in being so stiff,” Ivy said, changing the subject back to her fascination with a light giggle. “Like really, really large. Right up the poop shoot in front of all the people at the gallery.”

“Well, that would certainly make me walk and stand stiffly too.” We both laughed which drew some unwanted attention our way.

Tennessee cleared his throat and glared in our direction. “I’m going to assume that everyone in this room has read the contract before even agreeing to come here tonight. Remember that everything in it is negotiable. I will be working the Tasting tonight, but every managing member will also be present. So unless you want Daddy”—Tennessee pointed to himself with his two thumbs—“to get mad and whip each of your tiny backsides, I advise you to behave,” he said as he straightened his paisley cravat that accentuated his burnt orange smoking jacket. Only Tennessee Charles could pull off such loud and boisterous attire in a room full of black and elegance. “So if you are ready to sign the deal later tonight, signal for me to come over with a contract. But don’t call me over until you have hashed it all out. I don’t have time to be your mediator. Decide what hole is used, whose lube, and what dirty words need to be said. I don’t want any part of your kinky rules. And keep your woohas protected, ladies. Make sure those little wieners stay covered. No one wants the clap.” He clapped his hands together hard to accentuate his choice of word which startled many in the room. I saw that the loud noise even caused a couple of dolls to jump and break their proper stance.

Those poor things. They had no idea what a Tasting would be like. I could see on their faces they were downright terrified, and frankly, they should be. Though in all fairness, by some of the stories I had heard about Drayton’s Dollhouse, a Tasting may damn well be tame in comparison.

“It’s a three- to four-day contract. Nothing more,” Tennessee continued. “You don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to. If you are okay with giving it up, make sure to note that in the contract. Also, be sure to state any and all hard limits. I mean it. If you don’t want the man to poo on you, say so. If you don’t want the man to shove a baseball bat up your cooter, say so. Hard limits need to be in writing. Hell, you don’t have to do a thing except stand there and look pretty if that’s all you want to do. But you must all have manners and act respectfully to every guest in that room. And remember, ladies, sometimes the ugliest, shortest man has the biggest cock and the largest pocketbook. Keep the judging to yourselves.” He paused and looked around. “Are there any questions?” Tennessee waited, and when no one asked anything, he concluded with, “Well then, put your best southern pageant smiles on and go charm those dark fuckers. And don’t forget, ladies… if you find out that you are indeed afraid of the dark once the lights are turned out, don’t be crying for Daddy to hold your hand. You have to face that boogieman head on once you sign that contract.”

Chapter Four

Marlowe

He came. Harley Crow actually came. I could almost feel him before I even saw him. I knew Tennessee had said all owners were attending, but I hadn’t wanted to get my hopes up. It almost seemed unreal. Harley Crow and I were in The Tasting Room together. He would see me. I knew he would see me. It was just a matter of time until he’d peruse the women attending Who’s Afraid of the Dark? like everyone else did. And maybe if I was lucky enough, he would stop at my assigned table.

All the available women for contracting stood next to a high black glass table with rose petals scattered along the surface as well as the black marble floor. A single red candle in a black spiked vase sat in the middle of the table meant for two. Black and red were the colors of the room just like the colors of the club. The gothic ambiance was perfect for the event. Large urns of long stem red roses were placed around the room, and the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling cast an almost eerie light over the male guests dressed in sleek suits and ties that evening.

Even Harley Crow wore a suit. I damn near melted as I watched him while he spoke casually with the other gentlemen guests. His colorful tattoos peeked out from the edges of his respectable clothing, giving him an even more mysterious appearance than normal.

Regardless of the fact that Tennessee said I would look like a vampire with my long black hair and wearing a black dress, I still wore one. The fabric hugged my curves and flowed long in the back all the way to the open-toed heels I wore, but the dress was also short in the front, showing off my muscled legs I maintained by running at least a couple times a week. The entire back of the dress was cut out, exposing everything but the top of my ass and lower. Maybe Harley wouldn’t like black, but I sure as hell knew my red lace dress uniform hadn’t caught his eye, so maybe something along the lines of how he dressed would.

Every single woman in The Tasting Room was beautiful—even the creepy, yet oddly sexy dolls. I knew that my chances of hooking Harley on looks alone would be a challenge. But at least I had a shot. Maybe he would feel the same pull for me that I had for him. Maybe his insides would sizzle like mine did for him, if he only saw me. I just wanted him to see me.

A low hum mastered the room. Light chitchat had begun, blending with the soft music that played in the background. I had to remind myself to breathe when Harley finished his conversation and his eyes scanned the room, stopping on me when our eyes connected. Our eyes connected! It was brief because he broke our stare to walk up to the small mahogany wood bar to get a drink. A vodka as I knew he would.

Usually eye contact was enough to at least have the man approach a table. It was our way of silently communicating that we were at least interested in exploring the talk of a possible contract. Everything about The Tasting Room was consensual. The guests knew this, as did all the women. In fact, the women had all the control. We didn’t have to sign on the dotted line. If we weren’t interested and weren’t feeling the vibe, all we would have to do was politely decline and the man could move on to a different table and test his luck with another. I just wanted Harley to come to me before sampling another female. I knew these ladies. I lived with many at Marie’s Boarding House. They were beautiful on the inside and out, and they were sexy as hell. Granted, they all knew how I felt about Harley, so I was pleased to see most were already talking with others, or showing no interest in the man I wanted.

After getting his drink, Harley turned and watched the room like he had done every night before in the main room of the club. He studied the people, he glanced at the entrance several times, and even looked out the large floor to ceiling window that took up the entire west side of the room. The streetlights of New Orleans twinkled through the paned glass framed by red velvet curtains that flanked each side, and Harley appeared to be staring at each light individually. Like so many times before, it seemed as if he were off in another world. Not the world I presently occupied.

A man walked up to my table, and I panicked. He was a guest for the evening, because I didn’t recognize him as one of the regular patrons. But I didn’t want him to stop in front of me. No. I wanted Harley.

I tried to not be rude, but I looked up at him and shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone else.” I gave a warm smile, hoping I didn’t offend him.

The quickest way to be banned from future Tastings was by giving Tennessee the impression you couldn’t conduct yourself in a polite and respectable manner at all times, regardless if the men where total assholes. It was all about being in control. Tennessee wanted us to maintain that control at all times as he had lectured over and over, time and time again. I understood this fact, and actually prided myself on the ability to do so.

Luckily for me, the man nodded and moved on which cleared the path for Harley once again. But I didn’t know how long I would have before someone else approached me. Men had started to watch and wander as they sipped on their cocktails. Some were still chatting with others in the room, not ready to engage in the Tasting fully quite yet, but I could still see that some were getting restless to get the event of contracting with someone started. Would it be possible to turn down every single man who approached me without upsetting Tennessee? As any good housemother would do, he watched us all like a hawk. He would catch on to what I was doing, and he wouldn’t be happy about it in the slightest.

And then it happened…

Harley Crow looked at me again. But this time it wasn’t a simple glance like moments ago. This time he watched me like he had watched the people of Spiked Roses so many nights before. I could practically feel his eyes heating their way to my core. The intensity… but I refused to look away. I wasn’t one for flirting. It made me feel ridiculous every time I tried. I wasn’t good at the lure that some of the girls in this room had mastered. I only could stand there and hope that he would walk my way. I fiddled nervously with a rose petal between my fingers, and finally had the courage to smile at him.

Though I felt cheesy doing so, it seemed to have worked. He started making his way across the room to where I stood. Holy shit. Harley Crow was walking straight toward me!

As he approached the table, there was an awkward silence before I finally said, “Hi.”

With a devilish smile, he nodded his head slowly. “Is this where we have small talk?”

“I guess so.”

I was so out of my league. I had no idea what to say or do. My legs felt weak, and I now wished that they provided us with chairs rather than having us standing by the tables. I leaned my weight against the table to help, but I still worried I was going to faint and make a fool of myself. The nerves were attacking at full speed.

He glanced down to where I had nearly pulverized the petal between my fingers, and asked, “Nervous?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” I placed the destroyed petal on the table, but then wondered what I would do with my hands now.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” he asked with the same devilish smile he’d arrived with. Clearly, he was finding this all amusing. I, on the other hand, was not. My armpits were sweating, and I was forced to transfer my weight from one foot to the other just to make sure I didn’t lose feeling in my legs and collapse.

“I’m not afraid. Just nervous,” I countered, trying desperately to get my shit together by taking big and even inhales of air. Man, oh man, Harley had a breathtaking power over me. Just having him so close was like a punch to the gut.

“Nervous of what?”

“You,” I said too quickly, instantly wishing I hadn’t when the single word escaped my lips.

His eyebrow rose. “Me?” He looked down at my hands again and noticed that I was picking at my cuticles with the same nervous energy that had destroyed the rose petal. He placed his palm on top of my two fists. Though he didn’t take hold, the rough skin, the warmth, and the weight of his hand simply resting on mine seemed to instantly calm the restless energy. “Why do I make you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly. It was the truth. I wasn’t exactly a smooth operator when it came to men, but I normally didn’t act like a crazy, naïve schoolgirl either.

“Do I scare you?”

“No. Why would you scare me?”

“Because of who I am.”

“Who are you?”

The wicked smile returned as he tilted his head slightly as if looking at me from a different angle. “You know. I know you know.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m scared of you. I don’t scare easily,” I said, which was a complete lie.

But I was getting a bit more control over myself and felt as if I could play this game at least a little. I didn’t want to lose him completely because I was nothing but a fumbling mess. I glanced down at his hand that rested on mine and saw a tattoo along the curve of flesh that ran from his index finger and thumb that read, Your Throat Goes Here, in thick black ink.

I smirked. “So is that tattoo meant for your victims or the women you fuck?”

“Some would say they are the same thing,” he answered so quickly and easily that my heart skipped with the dangerous warning, but I wanted do my best to keep that hidden, so I simply smiled as my eyes locked with his.

“Your past doesn’t frighten me.”

He took his palm off of mine, which actually made me feel a sense of loss. I’d enjoyed the weight and heat of it. He took a long sip of his vodka which he held in the other hand before asking, “Is that why you are here tonight at this Tasting? Because you can’t be scared?”

“I’m not scared of dark tastes in the bedroom, if that’s what you are asking,” I said, focusing on not picking at my cuticle even though without Harley’s palm, the nervous energy had returned. He, however, seemed completely cool and collected as he stood before me with his vodka in hand.

“And you feel you know what all those dark tastes would be? What they would be with me?” His voice seemed to deepen slightly as he asked the question. It was subtle, but I felt the energy shift between us. There wasn’t as much nervous energy, but more sizzle coursing through the space between us.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“And you are experienced in these dark tastes?”

I couldn’t read him. He seemed amused and curious. But there was something more going on behind those veiled eyes of his.

As for his question on experience… I wasn’t. Not really. I knew about dark tastes. I had heard about, seen videos, and had even spoken to other staff of Spiked Roses about what dark desires really could mean. I knew I liked the bite of pain. Because of past Tastings, I had played with being spanked like a naughty girl, flogged, and paddled. I had been tied with rope before. But was I really experienced in truly dark tastes? No.

“I don’t have to be experienced to not be afraid.” I tried to divert rather than answer clearly. I didn’t want to lie to him. Something about the way he watched me with such intensity told me lying to a man such as Harley Crow was a bad idea.

“Why are you here tonight?” he asked, as he finished the last sip of his drink.

Tennessee had told all the staff time and time again to never answer that type of question with “for the money”. Never. It was a big no no in The Tasting Room because he said it made Spiked Roses sound like a whorehouse in the Wild West. And though I’d attended every Tasting for the one purpose of making money only, tonight really was different.

“To meet you,” I answered truthfully. Why I was being so blunt and bold, I had no idea. But again, it was almost as if Harley demanded my complete honesty. Like he had some type of spell cast upon me.

His eyes narrowed, and that impish smile that had been on his face for most of our conversation straightened. It was as if the clouds from the storm blew in. “To meet me? Why would you want to meet me?”

“Why not?” I wanted another rose petal to crush between my fingertips.

“What’s your name?” he asked, still looking serious and pensive.

“Marlowe Masters.”

“What’s your real name?” he asked. “That clearly isn’t your real name.”

I had never had anyone call me out on that fact before. The question almost felt like a smack to the face. “How do you know Marlowe isn’t my real name?”

He didn’t reply but raised one dark eyebrow and leaned his body against the table top between us.

“And what’s your real name? Is Harley Crow really the name you were born with?”

I succeeded in breaking the dark energy that had washed over him when he smirked and that devilish grin returned. “If I told you my real name, I would have to kill you. And I think we both know that I am capable of doing such a thing.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a smile as well. “I, too, would have to kill you if I told you. And you don’t know what I am capable of,” I added with a playful wink.

“Well then,” he said as he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Marlowe Masters.”

I took his hand in mine and shook it, trying hard not to focus on how his simplest touch sent tingles through me as they swirled around each bone in my spine. “Nice to meet you, Harley Crow.”

Harley leaned in toward me, pressing his upper body weight against his forearms resting on the table. “I will let you in on a little secret, however.”

“Oh?” I leaned in as well, now being able to smell the rich earthy smell of the sexiest man alive. I’d always known he would smell this good. Inhaling deeply, I tried not to moan in satisfaction on how my first fantasy—how good the man would smell—did not disappoint.

“I’ve never been to one of these Tastings before,” he confessed.

I didn’t want to reveal the fact that I already knew this, so I remained silent and just showed interest by leaning a little closer and tilting my head to appear as if I was listening.

“So what happens next?” he asked.

“Depends on what you want,” I said.

“What if I want you?”

I tried to not explode right then and there and bit my lower lip to try to keep myself grounded in reality. “Well then,” I said as calmly and coolly as I could, “we negotiate.”

“Then let’s negotiate,” he said in the smoothest, richest voice I had ever heard.

With butterflies beating against my sternum, I looked over at Tennessee who sat in a large leather chair in a far off corner. I signaled for him to come over which meant we were ready for one of the standard contracts for the night to arrive.

“Did you already read the contract for this evening?” I asked.

“I did. Did you?”

I nodded. “I did.”

“Do you agree with everything in it?” he asked.

I nodded again. “I do.”

“Any hard limits?”

I paused, wondering if he would take it to a point I was not comfortable with. Maybe I was dumb, but I really didn’t get the weird kink vibe from Harley. I didn’t think I had to tell him not to piss or shit on me. I didn’t think I had to tell him what I would or wouldn’t enjoy. I had a feeling he knew exactly what I would like and exactly how to deliver it.

“I can always say the safe word if there is,” I said softly. “But like I said, I’m not afraid.”

The terms of the contract were simple. One weekend with the ‘buyer’ at his location of choice. Sexual play could include but was not limited to: knife play, breath play, bondage, anal play, corporal punishment, kidnap and rape fantasy, Master/slave and any other play that could push the boundaries of fear. All play could be terminated with the single word ‘RED’. At which time participants could part ways and money would be returned to the ‘buyer’. The standard price was $25,000 for the weekend, but most girls negotiated it up from there. I had no intention of doing so. The truth of the matter was that I would have done it for free. Hell, I would pay the $25,000 myself for one weekend with the man I had been lusting after for so long.

I had seen this contract in some variation many times. It was fairly black and white. This contract also had a box that could be marked upon negotiation. It was agreeing whether sexual intercourse was permissible or not. I had never marked the box before. I’d always wanted to keep the play non-sexual. I had lost many contracts due to that fact, but I was not going to give up my pussy for anyone. But when Tennessee laid the contract in front of us, and had both of us initial the spots we were supposed to, he paused at the box for sex and looked at me and then Harley.

Harley read the words and then looked up at me. “Sex. Yes? No?”

I got the feeling he didn’t care either way, which slightly disappointed me. I wanted to scream “Hell yes!” but also wasn’t sure how desperate that would make me look to be willing to have sex with a man I’d just met. I was trying so hard to play it cool.

Rather than answering or overthinking it any further, I went ahead and marked the box with a ‘yes’, and turned the page as if it were something as simple as that. I didn’t look up to see what expression Harley had on his face, but since he said nothing more, Tennessee continued on with getting the rest of our initials and then finally our signatures. He then pulled out a dagger that was used to pierce both of our fingers so we could seal the contract with a drop of each of our blood. Spiked Roses liked a little bit of theatrics with the Tastings, and this little element of sealing the deal with blood did just that.

Harley pushed the dagger away and pulled out his own knife. It had a deep burgundy handle that reminded me of the richest wine. “I prefer to use my own,” he said as he ran it along the edge of his thumb, drawing his own blood. When he stamped his thumb on the contract, he reached out for my hand and handed the knife to Tennessee so he could wipe the knife off with disinfectant.

I placed my hand in his and felt a sense of warmth and security wash over me. A complete polar opposite of what I should have been feeling at a Tasting called Who’s Afraid of the Dark? When Tennessee handed the knife back to Harley, he took the blade and sliced my thumb as softly and gently as he could. I could barely feel the sting. He then placed my bleeding thumb to the contract himself. It was so fucking hot. I have no idea why. But I was so incredibly turned on with the way he handled my hand. If this was even the slightest peek at how he would handle my body… I would be ruined and forever be under the spell of Harley Crow.

“Shall we leave?” he asked as he handed Tennessee the contract. “Or would you like to stay for a drink?”

Not in the mood to stay in The Tasting Room any longer, I said, “Let me get my stuff for the weekend out of the staff room. I’ll meet you up front.”

He nodded as he took my hand he was still holding to his lips and kissed it softly. “All you have to do is say RED. I will stop immediately. But if I don’t hear that word this weekend, then whatever I do, however I do it, is fair game. Understood?”

I nodded and swallowed hard. His lips were so soft. His eyes were so hard. The combination of the two almost stole my rapid breath from me. “Deal.”

“Let’s see, Miss Masters, if you truly are not afraid of the dark.”

Chapter Five

Marlowe

We sat in the back of a town car in near silence. Harley hadn’t said much other than that we were heading to the docks. He had a boat waiting there to get us to his house. He said the only way to get to his home was via boat through the swampy channels of the bayou. The idea of living out in the swamps of New Orleans intrigued me, though it also seemed like a long way to commute every day for work.

And the bugs.

I bet there was a shitload of bugs.

Oh and the alligators.

Yeah… on second thought, maybe living in the bayou wasn’t as intriguing as I’d first thought.

Staring out the window into the blackness of New Orleans scattered with city lights, I tried to calm my nerves. I had played with other partners before, done a few Tastings, but this time was different. It felt different. The energy between Harley and me seemed unlike all the others. In the past, I was in control. Yes, the man technically ‘owned’ me for whatever period we had agreed upon, but I was truly the one in the driver’s seat. We could only do what I agreed to, and I could stop the play at any time. The man was at my mercy.

But with Harley, I felt like the rules had changed. He was in control. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint why I felt that way, but I was now at his mercy.

When the car stopped at the docks, Harley got out, walked around the car, and opened the door for me. The driver was already getting my bag and carrying it down the dock.

Harley placed his hand on my lower back and guided me down the wooden planks. His touch against my spine reminded me of a branding iron. I could focus on very little other than the heat of his large fingers splayed against my exposed flesh. We were connected… touching.

The night was warm, but not terribly muggy like it had been over the past few days. It was clear and the stars, as well as the nearly full moon, shone brightly. Though the walkway leading to the boats was illuminated by tiny lights, we would have been able to see just fine without them.

This was the time that warning bells should have been pealing crazily inside my very being. I walked toward the unknown. I had no idea where I was going, and knew very little about the man I was walking with. In fact, all I knew about this man was that he killed people for a living. He was the bad guy. The criminal. The one I was supposed to be afraid of. But I heard nothing. No warning bells. No inner voice screaming at me for being a stupid girl. Did I not possess the voice of reason? The voice of sanity? Why was nothing but excitement knocking on my door?

I saw Harley’s driver place my bag in a speedboat up ahead. It was a simple boat. There was nothing flashy or anything that screamed a billionaire owned it. It was like many of the other boats at the dock. Plain. It was silver with a white stripe down the side. The interior leather was white, and it could maybe seat five people comfortably. It wasn’t like I was expecting to be taken to his house in the thick of the bayou on a yacht or anything, but I was surprised by the average mode of transportation Harley had chosen. The boat was something that I could have owned.

Like the gentleman I was finding Harley to be, he helped me onto the boat by holding my hands and practically lifting me down. He didn’t let go of me until I was seated in the chair next to the driver’s seat. He then pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it to the driver with a handshake.

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Crow,” the driver said as he turned and walked back toward the car.

We were alone.

We were finally alone.

“You ready?” Harley asked after he prepared the boat to leave.

I nodded, not really sure if I truly was. I swallowed hard as I watched Harley’s tattooed hand turn the key in the ignition to start the boat. The low rumble as the engine revved up vibrated beneath me, only adding to the building nerves attacking my body.

Was I scared?

No.

But what?

I think it was the silence. We were too quiet.

“How far do we have to go?” I asked.

“A couple of miles. Not too far, but far enough.”

“Far enough?”

Harley stared ahead, standing with his feet spread apart and his broad shoulders held back as he drove the boat away from the dock. The water splashed up behind us, leaving a small wake of waves as we slowly drove away. There was a seat behind him, but it appeared he was more comfortable towering over the steering wheel instead.

“Far enough from… everything.”

I hadn’t pictured Harley as a hermit, but considering his closed, introverted behavior at Spiked Roses, I guess it did make some sense.

After we’d motored far enough away from the dock and the other boats, Harley stopped and removed his jacket, revealing a long sleeve shirt beneath it. I could still only see the tattoos on his hands and the ones peeking out from his collar. I couldn’t wait to see more. I was curious to see what painted each inch of his skin.

Placing his coat over my shoulders, he said, “It gets a little chilly on the water with the wind whipping past us.”

I wasn’t cold, and didn’t really believe I would need his jacket, but I wasn’t going to argue. I liked seeing that, though Harley Crow was anything but soft, he had been taught manners and how to treat a lady.

“Thank you,” I said, noticing that he took the time to make sure it was secured around me. He even delicately swooped my long hair out from underneath it. As he walked over to the steering wheel and started the boat again, I asked, “Do you like living out here? In the bayou?”

“I wouldn’t live here otherwise,” he answered, still staring ahead. “I don’t do things I don’t like.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to go home every night.”

He shrugged. “I enjoy the boat ride. It settles my mind.”

I looked around and saw how that could happen. The only sounds were those of nature and the low rumble of the boat as it sliced through the calm waters.

“Do you always drive the boat this slow?”

“I’m carrying precious cargo,” he quipped.

I liked how simply he had answered my question. He cared about my comfort and safety, and a warm rush filled my belly as I couldn’t help but smile.

“Have you always lived in Louisiana?” I asked.

“No.” He continued to stare ahead.

Jesus, small talk with this man was near impossible.

He glanced over at me and watched as I pulled my hair to one side to try to keep it from flying around all over the place. “Do you want me to slow down even more?”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. My hair just has a mind of its own sometimes.”

“I like your hair,” he complimented as he looked back ahead of him. “So many women don’t allow their hair to grow long and flow like it’s meant to be. They restrict it from its natural beauty. You don’t. I like that.”

I may have melted right there in the white leather seat of that boat with his words. Harley Crow was giving me praise. He liked my hair. He was complimenting me!

“You can thank my mother for that,” I somehow managed to say between all the giddy feelings flooding over me. “She had long black hair that flowed to her waist. It wasn’t straight like mine, but had curls. She used to tell me that a good Mexican woman never cuts her hair. Her grandmother had told her that. It was a belief passed down to me, and though I don’t embrace everything about my heritage, that one seemed to stick.”

“Mexican huh?” Harley looked at me quickly. “I didn’t guess that about you. I would have said Italian or something. Your skin is fair.”

“I know. I was the only one in my family without rich caramel-colored skin. But everyone in my family tree was full Mexican as far as I know. Both my parents were born in Mexico City.” I pulled the coat up around my shoulders as it started to fall off. Harley had been right; it was a little chilly riding the boat through the bayou. “Who knows? Maybe I was the milkman’s baby.”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“I haven’t in a very long time. Not since I left home. But, yes, I can. My mother never really learned to speak English. I guess she didn’t feel she had to. She would watch hours of those Spanish telenovelas that were on television. She also had a small parrot with a missing eye that spoke Spanish as well. My home was not your typical American type home.”

“Where was home?”

“Oregon. The drier, boring part.”

“Not a fan, huh?” he asked.

“Not a fan at all,” I replied. “I left at seventeen. I had graduated early with the one intent of leaving as fast as I could.”

“Why?”

“Big dreams, shitty past. Isn’t that why everyone leaves everything they ever knew?”

It dawned on me that Harley had successfully changed the direction of the conversation to where it concentrated fully on me.

“What about you?” I asked, trying again. “You never said where you lived before moving to New Orleans.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Not one to talk?” I asked as I watched the way his eyes studied the landscape before us. There was always so much focus on how he watched things. His eyes were like magnets, drawing everything into their depths. So serious, so dark.

“I talk. I just like to talk about things that matter. My past doesn’t matter.”

“What types of things matter to you?”

He paused for a couple of minutes, looked at me briefly, and then straight ahead again. “Things that make us who we are. Who we are right now, this very minute. Like the tattoo on your back,” he said. “That is not a small piece of ink. It took a huge commitment. It clearly means something. It matters. So tell me the story of your tattoo.”

It was funny how I often forgot I even had the tattoo on my back. Maybe because I never saw it, or maybe because when I’d gotten it done, it was my closure for a time I never wanted to relive again. No one had really asked me why I’d gotten the tattoo or what it really meant. I got compliments or questions about if it hurt getting it, especially since it covered most of my back. But I was never asked about it in the manner that Harley just did.

I shrugged. “It’s just a tree.”

“A large tree. And it’s dead. Why do you have a large dead tree on your back?”

“It’s not really dead. Just dying.”

“It’s black and white. Is there a reason you chose no color?”

I shrugged again. “Seemed right.”

Harley looked at me and smirked. “Not one to talk?”

“Like you said, I talk. Just about things that matter.”

“Well, I like it,” he said simply as he turned the boat to the right, going down a different channel of the bayou. “I’ve seen a lot of tattoos, and yours is captivating. I can tell there is a deep story behind it. Even if you don’t want to tell me what that story is.”

“Do all your tattoos tell a story?”

“Yes. Some stories are better than others. Maybe I’ll tell you someday. The day you feel comfortable enough to tell me your story.”

I already knew that day would never come, but I did like the idea that Harley actually thought there would be a time when he and I may be close enough to share past cobwebs. A butterfly fluttering in my stomach sent a shiver down my spine. I liked this man. I mean, yeah, I knew I already lusted after him, but I actually liked how easy it was to simply banter. It wasn’t cheesy or forced. And it didn’t feel fake. In fact, even though we both were avoiding going down paths we were uncomfortable trekking, it was, by far, one of the most genuine conversations I remembered having.

We sat in silence for a while, taking in the song of the swamp with the undertone of the boat announcing its presence. It truly was beautiful in an eerie, almost haunting way. There was not much civilization other than a few shacks or fishing huts along the banks, and we hadn’t crossed another boat during our voyage to Harley’s isolated house.

“Do you live in one of these shacks?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Not quite.”

“How did you find a house out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“It used to be an old fishing house that I built onto and turned into my home. I like the security of it.”

“Security?”

“The only way you can get to my house is by boat. I can hear the boats coming far better than I could hear a car or somebody on foot. No surprise attacks that way.” He smiled. “And the gators are my free security.”

“I thought you were the one who did the killing. Why are you worried about being attacked?”

“The need for revenge is one of the most powerful emotions one can possess. Vengeance places a huge bounty on my head. Larger than any bounty I’ve ever collected for assassinating someone.”

“Do you have a lot of enemies?”

He nodded slowly. “I would say that is a fair assumption.”

“And they all want you dead?” The thought of someone killing Harley made my heart skip. I had never considered the fact that his life was ever in danger.

“At the very least,” he answered with that roguish smile I had seen earlier in the night. “Death would be too merciful. They would want me to pay first. Pay in ways that would have me eventually begging to be killed.”

“Jesus,” I barely said as my mouth suddenly felt dry. “I had no idea. Does that scare you?”

He looked at me with the most serious expression I had yet to see on his face.

“There are things that scare me. But death is not one of them. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my day will come. Being afraid of when that day arrives, does me no good. It only weakens me. In my profession, weakness is not an option.”

“Your profession. Why?” Maybe I was being too bold, but it seemed like it was okay to ask. Hopefully I hadn’t misjudged, but something in my gut told me that Harley would actually answer that question.

“Because the first time I pulled the trigger of the gun and stole the life from someone else, I opened the door of Hell and walked through. Once you step over that threshold, there is no way to exit. You are there. You have no choice from that point on to take it back. So rather than standing by the door like so many others have done and allow darkness to consume you, I decided to charge all the way in. I don’t do anything half-assed, I guess you could say. I’m a perfectionist. So if I do something, I am going to do everything I can to be the best.”

“Did everyone you kill deserve it? Were they all bad people?”

He glanced at me again for a moment. Not as long as the times before, but I could see a look of sorrow on his face when he did. It was for the briefest second, but I was positive that I had seen it.

“Does anyone deserve to be killed?”

“Well… I mean…” I didn’t mean it like that, or did I? “Bad people. Like people who kill people.”

“Like me. I’m the bad guy in this story. Do you think I deserve to be killed?”

“Maybe you do,” I answered honestly.

Harley didn’t look at me, nor appear insulted by my words. He simply nodded slowly. “Maybe I do.”

“Is it something you would ever consider not doing anymore? Stop being an assassin? I mean… you own Spiked Roses, and it doesn’t seem like money is an issue.” I didn’t really know that Harley was a billionaire like the rest since he definitely never flaunted that fact, but I also knew that all the members were, or at least were on their way to that level. “Only wealthy men are part of the club right?”

“It’s no longer about the money now. That’s true,” he said as he decelerated the boat even slower than he was already going. “But being a hired killer isn’t something you can just walk away from. I can’t wake up one morning and simply say I quit.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. I already crossed the threshold into Hell. No turning back. I don’t get to retire with a nice little pension and a retirement home in Florida. I said goodbye to that possibility of an outcome a long time ago.”

“So what is your outcome then?”

“I retire when I’m buried six feet under.”

“That’s an awfully morbid future.”

He smirked with a half laugh. “Trust me. Morbid ending is fitting for the morbid past I’ve also had.”

“Then why did you become a managing member of Spiked Roses?”

“It seemed fun. Different, and I needed something different at the time. It’s not my gig to be a businessman, but the others are, so I felt comfortable investing. I’ve never felt as if I truly belonged to anything before or anyone. This was my first opportunity to connect with something other than isolation. It felt right. And when I heard the history of the location… I was hooked.”

“Oh, the serial killer who massacred all those women and buried all the bodies with rose petals?”

I remembered the story from when I was hired. As part of the hiring orientation, all the girls were told the name of the club came from the building’s gruesome past. A serial killer in 1892 had killed 22 women with a spike through the heart and then buried them in a shallow grave in a black bag covered in rose petals to disguise the odor of their rotting corpses. It was the type of tale to give you nightmares, and I was always scared to go down to the cellar to collect bottles of wine or booze because I was terrified I would run into a ghost. It smelled haunted down there. I swore I could smell death. Tennessee thought I was just trying to get out of work when I would practically beg for him to do it for me, but I really was scared of going down the long dark stairway.

“Why did you decide to work at Spiked Roses?”

“I had moved into Marie St. Claire’s Boarding House, and another woman who lived there told me about the place. It’s funny because almost every young woman who moves to Marie’s place with stars in their eyes of a better life in New Orleans seems to get a job at the club. But I had heard about it and how much money you could make. I didn’t apply right off the bat though. I really thought I had a chance of making it as a musician as so many other fools do. But I soon realized that making money for tips was not going to put a roof over my head no matter how cheap Marie’s boarding house was. And when I saw that other women were making more money in a night than I could scrape together in a month, I knew Spiked Roses was calling my name.”

“A musician?” Harley asked as he looked at me with raised eyebrows. “A singer?”

“Oh, God no,” I said shaking my head and giggling. “Not even close. I play the guitar. Classical Spanish guitar is my training and what I do best.”

“Classical Spanish? I’m not sure I know what that is. Will you play it for me sometime?”

I shrugged my shoulders, and wished I hadn’t revealed that side of me to him. I hadn’t exactly decided to give up playing, but I had pushed the passion aside. “I haven’t played in a long time.”

He pointed to a house in the distance. “There it is.”

I peered through the darkness at a long dock that led to a two-story house that reminded me of so many historical houses in the Garden District of NOLA, though Harley’s house was on thick stilts to keep the foundation high off the swampy ground, much like other houses in the bayou. It was a far cry from all the shacks we had passed and what I had envisioned when you think of a house in the swamp. The iron railing that ran along the second story, large windows and green shutters screamed classic Cajun charm. Immense white columns lined the bottom half of the house with a wrap around front porch that was accentuated by hanging ferns and offered oversized rocking chairs to sit in and look out over the yard. There was even a three tiered fountain right before you reached the porch stairs required to reach the raised house. I appreciated the fact that Harley had rebuilt the shack but held on to the heritage of its surroundings. You could see he had taken the time to make it not only a southern palace, but a safe compound to fight off the vicious Louisiana storms that often ravaged the area when Mother Nature unleashed her wrath. It was lit from the inside, as well as had outside garden lights illuminating the grounds. It was like a beacon, welcoming us. Large swampy trees flanked each side, but the house dominated in presence. Much like its owner.

“Wow,” I said, surprised to see Harley lived in such a large house, and something so grand and elegant. “It’s lovely. Not what I pictured in my head at all.”

“Did you expect to see a shack?” His face lit up with pride as he motored slowly toward his personal dock. There were two other boats of similar style to the one we were on tied to the dock as well. I guess he had his choice between average modes of transportation and average modes of transportation.

“No, but wow. You built this?”

He nodded. “I had help. Construction workers and shit, but yeah. This was my labor of love.”

Harley pulled the boat to the side of the dock, shut off the ignition, and quickly jumped out, tying it off. He then reached down to assist me out of the boat. Once again, as I took his hand, we were touching—connecting. Such a simple touch and yet my insides burst into a full inferno of sensations.

Our trip had been interesting. I had learned so much about Harley Crow. Much more than I had known before. But now the man was even more of a mystery. He was a closed book, and I desperately wanted to read every torn and bent page.

“Welcome to my home,” he said as he placed his hand on my lower back and guided me toward the house with my bag packed for the weekend slung over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

One step, two. Two step, three. It had begun.

I was about to cross the threshold of Harley Crow’s kingdom. What that meant… I would soon find out.

Chapter Six

Marlowe

I remembered when I was a little girl and an older cousin of mine tried to force me to go with her into a fun house at a local carnival. I didn’t want to. I was terrified. The only way to enter was through a gigantic clown’s mouth that had demonic eyes. My cousin dragged me kicking and screaming, and I’d truly thought I would die if I entered. I’d had no idea what was inside, but it certainly wasn’t going to be fun like it claimed. I’d actually puked. That is what finally stopped my cousin in her tracks. I had gotten so frightened, and the sense of dread had been so powerful in my gut, that I had vomited all over her brand new leather boots.

My stomach felt like that now. I don’t know if it was necessarily dread this time, but I was stepping into the unknown, and the idea of what could come did terrify me. It wasn’t so much the thought of sexual play that had me on edge. For some reason, the idea of that actually excited me more than anything. It was more about how Harley and I would get to the point of actually having the play and potential sex. How? Did we keep talking like we had on the boat? Do we just cut to the chase and get busy? But even then, who makes that step? It was awkward in a way. Like a first date. A really fucked up first date.

The entryway of the house was large, but not overwhelming. There wasn’t a big foyer like most houses of this style had. The entire inside of the house was set up more like a large studio you would find in Manhattan. The entry and living room were combined into one huge open floor plan. It was massive, made to look even larger with the lack of walls breaking the space into tiny rooms. The staircase to go upstairs was to the left, but you barely noticed it was there. The stairs were not the focus of the house. What was the focus the minute you walked in was that the entire back wall of the room was all glass. It looked out onto a large pool, a tiny cottage-style pool house and the expanse of swamp behind it. Large trees were visible for as far as the eye could see. It almost made you feel as if you were standing outside even though you were in the living area of the house.

The furniture was masculine. Brown and burgundy leather chairs that looked worn and comfy beckoned one to curl up in them with a good book. There was also a large tan leather couch that was shaped like a U with tables and Tiffany lamps on each end. Large oriental rugs covered the gray tiled floor. Every bit of furniture was modern yet classic, classy but comfortable. Bookshelves from floor to ceiling were on the right side of the room, surrounding a fireplace that appeared like it had been stolen from an old southern plantation home. The antique charm of the hearth mixed with the modern architecture of the house blended perfectly. And the art… the art on the walls was what had me standing in place, tongue-tied and in awe. Large framed paintings of what appeared to be demons, spirits, angels and other gothic elements took up every ounce of wall space. They didn’t appear religious in nature, but simply magnificent pieces of work that were beautiful. I couldn’t help but feel like staring into the intricacies of the art would be like looking into the small details of Harley Crow’s soul.

My gawking at his house came to a stop when Harley bent down and removed his shoes by the door. There was a small rug next to the coat closet, that I assumed he wanted guests to place their shoes on. I waited until he removed his first shoe and placed it on the rug just to be sure, and then I kicked off my black pumps and placed them as nicely as I could next to his. Something told me that Harley would appreciate the effort. Taking another peek at his house, I also noticed it was immaculate. So clean in every nook and cranny. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing scattered, no mail piled up on a table anywhere, and no useless knick-knacks filling up space. Everything in the house seemed to have a purpose.

“Clean freak?” I teased.

“Yes,” he said as he placed his second shoe nicely beside his first. He had no shame in the way he answered me. It was matter of fact, and he clearly accepted and owned that simple truth about himself.

“Oh good, you’re back,” came a female’s voice.

I turned to see a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties entering the room through an archway that was lined with worn brick. She had auburn hair that rested on her shoulders, tiny in frame—almost childlike, and I instantly hated her. Okay, maybe not hated her, but definitely was jealous of her. She was the pure and innocent type of pretty that had grown men eating out of her palm. She was barefoot and wearing nothing more than a white tank top with her perky breasts and nipples pressing against the material on display, and cut off jean shorts. Casual and stunning. Bitch.

“I was going to turn out all the lights and lock up for the night,” she continued as she walked up to where we stood. As she got closer, I could see she had freckles. Of course she had freckles just to add to her cute factor. She stopped and looked at me with a warm smile and extended her hand. “I’m Layla. Welcome. I know it’s quite the trip getting out here, but it definitely is worth it once you arrive.”

I wasn’t sure why she was welcoming me. Did she live here? Was this her home? She definitely gave off the vibe that she lived here, and she didn’t appear like she was a servant or anything.

Not wanting Harley to think I was rude, I extended my hand and shook hers. “I’m Marlowe. Thank you.”

“The house should always stay locked, Layla,” Harley chastised which was rewarded with an eye roll of Layla’s long-lashed green eyes. “I mean it. You know better than that, young lady.”

Layla smirked as she looked back at me. “I hope you know what you are getting yourself into with this man,” she said playfully. “He can be an overbearing, overprotective ass sometimes.” She walked up to Harley and stood on tiptoe as she kissed his cheek. “I’m off to bed. You guys have a good night.”

Harley patted the side of her arm. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I said as well as I watched her open the sliding glass door and followed her movements as she descended the stairs and walked toward the small cottage by the pool.

“That’s Layla,” Harley said as he dropped my bag by a chair and walked toward a wet bar that had decanter sets filled to the rim with different colored booze. He stood behind the rich wood of the bar, grabbed two glasses, and looked up at me. “What can I get you to drink?”

I wasn’t really a hard liquor type of gal, and I much preferred wine, but I didn’t want him opening a bottle special for just me. “Whatever you are having.” I felt silly standing in the same place I had been since entering the house, so I took a few steps closer to him and the bar.

“Vodka? By itself? Are you sure?” His eyebrow rose, and he watched me in only the way that this man had the power to do.

It sounded awful. Who would drink vodka all by itself? It would burn all the way down my esophagus and then sizzle in my belly like acid.

He must have been able to read my feelings on my face because he asked, “Do you like wine? Cabernet? I have a great bottle I could open for you.”

Oh thank fucking God. I wouldn’t have to sip on a drink I hated all while pretending I enjoyed the flavor.

“Yes, please. That sounds perfect.”

I really did need a drink to settle my nerves, and red wine was my drink of choice.

He pulled out a bottle from underneath the bar and began opening it with a regular corkscrew. Nothing fancy or electric to ease in the opening. Old school. I liked it.

“Who is Layla?” I asked, trying not to sound jealous even though I really was. I hadn’t known that Harley had a woman living with him, and it pissed me off now that I did.

He smiled as he poured the wine into a lovely glass that had ivy etched into the crystal. “You’ll be fucking her tonight. I like two women in my bed at all times.” He extended the glass of wine to me with an even larger smile.

I couldn’t take the glass in fear that I would drop it. “Wait. What? I… we didn’t discuss… I don’t…”

“Oh yes. I plan on whipping one of you while the other sucks me off. And I expect to watch you both lick each other’s pussies while I recover enough to do it all over again.”

What the hell? I hadn’t even considered that another player would be involved, and I hated the idea. I didn’t swing that way, and I didn’t want to fucking share Harley with anyone. He was mine! Well, at least for the weekend. But fuck. I hadn’t listed this as one of my hard limits. Fuck.

“I umm… I don’t really…”

He chuckled and motioned for me to take the wine glass, which I did. “Relax. I’m kidding. Layla is just a friend. More like a daughter to me. She came to live with me a couple of years ago because she had nowhere else to go. Her father was killed, and he was a good friend of mine.”

“Oh, that’s awful. He was killed? Assassinated?” I don’t know why my thoughts went to the extreme rather than thinking that Layla’s father could have simply died in a car crash or by cancer, but this was Harley Crow and his past after all.

Harley nodded as he poured vodka from a crystal decanter into a tumbler. “One of the largest bounties I had ever seen was on her father’s head. Hell, I was tempted to take the job myself. Layla had one on her head as well. I guess you could say that friendship took over, and I felt that, though, I couldn’t save her father, I owed it to the man to at least save his daughter. So I did.”

“Why couldn’t you save her father?”

Wiping down the counter, he said, “There’s no changing a hit once it is set in stone. Nothing can be done. You can’t prevent the fates. I maybe could have stopped one attempt, perhaps even two. But eventually it would have caught up to him.”

“But you saved Layla? Will the fates catch up with her?”

He nodded. “Most likely. We both know that. All I can do is try my best to fight them.”

“But there is nothing between you guys?” I tried to ask as casually as I could, hoping he couldn’t hear the jealousy still laced within my words. I sipped my wine to try to hide the tension on my face as I waited for the answer.

He sipped his drink and walked over to the couch and motioned for me to follow as we both sat down. “There are some lines you just don’t cross. She’s a little too young for my tastes,” he said with a wink. “And vanilla. I tend to like things a lot darker than Layla is or at least I assume she is.” His eyes darkened and so much mystery seemed to lurk in the depths of them. “She lives in the pool house and is about as close to family as I have. So, no, I wouldn’t fuck a family member.”

Relief washed over me. I felt bad and even a bit ashamed for instantly hating a girl I had never met. The green-eyed monster had always been a weakness of mine, and I just hoped I had somehow managed to hide my feelings from Harley.

“You don’t have any family?” I asked as I settled against the leather that was almost as soft as butter.

“Assassins and family don’t mix.”

“Why?”

He chuckled. “Do I really need to answer that?”

My face heated. “I guess not. Good point.”

“So… Carla Alvarez,” he said calmly, “where do we go from here?”

His words were like a splash of cold water. I nearly choked on the wine that I had just sipped. “How do you know my real name?” I asked, stunned to hear that name that I hadn’t heard in so many years. I hated it. Carla Alvarez was dead. I’d killed her the minute I’d moved to New Orleans, and Harley was digging up her grave.

“I own Spiked Roses, remember. I have access to personnel records.”

I hadn’t seen smug on Harley Crow before, and it was about as sexy as the rest of his facial expressions.

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” I said softly.

“I understand that.”

“Just like you don’t go by the name you were born with,” I countered, feeling a bit violated that he knew this secret of mine.

“True,” he said with a nod as he crossed his leg casually over the other. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. I promise to never call you by that name or ever mention it to anyone if you tell me why you chose to change it to Marlowe Masters.”

I hadn’t told anyone about my name change before, and wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Picking up on my hesitation, Harley said, “Who’s Afraid of the Dark? I get to choose anything I want that could scare you, remember? As long as it isn’t on your list of hard limits. Asking about your past is not on your hard limits.”

“This has nothing to do with fear,” I defended.

“I disagree.”

I sighed deeply. I wanted to make sure he knew I was not pleased with the way the conversation was going. “I told you. Big dreams, shitty past. I didn’t want to be the daughter of a Mexican motorcycle gang leader any longer. I wanted a new start. I didn’t want to be the girl who grew up in a piece of shit town ruled by the gun trade and drugs. And you know what else?” I said as I paused to take a drink of wine. “I didn’t want to be Mexican anymore. I didn’t want to become my mother, or my sisters, or my other family members. I wanted to escape it all. My past, my heritage, my family. All of it. Marlowe Masters was as far away from Carla Alvarez as you could get.”

Harley appeared stunned by my confession. A little too stunned. From the way his eyes narrowed and the tilt of his head, he almost seemed as if he didn’t believe what I was telling him.

“Did someone tell you to tell me that? Your story?” His voice was even and steady, but all the casual and playful banter almost seemed to disappear. He stood up from the couch, walked toward the window, and turned to face me. “The motorcycle gang. What gang?”

“What are you talking about?” I didn’t understand why he was asking me this question. Why did he care? “Why would someone tell me to tell you this? My past? I didn’t want to tell you about my past. You made me.”

He shook his head, and a small smile seemed to be forced on his face. “Never mind. It just seems like an unbelievable story. Mexican motorcycle gang? Really?”

“Really,” I said, feeling a little defensive and still confused with the way he acted and the questions he asked.

“Your past world blends with mine. I just didn’t expect that to happen is all.”

“I work at Spiked Roses. Did you really expect for me to have some naïve, bright-eyed, normal past with a blue-collared father and a suburban housewife of a mother? The girls who work there have dark and checkered pasts. Not one of us have to make something up just to be interesting. Trust me.”

Walking back to the couch, he sat down and ran his hand over the side of my head, keeping it cupped in a warm and protective way. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you tell me that story if you didn’t want to.”

His eyes were staring deeply into mine, and his face was so close that I could feel his breath against my skin. He was so close. So close that if I moved in just a little bit, we would be kissing.

“I promise that I will never call you that name, nor bring it up again.”

And just like that, I was jelly in his hands once again. One touch. One kind word. Melted goo on his butter soft couch.

“I just want to change the subject. If that’s all right with you,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t take his hand off my head. It felt possessive, and I fantasized at that moment that I was his. I wanted the feeling to last.

“Fair enough,” he said, finally breaking his contact and sitting back as he sipped from his vodka. He was still close to me, but not nearly as close as I wanted him to be. “Let’s discuss this contract we signed.”

Heat radiated from my toes all the way to the top of my head. I knew my cheeks had to be a blazing red by how hot they felt. “Okay, the contract.” My words came out stronger than I truly felt inside which I at least was happy about.

“Are you really not afraid of the dark?” he asked, his eyes locking with mine.

“I guess we will soon find out.” Breathing seemed to become a struggle as my chest felt like it weighed a million pounds.

“RED,” he said. “All you have to do is say RED. But if I don’t hear that word, I won’t stop. I have to warn you, Marlowe.”

“Warn me about what?”

“I love the smell of fear. I get off on it. It makes my dick hard, and the more afraid you are, the more I will want to continue on. I plan to test you. Take you right to the edge of insanity. I want you to be so afraid, yet have me there with you while you are. What I have in mind this weekend, you will hate me for it afterwards.”

“I don’t scare easily,” I said, placing my empty wine glass on the nearby table. “And how can I hate you for doing what we both agreed to? I told you at Spiked Roses that I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that you believe that to be true. But I also think I will succeed in scaring you shitless. We have all weekend. Tonight will just be a taste of what’s to come.”

“Yes, we have all weekend.” I took hold of his glass and placed it next to mine. “Then shall we begin?” I asked, not being able to take it any longer. “Let’s see if you can break me.”

“Break you?” His eyes darkened and an almost snarl formed on his lips. “Did I just hear you say that?”

“Break me,” I repeated. “Can you?”

“Oh, trust me… I can.”

I could smell him so close. I’d had a small taste of how good his touches could be. But I wanted more. So much more.

Standing up, Harley lifted me from my seated position with more force than all his other tender touches before. Taking me by the hand, he silently led me to a door. It didn’t take long for me to see that it was his room when I saw the large four-poster master bed that dominated the center of the space.

I needed Harley Crow now. I had waited for this time for so long. I had lusted, I had hungered, and I had craved. It was time to finally stare that boogiemonster straight in the eye. I was not afraid of the dark one little bit. It was the opposite. He was the dark, and I wanted to be engulfed in it. Surrounded in it. Conquered by it.

Chapter Seven

Harley

You can’t rattle the cage of the animal and not expect to unleash the fury.

Marlowe claimed she didn’t scare easily, which only further fueled my desire to prove her wrong. Her exterior was hardened, protected—but I saw something else. I saw it in the way she swallowed hard, and the way her breathing hitched. There was fear there. Fear beneath the weak shield she held up. I could break her. I would fucking break her. She didn’t think so, but oh, how she was wrong. When I was done with her this weekend, she would see. She would see where dancing with the monster would lead her.

As we walked into my bedroom, I took her by the upper arms and slammed her against the wall without warning. The purpose wasn’t to hurt her, but to set the energy. No more small talk. No more peeking into our pasts. Now it was time to dive into the depths of what both of us kept locked inside.

Her brown eyes were wide, but not frightened. Startled. But startled didn’t fuel my fire. I wanted her to be afraid. She should be. If she knew. If she had any idea, she would have never signed that contract to be with me. She had no idea what I was capable of doing. What I could… and would… do to her.

There was a fine, jagged line between consensual and taking. It was a line I walked. I took. I demanded. But at the same time, the women of my past begged for more. They hungered for me as I did for them. A taste of the darkness addicted all who sampled.

“Remove your dress,” I ordered in a low and even tone. Calm. Always calm. The calmest waters were always the scariest. You never knew what creature lurked beneath.

I released her arms so she was no longer restricted. This is where I would see if she was truly what I craved. If I had read her correctly. Did the submissive nature that I longed to devour exist behind those dark eyes of hers?

The answer was yes. Without hesitation, and without shame, she reached for the black strap of her dress and lowered it down her shoulder and arm. She never broke eye contact as she repeated the step with the other strap. Lowering the fabric over her bare breasts, she held her gaze steady on mine. I didn’t want to break the stare, but I had no choice. I needed to see what was revealed as the black dress was peeled off her creamy skin. She took hold of the dress with both hands when it bunched at her hips and lowered it over the curve of her ass, exposing a black lace G-string. Allowing the dress to drop to the floor where it pooled at her bare feet, she took one step, then two out of it, kicking it to the side.

Fuck. Fucking beautiful. The most fucking stunning woman stood before me. Her firm breasts screamed out to me, demanding to be touched, licked, bit, and claimed as mine. And the soft swell of her stomach that blended with the hourglass shape of her hips. She was not stick and bones like so many women foolishly strived to be, and the luscious womanly curves she possessed turned me on more than any woman I had ever seen.

The pressure built at the base of my spine and jolted straight to my cock. She wasn’t afraid. She was in control. But I was not. I was fucking losing control as my lust and desire to be balls deep in her sweet pussy increased to an almost suffocating level.

I had to gain control. I had to take it back. I had no choice or she would eat me alive.

I placed my hand at her throat and squeezed. Not enough to cut off her air completely, but enough to restrict it. Her eyes widened again, and her lips parted with a soft strangled gasp, but she still showed no fear.

Fuck, why was there no fear?

I tightened my grip as I made sure her head was pressed firmly against the wall behind her. Looking down at her body in nothing but a thin G-string, I used my other hand to cup one breast, enjoying how it filled my hand. Marlowe remained motionless, which pleased me. She was waiting. Waiting for my command as what to do next; she understood her role.

I was the predator and she was the prey.

“Go sit on the bed,” I said in the same calm voice as before.

She waited until I released my hold on her throat and breast, and slowly walked over to the bed draped in a black and gray damask bedspread.

I unbuttoned my shirt slowly, staring at her as she walked to the bed. Her long black hair cascaded down her back over the tattoo that I was dying to know the story behind. The branches of the tree delicately curved around her shoulder blades, while the trunk of the tree ran down the entire length of her spine. The branches were nearly bare, with dead leaves dropping to where her ass met her back. It was a dead tree, yet so full of life. It screamed of a dark tale. A tale I wanted to be told. It wasn’t just a tattoo, but rather art. True and unbelievably talented art.

She sat at the edge of the bed and placed her hands in her lap as she watched me shed my clothing with hunger in her eyes. After I cast my shirt to the side, I walked over to a row of blood red candles I had on the nightstand and lit them. The moonlight shone through the large window in the room, but the moon alone without the candle’s blaze wouldn’t be enough light for my tastes. I wanted to see every delicious inch of her body. I wanted to see the spark of fear the minute it entered her brave eyes.

Marlowe said nothing as the wicks crackled beneath the flame. She remained still. So still.

The only thing she moved were her eyes as she watched my every move. And when the candlelight illuminated the room, I turned to find her studying my tattoos as I had studied hers. Tattoos are like body paint that warriors put on before battle. Marlowe and I were both warriors engaged in our own type of war.

I walked back toward her as I unbuckled my belt, slipping it from the loops of my pants in a swish. The action and sound drew Marlowe’s eyes to the belt, and then to my eyes in question as I took hold of the black leather and wrapped it around her neck.

And there it was…

The first flicker of fear as I fastened the belt and tightened it around her delicate throat. Again, it wasn’t enough to prevent her from breathing, but enough to force her to have to part her lips and inhale deeply, searching for whatever air she could. I held onto the belt and tugged it hard, snapping her head back so she had no choice but to look up at me. I needed to hear her voice. I needed to hear the submissive softness that I knew would be present. I needed to hear the quiver in her words that I knew the building fear inside of her would cause.

“Do you like pain, Marlowe?”

“Yes,” she said so low that had I not read the word on her lips, I wouldn’t have heard it.

I tugged the belt more, hoping she’d read my action and the stern look I gave her as a warning.

“Yes, sir,” she said more clearly which instantly pleased me.

Yes, that was all it would take. The look. She understood the look.

Her eyes glassed over as I ran my fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head possessively. “I know you do. Or at least you think you do. But you have no idea the type of pain I could deliver. I wouldn’t scar your body, but I would scar every inch of your insides. There would be nothing inside of you left untouched.”

A soft mewl escaped her lips and my cock surged in need. Jesus Christ, so submissive. She was so fucking submissive. I knew… but I didn’t know. Not like this. Not this intense. It shouldn’t be this intense. I was walking along a dangerous cliff. If I fell off, I would be undone. Marlowe Masters had the power to shove me off that cliff if I wasn’t careful.

She placed her fingertips at my waistband and looked up at me with questioning eyes. Yes, she was asking permission. Marlowe and I had already mastered the language of silence. We knew the looks, the way to speak without the words. She wanted to lower my pants but was waiting for my dictate to say it could happen first. Oh, she had the skill of an aged submissive, and we had the connection that a Dom and submissive spend years to develop. So fast, so powerful… but so fucking dangerous. The cliff. I had to remember I balanced precariously on the precipice.

I nodded my approval which was all it took for her tiny fingers to busily unbutton, unzip and shed me of my pants and underwear in effortless motions. I still held the belt firmly around her neck. It acted as the appetizer of what was still to come this night. A very small sampling of the main course.

When my pants came down and my cock popped out, free to stand hard against the still air of the room, I could feel her small puffs of breath upon it. She was so close. Her face so close. One thrust is all it would take to shove my dick past her pouty lips and rest against her wet tongue. This was an act I never insisted on. I never commanded it to happen. If they chose of their own free will, and their own desires to suck me off, then I gladly allowed it. But that was on them. I would not fuck their face without consent, just as I would not fuck their pussy without it.

But Marlowe clearly consented. Not asking. Not waiting to see what I would demand of her next, she took hold of my cock at the base and ran the tip of her tongue in a circle along the tip.

“Careful,” I warned. “I don’t allow teasing.”

“I don’t tease,” she said as she lowered her mouth over my cock in one long movement.

I groaned as her lips tightened around me as she practically swallowed me whole. My dick pressed deep against the back of her throat. I was not a small man, so the fact that she could almost take all of me showed her true desire to please. Up and down, she bobbed her head as she sucked my dick like she hungered for it. Like she needed it as much as I did. She wanted to do this. She wanted to hear my groans, my sounds of pleasure. A true submissive. She wanted to please me, and worship my cock. And fuck, did she ever. I could cum so easily. I could fill her mouth and she would swallow every last drop, or I could pull out and spray my completion all over her perky breasts, and she would no doubt moan in surrendered delight as I did so. I knew this about her. I could read it in how she moaned and hummed around my cock as she ran her tongue in delightful circles while pushing and pulling the cum right out of me.

But it was too soon. Too soon to cross over to that level of the dynamic.

No, first she had to take hold of my hand and enter the darkness. She was distracting. It was her way of running away, but I wouldn’t allow it. I would catch her.

I tightened the belt and pulled back, causing her to gasp around my cock that rested heavily in her mouth. I tugged again, and she whimpered as she pulled her lips away from their seductive hold. She wasn’t done. She didn’t want to end. But I had to. I had to stay focused. I almost went over that damn cliff.

“Not yet,” I said as I picked her up underneath her arms and brought her toward the top of the bed.

Her raven hair splayed out across the gray pillows as the candlelight danced shadows over her milky skin. It reminded me of a storm brewing with the grays and blacks and just a touch of light peeking through the clouds.

Fucking stunning.

I unfastened the belt around her neck, ready to move on to what I had in store next. I moved to the nightstand that the candles burned on and opened the drawer. I knew the tools I required for tonight’s play in the dark. They were all in that drawer.

“Roll over onto your belly,” I directed as I pulled each item I needed out and lined it all up for easy reach. “Face in the pillow. I don’t want you to see what comes next.”

I could hear her compliance by the sounds of her movements. I loved that she didn’t question or resist in any way. She really was making it easier than I had expected. Though I loved the hunt, I appreciated this so much more. I understood and valued what a true submissive could give. It was a gift she was offering to me, and I would gladly accept it.

My cock still demanded attention, but I ignored it the best I could as I positioned my body next to hers, admiring the roundness of her bare ass with nothing but the thin strap of her panties showing before me. Taking hold of an antique dagger I had pulled out of the drawer, I lifted the strap of her panties and sliced them right off her with the sharp edge of the knife.

She gasped, but said nothing.

I loved her silence, but she would only be able to remain silent for so long. She would be pleading soon. Begging. Making my cock grow with the smell of her fear. This was just the beginning. Only the beginning.

I tossed the knife to the side, knowing damn well that I would be using it again… soon. Snapping the lid open of the bottle of lube I reached for next, I coated my fingers in generous amounts. I saw the cheeks of her ass constrict as she no doubt recognized the sound of lube being opened and knew what that would mean. Marlowe may have been breathing easy again since the belt had been removed, but I was about to steal her breath even more than before.

Without warning, I brought my slick index finger to the puckered entrance of her anus and pressed in. She tightened around my finger and her entire body tensed, but she did not resist. She whimpered and clenched the bedspread, but allowed me to move my finger in and out as I coated her hole with the lube. Adding a second finger, she cried out, but I continued on with coating every inch and stretching her tight little hole. She tried to wiggle free from my invasion which I rewarded with a swift spank to her helpless ass. She was mine. Mine.

Her gasp, followed by a deep moan, revealed that she did indeed like the bite of pain with her pleasure. What a true gem she was.

“You’re going to thank me for the time I’m taking to prepare this ass of yours,” I said, rubbing the pink mark I had just caused with the slap, which had her moaning even more.

I didn’t need any further proof that she was enjoying the preparation and even the quick discipline warning, but I still wanted to see for myself. As I pumped my two fingers into her anus, I used my other hand to rub along the silken folds of her pussy. She was wet. So fucking wet. But I’d already known she would be.

“Harley,” she said on a whisper as I rubbed my finger along her pussy, petting her for good behavior. I liked my women wet and desperate for my touch, and for my dick to be shoved inside of them in whichever way I chose.

I was strict, but I rewarded as well.

She parted her thighs, silently begging for more. I reached down a little further under the weight of her hips and found her clit. The minute I did, she bucked against my hand, driving my fingers even deeper into her ass. She cried out, as I clearly stretched her even more, but she only bucked again, driving my fingers even further inside. Her arousal helped aid me in preparing her ass for what was to come, so I rewarded her again by circling her clit in sensuous movements again and again.

Moan after moan, her juices coated my hand. This vixen was mine. I had her. The balance of control had been set.

Pulling my fingers out of her ass, as well as off her clit, I was pleased to hear a sigh of disappointment escape Marlowe’s lips. But her short reprieve would be just that—short.

I reached for the nightstand and pulled off my next tool for the night. An anal hook. By appearance, this tool would make anyone afraid, and that was exactly the point.

“Open your eyes,” I said, when I noticed Marlowe had her eyes closed. There was a sweet look of contentment and satisfaction on her face, but I was ready to change that.

She followed my command and gasped with wide eyes when she saw what I held before her.

“What is that?” she asked with a squeak to her voice.

“Never seen an anal hook before?”

She licked her lips and swallowed hard. The steel, the size, the shape, and the large ball at the end, meant to be rooted in her ass, was definitely ominous. I didn’t blame her for her fear. An oversized fishing hook tool in the hand of a Dom would frighten any woman wise enough to know what that would mean.

I took a chain and attached it to a leather collar I planned on placing around her neck. The leather was wide, almost as wide as my hand. Much thicker and firmer than the belt I had choked her with before. Too tight with this collar, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. But that control would be completely in her hands. Completely.

“I don’t understand,” she said softly. “What is the purpose of that? What do you plan on doing?”

I inhaled deeply. Fuck yeah. She was afraid. Nervous, but definitely afraid.

“You’ll soon see,” I answered as I coated the end of the hook with the lubrication.

Not waiting for permission, because that was not the type of man I was, I placed the tip of the hook with the rounded ball at her anus and pushed in. It slid in as a loud husky moan filled the air of the room. Marlowe instantly tensed, but relaxed the minute the hook was fully seated into the depths of her ass. She clearly knew. Resistance would only make it worse.

I then grabbed the collar and leaned up toward her neck. Such an elegant neck it was. I suddenly wanted to kiss a trail along the angles of her shoulder, her collarbone, her earlobe… the cliff. The fucking cliff. Kissing was for couples. We were not a fucking couple. I had to once again focus on not falling off that damn cliff.

Taking a handful of her hair instead, I leaned down and whispered, “Ready to say RED yet?”

“Never,” she squeaked.

Releasing her hair, I fastened the leather collar around her neck, securing it snugly. I took the silver chain that hung loosely from a ring in the leather and fastened it to the anal hook. In doing so, it forced Marlowe’s head back. She had no choice but to arch her back and bend backwards.

She had two choices.

Lean forward to ease up on the choking.

Lean back to ease up on the pressure of the hook in her ass.

It truly was a lose-lose situation.

And if she struggled, if she fought, if she didn’t focus on finding the perfect balance where she could still breathe, and still bear the pain of the hook in her stretched bottom hole, she would definitely be screaming RED.

But not Marlowe Masters.

Not her.

I could see how she rocked and moved her body ever so slightly to find that balance. She calmly searched for a position to be comfortable. She took long even breaths when she could. She adjusted her hips to help with the pressure of the hook. She never cried out for help. She didn’t panic. She didn’t beg.

No.

She adapted. She met the darkness head on.

I’d underestimated her. Marlowe Masters—unlike any woman I had ever met—clearly understood how to dance in the darkness.

Chapter Eight

Marlowe

A vision so dark, I watched myself drift away.

To the edge…

I couldn’t breathe, yet I could.

I panicked, yet I remained calm.

I ran from the monster of fear, yet I faced him head on.

To the edge…

Harley Crow guided me to the edge.

I rested my head on his shoulder of black and accepted.

He was my dark. He was my light.

He can’t see me, but I see him.

I hear him, I smell him, I taste him, I feel him.

The senses of sin.

To the edge.

“Breathe,” I heard him say, pulling me away from the dark abyss.

Inhaling, I did as he commanded. The light returned.

“Can you breathe?” he asked as he traced his fingertips along the design of my tattoo.

I wasn’t sure if I had enough air to speak. I could breathe, but the struggle to do so was ever present as the leather of the collar constricted my ability to fill my lungs as I normally would.

Harley pressed my head forward which tugged at the hook in my ass. Doing so, however, gave me all the air I needed to say, “Yes.” I took a long, refreshing breath that soothed my burning lungs. “Yes, sir.”

“If you allow that hook to stretch that tight little hole of yours more, then you can breathe so much easier. It’s a balance of control. A wicked game of give and take.”

His fingertips left my back and traced their way along the curve of my ass, and dipped to my sex.

A bolt of electricity surged through me when he went even further and thrust his finger into my pussy that so desperately wanted any type of invasion whatsoever. It hungered for the attention.

“Fear makes you wet,” he said as he thrust his finger in and out of me.

“No.”

“Your body disagrees.”

“You make me wet,” I unashamedly admitted.

He added a second finger and continued with his thrusting. It was no longer the collar or the anal hook stealing my breath. Harley had the power all by himself.

“Do I scare you?” he asked as he reached for a candle and brought it toward me.

“No,” I whispered, focusing on trying to remain as still as possible. As long as I didn’t move too far in one direction or the other, I could breathe, and I didn’t cause too much discomfort to my penetrated ass.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw that same devilish smirk that always sent a delightful shiver through me.

“Not yet,” he said as he held the candle over my shoulder, “but soon.”

Tilting the burning flame slightly, Harley dripped the red wax onto my shoulder. Tiny droplets of red wax ran along my skin and dripped down my back and over my collarbone. He continued to pour the wax along my back, swiping from side to side across my body, leaving a stream of hot liquid behind. The candle wax burned for an instant as it connected with my skin, but then quickly dissipated as it hardened. I couldn’t flinch, because the slightest move restricted my breathing or applied pressure in my asshole that would restrict my breathing in its own torturous way.

“Red to add to the black ink of your tree,” Harley said as I felt wax drip along the outline of the tattoo.

My body ached from the intense arch I was forced to hold, as well as the agonizing need to feel another part of me filled. My pussy pulsated in hunger. I had never craved as badly as I did right now. There was absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. I was at his mercy in every possible way.

Placing the candle on the table, Harley reached for a knife. I assumed it was the same one he’d used to cut my panties off of me earlier. He brought the tip of the blade to where he’d first poured the wax on my shoulder, and slowly scraped the red from my flesh.

So sharp.

So deadly.

So close.

A killer. Harley Crow was a known killer, and he held a blade inches from my throat.

“Are you afraid?” he asked as he scraped the metal along my flesh, removing the wax from my sensitive skin as he did so.

“Yes,” I admitted.

I was fucking terrified. Knives, death, killing, torture. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

“RED?”

“No.” Why? Why wouldn’t I stop this?

The blade dipped down along my collarbone, forcing me to stay as still as I could. The tip of the dagger edged its way along the path of the wax, scratching off the candle drippings, but leaving a trail of sensory overload in its wake.

“No?” he asked as he continued to drag the blade over my back, side to side, down my spine, along my ribs, like he had just done with the wax.

Every time the tip of the knife ran over a bump of my spine, chills blended with the heat of my growing need. I pictured red lines of barely-there cuts as well as remnants of wax crisscrossing my back as if I had been whipped for my indiscretions. Marks of my darkness, signs of my need for exactly this kind of sex. This was everything I needed and wanted. Harley knew exactly how to make my body sing a forbidden melody.

So wrong.

So right.

So perfectly us.

I screamed when he hit the blade of the knife against the steel of the anal hook. The vibrating impact rippled through me. It lit every nerve inside my core. It hurt so good. Being the sadist I knew he could be, he did it again and again. My scream turned to moans of delightful agony. Agony to have my torture end by Harley fucking me as hard as he could in whatever hole of my body he chose.

“RED?” he asked again as if teasing me to scream the word as loudly as I could against the restricting collar that squeezed all the spare breath I possessed.

He was pushing my limits. He wanted to see how far I would go. I would go as far as he took me.

“No,” I repeated.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes, but only so you will—”

He tapped the hook again, causing me to cry out in intoxicating pain.

“So I will? What? Fuck you?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled in the sexiest, yet most maniacal of ways. “You’ve done so well,” he praised as he tapped the hook one last time before slowly removing it from where it had held me captive. “But there is still time for me to have you screaming out the word RED. And I will. I promise you, I will.”

I sighed as I allowed my head to collapse to the pillow beneath me. My neck burned from the stretch, as did my tiny bottom hole. I heard the heavy clank of metal hit the floor as Harley took hold of the chain and then the collar. Effortlessly, he unfastened the constricting collar and flipped me over so I was lying flat on my back. He towered over me with eyes so dark, so cryptic.

Harley wasn’t done. I could see that. His thirst was far from quenched.

* * *

Harley

Her smell. Intoxicating.

Fear, arousal, and need dripped from her pussy, and she conquered my senses. I wanted to feast from her. I needed it like I needed air.

I placed my fingers on her inner thighs and spread her wide. I noticed scars. Thin and faint, but obviously painful scars. Lines of a blade over and over. Old cuts from deep wounds.

Tracing my fingers over the remnants of the pain, I asked, “You cut yourself?”

“I did,” she said softly, trying to close her legs in shame, which I refused to let happen by holding her open to examine each inch of her damaged skin. “Not anymore.”

“Do you have scars on your heart as well?”

“Not yet.”

Feeling the uncontrollable need to touch, to taste the remnants of a deep pain of hers, I ran the tip of my tongue along each jagged line of a sad tale. Marlowe tensed, but didn’t try to fight me. Her breaths grew deep as if I were soothing a part of her soul with each gentle lick.

Not being able to resist the need to feast on her any longer, I lowered my face closer to her cunt, which glistened back at me, and inhaled as deeply as I could. Her thighs tried to snap shut, but I held them in place, breathing in again before I licked at the moisture I could see lining her pink lips. Her body tensed, but the sexual whimper I heard above me revealed I was giving her exactly what she wanted. But I didn’t care what she wanted. It was about what I wanted. And I wanted her. I wanted to taste every inch of this wet pussy. I wanted it all. It was mine.

I licked.

I lapped.

I devoured.

I ate that pussy of hers like a ravenous animal

But the warning bells returned. The cliff. I was falling off the cliff.

Taking hold of my knife again, I placed the weight of it on her bare mound. She froze and her breathing hitched.

“I advise you to stay very still,” I warned.

She said nothing, and did exactly that. Even her breathing seemed to cease.

But as I ran the tip of the blade along her delicate sweet folds, I watched as the juices escaped her.

“Dirty girl,” I said, as I pressed a little harder. “Dark and filthy girl.”

The harder I pressed, the wetter she got.

“Yes. Yes,” she moaned.

I lowered the blade to her taint and pressed against it enough to hear her cry out, yet she continued to remain completely still. Such a good submissive she was. Or had we crossed over, and she was now my captive—too scared to move?

Moving the blade back up her pussy, I ran a trail up over her mound, to her belly, her breasts, and to her throat. I followed the blade to where I was lying on top of her, bearing most of my weight on my arm not holding the knife.

I pressed the tip of metal to her jugular and asked, “Do you want me to fuck you?” Placing the knife down, I reached for my last tool for the night, and opened the condom with my teeth.

Her eyes were wide as she widened her legs further, wrapping them around me, pulling me down to her. Tentatively she placed her hands on my back, connecting us further.

“Say the words,” I commanded as I placed the condom on my dick.

“Fuck me,” she said. “Please.”

Falling off the fucking cliff, I shoved into her in one swift movement. I didn’t ease in. I didn’t allow her to adjust to my size. I fucking loved the sound of her cries as I stretched that tight little pussy of hers.

Her nails dug into my back, which I allowed. I would take pain as I gave. I would grant permission for her to claw in desperation as I tore her to shreds with my girth as I fucked in and out of her in aggressive and dominating thrusts. Not gentle. Hard.

She had rattled the cage. She had unleashed the beast.

I took in her scent as I bit her neck, nibbling against her silky flesh. Rather than fighting, she bent her neck more, giving me better access. Her black hair lay wildly around us, and I could smell her shampoo.

“Harley,” she moaned, which made me fuck her even harder.

Yes, she would remember that name. She would remember that name as someone to fear. Be afraid. Be afraid of the dark.

And as her cries blended with moans, I mastered her completely. I felt her orgasm tighten around me and heard her screams of pleasure.

But I didn’t care. I was falling, plummeting from the edge with nothing to cling to. And with one final thrust and a primal groan of my own, I came crashing down on the jagged rocks below.

Whether I wanted to or not, I fell. Marlowe Masters had shoved me off that damn cliff.

Chapter Nine

Marlowe

When I exited the bathroom, I wasn’t exactly surprised to not find Harley lying tangled in the crumpled sheets waiting for my return so we could have post sex cuddling. I didn’t expect him to be the type, and it wasn’t like I ever cuddled after sex play from a Tasting anyway. Cuddling was for couples, and we were far from a couple. Though if I were honest with myself, I would have gladly curled up against his hard body and laid my head on his ink-covered chest if he had been there in that empty bed waiting for me.

Expecting to find him in the living room sipping on vodka, I was surprised to see an empty and dimly lit room. Not seeing any other part of the house, I was hesitant to walk around an unknown place in search of him. Who knew what secrets I could unveil by opening a door, and knowing Harley, it was a safe bet there would be many secrets in his hidden swamp estate.

Padding barefoot in nothing but a black negligee that I had packed in the hopes that it would appeal to Harley’s tastes, I walked down a small hallway that led to the kitchen. It was too dark to really make out the details of the room fully, but like the rest of the house, I could see granite counters completely void of any clutter. Copper pots hung over the stove and either they were scrubbed by an expert dishwasher or had never been used because they gleamed and sparkled against the moonlight that shone through the large windows over the sink.

Not seeing Harley, I continued on until I saw a swinging door that opened to a screened porch. Large pillowed chairs and tables were scattered along the porch, but in the far corner, Harley stood with his back toward me. His firm bare ass and muscled back were all I saw, and a renewed desire formed inside of me. Completely naked, he seemed oblivious to the fact that I was there as he stared out upon a large cypress tree with Spanish moss drooping over the calm waters of the bayou. The cool air from earlier during the boat ride had dissipated to a heavy thickness. Humid like most Louisiana nights, I still got a shiver as he gazed over his shoulder at me with intense eyes and a slight smirk from lips I craved to feel against mine.

“Nice view,” I said as I walked toward him.

He returned his stare to the scenery and nodded. “I’ve traveled a large part of the world, but there is something about the bayou that calls to me. I knew I had to make this place home.”

“I wasn’t talking about that view,” I admitted huskily as I ran my palm along the curve of his ass, surprising myself with my boldness.

Harley spun around and took hold of my hips, pulling me to him. His hardness pressed up against my frame, and I couldn’t conceal the smile of victory of being able to elicit a reaction so quickly and from just a simple caress.

Raising the black satin of my negligee up, he exposed my bare bottom half, and I moaned in anticipation of what was to come. My nipples hardened against the nightie, revealing my painful need for more than just a touch on the hips.

“Do I really not scare you at all?” he growled into my ear as he followed it with a nip to my lobe. “Not at all?”

“Why would I be scared of you?”

“I kill people for a living. That usually scares people.”

“Do you plan on killing me?” I asked as I arched my head to the side as he kissed a trail of electric touches along the length of my outstretched neck.

“Is it smart to trust me if I say no?”

Lifting the satin fabric even higher, he positioned his thick cock to where it pressed against my pussy, still sore in the most delightful of ways from earlier, but even hungrier than before. His hand moved from where it firmly held my hip and slid to the crux of my ass and squeezed. I stood up on tiptoe, hoping to get his cock closer to my needy hole. I wanted him inside of me again, and I had no shame in feeling so. When the tip of his cock brushed against my clit, I gasped while I thrust my hands into the thickness of his hair.

The man had mercy on me because he dipped his fingers between the folds of my sex and pressed his finger inside of me with enough force that I nearly felt as if I would be completely lifted from the ground. Like a puppet master, he controlled my body with every thrusting move of his finger, adding a second one before I could even process the full impact of the first one.

“This cunt’s wet for me,” he said as he drove his finger in as far as he could possibly go.

I nodded my head as my eyes rolled back and my mouth opened on a moan that remained locked inside. I liked being this wet. I wanted him to feel how much he turned me on. I wanted my juices to coat his entire hand so there would be no doubt how much I wanted this man.

Pulling out of my pussy, he wrapped his arm around my body and pressed up against my anus with his coated finger from behind. I hissed as his finger pushed into my hole that was still extremely sensitive from the anal hook that had pulled my flesh to near agonizing yet tantalizing levels.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he drove his finger into my tight channel. “Still sore from the hook?”

“Yes,” I purred, driving my pussy back against his cock, hoping he would replace the fingers that had been in my pussy with his dick.

“But you like pain.” He added the second wet finger inside my tight hole and scissored them enough to stretch my punished puckered entrance to where I couldn’t help but tense and press my face to his chest.

“Yes! Yes!” My cries were muffled against the warmth of his chest as he continued to press and manipulate his fingers in my ass. The biting sting forced the moan of desire from my lips.

“Can you cum from my fingers fucking your ass?”

No, of course not. But my body disagreed. A building sensation from deep in my ass worked its way to the surface. Was it possible to orgasm from anal play? I certainly hadn’t experienced anything of the sort, but as the most taboo explosion bubbled to the surface with every movement of Harley’s fingers, I knew that I was about to experience just that. Harley rubbed the head of his dick all around my clit only heightening the sensation in my body more.

Delving his fingers deeper into my ass and then pressing just the tip of his cock into my pussy, I shuddered around his digits and mewled in foreign rapture as my body nearly collapsed against his.

“My dirty girl,” he growled into my ear as he removed his cock even though I wanted its entire length buried inside of me. He also removed his fingers, which had me moaning even more.

I could barely stand as my legs wobbled beneath me. I was relieved when Harley took hold of my shoulders and pushed me down to kneel on the ground. I knew what he wanted, and knew what was expected of me the minute my eyes stared directly at his hardened cock. Not needing any prodding or dominant command, I took hold of his shaft, brought its large girth to my mouth, and took one long lick from the base to the head. The coolness of the tile beneath my knees helped ground me to the heated desire that still pulsated inside my pussy and ass. It was my turn to give this man the same pleasure he’d just given me. I liked sucking a man off. There was a certain power it gave me. I loved the sound of a man moaning and gasping from a swipe of my tongue. But with Mr. Harley Crow, I wanted to make the man howl like the beast I knew him to be.

I liked the feeling of having him tower over me, but I wanted full control to be able to suck and lick at whatever angle I chose. So without asking, I stood and pressed against his shoulders until he took the few steps backwards to the corner of the porch where a wicker chair meant for reading in the warm days while listening to the frogs croak and cranes call out to their mates sat waiting. Tonight, however, that worn chair would be used as Harley’s throne while I knelt at his feet and became his servant. It pleased me to see that Harley offered no resistance, though, as I glanced down at his dick standing at attention, I knew not to push my limits by making the man wait any longer.

Positioning my body—kneeling between his legs—I took hold of his cock and guided it to my lips. Looking up into his hooded eyes, I lowered my mouth all the way down, licking a delicious trail as I did so. The first moan of many to come escaped his lips as his eyes closed and his head tilted back in sexual gratification. Up and down, I worked my mouth on his huge mass, driving him deeper into the back of my throat each time I did so. The lower I went, the more he moaned. Yes, my king liked the tightness and pressure of my throat as I masterfully controlled the urge to gag or choke as I deep throated his cock. I was a good servant, and he would see that as I continued to swirl my tongue around the vein that ran along the back of his shaft. Glancing up to his face to make sure I saw nothing but pure bliss, I pulled his cock out of my mouth so that I could lick and blow lightly along the slickened surface. His breath hitched and his abs tightened as I ran my tongue up and down his entire length, pausing every so often to exhale my hot breath against his flesh.

“Fuck,” he hissed as his dick involuntarily jerked. “So fucking good.”

I smiled in satisfaction as I lowered my mouth back over his cock and moaned. The vibration of my deep deliverance against his hardness caused him to join me with a low and guttural moan of his own. I had him. The control was mine. And as I began to raise and lower my head at a quicker rate, I knew I’d taste his seed in mere moments. Taking a hold of the base of his shaft, I bobbed my head up and down in a rhythmic and increasing speed as his body tensed.

With a roar that filled the screened-in porch and blended with the sounds of the wild outside, Harley came in my mouth. The salty thickness as his dick flexed heavily against my tongue, filled me with my own satisfaction. And as I swallowed every last drop, Harley’s fingers laced in my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. I rested my cheek on the inside of his thigh, inhaling deeply as the intoxicating scent of Harley’s pleasure filled my soul.

Chapter Ten

Marlowe

I often wake up in different environments like a hotel or another man’s bedroom with a start. A bolt of fright surges through me for a split second as I come to the realization of where I am. I’ve always hated the unease of waking in a foreign bed, and especially if I woke up next to a man I barely knew. But this morning was different. There was no jolt of anything but contentment. I’d actually had an amazing sleep and woke with a sense of peace that I couldn’t remember feeling in a long time, if ever. The sunlight cast its early morning rays through the large bay window that overlooked the bayou. The abundant trees, lush ferns, pussy willows, and Spanish moss draped over most of Mother Nature in a protective embrace, painting the perfect picture. One could lie in bed in these soft cotton sheets all day staring out the window at the swampy beauty. So much light in Harley’s airy room for such a dark man.

Rolling over onto my back as slowly as I could in order not to wake Harley, that familiar bolt of fright attacked when I discovered him not lying in the bed beside me. It went away, however, when I saw a handwritten note on the pillow where he had once slept.

I left to pick up some beignets for breakfast. Coffee is in the kitchen. Help yourself to anything while I’m gone. I’ll hurry back.

~Harley

I must have been exhausted to have slept through him sneaking out of bed and starting the boat to leave. I normally woke at the tiniest noise. I looked at the note again. I liked his handwriting. And I liked the fact that he was worried about feeding me and giving me caffeine in the morning. It made him more human. Not the big bad boogiemonster one would think when hearing the name Harley Crow. And what would that same one think of me knowing what I’d done with the man last night?

Wild. Insane. Hot as fuck. Everything was so new, so wrong, but so incredibly right.

Who’s Afraid of the Dark?

Not me. Definitely not me.

We still had two more days per the contract, and I had no idea how Harley could top last night, but I was pretty sure he would. That man… now that I’d had my fix, I was sure I would become a full-fledged junkie. I wanted more. I wanted so much more.

Deciding that I should try to clean up and be presentable by the time he returned with breakfast, I slowly climbed out of bed. My body still hummed in fading pleasure, though I ached in places as well. Yet, the dull throb only made me crave for it to intensify again.

But first, it was time to start the day. I needed coffee before hopping in the shower and realized my sexy black nightie wasn’t exactly appropriate for anyone’s eyes but Harley’s. There was a possibility of running into Layla. Maybe she didn’t have a kitchen of her own in the guesthouse. I wasn’t exactly ashamed of my body or what I’m sure Layla knew we had done last night, but I still wanted to be more respectful in the morning light. I also didn’t want to be that girl who just assumed I could take a shirt out of Harley’s closet to wear, but I didn’t really have a choice. He had said to help myself to anything.

Padding barefoot against the cool tiled floor to the double door walk-in closet, I decided I wouldn’t poke around too much. Find a simple tee shirt and close it up. I refused to snoop even though Harley had practically handed the opportunity to do so over to me. I wondered what was inside all those drawers of his. More toys and implements like he had used last night? Did he have an arsenal of weapons he would use on women, just like I’m sure he had an arsenal of weapons stashed away all over his home to kill?

When I opened the closet, I smiled widely. For some reason, I had actually expected to see what I saw before me. Black. I would have the choice of a black shirt, or a black shirt to wear. And if I didn’t like the black shirt, I could pick another black shirt. Every item of clothing was also perfectly ironed. Not a single wrinkle in the fabric. Each shirt hung in a nice little organized row on wooden hangers. Even his shoes—black shoes—were lined up in a perfect uniform row. Nothing was messy. Not a speck of dust in the far corners of the closet. Not a cobweb to be found. This man kept an impeccable closet. Who in the hell kept an impeccable closet?

Trying to not overanalyze why Harley was clearly such a clean freak, I pulled one of the shirts over my head and walked out of his room. A steaming mug of coffee was calling my name, though I practically felt high on life. I hadn’t been this content and happy in so long—

Oh my fucking God!

Stepping into the living room was like being punched in the gut. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t do anything but stare in disbelief.

Layla was lying face down in a pool of blood. Her blood! Oh my God! Oh God. She was dead! She was fucking dead! I couldn’t see her face. I didn’t want to see her face. Thank God I couldn’t see her face.

Panic set in, though I still stood frozen in place. I couldn’t stop looking at her. Layla! Layla! She was dead in Harley Crow’s house!

What was I going to do?

“Harley!” I managed to scream, though my voice didn’t match the intense ringing in my ears. My vision tunneled and my heart thumped so hard against my chest it actually hurt. “Harley!” I screamed louder this time.

Wait, he was gone. He’d left!

Who did this? Who killed Layla? Oh that poor woman!

Do I call the police? Do I run?

I took a cautious step toward Layla’s bloody, limp body and examined it for any signs of life. There was so much blood. So much blood! I couldn’t see anything or where her wound even started. Was her head bashed in? Was her throat sliced open? I couldn’t tell because of all the blood.

I glanced at the front door but remembered that the only way to leave was by boat. Harley had the boat. There were other boats but where were the keys? His house was safe, he had said. Only one way on and off the property. It was safe! No! It wasn’t safe! Layla was dead!

“Harley!” I screamed again, though I had no reason why. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there…

Hysteria washed over me like an ocean wave tossing my nearly drowned body to shore, but not before dragging me along the coral studded reefs, shredding my flesh to pieces.

“Harley’s not here, bitch,” came a deep man’s voice from my right.

Before I could comprehend what was going on, two masked men in all black rushed toward me. The bigger of the two grabbed me by the neck and threw me back against the wall.

“Where is he?” the man asked. His breath smelled of cigarettes and coffee. He had blue eyes. That was all I saw other than black. A black mask inches from my face.

I tried to shake my head, but his grip only squeezed more. “I don’t know,” I squeaked out.

“Don’t lie to me,” the man said, pressing me harder against the wall.

“He left to get breakfast. I woke and found a note.”

It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. He was going to kill me. I would suffocate and be left for dead right beside Layla.

The man didn’t say anything to me, but waited as if I would have something more to say.

“Fuck it,” the other man said from behind my attacker. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll get Harley Crow another time.”

The grip around my neck weakened, and a shred of hope filled my core that I may actually get out of this situation alive. They had masks on. I wouldn’t be able to identify them. Maybe they would allow me to live.

“Take her with us,” the man from behind added. “Nothing will piss off Harley more than kidnapping his woman.”

No, no, no, no, no.

“I’m not his girl,” I said quickly, only being rewarded with the grip of my neck tightening once again.

“Shut up, bitch,” the blue-eyed man demanded.

He was angry. I didn’t want him to be angry. But they had to know I wasn’t Harley’s girlfriend.

“We’ve been watching you since last night. We followed you here. We saw what you did. Don’t fucking lie to us.”

“I’m nobody to him,” I wheezed out. “It was only last night. One night.”

The man took me by the throat and banged my head against the wall in warning. It wasn’t hard enough to knock me out, but it certainly got my attention. “I said shut the fuck up.”

“Here, use this rope and tie her up.”

The man spun me around and pulled my arms forcibly behind my back. The rope scraped against my skin as he weaved and looped it around my hands.

“Please,” I begged. “I swear I’m not Harley’s girlfriend. We just had sex once last night. He won’t care about me. Just let me go, and I won’t say a word. I’ll leave. I didn’t see you. All I see are masks.” I said the words so fast, like rapid gunfire, in the hopes that I could get them out before he would force me to be silent again.

A metal gun was placed at my temple. “Say another word, bitch, and I will add your body to the pretty young thing over there on the floor.” When the rope was knotted and securely fastened around my wrists, I was spun around to face both men. “Harley fucked with the wrong men this time, and he’s going to pay.”

I didn’t say anything even though I wanted to somehow make them see reason. I wasn’t Harley’s girlfriend. I had nothing to do with him or what he did to others. I was only a woman who lusted over a bad boy. A bad boy who was about to get me killed.

They guided me toward the front door, not avoiding the pool of Layla’s blood as they did so. I had no choice but to walk through it. The sticky wetness oozed between my toes, and nausea took hold. I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat, and though the man’s hand was no longer around my throat, I couldn’t breathe. My legs threatened to buckle, but the thought of falling scared me. I didn’t think the men would have any patience for my weakness.

“We’re leaving bloody footprints all over the entryway,” one man said.

“Good. Let that asshole come home to find we killed one of his women and kidnapped the other. It will be our welcome home sign.”

Harley’s clean house. They’d ruined his perfectly clean floor. The funny thing out of all this, is that the bloody footprints may upset him more than me being kidnapped. How could I get that through to these men? I was not Harley’s woman. I wasn’t the right person to be used as a bargaining chip. They’d fucked up when they’d killed Layla—poor Layla. She would have worked, but not me. Not me!

The bright morning sunrays forced me to squint as the men pushed me out the front door and down the stairs. The wooden planks of the dock heated the bottoms of my feet even though I shook from head to toe.

In desperation, I listened for the sound of a boat engine approaching.

Please come. Please have Harley pull up with those beignets.

I squinted in the direction I remembered we had come from last night.

Nothing.

Nothing.

As the men forced me into a speedboat of their own, I knew I was doomed.

I remembered when I was a little girl, my father had told me to never get in a car with a man if someone was trying to kidnap me. He’d told me to scream “rape” and to fight with everything I had. He’d told me to not fear being killed right there, because if I got in that car, I would be dead anyway. But only after they raped and tortured me. My chances would always be better fighting rather than getting into the car.

So here I was… not listening to my father and climbing into the boat without a fight. But even if I screamed “rape”, who would hear me? Plus, my hands were tied behind my back, and one of the men had a gun still pointed at me.

What advice would my father give me now?

The man pushed me down to the floorboards of the boat out of sight from anyone who would pass us on the waters. When I sat balled up against the dirty metal hull, he reached for a long black scarf and tied it around my eyes. As he tied the knot too tight behind my head, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There was nothing I could do. I had to just allow the darkness from the scarf to calm my panicked thoughts. My only hope was that my captors wouldn’t do what my father had said bad guys would do. I had to pray they wouldn’t rape and torture me.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

When they soon realized that Harley had no intention of coming after me to seek revenge, they would see that I am not Harley’s woman. I am not his woman!

I had to hope. I had to hope that these men, hell-bent on hurting the notorious Harley Crow, would soon realize I was not a player in this twisted game. Although, I now had to play the game. I had to play along and be a good girl. Do not make them angry. Do not make them angry.

“Drink this,” one of the men ordered as he pushed a plastic bottle to my lips forcing them open.

I did as he commanded and swallowed the water that I knew was mixed with something. It tasted tangy and chalky. I didn’t think it was poison. That would be too easy. I knew my death would not be as easy as drinking poisoned water. When I was done, I heard him toss the empty container to the side. I then felt him pull something over my head.

“I don’t need to wear this anymore,” he said. “My mask will help keep that blindfold on your face. We don’t want you peeking, now do we?”

There was silence, and I only sat as still as I could. I couldn’t see anything, and the mask was so thick that it made it hard to breathe in the muggy bayou air. I could smell the man on the fabric. Revolting. Stale, musky, dirty, and damp with his sweat.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Marlowe,” I answered softly. Yes, I would be that good girl. I had to convince them not to hurt me.

As the engine started and vibrated beneath where I sat curled in a scared tiny ball, I did wonder what Harley would do when he walked into his house to find Layla dead and bloody footprints all over his living room.

Would he call the police? Most likely no. His kind did not involve authorities.

Would he come after me? Maybe he would—out of pride alone—but there was no way he would even know where to look for me. He’d said himself last night that he had a lot of enemies. How would he know which enemy had kidnapped me?

My body grew weary and my mind fogged over. I needed sleep. Sleep…

My father had warned me. He’d always said to never get into the car with the bad guys. And that is what I’d done. I’d gotten into the car last night outside of Spiked Roses with Harley Crow—the baddest guy of all—and now I would die because of it.

Chapter Eleven

Marlowe

“Are you scared?”

Those were the first words I heard as I regained consciousness. I couldn’t see. I was in the dark as a thick and suffocating fabric covered my eyes and face. I remembered the man’s mask being put on me while in the boat. I couldn’t move. My hands were still tied behind my back, and my feet secured to the legs of the chair I sat on. I had been kidnapped, and now strapped to a chair like I was in the middle of a horror movie.

“Marlowe? I know you can hear me, Marlowe.” The voice was deep, calm, yet the evil laced throughout sent a small shiver up my spine. “I asked you if you were scared.”

The voice chuckled. Maniacal. Depraved. I pulled against my restraints to no avail. I couldn’t feel my fingertips, and my feet were losing feeling fast.

“Did Harley Crow teach you how to play possum? He teaches all his women to play possum, but I have always been able to break them. Each and every single one of those weak women. And you, my dear Marlowe, will break as well.”

I swallowed back my terror. Who was this man? What the hell was he talking about? Breaking other women? He knew my name. His voice was different than the men who had kidnapped me. There was an underlying accent that I couldn’t quite pinpoint—maybe Russian?

I couldn’t see the man. Was he in front of me? My head was still foggy, but I knew I was someplace else besides the floor of a dirty boat, and now I was no longer just kidnapped by two killers; I was a hostage. This man would use me. He had what he thought was one of Harley’s women, and with that, came power.

“You don’t have to say anything, my dear Marlowe. I don’t need a solitary word out of you to get what I want. I won’t need your words. I will simply need your screams.”

I heard footsteps walk up behind me, and the mask over my head was removed, pulling off the blindfold at the same time. I blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights as I attempted to take in my surroundings. It was a white room—white walls, and white tile floors. Nothing was in the room except for a large mirror that took up most of the wall in front of where I sat. A large metal door was to my right and nothing else. No windows, no furniture other than the chair I sat on. Staring at my reflection, I saw a man standing behind me with the mask and blindfold in his hand. He stared ahead, emotionless, at attention like the most stoic of military soldiers. He wore black pants, black boots, a black shirt that revealed tattoos covering every inch of his arms. Black, thick ink of some ancient tribal design ran from his biceps to the tops of his hands. He seemed robotic, so still I couldn’t tell if he was even breathing. His eyes did not stare at me, but rather he stared straight ahead into the large mirror as if he could see right through it. He towered over me, over my tiny frame tied helplessly to a metal chair.

“Welcome to your new home, Marlowe,” the voice said from a speaker I could not see. It appeared to be coming from behind the mirror. The man behind me was not the voice. No, the voice was hidden behind the mirror like a coward.

I took a deep breath, trying hard to conceal my fear. I did not want them to see my growing panic. I think it was what they wanted to see. They wanted me to scream and cry. Something deep inside of me whispered to stay calm. Stay calm.

Stay fucking calm!

“Let’s begin with introductions, shall we?” the voice began. “My name is Lukas Knox, enemy to your lover Harley Crow, but I assume you already know that. And that monster standing behind you is Sadist.”

I stole another quick glance at the man who still remained frozen. It was as if he could not hear that he had just been called a monster. Maybe he didn’t care. Or maybe he was indeed a monster. Was his name really Sadist? Why would he call himself that? Fuck! Where the fuck was I? Fuck! Where was Harley? Where the fuck was Harley?

I stared back into the mirror, noticing that there was a different sort of glare coming from the reflection. Though I could not see Lukas behind the glass, the radiance of a dull light told me he was there.

“Go ahead and look at him. I know you want to. Look at those hands that could snap your neck at my command.”

Not being able to resist the urge, I moved my eyes ever so slightly to more clearly see how the man looked. I saw no reaction from the man called Sadist. Lukas’s words did not impact him at all. He remained in position. He stared. He stood ready for command.

“Sadist will be your guard. He will be your Master. He will be your everything until we decide what to do with you. But are you curious about what happens to you while we decide your fate?”

I remained silent, continuing to stare ahead. I will not break. I will not break. I will not break. If I chanted the words enough in my head, I could make them true. This is what I was praying would help. I would not break!

“Oh, Marlowe. You are a willful one. Though Sadist here will eventually beat that stubborn pride right out of you. But for now, I will go ahead and tell you. If you look on top of the mirror, you will see a video camera.”

I glanced up and saw a camera pointed at me. The red light was on. I looked toward the corner of the room to my right, then my left, and saw two other cameras which also appeared to be on.

“You are on video for all to see—or at least for who we want to see you. But more importantly for Harley Crow to see. I will have demands of Mr. Crow. If he chooses not to acquiesce to my demands, his poor woman will suffer the consequences before his very eyes. And if he meets all my demands, and you don’t provoke Sadist here to kill you with his bare hands, then you may be returned to the outside world alive. Maybe.” Lukas released another wicked laugh. “But most likely not. Though I promise you, that if Harley is as stubborn as I think he is, and you have suffered the hand of Sadist because of his foolish actions, you will beg me to kill you. I will simply be giving you mercy.”

My heart thumped against my chest as the reality of his words sunk in. I shouldn’t have allowed them to take me alive. I should have fought to the very death. I should have listened to the childhood warnings of my father. He’d told me I would be tortured. He’d warned me. Why did I not listen to him? I never listened to him! Now I would pay!

“You are being recorded, Marlowe. Just know that right now, Harley is watching your big brown eyes so full of terror. He is seeing you sitting there with your raven hair matted, you wearing nothing but your lover’s shirt. Yes, he can see you are trying to be brave. You are trying to be stoic. You are doing everything he would do in your position. But that asshole who killed my brother will watch as Sadist strips you bare, tortures you, violates you, and even gives you pleasure when I’m feeling particularly generous and command him to do so. Because don’t forget for one second that I have all the control. And that sick fucker, Harley Crow, will watch helplessly one moment, and then also watch while jacking off to what is being done to you in morbid fascination.” Lukas laughed loudly, the shrill sound bouncing off the walls of the room. “Harley Crow will finally be at my mercy just as you will be at Sadist’s.”

Sadist had not moved an inch. His black hair and black eyes only added to the appearance that he was death himself. His hands were clenched by his sides, his broad shoulders held back, and his head held high like he was a proud man. Yet, he stood and did nothing as some sick bastard spoke of him like he was a captive slave at Lukas’s mercy. Could he not hear what I did? Did he not want to shatter the two-sided mirror to reach the man who spoke the way he did? Did he then not want to grab a shard of glass and tear Lukas’s jugular out as I so desperately wanted to do?

“I will avenge my brother’s death. I’m sure you know what Harley did to him. How he tortured him. Cut off his fingers and toes one by one. Were you there, Marlowe? Do you get off on watching Harley kill his victims?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know anything about that. I wasn’t there. I didn’t know your brother at all.” I swallowed hard as bile rose in my throat at the thought of this voice belonging to some vengeful man who believed I had anything to do with the torture and killing of a man. “I’m not the person you think I am. I’m just a waitress at a gentlemen’s club in New Orleans. Nothing more.”

“So, let’s begin, shall we?” Lukas continued as if he hadn’t heard a single word I’d said. “There is no need for anyone to have to watch you sit in that dirty tee shirt. No man really wants to see a woman tied up and dirty. I mean… we like our women dirty, but not on the surface. No, we want you clean and lickable.”

I clenched my jaw, fighting the rage that threatened to surface as well as the hot tears that begged to be allowed to course down my face. I stared straight ahead and hoped he would listen to my plea if I could deliver it just right. “I understand you have reason to want to hurt Harley Crow. I understand that.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Did he kill your brother?”

I shook my head, trying desperately to appear calm and collected. “I know you think that I am the perfect revenge on Harley, but you’re wrong. I don’t know him. I only came to his house last night. We only had sex once. I’m just a waitress he didn’t even know existed before yesterday at”—I paused and swallowed back the words Spiked Roses. I didn’t want to risk putting anyone else in danger—“the gentlemen’s club I work at. I came to his house one time and that’s it. I’m not his girlfriend, and he doesn’t care about me. This plan of yours won’t work, because I’m the wrong woman. I don’t think he will think twice about sacrificing me if he had to. I don’t hold his heart. I don’t.”

“Come now, Marlowe. Lying and pleading is so unattractive. Harley Crow would be so disappointed in you. I would have thought he would have trained his woman better.”

The tears I was trying so hard to hold back broke past their barrier. “Please, you have to believe me. I’m not lying. I swear it. I don’t know what Harley did to your brother or anyone else. I don’t know him. I’m a stranger to him.” I choked on a sob but continued on as tears ran down my face. “Please let me go. Please.”

I would not break. I would not break. I would not break.

Fuck that. I was breaking.

“Your tears do nothing but make my dick hard,” was his sharp reply.

Bastard. Fucking bastard.

I swallowed back the next plea that demanded to pour past my lips. I wouldn’t cry anymore. No fucking way. I would not make this asshole’s dick hard. Motherfucker.

“Sadist, strip her bare.”

As if a button had been pressed, Sadist dropped the mask and blindfold he was holding and removed a switchblade from his pocket. My heart skipped, fearing what he would do with it. Were they going to cut off my fingers and toes like Harley had done to Lukas’s brother? Would they do to me exactly what Harley had done to his victim? I’m sure it seemed fair in their eyes. A finger for a finger. A toe for a toe. A life for a life.

Moving mechanically like a robot, he took hold of my shirt and sliced it right down the front. Not once did he look me in the eye, or show the slightest bit of emotion. I wanted to struggle and try to fight against his actions as he carved through the fabric of my shirt—Harley’s shirt—but I knew it was pointless. I sat naked on a chair with the cool air of the room washing over my flesh, but I would not show my feelings of terror and desperation any longer. I would not give Lukas the satisfaction of seeing my shame, my humiliation, and my fear of what would come next. I also tried to block out the fact that the red light still flashed on all the cameras. I could not allow my thoughts to go there—imagining Harley staring at my complete nudity as I was about to be tortured because of a belief there was something more between us.

When Sadist had completed his task, he once again stood at attention beside me.

“Ah, you are quite lovely, my Marlowe. Quite lovely indeed,” Lukas said. The words sounded as if they slithered off his tongue. “Oh, we are going to have some fun with you. That body… oh, that body.”

I swallowed the bulge of disgust in the back of my throat, wanting so badly to beg for mercy. I could almost feel his lecherous eyes staring at my breasts as my nipples hardened against the cool air. I tried to close my knees as best I could, knowing that Lukas—and Harley—stared upon my sex on full display.

“Let me ask you something, lovely Marlowe. Is Harley Crow a strict lover? Does he punish you when you are a naughty girl? I bet he’s going to be so mad at you for allowing yourself to be captured. Would he punish you for not being safer and more aware? From what I have heard from my men, the house was unlocked and taking you was a cakewalk. They said you didn’t even put up a fight. A scared little bird were you. Naughty, naughty. Harley must have taught you better. You couldn’t possibly be the woman of a lethal killer and not know how to defend yourself.”

I didn’t say anything. No matter what I said, this man was clearly not listening to me.

“Sadist, I think we should do Mr. Crow a favor. I think we should punish this little scared bird as he would if he were here to do so. At least he will be able to watch.”

I heard a wicked chuckle seethe from the speaker as Sadist came closer, clearly understanding exactly what Lukas had in mind when he spoke of punishment. Using the same switchblade he had used to disrobe me, he cut the ropes around my wrists and ankles that held me captive.

Before I could process that I was free from my bonds, Sadist lifted me effortlessly off the chair, and upturned me over his lap as he sat where I once had. My stomach came slamming down upon his thighs, and I stared down at the concrete floor, realizing I was being put over his knee like an errant child would be.

Without saying a word, or giving me any warning, Sadist spanked my bare ass with his large palm. The sting took the breath right out of me, more out of surprise rather than pain. But that soon changed as he continued firing off swat after swat, spanking every square inch of my upturned bottom. I wasn’t sure if I should lie there, be stoic, and just accept this humiliating act, trying to block out everything until he finally stopped the spanking, or beg for him to stop. Although the burn on my backside made that decision for me.

“Stop!” I demanded, trying to throw myself off Sadist’s lap. The effort was futile, because he only held me firmer against him.

“Continue on,” Lukas commanded from the other side of the window.

Sadist did as he was asked and continued on with the spanking, slapping harder every time I tried to wiggle from his grasp. Swat after swat, the shameful act seemed to go on forever, but I would not cry. I would not give these assholes the satisfaction of giving them what they wanted. I knew they wanted to hear my cries. Fuck them.

I actually liked being spanked normally—it turned me on more than many sexual acts would—but this was not normal. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want Sadist. There was nothing sexual about this discipline, and all I felt was pure and absolute rage. The fire in my soul far exceeded the fire on my ass. And the fact that Lukas watched like a damn coward made me want to kill the fucker.

“Stand her up,” Lukas commanded evenly.

Without even skipping a beat, Sadist stopped the corporal punishment and stood me up on wobbly knees. If he hadn’t had a strong hold of my right arm, I surely would have crumpled to the ground as the blood rushed back to my head.

“Slap her breast.”

Sadist slapped my breast robotically.

“Slap her other breast.”

He followed the order again, while I could do nothing more than stand before the mirror accepting the punishment.

“Slap her pussy.”

Positioning his body slightly to get a better angle, Sadist swatted my pussy, sending a tantalizing bite through my core. It made me feel filthy. Fucking filthy.

“Again,” Lukas ordered.

He did so with no emotion in his eyes. Did he not feel anything at all?

“That is enough for now,” Lukas’s voice boomed throughout the room. “I think that is just enough to show Mr. Crow what is in store for his lovely Latina beauty.”

I could do nothing but stand, and there was nothing more for me to say.

“Welcome to your new room, Marlowe. You will only leave this room to use the bathroom facilities. You are not an animal—at least not yet. So, if you need to use the restroom, knock on the door and Sadist will escort you. I will be back to continue our fun little game later. Until then, make yourself comfortable.”

Sadist gathered all the shreds of fabric from the tee shirt I once wore, as well as the mask, blindfold, and ropes that had held me and exited the room, not once looking my way. The red lights of the cameras turned off, and the glare of the mirror faded. Lukas was gone. Sadist was gone. Even Harley Crow was gone, unable to see me anymore as I was held captive.

I was alone.

Shit, I was all alone.

Chapter Twelve

Marlowe

I sat in the corner of my white cell with my knees pulled up to my chest. Curled up in this position was the only way I could feel some sense of control. I was able to conceal some of my nudity in case the red lights on the cameras returned. Though if what Lukas had said was true, then Harley and God knows who else had already seen my breasts, my sex, my naked helpless body on display.

I struggled to remain calm as panic beat against every ounce of control I had left. I tried to think of a solution—any solution at all. There was nothing in the room but the metal chair. It was bolted to the ground, so picking the chair up and using it as a weapon was not an option. Charging Sadist and trying to attack him with my bare hands was also not an option. It would be the same as me punching a brick wall. The man was solid and even more ominous than Harley was. I wouldn’t have a chance, and the only thing I would do was upset him more.

I had no options. At least not on my own. I had to hope that Harley would take pity on me and indeed meet the demands of Lukas regardless of what they were. Maybe Harley would care. Maybe he wouldn’t want to see an innocent woman die. I truly believed that beneath the tattoos of skulls and death, and hidden behind his dark eyes, there was a decent and kind man. The man who’d taken off his coat so that I would remain warm on his boat. The man who’d gently helped me in and out of it. The man who’d asked me questions because I could see he genuinely wanted to know the answers.

Maybe Harley would get the other managing members of Spiked Roses involved in rescuing me. The idea of that actually gave me some hope. They were all powerful men in their own right. I knew they had connections in the dark underworld. Maybe if they all worked together… Even if Harley didn’t care, the others would. Wouldn’t it send a bad message to the other girls at Spiked Roses if they allowed me to be kidnapped, tortured and killed while on a Tasting? And I knew Tennessee would care. He would demand my safe return. That man cared about me. He wasn’t just my boss. He was my friend. I knew this. But would Harley tell them?

I had no idea the rules of a criminal. How does one act? Would Harley meeting the demands of Lukas make him weak? Would it ruin his reputation? Would he have to choose me over his legacy?

Rocking back and forth in a ball, I tried to breathe as evenly as I could. Terror consumed my bones, and they ached. Chills ran down my spine, and I shivered uncontrollably. And what made it worse… the red lights turned back on.

They were watching.

They were watching me and probably getting hard off my fear.

I was fucking afraid.

I was terrified and that fucker Lukas had a hard dick because of it.

I examined the mirror, wondering if he was on the other side watching me. He didn’t say anything, but I wondered if he was there. I balled myself up even more, trying to hide every part of me which would make that fucker want to jack off to me.

Was Harley watching me now? I wondered what Lukas was doing. Was he sending the video through email? Was there some link? Shit, was I on some site where others could see me too? I bet there were sites out there for sick fucks to see girls like me scared shitless awaiting their fates… whatever that fate would be.

I wanted to be Layla right now. At least in death, I would find peace. She’d gone quickly—or at least I hoped she had. But she wasn’t held captive fearing what torture would come next. My fate would be worse than death, and I had to somehow wrap my head around what would happen. But the unknown was the worst part of it. Did they want me dead eventually? Or would they just use and abuse me for a lifetime?

But the torture had already begun. Time. Time was the beginning of the agony. I sat in that cold room for what felt like an eternity. Hours? Was it nighttime? Still day? Was it still Saturday?

I just sat there and rocked, staring at the red light. But as time passed on, my fear turned to anger. I was tired of being the fucking victim. So goddamn tired.

Stupid or not, I stood up and charged to the corner of the room and stared up into the camera. “You stupid fucks. Get me the fuck out of here. You hear me? Get me the fuck out! I have nothing to do with Harley Crow! Nothing! You are making a mistake. Do you know who I am? Do you want to really know who the fuck I am? My father will kill you all. He will hunt you down and make you pay for what you are doing to me. His vengeance will be like nothing you can imagine. You hurt me, you kill me, you even touch me again, and he will slice your goddamn cocks off. You hear me?”

I paused as if I could hear them thinking. Balling up my fists, and straightening my spine even more, ignoring the fact that I was completely naked as I demanded my freedom, I glared straight into the lens.

“I am the daughter of Juan Alvarez. He is the president of a Mexican MC in Oregon called The Quarrymen. And though you may not know who he is, or even what their club is all about and the mayhem that they cause, you should fear them. They are ruthless and deadly. Killing his daughter would bring down the wrath of every member of that group.”

I licked my lips and took a deep breath. I hated saying those words. Despised it. I’d left that all behind. Ran away so I would never have to think of that world again. But I had no choice. I had to use the only cards I had, and those were my father and his club.

“You may think you’ll get away with this,” I continued. “You may think that you are only going to piss off Harley Crow and feel you can handle his fury. But you have no idea what my father will unleash. He will find out. He will hunt you down. He will make you pay. So, let me the fuck out! Let me go, and we will all just forget this disgusting shit happened. I will go back to my job, and you can seek your revenge in some other way. You fucked up by kidnapping me. You have no fucking idea how much you did. Turn off this damn camera, and let me out of this fucking cell. Or else!”

I stood there and waited. Waited to see the lights turn off. I waited to hear the door open.

Nothing. Nothing.

Fury bubbling to the surface and exploding over, I stormed over to the glass window and began to pound my fists on it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to break the glass, but I sure as hell would get their attention. Over and over, I pounded as I screamed in rage. Not fear. Rage.

“You stupid motherfucker. You will pay for this. You will fucking pay!”

I had no idea how long I pounded and screamed, but eventually exhaustion took over. Returning to where I’d once sat, balled up, I resumed the familiar position. I’d tried. I’d prayed that dropping my father’s name would be enough. But apparently, these men did not fear an angry motorcycle club. They should. They definitely should.

It bothered me that Harley knew of my past if he was watching this video, even though it really didn’t matter at this point. I hadn’t told a soul in New Orleans of my roots back home. I’d never wanted people to know what I was escaping. My past was a demon I was locking away in my closet with the boogieman I never saw growing up. I was fleeing from the violence, the crime, and the death. I never wanted to see it again. I didn’t want to become my mother who was just an old lady and had learned to keep her mouth shut and do what she was told which usually meant looking the other way. I would never be an old lady, as they liked to call their women. No fucking way. So I’d left. Left it all behind. Or so I’d thought.

Here I was though. Violence. Crime. Death. I’d left it all behind only to only walk right into it with someone else and worse. The minute I’d seen Harley Crow, I should have run the other way. I knew better. I fucking should have known better than to lust after a bad boy. He was my history repeating itself, and I’d strolled right into it. Hell, I’d signed in blood to enter into it. What a fucking fool I was. I was worse than my mother. I had not only become her, but so much worse. I hated how she was at the mercy of a man—my father. But I, too, was at the mercy of a man—Harley Crow and all that came with him. God, I was a fucking idiot.

Resting my head on my knees, I closed my eyes. Maybe I could sleep. Maybe I could just disappear and get lost in my dream, never to wake up to the nightmare I was living.

I wasn’t sure how long I had sat there, wallowing in my own misery when the door finally opened. Looking up, I tried not to cry out when I saw Sadist enter the room. He stared at me, yet it seemed as if he looked right through me. Emotionless. Eyes of a killer. I assumed that if he didn’t care or get attached to the victim, it made it easier for him to do whatever was necessary. Oh, God. What would be necessary?

Bending down, he took me by one of my arms and lifted me to standing.

“Please,” I whispered. “You have this all wrong. Please help me. Get me out of here. I beg you.”

I knew deep down that pleading with this man—a soldier of Lukas’s—would be futile, but I still tried anyway.

He said nothing, but dragged me toward the doorway, with his hand gripped firmly on my upper arm. I don’t know why, but the idea of being taken from the room scared me even more than being locked inside. It was the unknown.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to keep up with his long strides as he walked me down a hallway. Everything was concrete and gray with no windows anywhere. It seemed we were in some bunker or industrial warehouse someplace. There were no signs of life other than Sadist and me.

He didn’t answer, though I didn’t expect him to. He hadn’t said a single word since I’d first laid eyes on his monster self. He kept dragging me down the hallway until we reached another metal door. He placed his big palm on the door and pushed it open, shoving me inside. He didn’t follow, and with a quick glance around, I saw why. It was a restroom. There was one toilet, one sink with a small mirror over it, and a tiny window with bars near the ceiling. There was no way to escape, but I was positive that Sadist had made sure of that fact, or he wouldn’t have left me in there by myself.

Realizing that I had been in the white room for quite some time, I squatted over the dirty toilet seat. Then while washing my hands, I stared into the mirror and cringed. Black mascara ran down my cheeks, and my hair laid limply around my face in wisps of tangles. Using the water from the sink, I washed off the makeup, and tried to tame my black strands to the best of my ability. I had no idea why I was allowing vanity to even come into play at a time like this, but it was the only thing I could control at the moment.

I glanced at the door and wondered how long I could remain in here before Sadist would enter to retrieve me. Would that anger him? Did I care? Taking a weary step toward the door, I froze when I heard the sound of a gunshot. The sound vibrated off the walls and resonated in my soul. Why was there gunfire? Was Lukas killing someone? Surely, that wasn’t Sadist killing anyone. I was pretty positive that Sadist hadn’t left his post from outside my door.

Or was it Harley Crow? Had he found me?

Was he rescuing me like some knight in shining armor?

Not being able to take the unknown any longer, I ran toward the door and peeked out. Sadist wasn’t there. No one was there. The hallway was completely empty. Sadist must have run off to see what the gunfire was all about.

And then there was another in the distance. And then another.

Loud metallic booms echoed all around me, screaming at me. Demanding that I run for safety. This may be my only chance of survival. Regardless what the gunfire meant, it gave me an opening. Run!

Run!

Not caring that I was naked or had no shoes on, I charged down the hallway faster than I had ever run in my life. I had no idea where it would lead me, and for all I knew, it could land me right back in the waiting arms of Lukas. But I had to try. I had to take my destiny into my own hands. And even if I were to be captured again, at least I would die fighting.

Reaching the end of the corridor, I took a sharp right, hoping I would eventually see an exit of some sort. Reaching another hallway that gave me a choice of turning right or left, I chose left.

I chose poorly.

Before I could even see it coming, I was snatched from behind and thrown up against a hard body. A hand came crashing down on my mouth as I was held captive in two extremely strong arms. I couldn’t struggle. I couldn’t move. My back pressed against a chest, and I knew it was over. Over.

My escape had come to an end.

Chapter Thirteen

Harley

“Don’t say a word,” I whispered in Marlowe’s ear.

Her tense body relaxed some at the sound of my voice.

“I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth now,” I said in a calm and even voice, knowing how close to the edge of insanity she teetered on. Spinning her around, I took her into my arms in an embrace. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here now.”

“Oh God,” she mumbled, her face pressed securely near my heart as she gripped the fabric of my shirt in her tiny fists. Pulling away enough to look up at me with absolute horror in her brown eyes, she whispered, “There are two men. Lukas and Sadist.”

I nodded. “It’s over. You won’t see them again.”

The look of relief washed over her delicate features, and an odd sensation attacked my core. The way her eyes shone under the fluorescent lights, the way her breath hitched and how her entire body softened in my arms, gave me a sense of satisfaction I had never felt before. Tears ran down her face, and I couldn’t help but use my thumb to wipe them away.

“It’s over?” she asked softly as her body trembled against mine.

I nodded, tightening my grip around her.

“You came. You saved me.” She continued to cry, her soft sobs shaking her small frame still locked in my arms. “Those gunshots were yours. You saved me. You cared.”

Had I? Saved her? No. I didn’t save people. It wasn’t who I was. I caused pain. Just as I’d caused this pain.

“I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. I was so very sorry.

This too was a new sensation for me. Regret, remorse, guilt, repentance were not words that I lived by or felt. Ever. You couldn’t in my line of work and survive.

But with Marlowe, and that very minute I held her shaking, terrified body close to me, those were all the words I felt. I was so sorry. All I wanted to do was take her pain and fright away. To go back in time and make sure that I never allowed for this to all happen. She didn’t deserve this. No one did. My demons and fucked up past should not have done this to her.

Normally I loved the smell of fear. But not today. Not with her.

Today I loved the smell of protection more.

I had never seen the look of relief in someone’s eyes before. The look of complete and total trust. And peering down into Marlowe’s tear-filled eyes, I could see she trusted me. I didn’t deserve that trust, yet she did.

“I was so scared. They said they kidnapped me because of revenge. Because you killed Lukas’s brother. They thought by kidnapping me and killing…” Her eyes went wide. “Oh God, Harley. Do you know about Layla?”

I placed my finger on her trembling bottom lip. “I know about it all.”

Removing my jacket, I wrapped it around her, covering her naked body with the heavy, black fabric. I fastened it in front of her and then pulled out her long black hair, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders. Even now in her absolute most broken state, the woman captured my heart with her beauty. How was this possible? How could this be?

“It was awful. Two men in masks killed her and then took me. I didn’t hear anything. She was already lying in a pool of blood when I came into the room. There was nothing I could do. I’m so sorry,” she said softly as sobs shook her shoulders up and down.

“Never say those words. It’s me who is sorry.”

“But she was your friend. I can only imagine how terrible it must have been to find her like that.”

“No more talk. Let’s get you out of here and back to my place.” I scooped her up and cradled her in my arms. There was no way I was going to allow her to take one more step barefoot.

“Will they find us there? Are we safe?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“I told you it’s over. You are safe. I swear this to you.”

“But what if they have more people helping them? What if the men who took me come back and try again? Maybe we should go someplace else. What about the police? What about Layla? She was murdered, Harley. We can’t just not call the police.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s taken care of. I ended it all, and it’s over. You’re safe, Marlowe,” I reassured as I looked down into her eyes. I was taking long strides to get the hell out of this shithole. “Once we get to my place, I’ll never leave your side. I will do whatever I have to do to make sure you never feel that afraid again. I promise you that I will never ever see the look of fear in your eyes again. I’ll earn your forgiveness by protecting you for the rest of my life if that’s what you want. But I swear to you, that I will never allow you to feel afraid again.”

“I don’t blame you, Harley. I know you think I do. But I don’t. I know the type of life you lived… or live. I know you did what Lukas said you did to his brother, and you have done that to many others. But I don’t blame you for what your enemies did to me. I know you didn’t know this would happen. I know you didn’t for one minute think I was in danger or you wouldn’t have left.” She rested her head against my shoulder and sighed deeply. “Thank you. Thank you for coming to get me. I am not your woman so… it means a lot to me that you came to get me back.”

“You should have never been here to begin with. I’m so sorry.”

Her arms tightened around my neck. “I just want it to all be over.”

“It is.”

“I trust you.”

Fuck. She should never trust a man like me.

I continued to march in a half daze, not being able to process how someone could be so forgiving and compassionate even as they stared fear straight in the eye. She should be screaming at me. Demanding answers. Hating me for what I had just put her through, and the dangerous position my actions had put her in. She should be livid and so fucking afraid of me and the life I live that she demanded to be taken to safety which is as far away from me as one could get.

But not Marlowe.

“Please take me home… your home,” she said softly. “Tell me this was all a bad dream and I’m safe.”

Yes, it was a bad dream. I was the fucking bad dream.

I just wasn’t sure how I was going to wake her up from it.

Chapter Fourteen

Harley

I’ve lived my life in a cell, the metal bars being the ghosts of all I killed. I’d accepted many years ago that my sins would forever cast me in a place much worse than Hell. Even Hell was too good for the man I became with each pull of the trigger or stab of the knife.

But nothing, nothing attacked my being like seeing the shattered woman before me. It was because of my sickness that she cried. It was because of the sadistic Devil who sat on my shoulder making me do all that I did that had her shaking in my arms. I was the one who killed. I was the one so full of hate and rage. I was the one who deserved to suffer the agony of terror. Not her. Not her.

I couldn’t fix the sins of my past. I couldn’t be the man who did no wrong. I fucking did wrong. I always did wrong. But not with Marlowe. I had to fix her. I had to pick up every single broken piece that was caused by me, and make an attempt to put her back together again. It would be my personal mission to protect her, comfort her, and make damn sure that she never felt what she had today. Never again. Never fucking again.

As I carried Marlowe across the threshold of my house, the full moon illuminated the swampy landscape through the large living room window. A single lamp was on, casting shadows throughout the room. Shadows deep and plentiful like the ones that covered my heart. But as I glanced down at Marlowe, who’d released a sigh of relief the minute we’d entered the warm house, I realized that this woman had somehow learned how to navigate the maze through the cracks of light I had left on in my beating heart.

It had been 24 hours since we had sat in this room. Playfully bantering about who was or was not afraid of the dark. It was the pre sex talk. The talk that meant nothing more than to set the stage for a night of incredible fucking. That was all it was supposed to be. I would have never signed on for anything else, had I known.

Had I known.

Known that Marlowe Masters would capture my heart. That my foolish ways and fucked up world would hand over something I never wanted to give to anyone. Pulling her into my world. Into who I was. I never wanted her to leave my nightmare. I wanted her to hold my hand and guide me through it like a lighthouse would guide a ghost ship through a storm.

Just as I was about to place her down on the tile floor, she tensed and fresh tears escaped her eyes. “Oh poor Layla.” Her eyes were cast down to the spot where Layla had lain in a pool of blood. Nothing remained there but the awful memory. She looked at me and ran her fingertips along my jawline. “I’m so sorry, Harley.”

Her compassion. Her kind heart. Even while her own situation had been fucked, she still cared about Layla and about me. She cared about me. I didn’t deserve the good. Not when I was the fucking evil.

“Let’s get you in the bath,” I said as I walked toward the master bathroom. I had to get her away from the visions of death I knew she had. I had to protect her, even though it was because of me that those visions existed.

She nodded and laid her head against my shoulder. So tender. So soft.

The only way I would survive this night from my own madness was by focusing on Marlowe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t allow any other thoughts to exist except the protection of this woman. I was helpless to change my past, but I could control this very minute. And right now, it was about stealing the negative thoughts from her mind—not adding to them. One goal only: To make sure that she never was afraid of the dark again.

Placing her on the edge of the tub, I turned on the water. “I’m sorry that I don’t have any bubble bath or salts.”

She smiled and released a giggle. “I wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, I think it would have concerned me.”

I could have stared at that smile on her face forever. It was a much better sight than the look of misery and torment that I had seen before.

Testing the water to make sure it was perfect, I said, “I’ll be waiting in the living room for you. Take your time.” I reached under the sink for a fresh towel perfectly folded and placed it next to her feet.

She reached for my hand and squeezed hard. “Please stay. I don’t want to be left alone.”

“I’ll be right outside—”

“Please,” she interrupted with another squeeze of her hand.

I nodded as I reached for the buttons on the jacket and helped her with undoing them. Lowering the jacket off her shoulders and shedding her of the covering, I helped her into the large bath as the steam of the hot water circled around her soft skin. She didn’t appear embarrassed or shy about being naked in front of me, though I suppose that there really was no reason to be. I had already worshipped every inch of her mesmerizing body, and wished I would someday have that opportunity again.

But I didn’t deserve her.

Being with me would only hurt her like what had happened today.

It was because of me that she was broken, and I didn’t ever want to do it again.

Easing her body against the back of the tub, she closed her eyes and said, “This feels nice.”

Her look of contentment gave me that same feeling as seeing the smile on her face when she’d first giggled.

“Harley?” she said softly as her eyes remained closed. “Do you have a lot of guns? Like a gun room or something?”

“No. I have a gun or two in the house, but that’s it. Why? Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean you aren’t safe.”

“So if those men come back, you’ll shoot them?”

“If anyone tried to hurt you or take you away from me, then, yes, I would definitely shoot them. I have guns, just not a gun room.”

“I just pictured this house differently when I watched you at Spiked Roses. I thought you would live in some ultra modern loft and have a secret room with guns and bombs and stuff. Like those action movies you see.”

“I’m nothing like those movies.”

“But you are an assassin. Don’t all assassins have hundreds of guns? What about knives? A knife collection?”

“No. Not me. I actually couldn’t give a fuck less about guns and knives. I don’t know how to make bombs or booby traps and shit like that. I just get a gun. They serve as a reminder, and I don’t fucking need any more reminding. My life is a constant reminder.”

Opening her eyes, she stared at me and slowly sorrow engulfed any sign of pleasure she’d had for that split second.

“What happened with Layla’s body? Did you have to call the police? Will there be a funeral?” Fresh tears fell from her eyes again. “I’ll help you with all that. You shouldn’t have to do it alone. I know you are used to death and killing, but she was someone special to you. No matter how desensitized you are to death, I’m sure you are devastated. I’m here. I want you to know I’m here to help you. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

I shook my head. “Please, Marlowe. Not now. I can’t. Not now.” I wasn’t ready to face this nightmare head-on. I needed tonight. One night to just focus on this incredible woman who fascinated me in more ways than I’d thought possible before I dove head first into the darkness I was so familiar with. “Tomorrow. All I ask is that we wait until tomorrow to go down that path.”

She swallowed and wiped away her tears. “I understand,” she said with a nod. “Yes. Let’s just have tonight.”

“That’s all I ask. I don’t deserve to ask a thing, but I beg you.”

“Of course,” she said as she leaned up and took hold of my hand. The warm water from her palm sent a chill down my spine. Or maybe it was the way she looked at me that caused it because there was so much sympathy and understanding present. “Just know that I won’t leave you to deal with this all by yourself. I won’t leave you.”

“I wish that were true.”

“It is. You didn’t leave me, so I won’t leave you.”

“You’ll have to leave me for self preservation,” I mumbled. “I only hurt the ones who believe that I can be anything else but the beast I’ve become.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said, still holding onto me. “I think you want to believe that, but it isn’t true. You want to be bad because then you have an excuse to focus on all the feelings of darkness rather than the good. The good is scarier because you are always at risk of losing it. The feeling of loss is far worse than living in a constant state of a black void. You might have done bad things in your life, but I can see, and I can feel that you are not a bad man. You just pretend to be. I’ve seen bad men, Harley, and you are not one of them.”

“Like your dad?” I asked, reaching for a washcloth that sat folded on the corner of the tub. I motioned for Marlowe to turn around so I could wash her back, which she did without saying a word. “Was your dad a bad man?”

“You saw me on the video? Heard what I said?”

“I saw you,” I answered honestly. Trying to erase the picture of her tiny, naked, and frightened self screaming into the camera.

“I don’t like to talk about him.”

“Why?” I ran the wet cloth along the edges of her tattoo, wondering if I would ever truly have the pleasure of knowing the depths of this woman. Maybe it would help me figure out what exactly it was about her that had me feeling like I couldn’t go another minute without her by my side.

“That tattoo is because of him.”

I paused the cloth and studied the tree that curled around the enticing curves of her body again. “How so?”

“There was an old oak tree in our backyard growing up. It was huge and had been there long before us. It truly was part of the house. You could see it from the window as you washed the dishes. I couldn’t imagine the yard without it. But every single day since my earliest memory, my father would wake up from a drunken night and stumble his way out to the tree and puke right at its base, and then when he was done with that, he would pull out his dick and piss on it. Others in the MC would do it too if they crashed at the house, or if there was a party at our place—which was often. Some even joked that it was the puke and piss tree, but to my mother and me it wasn’t. It was the tree with its big bold leaves that we stared at every single day as we worked in the kitchen. It was our beauty. It was our piece of the world that was simple. It was just a tree and possessed nothing bad and wasn’t filled with lies and betrayal like everything else in our lives.

“But that tree began to die. Each season, the leaves became fewer and fewer. Dead branches scattered throughout the thin foliage that would come crashing to the ground with the slightest windstorm. My mother and sisters loved that tree. I loved that tree. My father destroyed that tree just as he was slowly destroying us with his life of running an MC and feeling as if he were God. Rules did not apply to him in his fucked up world. Love, compassion, family values, and kindness were not present in his land of booze, whores, killing, and the thirst for power. Every year, the tree got worse. Every year, so did my mother, my sisters, and I. We lived in a Mexican gang hell… a prison. And those assholes on bikes were our gatekeepers. I couldn’t date anyone and not fear they would be killed. I couldn’t go anywhere without the fear that I would be murdered in retaliation from some other MC for whatever vile thing my father had done to them. My life was so far from normal, and I had no one. My family was in a constant state of survival mode, which forced us to live with an every man for himself mentality. It was a hollow and lonely existence growing up. Superficial love. That was all I received and all I knew how to give.

“I cut myself daily with whatever cheap razor blade I could find to numb the pain, and I feared I would eventually become like my mother who watched her soaps and spoke to her parrot with no life left in her eyes. I cut my inner thighs to keep this twisted need of mine hidden. It was my dark secret, but my entire life was becoming one big fucking dark secret.

“On my seventeenth birthday, I packed a bag and waited one month until I graduated high school early. I kept that bag packed every day while I waited. And the day I left that house, I looked at the dying tree, and promised myself that I would never allow someone to destroy me.”

“And you came to New Orleans?” I asked as I continued to rub on the tattoo that I now knew the story behind.

“To play music. It was all I had. No other skills other than that, and definitely no money. But at least I had myself.” Marlowe turned so she could face me. “And I never cut myself again once I left. There was no more pain to silence.”

“Until today,” I said.

“I don’t need to silence my pain. I have you.” She pulled up on her knees so her face was inches from mine.

I shook my head. “I cause pain. I never take it away.”

She placed her finger on my lips as I had done to her before and smiled. “Shh, not tonight. Remember? You said we have tonight to just be. Nothing but us. And I have other ideas on how my pain can be silenced. I know exactly how you can take it all away.”

Leaning in, she placed her wet palms on the back of my neck and pulled me into her, kissing me on the lips. The subtle touch lit me on fire. I was the cold heart caught in her flame.

“Us,” she repeated as she pressed her tongue past my lips and danced it along with mine.

The kiss paralyzed me. I didn’t know how to resist. There was no weapon I could use to fight back against the surge of emotion exploding from within. So soft. So good. So light. She was in control, yet used no force.

“I don’t kiss,” I said against the tantalizing and foreign act. “Not like this.”

“I do.” She deepened the kiss and raised further out of the tub, the sound of splashing water against her flesh driving me insane. I had to have her, but after today, I didn’t deserve her. This kiss was just an agonizing tease of what couldn’t be more—or what shouldn’t be.

“Remember what I said about teasing,” I warned, breaking the kiss, knowing I had to or be undone by this woman forever.

She kissed me again, not heeding my warning in the slightest. “And remember that I don’t tease,” she said as she nipped my lower lip and crawled onto my lap, straddling me with her dripping wet body. Latching her arms behind my neck, followed by her ankles hooking behind my back, she gave a wicked smile and said, “Take me. Take me so all the pain goes away. I choose you over the blade.”

Maybe if I was a better man, I would have resisted and told her I was no good. That a blade, and slices along her beautiful skin, would be far better than what I had to offer her. If she truly knew. If she truly knew the monster I was, she would never be able to look me in the eye in fear of being sucked into my sick world that I’d created for myself. There was no one to blame but myself. So, if I were a better man, I would have saved her from me. Be the protector I so wanted to be for her.

But I was not a better man. Far from it.

Standing up as she still clung to my body, I gripped the cheeks of her slick ass and carried her to the bedroom. There would be no stopping this from happening. I couldn’t resist. She needed love, affection, cuddles, and sweet promises of security always. She did not need my kind of toxic buried balls deep inside of her. Yet, not only was I a bad man, I was a weak man.

Placing her gently onto the bed, I removed my clothing as fast as I could. It was impossible to stop staring at the way the droplets of water glistened off her skin in the rays of the moonlight beaming in through the window. She was like some mythical creature here to seduce me for one night only. One night before death and the end of all good waiting patiently for the sunlight’s arrival.

“I’ve truly never seen such a beautiful woman as you,” I admitted, not feeling like I needed to hold back the truth.

At least I could give her one truth, even though other truths remained locked inside of me. The truth she deserved to know. The truth I wasn’t able to give. Not yet… maybe not never. But fuck if Marlowe didn’t deserve to know it. Now.

Now goddamnit!

But I was a fucking coward.

The big bad Harley Crow was nothing but a damn coward.

And if I did tell her the truth about the type of man I truly was… if I did, she wouldn’t ever look at me again like she did that very moment. Her eyes. Her lips begging to be devoured, her body tempting every last bit of control I had left in my body.

She smiled and pressed up on her elbows, watching me as I took off the remaining piece of my clothing. “And I’ve never seen a man as sexy as you, Harley Crow.” She motioned with her finger for me to join her. “Get over here and fuck me.”

Yes, this woman was in control tonight. All power. All consuming. And definitely in command over every aspect of my life. Normally, I would be the master. I would make her beg and plead for the pleasure to come. I never handed over the reins, and would punish her for even thinking she could touch them. But not tonight. Tonight, the power rested in her hands. I would do nothing but make her cry out my name in pleasure. Nothing more than pleasure. She deserved so much more, but that was all I could give.

If she only knew that she marched toward the gallows as she beckoned me. I would be her death… ultimately. That fact was delivered today in a way that was unforgivable. The noose would strangle the life right out of her, and the only one to blame would be me. But as I crawled on top of her, hungry to feel my cock buried deep within her pussy, I knew I only tightened the rope more.

There would be no push and pull tonight. No battle of dominance and submission. I had no desire to balance on the serrated knife I normally thrived on. I wanted only her warmth. I wanted only her desire gripping my dick as I thrust her into oblivion. Nothing more but giving her pleasure. No pain. No more pain. She’d shed her last tear today.

Fighting back the demons, and ignoring the inferno of sin, I spread her legs and slid my cock inside of her.

She arched her back and clung to me as a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips. No fear. No terror. No pain. Just pleasure.

In and out, I moved, kissing a trail of kisses along her neck and collarbone. Such tenderness that I couldn’t ever remember giving another person before.

I was an assassin.

A brutal killer.

But with Marlowe, I would change.

I would assassinate the man I was before.

I would kill everything inside of me to make sure I would never see the pain and fear in her eyes again.

Who was afraid of the dark?

Me.

I was fucking afraid of the dark. I was afraid of the man I had become, but even more afraid of the man Marlowe made me want to be.

Over and over, I fucked her…

No…

I loved on her.

I didn’t bite, but nibbled.

I didn’t growl, but moaned as the walls of her wet and warm core tightened around me.

I didn’t demand, but gave.

Looking into her eyes, I saw pure innocent delight as I buried myself deeper with every push. Eyes so full of life and passion. So bright and alive. So different than the eyes I had seen when she feared for her life. The eyes I stared into that very moment were the eyes I wanted to see forever.

“I will never allow you to be afraid again,” I whispered as I continued to rock my hips against hers.

She reached up and pulled my head down, forcing our lips to connect with another kiss. As our tongues intertwined, she moaned and gasped while her pussy clenched around me in completion. Unfamiliar intimacy from her delicate kiss and feminine sounds of desire became my undoing. With one final drive into her depths, I released every ounce of humanity inside of me that I hadn’t even known existed.

She had pulled the light from me, and destroyed the dark at that very moment.

Marlowe Masters was a lethal assassin.

A ruthless killer.

Chapter Fifteen

Marlowe

Normal. The perfect word to describe that very moment. Harley and I laid in bed, tangled in each other’s arms after sex like any normal couple would do. There was nothing dirty or taboo about the sex. There was nothing that pushed the limits. Just us, connecting.

As we laid there in his bed watching the moon shine through his window, I felt normal.

Rubbing my finger along his chest in tiny circles as I cuddled into the crux of his arm, I asked, “How were you able to find me?”

He remained silent for several moments. Maybe there were secrets or contacts he didn’t want to tell me.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” I said, not wanting to relive the nightmare again anyway. “All that matters is that you did.”

We laid there for a little bit longer as I traced patterns along all the tattoos on his arms, chest and stomach. There were so many, and they were all different. There was no theme, yet they all did seem to flow together perfectly. Skulls were all over his arms that matched the one with the red eyes on his neck. Crows flew across his heart, daggers stabbed at his ribcage, demons emerged from his lower abs. So many tattoos, and so many tales.

“I told you about my tattoo,” I said. Hell, I had told him more about me than I had ever told anyone. “It’s your turn. What do some of yours mean? Like the crows? You have so many flying across your chest.”

His voice was low and even as he spoke. “Each crow represents someone I killed that was difficult. That hurt me to do so.”

“Like people you knew?”

“Yes. People I knew but still had to die. I didn’t want to kill them, but felt I had no choice.”

“What made you kill that first person? That made you become the killer you are today?” I asked, not sure if I would get an answer.

“I don’t have an answer for that question to be honest.” Harley ran his hand along my outer arm and pulled me a little closer to his warmth. “Is there really a right answer for that? I could say it was because of the money, which is what killing ultimately became about. But what got me started? I’m not sure. And what keeps me going? I wonder that myself.”

“Who was your first kill?”

“A drug dealer who messed with a dirty cop. It was my first paid job. I didn’t get a job as a paper boy or at a fast food joint like other kids in my neighborhood. My first job was as a hired killer.”

“The dirty cop had you kill him?”

“Yes. The dirty cop was someone I owed. I was just a kid lashing out who had gotten into some trouble. That cop got me off the hook, but then it pretty much meant I became his bitch with all the rest of his bitches who helped him run his part of the streets. At the time, I didn’t mind. I liked being part of a family, no matter how fucked up that family was. I had no one else to count on. I bounced around from foster home to foster home all while knowing my drunk of a father didn’t give a fuck. So, that shithead of a cop made me at least feel needed, which was a hell of a lot more than my old man did.”

“So you killed for him?”

Harley nodded, still stroking me tenderly. “Whenever he asked, which was often. He was a callous man who taught me how to be one as well. But the money was good and the praise even better.”

“Was it hard?”

“At first. But it got easier with each pull of the trigger or stab of the knife. It got to a point where I didn’t even think about it. I was more focused on becoming tougher and more skilled than anyone else. My goal was to be the best. The best at something since I was pretty much a failure at everything else.”

“And you never felt guilty?”

“If you walk among the beasts of the underground, then you’ve done something to be knocking on death’s door. So, I saw it as I was simply killing a beast, not a human being. Deserving, though I never really used that word.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to describe why I killed.”

“Do you feel you deserve to die?” I asked.

“More than most,” was his simple answer.

“That’s a sad belief,” I mumbled, still feeling the need to be close to this man who all but admitted to being a killing machine with no remorse. “Do you still work for the dirty cop?”

“No. That ended a long time ago. I don’t work for anyone but myself.”

“Why? What happened?”

“He became one of the crows on my chest.”

I glanced down at the black ink, and felt nothing but sorrow for Harley’s past. What a lonely and dismal path he’d walked from such an early age.

I needed to ask a hard question, but one that was important for me to know. “Do you need to be on drugs or drunk to do all these things?”

Drug use and alcoholism was a hard limit for me. I couldn’t tolerate it in my life. It was the life I’d run from, and I didn’t even want to consider entering into it again. Insane that the fact that Harley was an assassin didn’t come into play, but this did. And why was I even asking? It wasn’t like Harley and I were having the relationship talk. I was just a girl he contracted with as part of a Tasting, but I still needed to know. My heart was crossing over that line. That hard, solid, and bold line that I never crossed. But I was with him. And before I allowed that to happen, I needed to know of what other demons this man had.

“Never. I will have to hand it to that cop. He wouldn’t allow shit like that from any of his men. He found you drunk or high and it meant a bullet right between the eyes. He taught me the art of perfection. You had to be sharp and aware at all times to achieve it, so booze and drugs were never allowed. I like a good vodka, but never in excess. I have too many damn enemies who could turn the corner at any second to risk being anything but sharp and aware at all times.” His hand stopped caressing my arm and moved to my hair. Slowly, he combed his fingers through the strands, cupping the back of my head every so often as he did so. “What about you? Do you use?”

“Never,” I said with maybe a little too much emphasis.

“The dying tree,” he said softly.

I nodded. “Yes, the dying tree.”

“That’s rare. In the world I live in, habits seem to be present in everyone.”

“Oh, I have habits,” I admitted. “To be honest, you have been one of them.” I couldn’t believe I was about to tell him this, but I felt like I could be free with my feelings with him after all we had just been through. I had met many people who didn’t judge, in fact, most people at Spiked Roses fell into the non judging category, but with Harley it seemed even more so. Like there wasn’t a thing I couldn’t tell him.

“I’ve been one of them?”

“I don’t know if you could call it a crush or just damn near stalking, but I literally could not stop watching you every night you were at the club. The only reason I really went to that Tasting was because I heard you would finally be at it. You never went, and well… I thought that maybe this could be my chance to have you notice me.”

His body tensed and his hand stopped the caress. “Why? Why me?”

I giggled and slapped his chest lightly. “Relax. I wasn’t looking for my baby daddy or anything. You simply fascinated me.”

Slowly picking up with his caressing and relaxing again, he said, “Well, I’m glad you did. When I went to the Tasting, I had no intention of actually contracting out with anyone. I don’t believe in mixing work with personal life, but then I saw you.”

“Saw me?” My heart flipped at the idea that he’d wanted me as I’d wanted him.

“Fucking stunning, was the first thought that came to mind,” he admitted. “Long black hair, black dress… you were a gothic masterpiece I just had to meet.”

I laughed hard. “I knew it! I knew you liked black. I begged Tennessee to allow me to wear black. He thought I would look like Elvira or something.”

Harley joined in with my laughter. “I happen to find Elvira hot.”

“Last time I listen to Tennessee.”

He stopped laughing, ran his hand down my back, and settled on the curve of my ass. “I find you so much hotter, however.”

“You just like your women dark.”

“I do. You rarely find women who are willing to play along the forbidden edge like you.” He slapped my ass hard, which had me gasping. “Why were you so willing? Was it just about the Tasting? Keeping with the theme?”

“I like the way the taboo makes me feel. Pushing the boundaries beyond just ordinary sex. Pain electrifies me,” I confessed. “There’s more animalistic desire present, and it completely turns me on. I love the feel of submission. It’s a sense of letting go of everything. Allowing myself to fall and knowing without a doubt that the dominant man I am giving myself to will catch me. Total abandon, and that is the feeling I crave. I’m not a missionary position, vanilla girl.”

“I’m not a missionary vanilla man either.”

“No,” I giggled. “I have never mistaken you for being one.”

He smacked my butt again, and ran his finger down the seam of my ass. Tingles ran from my head to my toes. I would have jumped his bones again right then and there, but he went back to the calming caressing of my hair and said, “Had I known how special you would be, I would have…” He sighed heavily. “I had no idea you would be more than just a fucking hot chick who I pictured myself balls deep in. You really surprised me.”

“You surprised me too. I didn’t expect you to be as nice as you are. As nurturing and caring. I guess I just expected you to be hard and cold the entire time. I didn’t think I would see this side of you.”

“What side is that?”

“The going to get beignets for breakfast side of you. I guess I thought you would just be an incredibly sexy as fuck asshole. But still an asshole.”

“I am an asshole.”

“Maybe, but so much more is in you. Whether you want to admit it or not, Harley Crow, you are a good guy.”

He sighed and seemed to stiffen ever so slightly. I could tell he didn’t like the compliment, and decided not to push it any further.

Yawning with heavy eyes, I asked, “Tell me about another tattoo.”

Harley positioned himself onto his side and looked down at me now lying flat on my back. Kissing me softly on the lips, he said, “Another time. I have more tattoos than I can count, and more stories than we have time for. You’ve had a long day and need your sleep.” He kissed me again on the lips, and then the forehead.

“Don’t leave me,” I said as sleep was setting in. “Sleep with me, please.”

Harley pulled up the blanket and tucked it under my chin as he brushed some loose hairs of mine from my face. “I’ll be here all night. You’re safe, Marlowe. Again, I’m so sorry for what happened. I’ve never been so sorry before in my life.”

He may have said more, but a thick layer of exhaustion set in, and all I could do was nod before drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Sixteen

Marlowe

I’d never gotten tucked in at night and kissed on the forehead as a little girl. I didn’t get hugs and kisses. Comfort didn’t come often. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t love me, but they weren’t that way. We didn’t speak the words of love, nor did we show it. Stoic maybe… regardless, I never got it. So, the sense of security and safety was always up to me. I had to feel it by my own means. Deep down, the emotions were mine to control. I didn’t have the aid of anyone else to help in delivering those feelings.

But then came Harley Crow. He hugged, he kissed, he tucked me in after our lovemaking, he comforted. He protected. He made me feel safe and secure when deep down, I was feeling anything but. And we had made love. I knew it. I felt it. I could see it in the way he looked down at me. He’d touched me like a man giving love, rather than satisfying sexual hunger. He’d given me exactly what I’d needed after the hellish ordeal of the kidnapping.

I was safe.

I was secure.

Harley Crow made damn sure of it.

I didn’t know how long I would stay living with him, but it felt right. I couldn’t picture leaving his house tucked away in the bayou ever again, and he didn’t make me feel as if I had to. Our contract was up. Our Sunday was spent in bed, sipping coffee by the pool, and we even went for a long boat ride down the channels of the swamp. It was casual. Simple. Easy. The day went fast and slipped through our fingers, yet I didn’t panic because it was all over. Usually when a contract was over, there was either a sense of relief or a sense of pity that it ended too soon because maybe there was still more to explore. A love story didn’t happen from a Tasting; it just wasn’t the way. And maybe that wasn’t what this was. Not a love story, but definitely a story. We had something. Some type of connection. I wasn’t blind or delusional. I wasn’t the crazy stalker who believed Harley cared when he didn’t. I knew better. There was something there. What exactly, I wasn’t sure. But there was something. Harley wouldn’t have saved me otherwise. He wouldn’t have kissed away my tears when I woke up from the bad dreams that awakened me in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t have held me protectively as I snuggled closer to his warmth, never feeling safer in my entire life. Harley wouldn’t have done any of those things if what we had was a simple contract. The contract was about fear. About pushing the boundaries of dark desires. It wasn’t about kisses, cuddles, and tender touches. Yes, there was more. So much more.

I was in Harley’s house and by his side because I chose to be, and he wanted it. He was protecting me, and I liked it. I liked it far more than I’d ever thought possible. I didn’t need a man. I never did. But I did need Harley. I did, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

My emotions and feelings were rushing in fast. They were building to more than just the lust I had for him at Spiked Roses. I didn’t love easily. I was not one to fall head over heels. But maybe life and death changed a person. Maybe I didn’t need to have my shield up anymore. Not when I had a warrior of Harley’s strength by my side.

Hopping out of bed, I felt so much better than I had when Harley first rescued me and brought me home. I hadn’t had any nightmares that I could remember last night. Harley’s arms wrapped around me had made sure of that. He was able to shield me even in sleep. Nothing could harm me again now that I was his to watch over. I knew it. I felt it deep in my gut. That feeling alone made the awful kidnapping and murder of Layla seem to lessen, and with time, I knew I wouldn’t allow it to consume my thoughts. It was a nightmare that was over. At least for me. Not poor Layla, however.

Harley didn’t want to talk about Layla. I could tell. I saw the pain in his eyes and the way he changed the direction of the conversation every time I tried to bring her up. He wasn’t ready, but neither was I. I wasn’t strong enough to be his pillar during what had to be an awful time for him. He had lost a friend in the most horrendous and gruesome of ways.

“Hey, what are you doing up so early?” Harley asked as he exited the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half. His wet hair hung limply on his forehead and around his ears, and I instantly wanted him back in the bed with me. “I was going to go and pick up some breakfast and bring it back to us before you woke.”

The idea of Harley leaving me again for breakfast made my stomach flip. Memories of the morning he had left to get beignets came washing in like a tidal wave. A shiver ran down my spine, and my hands trembled at my sides.

Walking over to me in long strides, Harley took me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. “Never again. I told you. You will never feel like your life is in danger again. I swear this to you.”

I nodded against his chest, inhaling the scent of soap and aftershave. “I know.” I pulled away and looked up at him. “Do you have anything in your kitchen? I could make us something. Eggs? Toast?” I really didn’t want him to leave.

He chuckled. “Do you really think I would?”

Smiling, I said, “I guess not. But why don’t you give me a little bit to get showered and dressed and we can go into town together to eat. I have to check in with Spiked Roses anyway. Tennessee is a stickler when it comes to reporting to duty after a Tasting. It’s his way of making sure we are all safe and in one piece both mentally and physically.”

An eyebrow rose, and a smirk on Harley’s delicious lips had me nearly swooning. “You do realize I’m an owner right? I think I have some pull over Mr. Tennessee Charles.”

I pulled away and started walking toward my bag to bring with me into the bathroom. “That’s what you think. Have you met Tennessee? That man will string me up by my toenails if I don’t follow his house rules. Sleeping with the owner won’t get me off the hook. That man will have no mercy, and I rather like my toes.” I walked toward the bathroom and stopped to look over my shoulder. “Twenty minutes, and I will be ready to go. Promise. I won’t take long.”

“Fifteen, or I’m coming in after you.”

“I may like that,” I said playfully with a wink.

Sauntering over with that impish smirk that I had grown to absolutely love, he took me by the arm, lifted the shirt of his I wore to sleep in, and swatted my ass hard. “Hurry up, or I’m going to fuck that tight little ass of yours until you scream out my name.”

I moaned and wiggled my ass. “Yes, please.”

He swatted me again even harder and then again. “Marlowe… we need food. And a tropical storm is supposed to hit today, so we need to not be out and about during it. If I have to come get you…”

“All right,” I said with a pout. “I’m going.”

My stomach growling had me rushing through my shower more than the threat of Harley coming in to get me. Luckily, it didn’t take me long to get ready. Pulling my hair up in a ponytail, and throwing on a black tank top and jeans, I was ready to start the day. I felt refreshed and so much better than I had after the nightmare from Saturday. Everything bad seemed to ease with every passing moment.

Not caring that my hair was still damp, I walked out of the bathroom. “Done. I bet that was less than fifteen minutes,” I called out playfully.

Looking around, I could see that Harley wasn’t in the room to see my momentous victory of time management. Playfully half-skipping barefoot to the living room, I was ready to boast the minute I saw him, but he wasn’t in there either, or the kitchen.

“Harley?” I called out.

Silence.

My heart thumped hard against my sternum as an old wound opened. Where was he?

“Harley?” I called again with a shaky voice as I returned to the living room.

Oh my God. What if those men had come back? What if others did? What if word had hit the streets where Harley lived and everyone wanted a piece of him?

Panic attacked as I scanned the living room for something to use as a weapon.

A large crash from the window facing the pool had me screaming out. Getting ready to flee, thinking someone was trying to break in through the window, I saw that it was just a broken limb banging against the glass. The storm was blowing in already, and the large gusts of wind outside had the patio furniture blowing around wildly as well. Looking down, I could see that one chair had even fallen into the pool.

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. Harley was probably just outside trying to tie things down before the storm damaged everything. Deciding to go out and help him, I walked toward the sliding glass door and froze in my spot.

Attempting to pull the chair out of the pool, was a ghost. Walking dead.

Layla.

Layla?

Layla!

As if I was walking under water, I somehow walked out of the house and down the stairs to where she struggled with the piece of furniture. The wind whipped around us, and the howling only matched the ringing in my ears. Was I actually seeing her standing before me? This had to be a mistake. There was no way. I had to be seeing things. Maybe I wasn’t healing and doing as well as I had thought. Maybe I was snapping. This was the beginning of a nervous breakdown.

“Layla?” I called out against the wind, expecting the vision to disappear the minute I spoke out to her.

She spun around and dropped the chair that she nearly had fished out of the pool back into the water. Her eyes were wide and mouth opened even wider.

It was her.

It was her!

“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “You were dead. You were dead! I saw you!”

Her eyes went from staring at me, to staring over my shoulder. Large hands were placed on my shoulder from behind, and I turned my head to see Harley standing there with sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Layla said. “I thought you guys were done yesterday. I came back last night. I wouldn’t have if I had known.”

Harley raised his hand to silence her. “It’s all right.”

“What do you mean it’s all right? What the hell is going on?” I screamed. “I thought she was dead!” I spun around to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me she survived?”

I looked back at Layla and examined her body. She didn’t look like she had been harmed at all. There had been so much blood. She should have not been standing there without a mark on her with all that blood. There were no gashes, no scrapes, nothing.

She swallowed hard, and couldn’t make eye contact with me. “I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

“You only did what I asked,” Harley said.

Layla glanced up at me. “I… I’m sorry I scared you. If I could take it all back…”

Harley started pulling me toward the house. “It’s okay, Layla. I got this. Go inside before the storm gets any worse.”

Still confused, but not liking the sick feeling and the weakness in my knees, I broke away from Harley’s hold. “What the fuck is going on? Why is she alive? Why didn’t you tell me she was alive?”

“Let me explain,” Harley began, but I could see it in his eyes. There was so much shame. So much fucking shame!

“Did you fake her death?” I turned to see Layla walking quickly back to the pool house. “Why would you do such a thing?”

The memories of that awful morning came flooding in like a damn tsunami. Layla had been covered in blood lying lifeless on the floor. And if she hadn’t been dead, why wouldn’t she have helped me from—

No.

No!

“Was this all some sort of sick game?”

Harley closed the distance between us and grabbed my upper arms. “Let’s go inside out of this weather, and I’ll explain everything.”

I shoved him hard so I could break away from his touch. “No! Tell me now. What the fuck is going on? Tell me now!”

The wind picked up even more as if jealous that my rage was more powerful than it. Harley shook his head, put his hands in his pockets, and sighed so deeply that I could hear it even over the sounds of the storm.

“Yes, it was all a sick game.” His locked eyes on mine felt like two hot pokers stabbing at my gut. “I’m so sorry, Marlowe.”

“The kidnapping?” I asked.

“Part of the game.”

“A game! A game! Were you part of my kidnapping? Did you know those men? Lukas?”

“It was staged. Those men were people who owed me favors, and I paid them to do it. You were never in any real danger, but I just wanted you to believe you were. Nothing was going to happen to you. Layla was only pretending to be dead to add to your fear. The blood wasn’t real. The enemies weren’t real. None of it was real. It was just a warped and messed up role play that I seriously wish I’d never arranged.”

Hunching over, needing to place my hands on my knees so I could somehow get some air to my lungs, I squeaked out, “Why? Why would you do something like that? Why?” I wheezed in and out as my vision blurred.

“Because I’m a sick motherfucker. We were playing a game. Who’s Afraid of the Dark? I wanted to really scare you. You said you didn’t scare, and I wanted to prove you wrong. Maybe it was the challenge. I don’t know. This was part of my plan for the Tasting. I wanted to smell the real fear on you to get off. And with you, it would have been even better because I had to work so hard to achieve the fear. That was the intention, but it was so fucking wrong. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I see that now. I saw it the minute I saw your frightened body tied to that chair. But it was too late. I had fucked up. I’m a sick monster. I’m sorry.”

I stood up with renewed strength as fury coursed through my veins. “No! No! No!” I charged him and shoved him in the chest, forcing him to take a few steps backwards. “You don’t get to play the victim by calling yourself names. You don’t get to say sorry. You don’t get to do a fucking thing!” I screamed. “I get to call you a sick monster! How dare you! How could you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I have no excuse. I went too far.”

“And then you led me to believe you saved me?” I added in disbelief. “Why? To continue the sick game? Did you want me to fall for you? Was that your plan? To make me fall in love with you so you could destroy me? Did you want to hurt me too?”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t my plan at all. I didn’t think this through. I didn’t expect that you and I… that there would be so much more.”

“Fuck you!” I screamed as bile built in the back of my throat. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare make it seem like we had something more. This was a dark and twisted game to you. So cruel. You are a bad man, Harley. Worse than I could have ever imagined.”

“I know,” he agreed.

“Were you behind the glass the entire time? With Lukas?”

He nodded and looked down at the ground again in shame.

“So you saw me? You saw how afraid I was? You just sat there while I begged? For hours I sat there fearing for my life. Fearing that I would be raped and tortured. How could you do that to me? How could you do that to anyone? You were there the entire time and could have ended it when you saw what it was doing to me, but you never did.”

He said nothing as my rage surged to a higher degree as the memories of what happened forced their way through the wall I had recently built to hold them at bay. It was all fake, like a horror movie, yet I’d had no idea. I’d truly thought every single second of it was real. Even thinking back, I couldn’t see any hints of any kind that I now realized was part of the game. Everything had been so real. This was far beyond a kidnap and capture fantasy play.

“You watched them cut my clothes off. You watched that man spank me, touch me, violate me!”

“And it destroyed me to see that. I didn’t expect it to. I wanted to cut the man’s hands off for doing so, which was something I wasn’t expecting. I didn’t want anyone else touching you except for—”

“You?” I snapped. “Because what? You felt as if I was yours? Did the barbaric thought of ‘mine’ go through your mind?” I could barely breathe or see. I had never felt so angry in my life. The pure magnitude of it caused me to teeter between insanity and reality.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I believed you to be mine. I’ve never felt that way before, and didn’t know how to handle it or what the fuck to do with it.”

I laughed out loud, the sound tortured and maddening, blending with the roaring wind that whipped around. “Yours. Ha!” I shoved him hard in the chest, causing him to take another step back. “And yet, you still watched. You still allowed me to sit in that room alone and scared. Is that what you did?”

He nodded again and slowly raised his eyes to meet mine.

“Did it make your dick hard?” I said between clenched teeth. “Answer me, you disgusting motherfucker! Answer me! Did it make you want to fuck me even more?”

“Marlowe, please,” he said as he took a step toward me. “At least go inside. It’s not safe out here with things blowing around. I’ll answer all your questions and do whatever I can to make this right. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I would take it all back if I could.” Branches flew through the air, and a tree snapped in the distance. “But it’s not safe out here. We need to get inside.”

“It’s not safe with you!” I said, taking a few steps back, not wanting to be near him at all. “I want to leave now. Get me the fuck out of here.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you back right now.”

“Not you!” I screamed. “I don’t want you ever to be near me again! Asshole!” I glanced over at the pool house. “Have your fucked up pawn drive me back to the city. Don’t you ever come near me again, or I will have your ass arrested. I mean it, Harley. Stay the fuck away from me.” I charged past him. “I’ll be at the boat waiting.”

Before I could get inside, Harley reached for my arm to pull me back toward him. “Marlowe, listen.”

I jerked my arm away with so much force that I almost tumbled forward. “RED, motherfucker. RED!”

Chapter Seventeen

Harley

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?” Matthew asked as he stood at the head of the table where Kenneth normally stood to conduct the emergency managing members’ meeting.

All the men stared at me with surprise, confusion, and even anger in their eyes. Normally, their looks would be reason enough for me to kill, but I deserved them and so much more.

“Please tell me what Tennessee just told us is not true,” Matthew said with his hands splayed on the conference table, leaning toward me with piercing eyes.

“It’s true,” I admitted. “All of it.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Roman said. “That was about the most fucked up thing I have ever heard of.”

“I agree,” Victor added. “That girl feared for her life. She thought it was all real.”

“And now we can get our asses sued and even in trouble with the law over this. And Kenneth is in Europe on vacation and can’t be here to help us muddle through all the legal shit.”

“I’m not going to pull you guys into this,” I said. “This is my problem. I’ll take whatever ramifications come from this on me solely. I’ll leave Spiked Roses out of it.”

“But Spiked Roses is part of it whether we want it to be or not. This was all because of the Tasting that we hosted,” Matthew countered. “It’s a fucking mess.”

“Is Marlowe threatening a lawsuit?” Alec asked. “How much is this going to cost us to make it go away?”

“She hasn’t mentioned anything,” Matthew said. “Tennessee just said that she is shaken up and spitting nails.” He looked me squarely in the eyes. “You took it too far. This went far beyond sexual dark play, Harley.”

I nodded. “I know. Trust me, I fucking know!” I took a drink of vodka, wishing I had the entire bottle in front of me. “I’m not going to excuse what I did. I fucked up. And if I could make it right with her, I would. I would do whatever she asks. And she won’t have to sue, because I will pay her whatever she wants. There isn’t anything I won’t do that she wants.”

“I’m not a lawyer or anything,” Victor said with his expression softening, “but technically per the contract, Harley didn’t break it. It states in the contract kidnap and rape fantasy. He didn’t do any of her hard limits, and she never screamed RED. So technically—”

“Yeah, but that’s fucked up,” Roman said, still obviously pissed. “It’s not like she knew that saying RED at that point was even an option. What he did went way above and beyond role playing.”

Victor nodded. “I’m just saying that technically—”

“I fucked up. Yes, I didn’t break the contract. And yes, that was my thinking when I first set it all up. I knew the game I was playing, and even hinted at not stopping until I heard the word RED, as if taunting her,” I said. “But Marlowe had no idea she was still part of Who’s Afraid of the Dark? and I damn well knew it. And what’s even worse is that afterwards, once I rescued her, I allowed us to connect. There was an intimacy between us that I never expected. I allowed her to believe that there was something more between us. I fucked with her mind, I lied to her, and then I allowed her to get even closer with me all based around lies. I’m a fucking asshole, and I know it. What is even more fucked in all this… there really was something there. That girl gripped my heart and fucking squeezed.”

“You care about her?” Roman asked, still scowling.

“As hard as that may be for you all to believe, yes. Head over fucking heels, and the fear of losing that is why I didn’t come clean right away. I didn’t know how to. I couldn’t process everything I was feeling, and the vibes I was getting from her. It doesn’t excuse this at all. But, yes, I fucking fell hard, and I wanted to go back in time and change everything.”

“Were you going to try to hide it?” Victor asked.

“Maybe,” I confessed. “I don’t know. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I just wanted to stop time, keep her with me, and not have to face the fucked up reality I’d created.”

“So now what?” Lennon asked.

Matthew shrugged. “We wait. We have to see what Marlowe is going to do and what she wants. I don’t want to pull Kenneth and Anita back from their trip unless we absolutely need to.”

“There’s no need,” I reassured. “I’ll handle this on my own. I’ll face whatever consequence comes from this without pulling any of you into my crap. This is my shit to clean up.” I looked each man in the eye. “I’m sorry to all of you. I can’t defend my actions, nor am I going to try. Just know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that Marlowe never has to feel the pain that I put her through again. And if you all want me to sell my share of Spiked Roses, I will.”

“Fuck that,” Victor said. “We’ve all fucked up, and we would all be hypocrites if we made you do that.”

The others nodded, though they still appeared angry.

“Let’s just give Marlowe whatever assistance she needs in getting through this,” Matthew said.

“Where is she now?” I asked.

“With Tennessee. The storm is picking up speed, and we’ve issued a lockdown for the staff who are here, and suggested the members who are here wait the storm out at Spiked Roses as well,” Matthew explained. “We don’t want anyone to leave now. It’s too dangerous for people to be trying to get home. They all have to stay here and wait out the storm. I hope all you stubborn fuckers do as well.” He then looked at me. “Let this play out, Harley. Hopefully, when Marlowe calms down, we can assess where her head is in all this. But fuck, dude. Stay the fuck away from her tonight. Based on what Tennessee said, and what I can only imagine, that chick will murder your ass if she even gets a glimpse of you.”

“I would deserve it.”

“All right, gentlemen,” Matthew said as he broke his stare with me. “Can we all for the love of God behave until Kenneth returns? I can’t deal with this shit. Go drink your booze, keep your hands to yourself, and go be the gentlemen I know you all not to be. Go fake your asses off.”

Chapter Eighteen

Marlowe

“Nothing hurts more than the pain of love, sugar,” Tennessee said as he held my hand as I sat crumpled on the staff room bathroom floor.

“Fuck that,” I said. “I didn’t love him.”

“Maybe not yet, but you could see it happening or this wouldn’t hurt so much. He crushed a dream of yours. He gave you just enough of a peek to rip your soul out.”

“No, he kidnapped me! That fucking asshole kidnapped me.” I swiped at the tears that had been streaming down my face for the past two hours since arriving at Spiked Roses in a heated rage.

Tennessee squeezed my hand and pulled his knees closer to his chest. He too sat on the bathroom floor next to me as I sobbed. “Those tears are not because of what he did. Those tears are because what he did ended what could have been. You are mourning the possible future you could have had.”

“No,” I mumbled, though his words only made me cry harder. “I hate him.”

“Yes, but hate and love can be the same thing at times.”

“Fine. Fuck! I fell hard,” I admitted. “I really thought he cared. I’m not the fool. I’m not the girl who falls in love and gets fooled by the prick.” I punched my leg and threw my head back against the tiled wall. “But clearly I am. I’m the biggest fool of them all. It was all a game. It was just one fucked up Tasting contract. And the fucked up thing is, he didn’t do anything wrong in the technical sense. The terms of the contract clearly stated he could push the boundaries of fear. And he fucking did. He fucking did!”

Tennessee nodded. “But let’s really be honest here, girl. He pushed the boundaries for you in more ways than just fear. You are sitting here right now hurting from a broken heart. Not just because he had you tied to a chair fearing for your life.”

“Which is crazy. Who in their right mind falls for a fucking assassin in a period of a weekend? I knew what this was all about when I agreed to the Tasting. It was Harley Crow, and I knew his reputation. The man didn’t even know who I was. Why did I think just because he knew how to fuck, and how to make me feel like the most desirable woman in the world, that I would be anything different to the man? I’m not a stupid girl. At least I never was before him.”

“You aren’t a stupid girl. And my guess is there was more of a connection as you said for him as well. The fact that he is here in the club right now, tells me he cares. He could just be home waiting out this storm like any smart man would do. But he’s here instead,” Tennessee said.

“He’s here?” I asked as I looked up. “Why in the hell would he be here?”

Tennessee shrugged. “Well the man did fuck up pretty royally. You could sue the fucking shit out of this place if you wanted.”

“I would never do that,” I said softly. “I signed that contract. He followed all the terms. He didn’t do any of my hard limits, and I never did say the word RED… well, only after the fact and when I left. But fuck! It was so fucking fucked up! What kind of monster would do such a thing to a woman?”

“Harley Crow,” Tennessee answered. “But you already knew he was the monster. That mysterious element to him is what fascinated you the most. He just proved it to you.”

I continued to cry and just rested my head on my knees, wishing it would all go away. There was so much pain. So much pain that I could barely breathe.

“I need to just go home.” I started to stand, and Tennessee pulled me back down toward where he was sitting on the tiled bathroom floor, attempting to comfort me in all my grief.

“No. Not now. That storm is being upgraded to a category one hurricane. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not far.”

“I wasn’t asking. I was telling.” Tennessee’s sympathetic expression that had been on his face changed to his familiar firm one when he was making it clear that he was damn serious, and his words better be understood and followed.

“And do what? Sit here and cry in the bathroom the rest of the day and night? I’m not scheduled to work tonight, and I seriously doubt there will be any customers. I just need to sleep and pretend this awful weekend never existed.”

“This wasn’t my dictate. The managing members made this call. They were the ones to tell me to issue a lockdown and not to allow anyone to leave. So, you can give me the big puppy dog eyes all you want. Not my call.”

“Please, Tennessee. Will you please go talk to them? They fucking owe me for not suing their asses. Threaten that I will if you have to. I just want to go home and come back tomorrow as if nothing ever happened. I want it all to go away, and as long as I sit here, the pain of what happened is going to swallow me up.”

He took a deep breath and rose awkwardly from the ground. He moaned as he rubbed his lower back. “Fine. I’ll go talk to them and see if someone can take you back. Maybe security or something.” He walked toward the bathroom door and turned to look at me. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to feel the way you do.”

He exited the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving me with nothing but my sick and twisted thoughts. I did deserve these feelings. I fucking deserved every single one. I was the insane woman who lusted after a man who might as well be the damn Devil. I was the one who’d arrogantly signed a contract agreeing to the darkest sexual play one could think of with the belief that there was nothing Harley could do that would break me. I’d even taunted him that he wouldn’t be able to do so. I’d walked into that Hell of my own accord, thrown down the gauntlet, and lost. That’s what makes this all hurt so much. I lost in every way. I’d also read the situation completely wrong. I’d thought there was more. I actually had forgotten the contract was even in place. Harley had made me forget about everything.

And now all I had was pain. Deep, raging pain. It had to stop. I had to make it stop.

Walking over to the cabinet beneath the sink, I opened it knowing already what the contents inside would be. Tennessee kept travel size deodorants, tampons, lotions, baby wipes, toothpaste and toothbrushes, floss, mouthwash and razors. Razors to shave your legs or armpits in a rush if somehow you forgot, or if you needed to rid unwanted hair around the bikini line to put on a costume for an event that you weren’t prepared for. Disposable razors for ridding unwanted hair.

Disposable razors for ridding unwanted pain.

“Do you have scars on your heart as well?”

“Not yet.”

Scars on your heart, Harley had asked. Scars on your heart.

Yes, I did. I fucking did.

Without even thinking, and without even focusing on how I managed to do so, I suddenly had a broken razor cast to the side but a tiny razor blade resting between my index finger and thumb. I remembered the familiar feeling of the blade in my fingers and how I would shake while making the first cut. I always shook before the first cut, but then the shaking eased as my pain did. But this time, my hand didn’t shake.

It didn’t shake.

Again, without thinking, almost as if I were swimming underwater in a thick and dark current, I sat back down on the ground with my jeans pulled down to my ankles. Spreading my legs, I looked down at the old wounds on my inner thighs. Wounds that had healed. I would heal again. Someday, but not today. Today, I had to ease the pain.

First cut.

The long lost biting sting was quickly followed by a rush of relief. It was so powerful that I gasped as the pain squeezed out of me through that tiny line of blood.

Second cut.

Third cut.

Fourth cut.

Tears ran down my face not out of pain, but out of solace. Deliverance of darkness always brought me to the light.

Fifth cut.

I had forgotten. Forgotten the feel as the demons sizzled beneath the surface of my skin, clawing their way out with each slice of the razor blade.

“Do you have scars on your heart as well?”

“Not yet.”

Sixth cut.

Freedom. Escape from the suffocating pain. The out of control spiral.

Seventh cut.

I was in control. I was fucking back in control.

Eighth cut.

Ninth cut.

Tenth cut.

Done.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the cool wall as the air of the room licked my wounds, intensifying the burn. The trickle of blood that ran down my inner thighs reminded me of a warm soothing bath. The sting of the tiny wounds was like an ointment to my shattered heart—it burned for a moment but would soon make the hurt go away.

“Do you have scars on your heart as well?”

No, was the answer now. Scabs. Only scabs that would soon be picked off.

Harley would soon be nothing but a scab.

Chapter Nineteen

Harley

Tennessee wouldn’t even look me in the eye. I didn’t blame him. Who would want to look at evil in the purest form?

“She wants to leave,” he said to all of us as we were starting to get up from the meeting.

Matthew looked up from collecting his stack of papers. “Who?”

“Marlowe,” Tennessee said. “I know you want everyone to stay put, but she’s not in a good place and wants to get home.”

“There’s a hurricane hitting outside. We aren’t going to let anyone go out there and risk being hit by a tree or something,” Alec said.

“It’s not that bad yet,” Tennessee argued as he glanced my way quickly with daggers in his eyes. “And after what she’s been through, I really feel we should give the poor girl what she wants. I wouldn’t want to be here next to…” Tennessee glared at me. “To be reminded of what happened this weekend.”

“I’ll take her home,” I offered which had every man looking at me in disbelief.

“I think you’ve done enough,” Tennessee snapped.

“I don’t think you’re the best man for the job,” Matthew said.

“Yeah, I think the last person she wants to see is you,” Prince Roman agreed.

I glared at each man who spoke as a silent warning for them to shut the fuck up. I knew what I’d done. I knew what I’d done was wrong. And I allowed each man to say and look at me as they chose without penalizing them for doing so. I was an ass, and they had every right to think so. But I did not, nor would I ever ask permission to do anything. I was my own man and made every choice on my own. Wrong or right.

“Do not be mistaken, gentlemen,” I seethed. “I was not asking for permission. I was simply telling you what I would do. And I will do it.”

“Marlowe is in a bad place,” Tennessee countered, surprising me with his bravery. I was still Harley Crow after all, and my reputation and my past had still not changed. I had killed men for fewer reasons than foolishly standing up to me or against me.

“I understand that. She’s there because of me,” I said in a calm and even tone, though forewarning was definitely present. “So, it is my responsibility to take her home if that’s what she wants to do. It’s the least I can fucking do.”

“There’s a damn hurricane outside,” Victor reminded. “Why don’t we all just sit and get a drink. Let it pass. Buy Marlowe a stiff one to calm her nerves.”

“Take me to her now,” I said to Tennessee, ignoring Victor completely.

“There’s no way she’s going to let you in that bathroom,” Tennessee continued to argue, though I could see he was losing some of that steel in his spine.

“Then you open it for me,” I snapped with venomous danger seeping through my words.

Without saying another word, Tennessee spun on his heels and began walking toward the staff room where Marlowe was. I could tell he wasn’t happy, and he never looked back at me as I followed, nor slowed his pace so I could catch up to him. I didn’t care, however. All I cared about right now was getting Marlowe home safely.

When we entered the staff room and then reached the closed bathroom door, Tennessee scowled at me as he knocked on the door.

“Marlowe? Can I come inside?” he asked as he knocked softly again.

We waited, but heard no response.

Tennessee knocked again. “Marlowe, let me in.”

Again, no response.

Tennessee went to open the door with a furrowed brow. He looked at me. “Wait right here. Let me make sure she’s decent. And like I said before, I seriously doubt she is going to want to see you.”

Without waiting for an answer, Tennessee cracked the door open just enough for him to squeeze inside, quickly snapping it shut behind him. I was losing my patience quickly, but tried to also understand that the man was only trying to put Marlowe’s feelings first.

“Oh dear Jesus,” I heard Tennessee say from the other side of the door. The man was afraid. I could hear it. Hell, I could damn near feel it.

It was all I needed for a surge of panic to pump through my veins and force me to open the door wide as I barged in.

“Marlowe…” I barely whispered on an exhale.

In my life, I had seen some gruesome acts. Bloody bodies, severed limbs, blank and lifeless eyes staring back at me. I had seen more blood covering the walls of a room than I thought could possibly come from a human body. I had seen men tortured while they pleaded and begged for their lives—their agonizing screams vibrating my bones. Nothing made my stomach clench, or forced me to ever look away. Heartless and cold were survival mechanisms that I had mastered. Callous and merciless had become my tools.

But not now.

Nothing could have prepared me for the crushing terror that attacked. No torture could have matched the agonizing misery that nearly suffocated me as I stood in that tiny bathroom.

Marlowe laid on the tiled floors with blood running down her legs and dripping on the ceramic. Her jeans were bunched at her ankles, and her pink panties were her only clothing concealing her bottom half. Slice after slice, her creamy white skin was now marred by bloody lines. A tiny razor blade lay next to her—the culprit of the crime.

“Oh, sugar. Why in the world?” Tennessee said as he went to where Marlow slumped half conscious against the wall and took her into his arms.

With long strides, I went to the sink and reached for a bunch of paper towels. I ran them under the water as I watched Tennessee rock Marlowe’s body with his as he kissed the top of her head. She appeared so broken, yet so calm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I had to release the pain.”

Her fragile words seized my heart like a fucking vise. No punishment for my misdeeds could be worse than those soft and sorrowful words.

Bending down between her legs, I brought the wet towels to the blood on her wounds to try to clean up the area enough to see if any of her cuts needed stitches or medical care. Hopefully, they were superficial and wouldn’t require a trip to the emergency room. It did surprise me, however, that Marlowe didn’t try to hit me away or demand for me to leave. I had expected rage, but as I glanced up to look at her, I saw her looking at me with tears in her eyes. No anger. No fury like the last I had seen on her face and in her deep brown eyes when she had ridden off with Layla from my dock.

Just tears and pain now.

I much preferred the storm to the aftermath.

Although in her pain, I saw so much beauty. She had a damaged soul that I could connect to. I realized it there, that very moment, why this woman had such a massive hold over my entire being. It was the shadows that lurked behind the surface that pulled me in. I wanted nothing more but to be swathed in the warmth of that black blanket that lurked beneath her heart. I wanted that part of her she tried to hide and conceal. And right there, as she bled on the ground, I saw Marlowe Masters completely exposed… and I fucking loved it. I understood it.

Not being able to look into her eyes any longer in fear that I would cross the line and make her shut me out, I continued to dab at her cuts, feeling relief when I realized the blood was far worse than the actual wounds that caused it. It appeared that the ten slices were not deep enough to give me reason to seek medical care. Clearly, this poor wounded bird knew what she was doing. She had clearly mastered this skill.

“They’re shallow cuts,” I informed Tennessee who watched me with worry as I cleaned and examined.

Marlowe tried to close her legs then to hide the evidence of her sorrow, but I wouldn’t allow it. I wanted to get her as clean as I could. Maybe if I wiped the blood away long enough, I could wipe away the cuts and the torment that had caused them.

Tennessee still held Marlowe close. Her head rested on his chest as she watched my every move.

“Girl, I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking. I swear to God, child, if you ever pull a stunt like this again…” Tennessee’s voice cracked, and I saw his eyes glass over. “I will beat your Latina ass until—”

“You should have used that razor on me,” I said softly, locking eyes with Marlowe again. “Not you.”

Her expression didn’t change. She only stared at me with zero anger in her eyes. I was so close to her, yet so very far away. I couldn’t read her. Had she run away from the connection I was positive we had shared? Was she gone? I wasn’t sure if it was possible to chase her down, but I damn well would try.

I stood from my crouch and threw away the bloody towels. Reaching down for Marlowe’s arm, I said softly, “Let me take you home.”

I expected outrage and a slew of curse words, but was surprised when all I got was a slight nod of her head as she reached down for her pants to pull them up.

Both Tennessee and I assisted her in standing and covering her lower half. She had lost enough blood that I worried her standing too fast would cause her to faint, so I kept a firm hold of her arm, pulling her against my side to lean on for support. Again, I was happily surprised that she didn’t try to fight me off.

As she buttoned her jeans with her tiny fingers, she looked up at me with her big wide eyes. “Why?”

Why what?

Why was I an asshole?

Why did I do the awful things I did?

Why was I even in this bathroom thinking I had the right to breathe the same air as the most incredible woman I had ever met?

Why was I feeling the way I was?

Why was my heart beating so hard that its beat ricocheted off my inner ears?

Why did I want to cradle this woman in my arms, never to let her go?

Why did I want to protect her?

Why did I never want her to feel fear and pain again?

Why did, for the first time in my life, I want to be a better man? A man deserving of Marlowe Masters.

Why?

Why?

“I have no excuses worthy of an answer,” was all I could say as a thick lump formed in the back of my throat. If I could have ripped out my heart and placed it on her delicate palm, I would have.

“Are you all right with going home with Harley?” Tennessee asked as he held her free hand in his. I could see that Tennessee had let go of the majority of his anger and disgust with me that I had read on him earlier.

She nodded as she looked at Tennessee and then the bloody floor. “I’m sorry. Let me clean—”

“Just go home,” Tennessee interrupted. “I got this. Go home and heal. Heal however you need to.” He reached for her chin and squeezed gently, forcing her to stare at him directly in the eyes. “Never again. Do you hear me? Never again. You battle those demons in another way.”

I wanted to pick her up and cradle her softly in my arms, but I also knew that she wouldn’t want the unwanted attention from others as I carried her through the club. So cautiously, preparing for her to completely unleash on me at any moment, I guided her out of the bathroom, the staff room, and Spiked Roses without saying goodbye to anyone. At this moment, no one and nothing mattered except Marlowe. I didn’t deserve her forgiveness nor did I expect it, but I did want to make sure she was safe and comfortable. Maybe it was possible to somehow take away the pain and hurt I had caused.

Fuck! If I had only realized how much pain I would cause. This had nothing to do with fear, control or dominance. This had nothing to do with the Tasting. I’d damaged an innocent girl who deserved so much better.

Like the emotions storming inside of me, walking outside was the same. The wind pounded against us with so much force that it caused Marlowe to stumble back, forcing me to wrap my arm tighter around her as we ran toward the waiting town car. I felt bad risking the driver’s life being out in this mess, but he had insisted when I offered to drive the car myself. He had worked for me for many years, and he didn’t consider this mission any more dangerous than the others he had driven me to and from.

Once we were in the safety of the back seat, I turned to face Marlowe. Her long hair was tousled from the storm, but her eyes were steady and collected. She was no longer the woman who had raged at me near my pool after learning of the betrayal.

“What’s the address to your place?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to go back there.”

“You don’t? Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t feel like facing the other girls and Marie. I just don’t.”

Glancing outside to see that the storm was picking up speed with each passing moment, and knowing we didn’t have a lot of time to sit and chat about where we would go, I offered, “My house?”

She nodded, though appeared sad with that decision. “Do we have time to get there by the boat? Will we be safe?”

“Yes, we have time. And yes, we will be safe. I’ll make sure of it.” I reached for her hand and held it in mine, again waiting for her to pull it away and was pleased when she didn’t. “Are you sure? I can get you a hotel room or something.”

She looked down at our intertwined hands, and then out the window at the entrance of Spiked Roses. The purple and green flags whipped around, shredding slightly with the force of the wind.

“I just want to feel safe. And for some crazy reason, you make me feel safe,” she said as she continued to stare out the window emotionless. “Your house makes me feel safe.”

For the first time since the revelation of my sinful act, I felt a ray of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could fix what I had so royally fucked up. She held my hand rather than punched me with it. She sat next to me rather than ran. She was talking rather than screaming. And she wanted me… even needed me, to make her feel safe.

I knocked on the glass that separated us between the driver and issued the destination, still refusing to release her hand. If the connection were to be broken, it would have to be Marlowe’s choice, for if I had it my way, I would never let go of her hand again.

Chapter Twenty

Marlowe

I’d hated my mother sometimes while growing up. Or at least at the time, I’d thought I did. I couldn’t understand why she would forgive my father for all the shit he put her through. Drunken fights, drug and booze parties being held without notice at all hours of the nights, indiscretions, disappearing for days with no explanation as to why, and so many other things that would make any sane woman pack her bags and leave. But not my mother. She always stayed. She always stood by his side, offering complete forgiveness even when the bastard never offered an apology, nor a promise to change. I’d thought she was weak, and it had made me hate her.

I had become my mother. I was weak—far weaker than she had ever been.

Any sane woman would never forgive a man who did what Harley had done. His cruel act deserved no redemption. That same sane woman definitely wouldn’t hop in a car, and then a boat, and then walk back into the exact house where the awful act had occurred. And yet, there I was. Back in Harley’s entryway, kicking off my shoes by the door as if we had just hit the restart button, about to reenact a new version of our reality.

Was that even possible? Could I just hit the restart button? Did one even exist? Maybe my mother had found that button. Maybe that restart button was called love.

Love.

Fuck love. Fuck trying to define what that really meant and how it looked.

Did I love Harley Crow?

Who cared? Did it matter?

I was there—standing in his isolated house in the bayou willing to forgive.

Love?

I had also hated my best friend in high school, Veronica Smith, sometimes because she always fell in love—so easily and so quickly. She could go on one date and then come to me gushing about how she knew the boy she had just met was the one. Insta love was about as real as a damn unicorn, and I’d hated that she was foolish enough to believe in it. Love didn’t happen at first sight. Love didn’t happen because of one night. Love didn’t happen over a weekend. Love was something you had to work your ass off for, and maybe never actually truly feel in a lifetime. Or at least that was what I’d once believed. Insta love made you foolish, just as forgiveness made you weak.

My mother was weak.

My best friend was foolish.

I’d hated these women at times in my life for possessing those traits.

Yet, I was now both. Weak and foolish.

“Can I get you something to drink? Wine?” Harley asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I glanced around as if expecting to see some change in his house. The only difference was the violent storm outside the large picture windows of the living room.

“Yes,” I answered, realizing it was the first word I had spoken since leaving the car. I had remained silent the entire boat ride.

Contemplating. Contemplating what the weekend had meant, and what it would mean for the future. Harley was there with me. He’d driven that boat and taken me back to his place as if that were the only option. He had cleaned up my blood as I had laid destroyed on the bathroom floor. And I realized that it was at that very moment that I’d forgiven him.

One look was all it took.

One look from Harley Crow, and I was willing to be weak and foolish for the man.

As I’d sat there with my legs spread, blood dripping from my cuts of release, and allowing a darkness to return that I had believed I had vanquished away forever, Harley’s eyes had connected with mine. He had looked at me with compassion and understanding rather than pity or repulsion. If anything, it appeared as if he welcomed my demons rather than shaming them away.

My demons danced with his. A morbid tango of torment and terror had occurred that very moment our eyes had locked. He got me. I got him. Flawed in the worst of ways, yet our darkness blended so perfectly.

I would forgive Harley Crow because it was the only way to forgive myself.

Harley walked over to his bar like he had done a few days ago. Reminding me again of that restart button. I wondered if it were truly possible to hit it like my mother had done so many times. And if I did restart from the beginning, what would I do differently? Well… definitely not fucking get kidnapped. That was for damn sure. But then it dawned on me that I wouldn’t change what I had done with Harley or take away the conversations we had had. I wouldn’t have altered one thing about the intimacy and the connection I knew we had developed in such a short time. I wouldn’t have changed my deep feelings for this man before me.

What about the game? Harley claimed he was sorry and would take it all back if he could. But would I, if I had the power of the restart button?

Did the fake kidnapping make those intense feelings I had for him happen? Would that connection we had formed even have existed had it not been for reaching the brink of insanity but then having someone pull you off the ledge?

Would I change a thing, or simply allow exactly what had occurred to happen again?

“Here you go,” Harley said as he handed me the wine. He had his classic vodka in his other hand and led me to the couch where we had sat before.

Walking down the same path…

Once we sat, Harley looked at me with intense eyes. He watched me, his eyes slicing through the shallow exterior shell I had created since being hurt by his betrayal. Just like all the times before, he watched. Those familiar eyes that I had desperately wanted to notice me were doing exactly that—he finally noticed me.

“There was a time in my life that I believed I was invincible,” Harley began. “I think it was because I didn’t fear death. Which many people in my sick circle boasted about, but the truth of the matter was that if they were staring down the barrel of a gun, they would piss themselves and sob like a baby. I truly didn’t care about death, however, but not out of bravery like other men in my world liked to believe. I think I wanted to die in a way. I didn’t really see the difference between living and dying. It all seemed the same. Pointless, meaningless. It made me cocky and arrogant. I believed no gun, no blade, and no person could destroy me.” He paused for several moments as if he was diving into his thoughts to yank out his truth from a locked away box. “You destroyed me, Marlowe.”

I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes as I sipped my wine as my only response. I didn’t get the feeling he was blaming me for anything, but simply stating a fact. And though this man had lied to me, and I shouldn’t believe a single word he said, I knew without a doubt that he was speaking his truth with full abandon.

“You destroyed that man I was. That dark, callous, ruthless man. You took hold of him and tore him into shreds. When I’m with you, that man is dead. And when I’m not with you, that man is still dead. When I watched you drive away with Layla, I realized I was nothing but an empty shell. Nothing remained but the corpse of Harley Crow.”

His words were like a beating from iron fists. They were everything I wanted to hear, and yet, they were everything I wanted to ignore.

“Tell me something,” I said softly. “Was it all a game for you? Was everything that happened since Friday night part of it?”

His forehead furrowed, and confusion blanketed his face. “What do you mean? The kidnapping?”

“Not just the kidnapping. The sex. The talks. The confessions. The feelings. The connection. Was it all part of the game? Part of the Tasting? Was it all fake?”

“It was more real than anything I could have imagined.”

I’d wanted to hear him say it. I needed to hear the words that there was something more than just the Tasting. Hearing him say what I had also been feeling would maybe make me not feel so weak and foolish.

“Did you have feelings for me? Not part of the game. Not part of the Tasting?”

He nodded and swallowed hard. It was the first time I’d seen Harley Crow look vulnerable. “Yes. Feelings that scared me. I was afraid. When you should have feared me, I was the coward who actually feared you. Feared what you were doing to me.”

“I never feared you,” I admitted. “A lot of people did at Spiked Roses, and I’m sure you knew that. But I never did. Not for a minute. I knew my life wasn’t ever going to be in danger with you. It wasn’t even a possibility in my world. Yes, you were known for being a crazy assassin, but I knew my life would always be safe in your hands. I have no idea why I felt that way, but I did.” I paused to take a sip of wine as Harley sat so close to me that I could almost feel the warmth of his breath. “But I was wrong. You did kill me. You murdered me, slaughtered me, and left me for dead. You made me believe that I could change a monster, and when the reality hit with how very wrong I was in believing I had that power, you, Harley Crow, assassinated my heart.”

He placed his vodka glass on the table and then did the same with my wine glass. Leaning in to where he was mere inches from my face, his lips so close to mine that I could feel the small puffs of air escaping through his parted mouth, he kissed me softly.

He broke the kiss before I could process whether I liked the action or not. “You are right. You can’t change the monster.”

My heart fell with the realization that he too believed I was correct. So, what did that awful truth mean for us? I couldn’t continue on with a monster who couldn’t be changed.

“But like I said before,” he said, cutting through my dismal thoughts, “you destroyed me. You killed that monster. I don’t need to change, because you butchered him into a million pieces with how you make me feel as I watch you. I want more. I want to step out from the darkness as long as you are on the other side.”

Without asking permission, though I didn’t expect Harley to do so, he leaned in again to kiss me—harder this time and with more passion than I thought possible. Taking hold of the back of my head, he pulled me closer so our kiss grew deeper. His tongue possessed my mouth, rubbing against my own. I inhaled deeply only to have his breath merge with mine, invading my entire being. As if my body knew exactly what to do, even though my mind still spun with a barrage of feelings both good and bad, I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed this man to kiss away all the darkness. Over and over our lips pressed, pulled away, and pressed again. And with every second his mouth was against mine, the shadows inched away.

“You battle those demons another way.” I could hear Tennessee saying to me before I left Spiked Roses to go heal with Harley.

This was my way of winning the war that waged inside of me. For the first time in my life, I finally had someone strong enough to battle the demons by my side. I didn’t want to do it alone.

I wanted Harley—needed Harley—to murder my past. And in return, I would slaughter his demons without mercy.

Evil was in his bones, but passion lived in his heart.

He was still an assassin. A killer. A ruthless man. Harley Crow.

But in this story, I didn’t want the hero. I wanted the villain. No hero was strong enough to rescue this heroine in distress. Not in this story.

This story had to end in only one way…

Happily ever after, with the villain in the end.

***The End***

Scoundrels & Scotch

Prologue

Victor

Dark perfection.

Cloaked secrets.

Tainted innocence.

Nightmares disguised in fairy tales.

Those were the themes of my latest art exhibit.

Drayton’s Dolls.

Tonight’s opening was held at the famous White Gallery in Paris. It was known for hosting artists who exuded a darker side.

I was that artist.

One who pushed the boundaries of taboo, sexual deviance, and hidden desires. Twisted, wrong, but delightfully right.

The lights dimmed and a deep male voice announced over the speakers, “Ladies and gentlemen—or shall I say instead—harlots and scoundrels. Tonight we have a special treat to tantalize your wicked side. To fuel the darkness that lurks in you all, but which you try to conceal. Grotesque fascination will consume you like never before. Let me present to you… Victor Drayton and The Drayton Dolls.”

The double doors opened, and I walked out to a room of curious spectators. A waiter stood at attention holding a tray with flutes of champagne. I took a glass and sipped as I entered the room fully. With a raise of my right hand, a militant beat began.

One, two, three, four—a deep and rhythmic cadence.

Just the sound of a drum at first, followed by the clap of dainty patent leather shoes connecting with marble flooring to the same beat of the music. Necks twisted, bodies turned, and all the guests who were once staring at me looked on as my precious dolls marched into the room single file. Arms stiff at their sides, eyes framed by extremely large eyelashes, red pouty lips, hair in pigtails with ribbons cascading down, perfect dresses with petticoats and bloomers underneath—the dolls continued to parade in. Emotionless. Lacking any real sense of life.

Taking a large swig of my drink, I placed it on the waiter’s tray who had not left my side. Very loudly, I was the first to begin clapping my hands to the beat of the music.

One, two, three, four.

Others joined in as if I had hypnotized their bodies with their need to add to the energy of the room.

One, two, three, four.

Then complete darkness. All lights went out, and I could hear gasps all around the room. I had their hearts in my grasp, and now it was my turn to squeeze.

One, two, three, four.

The same voice as before came over the speaker:

“Rock-a-bye dolly, in the dollhouse.

When the wind blows, the dollhouse will rock.

When the doors open, the dolls will all fall.

And down will come dolly, dollhouse and all.

Let the show begin…”

Chapter One

Ivy

“Girl, you just laid the biggest shit, stepped in it, and then spread it all around with those stilettos of yours,” Tennessee Charles said as he walked into the staff room of Spiked Roses as I applied the finishing touches to my lipstick before my waitressing shift began.

I turned away from my reflection in the mirror to look at him. “Me? What did I do?”

Tennessee was a strict boss, but a fair one. He rarely got on my ass for much, so I was surprised by his firm voice directed toward me.

“Did you really think you could piss in a cup and have all those pretty little opiates just disappear like magic?” He put his hands on his hips and glared. “The drug fairy would come and take them all away? Is that it?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Fairies don’t exist, sweetheart, unless you’re looking inside my little black book or attending one of my favorite New Orleans nightclubs with me.”

Fuck! I had drunk practically a gallon of that damn tea I had bought at the head shop. I’d been assured the tea would strip my urine completely and not a trace of drugs would be found in any test given. The patchouli-smelling hippie man behind the counter had told me that it was foolproof. Clearly, the only fool in the equation was me.

“I uh…” Coming up with the right words was impossible. I didn’t want to lie. Not to Tennessee—he deserved my complete honesty. What could I say? “I never took drugs on shift. I promise.”

“Sugar, I don’t give a flying fuck what you swallow, snort, eat, or shoot up. But the managing members of Spiked Roses do. You know the rules they set for the club. No drugs. You just cost yourself a cush job.” Tennessee looked into the mirror I still stood beside and adjusted his black and white checkered cravat that accentuated his blood red smoking jacket. The man sure did have the most eccentric, yet classy, taste of any person I knew.

“Are you firing me?”

He shook his head as he ran a fingertip over his eyebrow, taming the wayward hairs. “Not me. But I’m here to take you to meet with the bossmen. They’re waiting for you.”

“Please, Tennessee. Can’t you tell them that you chewed my ass out, even wrote me up or something? That I won’t do it again? I’ll owe you. I’ll work any shift with no notice at all. I’ll be your bitch if you save my ass on this one. Please. I really need this job.”

“Do I look like Judge Judy?” He spun on his loafer-clad feet and started walking toward the door. “This is out of my hands, sweet cheeks. Come on. Time to face the music.”

Following Tennessee to the upstairs office felt as if I was walking underwater. I hadn’t been in the conference room before and had only seen the seven managing members of the exclusive gentlemen’s club individually when I served them their favorite drinks. The thought of seeing them all together in one room was equivalent to walking toward a firing squad. My only hope was that I could somehow convince the men not to terminate my employment over a dirty pee test.

When I walked into the room, the emotionless expression on each man’s face was enough to tell me that my fate was most likely doomed.

“Ivy Adams, please have a seat,” Kenneth Saxon said. He was by far the most hard-ass out of all the members, and I could see in his eyes that he was not happy that he had to waste his time in talking with me. Plus, he had called me by my full name. That couldn’t be a good sign.

I took a seat at the end of the table aware that all the men were watching my every move.

“We got your test results back, and you tested positive for several drugs. But I’m sure you already know that,” Matthew Price said. He too was a hard-ass… actually, they all were. Who was I kidding? I was fucking screwed. There wasn’t a man sitting at this table who was going to stand up for me or show an inch of leniency.

“It’s not what you think,” I began. I had to do something, or say something to fight for my life. I couldn’t lose this job. I needed it. We all needed it. “I never once came to work high.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kenneth said calmly. “Spiked Roses has a zero tolerance for drugs, and testing positive is grounds for termination.”

“Yes, I understand that,” I countered. “But like I said, I’ve never once taken drugs on the job.”

“But you admit to taking them,” Matthew chimed in.

I nodded. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think. I wasn’t out partying on the streets of New Orleans or anything like that. I wasn’t doing drugs for a good time.”

“Medical reasons?” Kenneth asked.

I shrugged. “Sort of.”

“Do you have a prescription?” Matthew asked.

“No. I don’t have insurance, and well…”

“No prescription means they’re illegal,” Matthew said, glancing at the rest of the men to assure that they understood what was going on. Each man remained silent, but I could tell they were all annoyed for even having to spend a minute of their time dealing with a junkie situation.

“Well, I’m sorry to inform you that you have been terminated. As of right now, you are no longer employed by Spiked Roses,” Kenneth said with zero emotion in his voice—almost robotically.

“Your final check is in this envelope. It includes unpaid sick time and vacation as well,” Matthew added as he passed the envelope down the row of other men leading to where I sat.

It was the managing member, Victor Drayton, who held the envelope last, and as he handed it to me, he paused before releasing his hold, glaring into my eyes. I wanted to puke, and the intensity and level of disappointment I saw in Victor’s dark brown eyes forced me to hang my head in shame.

What was I going to do? What were we going to do? I didn’t even have enough money to pay this month’s rent, which had been due two days ago. And even with this final check, I knew it wouldn’t last me long enough to find another job and survive while waiting for the new job’s pay period to complete to get my first check. Marie St. Claire, owner of the boarding house I rented a room in, had already warned me last month that if I paid late one more time, she was going to be forced to evict me. I still had three days before I was technically considered late, but now with the loss of my job…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Is there anything I can do to change all of your minds?” I pleaded, fighting back the tears that wanted to fall, looking around the table in hopes that I could convince one of the men to show some pity. My eyes connected with Victor who still hadn’t changed his expression since handing me the envelope. Not being able to handle the severity of his stare, I turned my pleading eyes to Tennessee who stood by the door in hope he would chime in and plead my case for me. “I’ll take a drug test every single day if that is what it will take to prove to all of you that this won’t happen again. I swear to you I’m not a junkie. I’m not some party girl you can’t trust.”

“Rules are rules,” Kenneth said with no wavering expression.

“I love this job. I love Spiked Roses. Please allow me to prove to you that I can be trusted and be an employee you can count on. I don’t want to lose my job.”

“Then you should have thought of that before breaking our rules and policies to begin with,” Matthew said, backing Kenneth and his lack of caring for my desperate pleas. “If we don’t hold people accountable for not following our rules which we make very clear upon hiring, then we’ll lose all respect with the staff. We can’t bend the rules for you and not the others. It’s black and white. No area for negotiation.”

I glanced around, desperate for any sign of hope. When all I saw were either unsympathetic or impatient looks from all the others, I knew that any further pleading for my job was just going to be a pathetic waste of time.

“Turn in your timecard and your uniform to Tennessee before leaving,” Kenneth said as he stood. Other members took his words and actions as their cue that they could also do the same, leaving me as the only one still sitting in stunned silence.

How could I have been so stupid? I had just lost the best job I had ever landed, and most likely could ever get again. The amount of money I made in tips alone made it awesome. But when you figured in the money that I made from the special Tastings that the members-only club hosted at least once a month if not more often, a girl could make a very good living working at Spiked Roses. And I needed the money bad… or more like my family needed the money. I sent home almost every cent I made to support them, and without me, they would have no source of income at all. Not only did I just screw myself, but I also completely fucked the people who were counting on me to keep a roof over their heads and food on their table. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

“I’ll see you gentlemen at the next meeting,” Kenneth said, gathering up his stack of papers and file folders. “Ivy, please stay seated. Mr. Drayton would like to speak with you in private once we all leave. Tennessee, will you please remain as well?”

I looked up at Tennessee who seemed as confused by Kenneth’s request as I was. But instead of saying anything, Tennessee took a vacated seat next to me, reached out, and patted the top of my sweaty palm to show the first sign of comforting support. God, I fucking needed it right then. I didn’t think I could have stood and left even if I wanted to. I had never been fired from a job before, and the fact that I was watching my entire life, and the lives of others I cared for, crumble right before me, was about to cause me to hyperventilate and curl up in a tiny ball on the ground and shake like a true junkie.

Victor walked up to the head of the table where Kenneth was preparing to leave. He wore an impeccable gray three-piece suit with a darker gray vest underneath. Each managing member dressed to the tee at all times, but Victor always had a classic charm about his style. Three-piece suits and a slender tie were always his dress of choice. I had never seen him even loosen the tie and collar in the slightest. Not even when he casually sat near the bar sipping his scotch in the midnight hours. The only thing that contrasted his classic charm was the visible marks of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his shirt. Black twisted lines emerged as if his suit was hiding a dark tree or some sinister design that was on his chest and shoulders with the edges showing through. Dark hair with a tinge of gray around the temples. Dark brown eyes. An extremely firm and straight jawline. Broad shoulders offsetting a lean body. These were the descriptions of a man who exuded a no-nonsense elegance about him. I didn’t know very much about the man other than he was a world-famous and highly renowned artist and gallery owner. What he was the most famous for was his use of human dolls in all his art pieces. People would travel all around the world to attend one of his performance art doll exhibits that spotlighted the taboo and the kinky.

Victor Drayton wasn’t as scary as some of the other managing members like the assassin Harley Crow who also owned part of the club, but Victor had a mystery about him. The tales that surrounded his dolls frightened me almost as much as a man who killed. Chilling and creepy rumors swirled around his Drayton’s Dolls and The Dollhouse they lived in. I both wanted to know all about them, but at the same time, keep as far away from what could very well be a nightmare if I learned too much.

“Miss Adams,” Victor began when everyone left the room other than Tennessee and me. “I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?”

Victor didn’t sit down, but instead crossed his arms against his chest and appeared as if he were studying my every move. “I’m here to offer you a job.”

“A job?”

“To become a Drayton Doll.”

“A doll? For your art exhibits?”

“Stop replying with a question that doesn’t really require an answer,” Victor snapped. “It’s a sign of weakness. I abhor weakness in women. Instead, what you should do is sit there, listen, and process the proposal I am about to set forth.”

His biting words sent my head spinning. The man had never spoken to me other than a quick order of a scotch, so I had no idea he could be so direct and formal in his manner. It certainly matched his perfectly pressed suit and perfect at all times appearance. I was about to open my mouth and apologize, but decided it best to do exactly as he’d just directed: sit, listen, and process.

Victor’s jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed. But in a calm voice, he continued. “As I was saying. Though you clearly broke one of the main rules at Spiked Roses, your work history here has been exceptional. You haven’t missed a day of work, nor shown up late. I value punctuality and hard work in my employees. Your drug use is something we can, and will, address at another time, but I believe you could be a valuable asset to The Dollhouse.”

He paused long enough that I almost responded with “The Dollhouse?” but swallowed back the words instead, realizing that I’d be responding with a question that didn’t require an answer. Did I always do that? No one had ever brought it to my attention before, but then I had never been sitting across from a man like Victor Drayton before either.

I glanced at Tennessee who was watching Victor with some skepticism on his face. I wished he’d be the one to speak up and do the talking for me, but I also knew it wasn’t his responsibility, nor did it really concern him at all. Tennessee was no longer my direct supervisor, now that I’d fucked up and had been fired. I hadn’t even had a chance to come to the reality that a man I had actually grown to like wasn’t going to be in my life any longer. I truly was going to miss Tennessee. He was one of a kind.

Victor continued. “If you accept my offer, you’ll be expected to move into The Dollhouse and begin training immediately. I have exhibits lined up for the next several months in Milan, Berlin, Dubai and a very large one scheduled in Japan in two months that I’ll need every one of my dolls ready for. I have some of the best choreographers starting now with the other dolls, but you won’t be too far behind if we get you there immediately. While you are a doll in training, you’ll get a small but fair salary as well as all cost of living expenses paid. Where the real money comes in is in the actual exhibits. Bonuses are issued for the more intense pieces, but they are also harder to be cast in. The real bonus, however, is paid once your employment has concluded. Once a doll has vested three years with me, I will fund the future of their choice. What that means is that once you have successfully worked as a Drayton Doll, I will pay for your college education, or invest in a startup business, or whatever your future dream is. Just recently, I invested in a clothing line for a doll who had the dream of someday becoming a fashion designer, so it doesn’t necessarily have to revolve around education if that isn’t truly your dream.”

Was the man serious?

Did he really just offer me a job that not only paid me, housed me, but also would pay for me to do whatever I wanted in the future once I’d three years vested with him? Could this all really be true? I had just seen the dolls here at Spiked Roses for a recent Tasting they’d participated in, and all I’d seen were women dressed up in ruffled dresses, shiny shoes, hair in bows, and such extremely large eyelashes that I’d wondered how they were able to even keep their eyes open while wearing them. I’d had no idea that these same dolls were all doing the job for a bigger reason. College, career, and a chance at a real future is what they all had to look forward to. Mr. Drayton was offering them their dreams, when I’d thought they were living a nightmare.

“So, what I am offering you is a chance to become a Drayton Doll. You’ll be expected to make arrangements and arrive at The Dollhouse by this time tomorrow. In fact, I’ll personally escort you myself.” He paused and studied me for several moments as if he could actually read my thoughts. “This deal is on the table right now and only right now. You will make a decision here and now, and this is the only time I’ll be offering it. Do you have any questions first?”

“You mentioned choreographers. Will I be expected to dance?” I couldn’t dance at all. Not even if the choreographer was a magician would I be able to. I was embarrassingly uncoordinated, and the fact that I could even carry a tray of drinks while balancing on five-inch heels, was a feat within itself. But I definitely wasn’t going to admit that fact to him and risk losing a second job in one evening.

“Yes, for the Japan exhibit there will be considerable dancing required. For the others, they are more about how to move your body to the synchronized positions needed for the theme of each of my art shows.” Victor walked over to the door and opened it. “Can you bring in my hiring packet?” he said to whom I assumed was the secretary waiting outside the door. He walked back to where he’d been standing as the secretary placed a manila folder in front of me. “Go ahead and look over the compensation, the bonus structure, the rules, etc. Also, complete the W2 and all the necessary hiring paperwork and bring it back here with you tomorrow. Be at Spiked Roses at 8:00 pm ready to go to The Dollhouse.”

“So I will be living there? For the three years to vest?”

He nodded. “As long as you are a Drayton Doll, then, yes. You’ll be living there.”

I opened the file and flipped through all the papers, recognizing they appeared as any other paperwork for a regular job on the surface, but I also knew that there were many shadows lurking beneath the business facade. As tempting as the job sounded, I wasn’t so naïve not to know there were some downsides as well. The rumors of The Dollhouse didn’t come out of nowhere. I was positive there was at least some merit to what was being said.

“Do you accept the offer to become a Drayton Doll?” Victor asked.

Ignoring all warnings going off in my psyche, I nodded. “Yes, thank you. I do.” I didn’t really have much to lose at this point, and I didn’t exactly have a lot of options either.

“Well then, you have less than 24 hours to get your affairs in order. Once you move into The Dollhouse, you will not be permitted to leave until off-property privileges are earned. That will take time and hard work. So make sure you get everything taken care of now. Let your friends and family know you will not be reachable for awhile unless there is an emergency.”

I nodded as he walked toward the door to leave.

“Mr. Drayton,” I said before he exited fully.

He paused in the doorway with his back to me.

“Thank you. I promise that I won’t let you down. I won’t fail,” I said.

“You will soon learn that for Drayton’s Dolls, failure is no longer an option.” He walked out the door without looking at me or saying another word.

Chapter Two

Ivy

I remembered when I was first hired at Spiked Roses, that the story behind the club was what had fascinated me the most. The fact that a serial killer back in 1892 had killed twenty-two women by stabbing them with a stake and buried their bodies beneath the building that now housed the club, intrigued me. But the fact that the killer had buried the women in black plastic bags with roses to help conceal the smell of their rotting flesh is what really stayed with me. So morbid and monstrous. So sad that those poor souls didn’t receive aboveground tombs like most every other person did in New Orleans due to the water table. Those poor women were left to decompose and become something putrid and disgusting. Their beauty wiped out by one man.

I had appreciated that the owners of the club had embraced this part of the history rather than trying to hide it. So much so, that they named the club after the terrifying tale. I liked how there never seemed to be secrets at the club. The men were who they were. They didn’t hide the fact that they were rich, ruthless, dark, twisted, and had the power and resources to do whatever they chose.

Unlike how I was brought up, there was no shame in being sexual and open with your true desires. The Tasting Room in the club and the Tastings were proof of that. Sexual play and kinks were welcomed with open arms and even encouraged. Shame was not something anyone who worked in this place ever felt.

Until tonight.

I felt so much shame as I walked into the staff room with Tennessee to dress back in my regular clothing, collect my belongings, and never come back again. All because of those damn pills.

“Are you sure about this?” Tennessee asked. “You really want to be a Drayton Doll?”

“I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“You always have a choice. There are waitress gigs all up and down Bourbon Street. I’ll give you a good reference.”

“But they don’t pay like the money I’m used to. Spiked Roses has spoiled me. I have a lot of expenses,” I said as I began changing back into my regular clothes so I could give my uniform back to Tennessee.

“Well, if you stop doing drugs, you might find you have more money. Snorting all your money isn’t wise financial planning, sugar.”

“I don’t! I know it looks bad. But I don’t spend my money on drugs. Or at least not the way you think.” I knew I didn’t have to explain my situation to Tennessee because he was one of the few people in this world who truly wouldn’t judge me, but I still wanted to leave with my head as high as I could have it. “I send almost all my earnings back home to my sister. She’s in Mississippi taking care of my father. He has alcohol-induced dementia and can’t be left home alone. His health is in awful condition, he had no savings before he got really sick, no insurance, no anything. My sister is just as bad on the money side, but at least she’s able to stay with him full-time. So, I pay for everything. Their housing, their food, their medical bills… everything.” I released a big sigh as I pulled on my jeans.

“That’s a big burden for you to carry. For anyone to carry.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I took a make-up remover wipe and began washing off the thick dark eye shadow I had applied when I thought I would be serving drinks in my tight little leather leotard and black fishnet stockings. “Just the way things worked out. Someone has to. And honestly, I would rather provide the money than provide the care like my sister. At least this way, I don’t have to live in a double-wide taking my dad’s physical and verbal abuse like my sister feels she has to. I have the better end of the deal if you ask me.”

“Those are some shitty cards you have, girlfriend.”

“And as for the drugs, I take downers to quiet my mind sometimes. Not for pleasure or anything like that. My senses get out of whack sometimes.”

“Senses?” Tennessee seemed genuinely curious.

“I’ve always been this way. I smell things more intensely than others. I hear things you might not, like the dull buzz in a fluorescent light. My skin sometimes hurts. Like everything that touches me is too much. Almost like tiny little pins stabbing me. My heart beats really hard, and my ears ring.”

Tennessee rolled his eyes. “Girl, are you telling me you have superhuman powers? You one of those X-Men people? Come on. You have some anxiety just like a bunch of others. But you got caught popping pills, and whatever reason you chose to take them, is your story. You don’t have to explain to me. I get it. Sometimes it’s easier to numb the pain with a little help. You aren’t the first one to do drugs, nor the last.”

“I’m not saying I have superpowers. Just that all my senses sometimes go on overdrive. I guess you could call it anxiety, but it doesn’t really feel like that. It just feels like everything is coming at me really fast and my senses are overcompensating. And when that happens, I choose the easy way out, I guess, and numb it as you said.”

“I get it.”

“But it fucking sucks!” I said as I packed my bag by grabbing my deodorant, makeup, and little odds and ends that I kept in the staff room. “I lost the best damn job I ever had.”

“Are you sure you really want to take the job you just took?” Tennessee asked. “You know the stories of those dolls. There is some kinky shit that goes down in that house of Victor’s. I heard he keeps the dolls dressed in dresses, ruffles, lace, those big ass eyelashes, and ribbons twenty-four-seven. You have to act like a doll all the time.”

“Yeah, I also heard they all have to wear dildos up their asses while doing the shows,” I said as I shook my head in disbelief.

Tennessee chuckled. “And you just agreed to that!” He laughed even louder. “I mean, talk about taking one for the team. Are you really sure the pay is worth it?”

“Did you hear the man back there?” I asked. “After three years, he makes whatever dreams you have come true. Your future is set. How could I say no to that? Even if I have to have a big dildo up my bum for three years straight, I really do think it would be worth it.”

“And what’s your dream?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I never thought I had the luxury of having one before tonight. I was just a trailer park kid raised by a drunk single father.” I picked up my duffle bag and slung it over my shoulder. “But I have three years to come up with a good one.”

“You better. Don’t waste this opportunity.”

I handed my uniform to Tennessee as well as my time card. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me. Our paths will cross again.” Tennessee took everything that belonged to Spiked Roses and pulled me into a hug. “Now don’t you do anything you are uncomfortable with. Victor is a good man, and won’t hurt you, but some of that shit over there is going to be weird as fuck. So you stand up for yourself if it becomes too much.”

I nodded as I walked toward the door. “I will.” I smiled. “And the good news is that I’ll get to travel around the world. All his showings are in galleries in parts of the world I’ve never been. So, if I have to be the token white trash broken doll someone bought on clearance at the discount store to travel to exotic places, so be it.”

As I walked out the door, Tennessee called out, “Ivy!”

I stopped and looked over my shoulder, expecting a deep and meaningful farewell that would have me bursting into tears.

“Be sure to use lots of lube!” he called out as his loud bellowing laugh followed.

Fucker. Classic Tennessee Charles. God, I was going to miss the asshole.

Chapter Three

Victor

Glancing down at my watch, I clenched my teeth in annoyance. Ivy had exactly five minutes until 8:00 pm, and then she would be late. I detested late people. My father—a general in the U.S. Army—used to say that being late meant that you considered your time was more valuable than someone else’s. And though I didn’t agree with many of my father’s beliefs, that was definitely one I did. In fact, I took it one step further. I believed that if you weren’t ten minutes early—especially to an interview—then you might as well be late. Punctuality was crucial to order. Order was crucial to success. Success was crucial to my way of life.

I took the last sip of my scotch, and got up, ready to leave. I wouldn’t be taking Ivy Adams to The Dollhouse after all. But right as the clock struck 8:00, Ivy came running up to me, breathless and frazzled. Her chestnut hair appeared as if she had journeyed through a tropical storm, and her plump lips were in desperate need of a moisturizing lip-gloss. My hair and makeup people at The Dollhouse were going to have a field day with her. There was nothing uniformed and structured about the wild woman breathing heavily before me.

“Sorry,” she said on exhale. “It took me longer than I thought to get everything packed up and cleaned. I didn’t want to leave Marie St. Claire with a mess. It was important to me that she could rent my room without requiring effort on her part.” She glanced at her phone and smiled. “But I made it.”

I wasn’t amused.

Not in the slightest.

I wasn’t sure if it was because I was so used to the dolls always being immaculately put together, or if it was my militant father and my upbringing as a general’s son, but the woman standing in front of me worked my last nerve. She was wild, unstable, scattered, and just plain sloppy. Her jeans weren’t pressed, and in my opinion, were too large on her. The white tank top she wore revealed a hot pink bra underneath. I could see the faint pink tone beneath the ribbed fabric of her shirt. Plus, the bra straps were hanging on the edges of her shoulders, and from what I could see from the ragged edges, the bra had seen better days. This woman before me was about as far from one of my dolls in appearance as one could be.

“First rule with me,” I began as I stood and adjusted my suit jacket, “if you are not ten minutes early, then I consider you late.”

Her green eyes widened. “You said eight. I got here right on time.”

“Second rule. Listen, pause, and then react. You didn’t listen to me and pause, but instead you simply reacted.” I took the napkin my glass was on and wiped down the small table I sat at. “I said that if you are not ten minutes early, you are late. Therefore, eight was late.” I pulled out my wallet and placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table as a tip for my drink. “Had you been here one minute later, I would have left without you, and you would have just cost yourself two jobs in two days.” I glanced down at her feet and noticed she didn’t have any bags or luggage. “Where are your belongings?”

“I didn’t want to bring them through the club. So, I left them in the staff room.” Her voice cracked. I could see that I made her nervous.

Good. Very good. This was a crucial step in the forming of a doll. I needed to break the Ivy Adams who once was, and create the new Ivy Adams… the doll.

I extended the crook of my arm as a gentleman would and waited until Ivy looped her thin arm through it. Her skin was pale. Maybe too pale. Though the coloring of her flesh could be perfect for a porcelain exhibit. With a bright red lipstick and cherry red-circled cheeks, and maybe a yellow dress—no—a perfectly starched white dress with lace lining and an extra large petticoat underneath. Maybe bloomers…

“Mr. Drayton?” Ivy asked, snapping me out of my thoughts on how I could transform her into the perfect doll. “The staff room”—she pointed toward the right—“my stuff is in there.” I had been so lost in thought that I was leading us arm in arm straight toward the exit.

“I’ll go get my driver to help you with your things.”

She shook her head. “No need. I only have two large bags. I didn’t really have a lot. Since I wore a uniform for work, I didn’t really need a lot of clothing.” She released her hold of my arm. “I got it. I’ll be right back.”

Before I could say another word, she scurried off to the back room. I watched after her as she walked away. Her hips swayed when she walked, her arms swung too much, and her posture would need a large degree of focused attention to correct. Her long brown hair hung down her back, and even from a distance, I could see that it was in need of a good trim. Spit ends were never acceptable for a Drayton Doll. Luckily, she walked fast because she returned with two large duffle bags, one over each of her shoulders before I had a chance to grow impatient. And since patience was definitely not one of my virtues, that really was saying something.

I took both bags from her and wondered how old they were. They reminded me of bags used by wrinkly old men with saggy balls in the gym I had attended in the late 90s.

“You won’t be needing any of your clothes once we arrive at The Dollhouse. We provide all of your clothing while living there. But we’ll keep these in storage for when you are allowed to leave the grounds.”

“Can I ask what type of clothes I’ll be expected to wear?” she asked as we walked out the door.

“We start doll training right away. I believe that you have to live and breathe your art. Total immersion. The only way to get you, and the rest of the women, the tools to truly pull off that you are a human doll is by making you become one all the time.”

“So, we wear doll dresses every day?”

“Yes.”

“And those large eyelashes?”

“Yes.”

I motioned for the driver, who got out of the town car to greet us, to go ahead and get back inside as we exited Spiked Roses. Opening the door for Ivy myself, I allowed her to crawl in and position herself comfortably before I closed the door behind her. I then opened the front door, made eye contact with the driver, and tossed her duffle bags onto the front seat.

Climbing in next to her on the other side of the car, I said, “Seatbelt.”

She seemed surprised by my command, but I didn’t care.

As the car started, and we began our two-hour journey to The Dollhouse, I said, “Our next show is in Milan. You’ve come at a good time as we have just started the choreography. You should be able to pick up what’s needed for that show fairly easily. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to cast you. As for the Japan show, I’m not sure yet. That one will require an extensive level of dance experience and training. But we’ll see.”

“I don’t really know how to dance,” she said timidly.

“You’ll learn.” I looked directly at her. “I don’t accept excuses. It’s best you understand that now.”

“Can I ask a question that might upset you?”

I kept my stare focused on her eyes that kept averting toward the floor. “Go ahead.”

“There are a bunch of rumors about The Dollhouse and what’s expected of the dolls.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Are they true?” She looked up and her green eyes locked with mine as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

“I’m sure most are. But with all rumors, some may be exaggerated.”

“So the rumor about the anal dildos… Is that rumor exaggerated?”

I smirked. I couldn’t help but find Ivy’s honesty refreshing. She didn’t care what I thought about her or was trying to impress me by being someone she wasn’t. I was always pretty good at reading people, though some were harder than others. Ivy, on the other hand, seemed very simple. You got what you saw. She needed polish, to learn grace, and tutelage on proper form and behavior, though I believed there truly was a gem beneath all the grime. I could see it. I could feel it. With a little attention, I could already see she would fit my artistic vision of the perfect doll.

“The rumor about the dildos is not exaggerated at all. We require them as part of the art show.”

I could hear her breath hitch. “Why?”

“For many reasons. One being, it helps keep focus. Helps you stay stiff, keep your posture, and helps you concentrate while you remain in your pose. The other reason is it’s part of the art. The dolls are so perfect, so innocent, so childlike. Yet the invasive, taboo, sexual toy inserted into such an intimate place adds to the dynamic. The dark perfection. The cloaked secrets. You’ll see in the many different exhibits I set up for each gallery, that I play off the nightmares disguised as fairy tales. I’ll have delicate little dolls with ribboned braids, surrounded by black demons with flames flickering around the dolls dressed in white. Or in another exhibit, I will have dolls bent over, showing the way the dildo stretches their anus to an almost grotesque level, only to have the rest of the exhibit be lollipops and rainbows. It’s about the contrast. The art is about the light and dark, the good and bad, and the innocence and tainted.”

“And people come to see all this?”

I smiled again. It was easy to see Ivy didn’t mean for her words to come off as an insult; she was simply being open and raw. Exposed. Again, I was growing to like this woman very much for those qualities.

“Yes,” I said as I nodded. “People come from all around the world and pay a great deal of money for a coveted ticket to one of my art exhibits. Drayton’s Dolls are in demand by every gallery in the world.”

I didn’t like to brag, and even saying the words made me feel uncomfortable, but since Ivy was being candid in her questions, I felt I owed her the same level of respect.

Ivy looked out the window for several moments, watching the Louisiana night landscape pass us by at a rapid speed. Not looking away, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“The Dollhouse is about two hours from Spiked Roses. It’s remote, which I like. An old Southern plantation house once owned by an old sea captain who built his fortune smuggling jewels and artifacts from Europe. There’s a lot of history in the large house. It nearly burnt down in 1943, but I’ve since rebuilt it to its former glory. A perfect dollhouse in my opinion.”

“How many dolls do you have?”

“Twenty right now. Including you.”

“I signed all the paperwork you gave me, and read through the packet.”

“Good. Did you have any questions?”

She turned to look at me. I noticed she fidgeted her fingers and picked at her cuticle. A habit we would for sure have to break. “You mentioned that after three years, you help start the dolls on a path for their future. The papers didn’t specify what that means really.”

“That’s because it’s different for every doll. Many choose college, which is easy for me. Others don’t want school but have a dream of owning a business or following their dream of being an artist or dancer. Whatever they want, I will help them get there. I don’t give it to them. I help. They have to still fight for what they want.” She continued to pick at that damn cuticle until I saw specks of blood form on her thumb. I reached over and placed my hand on hers to calm her nerves. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. “What’s your dream, Ivy?”

It was almost as if she stopped breathing. She looked away and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t really consider myself a college girl. I barely got my GED, and I hated every moment of it.”

“What’s your passion?” I still kept my palm on hers, finding that I enjoyed the warmth. It wasn’t appropriate and not proper in the slightest, at least not until we reached The Dollhouse where all bets were off, and the dolls were at my complete mercy, but I didn’t really care.

“That’s a good question. I don’t know.”

“You have no aspirations?”

She shook her head. “No. None. I have no skills or hobbies. I’m just a trailer girl from Mississippi who knows how to waitress.”

“Mississippi? How did you end up in New Orleans?”

She looked at me with raised eyebrows and a wicked smirk. “Have you been to Traverse, Mississippi? I bet you haven’t even heard of it because no one even feels it’s worth mentioning.”

I couldn’t hold back the laugh that came out in the most undignified way. The tone in her voice, the expression on her face… I was soon realizing that Ivy had some hidden charm underneath her raw exterior.

“All right then. Fair enough. But I have a feeling that after three years under my employment, traveling all over the world, participating in elaborate art exhibits, and meeting fascinating people, you are bound to develop a dream for something better than waitressing. I’m sure we can find that passion that’s locked inside of you.”

She nodded but appeared sad as she looked back out the window. I felt as if my hand on hers had overstayed its welcome, so I pulled it away and placed it back on my lap.

Pulling out my phone, I said, “I have some emails to return. I hope you won’t find it rude for me to finish up some work for the remainder of the trip.”

I didn’t wait for an answer, but did as I pleased. I was used to doing what I wanted anyway. Bringing another doll into the mix wasn’t going to change who I was or how I acted. Glancing at Ivy staring out the window appearing lost in her own mind, I did wonder what was beneath that outer shell. I could see there was something… but I couldn’t quite figure it out. I would, however. I would study, learn, and eventually cast Ivy Adams in the perfect role as a Drayton Doll. What type of doll she was, was still a mystery. But I would figure it out. I had no doubt of that fact.

Chapter Four

Ivy

The sound of shoes striking against the marble slab of the room woke me from my sleep. I wasn’t sure if I had dreamt it, or if I truly was inside The Dollhouse. A quick glance around at the elegant room with the four-poster bed, antique furniture appearing to cost more than most people’s first homes, proved my dream was, in fact, a reality. We had arrived at the charming house in the cloak of pitch darkness. The moon was concealed by a thick layer of clouds, and with the house being so remote, there were no nearby lights anywhere in sight. I knew as I had walked up the stairs to the front porch that, indeed, the house was an old Southern plantation mansion like Victor had told me it would be, but I couldn’t quite make out all the details. Even inside, I hadn’t had a chance to check out the entire house. Victor had led me directly to my room at a rapid speed and told me that I would see the house and be introduced to the dolls in the morning. I was all but ordered to go to bed as a father would command a child. I had started to come to the realization that Victor Drayton was a very militant, and direct man. I already knew he was highly dominant, no nonsense, and composed at all times from just serving him drinks at Spiked Roses and hearing the other staff talk, but now, having an up close and personal connection, I could see he was far more of a powerful presence than I had expected. He damn near terrified me.

As Victor entered the room without even knocking, I watched him walk over to a round table with two chairs in the corner. He sat down without saying a word. A woman dressed like a doll with two braids tied in ribbons, a short pink dress with polka-dot bloomers, those ridiculously large eyelashes, and shiny shoes followed with a tray of tea and pastries. She quickly left as soon as she placed the tray on the table without even looking at me once.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Please come and join me.” Victor motioned to the seat across from him.

I stood up, slightly self-conscious of my appearance. I wore a white silk nightgown that had been left on the edge of my bed last night for me to wear. It covered the majority of my body, but I still felt like I shouldn’t be in my nightclothes as I met with my new employer. Victor had taken my duffle bags and told me they would go to storage until I needed them, so I really didn’t have a choice considering my new situation. I also had no doubt my hair was a complete mess, but there was nothing I could do about it at this point either. Not wanting to keep Victor waiting, I padded in my bare feet across the floor to do as he asked. As I approached the chair, he stood and pulled it out for me. No one had ever done such a thing for me before. As crazy as that sounded, I’d never had a true gentleman in my life with anyone I dated or even hung out with. White trash attracted white trash, I guess you could say.

I stared at the austere man, intrigued that it seemed so second nature to him to be so classy and proper. “Thank you.”

He placed a pastry on a plate, poured some tea into a delicate teacup, and sat it in front of me. “Please, help yourself to the sugar for the tea, if you like. There’s cream here too.”

I gratefully accepted his generosity as my mouth felt as if I had swallowed sand and daggers at the same time. My hand shook as I brought the fine china cup to my lips. This wasn’t the typical breakfast spread I was used to, and I worried I would drop the china and make a complete fool of myself. Although attempting to be graceful, I knew I appeared out of my element as he watched my shaky and awkward movements. I had worked so hard when serving at Spiked Roses to not come across as a hillbilly girl from the backwoods of Mississippi, but sitting here having a perfect little tea party with a man in a three-piece suit was a sure way to make me feel like my worth was less than a penny.

“If you want to be part of The Dollhouse, there are expectations as I’m sure you can understand,” Victor stated in a businesslike tone. “You’ll have to pass a medical inspection since we only accept dolls free of STDs and who are not pregnant. After that, you’ll have to go through extensive training.”

He leaned back in his lavishly carved chair. The dark wood table and chairs had Japanese warriors engaged in battle carved into the arms and legs. I couldn’t keep my eyes from the delicate and intricate design. He noted my fascination.

“The furniture was imported from Japan—a place I visit often. It’s very rare, but endures well, and the artisan who created the furniture did an excellent job capturing the history of some of Japan’s darkest times in history.” He smoothed his palm over the armrest with a look of admiration and pride etched on his face. “I love when time is taken to make something perfect. Mediocrity should never be accepted.” His stormy dark eyes met mine. “My expectations are high. In all regards. I’m not an easy boss, and I’m a perfectionist when it comes to my art.”

I swallowed a bite of pastry before speaking. “Yes, Mr. Drayton. I understand.” Even though I said the words, I wasn’t really sure I did. “I want to assure you that I am willing to go through whatever training you have in mind. I’m aware of what’s expected, and I’m committed to work really hard.”

His brow rose with interest. “First, you can call me Victor for the most part. Unless we are in front of formal clients, or art patrons, I don’t require you to be formal at all times.” He cleared his throat. “So, do you feel as if you truly understand what a Drayton Doll does and what it is that I expect from you to live and work here?”

“I believe so. Now that I am part of The Dollhouse, my job is to learn how to be one of your dolls and be part of your exhibits. Though I have no experience in art or performing, I’m willing to learn.”

He smiled, continuing to rub his palm over the wood. I noted his hands—big, capable, firm. I needed to sip my tea to calm my growing nerves.

“We have strict rules,” he added, with a slight lift to his mouth. “You’ll be expected to do as you’re asked by me, my house staff, my security, and my choreographers. In return, you’ll get cast in better exhibits and attend all the shows. If you disobey or act out, you’ll be punished accordingly.”

My heart skipped. “Punished? Like prison?”

Victor gave a slight smile. “No, not prison. The girls of The Dollhouse are no strangers to discipline when deserved.” He paused, examining my face. I did everything I could to not appear shocked by his statement. I wanted to appear sexually sophisticated and open to all kinks, even though I had no idea how to achieve it. Did he mean discipline as in BDSM-type discipline? I had played with some of that as part of Spiked Roses and the Tastings, but this seemed different. It seemed… real.

“When you say discipline, do you mean…” I swallowed and then barely whispered, “like a spanking, flogging or something?”

He nodded simply as if the conversation and question weren’t out of the ordinary. Victor continued on. “There are other versions of punishments, but all with the purpose to keep my dolls submissive. Being part of The Dollhouse demands submission.”

“Submission?” The image of being disciplined by Victor sent a shiver down my spine. Was it the idea of the punishment? Or was it the fact that my experience with discipline usually involved sexual activity as well?

“Yes. This will be part of the training. To truly achieve the element of being a doll, it’s important to get in the right mindset. You have to not only become a natural with submission, but also comfortable with your body, your sexual energy, and your comfort with the true surrender to convention required to be a doll. I have no doubt you’ll truly understand the meaning of what a Drayton Doll is soon enough.”

“I see.” I took another bite of the pastry and struggled to swallow against the formed lump in the back of my throat. Victor’s eyes watched intently as I chewed. “I’m a quick learner, and I promise you I won’t let you down.” I had to say something, and that was all I could come up with. I wanted him to know how serious I was even though I was terrified as well.

Victor crossed his arms against his broad chest. “What other jobs have you had besides working at Spiked Roses?” His dark eyes glinted with interest.

“Waitressing in other bars or restaurants. Some I left by choice, and others by life circumstances.” I glanced at my armrest at a carved warrior engaged in a brutal death scene. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would someday regret being part of Drayton’s Dolls and his galleries. My gaze snapped back to Victor.

Victor nodded. “Do you have any family?” His ability to jump from one topic to the next overwhelmed me. It was hard to keep my composure. Maybe that was his intent.

“Yes. A sister and a father.” I looked down at the ground, praying he wouldn’t press any further, or want more of an answer.

“Are you close with them?”

“I guess so. I don’t see them often though.”

Victor studied my every move. His glare pierced through me. “Tell me why you worked at Spiked Roses.”

“The money. Why does anyone?” My gaze went to another brutal carving in the wood.

“Money for what? You lived in a boarding house. Where was all your money going?”

A prickle of annoyance sizzled through me. Did I have to answer such a personal question? How did my family life have anything to do with whether I could be a doll or not? Though I also could see that Victor wasn’t a man who had his questions ignored or fought with. Getting defensive right now could just land me straight back to where I came from.

“For my family. My father is a very sick man who requires around the clock care. My sister provides the care, but neither one of them have any source of income. So, my part of the caretaking for my father is via monthly checks. To say my father didn’t plan for his future would be an understatement. No insurance or savings means it all lands on me.”

“Why don’t you use the State? Won’t they pay for him?”

I swallowed back my fury. I hated that question and assumption more than anything. “Would you?” I snapped, not meaning to sound as harsh as I did. “Allow the State to take care of someone in your family?”

He didn’t respond, but tilted his head, appearing as if he was processing what I just said.

“My father was a proud man and never asked for a handout.” I felt as if I needed to clarify and not sound so harsh in talking about my situation. “Even when we could have really used one when I was young. So, I feel like the least I can do is try to honor my dad’s dignity at the end. He would have hated knowing I took a handout from the State. I worked at Spiked Roses so that I could afford everything he needed.”

“Why did you risk losing it by doing drugs then?” His stare burned, but his words were even worse.

“I’m a masochist and clearly like putting myself through pain and misery.” I hadn’t intended on sounding sarcastic, but couldn’t resist.

Victor chuckled. “Fair enough.” He paused, and the short-lived smile melted away, leaving his serious, unyielding expression in its place. “But sarcasm is not the way to answer my questions. So, let’s try again. Why did you risk your job at Spiked Roses for drugs? Did you think you wouldn’t get caught?”

“I had hoped I wouldn’t get caught. I thought if I drank the tea I bought at a head shop, that I would get away with it.”

“Why take the drugs to begin with? Do you consider yourself addicted?”

I swallowed hard. I knew Victor was the kind of man who demanded full disclosure. I also had already seen he was good at seeing right through me. “I’m not addicted. Not at all. It’s just that…” I took a deep breath. “Sometimes I feel like everything inside my body is loud. Really loud. Ear piercing loud. So, though it isn’t right, the pills help silence the noise.”

Victor nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Well, then,” he said slowly. “That is one of the things we’ll work on with your doll training. I think you’ll find that developing the skills to become a doll is going to help you calm that inner beast screaming at you—without the help of medication or substances. Demons are inside of us all. No changing that. But there are ways to keep them at bay.”

For some reason, his words made me want to cry. Not out of sadness, but because it seemed as if he truly understood what I meant when I spoke of the chaos that happened inside of me. He didn’t judge me. He didn’t even want to fix me by giving advice that I had heard a million times before. He simply understood.

“So, I’m going to ask you straight out,” he said. “Do you feel you’re going to go through withdrawal or have cravings now that you’re here and can’t have any?”

I shook my head—maybe more forcefully than I had intended. “No, not at all. I really didn’t take them often. I’m not saying I’m a saint in regards to my usage, but I am about as far from a junkie as you could get. To be honest, I never really had the money or even the means to get hold of pills or other drugs easily. I didn’t exactly have a hook up or anything.”

“Good to hear. No more talk of that then.” He slapped the table top softly. “After you’re done eating, we’ll get you inspected. Training starts right after that. Do you have any questions?”

I shook my head.

Victor sat in silence while I finished my tea. He never took his eyes off of me. His face was stern as he studied my every move. “When you’re through, please stand in front of me.”

I wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin and did as he asked. I padded my way until I stood only inches from him.

“Do you think you are going to be comfortable being naked in front of others?” he asked.

“I think so.” I swallowed, looking down at my fingers in front of me. “I mean, I have before. For Tastings. Working at Spiked Roses got me to be a lot more comfortable with my body and sexuality than I ever used to be.”

“You won’t always be expected to be naked as a doll. In fact, rarely. But you will be expected to engage in sexual acts as part of the live performance, and you may have to be naked. You’ll also be touched, and often without permission or warning. I don’t want you to see it as a sign of disrespect but more a matter of possession. To get you in the mindset that you are a Drayton Doll. You now belong to me.”

“I understand that.” I offered a weak smile. “I knew when I accepted this job that it wouldn’t be conventional. Much like working at Spiked Roses.”

“Take off your nightgown.”

The sharp command startled me, but I quickly did as he asked, trying to prove that I was completely on board and understanding of the intricacies of becoming a doll. I unbuttoned the top buttons, lifted the soft fabric above my head, and let the garment drop to the floor. I stood before him in nothing but white cotton panties. He rewarded me with a small smile. “I like that you didn’t pause or question. Very good.”

I smiled in return. I had too much counting on my new job here not to please him now. My future rested in the hands of this man.

He stood and took hold of the elastic on the panties and lowered them down to my knees. He ran his fingers through the small patch of hair on my mound. “After the medical inspection, we’ll send you to grooming. Body hair is not acceptable to becoming a doll.” He ran his index finger all the way down to my clit and pressed firmly. “I’m proud of you, Ivy. You haven’t flinched or pulled away from my touch. Most do until they are trained.”

I swallowed the gasp threatening to escape, watching below hooded lids as he fondled my sex. His touch burned, tempting me to moan in desire. But I stood silent, obediently allowing him to touch as he saw fit. I knew this was a test. My first of many. I knew he was seeing how controlled I could be, and how far I would go.

He removed his hand and stared directly into my eyes. “I can tell you’re going to be a very good doll.” He walked toward the door and turned around. “Remove your panties completely and follow me. It’s time we make you part of The Dollhouse.”

Chapter Five

Ivy

I followed Victor down the hallway completely naked. I tried to keep pace with his long strides. The pattering of my bare feet against the marble floor reminded me of my full exposure with every step. Would anyone see me like this? Did it really matter? Did other dolls walk around naked?

Victor looked over his shoulder and slowed his walk. His eyes scanned my unclothed body. “You’ll learn to be comfortable eventually. As part of your training, you’ll discover the beauty of your bare skin. It truly is art.” His firm, rumbling, baritone voice fired sparks in my core. A drop of arousal trickled down the inside of my leg. I pressed my thighs together to try to conceal what his voice alone had the power to do.

I knew what Victor was doing by making me walk naked. It was all about the control.

Yes, he had the control.

And it was working.

Now that we slowly walked down the hallway, I could fully take in my surroundings. I noticed that every piece of art and statue featured portrayals of people engaged in various forms of sex. Tapestries hung from ceiling to floor, all with people in the most intimate positions.

He followed my gaze to a painting on the wall. “Sex is beauty. Sex is art. You’ll be trained on how sex can also be twisted, dark, and taboo. You’ll soon be taught there is no shame in desire, but there is shame in denial of pure and animalistic thoughts and actions.” The way he spoke mesmerized me, like a siren’s song. “You’ll learn to not only expose your body freely, but your soul when you are performing my art. You’ll be trained in how to make your body look stiff like a doll, controlled by a make-believe puppet master, delicate and dainty, but also extremely haunting and eerie.”

“Will you be doing the training?” I realized the hopeful undertones in my question. The thought of his tutoring caused tingling in my breasts. I glanced down at my nipples, hoping my thoughts weren’t evident.

It was the damn control he had over me. Everything changed the minute he made me walk naked beside him. My senses were heightened once again, but this time, they gave me pleasure rather than the need to push them all away.

“Sometimes. I’ll oversee it, but we also have the best choreographers highly skilled in the art of seduction and submission to provide the lessons.”

“I see.” My cheeks grew warm.

He chuckled quietly. The quick act surprised me. I had only seen this side of him briefly and found it odd how much it contrasted with the authoritative demeanor he possessed.

The house was so much larger than I had anticipated. The Dollhouse was practically a palace in its size and grandeur. After walking down several more hallways, he held out his hand, ushering me through another corridor. I walked past him, still embarrassed that I was fully nude, yet my body hummed with every step I took. I caught an alluring trace of his spicy scent—dangerous, and so very masculine. Another bead of arousal formed between my legs. I hoped I wouldn’t be this wet during the inspection. The lack of control of my body’s reactions confused me. Was it Victor? Was it the nudity? Was it the graphic décor cascading down every tapestry covering every inch of wall space? Was it the fact I knew this was one of many things that would push my boundaries while becoming a doll?

We walked until we reached a large double door. Intricate designs of samurai warriors were sculpted into the wood just like the furniture that had been in my room. The majestic door handle appeared to be etched from elephant tusk with tiny emeralds around the keyhole.

“Was the door imported from Japan too?”

He nodded. “I lived there for many years on a base as a child. Out of all the many places I lived as a child due to my father being in the military, Japan was always one of my favorites.”

I swallowed back my anxiety as I stared at the door.

As if reading my mind, Victor added, “No need to be afraid.”

I stared at him for a moment, taking in his assertive expression. I stood with anticipation of what came next.

“Ivy?”

His deep voice jarred me from my paralyzing thoughts.

“Shall we?”

My body trembled as I walked ahead of him when he opened the door. I held my hands together in front of me and entered the room. The scent of flowers drifted through the air. One of the windows was open to allow for the breeze. White curtains framed the scenery outside of a large cherry blossom tree swaying in the wind. The tree wasn’t something you would normally see in New Orleans, so I knew that Victor must have also imported it.

I could feel Victor’s breath against my neck as he approached. “You look scared. You don’t need to be,” he whispered.

I noticed a petite woman dressed in a white dress with ruffles. Her eyelashes were massive like the women I had seen before at the Tasting and the one who came into my room this morning. Although small, she exuded a superiority and confidence that I had only seen in men. “You must be Ivy.” She motioned to a table I had seen once in a doctor’s office.

I stood in place, embarrassed that I was naked in front of another person beside Victor. For some reason, nudity with Victor heightened my sexual senses, but being completely naked in front of the doll made me want to conceal every part of myself. Female or not.

Victor placed his hand on my lower back and guided my to the exam table. “This is Lin. She’ll be assisting me as we perform your examination.”

My heart raced as I was led to the table. I had expected a doctor in a doctor’s office or clinic. Though the room had an examination table and many other medical-looking devices, it was as far from a clinic as one could get.

Victor gently assisted me up, until I sat on the edge with my bare feet dangling free. On both sides of the table were metal foot holders. I almost gasped out loud when I realized I would be expected to put my feet in them. My legs would be spread so wide. There was a small, metal tray, but I couldn’t see what was on it. A white cloth covered the entire tray and its contents.

Lin approached the table and smiled. “Please put your feet in the stirrups, push your bottom to the edge of the table, and lie back.” The gentle tone of her voice soothed my bundle of nerves. She had a thick accent of some sort. I hadn’t traveled enough of the world to know where hers originated from.

I quickly did as I was told, noticing that Victor stood behind the doll so he could observe all that was being done. This was clearly another test. If he did this to all of his dolls, I’m sure I wasn’t the first woman who fought the urge to demand privacy or to even ask for a real doctor. But again…

I would pass his test no matter what.

Everything depended on it.

I tried to control the flush of heat spreading across my face as I spread my legs wide and stared at the ceiling. The sound of latex gloves being donned by both Victor and the doll sent a shiver through my core. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

I could do this.

I could do this.

“You are going to feel something cold and then some pressure. Be a good girl and relax your legs. If you do as you’re told, this inspection will be over in no time.” The doll’s gentle voice took on a bit more firmness this time around.

Before I could take my next breath, something cold and metal entered my pussy.

“Just relax. The pressure will let up in a second,” Lin soothed. “Lift your bottom up a little bit.”

I did as she asked, trying my best not to picture Victor watching me do all of this. My legs were completely spread, and now my pussy was just as open. I wasn’t sure what Lin was exactly doing between my legs, but it seemed similar in actions to what any normal gynecologist—not dressed like a doll—would do.

“Her cunt is tight and shaped perfectly,” Victor said as he ran his gloved hand over the surface of my pussy lips in approval.

Lin nodded her agreement as she pulled out the metal device as Victor made the declaration. “I’m going to take your temperature now. Keep your legs wide.”

I gasped when I felt the tip of the thermometer against my anus. I jumped at the intrusion.

Victor gave a small swat to my pussy. “Stay still.” The swat and the command sent a jolt of electricity through my entire sex. I didn’t think his intent was to turn me on, but that is exactly what it did… what all of this was oddly doing to me.

The thermometer pressed against my hole again, but this time was inserted all the way in my bottom. Lin left it firmly in place and walked around the table to examine my breasts. Her hands grabbed each one and massaged. She then pinched each nipple causing me to stifle a moan. She nodded in approval and walked back so she stood between my legs once again.

The thermometer was pulled out slowly. “No temperature. She also has plenty of sensation in her breasts and nipples. From just the inspection, she appears completely healthy. I’ll send everything to the lab to be tested just in case.” The doll grabbed a damp rag and wiped the lubrication off of my pussy and anus. “You can sit up now, Ivy. When you go back to your room, there will be a cup waiting for you in the bathroom. Please collect your urine so we can test you for pregnancy.”

I quickly did as ordered and instantly met Victor’s approving gaze.

“Good girl. I’m pleased,” he stated simply. For some unexplained reason, his praise really meant something to me. I felt as if I was passing his tests with flying colors. I couldn’t imagine that every new doll was as willing to go through what I just did without some protest.

“Almost done, Ivy. Please roll over onto your stomach and spread your legs,” she directed.

I did as asked without delay.

“Lift your bottom up, and spread your legs wider.”

I spread my legs as wide as I could and pressed my bottom up toward the ceiling. I had a pretty good guess as to what would be examined next and tried to calm my swelling nerves. The intimate invasion wouldn’t end with just a thermometer.

“This part of the examination is going to hurt a little. I need to see how much your little bottom hole can take. We need to see how much anal training is required for you before you are ready to do some of Mr. Drayton’s exhibits.”

The doll approached me and pressed her lubricated finger to my exposed hole. She dipped her finger beyond the tight entrance and did the motion over and over spreading the lubrication all around. Just the finger almost seemed too much to bear in this unaroused state.

“It’s important that you are honest with me, Ivy. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Even if it stings, you must accept what I put inside you until the sting turns to pain. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“Do not cry out or ask me to stop until you absolutely cannot accept anymore. Are we clear?”

I nodded.

“I am going to start by putting one of my fingers inside and then adding a second.”

She did so, and I tried my best to relax and breathe deeply. I knew if I cried out now, I would risk being told I wasn’t ready to be part of The Dollhouse. The woman’s fingers went in and out in small, slow thrusts. My pussy pulsated along with every push and pull, and I resisted the urge to close my legs so that I could hide any signs of arousal. I knew Victor was watching closely, and the last thing I wanted him to see was what was involuntarily happening to my body.

“I am now going to put a small, slender dildo in. This may hurt, so you’ll need to calm down and allow the submissive sensations to take over.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what a dildo would feel like since I had never had that done to me before, but quickly felt it invade my backside. I squealed as it pressed past my puckered entrance. The doll paused for a moment, but then continued to press the dildo deeper within. I wanted to cry out and beg for just her fingers again, but I also didn’t want to fail what I was certain was another one of Victor’s tests. I took deep breaths as instructed, but the sting became almost unbearable. My bottom stretched to what I felt was impossible limits as the woman pushed it all the way in. I bit my lip and clenched at the edge of the table to quiet my building need to beg for mercy.

Lin reached between my legs and found my clit. She pressed firmly and rolled the tip of her finger in small circular motions. I couldn’t help but moan in pleasure and relax a bit.

“Allow the submission to set in. Relax and focus on submitting to the anal training. Know that with every stretch, you are getting closer and closer to where you can accept a dildo in your ass for the art exhibits.”

I did as commanded and allowed myself to feel something different. I couldn’t explain the sensation, but it was as if all the fight had left my body. The dildo no longer seemed as foreign. It actually started to feel pleasurable. I rocked my hips back and forth to match the circling of my clit. Heat radiated from my ass to my dripping wet pussy. I wanted to explode. Lights sparked behind my closed eyes, and my body tingled everywhere. The pleasure grew with every thrust in my ass and every movement of Lin’s finger. I couldn’t fight the urge to moan between my pants any longer. The sensation grew more and more until I cried out. Lin sped up the thrusting, and applied more pressure to my clit, until my body tensed uncontrollably and fire shot through me. I let out a small scream as the foreign sensation racked my body over and over again. The pulsating in my pussy took my breath away.

Lin stopped what she was doing and removed the dildo. I collapsed on the table struggling to regain my composure.

“Ivy is able to orgasm easily, although her bottom hole will need daily stretching.” She patted my behind. “Go ahead and sit up. The inspection is complete.”

I did as instructed, although my muscles felt like jelly. I looked into Victor’s eyes and saw satisfaction and… arousal? That was my first orgasm that didn’t involve sex or really anything sexual at all on Lin’s part, and I didn’t know exactly what to think about it. My mind swam, my heart pounded, and all I really wanted was to be comforted and held.

As if I had voiced my wants, Victor sat down on a large chair and patted his lap. “Come here, Ivy. You pleased me with how well you took all that. Very few dolls are as willing at first. It usually takes a lot more acts in submission before a doll would be as compliant as you just were.”

I rushed over to him and sat on his lap. I didn’t care that I was completely nude, or barely knew the man on whose lap I sat. The inspection and the dildo inside of me made me desperately want to be held. He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back as I nestled my head into his shoulder. His warmth, his whispered praise, his soft touch, made the odd beginnings of training at The Dollhouse worth it. The Dollhouse would be my home, and for some reason, at that very moment, I felt it. I nuzzled my face deeper into his neck and released a small whimper.

“Shhh… I couldn’t ask for more, my new doll. I think we discovered a special find in you. You are going to be absolutely perfect as a Drayton Doll.”

Chapter Six

Ivy

“It’s time we take you to get groomed and transformed into a doll.” Victor lifted me off his lap, the heat of his body instantly missed.

I hesitated, wanting to close my heavy eyes and just feel safe in his arms. Safety in a man’s arms was something I had never experienced… until now.

“Go on, Ivy.” He guided me through the same door we had entered. “The Dollhouse consists of two levels and ten bedrooms. The grounds are extensive, but you are forbidden to walk them unless permitted to do so by me or one of my staff, and only if escorted by another doll. There are two pools and a hot tub. You’ll be spending most of your time in the central room with the other women of The Dollhouse,” Victor explained as we walked down the hallway. “I have my own wing, and you are only allowed to go there by invitation.” He guided me to the right with his hand on my lower back. His fingers were only mere inches from my naked bottom.

As I walked down the corridor, my thoughts were overpowered by the opulence of the ornately decorated hallway full of Asian décor. The tiled floor, colored in white stone gave it a regal look. Elegant Tiffany lamps provided light intermittently along either side of the narrow hallway. At either end were two tall windows that reached from floor to ceiling. Tables flanked the walls of the hallway with statues of naked women and men placed on top.

We continued down the hall. “Here we are.” He opened the large double doors revealing a large bath the size of a pool. It reminded me of something you would see in the Roman days. Easily twenty people could bathe at the same time. Three crystal chandeliers hung above, catching the rays of the sun and painting shimmering rainbows along the walls. I scanned the room and noticed several dolls standing off to the side, appearing to be awaiting their orders.

Victor led me over to the pool and helped me ease into the warm water. “Sit down.” He motioned for one of the dolls to approach. “We’ll start by washing your hair.”

Engulfed in the magnificent waters, I closed my eyes and released a soft moan. Heavenly. The smell of jasmine filled my nose from the steaming water and a rich oil seeped into my skin as I sank as low as I could go, allowing the water to cover my shoulders.

“I feel like I’m in a dream.” I never opened my eyes in fear of waking up. The doll washed my hair, scrubbing an eternity’s worth of stress and anxiety from my skull.

I could have stayed in the bath for hours if it weren’t for Victor’s sharp militant command. “Stand and allow them to remove your body hair.”

I blushed as I quickly followed his command. For some reason the act seemed more invasive than the inspection by the first doll Lin. Maybe it was that my pussy hair displeased Victor, but I couldn’t help but feel some shame.

A dizzying sense of embarrassment assaulted me as another doll spread my legs and began to shave the curly hairs off my mound. The doll took special care when she spread my pussy to remove the hair hidden by my silky folds. I felt the need to snap my legs shut, but changed my mind the instant I glanced at Victor. He observed every move the young woman made, guaranteeing the job was performed to his level of satisfaction. One stroke at a time, the doll’s delicate fingers fondled my sex. Once again, arousal rose from within. I struggled to fight the sensation, self-conscious that an act of hygiene could stimulate such a reaction from me.

While one doll worked on ridding me of unwanted body hair, another doll applied my oversized eyelashes. I had worn fake eyelashes before, but never ones as large as the ones being glued on to me now. The weight of them alone felt as if I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open for long.

Painstaking moments passed by until I stood completely bare, with large doll lashes, in front of Victor for inspection. My body was clean and my long brown hair had been combed and hung straight down my back.

“Perfectly smooth,” he said as he rubbed his fingertip over my hairless pussy. “This is what’s required to be part of The Dollhouse. The people attending my galleries will want to be able to observe your purest and rawest form. And if the exhibit is meant to arouse, they’ll want to see your juices and your engorged clit.”

I nodded, making direct eye contact. Though I tried, I couldn’t keep the connection long and looked down at my feet.

He lifted my chin with a gentle nudge of his finger. “There is something different about you, Ivy. I’ve trained many dolls in this dollhouse, but there is something that stands out with you. You’re no ordinary woman.”

I held his gaze, almost forgetting I stood before him nude until the breeze from the open window brushed across my moist skin.

“I think you’ll fit into The Dollhouse seamlessly. But are you positive this is something you truly wish for? You’ve had a small taste of how very different your life will be. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I replied, captured by his sensual eyes. They were like a drug to me… the only drug I seemed to crave at the moment.

He nodded as he pulled my hair forward with both of his hands, allowing it to tumble over my shoulders. The hair barely touched my nipples. Such a simple act, yet it sent an intense rush of emotion through my body. Nerves swept over me as I wondered what was next. Would the training begin with something new?

His hand slid over my hardened nipple, resting just beneath the curve of my breast. His movements were so controlled, so entitled, so powerful. “You don’t flinch at my touch. You don’t struggle with my command. All I see is arousal. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“I don’t kn… know,” I stammered. Filled with desire I couldn’t explain, I struggled for air. If he could read my true thoughts, I wondered if his hands would work their way down to my hungry sex like I craved. What I really wanted was to be touched, but not by a doll—just by the master of them.

“I see that today has awakened your sexual appetite,” he said, reading my thoughts as his hand cupped the searing flesh between my legs. I remained still, even though I wanted to rub against his hand, fueling another orgasm from my ravenous body.

“I think I’ve always had the appetite,” I whispered, hoarse.

I sighed as his thumbs brushed across my clit and then pulled away completely. He teased me to the point of begging. What would he think if I did?

“You truly are a gem, my dear. My patrons will be pleased. I can do a lot of things with this level of passion in my art.” He moved a wayward hair from my forehead and examined my eyes. “You look tired.”

I nodded. Exhaustion caused my legs to feel like jelly, not to mention the sexual heat pulsating through my veins.

“I can see you’re not fully recovered from your extra curricular activities before arriving here. Also, I know you worked late and long hours at Spiked Roses, and I’m sure today has been overwhelming to you, no matter how well you did and accepted it all.”

I nodded. I didn’t want to appear weak, but lying would be futile.

“I’m going to take you back to a private room for a nap. Later, you can meet the remainder of the dolls, and then you’ll room with them. But first, you need your rest.”

I wasn’t going to argue. Sleeping sounded almost as heavenly as the bath I’d just had.

I walked with Victor down another hallway in a lust–filled fog, the need for sexual fulfillment titillated my very core, yet I wanted nothing more than to lie on the luxurious bed and dream of my future.

Victor opened the bedroom door and waited for me to walk past him. “Rest now. Be sure to eat all your food. You’ll need your strength for all the dancing required. I’ll be back later today for you after I meet with my production staff.”

I barely had enough strength to nod. “Yes, Mr. Drayton.”

“You did well today. I am glad you chose to join my dollhouse.” He closed the door behind him quietly.

* * *

Victor

“Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen,” I said as I walked into the large room that once served as the formal ballroom of the mansion. Today we used it for choreography and staging the art exhibits for the dolls. “I brought in a new doll, and I’ve been busy getting her situated.”

“Good,” Allen Blake, one of my choreographers, said. “We were short one once Livia vested out last week. I was thinking that we were going to have to regroup for Milan.”

“When can we start working with her?” Joseph Crane, the second choreographer, asked.

“Later today. I don’t want to overwhelm her too much at first. She just got inspected and groomed.” I smirked. “I don’t want her running out of here screaming in shock on day one.”

The men laughed. “The training for Milan is easy. It’s the Japan show that we have to worry about,” Allen said.

“Yeah, are you sure about this, Victor?” Joseph added. “The staging and vision for Japan is intense. Not all the girls can dance. And to hip-hop music? That is going to require each one of them to have rhythm and be able to find a beat. We have a bunch of white girls on our hands if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m aware of that,” I said, not prepared to bend on my artistic vision in the slightest. “They can do it. I know it will take work, but it’s how I see this one for the Japan showing. I want loud, booming music that each guest can feel inside their bones. It will be a completely dark room at first. The only sensation will be the music pulsating. Thick, deep, African beats booming all around. Then on a powerful crescendo, I want the lights to start flickering at the same cadence as the beat. With each flash of light, the dolls will be in a different pose.” I began to clap my hands to a rhythmic beat. “Black, light, black, light, black, light.” I stopped clapping and paused as Allen reached for a pad of paper and began taking notes. “Then when the song begins with the rap lyrics, I want the lights to be turned on completely as the dolls break into a choreographed dance all around the room. I want a total of eight different exhibits. But all the exhibits will be doing the exact same dance for the first song of the night. This will give the guests the opportunity to look around the room and see all the dolls in synchronized fashion.”

“What exhibits are you thinking for this one?” Joseph asked.

“I want one to be china dolls with a geisha vibe.” I began pacing with my hands behind my back as I listed the others I had pictured. “For Japan, I would like: broken dolls, vintage dolls, rag dolls, the perfect porcelain dolls, Victorian dolls, paper dolls I think, but not sure on this one, and then I want the exhibit with the two dolls performing the sexual acts on each other. But at the beginning of the exhibit, they must all be in absolute step to the choreography. It will be crucial.”

“So hip-hop music throughout?” Allen asked, looking up from his notepad.

I nodded. “I’m still working on the playlist now, but yes.” I continued to pace. “I’ll allow the choreography for Japan to be staged by the both of you, but I want you to imagine that a large puppet master is above each doll, contorting their bodies to the beat of the music.”

“What about the dildos? Do you want them in the dolls during the dancing?” Allen asked.

I stopped walking and looked at Allen. “Yes, of course. In fact…” I said with a wicked smile and thought, “I would like the dolls to have to do a lot of movement with their asses. Isolated moves with only their ass, highlighting to the guests that the plugs are inside of them. No panties. No bloomers. Bottom halves completely exposed.” I stared off as I pictured the scene in my head. “Yes. I want it dirty, gritty, dark and twisted. Make Japan gasp in shock.” I nodded as my smile grew. “Yes. That is exactly what I want.” I began to clap my hands again to a beat picturing all the dolls doing the dance with only their asses. “I want each anal dildo to be accentuated with a flower. Hand blown glass dildos with a different flower on the end of each one. So, when the dolls bend over, you’ll see a handcrafted rose, daisy, violet, or something of the sort protruding from their anuses. Various colors as well. Beauty yet perverse. Perfect.”

Allen snickered. “Where does your mind come up with these things?”

“You are going to get us kicked out of Japan, you know that?” Joseph said with a chuckle. “I swear to God, I thought Milan’s choreography was kinky, but you keep upping your game, Victor.”

“Milan will push the boundaries for sure,” I said. “But Japan is going to be different from all the rest. I want it to be talked about so much that it ripples throughout the entire art scene.”

“Drayton’s Dolls don’t just ripple through the art society, it is a damn tidal wave,” Allen said. “We sell out within the hour. Auctions are starting to be held for a ticket at one of your gallery showings, and the starting bid is higher than the amount I spent on my last car.”

“Lighting?” Joseph asked, pulling our attention back to the vision.

“Other than the flickering in the beginning, I’m not sure yet. I still have to work on that a bit,” I said as I considered the different options. “But you need to start working with the dolls right away. I know you are still working on Milan, but Japan needs to begin as well. It’s going to be a lot of hard work. That, and we have to get the new doll up to speed.”

Chapter Seven

Ivy

I stood staring out the window, the sheer-white curtain dancing around my body in the breeze. I had been up for over an hour waiting for Victor’s return. Lunch had already been brought to me, and now I had nothing to do but anxiously await Victor’s return. I decided to remain nude since that was how he’d wanted me earlier and hadn’t given me permission to get dressed. Plus, looking around, all I saw was the nightgown I had worn the night before.

Looking through the window, it amazed me how it was impossible to see any signs that I was in Louisiana from where I stood. The groundskeepers did an impeccable job of creating a lush and green landscape, but it could be anywhere in the world had I not known where I was. An array of birds chirping fascinated me. Some were low in pitch, others called out in a rapid staccato—songs of love, whistles that beckoned one mate to the other. How many varieties existed here? From just listening, it sounded like hundreds.

A firm knock, followed by Victor entering the room, snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned, greeting him with a welcoming smile.

“Hello again. I hope you slept well,” he said as he walked to where I stood.

“I did. I don’t usually nap, so it was nice.” Surprised that I had no embarrassment standing nude before him, I stiffened my spine a little more in pride.

“I apologize for being late. I had some issues with my gallery in London I had to address.” He stood beside me and looked out the window. He remained there a moment, silent, as he stared out. “Do you have any questions now that you have had time to think?”

“When will I be in one of your art exhibits?”

Victor merely glanced over his shoulder. “When you are ready. There are some dolls in The Dollhouse who have yet to perform in one. In the meantime, you’ll be trained and prepared, so if you are cast in one, you’ll be ready.”

Victor seemed different than before. His thoughts seemed far off. As he stared out the window, it appeared as if deep contemplation washed over his face.

After a long moment of silence, I whispered, “Mr. Drayton? Is everything all right?”

He snapped out of his lost thoughts instantly. “Yes.” He blinked clarity back into his eyes and said, “Just visualizing my next show is all. Did you eat all of your lunch?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Victor glanced over my shoulder to the unfinished plate of food. “How is that? I still see half of your meal on the plate.” His distant glare was soon replaced with authority.

I followed his gaze to the lunch dish and knew I needed to clarify. “I meant that I was finished eating lunch. I guess I’m not used to the large amount of food.”

Victor gave a quick nod. “I understand that. But when I told you to eat all of your meal, I was not asking. I was telling.” He walked over to the table, pulled out the chair, and sat.

I wrung my hands in front of my nude body. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure not to waste again.”

Victor gave another quick nod. “Yes, you will. But this is as good an opportunity as any to introduce you to a large aspect of being a doll. Discipline.” He patted his lap. “Come over here and lay across my knee.”

I almost gasped. My heart beat so hard it actually hurt. I didn’t hesitate, but every step seemed as if I were walking through quicksand. I had a pretty good idea what he intended to do. A spanking? Was he actually going to spank me?

I stood before him and did as he asked without being told again. I would never question Victor, for he held my future in his hands. The cotton of his pants, the firmness of his thighs, the short distance from my nose to the ground, all reminded me of the precarious position I was in.

“Once again, you surprise me, Ivy. You didn’t resist my order. Because of that, I won’t spank you for as long, or as hard as I was intending. But I do want you to get a taste of what discipline is like.”

Before I could reply, a stinging swat to my behind took me by surprise. I couldn’t help but gasp. Another swat, then another, and another.

“We are strict with The Dollhouse, or the dolls will come off as women rather than inanimate objects. It’s all about the mindset when you are performing. Everything about The Dollhouse is about stepping out from normal society and the life you once knew. It’s about structure, discipline, accepting a level of twisted reality, and releasing the woman so you can become the doll. When I tell you to do something, whether it is a command or a request, you are to do exactly as I say. I expect an almost robotic nature in response to everything.”

My whole body jumped when his palm cracked across my bottom. I could feel the breadth of his palm, the stretch of his fingers—his hand was so large it nearly covered both my cheeks entirely and imparted such a sting that try though I did to hold myself obedient and still, there was just no way I could.

“You left everything to become a world famous Drayton Doll.”

His spanking as ruthless as his scolding, he slapped my bottom again and my legs kicked, an involuntary jerk that snapped my feet up off the floor and sent shockwaves radiating through my flanks.

“You tried to destroy your life and your body with drugs.”

As the spanking continued, heat bloomed under my skin, inflaming everywhere his hard and capable hand met my flesh. “I do not want you spending your first few days in bed and exhausted. It is important that you take your health seriously. Especially as we work to get that garbage out of your system.”

He continued to pepper my backside rapidly. I did my best to squeeze my eyes shut, clench my teeth, and take the punishment like a good doll would do—or I assumed would do. But after the twentieth or so spank, I couldn’t help but yelp and wiggle with each continued slap. My backside reminded me of the hot sands of the desert.

Just as I thought I couldn’t take it any longer, and was about to scream for mercy, he stopped the spanking.

“Stand up. The discipline is done.”

I quickly stood, feeling a little dizzy at first. I wanted to rub my bottom, but thought better of it. Victor’s expression made it clear he meant business.

He stood up and gently placed a fingertip between the folds of my pussy. Removing his moist finger, he smiled in satisfaction. “Your arousal pleases me.”

The heat burning my face almost matched the heat on my ass. I couldn’t resist looking down at my feet. I could hear him walk over to one of the ornately carved dressers. I glanced up in curiosity. He pulled out a doll dress the color of the sky, followed by some white bloomers with lace ruffles at the hem. He then walked over to a closet and pulled out a pair of black shiny shoes that looked like a pair I had worn once when I was a little girl.

“Go ahead and put this pretty dress on. At times, you’ll be expected to be nude, and at times you will not. For now, you may get dressed and become a doll.”

Chapter Eight

Ivy

Dressed in lovely shades of silks and satins, the women of The Dollhouse stood as Victor and I walked into the room. Intricate hanging chandeliers casting prisms of light in all directions were scattered along the twelve-foot-arched ceilings. Crystals hung between each, creating an illusion of enchantment and mysticism. Colors, beauty, grandeur, and luxury were only a few ways I could think to describe this room. Lush, floral pillows were scattered about on oversized chairs and couches. Tapestries meshed with the woven rugs that blanketed the white marble flooring. A metal chime near the open window tinkled a captivating melody.

“Dolls, I would like to introduce our newest addition to The Dollhouse, Ivy Adams. I have no doubt that you’ll welcome her and make her feel at home.” The end of Victor’s statement came out as a warning rather than a statement.

I wanted to hide behind Victor. I didn’t want to be stared at by everyone. What would they think? Would they welcome me? I knew how bitchy women could be, and entering a room full of women could be considered the same as entering a room full of hungry lions. I just prayed the dolls would be understanding of how terrified I was to be doing this.

I scanned the beautiful women and noticed that all seemed interested. A young woman, with beautiful blonde hair, stared at me with huge blue eyes. The massive black eyelashes only intensified the color in them. She smiled and nodded the minute I made eye contact with her. The reassurance wasn’t something I thought I needed until now, but the tiny sign of acceptance did wonders for my confidence.

“Perfect timing, we were just about to begin today’s choreography for the Milan show. We have a lot to cover today,” a tall slender man in black pants and a black tank top stated flatly. He was lean, and by my guess of his body type, a dancer as well as one of the choreographers Victor had mentioned.

I watched the pretty blonde wince at the statement, and wondered if I myself should be concerned. All I could think about was how I was awful at dancing and hoped I wouldn’t make a complete fool of myself on my first day.

“That’s Mr. Allen Blake. He’s one of the choreographers you’ll be working with,” Victor said to me. I glanced over my shoulder and met Victor’s steely gaze. “It’s expected that you follow everything the choreographers say. They are your direct supervisors and have the power to end your run as a Drayton Doll if they deem fit. So, I advise you to work your ass off for them. They aren’t easy to please. Allen can be a real asshole.”

“That’s what you pay me to be,” Allen said with a proud smile.

Victor walked closer to Allen, leaving me standing alone and feeling vulnerable in my costume. Every other woman in the room was dressed as a doll, and I knew I shouldn’t feel like I stood out from the rest of them, but I truly felt like a circus clown in my getup. Dolls and clowns were just about the same level of freaky in my book.

I went and stood beside the pretty blonde when Victor motioned for me to do so.

“Did you get my notes about the changes I want in the show?” Victor asked Allen.

“Yes, and I already incorporated them into the routine. We’ve got it handled,” Allen answered.

“You’re really pretty. Blue is a good color on you,” the blonde girl whispered. “My name’s Janie.”

From behind, Allen issued a warning with a steady, quiet tone. “Quiet, Janie.”

“Sorry, Mr. Blake,” the girl stammered as she shuffled her pink ballet-shoed feet.

“I’m going to let you get started,” Victor said as he walked over to me. “Ivy, being a doll requires a lot of hard work. No one truly understands the discipline, dedication and the mental and physical conditioning it takes.” Victor’s hand touched my lower back with a firm warning. “I have extremely high standards.” He pressed my lower back a little firmer and turned to walk out of the room. He paused and looked over his shoulder. “Ivy isn’t familiar with the rules of The Dollhouse. I expect you seasoned dolls to offer your advice and guidance. For the first week Ivy’s here, if she gets in trouble, you all get in trouble.” Closing the door behind him, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders.

“Janie,” Allen began, “I think we can start the first position training off with you. The rest of you dolls can introduce yourselves to Ivy.”

Visibly bashful, Janie’s round cheeks blushed even more than the circle pink make-up that had already been applied. She followed Allen to a raised cherry-wood platform. It reminded me of what someone would stand on if they were doing a fitting for a dress or a suit. Without being asked, she lifted her pink polka-dotted dress in a curtsey, and froze in position—her eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, her neck angled to the side, her toes pointed inward. She was so still that it didn’t even appear as if she were breathing. Right before my eyes, Janie the woman, became Janie the doll.

“I’m Amber,” another pretty doll dressed in yellow said, snapping my attention away from watching Janie pose for Allen who was adjusting the lighting above where she stood to cast shadows down on her face, giving an eerie and haunting look to the woman’s features. Amber smiled warmly. “Don’t worry. By the end of the week you’ll feel right at home. It takes a few days, but you’ll love it. It’s an odd job, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not with all the perks you get.”

Still staring at Janie, I asked, “You don’t think this whole doll thing is weird?”

“No,” she answered quickly. “I mean, maybe at first. But not when you start to see the art in it. When you get to be part of the actual art exhibit, you can feel the energy in the room. Mr. Drayton is truly gifted in his vision. You’ll see eventually.”

Watching Janie get manipulated by having Allen raise an arm, and tilt her head more, then taking photos of her creepy position, I couldn’t fathom how posed dolls could ever be considered art, but I wasn’t going to argue with Amber either. That definitely wouldn’t be the best way to kick start my stay in The Dollhouse.

The next few moments were a blur of introductions from the other dolls. I did my best to memorize all the names, but the flurry of female attention overwhelmed me. The hushed chatter of women buzzed in my ears, and my damn eyelashes were fluttering non-stop with all the people vying for my attention. I had never wanted to just close my eyes to simply rest my eyelids before.

“Quiet down over there, dolls,” Allen said. “Or you may put me in the mood to use the size up for anal training.”

The groans in the room replaced all the idle chatter.

I leaned in and whispered to Amber, “What’s anal training?”

She shrugged. “It’s different for each person. But basically, it’s getting your anus ready for the glass dildos used for the exhibits. All of us have them inside of us during the shows. It’s part of the act. To help keep us stiff and in position at all times. Hours with the dildos in us, and sometimes they are uncomfortably large.”

My mouth dropped in shock. Glass dildos the entire time? Uncomfortably large?

“Don’t look so shocked.” Amber giggled. “You better get over being inhibited real quick here. There’s no privacy and no secrets in this dollhouse. Even if you tried. And if you’re worried about having something stuck up your butt,” Amber’s giggle turned into a full laugh followed by a snort, “you better get over that real quick too.”

I looked around embarrassed to see if anyone heard what Amber and I were talking about. The rest of the women, however, had gone back to their business and hushed conversations as if I was already ancient news. Amber remained standing beside me, trying her best to control her laughter.

A loud slap, followed by a squeal, pulled my attention back to Janie bent over, still holding her doll pose. Allen was spanking her with a wooden paddle like one you would see used in a fraternity or something of that sort.

“Is that part of the training? Being hit with a paddle while standing in position?” I asked, trepidation causing my voice to crack.

Amber glanced over my shoulder with little concern. Apparently seeing another woman get paddled was of no surprise to her. “Oh, Janie’s moving. As a doll, you are expected to remain motionless unless it’s choreographed for you to move. You sometimes have to hold the same position for hours. So, part of training is discipline if you move.”

“Discipline?” I had no idea how Amber could say the words she did as if they were absolutely normal.

“Janie is being trained right now and watched closely by Mr. Blake. He has certain expectations, and you better comply or your ass will be on fire by the time your turn is over.”

I watched as the paddle cracked against Janie’s behind over and over. The pretty woman cried out as she struggled to stay in position. I didn’t want to watch any longer—feeling as if I were invading Janie’s privacy somehow—but like a gruesome accident on the side of the road, I couldn’t resist.

I took a deep breath, attempting to extinguish the electricity buzzing in my veins. “Does Mr. Blake do all the training and discipline?” I glanced over my shoulder and watched as Allen continued to spank Jane without mercy. Watching the act made my stomach flip and, surprisingly, my sex pulse.

“I wish. Mr. Blake is the easiest. There is one more, Mr. Joseph Crane,” Amber replied.

“What about Victor?” Just saying his name caused me to miss his presence. For some reason, him leaving the room gave me a void that I felt his absence caused.

Amber shook her head. “You do not want Victor to train you at all. Trust me. The worst thing is when he’s the one putting us in the position and watching how long we can or can’t hold it.”

“Why?”

Amber gave a wicked smiled. “You’ll see for yourself. But I’d much rather have anyone but Victor.”

Allen requested another doll to come join him at the podium as Janie made her way back to where I stood with Amber.

Amber shook her head. “You did this to yourself. You should have been able to remain still a hell of a lot longer than that. If Victor starts seeing you can’t hold the basic position, he’s going to pull you off Milan.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion,” Janie said as she gave a dirty look.

Amber chuckled with another shake of her head.

“So not fair!” Janie whispered. “The plug is two sizes larger than the one I wore yesterday. How the fuck am I supposed to stay still in that position with something so heavy and wide inside of me?”

I looked at Amber for explanation. Plug? “As in butt plug? Different sizes?”

Amber smiled. “You’ll see what size plug you get in a few moments.” She looked at Janie. “Well, try to ignore it. You make it harder on yourself. Milan pays really good, and you are about to wiggle yourself right out of a spot in the show.”

“I don’t know why they don’t realize that we would stay still much easier and longer without something shoved up our assholes,” Janie said with a pout. “And to expect us to stay in position while he spanks us with that damn paddle is just barbaric.”

I found Janie’s honesty refreshing, if not terrifying too. If she felt this way, then certainly I would too. I couldn’t imagine having a butt plug put in me and then expected to wear it for long periods of time. “Do we have to wear a plug every day?” I asked.

“No,” Amber said. “There isn’t a strong routine here. We just do as we’re told. Some days there is training. Some days there are just long hours of grueling dancing and rehearsal. Sometimes there are days where we get to just read and relax—though those are rare. Occasionally we are rewarded for a good show or if they feel we have worked really hard in preparing. When that happens, we can leave The Dollhouse and go shopping or to the movies. Maybe see friends and family if you still have any who care about you after the long time you’ll spend away from them all.”

Janie crossed her arms against her chest, continuing her pout. “I want a reward.” She adjusted her body again by shifting her feet, grimacing as she did so. “This plug is too big. I hate it,” she whined. “I seriously doubt anyone else is wearing one this big. Allen can be a fucking sadist sometimes.”

As if Allen’s ears were burning, he called out another doll’s name, and then another. Each lady of The Dollhouse rose with poise, rigid posture, refinement, and fingers pressed tightly together as if they were made of plastic, and made her way to the podium. I sat anxiously waiting for my name to be called. When it finally was, my heart stopped.

I took slow steps toward Allen Blake, each one being used to build my courage. Fear mixed with curiosity almost numbed my senses. I lifted the smooth material of my dress, and at the same time, bent at my hips to touch my toes as I had watched all the dolls before me do. I then reached behind me, and lowered my bloomers to my upper thighs. Feeling the cool air against my upturned bottom sent shivers across my skin.

“Spread your legs.” The command wasn’t harsh, just simply stated.

I did as ordered.

“Since you’re new, we’ll start with a small one.” Allen reached around with the plug in his hand so I could see what it looked like. It was metal, and a small purple stone sat at the base. I found it odd that something so beautiful would be planted in my backside and I’d be expected to wear it for an unknown amount of time. This was not sexual play. There wasn’t anything sexual about it. It was simply a step in preparing to become a doll.

I could hear Allen put on a pair of latex gloves. Mere seconds later, a moist finger inserted its way past my tight opening. No warning was given, just a finger smearing lubrication all around. Before I could come to terms with the finger in my hole, it was followed by the tip of the metal plug.

“Relax,” was all I heard as the plug pushed past my rosebud.

A gasp, a clench of my fists, were the only things I could focus on. A biting pain, mixed with erotic fascination had my pussy beckoning for more. It hurt at first. Hurt more than I had expected, but with every breath I took, the pain turned to a heated pulse in my core. The throbbing teased my need for more. The sting strummed at my lust.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Why was I enjoying it? Hating it… but enjoying it so much more.

With a slight pat on my bottom, Allen broke the sexual spell. “You’re finished. Go ahead and join the other dolls. I’m not going to work on your pose yet. Not until I figure out how to work you into the exhibit.”

I stood up and lowered my dress, and pulled up my bloomers to cover my invaded bottom. With every step toward Amber and Janie, I could feel the weight of the plug rooted in my ass. My sexual desire growing with every move I made, I wondered if the women could read my ravenous thoughts.

They hated the plug they said. I did not. I liked it. A lot. Maybe too much.

When I sat down next to Amber, I understood why it took Janie a few moments to get comfortable when she had approached us. There really was no way to forget that something was planted inside of you. Applying pressure to the base of the plug only made the intrusion more obvious. I actually considered standing, but didn’t want to single myself out as different, or have the other dolls snicker at me for having the virgin ass.

“Wait until you get to the size they put in me,” Janie whispered. “You’ll be wishing for that small beginner one again.”

Training had begun. I was now officially a Drayton Doll.

Chapter Nine

Victor

I didn’t like leaving The Dollhouse when I was in the middle of rehearsals for a show, and since we were now training for two shows, I really didn’t have the luxury to leave. But I had made a commitment to Spiked Roses the minute I’d decided to become a managing member and owner of the club. Since I would be leaving the country for Milan in the next two days, I needed to make sure that I attended the managing members’ meeting and see if the men needed anything from me before I left.

I knew they had several Tastings scheduled that I, unfortunately, would not be able to attend, and hopefully they wouldn’t be counting on having any of my dolls attend them as they had just recently done. I had actually enjoyed sharing my dolls with the club, which I hadn’t realized I would. I had always been a loner growing up with very few friends. Being a military brat and forced to pick up and leave so often during my childhood, friendships weren’t something I experienced often. Spiked Roses and the men who sat around the table had been my first taste of it, and I actually liked having them in my life. They weren’t exactly the type of friends one would normally choose. They were ruthless assholes if you really had to put a label on them. Killers, thieves, powerful pricks, and men who really didn’t fit within my artistic circle. But I trusted them. I counted on them. I could relate with every single one of them.

“Let’s get this meeting started,” Matthew Price began. “Kenneth is still on vacation with Anita, so while those fuckers get suntanned on the coast of Spain or somewhere similar in Europe, we’ll just pick up the slack.” He smiled and looked around the table. “Who wants to start?”

“I’ll start,” I said. “I’m leaving for Milan in two days to set up my next exhibit. I should be back in a couple of days after the showing, and, of course, you can always reach me if needed.”

“How is Ivy Adams doing? Is she going to work out for you?” Matthew asked.

I shrugged. “Too soon to tell, but I think so. I can tell she really wants the job. She’s rough around the edges, but I think with a little fine tuning, we can smooth her out.”

“Which reminds me,” Matthew said. “Since we fired Ivy, we are in need of hiring a new waitress. I started going through the applications earlier today. One stood out to me because the candidate says she is related to you, Alec.”

Alec Sheldon looked up from his glass of whiskey surprised. “Related? What are you talking about? Who?”

Matthew looked down at his pile of papers and sifted through them until he pulled out an application. “Her name is Makayla Knox. She wrote down that Alec Sheldon is her uncle.” He looked up at Alec who seemed stunned by the news. “Is she lying?”

Alec shook his head slowly, his mouth open, and his eyes narrowed. “No, she’s not lying. Not exactly.”

“How the hell are you old enough to be an uncle to a grown woman?” Harley asked.

“I’m not her uncle. Well, not really.” Alec shook his head, and took a sip of his whiskey. “Long story.” He nodded toward Matthew. “Go ahead and hire her if she’s qualified. It’s been years since I’ve seen her, but I’ll vouch for her. Her father and I used to be business partners and best friends. Last time I saw her, she was just a little girl.”

Matthew nodded. “All right. I’ll go ahead and bring her in.”

“I have something to bring up,” Harley Crow said, which was odd. The man wasn’t one for speaking up in a meeting often. He mostly listened and sat quietly. “It actually involves you, Victor.”

“Me?” I asked, surprised how anything involving Harley—the assassin and true bad boy of the group—had anything to do with me.

Harley nodded. “I’m hearing some talk that concerns me in my circle of acquaintances. It could be nothing, but Drayton’s Dolls are being discussed a lot.”

“Discussed? How so?”

“I’m not sure,” Harley said. “I’ll dig some more, but the fact that your name is being brought up at all with these types of people has me a bit worried.”

“Well, I do have a lot of shows coming up. Milan, Berlin, Japan, Dubai are all within the next couple of months. I’m sold out for all already, so maybe it’s all the hype around them.”

Harley shook his head. “I don’t think so. The murmurs that are floating around involving your dolls are with the kind of men who don’t appreciate art unless it’s something they can steal or kill someone over.”

“I’ll put out my feelers too,” Lennon Wolf, the art dealer and thief, said. “I haven’t heard anything other than Victor’s art shows are the highly sought out events in the art world.”

“It could be just that,” Harley said. “But just to be sure, I really think you should up security. Just to be safe.”

I didn’t like hearing that Harley was concerned. He wasn’t one to be dramatic or overly cautious. “All right. I’ll get some more security put in place, and have them travel with us as well.”

Harley seemed satisfied with my answer. “I’ll dig deeper.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, feeling uneasy with the information. Harley ran with the worst of the worst. I didn’t like my name being on the lips of any of them.

The meeting continued for another hour or so, but my mind kept drifting off on all that was still needed in getting ready for Milan. Before leaving this morning, Allen had assured me that the new doll Ivy had picked up enough on what was needed for Milan, though needed a reminder on discipline due to some recent behavior. He said she was a quick study, however, and did cast her in the show regardless. I didn’t have time to hear about what role she was cast in, or her behavior, but I would try to make time when I returned this evening. I didn’t like throwing someone new into the mix, but Milan really was an easy art exhibit to start with. It required holding the positions rather than choreography she would have to remember. Milan was more about discipline and focus rather than skill and precision. But I made a mental note to make sure that Ivy Adams did indeed have the discipline required. If not, I would not hesitate in the slightest to show her exactly the level of discipline I required to be a Drayton Doll.

Chapter Ten

Ivy

Victor had summoned me to his study, and I arrived in the ridiculous doll dress with ruffles and all as he’d instructed I always wear while living in The Dollhouse. His back was to me, and I could see he was dressed down as much as I imagined he could be; white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, loafers with no socks, and trousers in the palest gray. As soon as I arrived, he gestured over his shoulder for me to close the door, but he didn’t turn to face me. I stopped a few feet away after doing as I was bid. Hesitation tangled at my feet before I finally had the courage to speak.

“Allen said you wanted to see me?”

“I spoke with Mr. Blake today to see how you have been progressing in your training and if you were ready for Milan,” Victor said. “Do you feel you are?”

“Yes.”

I saw his fists clench behind his back as tension took over his body as he stiffened. “Yes, what? Have you not worked on training in submission in addition to the choreography? It’s been a couple of days since I saw you last. When I left you, I felt submission for you would have been the easiest part of your training.”

“I mean, yes, sir. I’ve been learning as fast as I can… sir.”

“It sounds like it’s getting easier for you to say the word now.” He finally turned to face me, but his expression was somber, verging on grim. “But you took too long to say it. Showing respect shouldn’t be a struggle.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m trying.” I ducked my head repentantly and stared at my hands folded in front of me. I needed this fucking job, and if using the word ‘sir’ was the way to keep it, I damn well would make a habit of saying it all the time.

Sir.

Sir.

Sir.

“I know it’s not easy to do if you aren’t used to it. But for the full effect of my dolls to come off correctly, I have to have complete submission. You have to let go of that outer shell you once had. There is a big difference in acting like a Drayton Doll and being one. The people who attend my exhibits can tell the difference. I can tell the difference.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

The silence that hung after my words was painful, and I fought the urge to lift my head and look at his face. It was only when he closed the distance between us and touched my chin with his fingers that I felt I was permitted to look.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’re removing your anal plug during your training.”

Fuck.

How the hell did he know that? Were there cameras in the bathroom?

I tried to look down at the ground so I wouldn’t have to see the judgment in his eyes or give away the fact that I was fighting back the need to curse the motherfucker out for invading my privacy in the bathroom, but he held my chin in place, glaring into my eyes.

“I thought I made the rules and expectations clear.”

“You did,” I said softly. “It’s just that—”

“You’ll be expected to wear the plug for as long as we say,” he interrupted. “And now you’ll be expected to wear an even larger one. Do you understand?”

Larger? What the fuck? How was that even possible?

“Of course, sir. I understand.”

It wasn’t that I truly hated wearing a plug, or that it hurt. It was that I hated how aroused my body became, and that there was never a release. My pussy always dripped in need, and the hunger for touch—any touch—was almost too much to endure.

Victor didn’t so much as smile. His fingers dropped from my chin and, without the support, my head simply dropped forward again. My breath caught in my chest and everything went dim around me. I felt faint, and my fingers tightened in the folds of my striped and fluffy dress, desperate to clutch something, anything at all, for support.

“You need to be punished for your disobedience, Ivy. It’s the rules of the dolls. I explained this as well, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” The word barely squeaked out, breathless and aching. I looked up into his stern face, and the tears that had built in my eyes finally dared to stream forth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“So you have a choice,” he continued. “Punishment or leave The Dollhouse, but this isn’t going to be as simple as the small spanking I gave you before. Your choice. It’s always your choice.”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t. And do what? How would I survive? How would they survive? And even though there was a lot I didn’t like about becoming a doll, I really had liked so much more that it made the job a good one in my book. “I choose punishment,” I said, not believing the words as they fell from my lips.

Fuck! Was this really happening? Was I really going to allow this to happen? Plus, I didn’t exactly consider the last spanking small. To me, that had definitely been a punishment.

“Go stand on the doll stand.” The command shook my nerves, and I uttered a small moan of fear, mixed with aroused anticipation. The doll stand. I had heard stories from the others about the stand in Victor Drayton’s study that had me shaking in my patent leather shoes.

“Now,” he repeated with a bite to his voice.

I shuddered and rushed to the stand on the right side of the room as he demanded. It was surrounded by full-length mirrors, so there was no way I could miss my reflection. I wanted to close my eyes but resisted, keeping them open. I didn’t want to face the scared waifish doll in front of me, but knew I had no choice. Taking a deep breath to try to prevent myself from crumpling into a pile of cowardly bones at my feet, I could both see and taste the salt of my tears as they slid down my face. I could smell the scent of recently used glass cleaner and feel my breath struggle its way from my tightened throat, hearing the quivering of it all the more keenly. My senses were alive. Senses that I used to constrict with drugs, but now welcomed as I learned some control and focus through doll training. Except for now. Right now, my heightened senses were only making my nerves worse.

It felt like an eternity before his hand came to rest on the back of my head. He stroked his fingers through my hair and whispered in my ear, “You have the makings of a good doll, Ivy. I’ll be easier on you this time because of your obvious attempt at submission. But from this moment on, I expect you to obey the rules of The Dollhouse. The only way this project will work is by following the strict protocol set in place.”

“I understand.”

Did I? Maybe. It appeared to be working. Drayton’s Dolls were world-renowned and people traveled around the world to see them in the little hidden gems of galleries set up specially for the eccentric, rich, and famous.

“Pose,” he said calmly. “Look into the mirrors and pose.”

I considered asking what type of pose, but decided it best not to. Turning my toes inward so they nearly touched, and cocking my head to the right, I lifted my shoulders and arms like they were connected to the imaginary strings controlled by a twisted and demented puppet master above me. And with the slightest movements and angles of my body, I truly became the creepy doll that had scared the shit out of me as a child in my room.

Without warning, Victor swatted my ruffled-panty-clad ass as I remained motionless as I knew dolls were to never move once in position. The first searing spank shocked me. The second and third weakened my legs, yet I held my morbid position in fear of what would happen if I didn’t. He continued to spank as my face remained emotionless—wide-eyed with my large lashes fluttering as my only sign of discomfort.

“This time, I’ll only use my hand against your dress. But if you remove a plug again, you’ll feel the sting of leather against your bare ass.” He spanked with each syllable of his spoken words. “Have you ever been spanked with a belt?”

“No, sir.”

I cried. Not because of the hurt, but because of the humiliation. Standing there staring at myself as Victor disciplined me was far worse than anything I could have imagined. The spanking didn’t hurt. Not with the ruffles. But the act in itself overwhelmed me with shame. I wanted to be a doll. That was the truth of the matter. I don’t think it was until that very moment standing there—holding my position—that I realized just how badly I did.

The spanking continued, swat after swat, each one growing harder than the one before. “Please… please, sir.” The sniveling wasn’t comely and I knew it. But the position was becoming difficult to hold. My shoulders ached and my lower back spasmed.

And just when I thought I would break my stance, Victor’s stopped the swats and walked away. I could hear him move across the room as he no longer was in the reflection of the mirrors. I started to cry even harder for some bizarre reason, and the weight of his silence only made it worse.

After what felt like an infinity of agonizing time, he finally returned and stood behind me. His body was so close that I could almost feel his heat. I gasped when he took hold of the elastic of my ruffled panties and lowered them over my ass and to my upper thighs. Because of the way I had my feet pointed inward, it forced the cotton fabric to stretch and pull against my legs, making it even harder to stay in my doll pose. He then grabbed my butt and spread my cheeks. He placed a moist finger at my anus and pressed firmly but without entering.

“If I wanted to claim your ass right now, could I?” He pressed his finger past my tight entrance.

I tensed and bit my lip to keep from crying out. The answer was yes. He knew that. I’d signed the contract in the hiring paperwork that gave him the right. I’d waived all hard limits. Victor Drayton had full access to do as he chose.

He thrust his finger deeper. “The purpose of the anal training is to prepare you so you can manipulate your body in any way and with whatever anal device we choose for an exhibit without unnecessary discomfort. We want you to be able to pose for long periods of time without grimacing and breaking the spell of the inanimate doll.”

I nodded, because finding words was impossible in my heated and embarrassed state.

Victor pumped his finger in and out a few more times and then withdrew it completely, replacing it with the cool glass of a butt plug. He inserted it without pause. The stretch to my anus caused me to clench, which only elevated the biting sting. It was much larger than anything I had ever had put inside of me. It hurt. It hurt badly, and no matter how much I tried to relax and adjust to the size, I just couldn’t.

“You are dismissed, Ivy. You need to continue with your training to fully be a Drayton Doll. The ability to submit to the reality of a doll is truly an art. Remember that. Go ahead and return to The Dollhouse.”

His dismissive command stabbed at my heart. Would I get no praise for not breaking my pose once? For not arguing? For not resisting? I’d stood still the entire time, and I didn’t get a single word from him that he was satisfied with my performance.

Lowering my arms and pulling up my panties, I took a cautious step off the doll stand. I wasn’t sure how I was going to walk out of the room with such a large plug inside of me, but I managed to. Just barely. I staggered out and went for the door at a near run, all the while pawing at the loose wisps of my hair and the tears that streaked my face. I didn’t look to see him—but I didn’t want to. It would have hurt entirely too much. His lack of comfort, or a soothing word, was by far the worst punishment I had yet received. I didn’t like disappointing Victor Drayton in the slightest.

Chapter Eleven

Ivy

Days had passed filled with hard work, structure, and discipline unfamiliar to me before arriving at The Dollhouse. Hours upon straight hours of the day were occupied with training, exercise, but also a sense of sisterhood I hadn’t expected when first arriving or accepting the position. When my fellow dolls of The Dollhouse were not engaged in preparing for the upcoming shows, we got some down time, but not much. Though our schedule was damn near back-breaking, I really was enjoying my time preparing for the shows.

The choreographers spent several hours a day teaching us the dance steps for the Japan showing on top of preparing for the other shows that were more about the poses rather than actual dancing. But not Japan. The entire concept around the Japan exhibit was the dolls moving and dancing to the beats of dark, deep, and booming hip-hop music. The music was absolutely gritty, raw and hypnotic. But I sucked at dancing. This was not an exaggeration, but a fact. I could not dance no matter how hard I tried. I was the cliché of a white girl failing miserably at trying to keep a hip-hop beat. If there was a beat, I was always a second or two behind it. I sometimes felt as if I looked like I was having a seizure. Every other doll seemed to be able to find the beat and remember the moves. I, on the other hand, really, really sucked. I dreaded the choreography sessions, awaiting the wrath of Allen Blake or Joseph Crane as their frustration grew with my lack of coordination.

“No, that is not how that dance step goes!” Allen hollered as the private lesson began. He had already excused the rest of the dolls, forcing me to remain and continue on until I got the moves right. “Come on! How many times do we have to practice this before you get it right? Count in your head. Five, six, seven, eight. Count.”

I cringed as he picked up his foot and slammed it down on the marble floor over and over with the cadence of the beats I was supposed to be following, making a slapping sound that echoed in the huge room being used as the practice space. I stiffened my spine and wiped the sweat off my forehead. I wanted to ask what the fuck he meant with counting, but I didn’t want him to grow any angrier or more frustrated than he already was.

I knew that Allen and Joseph were supposed to be some of the best choreographers in the world, and they took Victor Drayton’s art exhibits extremely seriously, but at this point, they seemed to only be bullying me around instead of actually teaching my uncoordinated ass.

I fucking tried. I just had the classic two left feet. All this dancing made balancing a tray full of hundred dollar drinks to impatient wealthy men while wearing stilettos up a staircase seem like child’s play in comparison. How I missed the simplicity of Spiked Roses.

Allen paced back and forth in front of me, muttering something under his breath. He wasn’t much older than I was, and his young, smooth skin crinkled as he furrowed his brow with frustration. My dark hair was pulled in a loose braid, some of it falling into my eyes. I knew I looked like anything but a proper and pristine doll. I was like one of those dolls tossed in a toy box and forgotten with matted hair and one eye that won’t open any longer. Nothing but a broken doll—who couldn’t fucking dance!

“I’m sorry,” I said in a quiet voice. I hated knowing Allen was disappointed or angry with me. It was the same with any of the training performed at The Dollhouse. In my mind, The Dollhouse was giving me the opportunity for a real future, and when I didn’t excel at something, I felt ashamed. A complete failure.

Allen whipped around to face me. “You’re sorry? Again, that is not how this works. You don’t apologize in dance. You work your ass off with practice and focus. Dance is a skill that anyone can learn if you try. So, stop with your damn excuses. None of my choreography is so hard that you shouldn’t be able to do it. All the other dolls seem to do just fine. So, stop your useless apologies and take it from the top.”

I broke eye contact with him, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I raised my hands, pointed my toes inward, tilted my head, and posed as a doll as we were expected to begin the dance in. I then waited for Allen to start the music again and launched into the dance, my body moving in time with the beat the best that I could.

And so my seizure to hip-hop music began.

I loved the sound of the music, but my body seemed to disagree. Allen was ruthless, stopping the music and making me begin from the beginning again. Sometimes, he wouldn’t let the music play until I achieved the perfect posture, and because Allen wasn’t satisfied easily, that took attempt after attempt. My body ached, and I wondered if I would die from an actual seizure before I miraculously got this dance down.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Allen shouted, waving his hands.

“What did I do wrong this time?” I asked, surprised at how bold my voice sounded. I’d been doing everything I could since arriving to behave and not push the choreographers, but I was about to tell the asshole off. I was sticky, sweaty, annoyed, and over this damn hip-hop shit.

Allen stared at me with a cold gaze. “First of all, a six-year-old’s posture is better than yours right now. You have got to remain stiff and doll-like even in the dance. It’s key for this art piece. You must remain completely rigid with just moving your shoulders up and down in an isolated move. Think robot if it helps. But you can’t bend. You can’t look like the loose noodle that you do now. Don’t think of this as a dance. Think of it as art. Respect the fucking art!”

I gritted my teeth together to keep from snapping back at him. I felt I was as stiff as I could possibly be and still move. My frustration grew as I struggled to not scream and throw a tantrum right then and there. I expected the world to end before Allen ever gave me somewhat of a compliment, and I almost wanted to storm out of the room and give up.

“Second of all, you missed several steps,” he went on as he began pacing again. His favorite thing to do during the lesson was pace. He hardly, if ever, took a moment to sit down in a chair.

I let my shoulders slump as I listened to Allen list my flaws and mistakes. I needed a quick moment of reprieve from all the stiffness that he didn’t feel I possessed yet my sore and achy body definitely disagreed.

“Now, are you ready to start again?” he asked. “Fingers together, body firm, and stare straight ahead. You are a doll. A porcelain and perfect doll. Not a rag doll.”

I nodded mutely.

“Five, six, seven, eight…” Allen shouted above the music. “Dance like a doll! Stiff. Stiff!”

I brought my shaking hands up to begin the dance as if a puppet master was up above me controlling my body, fumbling through a few steps that I just couldn’t get down. With each beat I missed or step I messed up, I cringed and knew the anger was probably bubbling up under Allen’s skin. How I wished that there really was a puppet master in control of my every move. At least then, he could be the one to blame for my awful dancing.

“Stop,” Allen moaned, grabbing my head with his hands. “What are you doing? Why is your head moving around like a damn bobble doll? Are you even trying at all? I don’t think I have ever seen someone dance as shitty as this before. Are you just fucking with me? Is this a prank?”

I stood there with beads of sweat on my upper lip, a lump lodged in my throat. All I did was look forward. If I looked at him directly, I knew I would end up bursting into tears. I couldn’t help this at all. Maybe it was because I never got to take ballet classes as a little girl. We were too poor and there wasn’t anyone who had the time or energy to invest in a white trash little girl’s extracurricular activities. I don’t know. But I couldn’t fucking dance no matter how hard I tried. This was painfully obvious.

Allen once again demanded that I start dancing, clapping his hands to try to help me get the rhythm right. Doing my best, I jumped back into the music. For the next hour, it was repeat, repeat, repeat. Every time I missed a beat or appeared too sloppy in presentation, Allen snapped at me or forced me to repeat the dance again from the beginning. With each insult he threw at me, I became more and more unstable, the urge to quit dancing and storm out of The Dollhouse forever growing stronger with each one of those damn beats.

“Are you ready to start dancing for real now?” he demanded.

“Are you ready to stop being a short and balding prick?” I stopped the moment the words came from my lips. They had been bubbling on the tip of my tongue and had just come out without me having control over it. My heart stopped… I knew I was in trouble. No way was Allen going to excuse me calling him a name or insulting his appearance.

Even without looking at Allen, I knew that he had stopped pacing and was glaring at me with his hands folded behind his back.

“What did you say?” he asked slowly, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Finally finding the courage, I looked at him and made eye contact, even though I wanted to run straight out of the large room.

“I’m doing the best I can,” I said slowly, my voice shaking a little. “Battering me with all the insults I’ve already heard before won’t make me any better.”

“Allen,” Victor’s voice sliced through the silent air. “What’s going on in here?”

“She’s a hopeless cause. I have tried, but nothing I do is getting through to her. There is no way she can be in the Japan show. I just can’t spend anymore time on just one doll,” Allen said to Victor, acting as if I weren’t even standing there in the room.

Victor looked at me, which I’m sure was an awful sight. I could feel sweat dripping down my spine, which only added to the already sweat-drenched doll dress I wore. “Are you having a hard time learning Japan’s routine?”

“Yes, sir.” I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. I didn’t want him to think I was out of shape.

“Have you been practicing it?”

“Yes, sir.” God, if he only knew how much. Maybe if I removed my shoes and showed Victor my blistered feet hidden inside these damn doll shoes, he would truly understand just how much I had been practicing it.

“Allen,” he said, “please leave me alone with Ivy.”

Allen nodded and walked out of the room without saying a word. I’m sure he was relieved to get the hell out of there and away from my clumsy self.

When the door clicked behind him, Victor walked over to a loveseat and sat down. He patted the seat next to him. “Come here.”

I had to will my body to move toward my impending doom. I had a bad feeling about this. Was this where he would fire me? Step after step, I inched my way toward him. I stood before him and made eye contact.

He patted the couch again. “Sit down.”

I paused for a moment but then did as he commanded, unsure of what was going to happen next.

“Why are you struggling so much to learn the dance? I want the truth.”

I took a deep breath. “I can’t dance. I never have been able to.”

“I purposely worked with the choreographers so that high dance skill wouldn’t be required to get the energy and look we want. The others don’t seem to have an issue with learning it.”

“I know. I just can’t seem to make my body do what I want it to do. I really am trying though.”

“Trying hard enough?”

“Yes, but Allen never thinks so,” I muttered. “He makes it even harder with his judgy eyes and shitty remarks.”

Victor nodded. “Allen can be firm. He demands perfection, but that is what I pay him for.”

“That’s just it. I can’t be perfect at this. There’s no way. I’m doing good with the poses for the other shows, but the dance routine is just impossible. Maybe Japan isn’t for me.” My lip began to quiver.

“I want you to dance for me. Do it just like you’ve learned.”

I stood from the couch and made my way to the center of the room. Nodding at Victor to start the music, I got into my doll position and tried to block out the thoughts of failure flooding in.

I could do this. I had to do this. Being a doll was too important for my future. I couldn’t allow one dance to ruin everything.

Without another word, I launched into the dance, my body and mind struggling to remember every step while staying on beat. I continued to dance, never looking at Victor. I just danced, and danced, and danced, letting the music fill my body and tingle the tips of all my senses that I had been focusing so hard on containing.

I danced until I reached the end of the song. I stopped as the sound of the final beat echoed against the walls and high ceiling.

When the music faded completely, all I could hear was the sound of my pulse rushing in my ears. I knew that Victor had watched my every move, but I didn’t pay attention to that fact. Nor the fact that I actually danced the song all the way through which Allen had yet to allow me to do without his constant criticism.

“That was beautiful,” he said quietly. “You captured my vision completely.”

I snapped my head up to look at him and found his eyes and expression soft. “Really?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I wanted. The purpose of my dolls is show that on the surface of so many things everything appears so perfect, but hidden beneath—if you really look—there are so many flaws. I like my dolls stiff, hollow, hard. Just like a shield. But if you break that shield. Crack the plastic. You’ll see what really is lurking underneath. Your dance provided the few peeks needed to see the flaws underneath the flawless outer protection. Bravo,” he added, making me blush at the compliment.

“I want to see you dance to another song I was considering adding to the lineup. I want you to approach this piece with fire in your heart and ice on your mind. You need to have passion, but you also need to focus and concentrate. I can see you get lost in the music, but then you lose focus on the skill. No doubt Allen’s frustration.”

“You want me to just dance? With no choreography?”

Victor nodded. “As a doll. You know the poses. You know what is in the other pieces and how I have positioned them all to fit my vision. Combine all of those positions. Feel the music. Use those overpowering senses you spoke of and allow them to take over. I want to see what happens when you do.”

I nodded as I watched Victor change the music and start a song I hadn’t heard yet. It was still hip-hop in nature but also had eerie and haunting voices singing in the background—almost operatic. The song alone had the power to give me chills, but I couldn’t help but feel Victor’s burning gaze sear my skin and my hands grew a little shaky as I tried to find the right doll moves for the song. I wanted so badly to give the song and Victor’s vision justice.

Victor walked over to where I stood as I awkwardly tried to position my body to the beat of the music. He gently placed his hands over mine from behind me, and I wanted to jump back. His hands felt like fire burning the backs of my hands, and his chest against my back scorched my flesh. He leaned forward, our faces inches apart, and I did everything to keep from turning my head to look at him.

Carefully, Victor guided my hands up and down to the beat, manipulating his perfect little doll in the positions he desired. His breath thick against my ear, he swayed his body, pulling mine along with his.

“Blank emotion. Blank thoughts. Again, picture yourself a cover up. Perfect exterior but nothing but darkness inside. Get in the right head space, Ivy, and the rest will come naturally. Being a doll is about showing off the pretty face only to cover up the hidden secrets inside.”

When we reached the end of the song, he stood back and returned to the loveseat he’d been sitting on, leaving me in a daze. All I could focus on was the heavy aroma of his essence.

“Now you try,” he prompted, nodding at me.

I chewed on my lower lip, but launched into the dance slowly once the music that was on repeat started again, pulsing at the beats and fumbling in a few places. As I progressed through the song, making mistake after mistake, I wondered if he would yell at me like Allen would.

Finally, I reached the end of the chilling song and took a step back, the tears already burning the backs of my eyes. I awaited his outburst. I really had felt the music. My senses hummed and zinged through every nerve ending, but I actually welcomed the sensation.

But nothing harsh came from Victor’s mouth. All he did was lean forward to rest his elbows on his knees and say, “Very nice. It is rough around the edges, but with polish, you’ll have a jewel. That needs to be your solo piece for Japan.”

I blinked, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears in my eyes, and I let out a long breath. “You think so? Wouldn’t another doll be able to do this better?”

“I see exactly what I want to see,” he said with a warm smile. “I can see how the music enters your body and gives you a light in your shadowed eyes. Big doll eyes with so much depth behind them. The music and morbid movements of your innocent form lights you, but I can still see the hidden secrets present. It’s perfection. Purity yet tainted. Art. Very few can capture an artist’s vision, but you just did.”

I stared at the ground. The intimate softness of his voice unnerved me.

“I don’t want you in the other performance,” he declared. “For that one to work, all the dolls must be completely in sync. But not this one. This one is about you allowing your senses to control you. Finally give them the power rather than squashing them with drugs.”

I sighed in relief. “So do I show Allen this dance? Or will you?”

“I’ll let Allen know what’s going to happen.” He stood up and made his way toward where I stood. “From now on, you’ll have your dance training with me. I would hate for Allen’s method of choreography to extinguish that special something I see in how you perform the song.” He moved a piece of my hair off my shoulder. “That’s enough for today.”

I nodded and walked over to my water bottle to take a long and needed drink. Awkwardly, I wiped at my mouth and smiled. “Thank you, sir. I would enjoy that.”

Victor barely smiled, but it was enough to send the heat rushing to my face. “I’ll see you tomorrow when we leave in my jet for Milan. When we return, you and I will get together to work on it further and to get the lighting and costume right.” He nodded toward the door. “Go shower and get some rest. You did good today. Really good. But tomorrow will be busy as we leave for Milan. The next couple of days are going to fly by really fast and can be exhausting.” He nodded toward the door again. “So go rest up. You’ll need it.”

With that, I practically ran out of the large room. As soon as the door shut behind me, I allowed myself to take a few gasping breaths. I held my hands up in front of me to see them shaking a bit, and I grasped them firmly to ease the tremble. Finally, I leaned against the wall, grinning in pure happiness.

Victor captured my breath, my heart, my soul. There was something about his dark eyes that sent me swooning, and his voice was deep and methodical.

“Ivy…”

I whipped around to see Victor standing in the doorway with his hand out. “You forgot your bag.”

My eyes widened, embarrassed. I rushed to meet him and took my bag from his hand. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he said as he retreated back into the dance room.

All I could do was nod.

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and he shut the door.

I took a calming breath to steady my nerves, and I stumbled down the hallway to join The Dollhouse with my senses alive.

Finally, I felt alive.

Chapter Twelve

Victor

Nervous wouldn’t be the right word to describe how I felt as we were about to open the doors to the Villa di Brera Gallery in Milan. Many would be, and definitely should be considering the price people paid to see the dolls, but I never was. Nervous was just not an emotion I was capable of having. Edgy and excited would be more fitting to describe the sensations coursing through me as I stood ready to make my grand entrance as I introduced the dolls. Like all the galleries I chose to exhibit in, Villa di Brera was known for allowing artists who had sexual elements in their art to show there with zero limitations. But I had no doubt in my mind, the patrons of this gallery had never seen anything like what I would be presenting with the showing of my dolls this evening.

Tonight wouldn’t be at the same level of taboo as I had planned for Japan, but I was most certain that, by the end of the exhibit, many would be leaving and talking about Victor Drayton and his dolls for weeks, if not months, from now.

“Ready?” Allen asked, as he walked up to my side. “The doors have been opened, and they’re filling the room now.”

The hum of energy from the other side of the door that opened to the gallery told me that we had a full house already. I didn’t want them milling around for long, but decided to allow the anticipation to build for a few more moments. Right now, the guests were staring at nothing but red curtains surrounding the room. White walls, red curtains, dim lights, and nothing else. I was sure they were all anxious to see what was on the other side of the blood-red fabric.

Taking a few moments, I straightened my tie, pulled down my vest, ran my fingers down the buttons, and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

I motioned toward the audio visual man we hired for the event to let him know it was time to begin the show by shutting the lights off completely. Nothing but complete darkness.

A canvas of black waiting for me to create my art.

A tiny voice over the surround sound speakers broke through the hum of whispering guests. So soft was the voice. So delicate. So sweet.

The voice of a doll.

“Fuck and drink. Fuck and drink. Only fuck and drink,” the doll chanted throughout the room.

Silence.

Darkness.

“Fuck and drink. Fuck and drink. Only fuck and drink.”

Silence.

Darkness.

Then massive bass boomed from the speakers all around. So loud and so powerful that I knew the guests of the gallery could feel the vibration rattle their teeth.

Silence.

Darkness.

“Fuck and drink. Fuck and drink. Only fuck and drink.”

A burst of bright light hit as I entered the room. The spotlight centered on me with nothing but flashing lights and shadows all around.

A deep twisted version—laced with venom and crazy undertones—of the delicate voice of before called out from the speakers, “Fuck and drink, motherfuckers. Fuck and drink. Only fuck and drink, or fucking die!”

Silence.

Darkness.

Another burst of light and the red curtains dropped. Dolls were posed to perfection as all the spectators stared on in disbelief.

The twisted and insane voice of before called out in a hypnotic tone, “Drayton’s Dolls. Drayton’s Dolls. Drayton’s Dolls.”

Finally, the music started and the dolls began the show as they manipulated their bodies into haunting and creepy figurines.

I entered the room, raised my glass of scotch I was holding in my hand to everyone, and nodded as my silent way of saying that the exhibit was now theirs to explore. “Fuck and drink,” I said loudly. “Fuck and drink, and enjoy.”

The guests applauded, and I could see that the intro had completely captivated all. The evening was just beginning, but I had already won over the room. Now it was the dolls’ turn to do their part.

Like all my exhibits, I spent the first hour doing nothing more than greeting the patrons and answering questions. In the beginning, the onslaught of complete strangers approaching me used to be overwhelming, but I had grown to accept it was all part of being Victor Drayton the artist. Eventually, the crowd of people all wanting to meet me would dissipate enough so that I would be able to step away long enough to go and observe my dolls in action. I always wanted to see that everything was going off as I had envisioned, and tonight was no different.

Breaking away, I grabbed another scotch from the bar, and found Allen across the room.

He was the first to speak as I approached him. “The show is running perfectly. Every single doll is doing the exact same choreography. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Nodding, I glanced around the room. All the dolls were in their individual pieces acting out the art that was assigned. Tonight’s showing was by far my most sexual exhibit of all. Most pieces were borderline pornographic, but that was exactly what I wanted.

“How is the new doll doing?” I asked, scanning the room for her exhibit.

“Last I checked, nervous, a bit tense, but that adds to the look, so we are good.”

I took a sip of my scotch, inhaling as I did so. “Excuse me for a moment. I’m going to go see for myself.”

I walked past all the different dolls posed in extreme sexual poses. Some were half dressed. Some were even nude. I could see that the guests of the evening were fascinated with what they saw and the subtle moves of the dolls throughout the night. But I was only interested in seeing how my new doll was performing in her first show.

I walked up to the exhibit that Ivy was cast in and could see that the exhibit was a hit. It, by far, had the most spectators over all the others. Ivy had her hands placed on a toy box, bent over with two other dolls doing the same. Their eyes were wide open, and each of their pouty lips were stuffed with pink pacifiers. Each doll wore no bottom half. They had matching pink dresses, with curly pink ribbons hanging from their pigtails. Their butts were on full display with pink dildos pressed inside their anuses that matched the pacifier in their mouths. The three dolls were plugged in both ends. Pink Glitter fell from the sky above, raining magical sparkles on their ivory colored skin.

I watched her with the same fascination as everyone else. She remained completely still, inanimate in the best of ways. I couldn’t have asked for a better performing doll. But there was so much more as I watched her. She was beautiful, but she also was captivating. But as I glanced around at everyone as they watched her hold her pose on the toy box, a surge of jealousy washed over me.

I didn’t like that others could see her naked behind. I didn’t like knowing that others stared at the pink plug spreading her tight little hole. And I also didn’t like that on certain beats of the music that played, the dolls moved to another position, revealing her shaved pussy as she did so. Her bottom half was exposed to all, and I hated every second of it.

The other dolls being exposed didn’t bother me. Just Ivy. For some reason, I didn’t like sharing this doll.

“Victor?” Allen said, snapping me out of my growing jealousy that would have quickly grown to rage had I not been distracted. “Victor, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Renshaw. He is a gallery owner in Thailand and would like to discuss booking you. Do you have a minute to talk with him?”

I glanced one last time at Ivy, knowing I needed to walk away and focus on something else or risk the possibility of making a scene as I stormed up onto the platform and covered her nudity with my jacket.

“Yes, of course.” I walked away with my potential new client in tow, determined to not look at Ivy—my doll—for the remainder of the night.

Chapter Thirteen

Ivy

The culture, the friendship, and the bonds with the dolls had become my new way of life. As much as my life had become a dream in many ways, I still longed for more attention from Victor. I hadn’t seen him other than a quick passing since Milan. My curiosity to really get to know this mysterious man consumed my thoughts. I couldn’t help but wish to please, to submit, to succumb to his sexual desires in every way he wanted. I damn well lusted for the man after the small sampling of his dominance. I wanted to do anything… anything to be near him. It didn’t help that my body remained in a constant sexual haze from all the training. Anal plugs became a way of life. Masturbation wasn’t allowed—so the rules stated—but many snuck the release regardless. I still feared the consequences if I did. I knew there were cameras all around the house, and my luck would be me fingering myself right in front of a camera and getting fired from a job that I really enjoyed.

I had been on my best behavior until Janie came up with an idea after the day of grueling dance rehearsals was over. Janie, and a few other dolls, had decided to sneak out to the pool and wanted me to come. I hadn’t been to the pool since I had arrived, and the idea of the cool water soothing my aching muscles tempted me. I knew we weren’t allowed to go outside without permission, but the lure overtook any reason I should have had. And besides, Victor wouldn’t fire all of us, but I still was nervous on what he would do if we purposely broke one of the rules.

“What if we get caught?” I asked in a whisper. Many of the other dolls were already turning in for a night of sleep, and I wondered if I should be smart like them and do the same.

“Then we get caught. It won’t be the first time you’ll get in some trouble while living here.” Janie giggled. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like whatever discipline Victor comes up with. He likes to spank his naughty dolls.” Her giggle turned into a full-fledged laugh.

“I don’t want to be spanked by Victor or anyone as a form of punishment. The idea terrifies me, and does not turn me on.”

Janie shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I’ve had it done to me by Joseph, and well… I wouldn’t mind it again.” She reached for my hand. “Come on, we won’t get caught if we’re quiet. The other girls are waiting.”

I almost said no. The words were right at the tip of my tongue. My mind screamed for me to remain in the main room, but my heart and sore body really wanted to sneak off to the pool. What was the worst thing that could happen? The pool was still on the property, so it wasn’t like I was leaving the house really… not technically. I had to just ignore the order from Victor that we weren’t allowed outside and especially after dark. The pool had lights so it wasn’t really dark, I tried to reason.

I nodded and stood with Janie’s hand entwined with mine as I finally said, “Let’s go.” We joined the others waiting and snuck our way outside.

Hours were spent skinny dipping and laughing. The water, the warm air, and the starry sky made the risk worth whatever punishment lay in store—if we got caught.

Janie swam up and playfully splashed me. “Aren’t you glad you came?” she asked.

I smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m glad you invited me.” As I watched the naked beauty float in the water before me, I decided to ask a question that had been on my mind for a while. “Janie, have you ever performed in one of the art exhibits that require more sexual elements? I heard Japan is going to be super kinky, and from what I’ve seen…”

Janie smiled, and her eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “Yes, a few of them. They’re a lot of fun.”

“What are they like? Are they hard? All these posing exercises have me worried. It seems like it would be difficult to hold for so long while complete strangers are staring at us. Milan was really intense, and I just can’t imagine going kinkier than that.”

“It’s odd at first. But you get to the point where you don’t even notice the people.”

“Do they really make someone else insert the dildo like I’m hearing will happen for some of the Japan pieces?”

“Yes, unless the art you are cast in doesn’t require it for some reason. In one exhibit they did in Paris, two dolls were cast in a piece that had them using the dildos on each other. They each had to thrust the dildo into each other’s ass to the time of the beat. I think they are doing that one again for Japan too. It drew a lot of attention.” Janie must have seen the shock on my face. “It all sounds scary just hearing about it, but once you are in the room, feel the energy, and get in the right mind space, the performance aspect kicks in. You’re no longer Ivy. You truly become the doll you’ve been trained to be. The costume, the eyelashes, the makeup, and the music help make that all happen.” She playfully splashed me. “Don’t worry. It all happens naturally. Trust me. You’ll do great in Japan just as you did in Milan.”

I watched Janie drift off, taking in her perky breasts as they bobbed above the surface of the water. I tried to allow her reassuring words to put my mind at ease, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would really be able to pull off the whole sex doll act in front of complete strangers if I was cast in something that required audience participation by violating my anus.

Floating on my back, with my eyes closed, I heard the boots thumping against the stamped concrete of the patio as someone approached. The sound of more boots followed.

The shadowed figures on the edge of the pool signaled one thing—we had been caught. Victor and his hired night guards stood in a row on the edge of the pool staring down at us.

Victor’s dark gaze darted to mine and I swam back a tad at the intensity on his face. It quickly softened as he scanned my nude body somewhat concealed by the water of the pool

“Everyone out of the water.” He pointed at the ground in front of him and the night security guards. “I want complete silence.” He scanned the worried faces of each woman scurrying out of the water, as he waited with his arms crossed against his chest. When some of them attempted to reach for their dresses that had been cast off, Victor stated firmly, “Leave the clothes where they are. You didn’t mind your nudity swimming. Why care now? I see you all have decided to break the rules tonight. Apparently, we’ve been too easy on all of you if you so quickly forget the rules and consequences.”

I exited the pool as quickly as everyone else and stood before him. My eyes cast down to the puddle of water caused by my dripping body. As afraid as I was, I couldn’t help but feel excitement in the fact I got to see Victor again. It embarrassed me to admit how much I’d missed him in such a short time.

When everyone stood before him, he paced back and forth. His expression didn’t change. “There are rules for safety. There are rules for submission. There are rules for order. These rules are to be obeyed. You all know The Dollhouse has strict rules for a reason. You can’t be expected to be uniform and proper dolls in the next exhibit if the people who pay thousands of dollars to attend one showing can see a spark of rebellion and wild in any of you. That is not my vision for the dolls. It’s expected for you all to live and breathe complete surrender rather than behave conventionally. You have to be submissive in every inch of your being or the complete effect will be lost. You all know this. Sneaking out of the house, and swimming around as if there isn’t a care in the world, sets back all the work we have been doing by days. We want your bodies stiff, rigid, and not loose and limber like they were swimming around in the pool.”

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, confused by my growing desire. His voice, his dominance, his stare. I stood before Victor completely nude and at his mercy. The need for his discipline overwhelmed me. Janie was right. I actually was getting turned on by his lecture and could only imagine what a spanking by him while I was wet from both being in the pool and my desire would feel like.

I wasn’t really into BDSM other than to make some money doing a Tasting at Spiked Roses. I was pretty good at faking that I liked it for a wealthy man who paid me do so, and I also was good at being submissive when need be. But never before had I actually truly been turned on. And Victor Drayton was definitely turning me on.

I looked up from the ground and made eye contact with him. His eyes darkened before he averted them from mine. He remained still for a moment, silent, as he scanned the beautiful bodies before him.

“You’ll all be punished for your disobedience.” I looked down at the ground again, trying my best to not smile or giggle. “Follow the guards to the main room. They’ll deliver your punishment.”

I couldn’t help but feel disappointment. I didn’t want discipline—whatever that was going to be—by the hand of a night guard. I wanted Victor.

Fuck.

“Except for Ivy. Since this is your first true punishment, I’ll handle it myself,” he added. I didn’t have to look up to know he was staring at me. I could feel the heat of his gaze.

I stood in the darkness of the night as the dolls followed the security guards back to the house. I saw pity in Janie’s eyes as she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

Victor placed his hand on my lower back, reminding me of when we’d first met, and led me through the house as well.

“We’ll go to my room to deal with your little stunt alone.”

Shame restricted me to answer with a simple, “Yes, sir.”

“You knew you were breaking the rules. You give me no choice but to punish you. I have to keep the structure present at all times. If I go soft, then you all will continue to push and push. You understand that, right?” he asked as his eyes traveled to my exposed breasts, only inches from his body. “My word is my word. The dolls know that, and I need to make sure you do as well.”

“I understand.” My voice cracked as we headed up the steps to the house.

He led the way into his private quarters, locking the door behind us. I eyed the room, my gaze settling on Victor as he approached a fireplace. He knelt down and lit the fire—a welcomed heat to my chilled skin from being wet and naked for so long.

“Come stand by the fire and warm up,” he ordered softly.

I slowly walked to where he stood, offering a hooded glance and a smile.

“Once you’re warm, I want you to walk over to that doll stand in the corner and pose for me.” He walked toward a reading chair and a table that had several glass decanters on it. He picked up the one filled with a caramel-colored liquid, and poured himself a drink.

My heart twisted in embarrassment that I still had no clothing on, and he wanted me to pose naked. I made my way over to the doll stand with as much poise as I could. My wet hair still dripped down my back, making me even more aware of my nudity. I took a step on the wooden podium, clenching my trembling hands in front of my stomach, pointed my toes inward, and angled my torso to the right while I tilted my head to the left. I stood there in my perfect doll pose and waited. The dripping water from my hair trickling over my breasts, combined with the night wind blowing through the open window, acted as soft kisses to my nipples.

“You’re truly a piece of art standing there like that. Raw, pure…” His deep voice surprised me. The compliment so straightforward, yet so complex. “I want to know your thoughts right now. Don’t hold back. Tell me exactly what you’re thinking.”

“I’m afraid.” My voice seemed to bounce off the walls around me.

“Of me or the impending punishment?”

“Both.”

In the silence of the room, I could hear him take a sip of his drink. The crackling of the fire enhanced the masculine energy around me.

“I want you to lower your hand and touch yourself. But except for one hand, remain in your doll position.”

I did as he asked, parting my honeyed folds with my fingers.

“Are you wet? Does your pussy scream to be entered?”

I almost choked on a moan. “Yes. So much so.”

“Rub yourself. Collect your juices.”

I did as he commanded, trying not to moan at my own touch.

“Why are you wet, Ivy? Is it the knowledge that you’ll be disciplined?” He paused, and I could hear him take a swallow of his drink. “Is it not knowing what exactly I plan to do?”

I remained silent. I didn’t know the answer to that.

“Touch your clit with your fingertip and roll it gently.”

I did as he asked, grateful for his command. A soft sigh escaped my lips.

“Who are you thinking of as you touch yourself?”

I paused. Did I have the guts to tell the truth?

“Place your finger at the entrance of your cunt. Leave it there.” He paused. “Tell me who you’re thinking of right now.”

“You,” I answered, barely above a whisper.

The heat on my face matched the heat between my legs. I held my position and stared at the ground, not being able to process all the emotions flooding through me.

“Look at me,” Victor commanded as he approached and stood before me.

I looked up and held his gaze as he spread my legs with a gentle push of each thigh with his cold fingertips. He cupped his palm against my pussy. “There’s something about you,” he whispered. “I feel your submission by just looking at you. Such control and refinement when you try. Power and strength exudes from you, yet you’re so out of control at the same time. It’s almost like I can see the struggle going on inside. Almost as if loud drums attack your mind while you concentrate on silencing your body while in doll pose. Your body is still, but your eyes are not. That is what I so desperately try to capture with my art. You have mastered it.”

Silence filled the room as he studied me. His eyes searched for some sort of explanation.

“You know I must punish you, right?”

I nodded.

He sat down on a high-back wooden chair and patted his thigh. No words needed to be said for me to know that he expected me to lay over his lap. I did without a moment’s hesitation. I had been spanked before on a spanking bench, and a St. Andrew Cross as part of Tastings, but never just over a man’s lap in an old fashioned and traditional way before I had met Victor. Now, I almost welcomed the connection.

His hands lifted my hair off my back and gently placed the tresses over my shoulder. His fingertips caressed my spine, moving down lower until he made small circles on the cheeks of my ass—each caress languid and easy. He had a masterful touch, demanding compliance before the first sting of correction. I stared at the dark cherry wood floor, readying myself for the punishment in store.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as the first slap made contact with my bottom. A fire broke out over my flesh as his hand showered a spanking very different than anything I had experienced in role-play or as part of a Tasting. This one hurt. This one hurt in the most shocking of ways as Victor swatted me relentlessly, one slap after another, growing in force and tempo. All control I thought I possessed escaped me as I struggled to not beg for mercy. My groans, mixed with spank after spank, rang off the walls. His firm, muscled thighs brushing against my body gave me a sense of security through the pain as the spanking continued. His heavy breath mixed with my gasps and whimpers as his hand landed over and over against the inferno of my exposed ass.

“Please!” I called out. “Mr. Drayton, please. It hurts.”

“Yes, Ivy. A punishment does.”

Spank after spank flooded upon me, each one building in intensity as my body writhed in discomfort. The power of his hand rivaled any wooden paddle or leather strap that could have been used.

All poise I had tried to maintain going into the punishment, vanished. I wanted off his lap and out of his room as quickly as I could. I tried to wiggle myself free which only had his grip on me tighten and his slaps upon my ass come down even harder.

This hurt! This fucking hurt! Who in their right mind would actually want to be spanked? I sure as fuck didn’t! I’d thought I did… and maybe I would think it again out of plain stupidity and forgetfulness. But right now… right now, I wanted it to stop!

Just as my body reached its maximum ability to accept the discipline, the thunderous waves of punishment ceased. I stared at the ground, watching my own tears drip to the floor. I didn’t want to move. I was too scared that Victor was only pausing to catch his own breath, but he would eventually start up again.

Luckily, Victor pulled me up and wrapped his arms around me. I sat on his lap and whimpered against the lee of his neck like I had after the medical examination.

He kissed my head and whispered, “The punishment is over.”

He had kissed me.

I felt it.

It was a kiss. So tender. So affectionate.

So unlike Victor Drayton.

As the sting in my ass subsided, my submission grew. A need to please Victor took over every one of my loud and demanding senses. I reached for his hand and placed it over my breast.

“I want to please you.” I released a soft gasp when he allowed me to stand up and lower his pants. I licked my lips. “I want to feel the weight of your cock against my tongue.”

For a moment, I wondered if Victor hated dirty talk from a woman, but I couldn’t help it. His dominance, the pain that throbbed on my ass only matched the throbbing in my pussy. I wanted to taste him. I needed to taste him.

Victor nodded his approval as I continued to remove his shoes and all his clothing completely. The power it gave me fueled a craving I didn’t know existed. The discarded material spilled effortlessly to the floor.

I kneeled before him, parting his knees as I explored his hardened cock.

I placed my finger gently on the tip.

I took a moment to look into his eyes as I placed the tip of my tongue against his dick to sample. Continuing to keep my eyes locked with his, I eased my mouth over the velvet head of his cock, tasting the smooth skin, caressing his shaft with every hungry pass of my tongue.

His low moan delighted me as I raised my mouth up and down his entire shaft. The salty taste, the musky scent, caused a heat to surface between my legs that begged for satisfaction. I sucked, I licked, I did everything I could think of to please Victor.

As his cock pressed against the back of my throat, I looked up and made eye contact with him again. His dark eyes blended with his dark features. The intensity in his stare sent a shock wave of lust through my body.

He began to thrust his hips and drove his dick deeper, demanding I open wider for him. His breathing labored, his eyes closed, and he released a deep moan as his seed shot to the back of my throat. I swallowed as quickly as I could, surprised by the liquid that surged into my mouth. Seeing his pleasure gave me a sense of power I never had before. This is what I wanted. I wanted to please. This was not out of duty or because some man had paid me via a Tasting to do so. No, with Victor, I had wanted to please this man from deep inside of me.

His body quivered for a moment, and then he commanded, “Go lie on your back on my bed and spread your legs.”

I rose from my kneeling position as quickly as I could. I wiped at my mouth, ridding my lips of the small drops of come that had escaped. When I reached his bed, I took in the elegance of the fabrics and pillows. Dark hues of blues cascaded over a bed so much larger than the twin bed I had been sleeping on. A canopy of thick velvet fabric connected the four posts made of carved wood. Decadence engulfed this bed.

I crawled onto it and did as he asked. I spread my legs as wide as I could, allowing the air to waft across the moist skin of my bare pussy. Before I could lie there long, Victor crawled between my legs, the bed dipping beneath his weight, and placed his lips to my clit and kissed.

He paused after the simple, but delicious touch, and whispered, “Is this what you want? This isn’t expected as part of the punishment.”

I nodded my head. My voice had been stolen by lust.

He kissed again, but this time followed the kiss with a lick. His tongue circled my clit over and over. The mesmerizing act captured every breath I released. I moaned with every flick, I gasped with every sensual suck and nibble, and I mewled when his finger pressed past the entrance of my pussy. He licked, he kissed, he sucked, and he thrust his finger repeatedly until I could feel the building heat take over.

“Victor,” I murmured. I wanted to say more but could only manage to say his name.

“Come for me, Ivy. I want to watch you come against my hand.”

His words were all it took to push me over the ledge. An orgasm shook my body to the point that colors blurred around me. A surge of passion took over my entire being.

Victor’s mouth descended. His kiss conquered my lips as I’d so desperately been hoping he would someday do.

Passion erupted, a fervor stronger than any power known to man. His kiss dominated every sense in my body. It demanded every emotion, every feeling. Everything in me became his with one demanding kiss. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t reason, couldn’t put up any resistance at all even if I’d wanted to. My body sizzled beneath his hungry stare. Lust melted my core. My pussy throbbed in anticipation.

I licked my lips in anticipation.

The candlelight fired his dark hair, his face glowed in the warm light. His hard edges softened as he pressed the palm of my hand against his chest. I could feel his heart beat against my touch. He never released me of his stare as the rhythm of his life pounded against my hand. One beat at a time, the connection between us formed.

He kissed me again, possessing my mouth with slow thoroughness. His lips pressed firmly to mine as his tongue plunged deep within my mouth. Pulling away, he placed soft kisses along my neck, along my collarbone, slowly lowering until his tongue teased my erect nipple.

My body jerked in response to the touch. A gasp escaped my lips as his mouth sucked my nipple completely. Lost in sensation, my mind swirled beneath my closed eyes. He moved to the other hardened nipple, edging me closer and closer to a cliff of abandoned passion.

With a trail of kisses down my stomach, Victor placed his body between my spread legs. Caressing my moistened folds, he expertly plunged his finger into my pussy. I tensed at the surprise invasion, but relaxed as he massaged his way in. He began a seductive dance with his finger, in and out of my wet entrance. Looking into my eyes, he lowered his mouth to my clit and circled his tongue along the bud. Gentle licks with gentle thrusts of his finger pulled a moan from the depths of my core.

“Open your legs wider,” he commanded.

I did as he asked, feeling the cool air against the wetness of my sex. Continuing to move his finger in and out of my pussy, Victor licked down the length of my folds until he stopped at my puckered hole. He circled his tongue along the sensitive entrance, the tip threatening to push past.

I instantly tensed, closing my legs around his head. The wet kiss in such an intimate spot, shot an electric bolt to my center.

He sat up and stared at me for a moment. The brown in his eyes clouded with desire. He grabbed my ankles with one hand and raised my legs up, as if changing a baby. My legs bent so my knees were nearly resting on my stomach.

“I told you to open your legs.” He swatted my exposed bottom twice. “I expect you to submit completely. Allow yourself to trust in my touch. Trust that I know exactly what your body needs.” He began to spank my bottom as I did everything I could not to wiggle from his hold.

Spank after spank, Victor delivered the discipline. The sting, the submissive position, the complete act, consumed my senses. Wave after wave of fire spread from my punished behind, right to my heated pussy. An orgasm built with every swat as Victor stared into my eyes. As if reading my body perfectly, he lowered his lips, placed a gentle kiss on my clit, and thrust his finger back into the wetness where it once was.

That was all it took for me to convulse. Pleasure racked my body, forcing a scream to release. My back arched as my pussy pulsated around his hand.

“Roll over.”

I did as he asked without a single pause. My body still hungered for more. A taste of what Victor could do to me only made me desperate for him to take me fully.

He dipped his finger into my pussy from behind, collecting my wetness and then ran it along my anus. “Are you trained well? Can your ass take my cock?”

Not waiting for an answer, Victor pressed his juice-covered finger into my tight hole to find out for himself. Moving one finger in, he soon followed with a second. Although the seductive intrusion had a small bite, it didn’t hurt. I desperately hoped he’d find I was ready. I wanted him to take my ass as much as my pussy. I wanted to belong to him. Giving my ass to him would make me his… at least that was what my body was telling me. Screaming at me.

“Have you had a dildo in you as large as me?” he asked as he pumped his finger into my dark channel.

I shook my head. My face buried into the feather pillow. “No, sir,” I nearly cried out.

“Do you feel ready to take a cock?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.” I turned my head so my voice wouldn’t be muffled. “Please take me.”

He removed his fingers from my behind and left the bed for a moment. I saw him go to a table and pull out lubrication. My heart skipped. I wanted this, but the fear of being taken both tantalized me and terrified me.

He lowered his weight to the bed. My body trembled as he spread the slickness all over my hole.

“You’re shaking. Are you afraid?” He paused.

I nodded. “Yes, a little. But I want this. I’ve fantasized about you taking me there every time I had a plug enter me. I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted you.”

His weight against my back sent a delightful shiver through me. I knew what was going to happen next. The tip of his cock pressed against my opening but didn’t push past. He rested it there as he reached around and put pressure on my clit. Rolling his finger firmly in a circle, he whispered, “I am going to go slow. I want you to relax and allow yourself to accept me.”

I nodded, breathless and needy.

He pressed, his tip breaking the seal. I tensed. “Shh, relax. Take a deep breath.”

I inhaled deeply and allowed the mass of his cock to slowly enter me. It stretched me further than I had ever been. The stinging pleasure suffocated any doubt and tension in my body. I melted, accepting his entrance as his cock claimed my ass.

“That’s my perfect little doll,” he praised. “Take me. Take all of me.”

When his cock entered me balls-deep, he paused to allow me to adjust to the size. The fullness pounded at every heightened nerve in my body. The taboo thrill of his possession and the ministrations of his finger on my clit brought another orgasm to the surface. I would come with his dick in my ass.

My moans grew louder, giving the verbal cue for him to continue on. He pulled out slowly and thrust his cock back in fully. The act was all it took to send me spiraling into a body-shattering release. My moan became a small scream as he thrust in and out of my tight hole. Each pull, each push, brought me higher and higher in my pleasured delight.

My ass constricted around the hardness of his cock. Victor’s breathing sped, his hands dug into my hips as he moaned with one final forceful lunge.

Illicit gratification blanketed the two of us as we collapsed into each other’s heat.

Victor positioned my body so I was lying on my side. He crawled up beside me so his nude body pressed against mine. He pressed the palm of his hand against my sensitive behind and whispered, “Sleep with me now. Just sleep and not leave my side.” When I didn’t resist, but snuggled up against his body as my silent answer that I couldn’t imagine leaving him again, he said, “I don’t do this with all my dolls.”

I hadn’t realized it, but I needed to hear those words. I don’t think I would have stopped him had he done these types of acts with all, but knowing I was special…

I needed to hear those words.

I was Victor Drayton’s special doll.

Chapter Fourteen

Ivy

I stared at the contours of my nude body in Victor’s full-length mirror in his bathroom. I couldn’t sleep—not after how intimate we had just been. So many questions were flooding my mind. He’d said he didn’t do what we did with all his dolls, and I believed him. So I was special. I had never been made to feel special before. But that also opened up my mind to a flood of insecurities and unanswered questions.

Staring at myself, I tried to silence my mind as best as I could as Victor slept in the other room. In the past, some would have called me waifish, fragile, and slight. But now I looked on with pride. After weeks of daily dancing and exercise, my body had become muscular, lean, and even better… strong. And along with my growing physique came skill. I truly was becoming the doll Victor wanted me to be. I had learned to keep a beat—not the best beat—but I had gotten much better. Even the choreographers said they had seen a huge improvement. My days were filled with pride in my accomplishments.

Each day, more and more dolls were assigned their art pieces for Japan. With props, we were quickly outgrowing our rehearsal space. I had heard murmurings between Victor, the choreographers, and his business manager about leaving for Japan and planning the exhibit soon. There had been a time that I would have been terrified to hear about an upcoming show and having to be on display in front of complete strangers, but I was actually getting excited now that I was becoming a true doll.

What did that mean for me and Victor? Would we acknowledge what happened tonight? Was it just a one-time occurrence? Did he want me more than me just being an art piece in his gallery? So many questions and no answers. Not even a hint from Victor as to what he was thinking or wanting, and I didn’t think I would ever get more from him.

I had noticed that as the weeks went by, I had seen less of Victor. We were both preparing for the show in our own way all day, and when the dolls weren’t rehearsing, we were exhausted from the day’s events and sleep was all any of us craved. It had seemed that whenever I had looked, Victor was always long gone. We each had our responsibilities—his obviously more crucial than mine—but for the first time in my life, I felt alive and important. Part of something bigger than just myself. I had been given a gift, the gift of feeling like I belonged. That I was needed.

The sound of footsteps entering the bathroom snapped me from my thoughts. “It’s a beautiful sight,” Victor said as he walked up behind me, staring into the mirror over my shoulder. “Your body represents hard work, dedication, and focus.” He placed a kiss on my shoulder, then continued to kiss up my neck and nibbled on my ear.

The Ivy of the past would have been embarrassed at being caught staring at her naked body. But the woman of today felt pride. I had grown stronger every day through blood, sweat and, most certainly, tears.

I turned around, wrapped my arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss to his lips. It was a bold move, but I had to do it. I had to actually kiss the man I lusted after. He kissed me back as if we had kissed like that for centuries. There were no awkward movements. No exploring. Our kiss seemed so natural and practiced. So right and meant to be.

“I even have muscles on my inner thighs. I didn’t even know that was possible.” I giggled and kissed him again.

Victor smiled against another kiss. “I plan to maintain those muscles long after the show in Japan.” He tightened his grip on my hips and kneeled before me. “I enjoy the muscles very much.”

He began to place soft kisses along my inner thigh, slowly working his way up to my bare sex. Kiss by kiss, breath by breath, he snaked his way to his final destination. Licking up one pussy lip and back down the other, he moaned against my wet flesh.

I gasped, reached down, and curled my fingers in his untamed hair. “Victor,” I panted. I flung my head back and closed my eyes as he continued to lick, thrusting his tongue deeper into my pussy.

“Mmm, so wet for your daddy.”

My heart skipped. I hadn’t been a ‘little girl’ for quite some time. I had done quite a few Daddy Tastings at Spiked Roses because those had always been lucrative. Hearing the familiar words of others escape his lips filled me with a sense of wicked energy. It had been so long since I could just feel kinky and dirty with no worry of how a proper doll should act. So long since I could just pretend to be little Ivy needing comfort from her daddy and his thick cock. So long… and so very needed. I was definitely up for some taboo fun. “Yes… so wet. I need my daddy’s dick—”

“Where the fuck have you been all my life?” he asked, looking up at me as he slowly stood before me. “Most women either hide their true desires, or aren’t open to them. I’ve never met someone who would have ever responded like you just did. They would have shielded their dirty thoughts even if they truly wanted to explore them. You, on the other hand, completely are open and revealing of your true emotions. It’s so refreshing, and it’s also so surprising. You fascinate me with your candor.”

“I’m not so sure it’s candor. It’s more of a lack of control. Control that, since being at The Dollhouse, I am trying really hard to get a handle on.”

I looked up into his severe stare. Our lips were so close, and I could almost feel a hum of electricity between us. I had been schooled in submission lately, though at times I’d not always been the best student. I had learned obedience, and had come close to mastering the art of femininity with all the dainty doll moves I had learned. But what I still lacked was knowledge on how to contain my emotion, how to hide my desire, and how to process this ever-growing love for the man who stood beside me. I had been taught the art of surrender, but not the art of love.

I closed my eyes and released a heavy sigh. When I opened them again, Victor leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. He pulled away just enough to stare into my eyes and then kissed me again, this time with more force, with more passion, and with hunger. Nothing was as sweet as the kiss he gave, nothing so intoxicating. I had never felt so drunk in love. This man who was capturing my mouth had also captured my heart. What I’d once defined as the feeling of safety, was actually the feeling of falling madly in love with my savior.

“Victor,” I whispered. “Please, take me.”

He shook his head. “No. I want you to take it yourself. I want you to learn how to take what you want.”

I looked up at him again, confused. “But I want to be submissive to you. I want to surrender my body and soul to you.”

“Submission is more than allowing me to fuck you. Submission is about desire, wants, and cravings. It is also about understanding what you need and knowing how to demand it. I want you to take what you need. I want you to find your strength, find what gives you pleasure and take it.” He nibbled at my lower lip and growled, “And take me.”

His words were all I needed for courage. I would do as he asked and take the power of my pleasure into my own hands. Feeling a confidence like never before, I stepped back and took the time to stare at the contours of his body. My eyes scanned the ripples in his stomach and how they met the black patch of hair that encompassed his hard cock which beckoned my touch.

I kneeled down before him, not because I was commanded to do so, but because I craved the taste of his flesh again. I couldn’t get enough of the taste of his cock against my tongue. I wanted the power to make him moan. I wanted the control of his desire. Without seeking permission, I licked his dick, from the tip all the way down to his balls, and then back up again. When I reached the head of his cock once more, I engulfed his thick hardness with my mouth and began to suck up and down, tightening my lips firmly. Up and down I moved, reveling in the sounds of his gasps and moans. When his hands reached my hair and pulled softly, my heart soared knowing that I could give the man I lusted after such satisfaction.

I stood up and kept my stare locked with his. I liked the way he watched me, the way he licked his lips in anticipation. An animalistic desire blanketed his features. He wanted me, but remained in place, allowing me to take control.

I sat back on the edge of the bathtub and spread my legs wide. “Lick me,” I commanded. The sound of my voice seemed foreign to my ears.

He did as I ordered without hesitation. He bent down between my legs and licked the entire length of my pussy, stopping to await my next command.

“Lick me again,” I ordered more firmly. “And fuck me with your fingers.”

He gave a roguish smile and did just as I asked. His tongue licked along my folds and his finger entered my pussy, quickly joined by a second. He fucked me with his fingers over and over as he lapped up my juices. I arched my back and closed my eyes. I didn’t worry about pleasing Victor, but simply allowed the pleasure of what was happening to me to take hold. I wrapped my legs around his head, capturing, demanding more. He was there to give me pleasure… and I would most definitely take it.

But this time we wouldn’t stop.

I wouldn’t allow Victor to slow anything down.

I wanted fast.

I wanted Victor.

“Put your cock in me,” I ordered again, my voice harsh in its directive. “Put your cock in me now, and fuck me hard.”

Victor complied by opening the bathroom counter drawer, donning a condom in a fluid motion, and thrust his cock hard into my pussy. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him as close as possible as he lowered me to the plush bath rug.

“Fuck me hard.”

He plummeted even deeper, groaning as he did so over and over again.

“Fuck me harder!”

He thrust in and out at a relentless pace. His moans blended with mine; the only other sound being the slapping of our bodies.

“Harder, harder, harder!” I screamed, grabbing his hair and pulling him into a kiss. “Fuck me until you come. I want to feel you come deep inside of me!” I said against the kiss.

Again and again, his cock pushed inside me, spreading my tight pussy. My fingers found his back, and I clawed my way down as he mastered my body. I thrust my hips to meet each thrust of his, each connection getting deeper and deeper.

“Rub my clit while I come,” I demanded again, loving the power I had.

He quickly obliged and circled his finger along my engorged clit as he continued to ram into me at a frenzied pace. His touch was all I needed to explode over the edge. I screamed out my pleasure as it sizzled over me. Victor’s eyes locked on mine, and he too allowed the orgasm to conquer him. Soon his moans blended with my mewls of completion until we both lay limp in each other’s arms.

Chapter Fifteen

Victor

“I don’t want you going to Berlin,” I stated, knowing Ivy wasn’t going to like what I had to say in the slightest.

She looked up at me, surprised. “What? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I walked up to where she sat curled up with a book. She looked so relaxed and calm that I hated to upset her, but I had been giving a lot of thought to the show and how I would cast her. Berlin was supposed to be very similar to Milan in casting and what the exhibits would be, but the thought of having my special doll in any of the exhibits was too much. She was mine. I didn’t want to share her. I didn’t want another person to look upon her body, not now after I had claimed her as mine.

“Then why? Why can’t I go to Berlin?” Her lip quivered, and I could tell that I was upsetting her which wasn’t my intent, but regardless, I had made up my mind.

“I had to do some shifting around with the casting.” I looked over at where Janie sat with her sprained ankle propped up on the ottoman. “With Janie’s injury that happened today, I pulled her from Berlin. We also have two new dolls who just arrived, and I don’t feel they’re ready yet in their posture to perform. Plus, I want everyone at their best for Japan. It’s a large show that I don’t want messed up. Berlin is much smaller and can be handled with a smaller cast of dolls.”

Ivy swung her legs over the edge of the chair and stood. “Okay, but what does any of that have to do with me? I’m not hurt, and I thought you were happy with my performance in Milan.”

I glanced around the room and noticed that all the dolls were watching, some more obviously than others. “We can discuss this in private if you want.”

Ivy followed me out of the main room and walked down the hallway, following me down to my study. When we entered, she closed the door behind her and stood with her hands on her hips. It was an odd sight to see her dressed like a cute little doll in a yellow dress and white tights, her hair in a long braid, and bright pink lip gloss staring at me with anger in her eyes. The contrast almost made me laugh, but I needed to remain firm so that Ivy knew I was serious.

“Did I not do a good job in Milan?” she asked, remaining by the doorway. “You didn’t say anything, and I assumed I had.”

“You did a good job.”

“So this isn’t about Milan?”

“It is in a way. But not in the way you think.”

She crossed her arms against her chest. “Well, then explain it to me. I deserve to know.”

Taking a seat at my desk, I hoped the space between us would keep me from walking up to her and taking her into my arms. I found her spark of fury sexy, but wasn’t going to show my cards if I could help it. If she really pushed, I knew I would fold in an instant.

“Watching you in Milan was hard,” I began. “I’m not going to sugar coat this, so I’ll just say it. It was hard watching you even then. Things have changed for us since Milan, so I can only imagine how I will feel now seeing others stare on with lustful eyes. I don’t want to share what is mine.”

“Excuse me?” She took a few steps toward the desk.

“Yes. As long as we are having sex, I’d prefer no one else admiring what is mine.”

“Yours? Because we have had sex?”

I looked up at her from the stack of papers I was pretending to sort. “Is that so hard to understand? Why maybe having you there could be a distraction? That maybe any man wouldn’t want his woman to be on display for others?”

The anger in her face dissolved and she nibbled her lower lip as I noticed she seemed to do when in thought. “What does that mean then? For me as a doll? Does it mean I’m fired?”

“No. Of course not. And this won’t change Japan. It just changes Berlin because the choreography is almost identical to Milan and we both know what that means. Japan isn’t as sexual, and the role I have decided to cast you in for Japan isn’t revealing at all. But Berlin is. I can’t have Allen and Joseph change the choreography for the entire exhibit because of what’s going on between us.”

“What’s going on between us?” She took a few more steps toward me as the safe distance I had set was shrinking by the minute.

I sighed and looked down back at my stack of papers. “We leave tomorrow for Berlin, and I have a lot of work to do before we do.” I glanced up at Ivy who I could see I just hurt with my diversion. “This is a conversation for another time.”

Ivy glanced down, her thick eyelashes hiding the pain in her eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay with Janie and the other girls I don’t know.”

Feeling guilty for being so short and so cold, I offered, “We’ll talk when I return, all right? I don’t want you to think I’m shutting you out. That isn’t the case at all. If you want the real truth, the thought of others looking at you engaged in those acts makes me jealous as fuck.” I offered a smile when she looked up at me in surprise. “So there you have it. I’m just a jealous man who doesn’t want to share his toys. Can you understand that?”

She nodded as a smile replaced the pain that was once there.

“I understand.” She turned to leave without saying another word, but I could tell she was leaving happy with the news I’d revealed.

Yes, I had no intention of sharing my doll. She was my toy. And I’d never learned how to share well with others.

* * *

Ivy

Pure exhaustion took over as the dolls entered the living room and settled in for the night of light chatter or reading. I had grown accustomed to the calm and quiet evenings. The new choreography today, before everyone got ready to leave for Berlin, had been by far the hardest most of us had ever done as of yet, and I had somehow held my own to some degree. I honestly believed a lot of my dance improvement was due to Victor and the way he had given me the boost in confidence I guess I’d needed.

Janie came and sat down next to me on the couch. “What are you doing tonight?”

I shrugged. “Maybe read and enjoy the silence.”

“I thought you weren’t good at quieting your mind?” She winked at me with a warm smile.

I shrugged again. “It’s amazing how much has changed about me since being here. I’m doing a lot of things I never pictured myself doing.”

I watched as Janie took off her shoes, the soles of her feet a mass of bloody blisters. I was pretty sure my feet, as well as the rest of the women’s feet, all looked the same.

Janie grimaced as she said, “Since I couldn’t dance today, I was able to watch you. You did really good today in dance, Ivy. I’m proud of—”

I cut Janie off by raising my hand and motioned for silence. I thought I heard a loud bang come from the foyer. Almost as if someone had kicked the door open. No one should have been in the house other than the few dolls who were in the room. We had all waved to the rest as they’d left for Berlin.

We both fell silent, listening to the sounds around us. We motioned for the other girls to do the same. I feared the silence, feared the hushed stillness more than anything else. I hated it.

“Why are you so quiet?” Janie asked. Her breath whispered against my neck as she sat closer to me.

I was afraid of what I thought I heard, afraid of the darkness that loomed around us, unsure of what my gut wanted me to believe. I disliked the night. Even in the calm, darkness held evil which crept down my neck and gave me the chills. I felt the exact same way this very moment. Something was wrong. I could feel it in the depths of my bones.

Were we in danger?

I shrugged my shoulders.

Janie sat back and left the subject alone. There was another crash in the distance, a fear-provoking sound that made my heart skip and my body quiver. “Somebody is in the house. I think someone just broke in.” I glanced at the other dolls who were watching me closely. “Get your shoes back on,” I whispered. “We need to get out of here.” I paused, listening for the sound again or any other sound that revealed what I was panicked to believe. Someone had broken in… I feared I was right, so I listened closely. Silence.

I listened hard, only hearing my breath and the heavy breathing of the other women looking at me with frightened eyes.

Silence.

And then the words…

“There are the precious Drayton Dolls.” A man walked into the room with a knife in his hand. Two more men followed close behind with guns. “I knew we would find the treasure if we looked hard enough.”

I turned to Janie. “Run! Try to get out of here and get some help. Run!”

Janie hesitated.

“Go! Everyone run!” I screamed.

The three women scattered and left the room through the other exits as soon as I screamed for them to run again.

“Get them,” the man ordered as he turned to look at me where I stood my ground. “Don’t let them get away!”

As the other men chased after the women fleeing for their lives, the man with the knife charged, but I met his attack head on, hoping I would be able to distract him enough so at least one of the dolls could run for help. I plowed into his body with all my weight, knocking us both to the ground—his knife sliding across the room.

I could see that Janie had escaped from the corner of my eye. Before I could register relief, the man’s fist hit my face with a blinding force.

Sparks blurred my vision from the force of the blow. Blood poured from my nose as my attacker punched me again and again. The evil in his eyes shone in the soft light of the room. The yellow of his teeth and the stench of his alcohol and tobacco-laced breath only enhanced the nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

He’s going to kill you! Fight for your life. Fight long enough for everyone to get away.

Watching the blood drip from my bloody nose to the ground, I tried to struggle to my feet, but he was suddenly on top of me, restraining me on the marble floor, his jean-clad thighs prying my legs apart. I tried not to focus on the crazed face looming over me. His hungry sneer made it clear he wanted more than just to hurt me.

He’s going to rape you! Fight now!

His mouth came down toward my face, dried spit at the corners. I blocked the forced kiss with both hands, feeling his skin beneath my nails as I attempted to claw out his eyes. I fought the urge to let out a scream, I feared Janie or the others would come back to try to save me if they heard me screaming for help. I wouldn’t allow that. I wouldn’t allow them all to die. I had no choice but to save myself. Even if I died, this man wouldn’t walk away unscathed. His fucking DNA would be under my nails and all over my entire body when the police found me. Even if I didn’t beat this fucker in life, I would still get my vengeance in death when the investigation would ultimately find him guilty of murder.

He hissed between his filthy unbrushed teeth, beads of foul sweat dripped off the tip of his pointy nose. Sweat oozed from every pore of his body. Clearly, fatigue had set in. I could feel his strength weakening with every defensive move I made. His sexual need clouded his mind. Hope washed over me. I could still fight him off. I just needed to outlast his vigor. Resilience and wits could switch this situation around. I wouldn’t stop fighting until he killed me. I would not hand over my body without a damn fight.

“You are nothing but a kinky whore! You know you want it just as bad as me. You’re one of The Dollhouse girls. We’ve heard all about The Dollhouse and all you sick fucks. You want it! Stop fighting! I hear you are trained in this. Show me what a good doll can do.”

Breathing hard, his body wheezed with every struggle. He had me imprisoned on the hard floor, but I knew I had a chance to break free as his sexual need overpowered everything else. Daily dance, hours of posing, and exercise at The Dollhouse had made me strong and more physically fit than I had ever been in my entire life.

I thrashed my body more, refusing to look at his lust-filled face only inches from my own. Strength alone couldn’t fight him off. I feared he would eventually win. I needed something—

His knife. I needed to reach his knife.

I had sent it flying across the room when I met his attack head on. If only I could stretch out my arm just a little further, the weapon would be within reach. I needed to struggle more. Just a little bit more.

“Stop fighting! I’ll kill you if I have to!” Spittle blanketed my face. Nausea racked through me. “Be a good doll. Be a fucking doll and give me what I want. I’ll get it one way or the other, you might as well make this easy on you.”

His hands grabbed my breasts. His sexual need distracted him as I had hoped, slowly letting his guard down. “You know you want this. This is what you women are trained for. I’ve heard about what you do in those art galleries,” he murmured, despicable vileness clinging to his voice. “Let me taste some of that special sauce that makes you dolls famous.”

I opened my mouth to scream, but stifled my voice. My only chance of getting out of this alive was to outsmart him. Catch him off guard.

Reach for the knife.

“I may not be a rich man,” he continued, moving a hand to unbutton his pants. “But where I lack in money, I make up with the size of my dick. I promise you, I’ll make you feel good. Real good. I know you’re experienced, but I’m sure I can teach you a thing or two.”

Pausing in my struggle, acting as if him boasting about the size of his penis had worked in convincing me, I managed to fake a smile and nod.

“That’s a good doll. Just stop fighting me,” he spat. “Spread your legs nice and wide. You want me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, the word almost burning my tongue.

His severe stare searched my face. “You’re not going to fight, right? You’re going to stay right here where you belong? Pose for me like a doll. I want a sex doll.” He released a wicked laugh. “Yes, pose like a sex doll.”

I managed another weak nod and an even bigger smile.

He returned the smile, a sneer that revealed gaps and crooked teeth. His thighs relaxed, loosening their hold on my lower body.

I forced myself to be patient. I had to wait for just the right opportunity to strike. I knew I would have only one chance. I would die before I’d let the monster take me.

The man slowly shifted so he could lower his pants.

Reach for the knife now!

The man must have been reading my mind, because he flipped me over onto my stomach as if I truly were a rag doll, reached for the knife, sliced off my panties like they were thin paper, and exposed my ass completely.

“That’s right, doll,” he hissed. “I know all about what gets shoved up this ass of yours.”

Without giving me time to process what was happening, the man took the handle of the knife and pushed it against my anus.

“No!” I screamed, but to no avail.

The edge of the handle breached my anus and started to enter me even though I tried with all my might to stop the invasion.

“I’m going to fuck this ass of yours with the knife first, and then my cock.”

Finding the last ounce of strength I had left, I shoved him away as hard as I could, knocking the knife out of his hand and out of my ass. With the same strength, I rolled toward the knife, and stabbed toward his charging body. It happened so quick, I didn’t have time to think. I let out an animalistic growl as I stabbed the knife into his chest again… and again… and again.

Blood sputtered from his mouth as he glanced down at his chest in horror. Blood poured from the wound, but it clearly wasn’t enough to kill him. His blood-shot eyes flashed with rage as he knocked the knife out of my hand, sending it flying across the room once again.

Chapter Sixteen

Ivy

“Leave her the fuck alone!”

The sound of another man’s voice brought tears to my eyes. Someone else was here! Help… a miracle… someone.

I shifted my head to see a man looming in the shadows of the room. His silhouette exuded power. His deep voice possessed strength. This man could be my savior.

Harley Crow?

Was the man charging into the room Harley Crow from Spiked Roses?

My attacker spun around at the sound of the voice. He quickly stood, and without any warning, he attacked Harley.

I managed to pull myself into a sitting position as I watched the two men struggling. They were on the floor now, throwing fists at each other, both attempting to knock the other one out.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the bloody knife I had just used lying across the room. Cringing, I managed to get into a standing position, head still spinning from the battering to my face. I drew in a deep breath, quickly making my way across the room.

I stood inches from the knife when my attacker shot up from the floor, evidently thinking the same as me. Not giving him the chance, I launched myself the remaining distance and grabbed the knife before the vile asshole could react.

Foolishly, the man lunged at me—no doubt hoping he could wrestle the weapon from my grasp. Without hesitation, I stabbed the knife at him again. Seeing his crazed eyes, I pulled the knife back, and then slashed at his neck.

Bile rose in my throat as my attacker crumpled to the floor. I began to shake. Tears blurred my vision. He was dead! I’d killed a man!

“Give me the knife. Everything’s going to be okay.” Harley touched my forearm tentatively.

My head swirled in confusion. I looked down and saw that my bloodied hand still gripped the knife, scarlet now from blood I had spilled.

“He’s dead. I’m not going to hurt you. Just give me the knife.” The gentleness of Harley’s voice somehow soothed me in this awful storm of darkness. Trusting him because of Spiked Roses, I handed it to him, looking him straight in the eyes. I knew at that very moment, I was in safe hands.

“How badly are you hurt?” he asked as he scanned for injuries.

I stared at my hands. Parts of me felt numb, while other parts radiated in pain. I looked into his eyes and began to cry. He hesitated for a moment, but wrapped his arms around my beaten body. I clung to him as I sobbed, shaking violently. No longer able to stand, my knees buckled. Harley Crow gently lowered us both to the ground as he pulled away enough so he could look into my face.

“Where’s Victor?” he hissed. “Where is everyone?”

The harshness of the question confused me. I sucked back the last sob, and quickly tried to regain my composure. “There is a show in Berlin. Most of the dolls are flying there with him. A few of us not cast stayed behind.”

My heart stopped as fresh panic set in. “Oh God! The other women! There were two other men! They were chasing the dolls! We have to help them.”

“Fuck!” he said. “I heard rumors that a kidnapping attempt was in the works for The Dollhouse. I came here to give Victor a heads up, but clearly I’m too late.” He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the knife in his hand. “I fucking didn’t bring a gun. Fuck.” He grabbed his cell from his pocket, dialed a number and said into the phone, “Get here now. The Dollhouse. We’ve got trouble.”

When he put the phone back in his pocket, I asked, “What are we going to do? Should we leave for help?”

“Shhh…” Harley said softly. “You wait here. I’ll go find them.”

I shot up, not listening to him at all. “There are three others. We have to go now!”

“Stay here, and don’t move a muscle until I come back. Do you understand?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No,” he snapped in a whisper. “You’ll stay here like I said!”

“I’m going with you,” I insisted. “You aren’t leaving me here.”

His expression and tone told me he was furious, but he didn’t have time to argue. He reached for my hand harshly and led me through the door, down the long hallway, and toward the bedrooms where we heard screaming. Running closer and closer to the bellowing howls, we slowed our pace and kept our attention on our surroundings, searching for any sign of movement. Harley stopped, pulled me next to him, and knelt beside a large column and a six-foot oriental vase to use to shield us from sight as the screams came closer to us. I knelt beside him and squinted in the darkness. Suddenly, a woman ran past us, several feet from where we hid.

It was Janie!

She screamed as two men chased her down the hall. They were laughing and clearly enjoying the hunt. I could see that Janie was covered in blood, and she had a large wound in her stomach that was gushing out blood with every beat of her heart. The fear in Janie’s voice made the hair on my neck stand up and impending doom run down my spine. Within seconds, Janie screamed again as the two men—with guns in their hands—grabbed a hold of her ripped doll dress and drove her into the ground. I lunged forward to help her, but Harley grabbed me and pinned me to the ground next to the large vase. We were far enough away to be safe from being seen, but close enough that I could see it all. I could see every inch of horrific terror before me.

“Don’t move,” Harley whispered.

“Let me—”

“You’ll get yourself killed. I don’t have a goddamn gun! We have to attack from behind if we have any chance of surviving. Don’t fucking move,” he commanded in the harshest of whispers. “They have guns. I know these fuckers, and they are ruthless and deadly.”

I struggled with him as he covered my mouth with his hand. Another scream from Janie evoking horrifying, unimaginable fear filled the hallway. It appeared as if The Dollhouse was under siege by ruthless men set on killing and raping the dolls. I trembled under Harley’s weight. He laid on top of me, his arms wrapped around me, his face closer than ever before.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered. “I may not be able to save her, but I sure as fuck can save you. Remain silent, or we’re all dead. That girl is already dead.”

“No, she’s not! Help her. Help her,” I pleaded quietly against his hand as I watched one of the men stab Janie in the stomach again, pull the knife out and stood with a menacing grin as he towered over her dying body.

“It’s too late,” Harley said against my ear. “Those stab wounds are deadly. She’ll be gone in minutes. There’s nothing we can do. That girl was dead before we even saw her.”

I closed my eyes and squeezed them tight. I prayed for this nightmare to end. They were going to kill her… slowly in the most tortuous of ways. Janie was going to die, and I couldn’t do anything but remain protected by Harley Crow when he couldn’t offer the same protection for her.

“Please leave me alone,” Janie begged in terror as she struggled for breath. I could hear the gurgle of blood laced in her words as it seeped out the corners of her mouth.

“We gave you a chance to put your dollhouse charms to good use. We gave the other dolls their chance as well. They chose death,” the man said with pure evil in his tone, as he studied the bloody knife. “You foolishly refused too.”

I couldn’t keep my eyes closed. Even though I knew. I knew what I would see. I tensed and dug my nails into Harley’s skin. He pressed his body into mine, shoving us closer to the hidden shadows of the vase and column.

With one quick motion, the man slit Janie’s throat. “Die, bitch.”

I heard Janie gasping. He hadn’t killed her. Down the hallway, out of my reach, lay my friend writhing in pain and facing death with monsters all around her.

“Don’t move an inch,” Harley whispered. Harley reached up and clutched the back of my head. How he maintained a steady breath, I didn’t know. My heart raced, and I couldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard I tried to make myself. Harley placed a soft, reassuring kiss on my cheek, and moments later, heavy boot steps ran past us, disappearing in the distance. I struggled to move, but Harley still wouldn’t let me go.

“Come on! Let’s get the fuck out of here. The dolls aren’t here. We have our fucking timing off! We killed three of them.”

“Marty’s dead!” one of the men screamed. “I think one of the dolls got away! Fuck! Let’s get out of here! She may have gone for help.”

“Fuck that! We can’t leave empty handed. Find anything worth value at least.”

I glanced at Janie lying in her own pool of blood and knew I needed to get to her.

“Wait,” Harley whispered when I tried to move. “They aren’t out of my line of sight yet.”

Seconds seemed like hours as I lay underneath him. Janie gurgled in her own blood down the massive hallway. Each painful breath stabbed at my ears.

As the men disappeared into the belly of the house, Harley finally rose and released me as I ran to the dying woman’s side. Still alive, but with only minutes left, she gasped for oxygen. Harley removed his shirt and balled it at her neck and the wound gushing blood, but I knew there was no point.

“I’m going to go kill the motherfuckers,” Harley said in low and hushed voice, and for a moment I wondered if I was staring at the devil himself as darkness cloaked every expression on his face. “Help should be here soon.” He didn’t wait for a response, but ran down the hall after the men responsible for the terror.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” I lied, kneeling down beside Janie. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise.”

Janie clawed at me, crying and gasping. The only comfort I could give her was to cradle her head and stroke her forehead. Her body jerked, blood gushed out her neck, and the blood stains on my clothing grew with every second. Death blanketed us.

“You’re going to be okay,” I lied again, loathing my own words. Janie was moments from death, and this was all I could offer. “You held your dignity. You didn’t let them steal that from you. You should be proud that you stayed strong and you fought hard. You weren’t weak, Janie. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Janie’s eyes widened, and she gasped through failed breaths. She tried to speak, but her own blood drowned the words from surfacing. She only had minutes left, if not seconds.

“Relax. Just relax. It won’t be long until this awful nightmare goes away. Just close your eyes and stop the fight. You don’t have to fight anymore. You did good. So good. Just close your eyes and relax.”

Gunshots fired in the distance, and for a moment I considered running for safety. What if Harley was dead and those men were coming back for me? But I stayed. I wasn’t sure how much of my words Janie heard. No one should have to die alone. I would not allow her to die alone.

Janie opened her mouth to try to speak again and blood poured out as she grabbed my hands, shaking with a grip of pure panic. She faced the fear of death.

“You’re safe now. You’re safe now,” I repeated my words.

I rocked on my knees with my dying friend’s head in my lap until she took her final rippled breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I said. But no matter how many times I said the words, nothing would bring Janie back.

I set down her head, rose, and stumbled to the wall, mourning the loss of a woman I couldn’t save. Grieving someone I had grown to love. My lungs heaved, unable to breathe through my sobs.

“We couldn’t have saved her,” Harley said loudly as he approached me, covered in blood that I assumed wasn’t his own since he wasn’t trying to be quiet like before. “You have to know that. Even if we fought those men off, help wouldn’t have gotten here fast enough to save her. Her wounds were fatal.”

I leaned against the cool wall for support, covered in blood and lacking any energy to talk. I bit my lip, shook my head, and turned away from him, burying my face in my bloody hands. I had nothing to say to him, nothing at all.

“I know that wasn’t easy to see.” Harley paused for a moment. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, please.” I removed my hands and faced him, but couldn’t look into his eyes.

Harley continued, his tone fiercely disapproving. “Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t do this. Don’t you dare blame us. Trust me. I’ve seen a lot of people die, but I wasn’t going to see you die too if I could help it.”

“She was my friend! She was a human being who didn’t deserve to die like that!”

“No, she didn’t deserve it. And you were seconds from suffering the same fate if I hadn’t stopped you. Bravery can be the same thing as foolishness. You have to be smart to be strong.”

“We should have done something.”

“I did. They are dead now.

“We should have done something then! When Janie needed us!”

“Do you know what they would have done to you if they found us? They would have just killed me. But do you know what they would have done to you before killing you?”

“Yes, Harley, I know exactly what they would have done, and death would be a blessing in comparison. I know what those fuckers wanted! I get it.”

“Do you know I would have saved her if I thought we weren’t too late? I would also have slaughtered each and every one of them—or at least die trying—if it were just me. But I had a chance of at least saving you, and I was going to do so. I knew they would die by my hand, but I had to time it right. Do you believe that?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m sorry about your friends.” He looked up as if he could see the other dolls lying in their own blood. “I should go check on the others just in case…”

“I just can’t believe…” I hiccupped on a sob. “How did this happen? Why would anyone do this?”

Harley opened his mouth to speak, but paused for a few seconds. “Money. The Drayton Dolls have a very high price tag right now on the black market. Victor has built quite the reputation, and the tales of the dolls have the worst monsters wanting a piece of it. Like priceless art or rare gems, the dolls have become just as coveted.”

“They came to kidnap us and sell us on the black market?” I asked, wiping at my eyes and nose with the back of my hand.

He nodded. “I got wind of this. It’s why I came to tell Victor to up security. I didn’t think anyone would act so soon. I sure as hell would have come here more prepared if I had.” He looked around. “Are you sure there were only four of you total?”

I simply nodded.

“Let’s go see if we can find the others. The men said they were dead, but…” Harley paused, clearly trying to be sensitive of my feelings. “Are you going to be okay?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Harley reached for my hand and pulled me into an embrace. “We’ll get you out of here, call Victor and the others, and make sure this never happens again. I promise.”

He held me as I cried, stroking my hair softly. He stepped backwards away from me, swiping at the tears streaming down my face. Unable to stand any longer, I dropped to my knees and sobbed out his name. “Victor. We need to call Victor right now.”

Harley held me tight and stroked my hair. “I know. We will. And trust me, I know Victor. He will make whoever is behind this attack pay for what they did. He won’t let anyone get away with messing with his dolls. Someone will pay for what happened here. At least know that. Your friends’ death will not be forgotten or forgiven.”

Chapter Seventeen

Victor

“Where is she?” I demanded as I stormed into the house and saw Harley waiting for me, covered in blood, using a towel to try to wipe his hands and arms clean. Whose blood it was, I had no idea. But it was enough to make me sick with fear. “Where’s Ivy?”

Harley raised his hands to try to calm me. “Ivy’s fine. She’s shaken up pretty badly, but she’s okay. Minus a few bruises and scrapes, she’s fucking lucky to be alive. She’s a fighter, but I’m not sure she would have survived had I not arrived.” His face darkened. “The others weren’t so lucky. The other three are dead.”

I nodded as I was already aware. I had been briefed on the situation quickly as I was on the jet on our way to Berlin. I had immediately turned the jet around in a panic. Armed men were waiting for us at the airport to make sure the dolls were escorted back to The Dollhouse safely. The plan was to gather our belongings and leave The Dollhouse immediately. But all I could focus on as we rushed home was Ivy. I had to make sure she was all right, and that nothing would happen to her, and I needed to handle it myself. I didn’t trust anyone but me to be with her.

The dolls came into the foyer, all looking terrified at the bloody mess before them. Some gasped, others cried, and I knew they were all terrified. “Pack up your belongings. We’ll be leaving here within the hour,” I instructed.

“Oh my God,” Amber said. “Are they really dead? Janie and the new girls? I can’t believe this happened.”

“Like I told you all on the plane,” I said, trying to be sensitive to the terror I knew they all must have been feeling seeing the blood of people they once cared for all over the house. “The only survivor was Ivy. I’m going to go check on her now. But it’s important we leave this house as soon as possible and get to a safe location. So please act fast. We’ll discuss this further once we leave. I promise you. Just go now.”

I wasn’t sure if it was that the dolls were just trained to take my commands and follow them, or if they were all too stunned to object, but they all scurried off to do as I asked.

“Where is she,” I asked Harley again.

“She’s in the bathroom trying to get cleaned up.”

I glanced around and noticed that though I saw a lot of blood, I didn’t see any bodies. “Where are all the dead? You said you killed three men? Where are they? Where are the women?”

“I have people taking care of the bodies for now. We’ll deal with all of that later, but I think we should leave the authorities out of this. It’s messy, and it’s best to let my cleaner take it from here. Trust me to handle all this, Victor. Though I’m trying to step away from that dark world because of Marlowe, I’m still the one to fix this for you. Let me take care of everything.”

“That’s asking a lot,” I said. “I know that since Marlowe moved in with you, you’re trying to turn over a new leaf. I can’t expect you to fuck up your life because of me.”

“Marlowe understands,” Harley said. “I didn’t exactly have a choice when I killed those fuckers. But I sure as shit picked a shitty time to stop carrying a gun with me full-time. Marlowe isn’t exactly happy I had to still kill, but I’ve spoken to her and informed her of what’s going on. She was the one to suggest what I’m about to also offer you.” Harley looked down at his bloody hands and began cleaning them again. “Take everyone to my house in the bayou. The only way to get there is by boat. It’s safe in the sense that there is only one way to get to the house. We can guard the entry point easier, and hear if anyone is attacking. The people who are responsible may not think to find you at my place. They most likely will come back here first, then your other properties, and maybe even Spiked Roses. I don’t think any of those fucks would have the balls to fuck with me even if they do eventually figure your location out.”

“I couldn’t put you and Marlowe out like that. There are a lot of dolls and—”

“I don’t offer things I don’t want to do. And Marlowe insisted. She’s already setting up the rooms and making all the necessary arrangements,” Harley interrupted. “And I need time to figure out exactly who was behind this. So at least until I get all the facts, I really think it’s what we should do. I don’t want to see any more of your dolls get killed or kidnapped.”

“Nor do I,” I said through clenched teeth. I took a deep breath as I processed Harley’s words. “Fine, but only if you promise me that we’ll find the asshole behind all of this, and I get to kill him. Not you. Me.”

“You have my word.” Harley lifted up his bloody hands. “I’m trying to give up killing anyway. But as you can see, it’s not so easy for me to do.”

I started to walk toward the bathroom to check on Ivy. I stopped and placed my hand on Harley’s shoulder. “Thank you, man. I don’t know what I would have done had you not been here to help. I owe you.”

Not waiting for a response, I turned to find the one person I didn’t ever want to leave again. Never again would I leave her side. Never again would her life be at risk. Never fucking again.

* * *

Ivy

Staring in the mirror of the small bathroom, my body tensed, then froze solid. My eyes widened at the woman looking back at me. My hair clung in snarled knots around my head. Bloody smudges covered my face, hiding my perfect doll makeup from earlier, and my eyes were so dark with sadness. I looked beaten, broken, yet at the same time I stared at a woman who had survived. Spirit held my shoulders up, even as the blood-drenched dress I wore cast the presence of death from before. Tears pouring from my eyes, I took a deep breath, summoning whatever strength I had left to continue on. In the reflection of the mirror, I saw the door open. As if I were lost in a dream, I saw Victor on the other side.

He took a few steps toward me. “Ivy? Are you all right?”

One step at a time, he made his way to my motionless body. He approached me cautiously as if I were a caged animal that could attack at any moment. I saw the fear and sadness in his eyes. Harley must have filled him in on what had happened.

Turning sideways, I stared over my shoulder at the man I’d feared at one point I’d never see again. Did he know I failed him? Did he know I allowed Janie to be killed?

Despite his cautious tone, his familiar voice eased some of the panic tormenting my soul. I reached for his extended hand.

“What happened? Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Tears exploded from my eyes, streaking the dried blood on my cheeks. “Janie is dead, and so are Lisa and Trudy. I held Janie in my arms as she struggled in pain for her last breath.” A tortured sob escaped my quivering lips, forcing me to collapse to my knees as I felt like my body didn’t have enough air to survive on.

Like a wary wolf, he slowly placed a hand on my shoulder. Was he expecting me to bolt at any moment? I continued to sob into my dirty hands.

“What happened? Who did this?” I asked between gasping breaths.

Victor knelt down and wiped my hair away from my eyes, appearing careful not to come on too strong. “Harley told me that the price on a Drayton Doll has made you all a commodity. Therefore, in a lot of danger. I had no idea.”

“Who wanted us? What were they going to do? Sell us?”

Unable to keep from comforting me any longer, Victor lifted my shivering body into his embrace. The scent of Janie’s blood seared into my nostrils. Now I was spreading the proof of her death on his perfectly pressed pinstriped suit.

“I don’t know who ordered this, but when I find out…” His body tensed. “Harley is finding out. But I promise you, the men whom Harley didn’t kill, and whomever is behind this will fucking pay. I swear to you. I will kill each one and make it known to all to never come near one of you women again.”

I tensed, but didn’t pull away. I expected Harley to be violent, but hearing those words come from Victor’s lips surprised me and sent a shiver down my spine. I had no doubt he meant every single word.

“Can you tell me what happened? I heard from Harley, but not what happened before he arrived,” he asked.

Taking a deep breath to attempt control over my crying, I answered, “A bunch of men. They came in with knives and guns. They broke their way in. I tried to fight them off so one of the girls could run for help. But it didn’t work. They killed Janie, and I had to watch her die in my lap. I didn’t see the others, but Harley told me they didn’t survive.” I began to cry again, pressing my tear-soaked face into his shoulder. “I watched Janie take her last breath, and I don’t see how I am ever going to get the vision of her misery out of my head. She was in so much pain, and so scared. Those men were monsters.”

My misery mixed with fury. I couldn’t stop the rage. I wanted revenge just like Victor did. I wanted to take them all on. I wanted to scream! But right now, my weakened body could only cry.

Cupping my jaw, Victor lifted my face and kissed me lightly. His lips were cold and dry, but his attempt to comfort me at least eased my sobs. My shaking body warned of shock, and I was wise enough to see the signs of an upcoming breakdown. How much could I be expected to endure before the darkness claimed me? How much could someone take and see, and be able to handle it? Could I ever be all right after what happened?

Victor tightened his grip around me and whispered, “It’s going to be okay. You are going to be just fine.”

“How can you say that? Women are dead! How dare you coddle me, and act like I just had a bad dream!” I pushed abruptly away from him, my breath coming in serrated gasps. “Look around you, Victor! Your dollhouse is covered in blood. Those men killed for no reason. Janie is dead! The others are dead. And I can’t help but feel like they died because of me. So, no, it is not going to be okay! And how do we know they won’t come back and kill the rest of the dolls? Or others? If people want to kidnap us for money, more will come, right?”

Not bothered by my rage, he said, “Listen to me.” He stroked the blood soaked hair on my head. “I’m making sure that the dolls are all safe by upping security and utilizing Harley and his men, but right now I need to focus on you. You’re hurt.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

Victor tilted my head so I had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Are you? Are you really fine?”

Tears continued to spill. I shook my head and whispered, “No.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” He kissed my forehead. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you ever again.” He kissed my lips again, tenderly, tightening his grip around my body. “I am so proud of the fighter you are. I was told you killed your attacker. I know that couldn’t have been easy, but I’m really proud of you.” He tightened his grip even more, giving me comfort that I desperately needed. “But you don’t have to be strong any longer. Let me be strong for you.”

I sobbed even louder, as if his words gave me the permission to not hold back. I couldn’t do much else even if I wanted to. I felt completely broken—shattered into a million pieces. I cried in his arms until I couldn’t cry any longer. I mourned my friend. I mourned the life of a woman I’d grown to care about. And though I hadn’t known the other girls for long, I mourned them as well and their senseless deaths.

But if I didn’t stop crying—or at least try to stop—I feared I wouldn’t ever be able to again.

I wiped at my nose and took a deep breath. I needed to regain myself. I had no choice but to do so.

“When I got the call telling me what had happened, I have never been so scared in my life,” Victor whispered into my ear as his arms wrapped around me tighter. His lips traced the curves of my neck and shoulders. Hearing his declaration of emotion surprised me. Victor’s heart revealed itself. “I was told three out of the four women were dead. And as awful as it sounds, I pleaded to whatever fucking God was listening for that surviving woman to be you.”

“I feel so guilty that I lived and they didn’t,” I said.

“Don’t,” he said. “Never feel guilty. You had no control over what happened. I’m not telling you to just forget and move on, but you can’t blame yourself for living. Janie and the others wouldn’t have wanted that for you. You know that.”

Safe in his arms and snuggled up against his chest, Victor’s touch helped extinguish all the misery that had tortured me while I’d waited for his return. I was worried to ask my next question, but knew I had to. “So what do we do now? The dolls? The galleries? Are we safe to perform?”

He inhaled deeply. “Until we know who and what is behind the attack, Harley is moving all the dolls to his house in the bayou. He thinks it’s the safest place, and I agree. The Dollhouse isn’t safe no matter how many hired guns I place here. The location has been compromised, and if those assholes found the house, then others know where it is as well.”

“What about Berlin? You were headed there.”

“I canceled and turned the jet around the minute I got the call of what happened. I also postponed Japan since it’s coming soon as well. I’m not doing a thing further until I know fully what is going on in the murky depths of the seedy underworld.”

“Do the other dolls know what happened?”

He nodded. “They’re devastated, but also happy you at least survived. They can’t wait to see you, but I have them all packing right now.”

“We’re leaving now?”

“We’re relocating to Harley and Marlowe’s tonight. Marlowe is already preparing the rooms. It’s going to be a tight squeeze with everyone, but at least it will be safe for now.”

Safe.

Safe for now.

That was all I really needed to hear to regain normal breathing and dry up my tears.

Clinging to his warm chest, the world seemed right again, or as close to right as my world would ever truly be again. Victor pulled my hair away from my face. His smile disappeared, the light in his eyes shadowed, and any sign of warmth faded. His fingers grazed over the dark marks along my neck, face and chest.

“Ivy, I need to look at these bruises.”

I stared in silence as he examined my condition, clearly seeing my battle wounds for the first time. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

I shook my head.

His nose flared with his deep breaths. “Did they rape you?” he asked calmly, but his expression revealed a hint of anger… fury… rage.

I shook my head. Physically I really wasn’t.

I hadn’t been raped… not in the way he was asking. But something deep inside of me told me not to reveal the entire truth. I didn’t think he could handle the truth of what did occur. But I also knew he expected the full truth from me.

My heart pounded in my chest, lacking the strength and courage to relive the awful attack. He wasn’t listening anyway, was my excuse for not revealing the entire truth. His head needed to be calm, not hot with anger.

“Victor, please, forget about the bruises.”

“Tell me what happened, now.” The order was firm and unwavering.

“One of the men lunged at me, grabbed me by my neck, and threw me to the ground. I tried to get away from him, but he caught me and hit me repeatedly. I struggled to fight the sick fuck. He choked me, punched me several times, and then things got blurry. I tried to fight as hard as I could, but things went black and…” Tears burned my eyes. “Then he took the handle of the knife and…”

“What?”

I took a deep breath. “He shoved it inside my ass. Wanted me to have it inside of me like all the Drayton Dolls are known for doing.”

“We need to get you to the hospital now!”

I shook my head. “No, please. I already told Harley no. I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor examining there and asking questions that I don’t want to answer over and over again. Please. It could have been a lot worse, but I was able to stop it before he could fully… fuck me there.”

Victor lifted the shirt from the rest of my body, his fingers tracing along the bruises across my neck, chest, and ribcage. The pain in his eyes broke my heart.

“I should have been there.”

“Victor, you had no way of knowing.”

“I you and Harley hadn’t killed them, I’d kill them for what they did to you.”

“I just want to get out of here. I don’t want to have to relive this nightmare over and over again.” I wanted out of this house, but I also hoped that Victor would stay with me. The thought of not having him by my side filled me with a new sense of panic. “I’m so scared. I’m terrified of what might still happen. And I’m scared of being alone. Will you stay with me?”

“I’ll stay with you,” Victor whispered. “I’m just so sorry, Ivy. I had no idea this would happen. I would have never even created The Dolls and my art showings if I had felt any of your lives would ever be in danger. I didn’t realize I was opening the gates to hell so every fucking sick soul could enter.”

“You had no way of knowing,” I mumbled against his chest. “Just like I have to forgive myself for Janie’s death.”

“I should have been here to protect you.” Guilt flooded his expression. “To fight alongside Harley. It should have been me killing those men. Not him.” He looked at me with such sadness in his eyes. “To know what they did to you, and the fact that you had to see such an awful act. I just want to take all the pain away from you.”

I pulled away and stood up, wrapping my arms around my still shaking torso. “You’re here now. And right now I need you.” I made my way to the bathroom door, feeling a renewed sense of strength. “I want to help pack and see the other dolls. I’m sure they are terrified too.”

Victor opened his mouth to speak when I cut him off.

“I’m bruised, I hurt, but I’m alive.” I gave a warm smile for the first time and added, “Please let me join the others. At least for now. You can have someone look at me, or you can examine me closer once we are at Harley’s. Right now, I just need to go grieve with my friends whom I’m sure want to know I’m okay.”

Walking so he stood in front of me, he brushed a strand of hair from my face and sighed. “Fine. But no lifting or doing any of the work. Your body has been through a lot.”

I nodded in compliance. I wasn’t tired and didn’t want to rest, but the look on Victor’s face made it clear what would happen.

“I won’t lift a finger,” I insisted. “I just want to see the others and clean up some more.”

“Fine. But quickly. I’m going to go talk to Harley about the plans, but after that, I don’t plan to leave your side again. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes. We’re clear.”

And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The thought of Victor never leaving my side again is what gave me the courage to leave that bathroom and face reality. My new reality.

Victor helped me walk out to the living room where Harley and other gun-toting men stood. I had Victor to lean on. Victor was here. Victor would protect me. The thought of safety when others lost their lives brought fresh tears to my eyes. But it was nice knowing I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t dead. I stood with Victor’s arms around my broken body, and something deep inside of me told me that with Victor’s help, I would be all right.

Chapter Eighteen

Victor

“I know you’re all scared and wanting to know what’s going to happen,” I began as all the women filled Harley and Marlowe’s living room. “As you can see, Ivy is all right and we’re thankful for that.” I paused to smile at Ivy who stood next to Amber who had her arm around her bruised body. “But we lost Janie, Trudy, and Lisa in the most awful of ways. Harley and I are using all our resources to find out who did this. They will not get away with this. Someone will pay for our friends’ deaths. I will make damn sure of it.”

Marlowe walked up to where I stood and handed me a crystal glass full of scotch. I fucking needed it.

“Thank you,” I said to her as she went about offering drinks to the dolls who also clearly needed one. “For now, my number one concern is that everyone is safe. Harley and Marlowe have offered their house for now. We have security positioned outside, on the pier, guarding every door, and even in boats watching the waterway. There is no way that anyone is entering this house.”

“What about the police? Can’t they help us?” a doll asked from the group of scared women who stared at me with wide eyes.

“No police right now,” Harley interjected. “Certain crimes need to be handled differently. You all need to trust that we have this handled. We ask for twenty-four hours. If any one of you aren’t satisfied with the results and what we have to say, then we’ll get the police involved. You have my word.”

Glancing around, I could see that all the women seemed content with what Harley had offered.

Marlowe chimed in. “The rooms upstairs have had extra cots brought in that should accommodate everyone. It will be tight, but there are plenty of blankets and pillows. I stocked the bathrooms with extra towels as well. We have plenty of food and booze that I expect you all to help yourselves to all of it. My house is your house while you are here. Please don’t be shy or hesitate to ask for a thing.”

“Who could do something like this?” Allen asked.

“All we know,” I began, “is that Harley had heard rumors that Drayton’s Dolls were being discussed, and that there was a possibility there was a price on the black market for them. He didn’t have any confirmation of that fact, but came by to warn us. And when he did, he walked in on Ivy and the others already being attacked.”

“So the fame of the art exhibits attracted the wrong people,” Joseph said, shaking his head. “Sick people.”

“But didn’t the attackers get killed?” Amber asked.

“I killed the men,” Harley said, glancing at Marlowe who scowled as he said the words. “But they weren’t the one calling the shots. The person who does that never does his own dirty work. There is someone behind all of this, which means he’ll regroup and try again. Our job now is to find out who that person is so we can take care of him to ensure all of your safety forever. But we will. Trust me.”

“So, it’s been a long night, and I think we could all use some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll have answers. I promise,” I said. “I promise you all something else. I won’t hide anything from you. When I know more, so will all of you.”

“There’s food in the kitchen if any of you want something before bed,” Marlowe said.

I turned to Harley. “Thank you, Harley. I mean it. I won’t forget this.”

Harley nodded to the large window that overlooked the pool. “My house guest who lives in the pool house is in Europe at the moment, so the pool house is free. Why don’t you take it? I have another room for Joseph and Allen to share on the main floor. The dolls can have the entire upstairs.”

I looked outside at the small house with the lights of the pool shining upon it. I then looked at Ivy and nodded. “Thank you. I’m going to take Ivy with me. She could use a good night’s sleep, and I don’t plan to leave her side again.”

“Do what you want, but it’s yours for as long as you like,” Harley said.

I walked over to Ivy. “You and I are going to be staying in the pool house.” I wasn’t asking, but I didn’t expect Ivy to argue with me either.

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat? Drink?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just tired.”

I took hold of her hand, thankful to feel the warmth of her palm in mine. Such a simple touch, but so powerful in the sense of relief I felt at that very moment. I had her. She was safe. I would make sure that fact would never change again.

* * *

Ivy

I entered the pool house and sat down on the end of the bed, my fingers trembling with all the built up terror of the day.

I buried my face into my hands, doing my best to quiet my tears, to stop their flow. My shoulders shook gently, all the shame and humiliation from the day rushing at me all at once now that it was quiet and I was away from all the dolls I felt I had to stay strong in front of. The next thing I knew, Victor’s arms were wrapped around me, pulling me against his body, stroking my hair, soothing me. My hands pressed to his chest, my cheek against his shoulder, I continued to cry, unable to stop.

“Seeing you crying like this breaks my heart to know I caused it. I never meant for anything like this to happen. It was the last thing I wanted. I left you all unprotected, and I am sorry for that.”

“I don’t blame you.” I sniffled, trying my best to not appear so broken and weak.

“No, it is not all right. It’s not, and I’m going to make damn sure the people who are responsible pay for this. You’re mine, and no one fucking touches what is mine.”

I looked up at him, my face streaked with tears, my eyes still holding back the tears I no longer wanted to shed. “I’m yours?”

Victor nodded. “As long as you’re one of my dolls, yes.” He reached down and rubbed his thumb over my cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that threatened to fall from them.

I sighed gently when he touched my face, looking at him with desire for so much more, taking his hand in mine and lacing our fingers. I bit my lower lip, my eyes drifting to the floor. “Those men violated me. Humiliated me and then did so much worse to the others. But I just want to forget. I want to act like nothing happened so I can move on. I know that is awful, but I just want to close my eyes, go to sleep, and then wake up and pretend that this was all just a really bad dream.”

My gaze met his just moments before I found my lips captured in a passionate kiss. I had never been kissed like this man was able to do before. Not this intense and powerful, at least. His mouth pressed firmly, dominating mine as only Victor could do, but his tongue pushed past my lips with the gentlest insistence, softly dancing against mine. I returned the kiss with the same level of passion. Not because I was a Drayton Doll and felt as if I were supposed to be submissive and do as he asked. Not because I was a doll trained to simply act and not think, but because I had never wanted something like this before. Something so simple and yet so powerful at the same time.

He pulled away slowly, leaving me panting for more. I closed my eyes again and leaned forward, expecting him to kiss me again. When he didn’t, I opened my eyes, confused. Victor had worry washed over his face.

“I need to know if you’re all right. That those men didn’t cause actual bodily harm when that man used the knife handle on you.”

I nodded. “I’m fine. My body is fine.” My face grew hot and perspiration beaded on the top of my lip. “I just want to feel normal again. Not a victim. I want you to look at me with desire rather than pity.”

Victor grabbed my shoulders gently. “Don’t misread my concern as pity. And trust me… there is definitely desire when I look at you. But… Will you allow me to look for myself? I know you said earlier that you didn’t want a doctor, and I understand that. But will you at least let me see that you really don’t require medical attention?”

I almost choked on the air I had rapidly inhaled. “What?” Even though I’d offered him the opportunity earlier, that had been meant to keep him from taking me to a hospital. I hadn’t been serious, and yet it appeared he’d was quite serious indeed. My face grew even hotter as I cleared my throat. “You want to examine me? My anus?”

Victor nodded as he said, “To make sure there isn’t any tearing.”

If there had been a deep and dank hole to climb into, I would have happily gone, but I still silently agreed with a slight nod of my head.

“Go and lie on your stomach on the bed. You should be more comfortable there.”

I did as he asked, just wanting to get this over with. I knew arguing would get me nowhere, and the only thing it would do was prolong this embarrassment. I quickly walked to the end of the bed. I wondered whether I should remove my torn dress or not. No doubt he would have to move the ruffles out of the way anyway, so I decided to disrobe completely and crawl up onto the bed. It felt good to be rid of any lasting signs of the awful experience anyway. When I heard his footsteps, I spread my legs a little wider, trying my best to be a good, submissive girl. Though the night had been a horrendous experience, I still craved that side of me to not be lost. I wanted to still submit no matter what, and I wanted Victor to know this fact. I also wanted to feel the feelings I once did for this man without allowing those attackers to get into my head. I wouldn’t allow them to steal my sexual need and passion.

He moved to the edge of the bed and reached for a pillow. “Lift up, and allow me to place this under your hips. It will make you more comfortable and assist me in seeing more clearly.”

I did as he asked, as a throng of butterflies fluttered their wings against my insides. Even though I wanted to bury my face into the mattress until this ordeal was over, my curiosity kept my eyes on Victor as he went to the bedside table and dug around, eventually pulling out a bottle of lubrication with a wicked smile on his face as he looked at me.

“Lucky us,” he said. “We’ll just borrow a little of this.”

He positioned his body behind my upturned bottom, opening my legs even further apart. Without pause, he spread my cheeks and began the examination.

“If at any time this hurts, please let me know,” he said, barely above a whisper.

I just nodded as I felt his finger circle my anus.

“Does that hurt at all?”

“No.” In truth, it actually felt good. My pussy throbbed with every gentle caress of his fingertip. Maybe that was awful considering everything that was going on. Maybe I should be sad and in mourning, so, therefore, shouldn’t allow any pleasure to come. But I didn’t care. I wanted to feel good. I wanted to allow the sensations of pleasure to come.

“That’s good. I don’t see any tearing on the outside. I’m going to press my finger in now. If it hurts, please tell me.” I heard him open the lube, and moments later, I felt the moist coolness of his slick finger touch my anus once again. “Ready?”

I nodded. With my silent permission, Victor pressed just barely past the opening. Only the tip of his finger breached my tender hole. He didn’t move, allowing me to both physically and mentally adjust to the invasion.

“Do you feel any discomfort?”

I wondered if the juices leaking from my pussy would give away that his finger in my ass was giving me erotic pleasure rather than pain. “No, sir,” I squeaked, as submission flooded over me.

The feeling was so welcomed.

So needed.

Victor began to circle his finger in my inner channel in a spiraling motion, slowly easing deeper as he moved his finger. “Do you feel any stinging as I do this?” He rubbed his finger along the ridged walls inside me, shooting jolts of electricity through every sense in my body.

I shook my head, breathless.

“I’m going to go even deeper. I’m going to press past the ring. If it hurts, please let me know.” Without waiting for an answer, he pressed deeper, going beyond the second barrier.

Signs of arousal trickled over my clit and mound. I couldn’t help but spread my legs even wider and press my butt up against his hand. The action drove his finger in deeper, causing me to moan loudly against the most delicious invasion.

“Pleasure or pain?” he asked, as he thrust his finger all the way in.

I moaned louder and grabbed the sheets of the bed into my fists. “Pleasure. Complete pleasure.”

Victor removed his finger and quickly got off the bed. When I turned to see why he had stopped, I found him undressing. Once naked, Victor resumed his position, but this time he flipped me onto my back, thrusting a finger into my pussy.

“How does this feel?” he asked huskily.

A moan was my only answer.

He added a second finger and pressed even deeper into my hungry cunt. “And how does this feel?”

I arched my back and moaned even louder.

Keeping his fingers planted in my pussy, Victor leaned forward and took my breast into his mouth. He sucked and nibbled as my pleasure grew. He pulled away from my pebbled nipple just enough to ask, “How does this feel?”

I moaned even more, being rewarded by Victor thrusting his fingers in and out of my pussy over and over again.

“I want to fuck you,” he growled as he took my other breast into his mouth with a little more force than the last time.

“Yes. Please,” I begged.

In one fluid motion, he pulled his fingers out of my wet pussy and placed his cock at the entrance, applying pressure but not breaking past. He paused and looked into my eyes. “Are you all right with this?”

I nodded, suddenly scared that he would stop. That he would think I was far too traumatized to even consider having sex. When in all actuality, it was exactly what I needed to feel whole and human again.

For the first time since our first kiss, Victor placed his lips gently to mine. A slight buzz rang in my ears, and all I could do was open my mouth slightly, allowing him access with his tongue. Victor wasted no time and delved his tongue in, deepening the kiss. He applied a little more pressure with his cock at my pussy as he continued to kiss.

After what felt like an everlasting embrace, he pulled away and whispered, “If this ever becomes too much—if you aren’t ready for this—you be strong enough to say stop. Submission does not mean sacrifice. You come first. What is going on in your mind is just as important to me as what is going on with your body.”

With that command, his lips once again crushing mine, Victor pressed his cock all the way into my body in one quick motion. I cried out against his kiss, allowing him to swallow up the initial biting pain as my pussy adjusted to his large size. He remained still once he was fully planted inside me.

I was the one to begin moving my hips in hopes of more. Victor didn’t need any further coaxing. He began to thrust his cock in and out of me with a rhythm that almost hypnotized. He lowered his finger to my clit and applied pressure as he circled around my nub. My juices of arousal coated his dick, making each thrust of his cock wetter and slicker than the last.

He nibbled on my neck and whispered, “Allow the sensations. Feel the pain, feel the pleasure, feel me as I claim what is, and always will be, mine. No one will ever fucking touch you again.”

Over and over his cock pumped into me. The steady passion reminded me of a drum, beating its way to orgasm. I had imagined what this day would be like—the day I finally got to be intimate with a man I truly had feelings for—but hadn’t even come close to the pure ecstasy that coursed through my core. Pump after pump of his hard cock brought me closer and closer to a peak I knew I wanted to reach. And once I reached it… I jumped off into an explosion of pleasure that shook my body. A scream escaped my lips as it was met with a guttural moan from Victor as he too jumped off that peak.

As his seed spilled inside my body, I lay limp beneath his weight. Chills of pleasure danced along my skin, followed by the soft kisses of Victor. Being with this man, I felt alive, free, and for a brief moment… everything in my life seemed quiet. Calm.

Chapter Nineteen

Ivy

Early the next morning, the sun shone brightly through the glass windows of the pool house on Harley’s property. I let out a slight groan and shielded my eyes from the intense rays. My head still pounded from the attack the evening before. I squirmed from underneath Victor’s protective embrace, something he must have done in his sleep.

I reached over and brushed away the few strands of his dark hair that fell over his eyes, allowing my fingertips to trace the black twisted root tattoos that weaved around his collarbone and ran along the skin of his neck. As I caressed, I thought of all that happened yesterday, and knew that I was truly lucky Harley had walked in when he had. I barely knew the man, yet for some reason I knew I could trust him, and I was happy that my friend Marlowe had fallen in love with a man like him. They were living together now, and I had never seen Marlowe so happy before in my life.

Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes while I watched Victor sleep as the sunrays entered the room and landed on his body. He moved his head, moaning as he awoke. As he opened his eyes and looked directly into mine, I gave a weak smile. The corner of his lips curved into a soft smile to match mine.

“Hey,” he breathed. “Morning.”

“Good morning.”

He pushed himself into a more upright position and ran his fingers through his tousled hair while he let out a tired yawn and stretched out his muscles.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked.

“Not long. The sun and my headache are not a good combination,” I managed to say.

He scanned my face and head, no doubt taking stock of all my cuts and bruises from the attack. Concerned, he pulled me close to him. “Come on,” he said as he helped me up and wrapped the blanket at the end of the bed around my shoulders. “We need to get some food in you. I’m going to run into the main house and get us something.”

“Coffee too, please,” I added as I watched Victor pull on his clothing and slip on his shoes.

Without saying another word, Victor was out the door and I was alone. Even though I knew it was for a short minute, I hated the feeling. I’d promised myself last night to try not to keep reliving the nightmare, but I couldn’t help it. The awful visions kept knocking on my memory, demanding to be let in. Poor Janie and the others. It almost seemed like a dream and that it hadn’t really happened, but I knew that if I were to walk into Harley and Marlowe’s house right now and saw all the dolls, Janie would not be one of them. Her sweet smile would not be greeting me.

The doorknob rattled and then the door opened, snapping me from my morbid thoughts. Victor juggled a tray in one hand while he pulled the door closed with his other hand. “Pastries and coffee,” he said. “Marlowe has quite the set up in there for all the dolls, and she had this tray ready and was about to deliver it to us.”

My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten much lately. No doubt adding to my weakened condition. I felt a little dizzy when I tried to walk over to Victor, so decided it best to sit back down where I was.

Victor set the tray on the bed next to me. Along with plates, there were also two glasses of orange juice. My mouth suddenly dry, I picked up one of the glasses and sipped the delicious liquid.

“I’m not a huge breakfast person,” he said with a grin. “But with this spread, it’s hard to not become one.”

“I’m hungry. We didn’t eat dinner.” I reached now for the pastry, shoving it into my mouth in a not so lady-like way, the flavor dancing across my tongue.

After about ten minutes of eating our breakfast in silence, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Victor?”

Victor picked up the tray and moved it to a nearby table. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Coming back to where I sat on the bed, he lifted his fingers to my right temple and pushed back a lock of my hair. Lightly, he ran his fingertip along a cut on my head. “We just need to get you back on your feet. That bastard could have killed you.”

“I know,” I breathed, as the realization almost made me ill. “If Harley hadn’t walked in…”

He leaned over and cupped my chin. “You shouldn’t have been put in that danger to begin with. I had no idea the level Drayton’s Dolls had grown to. The popularity and the morbid fascination of some ruthless men put you all at risk, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It should never have gotten to this level. Especially without me knowing.”

“You’re a famous artist. I only was at the one gallery, but I can see why The Dolls became so famous so fast.”

“Well the type of fame I got is clearly not what I wanted. I don’t want The Dolls to be exposed to sexual predators. Things have to change.” He took sips of his coffee as he looked out the large windows at the pool outside.

My temple pounded now, but I was trying my best to hide it from him. He had worried enough. “What’s going to happen now? Are we going back to The Dollhouse?”

He patted my leg. “We’ll discuss all the logistics later. You need to finish eating so you can get some rest. I still plan on making you do as little as possible until I know you are completely okay.”

“What about the other dolls? Are they going to stay here? There isn’t enough room for everyone for long. I’m sure Harley and Marlowe will want their house back.”

“Finish eating,” he pressed.

“I want to help you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this all yourself.” My eyes were growing heavy. Exhaustion and a full belly were a deadly combination.

“Don’t worry. I hired the best team for all of this. We are putting together a plan now,” Victor said, smiling.

“I need to join the other dolls,” I slurred. “I don’t want them to think I’m getting special privileges or being treated differently.”

“You are being treated differently, but that’s because you’re mine. My doll.” Victor lowered his mouth and gave me a soft kiss. Pulling away far too quickly for my taste, he said, “It’s time you get some sleep. We only slept a few hours last night, and you need a lot more after what you went through.” He placed his palm on my chest and pushed me back onto the bed.

I closed my eyes and sighed. “I don’t want to be left alone.”

Plucking the last of the pastry from my slack fingers, he placed it on the tray. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

I nodded, happy with his answer.

He pulled the blanket up to my chin and tucked me in. “Sweet dreams, Ivy. No more nightmares. I won’t allow them to happen ever again.”

Chapter Twenty

Victor

I sat and stared out the window as the sun set against the landscape of the bayou. Ivy had slept for most of the day, tossing and turning ever so often as no doubt nightmares haunted her sleep. Nightmares that I had caused. I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive myself for what I put her through, and for what had happened to those three innocent women. But after the decisions I made today while Ivy slept, I hoped that I could, at the very least, make sure it never happened again.

Allen and Joseph had thought I was insane when I told them, and even Harley had thought I was overreacting, but I didn’t care. I knew I was making the right decision. It was the best for me, and most definitely the best for Ivy. Even if it meant losing her forever, at least I would know she was safe.

As Ivy stirred awake, I turned to see she was opening her eyes and stretching her body, greeting me with a smile.

“Well, hello, sleepyhead,” I said, taking in her disheveled look and loving every inch of it.

She looked around and outside at the setting sun. “What time is it? Did I sleep all day?” She sat up quickly as if panicked that she had missed something.

“You clearly needed your rest.”

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she asked, “Were you in here all day? Just watching me sleep?”

“No. Marlowe was in here with you while I took care of some business. Just in case you woke up, I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Business?” Worry washed over her face. “What’s going to happen now?”

A heavy, thick lump of despair formed in my stomach as I knew what I needed to tell her. I didn’t want to say the words that would force me to lose Ivy—my special doll—forever, but I knew there was no other way.

“I’ve shut production down of Drayton’s Dolls permanently.”

Her head tilted, and her eyes narrowed. I could see she wasn’t processing my words fully. “I don’t understand. What do you mean shutting down production? Until whoever is behind the attacks is caught? Is that what you mean?”

I took a deep breath and stood, struggling to not go and sit by her because I feared I would just kiss her and forget what I was supposed to do. “No. I’ll find out who is responsible with Harley’s help, but it won’t stop there even if we kill the bastards. Harley has confirmed that there is a large bounty on each doll’s head on the black market. If someone got a hold of one of you, there would be a bidding war in the sex slave trade. I can’t live with myself if one of you were kidnapped and sold at some sick fucker’s auction.” I turned to look out the window again, not wanting to look into Ivy’s beautiful green eyes. “It’s not safe to be a Drayton Doll any longer. Therefore, I am eliminating The Dolls and The Dollhouse immediately. I won’t be holding any more art exhibits that involve the dolls ever again.”

“You’re going to just give everything up?” The raised pitch in her tone, told me enough without me even having to turn to look at her. She was reacting like all the other dolls did when I told them that they were no longer going to be a Drayton Doll.

“I don’t want you to worry,” I began. “Every doll will be compensated. I’m going to go ahead and vest everyone as if they had served their full three years.”

“You can’t do this,” she said. “You can’t just shut down The Dolls. It’s your art! It means so much to all of us. What about all the other women? They can’t possibly want you to shut down production.”

I turned to face her and offered the best fake smile that I could. “Today’s the day that everyone’s dream gets to come true. Every doll inside that house today left with the funds to begin their new life. To live their dreams they always had.”

“They all left? Just like that? Without saying goodbye?”

“Yes. Everyone exchanged their contact info, and they left theirs for you inside. I didn’t want a big production over everyone leaving. Everyone’s been through enough heartache and shed enough tears for a lifetime. And we didn’t have a lot of time. You all can connect with each other after this awful ordeal is over and each of you are safe and no longer a doll. Harley wasn’t sure how long his house would truly be safe. If word got out that the dolls were located in his house, more people could come with the same intention of what happened at The Dollhouse. The only option was to split everyone up now, and quickly.” The look on Ivy’s face stabbed at my gut. She appeared heartbroken with the news. “This isn’t a bad thing. It’s good. Everyone gets to start their dream early. Put all this death and misery behind us.”

“But what about your dream? Drayton’s Dolls was everything to you. You had worked so hard to build it to the reputation it had. What about Japan? We worked so hard.”

“My dream got three women killed. And I almost lost the woman I loved all because of a kinky fetish art piece. My dream became a nightmare right before me, and I was completely blind and helpless to stop it. I won’t make that same mistake again.”

Ivy’s eyes grew wide and her body froze. In the softest of voices, she asked, “The woman you love? Is that what you just said?”

I hadn’t realized I had said the words. They were the truth, but I hadn’t meant to just blurt them out like that. I did love Ivy. I knew this. I’d known this a long time ago, but facing the reality that I almost lost Ivy made the fact of how much I truly loved her all the more powerful.

“That’s what I said.”

Her eyes welled up with tears. “You love me?”

I nodded and slowly made my way to her, lifting her out of the bed to pull her into an embrace. The soft cotton of the nightgown she still wore from the night before allowed me to feel every curve of her body as I held her firmly to my chest. If we could only have stayed like that forever, not having to face the future, not having to get ready to say our goodbyes.

Not ready to let her go, I still held tightly as I asked, “So, I’ll ask you the same thing I asked all the dolls earlier. What is your future dream? College? Start a business? Do you plan to go back to your home town in Mississippi?” I didn’t want to hear the answer, but I also knew there was no denying my time with my doll had come to an end.

She shook her head, her face pressed against my chest. Her arms held onto my back as if she never wanted to let me go. “No. I don’t want college. I don’t want to start a business. I definitely don’t want to go back to Mississippi, though I’ll always help my family financially from afar. I’ll find a way for that no matter what.”

“Then what dream do you want? I don’t want you to hold back. I know you haven’t worked for me for long, but you deserve the same thing as every other one of those dolls if not more. So tell me. I’ll help you make that dream happen.”

She pulled away enough so she could look up into my eyes. “Anything?”

Her delicate features staring up at me made me want to swoop her up into my arms, lower her down onto that bed, and make mad passionate love to her. But I had to stay focused. I had to do what was right for everyone before another incident occurred.

“Anything,” I said.

“My dream is you,” she whispered.

My heart skipped a beat. I wasn’t sure if I heard her correctly. “What was that?”

“You said you would help me achieve my dream. Well… my dream is to be with you. Not as your doll, but to be that woman you just admitted to loving.” A single tear fell from her eye. “Because before you, I didn’t have any dreams. I had nothing but loud chaos knocking against every nerve in my body. But not now. You have silenced my storm.”

“But you deserve so much better. You deserve a future that you can shape however you please. I’m now offering you the resources so you can do that.”

“I don’t want your money. I want you. Because you, Victor Drayton, are the man that I have fallen in love with as well.”

Her words were like an explosion detonating inside my gut, my heart, my soul. She said the words that I should have been thrilled to hear, and yet I hated them as well. She wasn’t supposed to want to stay. She was supposed to want to leave like all the other dolls had done. She was supposed to take my financial support and run off to follow her forever dream. It was the only way to keep her safe. To prevent her from being attacked again because of my name. I couldn’t risk her safety for the sake of love. I just couldn’t.

“No,” I said firmly.

“But you said you would make my dream come true.”

“No.”

“But you said you loved me.”

I broke our embrace and walked a few feet away, keeping my back to her. “No matter what my feelings are for you, I can’t make that dream of yours come true,” I said, though the words killed me to say. “There are too many sick bastards out there who want to hurt The Dolls. You staying with me will only put your life at risk. What if you’re kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder?” I turned to face her, noticing that tears ran down her pale cheeks. “I couldn’t live with myself. I’m staring at bruises on your face because of me and my fucked up vision of The Dolls. I allowed Drayton’s Dolls to become a kinky, sexually depraved peep show for the sickest people in the world to lust after.”

“But that wasn’t your intention, or your fault,” Ivy said as she walked toward me and extended her hands, which I refused to take.

“Ill intentions or not, it’s what happened.”

“So what now for you?” she asked. “What do you plan to do?”

That was a good question that I really didn’t have the answer to. “I still own several galleries. I’ll focus on running those with the help of Allen and Joseph. I’ll eventually work on my art again… maybe.”

The sadness in Ivy’s eyes quickly changed to fury. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. So, you’re just going to send me off with a large check. Is that it? Like you did with all the other dolls?” Her fists balled up, and her back stiffened. “I thought I was different. You said I was. I believed you. I was your special doll, or was that just kinky, sexual and depraved as well?”

Fuck. The last thing I wanted was to piss her off.

“No, not at all. Ivy, we had something different. I couldn’t describe it then, and I sure as hell can’t describe it now. I mean it when I say I love you. I fell in love with that firecracker inside of you that you somehow learned how to contain. I watched you dance with the fire and became mesmerized by your beauty as you did so.”

“Well then, don’t extinguish my flame. Don’t cast me off like you did the others. If I’m special like you say, and if you do truly love me, then allow me to stay. I want to remain with you. I want to help you run your galleries. I want you to teach me how. Give me that career. Teach me how to be a gallery owner with you. You asked what I wanted as my dream, and I’m telling you. Give me the dream that I’m asking for.”

“Your safety—”

“Is not at risk if I’m no longer a doll. Those people involved in the black market only want a doll, right? Well, you just disbanded the dolls. I’m just Ivy Adams. Just a white trash girl from Mississippi who is in love with a wealthy as fuck artist. Looks like I’m getting my own personal Cinderella story right here. I would consider that the best dream anyone could ask for.”

I walked up to her and cupped each side of her face with my hands. “Is this really what you want? Really?”

She nodded and gave the softest smile.

“You want to help me run my galleries?”

“And help you with your art.” She nodded again. “It sounds fun. And I want to be by your side always. Is that so bad of a dream?”

I shook my head. “No, that isn’t bad at all. It sounds like a dream to me as well.”

“Then grant me it. Give me my dream today like you gave all the other dolls theirs.” She smiled warmly. “And one more thing. Japan. Can we still go to Japan? I was really looking forward to it. I wasn’t looking forward to the dancing.” She giggled. “Not at all. But I really wanted to see the country.”

“Of course. I can make that happen.” I loved the idea of bringing Ivy with me to Japan—a place that forever would hold a special place in my heart.

“Then my dream is now complete.”

I couldn’t control my actions even if I tried. Pulling her into my arms, I held and squeezed her with all the built up passion I had been struggling to hold back. I wasn’t holding my special doll. No, not anymore. I was holding in my arms the woman I loved. I was holding the woman who had become my dream, my passion, my future muse. As I felt her heart beat against my chest, I knew that everything was changing between us. Ivy was no longer a Drayton Doll, and never again would I be expected to share what was mine. What would always be mine.

Chapter Twenty-one

Ivy

The blush took over my entire body without warning. I inhaled against the kiss and tried to regain my composure. The notorious Victor Drayton had a way of making me feel like a giddy little schoolgirl, even now when I was no longer one of his dolls.

Victor smirked. “Are you sure you know what you are getting yourself into? There’s no three year vesting period if you choose this dream.”

I tilted my head to look into Victor’s smiling eyes. The soft wrinkles at the edges gave his classic charm a sense of maturity that I found intoxicating. He kept my stare locked within his for what seemed like an eternity. His gaze single-handedly melted my heart. I oozed from the inside out. He had a power over my emotions that I was not used to allowing, and for that one reason, I knew I could never leave his side. His strength, his intoxicating dark demeanor, his aura just screamed out, Man.

Without looking away, Victor slowly leaned in toward me, with his mouth only inches from mine. “I want to feel your lips on me.”

He wasn’t asking permission, yet announcing his intent. So Victor Drayton. So fucking Victor Drayton.

I looked down at his mouth and then back into his eyes and softly whispered, “I’d like that.”

He placed a hand on each side of my head, and softly pressed his lips to mine. The touch sent tingles through my entire body. Never had a simple kiss given me such a powerful, intense reaction with anyone else—or even with Victor before now. It was just a kiss, and yet so much more. This wasn’t about passion like before. This wasn’t tied to sexual need or lust. This kiss now was about two people who finally confessed their feelings. This was a kiss of love.

The power this man had over me…

His mouth moved slowly along mine until his tongue lightly pressed past my lips. The warmth, and the wetness, increased the desire building inside my core. His fingers caressed my hair softly as his tongue continued to explore. A kiss, a high-inducing kiss, was more than I could imagine. I could smell Victor, taste Victor, and feel Victor. I wanted more. I wanted the kiss to last forever—never wanting his lips to leave mine.

“You feel so right,” Victor murmured between our entwined breaths.

The sound of his voice, muffled by the kiss, provoked an involuntary gasp, revealing how locked in his hold I had become. Never would I have thought I would feel so much power from a simple kiss of love. At that moment, the only thing I wanted was for him to never stop.

His hands moved down my back, and he pulled me closer. My breasts pressed firmly to his rock hard chest with only thin layers of cotton between us. As our bodies merged, our kiss became more frenzied. Victor pressed his tongue deeper within my mouth. I responded by parting my lips wider and dancing my tongue with his. My breath mixed with his, my gasps swallowed by the kiss.

The all consuming, most mind-blowing kiss.

A kiss that I’d never known could exist before this day. With one single kiss, Victor Drayton—a man I’d never pictured spending my life with—had captured my heart even more than it had already been possessed.

Slowly pulling away, he looked deep into my eyes. His own glazed over as desire coursed across his face. He ran a single finger along my jawline and traced it along the edge of my needy lips. A small seductive smile formed as he leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.

We both stared at each other for a few moments, scanning each other’s face, searching for a peek into our souls.

I took a deep breath before speaking. “What is your dream now? What is your new dream and vision now that the dolls are no more?”

Victor lowered his mouth to mine again. He kissed with more passion this time, and with more excitement than before. His mouth continued to claim mine as I could feel his desire building—my desire building. I inhaled at the sudden change but pulled him closer with my hands clinging desperately to his back.

“You, Ivy. You are my new vision. My new dream. My new muse. Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me no, and I will back away this second.” Victor paused from his onslaught of kisses to examine my face. “But I have to warn you. My art becomes my life, my addiction, my everything. My art consumes every aspect of my life. It’s how many artists are. But I want you to be that art. I want you to fuel the hole that will be left with the end of the dolls. I want you, Ivy. Just you. But can you handle the artist?”

I smiled at the look of concern mixed with passion on his face. “I want that, too. I want to be your muse every single day from this point on. But right now. Right this moment. All I want is to feel you inside of me.”

“Ivy,” Victor moaned.

He moved his mouth to my neck and started to place soft kisses, while his hand slowly worked its way under my nightgown. His palm cupped my breast, and I arched my back to meet his touch. His lips moved to my ear, and he lightly nipped. I could hear his ragged breathing and feel his body tense with pent up passion.

I lowered my hand to his bulging erection pressed against his slacks. When my fingers made contact, Victor groaned in desire.

“Fuck! I want to be soft. I want to be gentle… but you’re driving me crazy.”

I undid his belt buckle, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants in one fluid motion. “I don’t want soft. I don’t want gentle. I want you to take me, Mr. Drayton. Take me hard,” I demanded as I wrapped my hand around his throbbing cock.

He grabbed and pushed me hard up against the wall. Reaching for my hands, guiding them above my head, holding them firm with one hand, his other ripped off my clothing. He yanked, he tugged, and he had me naked before I could even take my next breath. His lips pressed against mine with such force, such fierce command.

I had never felt such strength, such domination with all the times we had been together. This time was fueled with a different type of passion and energy. Victor moved his lips to my neck and began to kiss, suck and bite. With my arms still pinned above my head by his massive hand, I had no choice but to allow Victor to do as he wished.

I felt the sting of his teeth on my neck and mewled, trying to not focus on the fact that I stood completely naked before him.

He picked me up and carried me to the bed before I could fully comprehend what was happening. I was in his arms, I could feel his muscled chest flex beneath me. I could hear his heavy breathing thick with desire. I could smell his intoxicating scent. My head spun; I was consumed with lust, drunk with passion.

Before I could regain composure, he threw me down onto the bed. I saw him grab a pink satin ribbon from the waist of the doll dress I had worn the night before. Tearing it in half with his teeth, and then ripped it in half again, he took a piece and watched me with hungry eyes. He grabbed one of my hands and tied it to the bedpost, and then he did the same with the other. I had never been tied, never been defenseless. I tugged to see if I could escape, pulled to see if this was for real. With a mixture of fear and desire, I allowed myself to trust Victor, but at the same time, take delight in the sizzle of fear that coursed through my veins. I was helpless. There was nothing I could do to fight him off. I couldn’t stop what would happen next. And yet, even as my heart skipped, I loved the feeling. The complete abandon. Knowing he was now fully in control, but that I had absolutely nothing to fear. I didn’t have to fight anymore. I didn’t have to struggle. I didn’t have to count on only myself. I had Victor Drayton. I was in his hands, in his life, and under his protection always. I knew this. I felt this.

He stood before me and took off all of his clothes in the same rush and fury that had landed me naked and tied to the bed. His ripped, tight body stood before me in all its glory. With hungry eyes, he stared down at my body stretched out on the bed and seductively smiled.

“I’m saying goodbye to my doll, and saying hello to my muse. But I have to warn you again,” Victor practically growled. “My art will always be dark, kinky, and twisted in the best of ways.”

He reached for the rest of the ribbon, tore it in half with his teeth again, grabbed one of my legs, and tied one ankle to the bedpost and then secured the other, spreading me wide open. In mere moments, I found myself sprawled out on the bed, under Victor’s control. I tried to move, tried to test the strength of the bonds. A shiver ran down my spine when I couldn’t move. I was his. Yes, I was his.

“Victor…” I moaned.

He kissed one breast and then the other. He sucked each nipple, slightly nipping with his teeth. I gasped; I moaned. I had never been restricted before and not able to hold onto someone. The feeling of being defenseless was terrifying but electrifying at the same time.

“Please. I want to hold you,” I begged. The need to touch his skin consumed me.

Ignoring my plea, he continued his descent down my abdomen with kisses. He reached his final destination, his lips caressing every ounce of flesh, licking my entire mound until I was desperate for more. I was dying to feel his tongue delve into me. I wanted to feel the invasion, the penetration. The man had a way to intensify every emotion and sensation in my body. I needed him. I hungered for him. I craved everything about him. Yet, I knew the ultimate power was his, and he would lead this delicious dance as he saw fit.

“Victor!” I screamed when his tongue connected with my clit. A surge of sensation stole my breath. “I want you,” I pleaded as I tested the ties again. I was aching to touch, desperate to have some control back.

My body frantically searched for release any way that it could as I shamelessly ground my pussy against his face and mouth. I needed to come. God, I hoped he’d make me come. But I needed more than his mouth. I needed his cock in me, and just as I was about to demand he fuck me, he moved away from my needy cunt and lowered his body on top of mine. I tried to reach for him. I tried to embrace his body. But the constraints of the ties held me in place.

“Untie me,” I begged.

He simply shook his head and slowly eased his way in between my legs. He captured my gaze and never released it as his cock spread me wide. He stared deep into my eyes, linking our souls, connecting our energy.

He pressed deeper with every gasp from me as if my sounds of pleasure fueled the energy and desire inside of him.

I moaned.

He pressed on.

I cried out.

He fucked me harder.

His own moans became the soundtrack to the most amazing sex of my life. Just when I thought it couldn’t be better with this man, he proved me wrong.

Victor pressed deep within me and suddenly stopped. Without either of our bodies moving, I could feel nothing more than his dick deep within me. Taking that moment of stillness did something to me. I felt a connection and closeness I hadn’t known possible. I looked into his eyes and just smiled. It began with just my lips, but staring into Victor’s face, I knew my pleasure was reflected in his eyes.

“I’m yours,” I admitted freely. “Not as your doll, but as yours.”

“I wanted nothing more than to hear those words.”

“Untie me. Let me show you how much I’m yours. Let me prove how much I want to belong to you,” I whispered.

Victor lightly touched his lips to mine, pulled his cock out of me, and then slowly untied one hand and then the other. He took his time to untie and after each bond was removed, he kissed and licked the reddened area to soothe the sting. I hadn’t realized how much I’d fought against the restraints until he did so.

Once all the ties were removed, I crawled into Victor’s lap, pressed my lips to his neck, and took the moment to just be held and feel protected. I enjoyed the soft, the calm… the love. I moved my lips to his and kissed him until I felt that our lips had melted together. His breath was mine, my breath was his. I felt his tongue lightly move along mine, his hands caressed, we embraced.

Victor eased me onto my back and slowly rubbed his cock along my throbbing clit. The sensation sent an emotion through me that nearly brought tears to my eyes. I became whole, so complete. Having Victor so close to me felt… right.

He moved the tip of his dick at a slow and sensual pace. He caressed my hair and smiled softly while looking into my eyes. “I can’t do soft any longer. I need to fuck you hard before I explode,” he confessed.

A growl worked its way past his lips as he grabbed me by the hips and in one hard thrust, drove himself deep within the warmth of my body. I wrapped my legs tighter around his back and thrust my hips to drive him even deeper. I moaned at the feeling of him spreading me. I craved more. I wanted him to drive in and out at a rapid speed.

I felt like a sex-crazed vixen beneath Victor as he pumped in and out with a force and speed that brought an impending orgasm near. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my lips to his again. He drove his tongue deep within my mouth, never letting go of his grip. He dominated me with the pull, with the thrust of his hips, and with the power he had over the building explosion of pleasure begging for release.

“Let go for me. Let go, baby,” he demanded with a deep sensual voice.

Knowing—through all my time of being trained as one of his precious dolls—that I should never go against one of Victor’s commands, I let the climax take over. The fire worked its way from my toes all the way to my head. My moan became louder, louder until it became a scream.

With the sound of my release ringing throughout the room, Victor pumped hard one last time, filling me with his seed. Claiming me. Marking me. Forever his.

No longer his special doll.

I was simply… his.

The End

Devils & Rye

Chapter One

Alec

Written words have the power to punch you in the gut and knock the air right out of you if they are delivered correctly.

And as I sat in my favorite black leather chair on the second story of Spiked Roses, I felt as if I had been beaten repeatedly until all signs of life had left my body. Holding the letter in my hand, as I sipped an aged rye, I struggled to regain my composure.

What the fuck just happened?

How did this happen?

I had left that life behind, but now it was staring back at me in my old business partner, and best friend’s handwriting. Was I a fool in thinking I could run away and leave it all behind me? That I could leave Athens, Georgia, to start a new life in New Orleans owning a members- only, exclusive men’s club called Spiked Roses and start anew?

Yes, I was a damn fool.

I took a sip of my drink and ignored all the scantily-clad women who worked my high-end establishment. I usually paid closer attention to how their bodies moved—a perk of my ownership—but tonight I had other things on my mind. Glancing back down at the letter, I read it again, hoping the words had somehow changed and the news before me wasn’t as nightmarish to read the second time around.

Alec,

My dear and oldest friend. Yes, I know it has been a long time. Too long. But you were wise in getting away when you did. You warned me. Hell, you all but begged me to step away gracefully with you while I had the chance. But I couldn’t. The pull was too great.

That blue blood runs too strong inside of me, and I will forever be haunted by the past. And I’m sure you heard the rumors that the past has finally caught up with me.

She’s gone. But you know that, and you know what I did to try to stop it.

Though I knew the day would come—most likely come too fucking soon—it doesn’t ease the pain in the slightest. I miss her every single day and have not been able to move on. Losing a wife is the greatest pain a man could experience, and I hope to God you never have to experience such agony.

Was her death enough to have me step away from the dark temptation of my own demons? Should I stop and think what losing two parents would do to Makayla?

Yes.

I should.

But, I have never claimed to be a wise man.

I did my best by Makayla. I sheltered her the best I could—maybe too much. I protected her, guarded her, and damn near suffocated her. I tried to keep the shadows of my past from seeping into the twisted haven I tried to create… but clearly have failed in doing so.

You are my last hope for her. Makayla has no one else.

I have no one else.

I first sent her to New Orleans to find you and to secure a job at Spiked Roses. I thought this would give her the opportunity to be on her own, finally live life as an adult, and to break free from her gilded cage. She would be free from my prison, but still have you—her Uncle Alec—close by to keep an eye on her as she discovered her new freedom.

But like everything in my life, it isn’t that simple. Setting her free only puts her life at risk, and I know that.

They know. They know where she is.

Her name was on the stone.

I beg of you, Alec. Please help.

I don’t want to pull you back into their grasp, and I wouldn’t involve you if I had any other choice. But her life depends on it. Depends on you.

You know I am a dead man, even as I still breathe, for my answer to them was no.

They will never have my daughter.

I will still try to fight. To see if there is anything I can do, but you and I both know…

I fear there is nothing I can do to change my fate, but I sure as hell hope to change Makayla’s. But I turn to you to help me make that happen. Please keep her safe from them. Give me the time I require to cast off those dark shadows that threaten to take her away. I will not make Makayla pay for the crimes of her father and her father’s father and all the fathers before.

So, Alec, I beg of you. If our friendship meant anything to you—which I believe it truly did before I got myself deeper into this mess—take her to our place. It’s safe there and it hasn’t been used for a decade. Makayla will recognize it and feel a sense of home. I think it will help comfort her in what could be a challenging time. I don’t know for how long, but I will send word. You know I wouldn’t ask this of you if there were any other way.

When I sent Makayla to Spiked Roses to find you, she was excited for her new adventure. This was her chance to finally experience life as a young woman should. No doubt, when you hand her the letter attached to this one for her, she will not be happy. The idea of being locked away in her gilded cage again will devastate her, but I know she will still do as I ask. The question remains, will you?

If anyone can keep her safe and protected, I know it is you. Step in and be the protector that I no longer can be.

Until my next correspondence,

~Rhett

Fuck.

It was just as nightmarish as the first time I’d read the letter. Even worse. My friend was a dead man. I knew this. He knew this.

Fuck.

I had warned him. I had begged him to leave.

Fuck.

Finishing my drink with one long swig, I fought the overwhelming urge to puke. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. My ears rang and my vision dimmed. If I didn’t get my shit together, I was going to faint like a damn southern belle wearing a corset that was too tight.

I had to focus.

Makayla. Fucking Makayla needed me.

Me. What the hell was Rhett thinking? I was as far from the knight in shining armor as one could get. Saving the pretty damsel in distress wasn’t my thing.

“You all right, dude?” Harley Crow—a friend and current business partner—asked as he sat down next to me with a glass of vodka in his hand. “Your ass looks like it has seen a ghost.”

Glancing at the man, but lost in all the swirling thoughts going on in my mind, I mumbled, “Yeah, a fucking ghost.”

Harley glanced at the letter in my shaking hand. “Bad news?”

“Something like that.”

“Anything I can help with?”

I was half tempted to say yes. Having the notorious Harley Crow get involved could possibly fix it all, but I also knew that even a ruthless assassin such as Harley couldn’t kill them all. Demons have a way of multiplying. And I couldn’t get the man involved, even if he could wipe them all out. Asking anyone to step into that dark and twisted world of my past was a different kind of murder.

“I wish. Just my past coming back to haunt me.”

“This have anything to do with your niece we just hired?”

I shook my head side to side slowly and closed my eyes as if I could shut away the nightmare. “She’s not my niece. I told you all that at the meeting.”

“Whatever, dude. She calls you Uncle Alec. So she clearly thinks she’s your niece.”

“Yeah, it’s complicated.”

Complicated wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the situation we were now in.

“Where is she, by the way?” I asked as I opened my eyes to find Harley scrutinizing me with his dark and narrowed eyes.

Harley shrugged. “Haven’t seen her. My guess is with Tennessee, training.” Harley took a slow drink, never breaking his stare. “You sure you are all right?”

I stood up with a heavy sigh. “I have some things I’m going to need to handle. I need to go away for a while. Do you mind letting the other guys know? I’ll keep you all posted once I have a better feel of what I need to do and how long I need to be away.”

“Yeah, no problem. But why don’t you just tell them yourselves at the member’s meeting in fifteen minutes?” Harley said.

Shit. The meeting. I had forgotten all about it.

“You look like hell,” Harley said. “If there’s anyone who can help you deal with your shit, it’s the men who will be at the meeting. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t do to help each other. You know that.”

“Yeah, well you all have enough shit to deal with on your own. Did Victor ever find the fuckers who attacked his dolls?”

Harley scowled. “No. The problem with that is the bounty was so fucking high on those dolls that it really could have been any shithead wanting to profit off the black market. Shutting down the dolls was really the best thing he could have done.” He took another sip of his drink. “But right now isn’t about Victor. It’s about you. What’s up?”

“I just have some fucked up demons lurking that I need to battle.” I stood, determined to face this head on. “I doubt I’ll be at the meeting. Just tell them that I had some family affairs to deal with and had to get out of town for a little bit. I’ll be in touch when I can.”

Without saying another word, I left Harley sitting with his vodka as I went to search for Makayla. No one could help me battle these demons, but sadly these same demons had Makayla by the throat and were squeezing the life out of her. She just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Two

Makayla

“All right, sugar pop. We are going to start you off working the front door. At least until you turn twenty-one. No jail bait working the floor under my watch. I don’t care who you are related to. Rules are rules, and you can’t waitress until you’re old enough to drink booze. I’m not going to risk Spiked Roses being shut down because of you,” Tennessee Charles said as he handed me a red lace dress. “You’ll wear red as your uniform. I usually put the blondes with pale skin in black, but I’m going to have to make an exception with you. I don’t think your uncle would be too thrilled with me dressing you in a black leather leotard and chained collar. We’ll save the kinky side of the club for another day.”

I was prepared to do anything Tennessee wanted me to do. This was my first job ever, and I knew I had a lot to prove. I also knew the only reason I got hired was because of my Uncle Alec vouching for me. Especially since I was only twenty years old and had absolutely no experience. But I was determined to show Tennessee and all the managing members that I was an asset to Spiked Roses regardless of my age and inexperience in just about everything.

I took the folded dress from Tennessee’s outstretched arms. “Thank you. I understand why I can’t work the floor, and I don’t mind at all. I’m just happy to have a job.”

Tennessee tilted his head and crossed his arms against his chest as he studied me. “It’s none of my business, but I’m a catty bitch who loves to gossip. So dish it, girlfriend. What’s your story? I was told that your daddy used to be Alec’s business partner. Which means you come from money. A shitload of money. So why are you working here? Did Daddy cut off the sugar?”

“No,” I answered softly. “I could still have the sugar if I want. But it was time for me to get out from under his thumb and start my own life, you know?”

God, if Tennessee only knew just how much I truly needed to get away from my father’s suffocating control. Or just how badly I needed to breathe freely for the first time.

“And your daddy was okay with you working at Spiked Roses? Does he even know what this club is and what goes on here? The Tastings?” Tennessee shook his head and walked over to a shelf of black high heels. “I can’t imagine any daddy being okay with his baby girl signing a contract to engage in sexual acts with anyone.” Tennessee held up two pairs of shoes and said, “It looks like you are a size seven or eight. Which one?”

“Eight,” I answered. “And no, my father forbid The Tasting Room. That was one of his rules, and one of the rules I’m sure Uncle Alec will make sure I follow.” When Tennessee walked over and handed me the shoes, I added, “But even though I can’t do The Tastings, I promise you I won’t expect any special treatment. I plan to work harder than everyone else. And if you need me to cover shifts during The Tastings or anything, I will be completely free to do whatever you ask.”

“You don’t have to do a Tasting to work here. So don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. That’s just where all the money is. The girls who work The Tastings make bank. Major bank. Hell, I would work them if I could.”

I hated the fact that my father placed limitations on me working here, but I was so desperate to have his blessing to move out and move to New Orleans, that I would have promised my soul to the Devil to make that happen. I didn’t want to stand out from the other women who worked the club, but I also knew that word most likely would spread fast that one of the managing members was my Uncle Alec. And as for The Tastings, I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to act in those. I had the same sexual experience as the Virgin Mary. Me going into a room that revolved around taboo, fetishes, and kinks would have been comical. I would have been laughed right out of there. I couldn’t fake my way through that. Even I knew I had limitations.

I looked toward the bathroom door, and then I looked at the dress in my hands. Tennessee must have read my thoughts.

“Go on in there and change. But trust me, missy, there ain’t nothing of yours I haven’t seen, nor do I want any part of. Titties and coochies just aren’t my thing.” He motioned for me to head over to the bathroom across the room. “Hurry up. I need to get your training started. I don’t have all night.”

Walking over to the bathroom as quickly as I could, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I couldn’t tell if Tennessee liked me or not. Living in my small little bubble in my father’s mansion made it hard for me to read people. I didn’t have social skills. I knew this. And it sucked that my anxiety was at an all-time high because I had no idea if I was starting off on the wrong or right foot with my direct supervisor.

Shutting the door behind me, I removed my clothing and got dressed in my new uniform as fast as I could. The dress—if you could call it that since it was mostly see-through red lace—was harder to put on than I’d expected. The back had a tiny zipper that got snagged on the fabric. No matter how much I tugged, I couldn’t pull it up all the way. Remembering Tennessee’s words about me not having anything he hadn’t seen, I decided that it was better to walk out to the staff room and have him assist me with the zipper rather than keeping him waiting while I fumbled around unsuccessfully.

“Tennessee?” I called as I walked out barefoot in a dress that barely covered my ass. “I can’t get this zipper up. Do you mind helping me?”

“Yeah that happens sometimes,” he said as he met me halfway. “Lower the top half so I have some slack to work with,” he directed as he walked up behind me.

I did as he asked and lowered the dress to my waist, exposing my upper half completely. There was no one in the room, and even if there were, I knew that working here would require for me to get over my bashfulness. It wasn’t like the red dress covered all that much of me to begin with. I knew for a fact that Daddy had never stepped foot into Spiked Roses. He knew all about the place, but had he actually seen what my uniform would consist of, he would have had second thoughts about allowing me to work here—Uncle Alec watching over me or not.

“These damn threads get tangled in the zipper and—”

The door of the staff room opening interrupted Tennessee. We both turned our heads to see who entered, and I gasped when I saw my uncle walk in. I instantly tried to cover my breasts with my arms, but it was too late. He had seen. I saw where his eyes were focused, and it wasn’t on my face.

“Uncle Alec…” I said with an awkward smile.

Regardless of the fact that I hid my breasts behind nothing but my arms, I was happy to see him and wanted to run and give him a big hug. It had been years since I had seen him last, but he still was the man I remembered. His brown hair now was speckled with gray along his temples, and his rich brown eyes had lines of laughter around them, but he was still the Uncle Alec of my childhood. The years had been good to him.

I also didn’t want to move because Tennessee was still tugging on the zipper, and I didn’t want to wreck any progress he had made.

Uncle Alec cleared his throat and diverted his eyes and stared off at nothing. “I need to speak with you.”

“Me?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. Can you get dressed please?”

“Hold on,” Tennessee said, who still worked at freeing the zipper. “Just a second and this dress will be fixed.”

“Actually, I want you to get back into regular clothes,” Alec said as he once again glanced at my chest.

“But my shift just started,” I said. “Tennessee was just about to start training me on how to be a hostess.”

“I’m not asking,” he retorted with enough bite that it felt as if he had slapped me across the face. “Now.”

Talk about a warm welcome.

Chapter Three

Alec

I was going straight to hell. I shouldn’t be looking, but fuck if I could help it. Jesus Christ she was hot. Smoking hot.

Makayla. Sweet, innocent, little Makayla.

Her perky tits with their soft pink nipples were on display before me. Like a tempting buffet just begging to be feasted upon. Her blonde bangs rested right above her big blue eyes. Like a god damn angel lost in the black world of Hades.

“Uncle Alec? I have to work… and I…”

“Makayla,” I warned. My patience was wearing thin, and the fact that her bare breasts were only a few feet away from me didn’t help the situation.

“It’s okay,” Tennessee said as he pushed her toward the bathroom. “Do as the bossman asks. He’s one of the men who signs all of our checks.” He glared at me, and I could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled with having his training interrupted and me coming in here pulling rank, but I didn’t really give a fuck.

Makayla walked toward the bathroom, holding the barely there red lace up over her breasts. The zipper was still down and rested at the curve of her bare ass. Staring at her exposed back, her creamy white skin… what the fuck was wrong with me?

“What’s going on?” Tennessee asked.

“You’re going to need to get a new hostess. Makayla is leaving,” I said with little emotion.

“Wait, for good? As in not working at Spiked Roses?”

I nodded. “Something’s come up.”

Tennessee shrugged. “Your call. Do the others know? I’ll need Kenneth and Matthew to do more interviews.”

“Tell them,” I said a little harsher than I intended. “They’re meeting in about ten minutes or so. Go in and let them know I had to leave with Makayla. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Tennessee shrugged again. “Not my inconvenience. I don’t care who works here as long as she does her job and doesn’t pull any diva shit. There’s only room for one diva, and that’s me.” He walked toward the door of the staff room and turned to look at me. “Are you all right?”

I didn’t answer but turned to see Makayla exit the bathroom in a black tank top and blue jeans with the red dress in her hands. Tennessee didn’t wait around for an answer, but left instead. I liked the man. He knew how to read cues and always knew when he should exit stage left without a word.

“What’s going on?” Makayla asked. She walked over to where dresses and leotards hung and placed her dress back on the hanger.

“We need to talk.”

“Clearly,” she said as she looked at me with a small smirk on her face. “You are making this really tough on me you know. I’m going to have a hard time proving my worth and making people feel I actually deserve to be here. Starting off as your niece isn’t going to make it easy. Everyone is going to think it was handed to me.” She crossed her arms against her chest, pushing up those perky little breasts that I had forever burned into my memory as bare and breathtaking. “I don’t want special treatment.”

“You aren’t going to be able to work at Spiked Roses,” I said as I wondered how I was going to break the news of what her father said to me easily. I wasn’t good at shit like this. I didn’t have a sensitive bone in my body, and tact wasn’t my friend.

“What are you talking about? You guys hired me.” Her soft features hardened, and her eyes narrowed. “If you think my father would disapprove of me working here, you’re wrong. He wanted me here so I would be close to you. He set some rules, and I’m not allowed to do any Tastings, and I’m fine with that.”

“Your daddy wrote me a letter,” I began. “Things have changed since you’ve been hired.”

“What’s changed? What letter? I just spoke to him on the phone a couple of days ago when I arrived in New Orleans. Everything was fine, and he was happy for me. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know how much you know of your father’s past, and his current business dealings.”

“Enough,” she mumbled as her azure eyes seemed to darken.

I swallowed hard, nervous as fuck to be breaking the news. “He wrote me a letter saying things aren’t safe right now. For him… for you. He’s asked that I take you away. Protect you. He also asked for me to give you this.” I pulled out the envelope that was addressed to Makayla.

She took the envelope and then stared up at me with wide, frightened eyes. “Is he okay?”

I nodded, even though I had no idea if he truly was. I knew what could happen to him, and from the look of terror obvious in the eyes of his daughter, she also knew the level of horror of what could occur.

“He’s asked that I take you to the lake house. For a while. To keep you safe and away from everything,” I said, hating the way my stomach clenched as I said the words. Leaving for the lake would mean that I agreed with Rhett. That I too knew it was the only way to keep Makayla safe and away from the danger that could come for her.

“The lake house?” She looked down at the envelope in her hand. “The one we went to all the time when I was a kid?”

I nodded. “We still have it. It hasn’t been used in a really long time, but we’ve had a property manager keep it up.”

“Why the lake house?”

“It’s safe. No one will know we are there. Your father asked that I take you there, but I have to agree with him. It’s isolated, far away from Georgia, and no one will be able to reach you.”

“So I’m in danger?”

I found it odd that she seemed afraid when she asked about her father being in danger, but didn’t seem the least bit frightened as she asked about her own safety. Her question was so matter of fact.

“Your father believes it’s a possibility.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been away from the world your father walks in for quite some time. So, I just don’t know.”

She looked back down at the letter, and with shaky fingers, sliced the envelope open and took out the folded paper. She looked up at me, back down at the letter and read out loud:

Makayla,

I always told you growing up that if you aren’t willing to bend, then you will surely break.

There has been a change of plans. The danger that has always been present while you were growing up has only grown worse. I thought simply having you leave Georgia would be enough to remove you from their hold and the evil, but I was wrong.

I have sent a letter to your Uncle Alec informing him of the new plan, and I am confident he will follow my wishes to a tee.

I know this isn’t what you wanted. I also know that you are disappointed that once again, you have to go back into hiding, but there is no other way.

Please do as your uncle says. Listen to him as you would me. It’s been years since you have seen him last, but he is a man who I trust with my life… with your life.

You won’t be able to reach me, but I will be in touch soon.

~Papa

Her voice quivered at points while reading his words, but I saw such poise and strength as the little girl that I knew, who now was clearly a woman, stood before me. When she was finished reading, she looked at me. I could see a glaze of tears coated her eyes, but not a single drop fell.

“What did your letter say?” she asked.

I didn’t want to tell her. My letter was much more ominous, and I didn’t think she could handle knowing what I did. “Basically the same thing. He asked for me to take you to the lake house until everything gets sorted. He’s worried for your safety, and asked for me to step in and watch over you while he works things with his… past… out.”

“So what’s the plan? We just leave? Right now?”

“Yes. I’ll make a few phone calls to get some things in order. I’ll let the property manager know we are on our way so the house will be ready for us. I think we should leave now.”

She gave a slight nod. “Can we swing by my place to pack my things?”

I nodded. “We should get going though. And you’ll need to pack fast.”

“Uncle Alec?” she said softly.

I looked at her, reminded of the sweet girl she once was all those years ago, with those big wide blue eyes of hers. “Yes?”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I admitted.

“I’m scared,” she confessed. “I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.”

“I know. But it’s going to be okay. We just have to get to the house and wait out the storm. It will all work out in the end.”

I was a liar.

A fucking liar.

I didn’t see this working out at all. It was not going to be okay.

This storm was going to be epic and we were about to enter the eye of the hurricane. A dark, suffocating spiral of blackness.

I was just too much of a coward and a liar to tell Makayla the truth.

Chapter Four

Alec

We had been driving for what felt like an eternity, but even in the midnight hours, I still remembered my way. Makayla had been quiet for most of the trip, clearly lost in thought as she stared out the window at the darkened scenery passing us by. I was grateful for the silence, because I, too, was still figuring out how to process the entire situation.

Picking up and leaving everything was fairly easy. I knew Spiked Roses could do without me. Kenneth and Matthew ran the show for the most part. And my other businesses and investments practically ran on autopilot for me. I guess you could call me a man of leisure and semi-retired. I had earned my fortune and had worked my ass off for many years to get to this point. Now, I was fortunate to sit back and watch the money enter my bank account with very little effort. My pappy would have been proud. He always had lectured me growing up by saying that a wise man was a man who made money in his sleep. Looking back now, I was glad that I had followed that piece of advice of his. The lake house had Internet and cell service—though shitty as fuck. So, anything I needed to do for any of my businesses could be done remotely. The reality of the situation was that physically heading to the lake house wasn’t an inconvenience at all. Mentally, however, this entire trip was a complete mind fuck.

I kept going over scenarios of how I could try to help Rhett. I had left that sick life behind me, but it wouldn’t be too hard to dive back in if it could help. The fucked up fact was that I really couldn’t figure out a way to help even if I did get involved. And diving back in could expose Makayla, which I knew was what Rhett really didn’t want. He had the power still. He still controlled the safety of his precious daughter, and I didn’t want to fuck that up by trying to swoop in and play hero by foolishly trying to rescue a dead man.

“When was the last time you came to the lake house?” Makayla asked as she continued to stare out the window.

I sighed as I tried to remember the last time. “Well, it was with you, your dad, and your… mom. Before she passed.”

Makayla nodded. “So, the last time I was here too.”

“Yeah. It just never felt right coming back here without you guys. Without her,” I admitted.

“That’s why we never came back too,” she said sadly. “Papa said it would be too painful. That the memories of her here—where we were the happiest—would hurt us.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” I admitted as I stared at the straight, empty road in front of me.

“It made me sad not coming here, to be honest. I think Mama would have hated knowing we all would never come back. She loved it at the lake. She loved having us all there under one roof in what she called paradise.”

“Sometimes you have to close a chapter to move on.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see she had turned to look at me. “Is that what you did? Closed the chapter on us? Papa told me that you and he hadn’t spoken since Mama’s death.”

I nodded, swallowing against the lump in my throat. “It was best for me to just walk away from it all. There was a lot going on with the business that I wasn’t happy with. And with the death of Minka… it was just a really dark time that I needed to break free from. The business partnership needed to end for the good of everyone. I did what your father should have done a long time ago. If he had… well, if he had—”

“We wouldn’t be running off to the lake house for safety,” Makayla interrupted, speaking my thoughts for me.

Safety. Was that even possible?

I glanced at Makayla who stared out the window again. She rested her elbow on the door and propped her head up with her clenched fist. The dark shadows under her eyes revealed she was tired. Hell, I was tired too.

“Tell me something, Makayla,” I began. “Do you think your life is in danger?”

She shrugged but didn’t look at me. “Who knows? My life seems to always be in danger. I don’t even care any more to be honest.”

“Always in danger?”

“Yes,” she said as she glanced at me. “But I suppose you already know that.”

“To some extent,” I admitted. “But not really. I got out. I moved away and never looked back.”

“Well, my papa didn’t. If anything, he seemed to get in deeper and deeper with them.”

“Do you know who them is?” I wondered how much Makayla really knew about everything. How much did I have to protect her from the truth? Did she actually know more than me?

She positioned her body so she was facing me head on. An eyebrow rose as she asked, “Do you know who them is?”

Fuck.

I didn’t know how to answer her question.

I didn’t know if I should answer her question at all.

“We’re about to enter Old Pier,” I said, changing the subject. “Hopefully the gas station is still open twenty-four hours like before. We can pick up some basics to hold us over until we go into town for a full grocery trip tomorrow.”

Old Pier was the closest town to the lake house. Aside from the gas station, it had a small grocery, a few cafes, a restaurant only open for dinner, a fish and tackle shop, a barber, an ice cream and soda shop near the pier, and an antique shop that was housed out of an old barn. At least that was what all it had a decade ago. Who knew what was still around now. The quaint town had always been a favorite of mine, and I had hoped it hadn’t changed too much in the years I had been away.

Turning a corner, I was happy to see the lights of the gas station come into view. It was like stepping back into a fond memory that I had never released. Nothing had changed. It was the same white farmhouse structure with a single gas pump that announced we were only thirty minutes from our home sweet home.

“Looks like they’re open,” Makayla said. I could see a smile wash over her face for the first time since we had left New Orleans. “I wonder if they still have those peppermint sticks I used to love as a kid.”

I pulled up at the tank, deciding it was best to fill up now. “Let’s go in and see.”

Groaning as I got out of the car, I realized how stiff I had been during our drive. The tension I was feeling clearly had wrapped itself around every joint in my body. Stretching my arms above my head and trying to elongate my torso, I turned to find Makayla watching me.

Not saying anything further, I walked toward the tiny store with Makayla catching up to walk at my side. I was happy to find that the store still carried wine. It might not have been the most desired wine, but I would take grape juice spiked with moonshine if I had to at this point. I grabbed a few boxes of crackers, a bag of pretzels, some local beef jerky, some coffee for the morning, and some bottled water—all the fixings for a gourmet feast.

I found Makayla in the aisle gripping a fistful of peppermint sticks like she’d done so many years ago. She looked at me with a warm smile on her face. “They still have them.” She had grabbed as many as she could hold, and I noticed she had also grabbed a bottle of wine.

I held up my wine so she could see. “Great minds think alike,” I said.

“Yeah, it appears that way.”

It dawned on me that the last time we were at the lake house, she was far from being of age to purchase wine. Hell… she wasn’t twenty-one yet even now. Though I’m sure she just assumed I would be buying the groceries, so it was a non-issue. I couldn’t believe I would be sharing wine with… little Makayla. When had I become the old man?

I paid for our purchases and gas when the older woman asked, “Where you all headed at this time of night?”

“We have a lake house about thirty minutes from here,” Makayla offered with the kindest and most gentle voice. I think it would be impossible to not like her instantly on first meeting. “My uncle and I haven’t been there for long time.”

The lady looked at me, and offered a smile. She was probably happy to hear I wasn’t just some dirty old bastard dating a young girl and taking advantage of her. My black Lexus SUV outside showed I had a decent level of money though it wasn’t overly showy, but on appearance alone, it could appear that I was Makayla’s sugar daddy.

We headed back to the vehicle with our bags, and I glanced around pleased with what I saw… or could see in the darkness only lit by the almost full moon. It appeared like everything was just as it had been. From what I could see, there were no new buildings, no large supermarkets or chain stores. The road we’d been driving on was still a two-lane street with only a stop sign and no lights. It was almost as if time had stood still during the time I was away. My favorite town was waiting for me. Waiting for me to return with the promise of remaining just the way it had always been.

Perfect.

My home sweet home was perfect.

“Do you remember the rest of the way?” Makayla asked as we drove back onto the road once I filled up the gas tank. “I can enter the address into my phone and help us get there if you don’t.”

“I remember.”

I would never forget. That house had been my haven, and even though the circumstances now that led us to the house were horrific, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiar excitement as we got closer.

When I turned onto a graveled road off the main street, Makayla said, “Oh I remember this street! We’re almost there.”

I slowed down to a near crawl. The road hadn’t been driven on often—once a month by the property manager and housekeeper—and it was obvious by the large pot holes that were all over and the condition of the road in general. I also remembered how many deer were all around, and I didn’t want to risk hitting one by going too fast and not being able to stop in time.

“It’s funny,” Makayla said softly. “I still remember the feeling I would get driving on this road as a little girl. I would look out into the woods and watch for fairies and trolls. I knew they existed here because this place was always so magical.”

I nodded with a smirk. I hadn’t looked for fantastical creatures, but I did remember a sense of calm and relaxation take hold during the drive on the isolated road each and every time. It had been the beginning of my vacation the minute my tires changed from asphalt to dirt.

After about thirty minutes or so, I turned a corner to see the headlights of the car illuminate an old sign carved in a tree. The sign still hung with the one word:

Home.

“I remember when Papa carved that.”

“I do too,” I said as I drove the car down the narrow driveway toward the lake. Rhett had been such a romantic at heart. There wasn’t anything that man wouldn’t do to prove his love for his friends and his family. Declaring that this place was truly home for all of us by forever etching the declaration into wood was classic Rhett Knox.

When the house came into view, both Makayla and I let out a heavy breath as we stared in awe at the magnificence of the three story craftsman, eight-bedroom house, sitting against the backdrop of a glimmering lake lit by the nearly full moon. I knew the house would still be in excellent condition because both Rhett and I had paid for ongoing oversight and had just recently paid for a new roof for the house. At the time, it had seemed like an almost frivolous expense for a house both Rhett and I never used, but we both weren’t prepared to put it on the market either.

Stepping out of the car, both Makayla and I didn’t bother with luggage or our makeshift groceries. We would get to all that later. By the speed in which Makayla approached the wrap- around porch, it was clear she was just as excited to enter inside as I was.

“Same place?” she asked.

“Same place,” I answered as I watched her run to a small electrical box near the front door. She lifted the cover and pulled out the spare key from what we had all decided a long time ago would be the hiding spot. I had a copy on my key ring, but it was charming and nostalgic watching Makayla run to its secret location like she had always done as a child.

The memories flooding back were strong, but they were welcomed, and I enjoyed them. She had always been a darling little girl. Bouncing blonde locks that her mother always tried to contain, but Makayla had always wanted to keep free and wild. She still had those bouncing locks, and they appeared just as free and wild as they had before.

The sound of the door opening snapped me from my thoughts. As we entered the house, I inhaled deeply.

The smell.

It still smelled the same—like cedar and cinnamon, hints of rich coffee, and laughter. If laughter had a fragrance, the smell of this house was the aroma.

Looking around, everything was the same. The same large cherry wood table that sat twelve easily was the centerpiece of the room as it always had been. To the left side of the room was the large stone fireplace with the same damn floral couch that Minka had insisted on buying. I had liked to tease her that it reminded me of something a grandma would buy, but she’d adored it, and Rhett and I had left the decor decisions up to her. To the right side of the room was my favorite part of the entire house—the view. Rhett and I had made sure that the entire wall was nothing but large windows from floor to ceiling so that the view of the lake would be the only thing seen. Minka had placed another floral couch and two matching chairs in front of the window so we could just sit there on cool evenings and stare out onto the sparkling water as the sun set.

God, the clenching feeling in my gut made me realize how much I had missed this place. How much I had missed Minka, Rhett and Makayla. I had missed the life that once was.

“It looks exactly the same,” Makayla said in almost a whisper.

“The property manager was under strict orders to maintain but not to change.”

Makayla walked into the main room fully and made her way to the open kitchen that blended flawlessly with the open living area. The granite counters matched the earthy slate tiles of the floor that covered the entire downstairs. The inside of the house seemed to blend with the outside by our use of elements of the earth to decorate and build with.

“I’ve missed this place so much,” she said with tears in her eyes. “Mama loved standing right here,” she said as she stood by the kitchen counter and stared out the window that overlooked the wrap-around porch and the Adirondack chairs that were positioned to take in the magnificent beauty of the lake.

Makayla was right. Her mother had loved the kitchen. Minka had been such a fantastic cook and would spend hours cooking some meal that we would all sit around and eat while we drank copious amounts of wine and talked into the wee hours of the night. Sometimes we would invite other friends to join us, and other times it was just us. Though Rhett, Minka and Makayla weren’t my family by marriage or blood, they were as close to a family I had after Pappy had died. They had become my everything.

Makayla wiped at a falling tear and then turned to me. “Let’s go get our stuff and get something to drink and eat. I’m starving.”

Smiling and feeling relief that Makayla wasn’t about to break down into a fit of tears, I led the way back to the car.

We were home.

Home.

Chapter Five

Makayla

With a glass of wine in hand, both Alec and I walked around the house, taking it all in. Room after room, memory after memory, we walked in near silence as the house embraced us back. It was almost as if I could feel its wide arms swallowing me up and repairing a part of my soul I hadn’t known was shattered. I needed this place. I needed to feel close to my childhood again, to the good in my life, and to her… my mother. This house was her. It was her in every little knick-knack that was placed on ledges and shelves. I could see my mother in the books that were chosen to lie around in nice little stacks on end tables. I could feel her in the soft fabrics of the throws and quilts she had chosen for each bed in the eight rooms that had remained vacant for so long. I had remembered how she would make sure the best sheets and the fluffiest pillows were chosen for every single bed even if no one would be sleeping in them. She wanted this house to be perfect, and it had been. It still was.

“Hungry?” Alec asked as we walked back to the main room which was just one open large space with no walls. The only thing that broke up the room was the large granite countertop that boxed in the kitchen.

“I am.” I grabbed the bottle of opened wine as Alec grabbed the plastic bag of our gas stop goodies, and we made our way to my favorite place in the entire house—the covered, wrap- around porch. Large Adirondack chairs were scattered about, all positioned to get the optimal view of the lake. There were two large rocking chairs with a small wooden table between them which was my favorite place to be. I liked the rocking back and forth while I watched the birds fly about, and the squirrels bolt up the pine trees that were all around, but never in the way of our view. A hammock hung in the corner of the porch which had always been a favorite place of Alec’s, but he didn’t go sit there, choosing to sit in the rocker next to mine as he placed the bag of food on the table.

“Nothing like beef jerky and wine,” he said as he opened the package of food while I topped off our glasses with more merlot. “A true culinary delight right there, I tell ya.”

Taking the offered piece of dry meat from Alec’s hand, I turned my head to absorb the beauty of the lake that was illuminated by the large moon. “So pretty,” I said more to myself than him.

“It’s a shame no one got to experience this place for so long.”

“I always pictured that I would grow up, get married, have kids, and have them grow up coming here all the time too,” I said, remembering one of my childhood dreams.

“That can still happen.”

“Yeah right,” I said with a huff as I sipped on my wine, not looking at Alec. “You know my life. Do you see me having normal? Ever?”

He was quiet for quite some time as if my reply had stolen the words from his body. But eventually he said softly, “You deserve normal. Hopefully that can happen someday.”

With a smirk against the lip of my glass, I asked, “Do you really feel that way?” I released a sick laugh. “I thought so for a short time. When Papa had allowed me to finally move out of the house and start a life. I thought New Orleans and Spiked Roses would be my shot at normal. That didn’t even last a night. I didn’t even get through training before my not normal life came storming back in to sweep me away into the darkness I have been living in since Mama died.” I glanced over at Alec who was staring straight ahead with sadness in his eyes. “So whether or not I deserve normal, I am most certainly never going to get it.”

“What has your father told you about everything?”

I took a bite of the jerky and chewed for several moments wondering if I should tell Alec everything I knew. I had no reason not to be completely honest and open with him, but I had grown to doubt and be leery of everyone thanks to my father. “I know about The Iron Colt Brotherhood if that is what you are asking.”

Alec turned and looked at me with wide eyes. “He told you about them? About everything?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted. Was he trying to read me? “What? What did he say exactly?”

“That he—and you—are part of a secret society that goes back to before the Civil War era. The only way to be part of this society is via lineage or power and the ability to buy your way in.”

Alec nodded slowly. “Did he tell you about the inner workings?”

“I know that being part of the society can help make every man’s—who is willing to pay the price—dreams to come true. The power of the men involved, the connections, the favors that can be granted. Politicians have gained their positions because of the brotherhood. Investments that have formed multi billion dollar companies from nothing originated out of the brotherhood. Even things as simple as movie parts or book deals have come from the brotherhood. If a member asks for a ‘favor’, then the favor is granted by the other members of the brotherhood. But no favors come for free. For every favor you ask, you have to put your name on a rock that goes into a large urn.”

Alec stood from his rocker, walked to the edge of the porch, and leaned against the banister of the stairs that led down to a grassy patch of land. “He told you about the rocks?”

“That every year, rocks are pulled. The names on those rocks have to participate in a ritual of some kind. A ritual that could be deadly.” I took a long swallow of my wine. “I’m assuming that since I’m here, and Papa is not, that something has happened in regards to the rocks. Was his name drawn? Is he at the ritual?”

“Did your father ever tell you about the ritual?” Alec walked back over to the rocking chair, sat down, and started munching on some more beef jerky.

“No. He was never really open with much when it came to talk about the society, but especially about the ritual. Everything I know, I’ve had to pull out of him piece by piece. I would trick him sometimes and work my way on getting more info by pretending I knew more in hopes he would confirm and so on. I preyed on his distraction. He was afraid of the society. Fearful that they would get a hold of me for some reason. Every time the society got brought up, Papa would act agitated and anxious, so I knew there was a lot of secrets I didn’t know about.”

“Members aren’t supposed to discuss the brotherhood with anyone but another member.”

“He said that.” I wanted to roll my eyes. I was so sick of the damn secrecy. “But I feel that my entire life has been affected by this society. I feel I’m owed some sort of information. Don’t you think?”

Taking a sip of his wine to wash down his food, he said, “This is a conversation to be had with Rhett. Not me.”

“But will I have that opportunity any time soon?”

Alec’s face hardened, and he froze with the glass to his lips. He glanced at me for a second and then back at the lake. There was something he wasn’t telling me. I could see it. I could feel it. The tension sizzled in the air.

“What?” I set my glass down and turned so I could face him head on. “What are you not telling me?”

No answer. He just stared ahead and chewed.

“Uncle Alec. Please. I have the right to know. I came here without giving the slightest fight. The least you could do for me is be honest and keep me in the loop. I’m not the little girl you once knew. I’m grown now.”

Alec stood again, walked down the four steps to the grassy patch of grass, and stood with his back to me in silence. After a few moments, I followed him and touched his arm which caused him to flinch. He glanced down at my hand on his upper arm and then into my eyes but didn’t say anything. I suppose he didn’t have to. I knew something was seriously wrong. It had to do with The Iron Colt Brotherhood, and I could see that Alec was bothered by what I was saying.

“Is it the ritual? Papa once slipped in frustration and accidentally used the word ‘deadly’ to describe it a few years ago. I was angry that I couldn’t go out to the movies like normal girls could with friends, and he told me it was the night of a ritual and he wanted me to stay put and safe.” I squeezed Alec’s arm that I hadn’t released yet. “What is this ritual? Is it really deadly? Is Papa part of it?”

Taking a long breath, Alec finally turned to face me. “I don’t know everything right now. I’m in the dark as well. My letter said your father would be in touch soon and to stay put. I trust him enough to know that he will keep in contact, and we’ll know what’s going on eventually. I’m not going to jump to conclusions or get worked up over something we don’t know. Making assumptions isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“But he’s scared. Or he wouldn’t have asked for you to take me to the lake house to hide. Right?”

“He’s being cautious and protective as any father would be.”

“But he’s not here with us. That has to say something. He’s in danger right?”

Alec took hold of my hand and led me back to the porch. “I don’t know, Makayla. I really don’t know. What I do know is that we can’t sit here and worry non-stop. We have to wait. You father is a very powerful and resourceful man. I know he can take care of himself and handle things. He asked that I take you here and watch over you, which I plan to do. I owe him that because of our past and our friendship.”

His hand in mine felt good. It was warm and much bigger than mine. The touch gave me a sense of comfort, and I enjoyed the bodily contact. My father was not one for affection when I was growing up, and after my mother died, he grew even more distant. A simple hug or touch didn’t exist in my world. Not with my mother dead and me pretty much locked away in our house that had become my prison. I didn’t realize how hungry I was for physical contact until Alec’s touch of my hand overpowered me with foreign sensations. I could have held his hand all night and felt a sense of loss when he pulled his away after we got back onto the porch.

“You are just like him, you know?” I said as I took my seat and poured the rest of the bottle of wine into our two glasses.

Alec shrugged. “We were friends and business partners for a long time. I knew him for years. So, I guess it’s fair to say I’m a lot like him.”

“I meant that you do exactly what he always used to do to me. Never answer my questions. You avoid just like him.”

Alec reached for the bag of pretzels and tossed them my way. “It’s late and I’m hungry. We have this fine meal ahead of us. I suggest that we stop this talk of rituals and societies and just enjoy the house.” He picked up his glass of wine and raised it for a toast. “Your mother always had the rule of no business talk on night one when we arrived. We are supposed to make a toast to the lake and the house. No talk except about family and friendships remember? We are only supposed to drink and be merry.”

Feeling as if my mother was watching through the window of the kitchen like she always loved to do, I chuckled with the memory of how she would chastise my father and Uncle Alec for doing any business talk when we first arrived.

I raised my glass, and said, “You’re right. She would be spitting mad if she knew we had been at the house this long and not have already toasted to the lake.”

With glass raised, Alec said, “Here’s to the house, to the lake, to old memories and creating new ones.” It was the same toast we’d always given word for word in the past. “And here is to finding a safe haven in this storm of ours. We will emerge better for it.” The last part was added, but felt appropriate and welcomed.

“Cheers,” I said, realizing I was toasting for the first time with wine rather than sparkling cider. “And to my mother and father who aren’t here with us.”

“Who will forever be here with us,” Alec corrected. “Cheers.” He looked back down at the jerky. “Now, let’s take in the scenery and enjoy our gourmet meal and cheap wine.”

Chapter Six

Makayla

I was drunk.

I had never been drunk before, but there was no doubt in my mind that the feeling I was experiencing was what being drunk felt like. And I had fun getting to this point. Alec and I had eaten all the gas station food, and drunk the wine as we talked about memories at the lake. Laughing, teasing, joking around… it almost felt like we were truly on vacation again. That we weren’t at the lake because of any other reason. For right now, and for this night, it was just Alec and me having a good time. I needed it. I needed it more than I even realized, and I was so happy for my mother’s rule about the first night at the house to not be serious. Alec and I were far from serious as our laughter carried over the glassy smoothness of the lake.

Watching Alec top off our wine glasses with the rest of bottle number two—or maybe three—I giggled. “Papa never allowed me to drink.”

Alec stopped mid-pour and looked up at me with wide eyes. “Are you telling me this is your first time drinking wine? Drinking ever?”

I nodded and smiled wide as I giggled again. “Yup.”

“Fuck,” Alec said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Your father is going to kill me.”

I huffed. “He was too overprotective. He never allowed me to do anything.” I held up my wine. “So if I want to drink wine and get drunk, I will. I can.” I stood up and wobbled to the edge of the porch. “I’m a grown woman now. I’m not the little girl you think I am,” I said as I turned and looked at Alec.

I caught his eyes scanning my body. “No, you are definitely all grown up.”

“Exactly,” I said as I pointed the wine glass forward as if to prove my point. “Do you know he never let me date? He never let me do anything. I was homeschooled after Mama died, and I literally never left the grounds of our estate. My only friends were the staff or their kids. I grew up in a damn bubble.”

“That’s too bad,” Alec said softly. “But your father had his reasons.”

I turned to face him directly. “It is too bad,” I slurred. “And I know he had his reasons. But I’m over it. I can get drunk if I want. I can be with a man if I want. I’m not going to die by doing so.” I took a long swallow of my wine. “It’s about time I live.”

“I agree. It is.”

“But who is going to want me?” I asked, turning my attention back to the lake. “Let’s be honest. I’m a woman trapped in a little girl’s life. I haven’t done anything a normal woman has at my age. I’m a damn freak.”

“You are not a freak,” Alec said, walking up to where I stood and placing his hand on my back to offer some comfort. “Far from it. Plenty of men will want you. It’s refreshing to see a woman who hasn’t been tainted by the hardships of life. Your father kept you protected like a gem. And trust me when I say that every man in the world would want that gem in his possession.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” I asked as I turned to look at Alec. His face was close enough that I could see him clearly even in the darkness of the night.

“Extremely,” he admitted softly. “You look so much like your mother, but even more beautiful.” He reached out and brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Like I said, any man would be lucky to have you.” He looked down at my wine glass. “And if I knew this was your first time drinking, I would have splurged for the good stu—” Alec glanced at the house and then back at me. “I just realized we have the wine cellar. It’s full of wine.” He looked down at his half empty glass and laughed. “We’ve been drinking this shit, when I could have gone downstairs and gotten us a bottle from there. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

I laughed along with him but then shrugged. “To be honest, I wouldn’t know the difference between good wine and cheap wine.”

“Well you will tomorrow when you wake up with a headache. Cheap wine headaches are the worst.”

I stopped laughing and stared directly into Alec’s eyes, and then his lips. I wondered why my stomach was doing little flips at the proximity he was to me, and why I was curious what his lips would feel like on mine. I looked back into his eyes and saw that he too was watching my lips. Was he also wondering what they would feel like?

My inexperience and inability to read this situation confused me, and the wine only made it worse.

Feeling like I needed to say something to break the odd connection we’d just had, I said, “See? These are things I know nothing about. I’m twenty years old, and you are having to school me in the ways of cheap wine hangovers versus good wine hangovers. But tonight is the first time I haven’t felt like a child. You make me feel like an adult. Like an equal. But will I ever be an equal? Or will you always see me as little Makayla deep down?”

“I have to admit, it’s hard to imagine you as the little Makayla you once were. Especially how you look right now under the moonlight. Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I’ve never seen a more beautiful person.”

The blush took over my entire body without warning. I quickly looked away and tried to regain my composure.

Alec smirked. “I like the way you blush so easily.”

I slowly turned my head to look into Alec’s smiling eyes. The soft wrinkles at the edges gave his charm a sense of maturity. He kept my stare locked within his for what seemed like an eternity. I felt as if his gaze was single handedly melting my heart. Alec had a power over my emotions that I was not used to allowing or understanding. His strength, his casual demeanor, his aura just screamed out, Man.

Without looking away, Alec slowly leaned in toward me, with his lips only inches from mine. “We shouldn’t. It’s wrong. But it’s so hard to stop myself.”

I looked down at his mouth and then back into his eyes and softly whispered, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Alec moved closer, placed a hand on each side of my head, and softly pressed his lips to mine. The touch sent tingles through my entire body. My very first kiss. A kiss that I had no prediction would cause such a powerful and intense reaction in the depths of my core. His lips moved slowly along mine until I could feel his tongue lightly press past my lips to touch my own. The warmth, and the wetness, increased the desire building inside of me. His fingers caressed my hair softly as his tongue continued to explore. A kiss, the first kiss, was more than I could imagine. I could smell Alec, taste Alec and feel Alec. I wanted more. I wanted the kiss to last forever. Never wanted his lips to leave mine.

“We shouldn’t…” Alec murmured between our lips, yet he didn’t pull away.

The sound of his voice, muffled by the kiss, made me gasp. Never would I have thought I would feel so much power from a simple kiss. At that moment, the only thing I wanted was for Alec to never stop. His hands moved down my back, and he pulled me closer. My breasts pressed firmly to his rock hard chest. As our bodies merged, our kiss became more frenzied. Alec pressed his tongue deeper within my mouth. I responded by opening my mouth wider and dancing my tongue with his. My breath mixed with his, my gasps swallowed by the kiss. The all consuming, most mind-blowing kiss. A kiss that I’d never known could exist. With one single kiss, Alec—my uncle figure—had captured my heart.

Alec slowly pulled away and looked deep into my eyes. His brown eyes were glazed over, and desire coursed across his face. He ran a single finger along my jaw line and traced it along the edge of my lips. A small seductive smile formed as he leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.

“This can’t happen.”

“But… I don’t care. I want—”

“It’s wrong. So wrong,” he said, barely above a whisper.

I had so much I wanted to say. I had so much I wanted to get out, but the kiss had stolen all words from my mouth. I could only stare into his eyes and focus on breathing.

“But I’m so fucking weak,” Alec confessed as he brought his lips to mine again to give them a light brush, reminding me of the epic kiss only moments before. “But if we don’t stop here, I worry I won’t be able to stop ever.”

I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to do anything but continue with what we were doing. I wanted this. I did.

He pulled away and took a deep breath. “We’ve had too much to drink and need to get to bed. Sleep this off.”

He took hold of my hand and led me into the house. It was hard for me not to cross my arms in a pout. I had just had my first kiss of my entire life, and now we were going off to bed like it never happened.

“What bedroom do you want?” he asked as if nothing had just happened. As if we hadn’t just kissed on the porch. “You have your choice of any one. Do you want the master?”

I shook my head. “It feels weird sleeping in the room that Mama and Papa slept in.” I looked toward the right of the main room and pointed. “I’ll sleep where I always did. I always liked how my room opened up to the screened in porch. I can hear the birds chirping in the morning.”

Alec smiled. “I’ll take my usual room too. I love the view,” he said as he led me to my room, still holding my hand.

When we reached my room, Alec opened the door for me and followed me in. He walked over to the bed and pulled down the blankets. I stood in shock. Not sure what to make of what he was doing.

Was he tucking me in like a little girl?

Did he want to have sex?

Did I want to have sex? Yes… I think I did.

But I think Alec was simply pulling down the blankets before he went into his own room and nothing more?

The blush began to form without warning. I was thinking about having sex with Alec! Why was I thinking such crazy thoughts? Was this what wine did to you if you drank too much?

Alec turned, smiled warmly, and patted the bed. “Okay, come lay down. A good night’s rest will do you good.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to be alone. This house is too big and…”

He walked over, grabbed my hand softly, and led me to the bed. He sat me down and took off my shoes without ever saying another word. He then took off his own and stretched out onto the bed, pulling me into his arms.

“If you aren’t going to rest by yourself, you are going to lie here in my arms and sleep.” Alec kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms tightly around me. “Now close your eyes, quiet your mind, and just lie down with me.”

He said the few words I needed to hear. He understood that unless he was to lie with me, force me, make me do what was needed, I would overthink and not be able to get my father out of my mind. Alec understood me.

I pressed my cheek to his chest and could hear his heartbeat beneath my face. His arms were wrapped around me, and his steady breathing was like a calm that washed over my soul. For that very second, I could just be relaxed. I could just be calm and be soothed. This was a sensation that I was not comfortable feeling, but before I could really process the emotions going through me, I fell asleep. I fell into a deep sleep in Alec’s strong arms.

* * *

Alec

What the fuck was I thinking?

What the hell was I doing?

This was Makayla!

Little fucking Makayla!

I was nothing but a dirty old man, and I was taking advantage of a sweet, innocent girl. What kind of monster had I become?

As I lay in her bed, holding her in my arms, I silently chastised myself for being so weak. I had fucking kissed her! No amount of wine could excuse my behavior.

But I couldn’t resist. The hours we talked into the late hours as the sun threatened to rise, I found talk so easy with her. I wasn’t a man who could just chit chat with many. Maybe years ago with Rhett and Minka, but that all changed. Relationships never worked for me because I couldn’t ever give much more than physical and the women, or I, eventually grew tired of that. But with Makayla… we had talked and laughed about the simplest things.

Maybe this was just my cowardly way of trying to block out the awful situation we were all in. Maybe this was my way of mourning my best friend. Or maybe this was just me being an asshole.

Makayla whimpered in her sleep and snuggled up even closer to me. Her pert tits pressed up against my side, and I about lost my damn mind. My cock painfully tenting my pants was going to make falling asleep next to impossible even though the sun was about to rise. I needed to get some sleep if I didn’t want to be completely useless for the rest of the day. Not to mention, I needed to sleep off this cheap wine drunk that caused me to fucking kiss Makayla!

I’m sorry, Rhett.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I would do better tomorrow. I vowed it so. I would keep my damn hands off Makayla no matter how hot this woman was. I had self-control.

I had self-control.

Fuck.

I hoped I had self-control.

Chapter Seven

Makayla

My eyes fluttered open to find shadows cast against the walls of the room. Outside the window, I could see the sun had been up for several hours. It had to be midday by now. I tried to stretch awake and was restricted by strong arms wrapped around me. I was on Alec’s chest as it softly rose with his steady breathing. The smell of his manliness invaded my senses, and the desire to move my hand that was resting on his chest to his lower region was almost unbearable. This man had a power over me that I had never experienced. Everything about this was wrong. Papa would be so upset. So very wrong, but I couldn’t stop it.

I felt his arms tighten around me and pull me a little closer to his body. “Did you sleep well?”

His simple question and the huskiness in his voice sent fire through my body. “Yes… I did. Thank you. I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

“I guess we both have. It was a long drive and night,” I said, feeling the need to have small talk and not face what had happened before we had fallen asleep.

“Do you have a headache?”

I paused to assess my body to see if I did. “No. I feel fine.”

“You’re lucky then. Nothing is worse than a cheap wine hangover. Well, maybe cheap champagne hangover.”

“I had fun last night. Thank you for allowing us to just relax and not… well, thank you for just letting us have fun,” I said.

Alec patted my arm. “I had fun too. It’s been a long time since I have felt like that. Totally at peace and relaxed. This house always had a way of doing that for me.”

I adjusted my head so I could look into Alec’s eyes. “I’m glad you are here. That I don’t have to do this alone.”

We both stared at each other for a few moments, scanning each other’s face, searching for a peek into our souls.

“Alec, I don’t usually lay in bed with a man like this. I don’t usually kiss… well I don’t have any experience in this at all. And then the fact that you are my…” I didn’t want to say the word.

“Stop. Don’t say that. I’m not your uncle. You have to stop calling me that.” He sighed loudly and stared up at the ceiling. “But that still doesn’t make this right. We shouldn’t have kissed. We shouldn’t be here like this. This isn’t the way it should be. But we have to take this uncle thing off the table. It was cute when you were ten, but now… now it is just… well, I think it’s time to end it. Just Alec from now on.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know what the fuck got into me last night. I’m sorry, and I am going to make damn sure it never happens again. It shouldn’t have happened, and I take full responsibility. I’m not going to blame the wine or anything else. It was wrong, and it won’t happen again.”

I took a deep breath before speaking. I wanted to be honest with how I felt even if it meant upsetting Alec. “So if this isn’t the way it should be, then why are we lying here? Why did we have the most amazing kiss earlier? Why do I want… more? This is wrong, Alec. You and I both know it, but at the same time, I don’t care.”

Our lips were so close, that I silently begged for him to kiss me. I could have closed the distance, but I wanted it to be him. I wanted to know that he felt this too. That it wasn’t just the wine from last night. We weren’t drunk now. We weren’t out of our minds. I wanted him to kiss me because he wanted to. I wanted there to be no excuse other than he wanted to kiss me again.

As if reading my thoughts, Alec lowered his mouth to mine. He kissed with more passion, and more excitement than the night before. He rolled me over onto my back and pressed his body on top of me. His mouth continued to claim mine as I could feel his desire building. I gasped at the sudden change but pulled him closer.

“I can’t explain this. I can’t explain why I want you so bad, so quick. Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me no, and I will get up this second.” Alec paused from his onslaught of kisses to examine my face. “Call me a bastard and slap my face. Do something to stop this and I will.”

I smiled at the look of concern mixed with passion on his face. “Alec, I want this, too. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. All I do know is that I want to feel you inside of me.”

“Makayla,” Alec moaned.

He moved his mouth to my neck and started to place soft kisses while his hand slowly worked its way under my shirt. His palm cupped my breasts, and I arched my back to meet his touch. His lips moved to my ear, and he lightly nipped. I could hear his ragged breathing and feel his body tense with pent up passion.

I lowered my hand to his bulging erection pressing against his pants. When my fingers made contact, Alec moaned in desire.

“Jesus, Makayla! I want to be soft. I want to be gentle… but you are driving me crazy. I can’t give you the gentle love you deserve. I don’t know how to handle innocence.”

I undid his belt buckle, unbuttoned, and unzipped in one fluid motion. “I don’t want to be treated like a little girl who needs to be protected. I’m a woman with the same needs as yours. I want my first time to be with you. Take it,” I demanded, as I boldly wrapped my hand around his throbbing member.

A growl worked its way past Alec’s lips as he began to rip off my clothing in a fire of passion and fury. I met his crazed desire by stripping him bare as well. Within seconds, our bodies were nude and entangled together.

I glanced down at his penis and froze. I had never seen one before, and it must have been written all over my face because Alec stopped moving and studied me.

“You’ve never seen a cock before.” He wasn’t asking. He was stating, and I watched his face harden, and his eyes darken.

Shooting out of bed at rapid speed, Alec reached for his pants and quickly pulled them over his hips. “We have to stop. I can’t believe I am doing this.” He looked at me and ran his hands through his hair before reaching for his shirt. “I’m old enough to be your… fuck! Your fucking father! I can’t believe I even considered this. I considered taking your damn virginity! What kind of man am I?”

“Alec, I’m an adult and can make my own decisions. The last thing I want is to be a damn virgin. I can tell you that much. And why is it bad that I want my first time to be with you? Why are you freaking out? We are both consenting adults.”

Pulling his shirt over his head, he said, “Your father would fucking kill me. This is against everything that is right. I know better than this. I’m taking advantage of the situation. I can’t believe I kissed you again… and…” he looked at me naked in bed, his gaze lingering on my pussy and then my breasts before saying, “And I got us to this point. I’m taking advantage of you.”

“No, you are not! I wanted this just as much. Maybe more. You said it yourself. You are not my uncle. Why does this have to be wrong?”

“Because it is!” He took a deep breath. “It’s so wrong in so many ways.”

Before I could protest any further or even cover my nude body, Alec bolted out of my room, closing the door behind him, and leaving me alone with my thoughts and the throbbing between my legs.

Chapter Eight

Alec

Fuck Rhett to hell for doing this to me. Even taking away the emotional stress he was putting me through hoping he would somehow be able to pull himself from the mess he was in with The Iron Colt Brotherhood, the man had sentenced me to complete and utter torture.

I didn’t think even the strongest of monks who had sworn complete celibacy would be able to resist Makayla Knox. To say the woman was beautiful really wasn’t a strong enough description. Her big innocent eyes had a power over me every single time I looked into them. I wasn’t a man to just kiss a female. In fact, I wasn’t much of a kisser. I preferred to fuck and be done. Kissing was just fluff that I would do to get in a girl’s pants if I absolutely had to. But with Makayla, it was all I could do to not kiss the girl—repeatedly.

And I blamed Rhett.

So, if the asshole somehow came out of this in one piece, I was going to kick his ass.

How could he blame me for wanting to fuck his daughter? He had sent a goddamn siren to me and then locked me away, with her being my only companion.

What the fuck did he expect?

Control. He expected control.

But fuck that. I had none. None at all.

Sitting on the porch drinking coffee, I stared out onto the shimmering lake and watched a single boat floating in the distance. I loved this place. I loved every single thing about it… except for my current situation with Makayla. I had brought girls to the house before. It was a romantic setting and a sure way to have a getaway full of sex. Rhett and Minka used to tease me about always bringing a new girl, but never repeating. They would play nice with the girl of choice, but they said it was hard to commit any amount of energy getting to know the visiting woman because it was definitely going to be the last time they ever saw her.

The sound of running water through unused pipes told me that Makayla was in the shower. Hopefully, a cold one. I didn’t need her to come out and try to resume what I had somehow managed to walk away from. I’d walked away from sex. What sane man did such a thing?

Though what sane man even got in that situation to begin with?

For Christ’s sake, she was a kid. A virgin. Rhett’s daughter. Off limits.

Realizing I had to keep Makayla—and her delicious nude body—off my mind, I decided work was the best thing. Pulling out my phone, and happy that I had at least a little signal, I decided to call Kenneth and check in with Spiked Roses. I had left in such a hurry, that I wanted to put everyone’s mind at ease.

Kenneth answered the phone almost immediately. “Hey man. We were just talking about you. We’ve been worried. Hey, hold on a sec. I’m going to put you on speakerphone. We are all sitting around the table now and meeting. You can talk to us all at once.” I waited for the second it took for Kenneth to switch over, and heard him say in a far off voice. “So what’s going on?”

“It’s a fucking mess,” I began. “I got a letter from my old business partner and best friend asking for a favor that made me have to leave right away.”

I recognized Roman’s voice ask, “Was that Makayla Knox’s father? Is that why you had to take her too?”

“Yeah. Sorry guys. I hope that didn’t leave you short staffed, but I really had no other choice. My friend felt his daughter’s life was in danger and asked for my help in getting her to a safe spot.”

“Are you in danger?” I heard Harley Crow ask. “Do you need our help? I’m here for you if you need me.”

“I wish it were that simple. But there’s nothing any of you can do to help. Trust me, if I could think of a way, I would,” I said, still trying to rack my brain on ways these men could help. They were some of the most fucking powerful and connected men I knew, and if anyone could help, it would be them. Taking a deep breath, I decided to tell them more. I trusted these men more than anything. “It involves a secret society that I’m sure you have all heard of. The Iron Colt Brotherhood. My friend Rhett and I are members. Our fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers all have been.”

“Yeah, I’m a member, though not active,” Roman said, though it made complete sense since he was a prince. Royal blood ran thick and heavy in the brotherhood. “Does this have something to do with the ritual coming up?”

“What ritual?” I heard Matthew ask. “I haven’t heard of this group.”

“I have,” Lennon added. “Some sick shit happens at these rituals.”

“I’ll let Roman fill you all in on the brotherhood and the ritual since I don’t have a lot of time,” I said, looking into the house to see if she had come into the main room or kitchen yet. “I don’t want Makayla overhearing me talking to you all about it. But yes, it has to do with the ritual. Makayla’s name was drawn, and now Rhett, as any father would do, is refusing to give her up. So now, his life is on the line. But until this all plays out, he has asked that I stay at a lake house with Makayla to keep her away from all that and safe. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I just wanted you all to know what is going on.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do?” asked Roman. “I have some connections there and maybe can cash in some favors.”

“No. Please don’t. I don’t want your name going on a rock. And if I could think of a way to stop the plans for the ritual, I would. But I also know that this group and their activities have gone on for so long, that if there was a way to make a change, it would have happened by now. You can’t change something so thick in tradition and backed by so much wealth and power.”

“Well, I’m here if you need me,” Roman added. “I’ll attend the ritual if you need me to. Anything.”

“I appreciate that, Roman,” I sighed, “but I don’t want anyone else messed up in this shit.”

“Well, we have everything taken care of here at Spiked Roses,” Kenneth said. “Watch your back and keep us posted.”

I hung up the phone, then I checked some emails and touched base with a few other business associates. I had been doing a pretty damn good job keeping my mind off Makayla until she walked through the screened door onto the porch with a cup of steaming coffee in her hands.

“Working?” she asked as she walked over and sat down next to me in her favorite rocker.

I nodded. “Not much, but checking in.”

“Have you heard from my father?”

I looked at her to try to read her expression, though her blank stare at the lake as she sipped on her coffee gave me nothing. “No. Not yet.”

“Do you think we will?”

“Yes. He said he would, so I know he will.”

“But he’s fucked right? You feel he is?”

I sighed. “I know your father is a resourceful man. If there is a way out of the mess, then he’ll find it. We just have to give him the chance to do so. Knowing you are safe will keep his mind focused on what needs to happen.”

“So what are we going to do today?” Makayla still hadn’t really looked at me and seemed to be putting up a wall around herself. There was a level of distance present now that hadn’t been there before. Even though she was being nice… she was far away.

Good.

I took a long sip of my coffee and watched the picturesque scene before me, grateful that we weren’t discussing the awkward situation of both seeing each other naked and the fact that we’d been moments from fucking.

“Grocery shop, for one. Unless we want to live off of wine in the cellar,” I said, trying not to remember getting drunk and kissing her last night.

“Doesn’t sound like a bad diet,” she said, turning to me and giving me a smile, though not as warm and endearing as last night. Was she feeling the same level of regret I was for our transactions?

“I think I want to go for a swim first. Shake off the wine haze I feel from last night,” she said, standing and stretching her body. “Care to join me?”

“That water is fucking cold. Plus it’s not exactly warm out right now. Are you insane?”

She giggled. “You always were a fuddy duddy. Mama and I would always have to go into the lake without the big strong men. I remember once when we were walking down to the dock, I overheard Mama calling you both pussies under her breath.” Makayla glanced over her shoulder and winked at me. “I guess some things never change.”

Acting offended, I asked, “Are you calling me a pussy?”

“Simply stating a fact is all.”

“Well, I’ll show you who is and isn’t a pussy,” I said as I swiped off my shirt and headed toward the dock. “I’ll be in that frigid water before you and be able to stay in it longer. Then we’ll see who the real pussy is.”

“Oh the challenge is on,” Makayla shouted, sprinting toward the dock giggling as she shed her shirt, revealing a white lace bra.

I didn’t have time to observe or appreciate the way her breasts looked in such little material because I was too busy undressing as I ran toward the pier. Maybe it was Makayla, and it was most definitely the lake house, but I became a changed man when I was here. I felt a sense of freedom and acted like someone I didn’t recognize, a whimsical free spirit. Or at least I acted like someone I hadn’t been in a long time. Not since Minka’s death and never returning the lake.

I was the first to make it to the end of the dock, and hopping out of my jeans as quickly as I could since I could hear the pitter patter of Makayla’s feet running down the dock my way, I dove in without thought. Dove in without thinking about how unbelievably cold the water would be.

Completely submerged and sinking to the bottom, it took me several moments for my body to recuperate from the shock of it all. As I came to the surface, I looked up to find Makayla in her jeans and white bra looking down at me, laughing to the point of tears.

“How’s the water?” she asked between her laughs.

“Come in and find out for yourself,” I said, treading water and hoping my limbs wouldn’t freeze off.

“Oh hell no,” she said with a laugh. “I’m not that stupid. It’s cold!”

“What? You were the one who wanted to jump in!” I said as I watched her continue to laugh so hard she had to bend at the waist and rest her palms on her legs to catch her breath.

“And it worked! I tricked you into jumping in!” She continued to laugh. “I never had any intention of getting into the freezing lake.”

I suddenly felt the fool, but couldn’t help but laugh myself. “Oh, I’m going to get you for this!”

She shook her head. “There is nothing you can do to top this. You should have seen your face when you came out of the water.” Her laughter continued, and it was hard not to want to laugh along with her—it was damn near contagious.

“Yeah, well thanks to you, I may have frozen my balls off.” I swam to the ladder so I could get the fuck out of the lake. “Could you at least get my clothes ready so I don’t have to suffer once I get out?”

Makayla gathered my scattered clothes as she continued to giggle. When I reached the top of the dock, she held out my pants with those big blue eyes of hers batting her eyelashes innocently.

“I’m going to get you for this,” I said as I bolted for her, grabbed her into my arms, and picked her up.

She squealed. “No! Put me down. The water’s too cold.” She wiggled and fought me, but I had her fully at my mercy as I dangled her body over the edge of the dock.

“Time for you to see how cold the water is for yourself.”

“No! Please,” she said as she giggled and clung her arms around my neck. “I’ll do anything! Just don’t drop me.”

I froze, but still kept her over the ledge. “Anything?” I asked with a smirk as she looked up at me wide-eyed.

“Anything!”

“Dinner? You’ll cook dinner?”

She nodded. “Yes! Dishes too. Just don’t drop me.”

I gently placed her back down on her feet, and bent over to pick up my jeans she’d dropped in her struggles. “Well, in that case…”

As I stood, my eyes were captivated by her bare tummy leading up to her white bra. Though now that I had held her against my soaked body, her bra was just as wet as I was. I could see her pink nipples clearly through the fabric. My cock hardened and I couldn’t make myself look away. It took all my strength to look up into Makayla’s eyes to see that she watched me as I gazed upon her perfect pert tits and mouthwatering nipples.

Her eyes cast down to my hardened dick. There was no hiding my arousal since I stood there in nothing but wet boxers.

I should have put my pants on and walked back up to the house and tried to pretend like nothing just occurred. I should have done something. Anything. But not what I did.

I shouldn’t have done what I did.

I shouldn’t have looked into her passion-filled eyes.

Her lips.

And back down to her exposed breasts just begging to be sucked.

I shouldn’t have done anything, and yet… I did.

Scooping her up into my arms, I kissed her hard on the lips as I carried her over the dock and across the yard. Over and over, I danced my tongue with hers as I walked back to the house in blind lust. She clung to me and returned my kiss with just as much passion and desire as I was feeling.

I was done fighting this. I was done denying what would ultimately happen no matter how hard I tried to resist.

Wrong or right.

Taboo and fucked up.

Makayla was going to be mine.

Chapter Nine

Alec

This was going to happen. It was finally going to happen, and there was no turning back.

I wanted this.

I knew Makayla wanted this.

It was time I crossed the threshold to selling my soul to the devil. I couldn’t resist her any longer, and I couldn’t resist this pull. It was too strong.

I would beg for forgiveness afterwards, but for now…

For now, I would sin.

Our lips touched, a fleeting hint of what was yet to come. I pressed her close, then closer still, so that the soft curves of her body melded to the hardness of my sex. I kissed her again as her arms lifted to encircle my neck. Our kiss intensified, leaving our bodies tense for more.

Tossing her onto her bed where we had just recently come so close to fucking before, I was determined to finish what I had started. Without asking, not taking the time to woo, I removed each piece of her clothing effortlessly and with the skill of a very sexual man. I wasn’t going to take my time in this. I was not one for a slow seductive dance. I wanted her naked now, and, therefore, it would happen as fast as I could make that happen.

There was a small part of me that wanted to approach things slowly, to not let my desire be mastered by my passion. But when Makayla moaned against the thrust of my tongue and her hands frantically rubbed along my bare chest, I knew the battle was lost.

She was too innocent to truly understand the control she had over me. She had all the power with just the way she touched me, and she had no clue of just how much dominance she possessed.

The level of chemistry that had grown between us had become consuming, making me want her with an intensity that I’d never experienced with anyone else. I don’t know what it was. The lake? The house? The situation? All I knew was that when I watched her skin being revealed as I undressed her, my body almost exploded with lust.

She rubbed herself intimately against me, the action making my cock grow even harder. She knew how to use her body just as any experienced woman would… with even more skill, though she had no idea. I wanted to sink into her, to lose myself in her slick, wet heat, to drive us both hard and fast to orgasm. I couldn’t wait to hear her scream out my name.

It was what we both wanted — more importantly, what we both needed. But this time, I was determined to give her something different, to offer her something more than I had ever offered any woman before her. Not just a sexual experience, but a promise. I wanted to communicate security in the way we had sex. I wanted to make sure she felt safe in the fact that I was there. I was going to shelter her from any storm that came her way.

My cock had pressed against my frozen boxers to the point of pain. I couldn’t free myself from my restraints of the wet fabric fast enough. This woman… this goddess before me, literally made me grow weak in the knees. Such sweet delicate features, and also such luscious and alluring curves. I had to have her. I had to have her now, and I prayed to God that I could be gentle.

I ran my palm up Makayla’s leg, enjoying the fact that she didn’t flinch, but moaned in response to my touch. She lay on the bed completely naked, and didn’t try to conceal herself at all. Her eyes never left mine, as if she were attempting to hypnotize me… and it worked. I was captivated by this woman.

“I want to look at and touch every part of your body, Makayla. I want to memorize every curve, every dip and valley, and every inch of your skin.”

If I was going to hell, I was going to make damn sure every wicked moment of this was worth it.

Without waiting for a response, I spread her legs wide, watching the seam of her pussy open for me. Her tiny hole just begging to be entered, but I knew I needed to go slow.

Running my finger along each side of her delicate petals, I asked, “Has anyone ever touched you here before?” I knew the answer, but I still wanted it to come from her sweet, virginal lips.

She shook her head. “No, Papa would never allow it. I was never given the opportunity to be with anyone.”

Thank God for that. At least her past was good for something. It had protected what I so desperately wanted to claim as mine. Be somewhere no one else had ever been before. I wanted that cherry that hadn’t been tasted. I wanted to suck it, lick it, and fuck that fruit until all the juices were gone.

Everything was so fucking wrong.

This was Makayla.

My best friend’s daughter.

I should stop. I should beg for forgiveness.

I should not be here about to take her virginity.

“Then we need to get you ready. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Soaking up her juices with my fingertip, I coated the opening to her pussy nice and good. With as much care as I could, I pressed my wet finger past her opening and eased my way in. Makayla gasped and tensed, but then relaxed when I slowly began to move my finger in and out of her tight channel. I leaned down and kissed her thatch of little blonde curls, inhaling the musky scent of her desire.

“Relax, Makayla,” I coaxed as my finger glided in and out. “I need to get this sweet pussy of yours ready for me. I’m not a small man, and I don’t want this to hurt more than it already will.” When her legs relaxed back open and her hips thrust up to meet my mouth, silently begging for more of my kisses, I whispered, “I’m going to make you fucking love this.”

My name caught in her throat when a moan overpowered it as my tongue flicked her clit, nipping it between my lips. Her hands ran on both sides of my head, driving my face into her pussy as her moans intensified.

“Alec… Alec? This feeling. I feel…” Panic laced her words.

“Allow it to flow. It’s pleasure demanding to be let in. Open the door.”

Her head thrashed side to side, and her breathing became ragged. “I’m scared.”

“Come for me, Makayla. Fill my mouth with your sweet cream. Release.”

I wasn’t some virginal teen boy about to just shove my dick in her pussy and pop her cherry. No, I was an experienced man who would give her immense pleasure before I had to give her pain.

Her hips bucked as her moan turned into a tiny scream. Her pussy quivered around my mouth, and the taste of her nectar coated my tongue. I lapped up every last bit of her completion as her body shook on the tail end of her climax.

Not wanting her body to fully become sated, I moved up to her breasts and began to circle my tongue around one nipple, and then moved to pay the same attention to the other. Molding the flesh of her firm and perky mounds with my hands, I could no longer fight the hunger. I needed my cock buried deep inside of her and couldn’t wait any longer.

Stretching up, I placed my lips at the shell of her ear and whispered, “I’m going to put my cock inside of you now. It is going to hurt, baby, but I will try to make it as easy as possible.”

“Yes, yes, please,” she begged. “I want this. I do.”

Placing the head of my dick at her entrance, I slowly eased in, pausing when I felt the wall of resistance. I knew this was the time where I fully claimed her. Her virginity would belong to me, just as she would. I wouldn’t take this gift lightly.

“Take a deep breath and relax,” I ordered as I pushed firmly against the barrier and felt a slight ‘pop’ as Makayla cried out. “Shhh…” I cooed as I paused for a moment so she could adjust to my girth.

It was Makayla who began to thrust her hips up and down, demanding that I hold back no further. Taking her cue, I launched a steady rhythm of pushing in and out, while placing soft kisses along the curve of her neck. A steady staccato of my cock pulling out just enough to spread her opening, and then plummeting back inside, so deep I could feel where the inside of her tight little cunt ended, balls scraping along her outer lips. In and out, I fucked her. In and out, she gave herself to me in the most carnal of ways. Little Makayla had changed. She had grown. She was no longer a little girl. She was a woman… my woman.

Not being able to hold back my own pleasure any longer, I allowed the surge of my ecstasy to take over, spilling my seed deep within her.

“Alec,” she called out, the sound so sweet on her pouty lips.

The sound of my name from her mouth outweighed the power of my own orgasm.

Outweighed right from wrong.

Outweighed good from bad.

Outweighed all reason.

Chapter Ten

Makayla

“That smells good,” Alec complimented when he walked into the kitchen as I was cooking dinner. He came up behind me and kissed the side of my neck.

Like a boyfriend would do.

A couple.

Is that what we were now that we’d had sex?

My mind spun, but I didn’t want to show my naiveté by overthinking or over asking. I needed to just follow Alec’s lead on this. He knew what he was doing, and I didn’t. All I did know was that I had just lost my virginity in the best of ways. It was better than I could have imagined, and though I had never envisioned losing it to my Uncle Alec… Uncle Alec… it still felt right. Like in a weird way, this was all supposed to happen.

“Just some pasta,” I said. “I made garlic bread too.”

“Do you want me to open some wine to go with it?” he asked.

“More wine huh?” I asked with a smile.

“In moderation tonight,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, we don’t want you to have to jump into the lake first thing in the morning again, now do we?” I said with a giggle.

“I still haven’t gotten you back for that, little one. And trust me,” he said as he grabbed the hand towel hanging near the sink. “I plan to.” He then snapped the towel on my behind.

“Ouch!” I said as I jumped away. “That hurts, you ass.” I tried to play angry, but I couldn’t wash the smile off my face if I’d tried. “You can’t just spank me with a towel!”

“Oh you call that spanking? Trust me. If I were going to really spank you, you would know… and like it,” Alec said with a wink as he wound up the towel in his hand like he was going to swat me with it again.

“Like a spanking? Are you crazy?” I turned my attention back to the boiling pasta and stirred.

“Oh you would. I can tell these things. You have a hidden submissive nature. I see it. Not only would you like the spanking, you would beg for more.”

I turned around with my mouth wide open to find Alec leaning against the counter with a mischievous look on his face. “I do not. I wouldn’t like a spanking one bit.”

“Want to wager a jump in the lake on that?” he asked.

“You’ve lost your mind. There is no way I am going to allow you to spank me,” I said with my arms against my chest doing my damnedest to not smile.

“Even if it means me having to jump in the lake again?” he asked. “I spank you, and if you don’t like it and beg for more, then I jump in the lake. If you hate it like you say you will, then I jump in the lake. Sounds fair.”

“Except that I am the one getting spanked!” I said, no longer being able to hide the smile.

“Are you a pussy? As your mother liked to call it.”

“Fine! But you better get ready to freeze your balls off again,” I warned. “I’m going to win this bet.”

Alec reached around me and turned off the burners and then the oven.

“Dinner can wait,” he declared.

“You’ve lost your mind, and when this is over, you are going to lose your balls too by frostbite.”

Alec swept me off my feet with little effort.

I smiled at the gesture as he carried me toward his bedroom. I secured my arms around his neck, my breath catching.

“You know I’m perfectly capable of walking.” I laughed lightly. I nuzzled my head to his chest, listening to his heart pound beneath my ear.

“If I could carry you all the time, I would. I love having you this close.”

There was seduction, dripping with desire about the way Alec held me when he carried me into the room. Not rushed, not aggressive, but hungry enough for me to feel the need he exuded as I pressed against the heat of his chest. My body melted with his. I felt wanted, desired more than I had thought possible to feel.

I laid my hand on his chest, soft hair peeking from beneath his cotton shirt, plenty of solid muscle, and felt his heart beating against my palm. I lifted my head and kissed the crook of his neck, the smell of pine, smoke from the fireplace, and man taking over my senses. I wanted to keep now just as it was. The end of lonely, the end of seclusion from any affection. The promise of hope filled my saddened heart.

Once Alec carried me across the threshold of his room, he placed me gently down while flicking on the lights. Instant warmth filled my core as I looked around.

The red brick fireplace took up an entire wall in his room. A large couch, loveseat, and rocking chair were the furniture in the room beside the bed. An artistically braided rug covered much of the wood-planked floor. The walls were mostly undecorated, with the view from the large bay window acting as the only needed art. My mother had done such a wonderful job decorating this room in particular. The entire house was a delicious combination of comfort mixed with functionality, but this room also had an air of romance present.

Alec noticed me taking stock, and smiled. He walked over to the fireplace and started to build a fire. Once the flames were ablaze, he stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’ll go get us a bottle of wine to share after I give you your promised spanking.”

I giggled, but didn’t say anything as I watched him leave the room.

I stood in front of the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames as I waited for him to return. The sound of Alec placing down the bottle and glasses on the table snapped me back to reality. Looking over my shoulder, I welcomed him with a warm smile.

“Are you really going to spank me?” I asked with a giggle.

“A bet is a bet.”

“It is,” I admitted under hooded eyes. “But I didn’t think you were serious.”

Or did I? Did I want him to be serious? I really didn’t know.

“I’m always serious.”

“I’m learning this.”

He chuckled. What a jovial mood he was in considering what was about to happen.

“What else are you serious about?” I asked, realizing I was trying to stall the inevitable. Or maybe it was just my lame attempt at flirting. I wasn’t good at things like this, and wondered if I would ever be.

“You. And I’m tired of resisting this. Resisting you all the time,” he told me, taking my elbow in a firm, yet loving grip. “I’m done trying to be right, and feeling guilty for being wrong. Us being together sexually opened a door that I’m not going to close. At least, not while we are here at the lake. As long as we are under this roof… I’m not holding back when it comes to you. You are about to see the real me. All of me. I don’t care if it’s wrong.”

I sighed a little. “It doesn’t have to be wrong.”

I realized that out of nervousness of the promised spanking—teasing or not—I had backed up to the fire. My shoulder blades pressed against the warm wood of the fireplace mantle. With no escape, I gazed up at his striking features. The man had the power to hypnotize me with his powerful glare. Alec leaned in to press his palm against the wall behind me, capturing me with his piercing eyes, and the warmth of his body.

The fervor that every square inch of my body evoked blazed in his eyes, releasing the same heat as the flames burning in the fireplace behind me. Alec grasped my arm tighter and started to walk toward the bed.

I could barely breathe when he looked at me that way. My pulse quickened, my chest pounded, and my stomach tightened. The scent of his masculinity swirled around me, making my mind blur. I wanted so badly to reach out and press my palm against the rough texture of his face. I somehow knew exactly how it would feel against my fingertips. His demand melted the crux of my sexuality and made me hungry for more. I wanted to feel his hands over my entire body.

Alec’s hand on my arm was hot and searing, yet sent shivers dashing through me. I studied his confidence, his determination, and knew there was no turning back, but I didn’t care. I wanted this. I wanted him.

“Lower your pants and panties,” Alec instructed like the command was so ordinary. The simple and direct order sent an electric spark through me. He sat down on the chair and waited for my compliance.

I tried to step back from him, but he stopped me by reaching out with his hand and taking hold of my wrist. Even though I thought I desperately wanted this, there was a part of me that wanted to resist as well. I wanted his command, craved his dominance… maybe I wanted to test him just for fun.

“Makayla…” he warned. Meeting my eyes, he went on, “Take off your clothes and lay over my lap.”

“But… you just said to lower my pants.”

“That was before you decided to hesitate,” he said and tightened his grip on me. “I like my women submissive. I think we may need to work on that.”

His authority and demand melted me. A sensation, that I could only assume as submission, washed over me by his tone alone. Chewing on my bottom lip, I slowly did as he asked, removing each item of clothing under his watchful eye.

“I’ve never done anything like this,” I said softly as I lowered myself across his thighs. Turning my head to look at him, I added, “I’m afraid… no, not afraid… nervous.”

He nodded as his arm tightened around my naked body to hold me in position. Alec held me tighter and closer than I’d expected he would do. It seemed as if he never meant to let me go. Everything in my world felt right somehow. Comfort, security, love, and an intense sexual desire, racked my nerves. Lying over his hard-muscled thighs, all I could think was that I needed him buried within me.

The first swat to my behind jolted me. It hurt. This wasn’t sexy time at all!

“Ouch!” I wailed. “Okay, you made your point.”

I resisted against the hand that held me firmly in place. My teeth clenched as I attempted to twist and turn my way to freedom. He met each move with another searing swat.

What the fuck? I thought this would be a light pat that would lead to incredible sex. Foreplay. This stung! He said I would like this. No way. I was going to win this bet hands down.

Alec paused for a teasing minute and then continued on with the fiery cadence on my, what had to be reddening, behind.

I grabbed onto his ankles, squeezing with each spank. I gasped as his hand delivered another repetition of swats. “This isn’t what I thought it would be,” I blurted, hoping to stop the spanking.

His chuckle only blended with the sounds of the loud swats—palm against butt.

Though an electric connection seemed to arc between us with each spank. As insane as it was, surprisingly with some uncomfortable and searing time, I surrendered under Alec’s heavy hand. My mind blanked, and the sensations of my body took over. Submission surged through me as his hand peppered every spot of my upturned bottom. I dissolved into him, while closing my eyes and truly yielding to the delivered discipline.

And when, finally, he reached down to cradle my body close to his, I could only gasp for breath and whisper, “I need you. I need you now.”

* * *

Alec

Guiding Makayla onto the bed, my body nearly shook in anticipation as she lay down. I had wanted Makayla in my bed ever since we first made love and I claimed her virginity as mine, and my desire grew even more when she teased me about being spanked. It took everything I had not to just fuck her the minute I saw her naked again. My appetite couldn’t be satiated with this woman. But I wasn’t going to rush it and not give her the spanking that I had promised. I was a man of my word. Tonight, I didn’t want to just have sex with her. I wanted to make love to her. I didn’t just want to demand her submission; I wanted to earn it.

I let go of Makayla’s hand to light a candle on the nightstand. It gave just enough light along with the fire in the fireplace to cast us in a soft, romantic glow. When I turned to face her again, my heart skipped a beat. Makayla was pure perfection sprawled out naked on the bed. The spanking left her submissive, wanting, and ready. Her wide eyes were sultry as they watched me undress before her.

I towered over her, placing my palms on the mattress. “I love the way you look at me.”

Makayla arched her body, attempting to make contact with my chest. “And how am I looking at you?” she questioned, looking even deeper into my eyes.

“Like you belong to me.” I lowered my face to hers, nipping at her lips. “You’re mine in this house, Makayla. You will always be mine as long as we stay locked away in this safe house of ours,” I murmured against her mouth. “I shouldn’t say that. I shouldn’t do this. But fuck everything if it means you looking at me like that.”

My gaze locked on hers before I flipped her over onto her stomach. My hands rested on her hips as I compressed the full weight of my chest against her back. I pressed my lips to her ear and whispered, “I like seeing the pink on your ass.”

Makayla moaned softly and lifted her bottom to press against the hardness of my cock. “I love feeling you pressed against me.” Her voice was almost a purr.

“You were so beautiful lying over my knee as I spanked you,” I whispered, while one hand traveled to the silky smoothness of her sex. My fingertip pressed past the folds and dipped into her warmth.

“Oh, Alec,” Makayla cried as my finger gently prodded in and out of her wetness.

“I think you should be naughty more often so I can spank that perfect bottom of yours,” I growled into her ear. Her wetness intensified as she ground against my hand, urging me on.

“Yes,” she moaned, her muscles tensing as she neared the edge. “Yes… I want that. I want you to spank me again.”

I chuckled lightly. “Looks like you will be having a morning swim tomorrow.”

“I don’t care. Yes, anything. I just want you!”

“Come for me, Makayla. I want to feel you come against my hand.”

That was all it took. I held her body tight against me as she climaxed, absorbing the passionate spasms of her release.

With one fluid motion, I rolled her over and drove my hardness into her heated sex. Makayla’s head flew back as she cried out. Her fingers clutched desperately at my back. The sound of her pleasured cry triggered a desire to hear her moans over and over again. I could think of nothing else but rocking into her until her cries became a scream of ecstasy.

Makayla wrapped her legs around my back, pulling me deeper within. “I’m yours, Alec. I’ll always be yours,” she gasped before bringing her lips to mine. “Even if we leave this house.”

Not wanting to think about what leaving the house would mean, I thrust my tongue past her lips as I drove in and out of her heat. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of wave after wave of pleasure that washed over me. I groaned against her lips as my climax began to escalate.

I eased back and thrust into her again, drawing the desired scream to escape past our kiss. She arched against me, tilting her hips up, as I pressed deeper and harder.

When Makayla screamed out my name, her muscles pulsating around my cock, it was all I needed to pump my release deep within her. I allowed the sounds of her passion to push me over the edge.

Chapter Eleven

Alec

I gazed across the crystal clear expanse of the lake, and spotted Makayla easing into the water for her morning dip for losing the bet I had known she would lose. My lower body seized with a deep longing to have her again. Makayla’s long hair blanketed down her naked back, almost reaching her luscious backside. The delicate curve of her bottom, no longer pink from last night’s spanking, made me hungry for more.

I wanted her now.

I walked down to the edge of the water, and regardless of how cold it had been yesterday, I dove in. Taking a quick moment to adjust to the chill of the water, but grateful it wasn’t as cold as the day before, I swam with speed until I reached her.

Wrapping my arms around her body, I murmured against her wet neck, “I woke up and you were gone. Don’t leave me again.”

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And if I do?” she teased as she pressed her bottom to my hardness.

I slid my hands around her waist and pulled her tighter against me. She didn’t resist, but instead, positioned her body so that the cleft of her ass rested against my lengthening desire.

“I would have to punish you,” I said with a nip to her ear. “Again.”

Makayla released a soft moan, tilting her head back in sweet surrender. She pressed her bottom even closer, allowing the tip of my erection to slip between her plump cheeks and nudge against her tight rosebud. Not all the way, but enough to feel the tight heat of her taboo channel. I splayed my hands across her mound and toyed with her clit, swirling my fingertip in circles. I wanted to learn every inch of Makayla’s body, and master the skill of causing her body to hum.

“Then I’ll just have to accept my punishment like a good girl,” she replied, sighing contentedly.

With the tip of my penis still teasing her entrance, I growled in response.

I twirled Makayla to face me, my hands hugging the roundness of her behind. Inhaling deeply, intoxicated by her scent, I moaned.

I slipped a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to me. My lips met hers. They were warm and soft, wet from her morning swim. I couldn’t help pressing forward, driving my ready cock against her heat.

The kiss was much like the ones we had had, yet there was something different about it. There was a new hunger, a new want. When my arms slipped around her waist, my finger sliding into the crevice of her behind, there was no tension or tightening from her. Every inch closer my finger got to her puckered hole, her body seemed to soften against mine. With a hungry press of my fingertip into her tightness, her full submission was obvious. Makayla hungered for this, and I needed to make sure she never hungered again.

“Let’s go back to the house. I want you.” Pressing my finger deeper within her behind, I said, “I want you here.”

I pulled my finger out of her channel just enough to elicit a gasp from Makayla. “I want to be buried deep within your ass. So deep. Deeper than you can imagine.”

I finally pulled away, loving the fact that Makayla didn’t recover immediately. Her eyes were still closed, her breath rapid as she clutched my arms.

We made our way back to the house in a sex-crazed haze, almost as if our bodies were programmed in what exactly to do. I was so lost in my sexual thoughts, that it took me several moments to realize a car was coming down the drive. Makayla and I both froze for a moment but then grabbed our clothing and quickly began to pull them on. It could be Rhett, and he was going to shit bricks if he caught me naked with his daughter.

“Is it Papa?”

“If it is, you better hurry and finish dressing,” I warned, already mentally preparing for the war that was about to take place.

But I soon saw that my battle plan wasn’t needed when a young man as skinny as a willow branch got out of the car holding an envelope. I waved him down as he was walking toward the front door of the house.

“Over here, son. You can give that to me,” I said as I approached him wearing nothing but my jeans, my upper body still dripping wet from the lake.

The young man met me halfway and then his eyes cast over my shoulder to what I knew was Makayla still getting dressed. Part of me wanted to beat the boy senseless for sneaking a peek, but another part of me understood. How could you not look at something so gorgeous?

“Thank you,” I said, taking the letter. Luckily, my wallet was still in the back pocket of my jeans, so I pulled it out and handed the courier a fifty-dollar bill.

The boy took one more look at Makayla and then scurried back to his car, leaving me standing there half wet and terrified of what I would find in the delivery. I knew the letter was from Rhett. He was the only one who knew where we were.

I opened the envelope fearing what I would read. I knew the only good news would have come with Rhett driving down the drive to meet us here with that big goofy grin of his. A letter was not going to be good. I knew this. And without even looking up to see Makayla staring at me with those big wide eyes of hers, I knew she felt the same way.

“What does it say?” she asked softly.

I knew I had to read it first. I had to. My job was to protect Makayla, and I needed to know exactly how I would need to do that. Trying to read the letter first as quickly as I could, I could feel the impatience exuding from Makayla before me.

Alec,

If you are receiving this letter, then you did as I asked and took Makayla to our special spot. I thank you for that. Knowing she is safe is the only thing that is giving me comfort right now. I know in my heart that you will make sure she is forever protected. Especially since I can’t be there anymore to do so.

My refusal to give up Makayla will lead to my ultimate death. Yes, I have a chance at winning the roulette, but I’m not going to go into the ritual with that expectation. I’ve never been a lucky man. My chances aren’t good, and accepting this fact will help me get my affairs in order. Makayla is all I care about, and knowing you will handle it from here sets my mind at ease. My attorney will be contacting you in regards to the estate once my body is found. He will also have a letter I have written to Makayla to hopefully give her some sense of closure. All my wishes will be outlined, and I feel I have made everything as easy as possible to handle. I hope that you help guide Makayla in what needs to happen in regards to all that. She is a highly intelligent woman, but not skilled in the world of business yet. Teach her. School her. Make her become the most powerful woman with the tools I will leave behind. My estate will take care of her for the rest of her life if managed properly. I task you with this, my friend. You are the only one I trust in handling this.

I don’t want Makayla to know about the ritual at all. The brotherhood will cover up my death and make it look like something else as they always do. Please let Makayla believe whatever cause of death is portrayed on the surface. I don’t want her knowing anything about the brotherhood, the ritual, or the fact that a rock with her name on it was drawn. I don’t want these nightmares of my life to affect her any longer. Give her the ordinary life she so deserves.

This will be my last correspondence with you as the date of the ritual is coming soon. But as my final words, I want to tell you that I value our friendship now more than ever. I know you will follow my wishes. I go to my grave with fond memories of you, my wife, and my precious daughter all at the lake. As I pull the trigger in the game of roulette, I plan to close my eyes and only see that vision.

Forever friends,

Rhett

“Read it to me,” Makayla said, breaking me from my heartbreaking thoughts.

My friend. My dead friend.

No! No! No!

Even if I wanted to try to hide the awful news, the punch to the gut feeling and the way my ears rang made it impossible to keep a cool appearance. I knew this.

“Why aren’t you reading his letter to me?” Makayla asked, her voice rising to a level of hysteria. “I can see it upset you. What does it say? Tell me!”

I folded the letter and looked into her eyes. I wouldn’t be able to read this again and not puke. And she certainly couldn’t read this. If it were possible to die of a broken heart, this letter would surely murder Makayla.

Makayla lunged for the letter, but I was able to step back and pull it from her reach.

“Give it to me!” she demanded. “He’s my father. You have no right to keep it from me.”

“Makayla…” Still holding the letter back and out of reach, I shook my head. “I don’t want you reading this.”

She froze and stared at me. “Why?” The fear on her face made me want to scoop her up into my arms and hold her tight. “Is it bad?” Her question was so frail and fragile.

I nodded.

“Why? What does it say? Please, Alec. Don’t keep it from me.”

Knowing that Makayla wouldn’t give up, and maybe because deep down I agreed with her in that she did have the right to know, I slowly handed her the letter. I just prayed I wasn’t giving her the tools to her undoing.

I watched her shaky hands hold the letter as her eyes followed each word on the paper. The color faded from her face and her lip began to quiver. Makayla didn’t need to tell me she was done reading the letter, because her crumpling body falling to the ground told it all. Resting on her knees with the letter still in her hands, a howl more earth shattering than anything I had ever heard before filled the calm morning air. The morbid and anguished cry of Makayla stopped my heart as I watched this poor woman read the final words of her father’s death letter.

Falling to my knees in front of her, I pulled her screaming and sobbing body into my arms. “Oh, Makayla,” was all I could say. I had never felt so helpless in my life. As she screamed NO over and over again, I would have done anything to absorb the pain from her body.

She clung to my shirt with her balled fists and screamed, “No! This can’t be! Why would he be saying this? Why is he saying he’s going to die?” She pulled back and looked at me. “Fix this! Please. I beg you. Fix this!”

I just shook my head and looked down at the ground in shame.

She hit me hard in chest, and then again, and again. “Fix it! Fix it, god damnit! Do you hear me? Fix it!”

“I can’t.” I hated myself for saying those words.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. There has to be something.” Her screams turned into full on sobs—so deep that her entire body shook as she did so. “Please, Uncle Alec. Save my papa. My papa…”

And just like that, the beautiful woman from this morning became the little girl of my past.

But this time, the little girl was broken. Shattered. Afraid. And in need of someone to take it all away.

I was not that man.

I couldn’t be that man.

I would do anything if I fucking could. But I was not the man she needed in her hopeful fairytale dream that a knight in shining armor would swoop in and save her father from the ugly dragon threatening to end it all with one puff of the fire.

We were not in a fairytale, and I was not the hero.

Rocking her back and forth on the dirt-covered ground was all I could do, and eventually her devastating sobs subsided. It gave me hope that maybe Makayla wouldn’t die in my arms from the enormity of her pain.

Standing up, she looked down at me with a new look of determination in her eyes. “Tell me about this ritual. What is Papa talking about when he says roulette and my name on the stone? I want to know everything. You are going to tell me all about it.”

I stood and brushed the dirt off my pants, preparing to tell her everything she asked. It was the least I could do.

“What is Papa talking about in this letter? Why does he think he’s going to die?”

“Why don’t we go sit on the porch,” I said as I placed my hand on her lower back. “It’s a long story.”

Makayla didn’t resist, but allowed me to guide her in silence to the two rocking chairs overlooking the lake.

“You know about The Iron Colt Brotherhood,” I began. “Every year they hold a ritual. This ritual has been occurring since long before the war was fought to end slavery. It’s an archaic ritual that many members hate, but have no choice but to be part of. Every year, rocks are drawn with people’s names on it. Females are drawn for the first part of the ritual, and six men’s names are drawn for the final part of the ritual—the roulette part. Your name was drawn to be part of the ritual, and clearly, your father is refusing for that to happen. Because of that, he is automatically part of the ritual himself. The Russian roulette part of the ritual. He will have a one in six chance at survival. He and five other men will be sitting around a table, have to place the gun at their temple, and pull the trigger. There is only one bullet in the revolver, and one man will definitely die. Rhett’s only hope is that the bullet goes into someone else’s head rather than his own.”

“Why was my name drawn? I never put my name on a rock or asked a favor of the brotherhood.” I was surprised to hear Makayla ask the question so calmly.

I sighed deeply. “Your father was desperate when your mother got sick. He was determined to save her. To beat the cancer even though the doctors said there was no hope. He wanted access to the best specialists and to have her participate in all the medical trials. To get these favors, he put his name on a lot of stones that were placed in the urn. He didn’t care how much he was at risk of having his rock drawn for the ritual. Eventually the brotherhood had felt that he maxed out his favors and entries into the urn. So, feeling desperate to save your mother, he put your name on the rocks too. He would have done anything to save Minka. And he had told me that if by some chance your name came up, he would refuse and face the consequences then. He would never allow you to be part of the ritual.”

“So, was my name drawn to play Russian roulette?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. The first part of the ritual is where the women are used. Each woman is treated like an animal, a sex slave to be purchased by one of the members of the brotherhood to be theirs for the ritual in whichever way they choose. The women have no choice but to be violated, abused and treated like a plantation owner in the days long gone would treat a slave… but far worse.”

“Jesus. Why? Why would any of you want to be part of this?”

“It’s sick. It’s why I chose to leave it all behind a long time ago. The ritual is supposed to be symbolic of a society that thrived for decades. To demonstrate power, control, dark desires, and show that there is a price to pay for it all.” I paused, hating the way she was looking at me. “You have to remember that both your father and I were born into this. It’s hard to walk away from a heritage and tradition that has always been. Blue blood connections are almost impossible to break. It doesn’t make it right, but it was just the reality that your father and I were part of our entire lives.”

Accepting my answer with a slight nod, Makayla asked, “So, that’s why my father was so overprotective of me? He was worried I would be pulled into the ritual.”

“I’ve seen the ritual,” I confessed. “I would fear that as well. I can’t imagine you being part of it.”

“But my name was drawn when I left for New Orleans and that is why my father sent us here. Right?”

I nodded. “It seems so.”

“And because my father refused, they are forcing him to do the Russian roulette?”

I nodded again. “He’s sacrificing himself. It’s one of the rules of the ritual. Someone can sacrifice to save someone else. It’s rarely done, but it can be.”

“Where does this ritual take place?”

“Do you remember the Myers’ mansion?”

“That old plantation?” Her eyes grew wide. “I’ve been there so many times as a kid. We would go there for BBQs and parties. The Myers are part of this? This can’t be true. They were such nice people.”

“I can bet everyone you have ever known is part of The Iron Colt Brotherhood. Like I said, every powerful man in Georgia and the south is connected to it or knows about it and covets a spot. Not everyone involved is bad. Like I said, the pull by bloodline alone is what makes breaking away almost impossible. And if you want to be a rich man and succeed in any form of business, then you can’t just walk away. The brotherhood can make or break you.”

“This can’t be allowed!” Makayla shouted, standing from the chair. “I’ll call the police. They’ll stop it. I won’t let my father risk dying because of some fucked up old ritual done by power hungry crazed men.”

I sighed heavily, frustrated by the naivety of her statement. “Do you really think the police aren’t aware and paid handsomely by the brotherhood? There is no part of Georgia The Iron Colt Brotherhood does not control.”

Makayla collapsed back in the rocker in defeat and sat there in silence for several moments before asking, “So, do the women die? In the first part of the ritual that Papa is protecting me from, do I have a chance of dying?”

“No. Though I’m sure some wish for death during it.”

“But I wouldn’t die?”

“No…” I narrowed my eyes on her, pretty sure where she was going with this. “Makayla, your father refused. He already made up his mind and put his name in your place. So if you are thinking—”

“That it would be better for me to do it than him,” Makayla interrupted. “At least no one would die that way.”

I could see she was getting agitated and worked up again, and I needed to try to diffuse her belief that she could swoop in and save the day. She didn’t understand the way the brotherhood worked, and as much as I wanted to fix this in any way I could, I just couldn’t think of a way.

“Do you know when the ritual is?” she asked.

“Yes, in two days.” I reached out for her hand and squeezed. “Makayla, I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But all we can do is sit here and hope for the best. There is still a chance your father could walk away from the roulette. Some other poor bastard could be the dead man. Not him.”

She didn’t answer me, but turned her head to stare out at the lake. I took her silence as a sign that, though she didn’t like the situation anymore than I did, she realized we had to just pray Rhett walked away with his life.

“I’m going to go get us something to drink. I think we could both use it.”

Very softly, she asked, “Will you go down to the wine cellar and get a good bottle?”

“Of course,” I said as I stood and bent over to kiss her on the top of her head. “All is not lost yet.”

“You’re right,” she agreed with a weak smile. “All is not lost yet.”

Chapter Twelve

Makayla

It was fair to say that I hadn’t made the wisest choice by deciding to steal Alec’s car while he was in the wine cellar. It also wasn’t smart to drive all day to attempt to find the Myers’ mansion only to wind up driving some desolate backwoods road in the middle of a rainstorm—at the beginning of the night. I fancied myself a wise woman in regards to books and academia but not full of street smarts, and definitely not self-reliant. My father had made sure of that by keeping me locked away from anything he considered a risk… which was everything.

Alec would be furious when he came back upstairs to find me gone, and I knew he would be quick to follow me. But the time it would take for him to find a new car would buy me some time, and I did have a head start. I had to do something. No way would I just sit at the lake house and hope for the best. Not when I could sacrifice myself instead of my father. I could, and I would.

Alec’s car’s windshield wipers barely kept up with clearing the massive amount of water sluicing across the foggy glass. I fiddled with the knob, hoping to speed up the back and forth motion to no avail. It was almost impossible to see the road without even a sliver of light in the cloudy night’s sky.

Where the hell was I? All I could see was a few feet ahead of me of a road that seemed to lead to nowhere. This was a recipe for a perfect horror story. Though my life had become one big horror story as it was. I had no phone signal, the GPS on my phone decided to stop working, the storm raged around me, and I just continued to drive into the woods of nowhere. I knew the plantation house was near, but enough time had passed by since I last visited with my father for the annual fourth of July celebration that was always hosted there, that I couldn’t one hundred percent remember my way in the backwoods of Georgia without some guidance. I remembered the plantation from when I was little pretty well. My father and mother had taken me to the house for large parties and BBQs. I remembered attending a couple of weddings there as well. But then it all stopped, and I had never thought to ask why.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something white sprint out onto the road and hit the right tire, or fender, or some part of the car. The slight bump, and then a crunching sound under the tire made it very clear that I had killed something. A rabbit? A raccoon? A deer—no not a deer—I would be dead by now if that was the case.

I kept driving. It wasn’t like I had hit the creature. It had hit me… right? And besides, the crunching noise under the car made it very clear that whatever hit me was definitely road kill. And even if I did pull over, I had no signal to call for help, and I hadn’t seen a car in at least an hour, if not longer. I needed to get to my father before it was too late, and the longer I drove, the more I panicked. What if I was too late? What if I never found the plantation house?

After a few more moments mourning the creature I hadn’t even really seen before it became road kill, I realized I could barely make out the lines on the road. The rain came down harder, and harder, and even harder if that was even possible. I had no choice but to pull over to the side of the road. Driving in these conditions was insane, no matter if my father’s life was at risk or not. When the car stopped, I pulled my shaking hands off the wheel and ran them through my hair, taking deep breaths to calm my panicky nerves.

I had to be close. Some things I seemed to recognize, but it was too hard to tell for sure. Taking a moment to look around, I could barely make out the trees in very thick woods all around. I couldn’t just wait out this storm in the middle of nowhere. My father’s life was on the line, and even though I knew deep down I could be too late, and there was maybe nothing I could do, I had to try. I wasn’t going to just sit in the lake house, pretending to be on vacation while my father was about to be killed, as he and Alec wanted me to do. I put the car back into drive and headed out. I knew I was close to the mansion and would eventually recognize a street or landmark for sure if I just kept going. It became my chant.

Keep going. Save Papa.

Keep going. Save Papa.

Mile after mile, I drove. The road seemed to go on with no end in sight. On and on I drove in pitch-blackness and torrential rain, praying that a deer wouldn’t jump out and total Alec’s car.

Pulling over to the side of the road again, I grabbed my phone and hopped out of the car, grateful that the rain had paused long enough so that I could stand outside without getting drenched. Holding the phone in the air, I watched the screen for any sign of a signal as I walked around. I knew I had to be close. I just needed to get the name of the street. Anything.

“Look what we got here,” a voice cut through the air from behind me. I spun around to see a car parked in the shadows off the road just as two strong arms grabbed me and wrestled me to the ground. How could I not have seen the car before? “It’s her. I recognize her face from the picture. Her daddy thought she wouldn’t come. Funny how we knew otherwise.”

“At least we don’t have to sit here in the rain waiting for her to come anymore,” the second man added as they dragged me back toward their car. “This was the second day in a row we had to sit here, if I had to do it another day, I would lose my fucking mind.”

A small sticker on the trunk of the vehicle of my captors told me that I had indeed found the plantation house—or that the house had found me. A decorative insignia with the lettering The Iron Colt Brotherhood written underneath was the last thing I saw before they had my hands tied together, and I was thrown into the back of the car.

Fighting against the restraints, I closed my eyes as I took deep breaths.

Calm.

Remain calm.

Clearly, they knew who I was. Who my father was.

A few minutes passed before the car came to a stop. I looked out the window at the large mansion that I remembered from my youth and prepared myself for what was to come. I had no idea how, but I knew I had to stay calm and collected. Fear would only lead to mistakes. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. My papa wasn’t here to tuck me in at night and tell me all my nightmares would go away.

No, my father could be dead.

Maybe I would soon join him.

The back door opened, and when the fresh air hit my face, it gave me a renewed strength. As the men yanked me out of the car, I gave it my all. Gyrating my body, screaming, biting, and scratching, I would do whatever I could to leave my mark on these men. I would make damn sure their DNA was all over me if in fact they decided to kill me. I was forced onto my back and straddled by one of my captors. A punch to the face finally stunned me into submission, and I had no choice but to succumb to whatever these men had in store for me as they pulled my stunned body back to standing.

I struggled against the bonds that were around my wrists. The two men shoved me forward, causing me to stumble on the rocky path leading up to a large plantation house that I remembered from my childhood. I looked around, remembering that at one time this estate had provided wonderful memories. No way would I have known then that I would be standing here kidnapped and tied, fearing for my life and the life of my father.

“Walk,” one of the men ordered, breaking me from my observations with a kick to my calf. “Don’t make me kick you the entire way.” He led me up the stairs to the porch and into the house.

Several men came out from the rooms that lead to the large expansive foyer as I was kicked and shoved to the center area. All of the men were dressed in expensive suits, designer ties, and carried an aura of extreme wealth.

“Please!” I called out. Hopefully, one of the now ten or so men gathering around would take pity on me. They couldn’t all be heartless bad guys, could they?

“What treat have you brought us today?” a voice called out from my right. All heads turned to a man walking toward me. He approached until he stood inches from my face, so close that I could smell his thick cologne.

I refused to look him in the eye as he stood before me, raking his eyes up and down my body as if attempting to see through my clothing. Maybe if I didn’t look at him, he would somehow let me go.

“Where did you find her?”

“By the entrance. She had been driving around on our land for a while. We think she was lost, but definitely searching for us.”

I hated showing fear, but hiding the fact that I was terrified was impossible. My body shook, and my knees threatened to collapse at any minute. Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to cry. The man stopped examining my body to look around.

He stared directly in my eyes and asked, “Makayla right?”

“I want my father. Now!” I spat.

He answered my demand with a venom-laced smile, and said, “Take sweet Makayla and lock her up with the others. We knew Daddy’s Girl would come. It was just a matter of time.” Several men laughed as they all turned and went back to whatever they were doing before my arrival.

I was led to a room that had once served as either a billiards room or a large library, but I couldn’t remember. Everything about the inside of this house had changed from what I remembered as a child. It was now dark, haunting, evil even. This wasn’t the house it once was. The windows had bars on them and the one door of the entrance to where I was being led had several locks, as well as a man with an antique rifle sitting on a chair in front of it. The guard pulled out a ring of keys and began unlocking the door. Moments later, a near punch to the back shoved me into a dark room. It took my eyes several minutes to adjust to the darkness to make out what was around me. Huddled against the wall were five women, naked and chained like animals.

“Take your clothes off,” the man who led me ordered. He unfastened my hands, tossing the binds to the floor.

“I will not!” I screamed in retort.

The man reached for his belt and pulled it free from the loops. He doubled it over in his palm. “I’ll beat you until you do.” The look in his eye, and the way he tested the belt by hitting it against his hand, told me he meant business.

I had to be smart about this. Fighting wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I had to play along the best I could and do what they asked. Something in my gut told me that resistance would only give these men a reason to break me… and they would, and most likely enjoy every minute. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my t-shirt above my head.

“Thata girl. Keep it coming, and I won’t have to whip that fine ass of yours.”

I removed the rest of my clothes, trying not to pay attention to the man who looked as if he may very well cum in his pants just by watching me do so. I also didn’t look at the women in the corner, as if looking at the other kidnap victims made this nightmare all the more real. It wasn’t until he placed a heavy metal collar around my neck that I looked up from the ground. The man hooked a long chain to the collar, dragged me over to the other women, and secured the chain to a hook screwed into the floor.

He then walked over to my clothes and picked them up, bringing my panties to his nose and taking a deep breath. “Mmm… a sweet one.”

I wanted to attack and gouge the bastard’s eyes out, but the thick metal around my neck reminded me harshly that my mobility had been greatly compromised.

“You ladies tell our new guest all the rules. If she gets a beating for breaking them, you all get a beating,” the man declared before turning around and leaving.

I fingered the collar, staring at the women who had all remained silent the entire time the man was in the room.

“Where are we?” I asked. “Who are these people?”

“Shh! Don’t talk so loud,” one of the girls whispered. “If we get too loud, the guard will come in and do whatever his evil mind is in the mood for.”

“What do they want with us?” I asked, in a whisper this time. “Why are we chained naked to the floor?” If they planned on raping and killing me, why hadn’t they done so by now? Why were these women and I being held captive like slaves?

“For the ritual,” was the simple answer from a tinier girl with her knees pulled up to her chin. She had bruises along her thighs, and I could see fingerprint marks on her upper arms. The busted lip she had still didn’t take away from her beauty, however.

“Ritual?” I asked, taking in each of the women slowly.

“Yes.”

“Were you all kidnapped?” I asked, loud enough that several of the girls hushed me again.

They all nodded. “In a way. Like you. We knew this would eventually happen. Our names were all drawn like yours was.”

My head spun trying to make sense of and to absorb what was being said. I was thinking back to what Alec had said about the women used for the ritual being treated like animals. Sex slaves to be purchased by a member of the brotherhood. “Is this where we wait to be bought?” I asked.

“We think so. We don’t know. We have all been told slightly different variations of what happens at these rituals,” one girl said sitting to the side of me.

“This is crazy. We can’t just sit here like this and allow this,” I said.

“If I were you—” the tiny, bruised girl spoke again, “—I would focus on trying to just survive this without harm. Trust me. There is no point in trying to resist. It will all be over soon enough. My daddy told me that once this was over, all our family’s financial woes would be over. That he would get the funding he needed for his business and this nightmare would be over. We are all here for reasons like this, and fighting the inevitable is just going to make it worse.”

The other girls nodded in agreement.

I didn’t know what to say. I fingered the collar around my neck, hating how tight it felt each time I swallowed. I scanned the dark room for any signs of escape. The only bright light came from small slits in the window, but it was enough that I could see there was only one way in, and one way out. Each window had metal bars running vertically. We were in a prison—chained by the neck in a dark, dank room waiting for this ritual.

“What if you refuse?” Even though I asked the question, I already knew the answer.

The women shook their heads, sighed, one even gave an evil chuckle. “There is no refusal,” one said sadly. “Not at this stage in the process.”

“And whatever you do,” one woman added, “don’t do anything to insult the men in front of the others. I heard they take those women outside and put a bullet in their heads.”

Chills ran over my body, and I fought the urge to vomit. Why had I left Alec? He had warned me. He had told me I didn’t want to be involved. Where was my father? What the hell was going on?

“Is there really no way out?” I asked in defeat.

“Death,” was the blunt reply.

I sat in silence and closed my eyes. Maybe when I opened them, I would find this all to be an awful dream. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. There weren’t large secret groups of people who could be so evil. This wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t…

Who were these women? How long had they been here?

“There has got to be a way out,” I said, more to myself than them. I just couldn’t accept this fact as easily as they all did.

“There isn’t. This plantation is buried deep in the Georgian woods. Even if you somehow got in the woods, they’d find you before you could find your way out.”

“But all these people. They can’t all be bad. Surely there are some who will help us.”

“No. It’s the way it has always been for centuries. We don’t have the power to stop tradition.”

“Tradition?” I asked as I tested the chain and the collar around my neck to see if there was any chance of unlocking myself.

Another girl who had remained silent up until now spoke up. “My daddy, my granddaddy, my great granddaddy. This goes back so far in my family tree. All of our family trees. The ritual happens every year, and this is part of it. The women.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“So we have no hope? Is that what you are all saying?” I looked at each one of the women who not only were physically abused, but were emotionally beaten. “We just sit here chained to the floor in a dark room waiting for this ritual? Have you all accepted that as your fate?”

None of the women said a word this time, but their silence was answer enough.

The silence didn’t last long, however, because three men walked in with a tray of small paper cups of what I assumed was water and a bottle of pills. They worked together to distribute the water to each female followed by a pill.

“Take your night meds like good little girls. You’ll need it to make this night not last forever while you await the ritual. Sweet dreams.” The man’s words were laced with such pure evil.

Each man left without saying another word. The only sound left was that of crying and whimpering women fearing for what was to come. It took me several moments to realize that some of the sounds of the room were my own cries as well.

I placed the pill on my tongue like all the others did, but decided it best not to take it. Maybe drugging myself so I could sleep through this nightmare would be a good idea, but I wanted my wits about me too. I knew there was no escape on my own since I was chained to the floor, but I needed to be alert and ready for when a window of chance opened up… if it ever opened up. My life was in my own hands. My father’s life as well.

Pulling my knees up to my chin, I allowed a moment of self-pity to set in and missed the safety of the lake house. The comfort of Alec’s arms around me.

Alec…

Maybe Alec would come.

Maybe Alec would save me if I couldn’t save myself.

Self-pity turned to hope. Dark-laced hope, but at least it was hope.

Chapter Thirteen

Makayla

I heard them enter the room and could see that all the women were still in their drug-induced slumber. I needed to play along that I too had taken the pills. I had no idea what any act of defiance would warrant me, and I was terrified to find out.

Closing my eyes, I tried to deepen my breathing as if I were truly sleeping. They would know I wasn’t really asleep if I didn’t calm down.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

“Some of them are stirring,” one man said. “Hurry up and carry them to the shower room before we have them waking up, panicking, and then trying to flee out of here. I’m not in the mood for a run.”

The shift of bodies told me that the other men were following the command. Focusing on my breathing, I struggled not to flinch when they unlocked my chain and my naked body was pulled harshly from the ground and flung over someone’s shoulder. I remained as limp and still as I could, even though every step the man took had his bony shoulder jabbing into my stomach. If I hadn’t had an empty stomach, I would have surely thrown up with the amount of pressure being applied to my empty gut. Resisting the urge to peek and look around, I tried to focus on the noises around me instead. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the man’s heavy steps carrying me, and the voices of several men all around, each mumbling about the weight of the woman they carried.

My body was soon tossed to the hard, cold ground. I managed to not cry out in pain as my torso hit the floor with enough force to knock the wind out of me. My head hit the back of a wall hard enough for my ears to ring. The sound of groans and whimpers of the women all around me was my cue that I, too, could stir awake. Keeping my ruse up, I also slowly opened my eyes with tiny moans and an added whimper or two for effect.

Looking around, I could see that all of the captured women were cast around in one big room, with no windows and tiles from floor to ceiling. The stark white color made the room appear almost metallic in nature. Shower heads were lined up along all four walls, and there were several metal drains scattered around the floor. We had been delivered to the shower room, and although I fought back the madness of being more terrified than I had ever been in my entire life, the thought of taking a shower and having actual running water on my body delighted me. I truly felt like a dirty, grimy, prisoner having spent the night chained to the dusty ground, naked, with other dirty women.

“Rise and shine, slaves,” a man shouted, his voice echoing off the tiles.

Every female had their eyes already opened or very near, and their obvious horror of the situation mirrored mine.

“Get up and clean yourselves,” he ordered, taking a few steps back toward the entrance. He then flipped a red switch on his right, and water came rushing out of all the shower heads.

When the freezing water hit all the naked women, some squealed, some cried, but others stood as I did, and we began washing the grime off our bodies. The temperature didn’t bother me, especially if it meant getting clean. Not being sure if I would get in trouble or not, I decided to risk it and opened my mouth, quenching my parched throat. The refreshing liquid tasted metallic as it clearly came from old plantation pipes, but regardless, I swallowed large gulps as the spray rained down on my face.

“Be sure to clean those dirty cunts and the crack between your ass cheeks. Relieve yourselves here too. We aren’t stopping at the ladies’ room for you all.” The man’s crude comment had the more frightened women whimpering even more than they already were. But again, I didn’t care. I’m not sure why the words didn’t bother me, but they simply did not. The day I left the lake house and surrendered myself, I knew that I was accepting darkness to take over. I had accepted that truth, and the man’s harsh words would only be the beginning. I had moments of panic last night as I thought of ways of escaping, but then escaping the ritual meant my trip here to the plantation was for nothing. I had come with a purpose, and I’d come to terms with that as all the women slept around me.

Noticing that others were using bars of soap, lathering the suds over their bodies, I glanced around until I found a bar of my own on a nearby ledge. Reaching out for the soap and rubbing it over my skin, with water cascading all around me, I actually possessed a feeling of acceptance of my situation. It was almost as if I could feel my father. He was near, and I was coming. No matter what I had to do to get to him. Even if it meant standing in a room with other captured slaves, showering beneath freezing water, under the eyes of a complete stranger.

When the showers were abruptly shut off, we stood with arms wrapped around our shivering bodies, staring at the man, waiting for him to tell us what was next. Water droplets hung from my hair, and goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, but I still didn’t care. I was ready to face this head on. Some cried, others pleaded, yet I did nothing more than hold my head high and wait. Maybe it was that I knew a little of what was coming due to Alec’s awful story, and the unknown didn’t haunt me as badly as it did the other women.

“Get on your knees,” the man ordered as he opened the door and signaled for the rest of the men outside to enter. Their black shoes splashing on the puddled floor was all I could see as I did what was asked with no hesitation. Other women did not act on command as fast, or at all, and were rewarded with slaps to the face, or pulling of hair as they were forced to kneel before each approaching man.

“You better get used to it, slaves. From this moment on, you do exactly as you are commanded. The consequences will be severe if you do not. We take preparation for the ritual very seriously here in the Iron Colt Brotherhood.”

The sound of metal and chain came before a heavy collar was clasped around my neck, hooked to a silver chain. I glanced up to see a man with a devilish smirk staring down at me, holding my leash as if I were an animal.

“Get used to it, slaves. You are all our little pets. Whatever pride you have right now, you better get rid of it quick.” As he turned, he motioned for all the men to lead their ‘pets’ by their leashes. The few women who tried to stand were shoved back to the ground with a kick to the ribs or a slap to the ass.

Trying not to pay attention to the cries of others, I crawled on my hands and knees as fast as I could so the collar wouldn’t choke me. My appointed man paid little attention to my struggles at keeping up. My knees kept slipping from underneath me on the wet tile, and a few times I fell, hitting my face on the ground, but not once did the man slow. It only got worse when we crossed the threshold of a courtyard and my hands and knees made contact with the rough brick. Tiny pebbles dug into my palms and ripped my knees to shreds with every movement I made. I wasn’t given the time to tenderly or carefully maneuver my way, and was all but dragged by the tug of my leash if I slowed in the slightest. The bright sun had me squinting my eyes, but the rays of light did little to warm the chill in the air. It wasn’t exactly cold outside, but my hair still dripped down my back and my flesh was still damp, making the slight breeze bitterly cold. There were men in suits all around, and I was embarrassed at being in such a humiliating position, but they didn’t seem to care or notice that six naked women were crawling all around them. Was this the norm for their lives? It was as if we were just the backdrop to their every day routine. I tried to discreetly scan each of them to see if my father was one of the men present, but didn’t see him. Dirt blackened beneath my nails again, my hands covered in dirt and blood. I mourned my moment of cleanliness for however short it had been and wondered what the point in showering really was if they’d intended to do this all along. I guess our pussies were clean. Maybe that was all they cared about.

We reached some stairs leading back into the mansion. The man holding my leash paused, and for a moment, I hoped he would grant me the mercy to stand and at least walk up the stairs.

He did not.

Yanking hard, he climbed the steps, dragging me behind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t crawl up the stairs quickly; the awkward position of my body doing so, spread my legs apart. I knew all of my privates were on full and vulgar display to all the men in their pressed wool blazers and silk ties. But there was nothing I could do as I gagged and wheezed for breath as the metal of the collar cut into the skin of my neck.

“Move it!” my assigned man snapped.

But what could I do? The coordination to crawl up the steps did not come to me fast enough. I cried out, but no sound came from my strangled throat. Tears ran down my face, and all I could see were the blurry shoes of my tormentor before me. Would I die like this? Would my death be caused by crawling up the stairs? It was certainly not the most glamorous way to meet my maker.

The holder of my leash, growing frustrated by my lack of speed, reached down and yanked me by the hair. The biting sting at my roots was welcome because it meant that I had a moment to gasp a large, life-saving breath, refilling my deprived lungs. Tossing me to the landing at the top of the stairs, he once again reached for my leash and led me the rest of the way into the house. I crawled as fast as I could, wanting to please him since, in a sick way, I felt I owed him a renewed obedience. He had shown me mercy by pulling me up the steps—by my hair, rather than the metal and chain—the rest of the way.

We stopped in a large empty room—a ballroom. Each woman remained kneeling, but we were all in a single file line facing the back of the room. The men dropped our leashes, all walked to the side of the room, and stood against the wall. I glanced in both directions with my eyes, but trying to keep my head down, not moving an inch. I didn’t want to stand out or have anyone notice me. The woman to my right silently sobbed, while the woman to my left shifted her hands and knees, smearing blood on the white marble floor beneath her.

We waited. For what, I wasn’t sure.

My knees ached and my palms throbbed, but I refused to break position, as did the rest of the lined up women. We remained in position for ten minutes, twenty, thirty… I couldn’t be sure. But with each passing minute, my body screamed in agony, desperate to move and relieve at least some of the pain.

Finally, the heavy sound of shoes walking across the marble floor, then several others following, announced others were joining us in the room.

“You all may sit back and rest on your feet. Place your palms on your thighs and spread your legs wide,” came a deep and powerful voice as he walked in front of us, standing with his arms crossed.

I almost moaned in relief when I was able to relieve the pressure on my battered hands and knees. Fighting back dizziness, I did as the man commanded, trying not to focus on the cool air of the room making contact with my exposed sex. The dampness from the shower still remained on my pubic hairs, only causing my vulnerability to heighten even more.

The man before us had dark hair that hung in waves to his shoulders. His face had a faint shading of stubble, and his eyes bored into each of us with an intensity that sent a shiver down my body. His nose was long and narrow, standing out as his most prominent feature. He reminded me of what I imagined a goblin king to look like in a classic fairytale.

The rest of the men who marched in behind this man lined up behind him with their arms clasped behind their backs, legs shoulder-width apart, and they stared at each of us. They all wore some type of business suit just like the others I had crawled past—and just like with the others, my father was not one of them, but I also didn’t have time to take in each person before my attention was directed at the man speaking.

“We are the Iron Colt Brotherhood,” the man began. “I am sure you have all heard of our society in one way or another.” He gave a wicked smile. “And let me assure you. All the rumors you have heard are true. And even worse.” He snickered at his own joke, but no one in the room showed any emotion at all. Unless you counted the women, who softly whimpered or gasped at his words. “I will be the master of ceremonies for the ritual tomorrow.”

I swallowed hard, struggling with the overwhelming urge to close my legs when his eyes peered upon me. Luckily, his gaze eventually moved on and looked at the next woman, and then the next.

“You are all now part of our ritual process. You belong to the brotherhood and no one else. The only way you can break free from that collar around your neck is when someone purchases you as their slave for the ritual. At which time, you will be handed over to your new Master.” He paused, but didn’t move his stance at all. “I have high expectations for this year’s ritual.” He paused long enough to look at every square inch of each woman kneeling on the ground. “For now, you wait while the bidding process happens with the members.”

He motioned to the men on the back wall who had dragged us into the ballroom to come and escort us out of the room which they each did by taking hold of our leashes and tugging us like before. Fortunately, we didn’t have to crawl long because the room we were escorted to was right off the ballroom.

Entering the room on my hands and knees, I looked up and observed that we’d been brought into another empty room. All except carpet. There was finally carpet to help ease the pain in my knees.

“Keep quiet,” one of the men ordered as we were all pulled to the center of the room. “It will soon be time for your Master who purchases you to come get you. Stay here, and keep your mouths shut.”

Again, I was left with nothing but the soft sobs from frightened women and my own dark thoughts of what terrors were still to come.

Chapter Fourteen

Makayla

I must have dozed off. The light from the door opening woke me as heavy shoes entered the room.

“Come on, Makayla. You are first. Time we take you to meet your highest bidder. You better be a good little girl and fuck him real good so he doesn’t trade you in for someone else. Otherwise, there will be other bidders just itching to get their cocks wet with your juices,” the same man who’d brought me into the ballroom by chain said. He glanced down in disgust at the other women cowering in the corner of the room. He then reached down, unclasped my chain from the floor, and yanked me up to a standing position. “Walk!”

I followed his command, looking down at the women who all looked up at me with fear in their eyes. Were they scared for me or for themselves? My bare feet padded across the cool marble floors once we left the room, and my captor didn’t slow down in the slightest so that I could keep up. If anything, he seemed to walk faster every time I fell back. I glanced down at the chain he held as he led me like an animal and wondered if I could grab it and wrap it around his neck and strangle him with it. Sure, he had several feet on me and about a hundred more pounds of mostly muscle, but maybe if I caught him off guard…

“Come on,” he said with a tug of the chain, bringing me back to reality. My superhero days came crashing down, and I swallowed back the fear as I was led up the stairs to a room much smaller than the one I’d come from. It was a bedroom.

Walking over the threshold, my escort pushed me down to my knees with much more force than was absolutely needed. I looked up with vengeance coursing through me as I stared at a roomful of men, many I recognized as being the same faces from when I first arrived.

It was the man who chained me who spoke first. “This is who you bid on. You were the highest bidder so she is yours to sample first. If you decide to keep her for the ritual, then so be it.” His comment was directed at a man who stood in the back of the room near the window with his arms across his chest. The shadows made it so I couldn’t make out his appearance. He too wore a business suit and appeared as wealthy as the others, but he actually did appear more soldier-like than the rest of the men—stronger somehow. More dominance and presence even without me being able to see his face.

But it was the man who chained me who approached me first. A slap across the face, a grip of my hair, he had me. He paused, waiting for a response. Possibly waiting for my tears, my pleas for mercy, but I would not give him the pleasure. I would not fuel his evil by feeding his strength with my weakness. I would give him nothing. Over his shoulder, I focused on the man in the shadows. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I didn’t fear the man. I suppose I should have, but I didn’t.

“Stop. She’s mine to handle. Not yours,” Alec declared in a booming voice, as he turned to face us.

Alec!

I recognized the voice before he even stepped into the light to reveal he was here.

Here for me.

He was here to save me!

The man released my hair, took a few steps back, and laughed. “But of course. Sample away. Claim her right now and see if she is indeed the one for you for the ritual.”

Alec walked toward me, a spell of slow motion being cast. One step. Two.

His dark eyes turned a darker shade of brown with every step forward. His jaw clenched as if my very presence angered him. Yes, he appeared angry with me… not that I blamed him. I was chained, naked, and my life was in danger. He had warned me, and I had chosen not to listen. So yes, Alec had every right to be mad at me. Furious. His face, that although had rigid lines before, now looked so chiseled, he reminded me of stone. He postured himself like a cougar. A cougar stalking for the kill. Dark, forbidding, shadowed in lustful strength. His hunt would end in the claiming of my body whether I agreed or not.

He never said a word. Never once said my name. It was all in his eyes. The command. I knew I was not to reveal that I knew him. Somehow, someway, he was making me understand that fact. I was to play along. Do whatever he asked and not question a thing. I saw it in his eyes. I saw the silent command to obey. My life depended on it. Our lives depended on it. Feeling guilty for putting him into this position in the first place, I dropped my gaze toward the ground in shame.

Alec squatted down before me and reached for my chin. Holding it firmly, he forced my face up so I had no choice but to stare into his eyes. “I paid a lot of money to have you, Makayla. I remember you as a little girl. I know who you are. We all know who you are. You can act brave. You may talk a big game, but I don’t play with scared little girls trying to hide what they really fear. You are afraid—I can smell it on you.” He took a deep breath to accentuate his point. And with an evil smile, he added, “I can smell your terror.” He reached for my collar with a key he had in his pocket and released me from my constraint, tossing the metal to the ground. The weight leaving my body felt like a hundred pounds, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple gesture of kindness. Alec was trying to act like he didn’t care, and that he hadn’t seen me since I was a child, but I could also sense how badly he wanted to free me from this place. Removing the collar was just the first step.

Alec moved his face even closer. So close that his lips almost touched mine. “I will tell you this one time, and one time only. You will obey me. You will submit to me. You will fear me every fucking moment you are alive. And you will fuck me. You have no choice in this matter.” His glare broke from mine for a split second as he glanced at the men around us, silently telling me to be aware of what he said. “You have no voice. It is I who decides your fate. Do you understand?” He glanced back at the men watching our every move, and then back at me. “But I also know that you won’t make this easy. I’m sure I will get some resistance as all the women in your situation do when first presented with their fates. But I am prepared for you to act out as again, it is quite normal.”

I gave a small smile—hoping it was enough to let Alec know that I knew I had to play along that I didn’t know him. He was right. Any female in my situation would put up a fight. So drumming up the courage to be as realistic as I could be if I were indeed just bought by a complete stranger or even by someone whom I knew as a young girl, I gathered the saliva in my mouth into a nice little ball of spit and spat it directly onto his face. “Fuck off!”

Alec recoiled and wiped the bubbling white fluid off his face as fury blanketed his entire expression. The demon emerged right before my eyes. Lucifer himself was being born in front of me. Alec had become the devil. The man was good at putting on an act… or at least I hoped it was an act.

His hand reached out and grabbed me by the neck, instantly restricting all air. The men in the room all yelled out:

“Kill the bitch!”

“Beat the shit out of her!”

“Teach the cunt a lesson she won’t soon forget!”

Call after call from all the men in the room. I truly sat in hell. Naked, vulnerable, and strangled by a man’s single hand to the throat.

Alec’s hand.

A hand I never thought would ever hurt me.

Alec threw my body back and straddled me with his hand still firmly gripping my neck. “Oh, little girl, that was not a wise choice. Looks like I am going to have to teach what is mine a lesson.” He began unbuttoning his pants with his free hand, never taking his eyes off mine. His hand loosened around my neck just as darkness threatened to take over.

He flipped me over and slapped my ass hard. The sound echoed in the room, followed by hoots and hollers of the spectators all around. He then straddled my body, grabbed a chunk of my hair, and lowered his face to my ear. “I have no choice. Understand this,” he growled. “I plan to get us both out of this mess alive.”

He continued the act with another hard spank to my ass and then another. He leaned down and whispered in my ear so only I could hear again, “We have to put on the show. I’m sorry.”

I bucked my torso up as much as I could, hopeful that it appeared I was using all my might to somehow get his large frame off my body. The effort was almost comical on my part, since I couldn’t even budge his weight in the slightest.

“Yeah! Spank her naughty ass, Alec. Spank her and then fuck her hard. Make her call out your name, begging for forgiveness,” a man shouted from the crowd of excited men. Each of them found pleasure in this display of dominance by Alec.

Fuck them all to hell!

“Yes, that is exactly what this little bitch of mine needs,” Alec agreed as he got off me and looped his finger around a chunk of my hair. As if I were a rag doll, he yanked me to a standing position and led me to a small couch that sat on full display in the corner of the room. He pushed my body so I was bent over the edge, facedown on the rough material of the cushions. The smell of dust and years of exposure filled my nostrils. “Let’s teach this ass of yours what your fucking Master expects from you if you want to be picked for the ritual and not discarded like yesterday’s trash,” Alec said right before he began raining down spank after spank onto my upturned bottom.

It didn’t take long for my flesh to explode into an inferno of pain. With each crack of his palm, shouts of celebration came from the men viewing my punishment:

“Harder!”

“Don’t go easy on that bitch!”

“Make her scream!”

“Break her good, Alec. Break her fucking good!”

Whistles, cheers, screams of pure hate and sick vileness suffocated the room.

The mortification that all eyes were on my ass as Alec spanked me like a goddamn schoolgirl was by far worse than the actual sting of his hand. Although his slaps eventually increased in severity, and I could no longer hold back the cries. They betrayed me by escaping my tightly closed lips. It fucking hurt! It fucking hurt bad!

Alec was doing too good of a job at this act.

“Stop! Stop!” I screamed between each searing blow. “Stop and just fuck me already.” Anything was better than this awful show of power.

Alec continued to spank as he spoke. “Oh, I will fuck you. But not by your command, but by my own. I am the dictator. I am your God. And trust me, little girl, when I do fuck you, you will be begging for it again and again. You won’t be able to get enough. Your body will scream for me.” He continued bringing blow after blow to my bottom. The shouts from the onlookers formed a wave of deafening music to my tortured soundtrack. “You will be shaking in need for my touch.”

As if the Gods of mercy gave me one last blessing, Alec finally stopped his assault. The fire lashes from his palm were replaced with a deep throbbing, now that my ass had time to process the pain. Fire and brimstone were replaced with a deep surge from my bottom all the way to the lips of my pussy. As much as I tried to fight the sensation of animalistic pleasure, the tsunami wave of lust washed over every inch of my sex, leaving me wet and wanting.

Alec leaned forward and whispered in my ear again. “It’s important that you listen and do exactly what I say from this moment on. Your life depends on it.” His voice seemed… softer, the sharp edge of before erased. I looked over my shoulder and stared into his eyes that were a warm brown once again. Odd. It was as if he truly had released all his pent up aggression on my ass.

He shoved his index finger into my mouth, almost gagging me with how far he forced it in. “Suck it,” he said loud enough that every man in the room could hear. “Make it nice and wet, because I’m about to put it up your ass. Make it slick, baby, unless you like pain.”

Hoots and hollers once again followed his crass command.

I had to keep telling myself over and over that this wasn’t Alec.

My Alec.

My Uncle Alec.

He was doing what he had to do. What I forced him to have to do to save our lives.

Any sign of softness vanished as he moved his finger around the inside of my mouth, collecting every ounce of moisture I had in it. Jesus, why did my pussy pulsate at the thought of what he was about to do?

“You should have listened to me,” he said under his breath, again just loud enough for me to hear with all the noise around us. “Now I have to fuck you for all to see. Claim you. We have no other option.”

His spit-covered finger penetrated my ass without any warning.

I cried out as the biting pain sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. His finger claimed me in the darkest of ways. He thrust it in even deeper, stabbing at whatever shield I had put up. With each pump in and out of his invasive digit, my wall of resistance crumbled.

“Fuck her in the ass,” someone called out.

“Fuck her like an animal,” another screamed.

“Yes, she’s mine. I claim Makayla as mine,” Alec declared as he pumped his finger in and out of my ass, causing me to involuntarily moan. I hated myself for doing so, but couldn’t hold back my mewls as I gyrated against the edge of the couch. My clit demanded attention, and I tried my best to meet the need without being so bold and reaching down with my hand—although the thought definitely crossed my mind. What would these bastards care, anyway? But then again, I didn’t want them all jacking off to my sexual act, though I’m sure some were on the verge of coming right there, turned on by this act of taking an innocent woman.

Alec thrust his finger as deep as he possibly could and leaned toward my ear once more. “I’m going to fuck you. Allow me. Don’t fight me. Trust me when I tell you this. Let go of your pride, pretend all these men aren’t watching—that it is just you and me at the lake house—and just open your legs and allow this. It’s just you and me at the lake house. Just you and me at the lake house.”

He pulled his finger out, and I could hear him pulling his pants down. I knew. I could hear him, sense him, feel his sexual presence without even having to look over my shoulder. Alec would fuck me… and God help me—I would allow him to. I would allow it to happen with all these men watching.

It wasn’t a scream that escaped my lips when his cock penetrated my wet pussy. It wasn’t a curse, or a demand for him to stop. It was a gasp of delight, followed by a moan of pleasure. My mind screamed to resist, yet my body demanded me to yield. He was inside me—balls deep. I was one with the man while the spectators all encouraged with shouts that all seemed to merge to one wave of sound. The evil sounds of these men had blended with my soul, and all light that held on by a thread became conquered by Alec’s possession.

Over and over, his cock thrust. It didn’t feel like before at the lake house. No, this was primal.

Primal fucking. Yes, this was nothing but a primal fucking. In, out, in, out. There was a rhythm. There was a cadence. My body marched in cadence to his mastering. His cock hammered my pussy. Simple. There was no way to describe it other than simple. His hard cock entered my wet pussy without any thought. This was an act. A means to an end. Put a cock in a pussy, cum in me, and then walk away. Fuck, cum, claim for all the men to see. Simple. I was nothing but a sex slave for tonight. There was no Makayla and Alec. There was only Master and slave.

My pussy stung. It burned from the inside out. It scorched my core. It decimated all that was good left inside. All that was left was fucking evil as the demons watched on. All that was left was rape, conquer, demand, hate, and hope. A dark, awful, alluring hope that if we played along, maybe… just maybe we could save my father and all walk out of here alive. Fucking hope. That was what there was. Nothing but dark, fucking hope.

I had blocked out the sounds of the voyeurs to the best that I could, but clearly Alec hadn’t. “Everyone get the fuck out. I want to have what is mine in peace. Get out and let me be,” he demanded as he continued to desecrate my body with his driving force.

All the men did as if he’d asked respectfully. Not a single argument was given, nor a sign of resistance. They all clearly saw Alec as a powerful man, and one whose directions were followed. Maybe it was the code of the brotherhood.

When the door closed behind the last man, Alec stopped his motions and pulled his cock out of me without warning. The action actually had me moaning in need. I wanted it back. I wanted him to enter me again.

I looked over my shoulder to find Alec taking off his suit jacket. “Put this on. It’s over… for now.”

Chapter Fifteen

Alec

I couldn’t believe I’d had to do something so… so… indescribable. That Makayla had forced me to do that. This was on her. This was fucking on her. I had taken her to the lake house to keep her safe! To keep her fucking safe.

And now this.

I saw no other way except to pretend I was one of them, that I was a supporter of the ritual and all about treating the purchased woman like a damn animal.

I had become a monster.

We were here. We were at a place I had sworn I would never be again. After attending one ritual years ago, I had promised myself that I would never stand among these monsters again. And yet, here I was. Not only standing among them, but actually being part of the ritual. But again, Makayla had given me no choice. It was either I buy her, or someone else would be first in line to do so. We were just lucky that the members of the brotherhood bought my story that I had always lusted after Makayla and that I now hated her father over a business deal gone bad and this would be the ultimate revenge. They all believed my story, and, of course, took my obscenely huge amount of money for the honor of claiming her and owning her for the ritual tomorrow.

Makayla stood with terror in her eyes, and with a shaky voice, she said, “I’m sorry, Alec. I hope you understand why I came. I had to. I couldn’t just allow my father to die.”

“I am beyond livid right now, Makayla. I can barely see straight. Do you know what you have done? What kind of danger you put yourself in? Look at you!” I shouted as I pointed at her nearly naked body wearing only my coat. “You are a fucking sex slave as part of the ritual because of your foolish decision.”

“But, my father—”

“Stop!” I shouted.

Makayla swallowed hard and then with those damn eyes of hers that made me weak- kneed, she said in not much more than a whisper, “Thank you for coming. For coming to save me.”

Part of me wanted to pull her into my arms and place a million tiny kisses over her entire body because I was so happy to see her, but the other part—the more powerful part at the moment—wanted to strangle her.

“Of course I came! How could I not come? You forced my hand, Makayla! You went against what your father wanted, and definitely against what I wanted. And now because you thought you could go off and save the day, you are standing here in nothing but my jacket after being paraded around naked in front of beasts of men. You have proven that you are truly a little girl trying to survive in a man’s world. I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking.”

“Please try to understand,” she said with a quivering lip.

“I don’t want to hear another word,” I snapped between clenched teeth. I knew I was being hard on her, but she deserved it, and I couldn’t control my rage at the moment even if I wanted to. My stomach coiled as the memories of what had just occurred stabbed at my entire being. Yes, we had already had sex before, but not like that. Not in front of sick assholes gawking and no doubt jacking off to the event which had occurred in this room only moments ago. “Not one fucking word. Because of you, I am now in this up to my goddamn eyeballs, and I need time to think. Tomorrow is the ritual, and you have no idea. No idea at all what you did just by coming here.” I pointed all around the room. “You think what happened in this room is bad? The nightmare is just beginning.”

“Alec…”

“No! Just be quiet and go lie down on the bed. We both need to get some sleep so we can deal with tomorrow with sharp minds. I can’t talk right now. Give me that. Give me some peace and quiet so I can try to figure a way out of this disaster before the ritual begins.”

* * *

Makayla

I woke up in the middle of the night, with the sharp chill in the air and fear of the unknown pumping through my veins. I had to still find my father. I sensed from Alec that he had all but given up, but I wouldn’t. My father was still alive and I knew it. He needed me. He needed us.

The full moon cast a strong beam of light into the room, only illuminating my harsh reality. I was a captive in bed with a man who claimed he would save me. But I needed to save my father with or without Alec’s help. Even if it meant me dying, then so be it. I would never be able to live with myself knowing I walked away and allowed my father to die. I had only myself to hold on to, even though my strength was fading. A strength turning into a pool of thick dark weakness, threatening to suffocate me in despair.

“Alec?” I whispered, breaking the silence of the room. I looked up at his face as he slept. He looked so peaceful, gentle, even in this living hell. This was not the rough man who had punished me in front of a roomful of men and then taken me against my will—or what appeared to be so. This sleeping man was not a monster. “Alec,” I said again a little louder.

His eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head to look at me. “You should be asleep,” he said in a scratchy voice.

“Am I going to die?” I had to know the truth.

“Go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long, grueling day for us. You need your rest, so we can face this head on and get out of here.”

“Are they planning on killing me?”

“No.”

“But my father? Will they kill him?”

“There’s a high chance. Yes.”

I should hate him for being so calm. I should scream and hit him over and over demanding he save my father. It infuriated me that he was so willing to accept just because it was the way it always was.

I should hate him…

So why? Why did I want him? Why did I want to be held? If he gave me one ounce of affection, it would be all over. I would be his, and only his. One touch, one kind word, one soft look. That was all it would take, and I would be his forever. Did he know how simple it would be to win this war? He would be the victor if only he used one weapon… give me some kind of hope that all was not lost. That was all it would take, and I would follow him blindly to the end of the world. My body already wanted him. As much as I hated to admit it, it was the truth. I knew that the last thing on my mind in this situation should be sex, but Alec… well… Alec.

“I know you aren’t like the rest of those men,” I declared, voicing my deep-rooted belief.

“No, I am not,” he agreed with a sigh. “I realized that a long time ago. But bloodline, legacy and southern customs have a pull stronger than you could ever know. Your father is proof of that.”

“Why? Why would he or you ever be part of something like this? I don’t understand. Why would your father, and your father’s father? Why has no one stopped the chain of this barbaric society?”

He took a deep breath and then positioned himself on his side, propping his head up with his arm. We were so close that we could have kissed and maybe that would have helped ease the awake nightmare we were in, but I didn’t move in the slightest. I didn’t feel I needed to in order to still feel comfort.

“You aren’t going to go back to sleep, are you?”

“How can I? I don’t know where Papa is. I have no idea what will happen to me when I wake up.”

“What if I told you that everything would soon work itself out? That if you trust me and do exactly as I tell you, you will be able to walk away from this alive and a free woman. Can you do that?”

I shook my head, more confused than ever. “What are you talking about? What do I have to do to be free again?”

“Trust me.”

“Right! Coming from a man who was going to just sit by the lake sipping a cocktail while his best friend died. And you beat me! Had sex with me in front of everyone!”

“I didn’t beat you, I spanked you. And trust me, if I were any other man in the room, it would have been an actual beating you would have received—one that you would barely survive. I did what I had to do to make it seem I was putting you in your place, but still not harming you. I was trying my best to not hurt you but still make it believable. Our lives depend on making every single thing we do from now on believable. The members of the brotherhood are powerful and wise. We aren’t dealing with ignorant men.”

I absorbed his words. “So you were intentionally not trying to hurt me?” I studied his face. “It didn’t feel like it,” I said with almost a pout.

Alec smiled for the first time since I had seen him at the mansion. “Yes, well, the whole situation that occurred with you wasn’t my intent, but you not listening to me and running off sort of forced my hand. Again, I had to do just enough to satisfy the men. I had to give the illusion that I was claiming you as mine to them, so they wouldn’t take you for themselves or feel like I was lying and doing this to protect you because I was once a partner with your father. I had to play it off that I always wanted you, and now that I could, I was willing to pay and do whatever it took. They bought my story.”

“Will they let my father go now that I’m here?”

Alec sighed. “No. It’s too late. Rhett will have to do the ritual because he refused the brotherhood. That is something you can’t do and not expect consequences. Had you told me this crazy plan of yours before running away from the lake house, I would have told you. You coming here is not a sacrifice. It’s simply giving the brotherhood both you and your father. They get the best of both worlds.”

“Do you blame me for running off? I couldn’t just sit there after reading that letter. I don’t know how you could.”

He shook his head looking exasperated. The way he casually spoke and lay only inches from my face—it was as if we were two long-time lovers having a midnight chat deeply in love. This wasn’t the way a Master and his slave should be conversing, or two people part of a sick and twisted reality, and yet it was how we were.

“I’m lying in a bed in an old plantation mansion I remember from my childhood, surrounded by sociopathic men who are trying to continue a sadistic ritual that should have never existed to begin with. I’m lying in the bed with the man who is supposed to be my Master, or owner, or whatever. But, of course, that is after I was stripped completely naked, spanked like a little girl, and then fucked for all to watch. Oh, and don’t get me started on being chained by the neck and put in a room with other poor women in the same messed up situation as me.”

Alec’s smile disappeared, and he grew serious. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m not the same as these men. I don’t expect you to believe that, but I’m not.”

“Then why? Why are you here being part of it? Why did you do the things to me you did, if you aren’t like them? Why are you just accepting my father’s fate? Why aren’t you stopping it? Why aren’t you trying to save my father and your best friend? Another human being?”

“I have had one goal since I took you away from Spiked Roses, and that is to keep you safe. I came here to save you. I did what I felt I had to do to save you from someone else doing it and doing it much worse. I’m here for…” He paused and turned to his side, his back facing me. “We’ve talked enough. Go to sleep.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder, pulling him back onto his back. “No, please tell me what you were going to say. I can tell there is more. I feel it.”

Alec studied me for a moment and then spoke. “Just trust that I know what needs to be done. I need you to play the part of my sex slave, and not try to do anything stupid.”

“Have you done this ritual before? Are there other women in the past that you have done this to?”

“I’ve never had any sex slaves. You are the first I have claimed, and the only reason I did so is because I know it will all be over in a few days, and I didn’t have a fucking choice.” He paused and swallowed hard. “And I will try my best to help your father if I can.”

My heart skipped. “You will?” I sat up in disbelief.

Alec also sat up and turned to face me directly. “Rhett and Minka were my best friends. Family. And you were like the daugh—” Alec diverted his stare and swallowed hard. “Whether you want to believe me or not, I was only following your father’s wishes. I care very much about him and what could happen to him.”

“So you think we have a chance?”

He nodded. “There’s always a chance.”

Chapter Sixteen

Makayla

I tried to go to sleep like Alec wanted me to do, but it was impossible. So many thoughts were running through my head. What would happen tomorrow? Would my father be all right? Would The Iron Colt Brotherhood figure out the ruse that Alec and I were playing? So many questions and thoughts of terror would keep even the most exhausted awake. I could also tell that Alec was struggling with the same issues because he stood by the window staring out, appearing lost in thought.

“I can’t sleep either,” I said softly. “Are you thinking about tomorrow? The ritual?”

“I’ve been to a ritual before, and I know what they are going to do to you,” he said, not looking at me but still looking out the window. “We need to prepare you for tomorrow.”

“Prepare?”

“I want to make sure you can be as comfortable as possible tomorrow, and there is only one way to help do that,” he answered simply.

He walked over to a dresser and pulled out some items that I couldn’t make out from the angle in which I sat. I clung to the blanket around my body as goosebumps covered my flesh.

“Lie down on your stomach,” he ordered as he walked toward me.

I did as he asked, as the mattress gave beneath my weight and embraced me in the softness of the blanket’s fabric.

“What are you going to do?”

“I told you. I have to stretch you. You’ll be glad I did.”

“Stretch me? What are you talking about?”

“Your anus.”

I snapped my head back to look at him in disbelief. “What? You are going to stretch my an… anus?” I was appalled. He couldn’t be serious.

“I told you. I know what happens at the ritual.”

“Which is?”

He squeezed some fluid out of a tiny bottle onto his index finger and without pausing, touched it to my anus. I gasped and tensed up, but he continued. He rubbed the cool, slick liquid all around the surface and then dipped his fingertip past the entrance.

I bucked and cried out. It didn’t hurt, but the invasion surprised me. I wiggled and whimpered when his finger went even deeper inside and the small bite stung.

“Just relax. My finger is nothing compared to what will be put inside of you tomorrow.”

“Oh God,” I whispered as I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the ministrations going on in the depths of such an intimate part of my body. What would be put inside of me tomorrow? I didn’t want to know… and yet, would my imagination be worse than the actuality?

“I’m adding a second finger. It might hurt a little as I stretch your bottom hole more, but in a few minutes, your body and mind will adjust.”

“Why? Why is something going inside of me there tomorrow?”

“Because it’s always been done that way. The ritual hasn’t altered since the beginning, nor do I ever see it changing,” Alec said as he added the second finger. And just as he’d warned, the small bite from before grew in intensity.

“Ahhh,” I cried. “I don’t like it.”

“Well, I think you are a smart girl. Your current situation isn’t about liking things from this point on.” He shoved both fingers in deeper, making me moan loudly as I clutched the blanket with balled fists.

He continued on with the stretching of my bottom hole, ignoring that I gasped and moaned with each tiny thrust of his fingers. He pushed his fingers in deeper. He shoved a little harder.

And then finally… he pulled out his fingers and I sighed in relief, happy my stretching was over. I moved to sit up but he placed his hand on my lower back, pinning me down. “I’m not done yet. The dildo is next.”

I looked over my shoulder, with less shock this time. Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as two fingers. “Will this hurt?”

“Yes.” He lubed up the phallic instrument. “But if you relax and take deep breaths, you may actually find some enjoyment in it.”

I smirked as I turned my head and hid my face in the crumpled up bedding. “I doubt that,” I mumbled.

I knew the instant the dildo touched my puckered entrance that it was going to hurt. It was big. Far too big to enter inside of me—

“Ahhh,” I cried out. “It’s too big. Please! You are going to tear me!”

He paused with just the tip of the dildo inside, burning the entrance to my bottom. “Shh… take that breath. Come on.”

I inhaled, and let it out with a shaky exhale. As I did so, Alec pushed the awful instrument all the way in. I screamed… or at least, I think I did. I really didn’t know at the time because my head spun as the sensation of pain mixed with a fullness that gave me an odd sense of warmth. I wanted it out immediately, and yet, when he slowly pulled it almost from the depths of my channel, I moaned loudly when he pressed it back in.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” I replied, yet oddly, I didn’t want him to stop. My mind screamed no, but my body reacted the opposite.

“I know. But you have to get used to something of this size in your backside. You will most likely be sitting on one of these for most of tomorrow.”

I whimpered at the thought. “Why does the brotherhood do all this?”

“Because they can.”

“So why do you? Because you can as well?”

He moved the dildo in and out in a slow and steady pace. I felt electric shocks run along every nerve inside my body, and although I didn’t necessarily want this to continue, I didn’t exactly hate it either. My pussy pulsated with each movement, and I knew if I started to gyrate my hips and rub my clit against the fabric of the sheets beneath me, it was very likely I could reach completion.

“I left this all a long time ago. I never thought I would be here,” he said softly, never ceasing in the thrusting.

“But you once were one of these men?” I asked, trying to keep my mind off the pleasure and the pain of confusion that erupted in my backside. “And my father?” I couldn’t imagine a decent man ever wanting to be in a position of such atrocity. Nor could I picture my father willingly being part of a society like this.

“Bloodline and power,” he confessed. He paused the action of the dildo but kept the tool inside. “Ambition, drive, and the need to reach what to many is an unrealistic goal. The Iron Colt Brotherhood gave us the tools to build an empire. It gave each member the keys to what could be a very lucrative kingdom.”

He sounded so sad as he said the words. I didn’t want to say or do anything, scared it would distract him and he would stop sharing.

“But power comes with a price. We all knew this.” He took a deep breath. “But sadly by the time we realize the consequences, it’s too late.”

“But why would you ever be part of this?” I asked, realizing there was so much more to this man.

He pulled out the dildo slowly and stood up. I turned my head and watched him walk to the bathroom silently. He seemed like a different man since our time at the lake house.

He walked back into the room, reached under my arms, and pulled me up to the pillow and adjusted the blankets so they were covering me. Was he tucking me into bed? “You need sleep. Tomorrow is a long day.”

“Alec?” I asked softly, looking up into his eyes as he pulled the blanket to my chin. “Please tell me that we will all walk away from this in one piece. You, me, and Papa.”

Sadness washed over his face, and I saw such pain in his eyes. “I’m going to do everything within my power to make sure that happens.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “It isn’t going to be pretty tomorrow. It’s going to be the worst experience of your life. But you will get through it. I will make damn sure you do.”

Chapter Seventeen

Makayla

I walked around Alec’s assigned room, crunching on an apple he had given me for breakfast. A shower and a fresh shirt of Alec’s that hung to my mid-thigh, and I almost felt human again. Almost.

“All right, take off your clothes and come here.” Alec didn’t sound mean or even like he was giving a strict order, but he did sound firm.

“What? Why?”

“I can’t lead you outside and not make it look like I am treating you how we are to treat all the women before the ritual. Master/slave remember? I can’t make the men think I’m going easy on you, or it will give up our cover.”

That made sense to me, so I walked over to him, removing his shirt from my body as I did so. I stood before him and waited—for what, I wasn’t sure.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me onto his lap. “Lie back over my lap.” He helped position my body so I lay on my back, draped over his lap, face up. The position was awkward, embarrassing, and caused me to feel extremely vulnerable. He rested his hand on my belly and looked into my eyes. “Those men out there are going to look at your pussy. Gawk at it, is more like it. They will expect to see it inflamed and raw from a night and full day’s worth of fucking. I need to give it that appearance.”

My eyes widened, and my stomach did a flip. “How?”

“By spanking your pussy lips.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I almost giggled.

“Spank my pussy?” I squeaked. The idea both terrified me as well as sent a delightful little shiver from my head to my toes. Not a part of my body was hidden from Alec’s view, and I truly was at his mercy—and… I liked it.

He answered my question by lifting up his palm and smacking it down onto my pussy. I flinched and cried out, but didn’t try to get off his lap or stop him. He did it again, and again.

“Oh, Jesus,” I gasped.

The feeling of the sting and slight bite knocked the breath right out of me. As much as I knew I should fight him, demand for him to stop, even scream for mercy, I couldn’t. God help me, I wanted more… harder… pain. I wanted the pain. No… I craved it. I hungered for it. I all but begged for it.

He used his fingertips to spank all around my pussy lips, the heat of his touch setting me ablaze. Who was this man? He was so much more than the Uncle Alec I had once looked up to and seen as an adult when I was simply a child. Why did he have the power over me that I would never have considered giving to any man before?

Alec paused with the pussy spanking and stared into my eyes. “Are you all right?” What an odd question to ask as he intentionally punished my most intimate flesh.

“I’m burning alive. You’re catching me aflame like a witch at the post.”

Heaven, Hell… both. Alec gave me both.

“A little bit longer,” was his reply as he continued to pepper my cunt. “You’re getting nice and pink and swollen.”

And wet, I knew I was getting wet. I could feel the slick fluid and could even hear the wetness make contact with Alec’s hand with every spank. There was no way to hide my desire.

Just when I couldn’t take another touch without demanding that he do more than just spank me, Alec stopped. He flipped me over onto my stomach and began spanking me on my rear again. Although this time, it felt different than before. It actually felt… good. I couldn’t resist bucking my hips to meet each swat of his hand. I wanted to be spanked. I wanted to feel the heat, the connection, the throb to match the deep pulsating in my pussy.

Was this submission? Was this what it was like to submit to a man? His dominance—my surrender. If this was what dominance and submission was all about, then hell fucking yes. Sign me up.

“I need to leave some marks on you,” he said as he spanked harder than all the previous times combined. “The others need to see that I have taken you in hand.” He continued to spank with a furious tempo.

I cried out in pain, but didn’t plead for him to stop. The idea of being marked by his touch sizzled my core just as much as his discipline did to my body. I wanted the label, I wanted the bruise, I wanted to be claimed as Alec’s, and for all to see that he had made me his. I wouldn’t have to fight anymore, or worry that if I didn’t struggle, death would be waiting for me. No, I could just be Alec’s. Alec’s to protect, and Alec’s to get Papa and me out of this mess one way or the other.

“Cry louder,” he commanded. “Let them hear it outside. Louder!”

It wasn’t hard for me to follow his order since I had no more control. My body was his completely, my soul completely dominated by the man. I cried, I howled from the top of my lungs, and I released every dark, fearful, and hateful feeling from my body. I released all that was wrong in the world, and wrong with this place in my cries. I cried for the other sex slaves. I cried for what could be the ultimate fate of my father. Over and over, Alec punished, and over and over, I cried.

I was lost. Lost in the sea of pain. So lost that it took me several minutes to realize that Alec had stopped the spanking and had gathered me securely into his arms. He held me close and rocked me back and forth, kissing my cheek, my forehead, even kissing the tip of my nose. He rubbed my back and pressed me so close to his body, I could have almost melted into his embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I had to do that, Makayla. So sorry,” he said between kisses.

Alec held me like that until all the sobs had stopped, and until my tears disappeared completely. I looked up at him and could see pain wash over his features. He was a good man who was clearly fighting internal demons. I saw it all so clearly now. I could truly see this man. Alec was trying to be my hero. A hero in disguise.

I slowly moved my lips to his. I allowed my heart, my desire, and my hunger for my hero to win the battle. I kissed him.

Alec froze for a brief moment, but then allowed the kiss to break his defense as well. His tongue brushed up softly to mine, testing the connection tentatively. This was not a kiss of pure passion. There was no hunger or wild fervor like at the lake house. No, this was a kiss of caution. A kiss of seeing if the result would be a burn or stab. This was a kiss of two people unsure of what was to come. Alec’s hands reached behind my head and pulled me in closer. So close that the kiss grew in intensity. This kiss was all we had at that moment. It was all that we had to hold us together. A kiss which held up the walls that were threatening to collapse in on us both. It gave us both strength. Power.

Alec pulled away and studied me for several moments before whispering, “We should stay focused on what’s going to happen soon.”

“I don’t care.”

“I…”

“If I have to look like I’ve been fucked hard all day, I might as well get the benefit of it.” These were not words spoken by a sane or rational woman, that much I knew. But I had stepped into a world of madness, and for right now, I wanted to play my part.

Alec ran his fingers through my hair. “This is going to be hard enough.” He took a deep breath. “You have no idea how hard this is going to be. I need your head in the game. I need my head in the game.”

“I know. But I don’t care. Give me this time. Fuck me, Alec. Not make love like before. Fuck me so hard.”

I gave up all control. It was my body speaking. My lust, my need for something other than the awful hate outside the doors of the room. For right now, for this very second, I wanted nothing more than Alec. Not the darkness waiting.

Darkness would look at me. Darkness would pull me in, strangle me, choke me until I could breathe nothing in but the evil, murky taste of black. Black tastes so bitter. So fucking bitter, but right now I could have sweet.

In a whirl of passionate haze, Alec tossed me onto the bed and effortlessly removed his clothing, joining me in nothing but skin on skin. The weight of his body on mine acted like a blanket of comfort.

“Makayla,” he whispered as he kissed me softly on my neck. “I should stop. We are in hell and—”

“No, please don’t. Don’t stop.” I reached around, grabbed both sides of his ass, and pulled him into me. His cock rested at the entrance of my pussy, and with one thrust of my hips, I buried him inside.

We both moaned as our bodies united, remaining motionless for a moment to just take in the sensation of becoming one. This wasn’t the fucking that happened yesterday. This wasn’t him taking for the benefit of others watching. This was more. This was two broken people finding a way back to the light.

And like two soldiers marching off to war, we began our cadence. In and out, push and pull, we fucked. Not an honorary uncle torn, nor a scared little girl in search of her papa, instead we were a man and a woman clinging to some form of pleasure before we had to go outside and face what we both dreaded. But for right now, for this very second, we had each other and carnal passion.

Arching my back, I thrust my hips hard so he had to drive in even deeper. My inner walls spasmed and electricity jolted through me. I was about to come, and I was about to come fucking hard. Alec sensed my impending ecstasy and increased the tempo and force, demanding that I reach completion with every motion of his body.

Reaching down with one hand, he pressed his finger onto my clit and began moving it in small circles. “Yes, that’s it, baby. Come for me. Come,” he coaxed.

His deep voice issuing an order was all it took. Lights flashed behind my eyelids, and I screamed out his name as my body rocked beneath his. My cries of passion must have been all it took to snap his control, because he followed my mewls with a growl of satisfaction as he filled me with his seed.

Breathing deep, and feeling more satisfied than I could ever remember, I whispered, “That was… that was—”

“Yes, it was,” Alec interrupted between his own deep breaths. He brought his mouth to mine and kissed me deep, claiming my mouth as he had just claimed my sex. “You may not be mine when this mess is all over. But for right now, you are, and after we step back into reality… it’s going to be really hard letting you go.”

God, what was wrong with me? There was a part of me that actually hated the thought of entering reality again. It would mean leaving Alec. What in the hell was wrong with me? I must be losing my mind. I was going insane. Everything was so God damn dark. Everything was hate.

“Everything is so wrong. And yet, everything is so right.”

He remained silent, but nodded his understanding as he peppered my face with the most tender of kisses.

I began crying, insanity had broken through my moment of sexual bliss. “Two people who are hollow. Fucking for the sake of being fucked. Fucking for survival. We must survive the right now, but we must also survive the darkness of what’s to come.”

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered between kisses. “I promise you, we will.”

“Help me survive. Please. Help my father. That’s all I ask.”

“We will get out of this alive, and we’ll heal. I’ll be there to help you heal. I promise. But for right now, we focus on getting out of here alive.”

All the chaos and angst going on in my brain was being countered by Alec’s light touches, soothing words and gentle kisses. Somehow, he made me feel safe. Not only in the immediate now, but safe to feel the way I did. I knew I wasn’t a foolish woman. I had made some pretty stupid decisions in my life as of late, but I considered myself a strong person with a decent amount of pride—even though I had managed to get myself kidnapped by a secret society with the idea that I could actually swoop in and rescue my father like what would happen in some action movie. Regardless, I knew that my feelings for Alec were genuine. My body and my responses to his touch were unlike any I had ever experienced before.

“Do we really have to go out there?” I asked, dreading seeing all the men. Dreaded being completely naked and vulnerable. The staring eyes were going to be the worst part.

Alec sighed. “Soon. For now, let’s just close our eyes and rest a little.” He rolled to my side and cradled me into his arms. “Let’s just enjoy this moment for a little bit longer.”

Chapter Eighteen

Makayla

I wasn’t sure if it was the weight on the bed or just knowing that Alec was sitting beside me that woke me from my slumber. It had been the first that I had really slept since arriving at the mansion. But in Alec’s arms, I had actually felt safe enough to sleep. An insane fact considering I was being held captive as a sex slave by a secret society. But as I opened my eyes to see Alec looking down on me, I oddly felt calm and at peace with the dark tunnel I would have to travel through to get to the other side.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up. I had fallen asleep almost instantly when Alec had tucked me into bed.

“Today isn’t going to be easy,” he said softly. “Are you hungry? Would you like something more to eat than just that apple before we go to the ballroom?”

I shook my head. My stomach instantly constricted with the thought of the ballroom. “Thank you, but no.”

He stood up and walked to a collar and chain that rested on the table. “Go use the bathroom and then come out here. We are all supposed to be in the ballroom soon. I have to put this on you.” He said the last sentence with such disgust.

I did as he asked and returned to the room and stood before him. I was naked, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. I would clearly be naked for the entire ritual and had already come to terms with the fact that modesty would only make this worse. The sooner I got used to my nudity, the better. This was my new reality. Acceptance was my only hope of not completely losing my mind.

Alec didn’t say anything but simply snapped the metal around my neck. He grabbed the handle of the chain that hung from the collar and led me out of the room.

I could hear screams and cries as we walked down the hallway. Some other Masters and their slaves exited their rooms. Some of the slaves were able to walk as I did, and others had to crawl on their already destroyed hands and knees. I saw bloody lash marks on some women, battered faces, and bruises up and down their bodies. Comparing myself to them, I realized that my evening was heaven compared to how theirs had been.

“Those poor women,” I whispered as we walked. “Those assholes beat their slaves.”

He nodded but stared ahead.

* * *

Alec

As we walked into the ballroom, the fucking of my brain only got worse. I knew what the ritual was. How fucked up this was going to be on Makayla, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to get her out of this unscathed. The only possibility was to just hope she could endure so we could leave with our lives.

A nice and tidy row of dildos sat lined up on a bench. I knew they were all bolted down since I had helped carry in the piece of shit contraption into the ballroom years and years ago. Had I known then that I would be looking at the dildo bench with disgust for what they were about to do to someone I loved... Each girl would be required to sit down, force that large fake cock up her ass, and sit like that for the rest of the ritual.

My stomach twisted to the point of near pain.

I looked at Makayla and could see that she knew what that bench of plastic dicks was for. She knew and yet she kept walking forward. She didn’t scream. She didn’t try to flee. She didn’t look at me and beg for help. No. Not Makayla.

She only marched forward to accept her fucked up fate.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hating that I was so damn weak and couldn’t force our way out of here. I knew I maybe could… but then Rhett would die for sure and Makayla would never forgive me.

As we approached the bench, she looked up at me. Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “Am I to sit on this?”

I nodded.

Others entered the room, and the cries and screams began. Masters began forcing their slaves onto the bench. Howls of pain and fear bounced off the walls and threatened to shatter the stained-glass windows.

“Go slow,” I whispered, trying to block out all the misery around me. “You took this size last night. You can do it.”

She continued to stare at me as if she needed my gaze to give her strength. She too seemed to be blocking out all the chaos all around. She reached out her hands so I could steady her and give her balance as she eased herself down on the dildo.

“Stop,” I said. “Put the cock in your pussy first. Get it slick with your juices. It will help ease it in your ass.”

She paused—her eyes so fucking wide and beautiful—but then shifted her weight to do just that.

Was I really going to let her sit on this cruel sexual torture device? I couldn’t!

I couldn’t!

I was not a monster! I wasn’t a weak piece of shit, pathetic monster who would do nothing and allow this any longer. I had to do something.

I needed to die before I let this happen. She wouldn’t fight. She wouldn’t beg, not that it would do any good. So, she needed me.

I needed to fight for Makayla!

“Stop!” I said again, with enough force to startle her. I would throw myself down on a sword before I let her pierce a part of her soul by such an evil sexually deviant creation.

“What?” she whispered, confusion in those eyes that were somehow slowly melting all the twisted roots that had been surrounding my heart. Twisted roots that no one had been able to penetrate before. Twisted roots that were meant to keep out any humanity, any goodness, and any chance of love. Her innocent and broken-soul eyes slashed at those roots like a mighty dagger.

“I’m going to put my hands around your neck,” I whispered into her ear, making it look as if I was threatening her. “I want you to struggle, gasp, and do whatever you can to make it appear like I am strangling you. You have to make it believable. If you don’t, we both die.”

She nodded, but never said a word.

Standing to my full height, I put my arms around her collared neck and nodded for her to begin. She let out a scream, then a gasp, some gagging, and allowed the tears to fall. She clawed at my hands. She writhed in fake pain. She acted like she was having the last breath stolen from her.

“You will never say those words to me!” I boomed in my most menacing voice. “You are nothing but a worthless slave. Replaceable. You mean nothing! And I am going to show these slaves all around you what happens to women who dare call their Masters names!”

She continued to struggle as I threw her down on the ground.

You will kneel at my knees until I say otherwise!” I said, hoping my dictate would be accepted by all.

I glared at all the women who had stopped fighting out of fear. They had just watched one of their own be nearly strangled right before their eyes. I hated that this act forced them all to give up their fight and submit to the awful act of sitting on the dildo, but I couldn’t save them all. I could only save Makayla. It was all I could do… for now.

I looked at one man and then another. “This pet of mine will rest at my feet where she belongs.” I turned toward the terrified slaves. “The rest of the Masters will do the same if you all don’t fucking listen to them. They are your Masters!” My booming voice resonated across the room, and I knew I had scared them all, which was my desired effect.

With my heart beating harder than it ever had, and Makayla’s submissive body kneeling under me, I walked to the far corner of the room tugging her harshly behind me. When I realized no one was stopping me, and no one was suspicious in the slightest, I kept walking until Makayla and I would be out of the direct line of sight of everyone. With long, confident strides, I marched like a man of power to the beat of my own destiny. No one even raised one eyebrow at my real intent to keep Makayla from being anally impaled like the others.

Or so I thought.

Two brotherhood members walked up to me and said, “She needs to be on the bench with all the others. Beat her, or do what you want later. But the ritual is about to start and we need her seated.”

My gut tightened and it took everything inside of me not to just beat the shit out of the men looking at me, but I also knew that if I made a scene, I was putting Makayla at risk. I could be booted out of the mansion and who knew what would happen to Makayla and who she would be assigned to.

No.

If she had to go through the ritual, then it had to at least be with me. As awful as this would be, at least it would be with me.

Lifting her up and guiding her back to the bench, I whispered, “I’m sorry. Understand I am doing what I have to do.”

“I know,” she answered lightly. “I trust you.”

Chapter Nineteen

Makayla

Alec eased me down on the dildo. Thankfully, because of his stretching the night before, because of my own pussy juices coating the phallic instrument, and my prepared mental condition, the dildo going inside of me wasn’t as bad as it could be. Especially, when I could hear the cries of women who weren’t prepared and had no idea what would happen to them. It stretched me, and forced me to try to hold my weight on my toes so as not to put my full weight on the bench, but I could survive this. I would survive this.

“Men,” the master of ceremonies said in a deep booming voice. “Let the ritual begin!” He then began to chant in a low, haunting voice, “Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae. Et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum, qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria Virgine, passus sub Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus, descendit ad infernos, tertia die resurrexit a mortuis, ascendit ad caelos, sedet ad dexteram Dei Patris omnipotentis, inde venturus est iudicare vivos et mortuos. Credo in Spiritum Sanctum, sanctam Ecclesia.”

Six men stood, three on each side with white canes and thumped the ground hard.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

On the sixth strike of the cane against marble, Alec unbuttoned his pants, unzipped, and pulled out his large penis. In shock, I glanced down the line of captive women to see that each of the men who stood before them had done the exact same thing, and penis after penis went as far as I could see.

“Slaves. I would like for you to formally meet the man who has claimed you for the ritual. Open up your mouths, and greet your Master who you are to obey at all times. Open wide. Now.”

His last word was so sharp that I actually flinched when the booming voice echoed off the walls. I remained frozen, not knowing what to do. As simple as the command sounded, the actual idea of having Alec’s dick in my mouth as I sat helpless before him with a dildo up my butt seemed impossible. I could hear cries and gags around me, the sound of faces being smacked for undoubtedly doing as I was—nothing. Although when Alec’s hand moved to my face, a slap did not occur. Instead, he reached for my chin, and pulled my face to the tip of his hardened flesh. He continued to hold my chin as he pressed past my lips and rested heavy on my tongue. I didn’t have a choice but to open wide as the thickness of his member filled every inch of open space in my mouth. The weight was heavy against my tongue, and as he pressed deeper inside, I struggled not to gag as his full size touched the back of my throat. He released my chin and placed both of his hands on each side of my head, and gently began rocking his hips. The friction of my lips along his smooth and velvety skin caused his penis to twitch and grow even bigger.

I looked up at him, and for the first time since he entered the room, he wasn’t staring at me. Instead, he had his eyes closed, his head tilted back slightly, and it appeared as if I were giving him pleasure by having my mouth around him. I glanced to my right and saw the woman beside me crying as her Master jammed his veiny penis forcefully into her mouth. At least Alec kept his pushing and pulling at a steady and almost gentle rhythm. I wasn’t crying, nor was I gagging anymore. Instead, I focused on the actual act itself. Tasting the saltiness, smelling the musky odor, and feeling the black hairs that circled his sex brush up against my face each time he drove as far into my mouth as he could. I simply held my position, kept my mouth open, and tried to tune out all the moans, cries, choking and mewling all around me. I think it helped that Alec kept his hands firmly placed on my head. It offered me the support and guidance that I so desperately needed.

“That’s it, slaves,” I heard the master of ceremonies call out from a distance. “Suck those cocks. Worship that cock in your mouth. You are to do exactly as your Master orders. The penalty for disobeying orders is death. So, make your choices wisely. Is your pride worth dying over?”

The entire time the man spoke, Alec kept his pace. In and out he went, plundering my mouth with his cock. As time went on, I could hear the sound of deep moans coming from the other men beside me, more gagging, and even spitting all around. A few slaps, even more cries, but I ignored all. I simply watched Alec’s face tighten, his breathing increase, and his thrusts grow in aggression. A deep moan came from the depths of his belly and exited his lips on a growl. Hot liquid shot from his cock and coated the back of my throat, forcing me to swallow the salty, milky matter. My body heaved, and I desperately needed to inhale a deep breath but his member still blocked my air passage. A new sense of panic set in when I wondered if I would choke, but was granted a reprieve when Alec’s cock pulled out of my mouth completely. I gasped and shook, but managed to not vomit as some women did around me. Alec released my head from his grip, and with a gentle touch of his fingertip, he swiped at the remnants of his release that seeped from the corner of my mouth.

After a few moments, as I struggled to regain my breathing and normal heart rate, I heard, “We have entered the next stage of the ritual, slaves. Congratulations. Your part of the ritual is over. Although, you are to be on your very best behavior and remain planted where you are.”

I glanced up at Alec who slightly nodded at me, and I knew he meant it when he said all would be all right. We were halfway through the dark tunnel out of hell. Almost there. Almost there.

Chapter Twenty

Alec

The women weren’t allowed to move, and I didn’t want to try to remove Makayla off the bench again and draw attention to us. Not now. It was almost over. Or at least the part involving Makayla was over. She had survived the part of the ritual that involved her, and now all she had to do was sit and remain quiet.

Though I knew that would be next to impossible soon enough, and it would be asking too much for anyone to do so.

“The final part of the ritual is ready to commence,” the master of ceremonies announced. “Bring in the players.”

I leaned down to Makayla’s ear and whispered, “Remain quiet. I know this will be hard, but don’t say or do a thing.”

She nodded, and I knew that if she had any control over her emotions, she would obey. But I also knew that it would be next to impossible, and I wouldn’t be able to blame her one bit.

The doors opened to the ballroom and six men marched out single file. They were each blindfolded with a black scarf and were led to a circular table in the middle of the room.

Hearing Makayla’s gasp at the same time I saw Rhett, made the situation even more devastating. The woman I cared about was no doubt shattering into a million pieces next to me as I watched my best friend walk toward what could ultimately be his death. The only good thing at the moment was that Rhett was blindfolded and wouldn’t be able to see his daughter sitting naked on the bench with a dildo up her ass. I assumed he had no idea she was in the room, and at least me knowing this gave me some comfort. No father… nor man… should have to witness his daughter or any woman go through what the victims lined up next me just had to do.

As the blindfolded men were guided to their seats, I looked down at Makayla who sat with her eyes wide, her lip trembling, and complete panic washed over her face.

I anticipated that any moment, Makayla would shoot up off the bench and charge toward the table. Hell, it was taking everything I had not to do it myself. But we were both wise enough to know we couldn’t stop the fates. We couldn’t stop the brotherhood. Even if we tried, we would fail.

The master of ceremonies began to chant, “Domine, Redémptor noster, qui teipsum morti tradidisti, ut omnes homines salvi fíerent et ad vitam possent de morte transire, clementissimam pietatem tuam humílter deprecamur, ut digneris omnes servos tuos intueri lugentes et pro amisso propinquo suo suppliciter exorantes. Illi omnia peccata dimitte, Domine, qui solus es sanctus et summe misericors, qui per mortem tuam portas vitae tuis fidelis reserasti. Ne fratrem nostrum a te separari, Rex aterne, permittas, sed virtute gloriae tuae locum ei lucis, beatudinis et pacis largire. Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum.”

Six men holding canes rapped them loudly on the ground.

The antique revolver was placed in the middle of the table, and I heard Makayla gasp again. I looked down to see tears streaming down her face, and yet she still remained in place, not drawing attention to herself. I couldn’t have her watch this. I couldn’t just stand there and watch it myself. Something had to be done. Someone had to stop this. Enough was enough, and if it meant me dying to try then I would.

I took a step forward and instantly felt Makayla’s hand on my thigh. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t get yourself killed too. I couldn’t live with that.” Her voice was so low that fortunately with all the Latin chanting, she couldn’t be heard.

“Let us begin,” the master of ceremonies said.

I had to do something. Anything. I couldn’t allow this to happen. Someone was going to die. Yes, maybe it wouldn’t be Rhett… but what if it was? What if Makayla had to sit here and watch her father pull the trigger and die? Would she ever recover? Would I ever recover? Would I be able to live with myself knowing I just stood with all the others and watched my best friend test the fates and see if the bullet in that gun tonight was meant for him?

No. No.

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

“Stop!” I called out, having all eyes turn to me. I stepped forward and away from Makayla in hopes that no attention would be brought her way. “I would like to sacrifice myself for Rhett Knox. My name is Alec Sheldon, life member of The Iron Colt Brotherhood, and I would like to cast my name for the game tonight. I would like to take Rhett Knox’s seat at the table.”

I had seen a sacrifice like this be done when I was much younger. A grandfather stepped in for his grandson to save a man who he felt still had his whole life ahead of him. The grandfather had felt he had lived his life, and he wouldn’t allow his grandson to die before him. The act of bravery did not end with a happily ever after, however, because it was the grandfather who ended up putting a bullet through his head instead.

I didn’t need to look back to know that out of all the gasps and murmurs flooding the room, that Makayla’s was one of them. But I wasn’t going to turn and see for myself. I didn’t want to face her. I didn’t want to see those eyes that melted every fiber in my body, and I didn’t want to see her pain. I didn’t want to give myself any reason to turn back and try to run out of this room like a coward.

I just had to tell myself that I was a lucky man. I had always been a lucky man. Hopefully luck would be on my side tonight. And at the very least—even if I died—I wouldn’t have to watch Makayla’s heart be ripped out of her chest if her father was the unlucky bastard who would die tonight.

The master of ceremony looked around at who I assumed were the governing council and when each man nodded in approval, he walked over to where Rhett sat and removed his blindfold.

Rhett blinked away the harsh lights and settled his eyes on me, clearly confused as to what was going on. I walked over to the table before I lost my nerve, and to hopefully get to him before he saw Makayla so I could help diffuse the situation.

He stood when I arrived, and asked in a raspy voice, “What are you doing? You don’t have to do this. This is my problem, not yours.”

“You did this all for Minka, and I had always wished I could have done more too. So now I can. I can keep Minka’s husband and daughter together.” And that was the truth. I was alone. I had no one to miss me… unless you counted the recent experience I had with Makayla, but no one else. A father and daughter should be together. Family always. I didn’t have family. “And besides. Face it man. I’ve always been luckier than you.”

Rhett shook his head. “I asked you to stay with Makayla. I needed you to keep her safe.” He glanced at the gun on the table and then at me. “Don’t do this, man. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you… die.”

I nodded toward where Makayla sat, knowing it was just a matter of time until Rhett saw her there anyway. “I couldn’t stop her from coming. I tried. But I did my best to get her through the first part of the ritual. It’s over, and now she needs you. Leave the last part of the ritual to me.”

Was I being a brave fool? Yes, but when I saw my sweet, innocent Makayla sitting over there on the bench, I realized there wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her. I’d promised her I would try to save her father, and that was exactly what I was going to do.

Before Rhett could wipe the shock of seeing his daughter naked and used as part of the ritual off his face, the master of the ceremony cut in. “Let us proceed.”

He then placed his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down into the chair Rhett once sat in. The blindfold was then placed over my eyes and pitch darkness took over. Odd how the minute the blackness took over, I could actually hear my own ragged breath as I was about to face the sick hand of luck.

“Domine, Redémptor noster, qui teipsum morti tradidísti, ut omnes homines salvi fíerent et ad vitam possent de morte transire, clementissimam pietatem tuam humilter deprecamur, ut digneris omnes servos tuos intueri lugentes et pro amisso propinquo suo suppliciter exorantes. Illi omnia peccata dimitte, Domine, qui solus es sanctus et summe misericors, qui per mortem tuam portas vitae tuis fidelis reserasti. Ne fratrem nostrum a te separari, Rex aterne, permittas, sed virtute gloriae tuae locum ei lucis, beatudinis et pacis largire. Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum,” began the chant again.

I pictured my time at the lake with Makayla to try to chase away my fear. I didn’t believe in God, so I had no one to pray to really. I could hear the heavy breathing of all the men around the table. Had they come to peace with the fact that they could die? Were they terrified? Or were they so arrogant to believe they were going to be just fine and the chamber would be empty on their turn?

“Player number one, it is now your turn,” the master of ceremony announced.

I hated not being able to see what was going on, but did I really want to see the man before me die? I quickly figured out by my placement that I was going to be player number five. Not last, not first… was there really a good spot to be in? The luck of the trigger pull could end with the first man.

I heard the click of the trigger being pulled and then nothing.

No gunshot, but instead the loud exhale from what I assumed was the man who had put the gun to his head and hoped there would be no bullet.

Player number one was still alive.

“Player number two, it is now your turn,” the master of ceremony announced.

This was a sick and twisted experience. I didn’t want to hear the gunshot go off because it would mean a man just died. But then at the same time, I held my breath desperately hoping the gun would go off because it would mean my turn would never come, and I would be alive. To have to sit at a table and wish for another man’s death turned me into the living and breathing Devil—evil, sinister, and a pure monster.

The click of the gun, but no gunshot.

Player number two was alive.

“Player number three, it is now your turn,” the master of ceremony announced.

I waited, wondering what poor Makayla was doing right now. Was Rhett standing by her? Would he be able to comfort her if the chamber was full on my turn? Had I made the right decision?

The click of the gun, but no gunshot.

Player number three was alive.

Three more players and one bullet remained.

I had a one in three chance of living.

I sat in between player number four and player number six.

One of us was going to die.

Player number four was close enough to me that I could hear the revolver be placed in front of him. I could hear his breathing. I could smell his body odor, and all I could do was wait.

“Player number four, it is now your turn,” the master of ceremony announced.

The man fumbled with the gun, and his elbow bumped into me when he raised the revolver to his temple.

The sound of the revolver firing, the loud echoing bang, the sound of death was one of the worst and one of the best sounds I had ever heard.

Wet, sticky blood splattered all over my face. Thick, metallic, signs of death were dripping off me. Chunks of human flesh and brain matter fell from my cheek, but I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. My ears rang from the close range gunshot, but I could still hear gasps, cries, and the thank god whispered next to me by player number six.

Player number four was dead.

Not sure I would be able to lift my hands to remove my blood-soaked blindfold, and feeling bile build in the back of my throat, I thought of Makayla to give me strength. She would need my comfort. No doubt the stress, fear, and then mortification as she had to watch the man die right before me was all too much to take. I had to be strong for her, even though I felt about as far from strong as I could be. With shaky hands, I removed my blindfold and tried not to focus on the dead man lying facedown in a pool of his own blood. The other men at the table had blood splattered on their pale faces as well, but each man eventually stood with heavy shoulders. I knew they felt the same way I did. Relief and guilt. Happiness and shame. Alive and not dead.

“This concludes the ritual for the evening,” the master of ceremonies said as if the fact that a man had just shot himself was completely normal. “Until next year, my brothers.” Then walking over to the dead man, he placed his hand on his back and recited, “Te, Dómine, sancte Pater, omnípotens aetérne Deus, supplices deprecámur pro anima fámuli tui. N., quem de hoc sǽculo ad te venire iussísti; ut ei dignéris dare locum refrigérii, lucis et pacis. Líceat ei portas mortis sine offensióne transíre et in mansiónibus sanctórum et in luce sancta permáneat, quam olim Abrahæ et eius sémini promisísti. Nullam eius ánima sustíneat læsionem, sed, cum magnus dies ille resurrectiónis et remuneratiónis advénerit, resuscitáre eum (eam), Dómine, una cum sanctis et eléctis dignéris; dimíttas ei ómnia delícta atque peccáta, tecúmque immortalitátis vitam et regnum consequátur æternum.”

Each man with a cane hit the floor loudly six times, and I knew the ritual was complete.

The nightmare was over, and we could all finally leave the plantation and act like nothing happened. It was the way of The Iron Colt Brotherhood. It was the way of the ritual. It was like some long fucked up dream occurred and if anyone dared speak of the ritual, you risked having to sit exactly where I was moments ago for the next ritual.

No.

We would leave.

And we would never so much as think of putting our name with a stone into the urn again. I would make damn sure Rhett knew this.

I somehow got my feet to move even though I worried my legs would fold beneath me and made my way to Makayla. She was crying, terrified, but I saw her eyes light up when we made eye contact. Right now was just about her.

Makayla.

Chapter Twenty-one

Makayla

I didn’t know exactly when my heart started to beat again, but the fact that I wasn’t dead from a heart attack or at the very least hadn’t fainted right there on the floor said something for the inner strength I didn’t even know I had.

I had watched a man put a gun to his temple and had closed my eyes, silently wishing to hear the gun go off. I had done it for the three men before him, disappointed each time the chamber was empty. As awful as it was—and fuck was it awful—I knew the only way Alec would survive was if one of those men at the table died.

I had to wish for it.

And I did.

I would have to forgive myself for those awful thoughts later, but right now all that mattered was Alec was alive.

Alive.

“Come,” he said softly, grabbing me beneath my arms and picking me off the anal dildo bench. “Let’s get you off this awful thing.”

I gasped as the removal of the dildo caused almost as much discomfort as having it inserted.

My legs were weak, and I could barely bear any weight. If it were not for him holding me up, I would have surely crumpled to the ground. He removed his jacket that was covered in another man’s blood and tried to conceal my nudity as fast as he could.

It was hard to believe that Alec was alive. He had somehow walked away from that table, when I was almost certain he wouldn’t.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” I said as I clung to his body, feeling as if I had to just as much as someone had to breathe.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as he kissed the top of my head. “It’s over now.”

The sex slaves—scared women—were either getting off the bench on their own, or others were helping them. But everyone was starting to leave the ballroom.

“Alec? Makayla?” I heard my father say as he walked up behind us.

When Alec had taken Papa’s place at the table, he wasn’t allowed to come stand by me. The other members kept him to far side of the room—flanked on both sides by the men holding canes—no doubt worried my father would step in and try to save his friend or something. Or maybe they were worried he would rush over to me and try to get me off the bench and cover my body. Regardless, of the reason, this was the first time I had heard my father’s voice in what felt like ages.

Alec turned to face him, but didn’t release his hold on me. My father pulled us both into a hug and released a sob. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” The one and only time I had seen my father cry was when my mother died. Although I couldn’t blame him for breaking down after all that had just occurred. I hadn’t stopped crying since the minute the Russian roulette part of the ritual began, and I wondered if I ever would stop.

It was over. It was finally over. I was in Alec’s arms. I was standing next to my father. But I kept crying.

My father took a step back and quickly glanced at me standing in Alec’s coat as my only clothing. “Why did you come? I would never have wanted you to go through any of this.” He glared at Alec. “You were supposed to keep her safe. You were supposed to keep you safe. This was my mess. Not yours.”

“He tried to keep me at the lake house, Papa. But I ran away. I couldn’t just allow you to die if it meant I could step in and do my part. As awful as the first part of the ritual was,” I paused, trying to get the images out of my head. “I knew I wouldn’t die from it. I had hoped that my arriving would mean them letting you leave. I had hoped I could save your life, so I left without Alec knowing.”

My father stared back at Alec. “Why would you do that? Risk your own life for me?”

Alec pulled me in closer to his chest. “I did it for Makayla,” was his short answer.

My father looked at me with raised eyebrow and then at Alec.

Alec decided to make it very clear what was going on between us when he kissed me on the top of the head and said, “I love her, Rhett. I’m sorry. Something happened at the lake house and though I tried to fight it, I couldn’t. And then being here, with all that was happening… I knew without a doubt that I loved this woman and would do whatever it took to save her. I’m sorry if you feel I betrayed you and—”

“You didn’t betray me,” Papa interrupted. “You saved my fucking life is what you did. You were right when you said you were always luckier than me, and I think had I been sitting at that table… well, I owe you. And I can see you obviously do love her. There’s no denying that fact.” He then looked at me. “Well? Do you love him?”

Love?

Was that what this incredible desire to never leave this man’s side was? His ultimate sacrifice for me proved he definitely loved me. Did I love him in return?

I looked up into Alec’s eyes looking down at me and nodded, knowing one hundred percent that I did. “I do, Papa. I love him very much.”

“So what’s next?” Papa asked.

“I want to take Makayla back to the room and get her cleaned up and then get the fuck out of here. I was hoping we could all go back to the lake house for a couple of days and heal from this horrible ordeal.”

“I would like that,” I said. “I want to go back there more than anything.”

My father nodded. “That sounds like a really good idea. I’m going to head home first and tie up some loose ends, but then I’ll join you guys in the next day or two. I think the lake house is exactly what we all need. Minka would have liked that.” He extended his hand to Alec and they shook. “I owe you my life, my friend. I owe you everything.”

I looked up at Alec and added, “You saved my father like you said you would. You helped me get through the first part of the ritual which could have been a lot worse had you not been here and had I been purchased by someone else. Thank you, Alec.” I stood up on my tiptoes to kiss him fully on the mouth, not caring that my father was watching. “I love you more than anything. Thank you.”

Alec pulled away from my face enough to look at Rhett squarely. “No more. The Iron Colt Brotherhood is dead to us. Do you understand me? No more favors, no more connections, no more names on stones. We will never step foot in this mansion or deal with any members again.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” my father said. “I’m not going to waste this second chance at life. I really did think it was the end, and well”—he looked around the near empty ballroom other than a few members standing around chatting—“I’m sick of these fuckers. Maybe it was good for great great grand Pappy and the other men in my bloodline, but I’m stopping it here. Forever.” Papa leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “I promise you, Makayla, that your happiness is all I ever wanted for you. I’m so sorry, but I will never put you in danger again. Never again.”

Alec nodded, seemingly pleased with Papa’s response. “Good. Then I’ll see you in a couple of days. I’m going to get Makayla out of here.”

Without waiting for a response, Alec led me to the room where we had shared the night. I’m sure he wanted to get clean and wash all this death and evilness from our bodies before we made our journey home.

When we crossed the threshold to the room, and he closed the door behind us, I couldn’t help it anymore. I could no longer fight against the tears that I thought I had stopped in the ballroom. Misery was too strong. It wasn’t the abuse. It wasn’t the humiliation. It was the way he looked down upon me as I collapsed on the edge of the bed. I could see so much pain. He was in as much pain as I, and I didn’t know why.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said in an almost lifeless voice. Each syllable came out like the staccato of rapid gunfire.

He bent down and lifted my limp body. I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed him to carry me to the bathroom in his cradled embrace. I didn’t say anything. Nor did he. I just cried.

He placed me into the shower and turned on the water. Although the water shot out of the shower head at a bitter cold temperature, Alec quickly adjusted the temperature until it was delightfully warm. So very warm. The water washed away my tears, and washed away the terror and pain—yet also a pleasure in the most taboo of ways—that had just occurred.

He discarded his clothes and stepped into the shower himself. He was naked. And except for all the exposed cocks in the ballroom, this was the first man I truly had ever seen completely nude.

I stepped to the side a bit so we could both share the streaming water. This was the first warm and pleasant shower that I had had in days. I had to relish the small pleasures in life now, because I’d had a small taste of how easily it could all be taken away.

“Hand me that bottle,” he said, pointing to a shampoo bottle.

I did so, and he squeezed it into his palm and then reached for my hair and began to massage it into my scalp.

I moaned.

I couldn’t help it. It felt so very good.

He continued to work the shampoo into my hair as the floral fragrance wafted up my nose, reviving my battered soul. His nude body was so close to mine, yet it did not touch, nor did I feel unsafe in any way. He used the rest of the soapy lather on his hands and ran it over my entire body. It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t lecherous. It was simply a man cleaning a woman.

I looked at him as he helped me rinse the shampoo out of my hair. He continued to bathe the rest of my body and then did the same to his. Silently turning off the water, he reached for two towels and handed one to me. Once he dried his body off, he used his towel to help dry my hair. He gently squeezed the water out, massaging my scalp again.

With the most gentle of touches, he placed his lips to mine with a kiss. Heat pumped through my veins and tiny jolts of pleasure sizzled through every nerve ending in my body. My eyes fluttered open as his mouth conquered mine. His kiss had woken me from my slumber. I returned the kiss with a tiny moan as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deeper to what had become my salvation. He said that I had saved him. But this man had saved me, as well. And this kiss was forever bonding us as one.

What was once a long, dark, epic story had now finally ended. It was time to leave and go back to the lake house. To go back to what hopefully would be the light no longer draped in shadows.

Chapter Twenty-two

Alec

I turned off the highway and followed the familiar road to Old Pier. Makayla was still fast asleep. At my suggestion, she had curled up under my heavy jacket and ultimately floated off to sleep. Rest was something we both needed desperately. But not nearly as much as we needed each other. We needed the reconnection, the healing time, and the time to figure out what would happen next. I needed to make sure that Makayla felt safe again. That she knew that what occurred in Georgia would never happen again. Her nightmare was over and would never haunt her again. That would forever be my life’s mission from this point on. The poor girl had been through enough.

After hours of driving, we had finally reached the restaurant that sat near the lake house. It had been a long trip home, so I’d decided to stop at the nearby restaurant, before continuing on to the house. Not to mention that we needed some level of normalcy and to see normal people who had no idea the hell we had just experienced. We needed to be a part of ordinary life almost as badly as we needed air.

I smiled at Makayla as I pondered how to wake her. Very softly, I whispered her name and kissed her warm cheek. Makayla began to stir, a moan mixing with a soft sigh. I brushed my lips against hers, feeling the loving beginnings of a smile. I pulled back enough to watch Makayla’s eyes gradually flutter awake. The smile disappeared for a short moment, but returned when she looked up into my eyes. It had been a while since I saw it, felt it, but I could see the connection was still there. The overpowering bond that would always hold us together. The love that united us always. We just needed this time at the lake to remind us of it and to wash all the ugly of the last couple of days away.

“Are we there yet?” she asked huskily while rubbing her eyes.

“We are.” I pointed at the beginning of a sunset, dipping beneath the sparkling water of the lake. “The sun’s about to set.”

Makayla’s smile widened and her eyes brightened as she sat up all the way to take in the scenery. The horizon illuminated a gold that seemed magical against the tranquil water.

I freed her seat belt and tapped the armrest between us. “Come closer to me,” I softly commanded as I enclosed her under my arm, snuggling her close. Makayla nuzzled her head against my right arm with a soft sigh.

She lifted her face as though she read my mind. As though she could hear how badly I wanted to kiss her. Her lips parted, inviting my mouth, beckoning my touch. She positioned her body closer to me, pressing tight against my strength. I gave a passionate kiss, a kiss like the times before The Iron Colt Brotherhood gripped our souls and attempted to shred them to pieces. A kiss that reminded me of why, why we were meant to be regardless of all the elements that fought to keep us apart. I tightened my hold, pulling her into my arms to keep her from slipping away. Our love felt whole again, strong again with the backdrop of the lake in the distance, but I didn’t trust anything I was feeling. We needed to figure out how to keep this feeling always. My hope was that this time back at the house would do just that.

We sat in silence until the entire sky changed from a copper flame to a dark ember. We held each other, occasionally kissing, stroking, and relishing our love. Alone in the parking lot, the simple moment gave us hope.

* * *

Makayla

At the Pier Point Restaurant, we had a table with an expansive view of the lake. The lights of the houseboats sparkled against the nighttime sheen of the water, which was illuminated by the early moonlight. Although the restaurant was crowded, I felt nearly alone since the other diners were lost in their own conversations. It was the most romantic place I had ever been with a man who had captured my heart.

I took in the scenery while fumbling with my napkin. I was nervous and didn’t know how to hide that blatant fact from Alec. He sat across a small table from me, and all I could think about was what would happen now.

“You seem awfully quiet,” he started, after the waiter had poured our wine, leaving the bottle behind.

I took a sip of the wine. It left a trail of red fingering down the crystal. The bold flavor helped ease the tightness forming in my throat. “So do you.”

“It seems we’ve both been this way since leaving the plantation house.” Alec reclined back in his chair and rubbed his thumb against the edge of the glass. “I think we really need this lake to get back to normal.”

I looked off toward the illumination on the water, trying to fight back the tears threatening to escape my eyes. “Normal? I’m not sure I even know what that is.”

“Then it’s my job to help you find that… if you allow me to. I want to.”

“I want that, too. I love you, Alec.” The words still felt right to say even when not under duress thinking the man was about to die. That was a good sign.

A smile washed over his breathtakingly handsome face. “So what do you feel is going to be our main issue? Do you think you can move on from all this? And do you feel I have a place in that picture?”

I took a ragged breath to attempt to steady my composure “I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Without you by my side from this moment on.”

“Do you want to move back to New Orleans with me?” he asked, keeping his gaze locked on me. “I love the lake house, but I really do need to be closer to Spiked Roses. I’m not ready to retire from my involvement with that place yet. I enjoy it.” He chuckled. “I might be old, but not that old. Retirement is not in my near future yet.”

“Yes. I want that,” I almost whispered. “I had been so excited with the thought of moving and living in New Orleans before… well before all this happened.”

“What about your father? He seemed all right with us, though I don’t think he really understands the level of what ‘us’ really is. What if he objects?” Alec leaned toward me, reaching for my hand. “I’m old enough to be your father, and that harsh reality is going to become very obvious when we thrust ourselves into day to day life.”

“I have to live my life regardless of what my father says. But he did say he was going to join us at the lake in a couple of days, so I think that is saying something. It might take him a bit to get used to the idea, but when he sees how happy you make me… As for when we go back to New Orleans and Spiked Roses… people will assume you’re my sugar daddy.” The blush on my face began to take over. I pulled my hand away and reached for my wine, taking a large swig.

“There’s some truth to that. I don’t mind being considered your sugar daddy. Let people talk all they want. I do plan on taking care of you and giving you whatever you want. I want you to have the luxury of following your dreams in whatever way that is. Call it what you want. I call it taking care of what is mine.”

I took another deep breath. “I don’t even know what my dreams to be are. I have had such a sheltered life that I didn’t give myself that leeway to plan for a future. The only dream I truly had was to one day feel ordinary.” I paused, shrugged, and took another sip of wine. “I guess I have to find myself somehow. I’ve been lost in a sea of darkness.”

“Well,” he said after a long moment’s silence, “I want you to find yourself as I stand by your side every step of the way.”

I allowed my gaze to move from Alec to the calm surface of the lake. The unfamiliar feeling of hope seemed to ease itself into my tense body.

Alec must have read my body language and guessed my thoughts because he continued, “I know not knowing the future is scary.” He poured each of us some more wine from the bottle. “But we survived something so ugly, that we are definitely going to survive anything that can be thrown our way.”

“I hope so,” I said softly, then paused as our waitress approached and set down our dinner. Alec reached for my hand and squeezed. His eyes connected with mine, silently letting me know we were going to be fine. The waitress was quick and, in moments, gone.

“You know I love you, right?” Alec said, his voice a whispered hush that couldn’t be ignored.

I nodded as I took a bite of my salmon. “I do. But I get nervous that love might not be enough.” I stiffened in my chair and reached for my wine with a shaky hand. “The Iron Colt Brotherhood still exists and will always be there… looming in the distance.”

“Never again. We will never be involved with them again. Your father is done. I’m done.” Alec’s voice was deep and hoarse, as if he had to force the words out. He stopped eating, blew out a breath and said, “I know it’s hard to believe. But I need you to know that I am a powerful man even without the brotherhood behind me. There is nothing I won’t do to keep you safe.”

“I know… you proved that to me. You saved me. You saved my father. I owe you everything.” I took a long drink of my wine, trying desperately to clear the lump that remained in the back of my throat. I wondered if the awful memories would ever go away.

Alec shook his head slowly, staring down at his steak dinner. “You don’t owe me a thing.” Alec looked up into my eyes. “I want you, Makayla. I want you in my life. But please don’t agree to this because you feel you owe me.”

“I want you too,” was all I could barely squeak out. The man stole my breath with the way he looked at me. So powerful. So all consuming.

Alec softly touched my hand. His palm was warm, strong, and delivered chills racing up and down my spine. I looked deep within his eyes and saw a stoically confident, determined man. How could I ever resist a man like him? Alec was in my blood.

With a mischievous smile, he asked, “Do you want to get out of here? Let’s go check out the house and make sure it’s the way we left it.”

I glanced at my plate and then his. “We haven’t finished eating yet.”

“All I want right now is to pick you up, toss you over my shoulder, and carry you out of this restaurant. I want you alone, so I can show you just how much I love you.” Alec pushed his chair back, grabbed his wallet and placed a pile of cash on the table.

“We didn’t get the bill yet —”

“Makayla.” Alec reached out his hand and stared down into my eyes. “Either we get out of here right now, or all these people are going to see you as I bend you over this table and fuck you like I desperately want to do. I prefer to fuck you in private,” he said with a wink. “But I’ll leave that decision up to you.”

I took a moment to think about it, playfully acting as if I were actually considering just keeping my seat. Defying him and refusing to leave, just so I could guarantee his threat would come to fruition. But I also wanted him just as badly as he wanted me. So, with a sly smile, I stood up and took his hand.

Chapter Twenty-three

Makayla

I snuggled more deeply into Alec’s arms. He hadn’t let me out of his sight, or the bed, since arriving back at the lake house. I was exhausted and starving, and knew he had to be as well.

“We should go out and get something to eat,” he suggested, as if reading my mind.

The idea of an early dinner sounded great, but I didn’t want to move. I liked it right here in his arms, my body warm, melting as I thought of all the lovemaking we had just shared and no doubt would continue to. Lots of slow, lingering kisses, mixed with passionate gasps and pleas for more. I smiled against his chest. I loved the way we drove each other crazy.

“I’m not hungry,” I lied. I wanted to sit here like this, in his arms, until one of us was forced to move.

“I thought for sure we worked up an appetite. Is it time for another round?” he suggested.

Another smile pulled at my lips. “I’m not sure I can. I think you’ve truly worn me out.”

“Then dinner it is.”

I raised my head to look at him. “Okay, just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

“I’m naked.”

“Exactly,” he chuckled.

I sighed and collapsed against his muscled chest once more. “Do you want to eat dinner or not?”

“Fine.” He moved free of me, and stood naked at the side of the bed. “We need our energy for later. We will have the entire night ahead of us.”

I laughed. “You’re crazy.”

He bent down and kissed the tip of my nose. “Promise me you won’t move. I have an idea.”

I rolled onto my stomach, propped up on my arms and smiled up at him. “Shall we have dinner in bed?”

“You’re reading my mind.” Alec smiled. “Stay right there. I’ll be right back.”

He kissed me in that slow, sweet way of his, and I nearly forgot all about the growl of hunger in my stomach. I just wanted him to keep kissing me.

Alec was gone long enough to make me want to break my vow of staying put. When he finally returned, he carried a tray laden with a variety of cheese, crackers, and meats.

“Here you go.” He placed down the tray and backed toward the door. “I just have to get one more thing.”

I nibbled on a piece of cheese. He was back in an instant, with a simply wrapped gift in his hands.

Alec sat it on the bed in front of me. “Open it.”

I looked at the box with surprise. Looking up to Alec, I searched his eyes for some hint as to what was inside.

“Open it,” he urged.

I slowly removed the silky white ribbon. I lifted the lid and smiled at the piles of rose petals that acted as tissue paper. “What’s this?”

“You’ll see.”

I dug through the petals, finally finding a citrine ring with the stone in the shape of an oval. I gasped and instantly burst into tears. It was my mother’s. I recognized it. I remembered it from so many years ago.

“How did you get this? Where did you find it?”

He pressed a fingertip to my lips. “Do you like it?”

I placed the ring on my finger and stared with admiration. It fit just like it had fit my mother. I nodded. “It’s so beautiful! But how? This wasn’t in her belongings after she died. I know all of her jewelry by heart. This wasn’t in the collection I have back in Georgia.”

“That’s because she lost it here at the lake one year. It was one of her favorites, and she wore it all the time,” Alec said.

“I remember. She wore it on her middle finger every day. I still have pictures of her with the ring showing.”

“She did,” Alec said with a nod. “But then she lost it. She thought it was when she was swimming, but she was wrong because I found it. When I was downstairs in the basement getting us a bottle of wine, I saw it shining up at me.”

“It had been there all the time?” I asked, wiping away at the tears streaming down my face.

“It was never lost. And now it’s here for you.”

I was like my mother was giving her blessing on this relationship. Her blessing on my choices to move to New Orleans and be with Alec. Like she was looking down and telling me it wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t taboo. That it was what she would have wanted for me all along. She wanted me to be happy, and now that I was… she was giving me her blessing by this gift of one of her most prized and precious possessions.

“I think she would have been happy for us. She would have supported our love, and I think this was her way to let us know that.” I looked at him and smiled. “Do you think I’m crazy for believing that?”

“Not crazy at all. I agree, and I know this ring will make you think of your mother, but I’m hoping it will also remind you of our time at the lake… together.”

I tugged him down onto the bed. Forgetting about the food, I kissed him with the passion that exploded from my heart. “You have given me the best gift.”

He kissed my hand. “One of many… if you will allow it. I love you, Makayla.”

“And I love you. Promise me that we’ll always have this love. Promise me that we won’t lose this.”

“There’s no question in that. I love you. Always will,” he replied in a thick voice.

“What if leaving the lake house changes all of that? What if it changes us? What if all those dark shadows we just escaped find us again?”

“Never. Trust in us. Trust in me to protect you and never allow anything like that to happen again. I will give you normal. Trust me.” He reached for me, dragging me into his arms, holding me with all his strength.

“I do.” I looked at him hopefully. “But can’t we just stay here at the lake forever to be sure?”

With a warm smile he said, “We will always have the lake house, but we don’t need the lake house to be safe. Not anymore. You have me, and I have you.”

I raised my face to him and he lowered his head, his lips coming down on mine for a long, ravenous kiss. A kiss that made me feel more loved and protected than I even thought possible. I knew that no matter what, Alec was going to make sure I had my happily ever after in what was a dark and terrifying world. And even when we had to leave and face our new reality, I knew we would always have our lake house… our past, our memories, and our home.

The End

Beasts & Bourbon

Chapter One

Cheri

The sunlight of a new day has a way of changing how you once viewed something the night before in the darkness. This could be a good thing when you fall asleep feeling as if the whole world is crumbling down upon you, but then the morning brings new hope and a fresh perspective. Or this could be a bad thing when you meet a man in a bar, think he is the sexiest thing you ever laid eyes on, bring him home for a night of incredible but casual sex, and then look over and realize that the sunlight is not your, or his, friend.

Shit. When would I learn that two margaritas, followed by too many tequila shots, would make any man appear hot in a small Costa Rican dive bar? Sure, he was a tan, lean surfer, still sandy and damp from the salty water of the sea. Sure, he wore a man bun, which for the life of me I could never figure out why I found that attractive, but I did. Sure, he seemed to have the free spirit gypsy soul I found so enticing in a person. The type of man who traveled from one adventure spot to the next, never taking root in any one town for long. And yes, I melted into a pool of goo when he said my name with that thick accent that I simply called ‘European,’ because I never could figure out which country these surfer boys came from. Yes, my panties dropped for men like that.

Vagabonds. I liked to fuck vagabonds.

Was my situation helped by the fact that, in my alcohol-induced haze, I’d told the man I wanted to lick his nipple?

Well I did.

I own it.

Should I have tried to examine his appearance closer, past the shadows of the local hangout, and through the blurry booze goggles? Glancing over my shoulder at the man snoring lightly in my bed, I knew the answer was a big hell yes.

What had I been thinking? Where was his sexy man bun now? All I saw in the light of day was greasy, unwashed hair. Where was his muscled chest that I’d so desperately wanted to bathe with my tongue the night before? The man in my bed now looked thin, borderline emaciated, and in need of a meal that wasn’t vegan and organic.

The poor guy needed a damn cheeseburger.

But vagabonds who wore man buns and surfed in Costa Rica didn’t eat burgers. It was some unspoken rule—the vagabond rule.

I looked at that pec I’d so hungered for the night before and cringed when I saw the ingrown hair bumps circling his nipple. Really? Really! My tongue caressed that plucked-feather flesh last night?

Reaching down for my crumpled panties on the tiled floor, I shook my head in disgust. The purple lace of my underwear contrasting with the decorative Spanish clay tiles reminded me that I was in a foreign exotic location, yet making the same foolish mistakes of my past. I should have known better when he’d compared my hair to the golden rays of the sun, and my eyes to the blue of the sky. He’d actually said the thick curls in my long hair reminded him of the ribbons on a holiday present. The man had no game. But I’d stupidly wanted to lick his damn nipple and had been willing to overlook the fact that he seemed in awe of my every move—the creeper, stalker type of awe that should have sent any sane girl running.

But sane girls don’t do tequila shots with strangers in random bars in Costa Rica all alone. No, I was far from a sane girl.

So, now the time had come when I had to decide if I was going to be a bitch and simply kick him out, which is what I really wanted to do. Or if I would just give him some bullshit answer that would spare his feelings. I knew all I had to do was give him some line about needing to go write poetry under a palm tree while eating mangos or something bohemian in nature. Then he would feel like he was aiding my artistic soul and gladly go on his way, assured he was part of my enlightenment. Total bullshit, but I knew it would work.

Glancing at the man in my bed, I wondered why I was so disgusted. He hadn’t even opened his mouth yet, and I was already condemning him as a shallow-minded hipster. Poor guy. But the fact remained that I still wanted him out of my small bungalow, and I wanted it to happen now.

Pulling a simple black tank top over my head, and then yanking up a pair of loose-fitting denim shorts, I leaned down and shook his arm. “Hey.” I shook him again with more force when he didn’t even budge in the slightest. “Hey, it’s time to wake up.”

Rolling over to his side, he reached for my hand. “Why the hurry?” he mumbled, not really opening his eyes as he tried to pull me into bed with him.

“I need to go.” Here came the bullshit. “The waves are great this morning, and I really want to wake up with the ocean.”

He stretched his arms above his head and yawned so big I could see that each one of his molars had a silver cap on them. His tongue was white. The man needed to brush his teeth in the worst way. “Okay, give me a second, and I’ll go with you. I’m always up for a good surf.”

I walked over to a small wicker desk in the corner of the room, pulled a notebook and pen off of it and placed them near my brown leather bag that rested on a chair by the door for effect. “Oh, I don’t want to surf. I need to work on my writing.”

The last part really wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t turned out a short story, an article, a poem or anything since arriving in Costa Rica. Being a freelance writer sure did have its perks when it came to freedom and flexibility, but it required a lot of discipline to be able to actually feed yourself. Discipline was not something I had, although fortunately for me, I had somehow won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry earlier in the year, and the $15,000 award helped float my dry spell.

“You write?” he asked, still not getting out of the bed. “That’s cool.”

I nodded. “Yeah, sometimes.” I walked to the small bathroom and attempted to tame my curly locks by pulling them into a sloppy bun. “But I really need to get going.” I peered out of the corner of my eye as I applied deodorant and then reached for my toothbrush. “I don’t mean to rush you or anything, but you know how it is. When inspiration calls…”

Continuing on with my morning hygiene duties and brushing my teeth, I sighed with relief when he finally flung his legs over the bed and rubbed his face. He was taking his sweet ass time, but at least he was moving.

“Yeah, I get it. I write songs.”

I simply raised my eyebrows in feigned fascination and nodded like we had some deep connection. Satisfied, however, that he was at least moving to put on his pants, I just brushed away to allow the sudsy toothpaste dripping from my mouth to be my excuse for not asking about his songwriting. I couldn’t care less, which was awful. But I really didn’t give a damn whether he wrote, or sang, or painted, or spoke philosophy, or considered himself a gourmet chef all because he could cook paella. I was so over that type of man… well, at least in the sunlight and when sober. Mr. Tequila unfortunately changed everything.

Damn Mr. Tequila.

Reaching for his shirt, he said, “Well, I had a really great time with you last night, Cherry.”

“Cheri.”

“What?”

“My name is Cheri—the ‘sh’ at the beginning. Not Cherry.” Not that I cared that he didn’t know my name. I had no idea what his name was nor did I bother to ask.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said your name was Cherry like the fruit. So, like the drink Sherry. Got it. My grandmother loved drinking that shit.”

Lovely. Like I gave a fuck about his family.

I sighed. “So I really need to get going. Maybe I’ll catch—”

There was a knock on the door, breaking my annoyance. Having no clue who could even be at my door, I walked slowly across the room and opened it cautiously without bothering to ask who it was. If this was a robbery, my hipster fuck buddy wasn’t going to be much help in protecting my ass, so my safety was all on me.

Peeking around the wood, with my heart beating due to my overactive imagination, I saw the man who should have made me slam the door in his face right then and there. But I didn’t. My fucking past was paying me a visit. A robbery would have been better. Fuck me. A hipster, a hangover, and The Past knocking on my door. Could my morning get any shittier?

“Silas Roope,” I began as I opened the door so I could see the man I hadn’t laid eyes on in at least ten or so years. I curtseyed. “Why am I so fortunate to have the gracious Mr. Roope flying across the world to see me? I trust your travels were not arduous.”

If he picked up on my sarcasm, he ignored it. Silas simply walked past me and into the room with a level of sophistication and arrogance that only he could pull off. He still wore the gray three-piece suit I always remembered him wearing. It always matched his gray hair, though, after all these years, he did have less of it—the hair I mean. His black shoes were polished to perfection, and his slacks were pressed impeccably. Not that I expected anything less from the trusted advisor of King Paul IV and his royal sons.

Silas studied my vagabond man as the poor fella quickly got his stuff together so he could leave the aristocratic energy. Not that I blamed him one bit. I wanted to flee myself.

“I see you have company, Cherise,” Silas said with his nose pointed upwards as if there were a pungent odor in the room.

“Cheri, Silas. You know I go by Cheri,” I corrected, irritated that the man still insisted on calling me by that god awful name my mother thought had sounded regal. “And why are you here?”

“My apologies. I had hoped that you had outgrown that childish nickname. I see that you may not have outgrown many things.” He clasped his hands in front of him as he scowled at my guest. “Prince Roman has sent for you. I am here to bring you to him.”

Prince Roman… shit.

The man from last night stared at me in disbelief. “Are you a princess or something?”

I rolled my eyes as Silas said, “Hardly.”

“No, I’m not. But I do need to be alone with my unexpected visitor if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” the man said as Silas turned and examined Mr. Tequila Man as he rushed out of my bungalow without saying another word or even acknowledging the fact that we had just fucked last night. Not that I minded that I had finally gotten rid of my vagabond fuck buddy.

“Interesting company you surround yourself with,” Silas said in that judgmental tone that made me want to rip his eyebrow hairs out one by one. “I see some things haven’t changed. You really are above all this nonsense, Cherise.”

I smirked and crossed my arms. “I see some things haven’t changed for you either. You’re still the same pompous ass you always were.”

Silas’s jaw locked. “Say what you will, Cherise, but we have very little time to chit-chat. I have the pilot waiting for us to depart immediately. Prince Roman is in New Orleans right now, and I hope to deliver you soon and not keep him waiting long.”

I laughed. “Dementia must have taken hold in your old age, sir. I’m not going anywhere with you, and I don’t give a fuck about where Roman is.”

New Orleans. He was in New Orleans…

“I figured you wouldn’t. So much so, that I took necessary steps to assure that you would indeed be traveling with me today.”

I sighed, growing more annoyed by the minute. “Fine, I’ll bite. What steps have you made that I’d be so willing to just hop on a plane and fly across the world with you on a moment’s notice?”

“Ah, Cherise, where are your manners? Your mother would be appalled to find out that all those years of etiquette classes have gone to waste.”

“Save it, Silas. Are you going to stop fucking around and tell me what’s going on? Or should we just say our farewells and call it?”

“Very well,” he said with a large exhale. “Let’s continue discussing your mother, shall we? As you know, she loves living the life of the countess, though the count has been dead since you were a baby. The life of a countess is not cheap. In fact, it is quite expensive. With all the dinners, the galas, the shopping sprees, the yachts, the holidays in Bali, and simply the wardrobe alone.”

My jaw clenched, and my stomach rumbled as Silas reminded me of everything I’d left behind—or more like ran away and escaped from. That world was everything I hated and wanted no part of. But my mother was different. She loved it. That rich and famous lifestyle was what she lived for. It defined who she was. It was all she really had after my father died. One could say she had me, but she wasn’t really mother material. She wasn’t an awful mother, and I loved her, but she saw me more as a friend rather than someone to parent and offer guidance to. Maybe that was one of the reasons I liked to fuck vagabonds. I never had someone in my life telling me that it was a very bad idea. I never got the vagabond warning.

“Why are we discussing my mother?”

“Well, I’m not certain if you are aware of the countess’s financial holdings or not. It was several years ago that Prince Roman felt the need to step in and stop your mother’s estate from going into foreclosure. He bought the house and even threw in a monthly stipend to assist in her lavish lifestyle.”

“What are you talking about? Why would Roman buy her house? And how do I not know about this?” Confusion and anger were combining inside of me, forming a cocktail that tasted like like bile.

Silas shrugged. “How you and your mother communicate is none of my concern. Maybe if you weren’t gallivanting around in third world countries, you would have realized that your mother has overspent and most certainly overindulged.”

I had no idea. No idea at all.

“Are you saying that my mother is completely broke?”

“Yes, completely. She has been for many years.”

“So, Roman stepped in and saved the house?” It didn’t seem like something Roman would do. Prince Roman cared about one person and one person only. Himself.

Silas shrugged again and then straightened his tie. “You say saved, I say purchased. His reasons are unknown. But regardless, he owns the estate, and has been giving her an extravagant allowance for years now.”

“Why?”

“Does it really matter why?” Silas paused as if I were going to answer him. When it became obvious I wasn’t, he continued, “What does matter is that I manage the finances of some of the royal family, including Prince Roman’s. And if you were not to accompany me to New Orleans, I may have to deem the expenses incurred by the countess as frivolous and fiscally irresponsible. I may also have to be forced to find tenants for the estate who are able to pay rent rather than slumming such as your mother is now.”

“Unless I go to New Orleans with you? That’s all you want?” I asked, confused as to what the real reason was for Silas’s visit. “Why were you sent to bring me to Roman?”

“Cherise, come now. Don’t act as if you don’t know.”

Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach, and it wasn’t the hangover. “No, no, no, no!” I said as I took a few steps away from Silas. “Absolutely not. No.”

“Cherise, you knew this day would someday come.”

I shook my head as if I could shake away the words Silas was saying. “First off, I never agreed to it. I was a child and you fucked up royals live by an ancient rule. You better not, even for a second, be here to bring me back to Roman to… you better fucking not be!”

“No need for such vulgar language,” Silas chastised. “Your hand was promised to Prince Roman. You know this. You have always known this. And the time has come. He has reached the age of thirty, and we can no longer have him not married.”

I shook my head even harder than before. “Absolutely not. I’ll have no part in this. I left that all behind me. This is fucked up, and I want no part of it.”

“You can’t simply move to another country—no matter how far away it is—and expect to erase your past and your duties. You were groomed for this day.” Silas scanned his eyes from my wild sun-kissed hair to my unpainted toes and then into my eyes with disgust. “Though I see no signs of that grooming now.”

“So you’re here to bring me to New Orleans to marry Roman. Is that what you’re really saying?” I knew this arranged marriage had been contracted between our families when Roman and I were children, but it had been years since then. My life in the royal circuit was over. Over.

“Well, not right away. We have an image to uphold, of course. We will have to announce an engagement and proceed from there. It will take some time. But yes, I am here to bring you to Roman so we can begin the proper illusion.”

His words sunk in and were like a punch to the gut. “You’ll kick my mother out on the street if I don’t play along with your sick game. Is that what you are also saying?” I put my hands on my hips and hunched over to gather the breath that felt was being knocked out of me every single time I looked at Silas’s pompous face. “If I don’t marry Roman, my mother loses her estate. Right?”

“It would be a shame to take such ugly, yet necessary, measures. But correct. If you play nice, I play nice.”

“Does Roman know you are doing this?”

“Roman is aware of his royal duty. He is of royal lineage, and he understands what that means.”

“He doesn’t own me.”

“But he owns your mother,” Silas quickly countered.

“You’re all assholes,” I said quietly, but knew I had no choice.

This fucking duty of mine was a reality I couldn’t escape, and Silas was right when he said there was no running from it. Even if I didn’t care about my mother and her well-being—which I did—I would still have been trapped in this destiny. They would find a way. The royals always got what they wanted. Royals were the rulers of the fucking world. They ruled everything and everyone.

“Call me what you will. I have a job to do just as you do.” He glanced around. “It doesn’t look like there is much worth packing, if anything, but if you find it necessary to do so, make quick time. We have a plane to catch.”

“Fucking asshole,” I murmured under my breath as I too looked around the rented room. Silas was right. There wasn’t anything worth packing. Not for the world I was about to return to. Nothing in my Costa Rican vagabond bungalow would be fitting for my royal homecoming.

Chapter Two

Roman

I never got to see her pussy. A mistake I damn well planned on rectifying. I never got to lick it, taste it, and savor the essence that was my sweet Cheri. Or what had been my Cheri. But she had finally returned.

It was about fucking time.

And as she entered through the mahogany double doors of the exclusive, members-only club, Spiked Roses, I knew that pussy of hers would soon be mine. Silas followed close behind her tiny frame as my dutiful servant, as if preventing her from turning around and fleeing, but I didn’t care. I was going to imagine that she entered the club of her own free will because she wanted me. She wanted to fuck me, as I wanted to fuck her. I was going to imagine she had never left me without saying goodbye. And that she hadn’t ripped my soul into a million pieces the day I had found her gone.

Maybe she didn’t want to fuck me yet. But no matter… when I was done with her, she would demand for me to take her. Insisting for me to do to her what I hadn’t had the skill and experience to do so many years ago. She would beg, she would plead, and she would be mine, and stay mine forever. I would not lose her again.

A black dress that showed off every single curve of her body had me doing a double take. When did Cheri get curves? And her hair… when did her luscious blonde curls frame her heart-shaped face making her appear like a seductive angel—a siren calling me toward my death? Her shapely legs in those black heels went on forever. Straight to that pussy I had yet to see. Fuck me; she was hot as hell. When did her blue eyes sparkle so much? Even in the shadowed room of Spiked Roses, I could see them. I could feel them. Those damn eyes. She appeared so pure and innocent. Perfect for me to dirty up. She would be fucking filthy by the time I was done with her.

Cheri was taking it all in. I could see her examine every detail of the room. Her eyes scanned the red and black leather furniture, the black bar with red barstools, and the black spiked vases cast all around that held two to three dozen roses in each ostentatious urn. She glanced up to look at the huge crystal chandeliers that appeared as if they were dripping diamonds onto the clients below. The large overhead fixtures reflected the gas lanterns that dotted the damask papered walls, giving off a warm and seductive vibe. Cheri’s eyes scrutinized the men who sat around sipping on top-shelf booze and smoking hand-rolled cigars as if she were looking for me amongst the powerful players of the room.

Silas placed his hand on Cheri’s upper back to guide her to where I sat. I hated it. I didn’t want anyone else touching what was mine. Even old man Silas. No one touched what belonged to me. I knew women were not allowed past the guarded doors without an escort unless you worked at the club, so Silas was a necessity, and he knew exactly where I would be. It was the spot I liked most—up on the iron-railed balcony so I could see all the action below. The club was where I spent most of my nights when I resided in New Orleans. It was my kingdom where I preferred to rule. It was opulent, luxurious, exclusive, and only opened its doors to the wealthiest men. Power sizzled through the air, and I fucking got off on it. Spiked Roses was a membership only club for the monarchs, the presidents, the captains of industry, and for the most ruthless fucks in the world.

“What has you scowling over there?” my friend and business partner, Lennon, asked in his pristine British accent as he sipped on bourbon and smoked a cigar without a care in the world. And what was there to care about? We were rich, affluent, and dominant. We had everything that made a man, but could also destroy him. We had it all.

But I didn’t have her. Not until now.

“My wife just walked in the door,” I said as I puffed on my cigar and swirled the bourbon against the inside of the glass I held.

“Your wife? What the fuck are you talking about?” Lennon asked, smirking.

“She will be. She’ll be my fucking wife soon.”

“Is that your new dickhead way of saying the girl you plan to fuck tonight just entered the room?” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I don’t think I’d be calling any girl in this room my wife. Fuck buddy, yes. Even an expensive whore. But wife? No.”

Lennon was right. Normally, I wouldn’t be calling any female in this place my wife. Not here. Not ever. Spiked Roses was notorious for its beautiful women who worked at this fine establishment I had a seventh ownership in. Six other men and I had joined forces to create a haven for our wicked desires and opulent tastes. The waitresses, the bartenders, the wine and cigar sommeliers, and the high-priced courtesans were all exquisitely gorgeous. Like everything in this men’s club, no expense was spared, and we had the very best—women included. And I sampled my fair share. But I still wouldn’t call a single one of them my future wife. That title belonged to one person. It had belonged to one person since I was ten years old. It would always belong to my sweet Cheri. Whether she liked it or not, she would be my wife.

I shook my head. “You are about to meet my new princess.”

I studied Cheri as she sashayed her way up the stairs, her hips moving in such a seductive way that my mouth watered. She appeared irritated, but it didn’t hinder her beauty in the slightest.

Cheri’s first words as she approached us proved how very unlike a princess she really was. “Are you fucking kidding me, Roman? What the fuck kind of place is this?”

Her dirty mouth…

I prayed to God that everything about her was dirty.

But I would punish her for her behavior. Yes, I would spank that tight little ass like the naughty girl she was and then lick her heated flesh inch by inch as I took away the burn. I would teach her what happens when she was a dirty girl around me. And I would love every fucking moment of it. She would beg for forgiveness all while pleading for me to fuck her at the same time.

Yes, I had so many plans for my dirty, foul-mouthed girl.

Cheri looked around at all the working women in disgust. Her eyes and expressions always gave away her thoughts. I could read her. I could feel her. I could fucking smell her. And very shortly, I would taste her. That pussy would be mine. She just didn’t know it yet.

Or maybe she did.

“I thought you were better than this overly masculine display of assholeness. Sipping bourbon with a cigar in your hand as scantily-clad women work the room? Is this who you’ve become? Really?”

Clearly, Cheri was not a fan of the costumes the staff wore. There were two. One costume was a back leather leotard worn with a collar attached to a jeweled leash hanging for any of the dirtier clientele to take hold of at will. Black, slick, delicious. The other costume was a short red lace dress accentuated with diamonds, classier for the more upscale and prudish guests. Sexy, sensual, mouthwatering. The women were everywhere, just waiting to serve every man’s needs and desires.

I shrugged and gave a smirk. I refused to give her comment a verbal response. I took a pull of my cigar and slowly exhaled in her direction as I casually slung my arm over the back of my black leather chair and stared into her azure, yet fiery eyes.

“And sending Silas to come fetch me for you,” she continued, “like some dog. Would you like me to wear one of these collars as well?”

My cock twitched at the image in my head, and I had to sip on my bourbon to attempt to keep my ravenous thoughts to myself. But fuck yes, I wanted Cheri to wear one of those collars. Though only I would hold the leash.

“Are you going to sit there and just stare at me, or at least offer me a seat and a drink?”

Lennon—who I had forgotten was sitting next to me—stood up and placed his empty glass on the table. “I’m going to leave you alone to deal with your marital problems in private,” my cunty friend said with a smirk and a light chuckle.

I gave him a nod, trying to hide my amusement with his statement. I then pointed to his red leather chair he vacated, and said to Cheri, “Of course. What can I get for you to drink?” I pointed to another chair. “Silas, please have a seat as well. I’m sure you could use a stiff cocktail after your long travels.” No doubt the man got an earful from this little pistol the entire way. He deserved not only a drink, but also a raise for his troubles.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” Cheri said as she sat down and crossed her shapely legs.

I wanted them open—wide. But that would come later.

“Silas?” I asked.

“The same, sir. Thank you.” The older man sat down wearily as if he had traveled for years on his quest to bring me my long-lost prize.

I signaled for three new bourbons since I could already tell I would need another simply to extinguish the flames burning inside of me. I was in the same room with her again. And just like that, she had my insides gripped in her hands, twisting them until I was nothing but a prisoner under her control.

“Why did you bring me here?” Cheri asked.

“I like Spiked Roses. So many of those other exclusive clubs are entirely too stuffy. Too many rules, too many old bloods—”

“I wasn’t talking about the club,” she interrupted with annoyance lacing every syllable of her words. “To New Orleans. To you!”

I glanced at Silas who was watching a waitress wearing a leather leotard dip elegantly down to her knees as she submissively delivered drinks to a nearby table. I could see the devilish twinkle in his eye. Dirty old bastard.

“Didn’t Silas tell you?” I asked as I took one last puff of the cigar and put it out so I wouldn’t blow the smoke into Cheri’s face.

“His reason why is absolutely ridiculous.”

“I wouldn’t say ridiculous. Archaic maybe, but regardless, it is part of royalty. You know this. You have always known this.”

“That was years ago. We were children. I’ve left. I haven’t been in this world for years.” Cheri paused when another waitress, dressed in red lace this time, delivered our glasses of bourbon. After we all took our drinks, Cheri continued by saying, “You can’t possibly be all right with this whole arranged marriage idea.” She glanced around. “You don’t seem like marriage material to me.” She took a swig of her bourbon. “Hell, I’m not marriage material.”

“You might think you aren’t marriage material. But you are definitely fucking material,” I stated bluntly. “And that is all that matters to me. I couldn’t care less about all the wifely duties or royal princess obligations that would be expected of you. That is everyone else’s job to be concerned about. All I care about is if you are fuckable.” I smiled at her shocked expression. “And yes, my sweet Cheri, you most certainly are fuckable in every way.”

“You are still the same asshole you always were.” She took another drink of her bourbon.

I had to hand it to her. She didn’t lose her temper. My crass words hadn’t upset her at the level I expected them to. In fact, she was so calm that I wondered if she was plotting her next move for the kill.

I raised an eyebrow before sipping my own drink. “And if I remember correctly, you were fuckable way back when. And I was fuckable to you as well.”

“Because we fucked?” she asked with a devilish grin. “If you call missionary position under the blankets with the lights out fucking,” she said, chuckling against the glass at her lips, “then I feel sorry for you and the sex life you must live now.”

Touché. The girl was still as witty as ever. And once again, my cock jerked with the knowledge that she too wanted more out of fucking than vanilla, concealed, bashful banging like two innocent, naïve teenagers would do. She just revealed to me that she wanted to really fuck. And I was just the man to give it to her.

Silas cleared his throat. “Sir, if you don’t mind. I think I will go find a seat at the bar and give you two some time to catch up.”

I nodded at Silas with a large smile. “Go right ahead, my man. Order whatever you want. Just add it to my account. Cigars, booze”—I cleared my own throat—“ladies. Whatever you want. You earned it. You delivered my soon-to-be wife safe and sound. There’s vodka and caviar in the ice room. Also, I have my own keep in the humidor room that you are free to utilize. I do know you enjoy those luxuries from time to time.”

I didn’t have to tell Silas twice. Before I could continue, he was up and excusing himself with as much etiquette as a dirty old bastard on a mission could do.

“I see you are still the spoiled rich boy you always were,” Cheri said as Silas left.

“Rich man,” I corrected with some force. “I am an extremely rich man. And it won’t be long until you’ll see how much of a man I truly am.”

“By forcing me to marry you? Or by forcing me to fuck you?”

“Oh trust me, my Cheri. I won’t be forcing the fucking. You’ll be begging for it.”

“Ha!” she snorted. “You are so full of yourself, Roman.” She shook her head, but I could see the smile she was struggling to hide. She’d always liked when I was an arrogant asshole. It had amused her.

“You miss me. Admit it,” I said as I reached out for her thin and delicate fingers.

She glanced at my hand but didn’t take it. “No. Not in the slightest.” Her lip quivered. It always quivered when she lied. She was still so easy to read. Some things never changed.

“You do. You may have left to play hobo in Mexico, but you miss this. You miss me.”

She shook her head again, but her lip still quivered. “Costa Rica. I was in Costa Rica, and no, I didn’t miss you one bit.” She looked around the club and sighed. “I definitely didn’t miss this opulent bullshit. That’s for sure.”

I watched her eyes as she perused the room again. “No, you never did like all the fancy shit. But I know you missed me.”

She glanced my way and shrugged as she finished the last of her bourbon in one sensual gulp. I couldn’t help but imagine her swallowing my seed instead.

“Welcome back to royalty, Cheri. Welcome back to me.”

Chapter Three

Cheri

Was it possible to hate a man but want to fuck him at the same time? I couldn’t blame tequila on this one, or the fact that he was a vagabond. Roman was definitely not a Costa Rican vagabond. He was simply an asshole. A sexy as fuck asshole. And the truth of the matter was, I didn’t hate him. I didn’t hate him at all. It practically killed me to admit that to myself. Things would have been so much easier had I truly hated the man.

And he was right. I did miss him. I hadn’t realized I did until the minute I laid eyes on his dark hair. I remembered how it used to curl at the ends after a day of hanging out at the pool sipping on lemon coolers squeezed from fruit we had picked fresh off the royal grounds ourselves. And his brown eyes. I remembered how they used to stare into mine with such a boyish naivety when we were young. And his smile. It had always been so easy to make him smile and laugh. There was no effort at all in getting Roman to release a big belly laugh that always made me giggle right alongside of him. He was my best friend. We sometimes would play with Roman’s brothers, but they were older than we were and always preoccupied with something else. We were basically all we had in the crazy and sheltered lives we were forced to live—almost as if we were rare birds trapped in a gilded cage. As children growing up—only two years apart in age—we knew we were arranged to be married. Everything was planned out for us to the finest detail. Not a single decision was to be our own. But we paid little attention to all that stuffy nonsense at that age. All we cared about was playing, having fun, and running wild while the palace staff had to chase us down. It had been the perfect childhood. Our idyllic kingdom.

Then we grew up. Friendship got confusing—really fucking confusing. We had sexual urges, and desires we couldn’t understand. Hanging out at the pool was different. It felt different. Our eyes wandered and lingered in places we both had never paid attention to before. We both wanted more. And eventually we had more. So much more. Prince Roman was my first kiss at the age of sixteen under a starry sky with the call of gulls and slap of waves in the background creating our soundtrack. He was my first sexual experience at the age of eighteen in one of the guest rooms in the palace during one of the many parties the palace hosted. We both had a little too much to drink, but it had felt right… it was right. Prince Roman was my first everything.

And here he was—years later. Sitting in a leather chair with the twinkling chandelier above his head casting little rays of light that highlighted his perfectly chiseled face. No doubt that beneath his black suit, with his collar opened just enough to show his rich sun-kissed skin beneath it, his body was just as chiseled.

I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted a vagabond in a coastal bar in the midnight hours, and that was truly saying something.

“My mother. Why?” I asked as a lump formed in the back of my throat. “Silas told me you purchased the estate to save it from foreclosure, and that you are funding her lifestyle.”

The cocky smirk washed off his face as he took a slow sip of his drink. Was he buying time to come up with the right answer? “It’s no big deal.”

But it was a big deal. A very big deal.

“May I have another drink?” I asked, not knowing what else to say. Should I thank him? I certainly couldn’t have saved the estate nor keep my mother in the lap of luxury. I had a trust that I’d sworn I’d never touch, determined I could make it on my own. But, even if I did liquidate it, the money wouldn’t have made a dent in what was no doubt owed. But then because of Roman’s act of kindness, he owned me. He had the control. He knew what he was doing. He knew. This was all a calculated plan. It was how the royals worked. Everything about them had always been calculated, and clearly Prince Roman was no different than the rest.

“So why? Why did you do it? So you could force me into marrying you? Blackmail of sorts?”

“Is that what you think?” he asked calmly. “That I would force you into marrying me?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

Roman didn’t answer my question but rather signaled for the waitress to bring us more drinks. This was dangerous. Bourbon and Roman were going to lead to bad things. Very bad things. I could feel it.

“Are you still writing?” he asked.

“Some.”

“Isn’t that why you left? To try to find your Hemingway? Why are you only writing some?”

I shrugged. “Does it really matter? Clearly I’m destined for other things.” I lifted my hands up and pointed at my surroundings. “I get to be here. With you, instead. Lucky me.”

“You are lucky.”

I snorted. “So you say.” I smiled at him and licked my lips. “Is that because I get to marry you?”

“No, because you get to fuck me. You don’t know how lucky you are. But you will. Soon.” His drop-dead smile returned.

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch.”

“I just speak the truth. You always liked that about me.”

God, there were so many things I liked about him. But he was right. I always had appreciated his straightforward honesty. I may not like what he’d say, but I did know that Roman would never lie to me. And through his arrogance, I could always see a genuine charm woven beneath his bravado.

I took a deep breath, not sure I wanted to ask the question I knew I had to ask. “So what’s the plan? How exactly do you see this all going down?”

The drinks arrived, and I watched as Roman laid a hundred-dollar bill on the waitress’s tray. Extravagant bastard, but I’m sure the young woman appreciated it. I also bet she would die to be in my place—destined to become a princess to a wealthy, handsome as fuck, prince.

“You’ve been gone traveling the world, but I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how this goes,” he said as he handed me my drink. “It’s the classic story. You and I are reunited lovers, finally settling down to spend the rest of our lives together. A believable story. The media will find our childhood pictures, document stories that our families and friends tell of us growing up, paint the perfect fairytale romance, and all will be wrapped up in a perfect package. You and I will dress the part, show up at parties hand-in-hand, charity events, pose for planted paparazzi, and do the tango we both know so well.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know this tango. I can’t dance. It’s why I left.”

“I’ll teach you. Remind you of the steps.” Roman smirked as he brought his glass to his lips. “I’ll teach you a lot of things.”

“Ha! Who says I need teaching? Maybe I have a thing or two to teach you. And this tango you speak of sounds uptight and boring. I don’t want to do dinner parties and pose for pictures my entire life.”

“Who said that is all that would be expected of you?” Roman asked with a raise of an eyebrow. “There is so much you don’t know. So much more that will be expected. That I will expect.”

The way Roman stared at me caused my blood to sizzle. A small twinge of excitement beat against my core. He always had that power over me. One look. That was all it ever took. Warmth flooded my face, but even more between my legs. Clenching my thighs tighter, to try to contain the hunger building inside, I glanced away, attempting to see if I could find Silas amongst the patrons sitting at the bar. I wanted the old man to join us again. Anything to break up the sexual energy flowing between Roman and me. A few more sips of bourbon, one more seductive look from this sexy alpha, and it was very likely I would mount that prince’s lap and fuck him in front of all who wanted to watch. I needed old man Silas to babysit us. To babysit me.

“Cheri,” Roman said, drawing my attention back to his handsome face. “Do you want to know what the first thought was that went through my head when I saw you walk through those doors tonight?”

I smiled. “Do tell.” I was sure whatever compliment he gave was going to melt my panties. Roman always had a way with wooing the ladies with his sensual language.

“That I wanted to see your pussy.”

I swallowed hard, trying desperately not to show that his words were making my pussy, which he wanted to see, throb in need.

“I never took the opportunity to really see your pussy before. I plan to change that.”

I sat speechless. What could I say? What could I do? I didn’t even know if I liked what he said. My pussy liked his words… that much was for sure.

“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, stunning me with the way his face went serious and his tone even.

“Excuse me?” My heart skipped, and I wondered if I’d heard him correctly. Would he be so bold to ask something like that of me?

“Open your legs right there. Where you sit. Now.”

I glanced around our surroundings, as if the only reason I wouldn’t follow his command was because someone would see me.

“No one is up here right now. No one will see. Just me,” he assured.

“You’ve got to be kidding, I’m—”

“Now,” he interrupted. “I want to see your pussy. Spread your legs.”

What the fuck was wrong with me? His dominance. His command. Everything about the way Roman said the words, the way he sat, and the way his hungry eyes waited for me to comply turned me on like I had never been turned on before. I wanted to do what he asked. As crazy as it sounded, I wanted to spread my legs. I wanted him to see my pussy. I wanted him to see what I had to offer—remind him of what he once had.

“The waitress—”

“Isn’t here,” he countered. “Unless you would like her to be. Do you want to show her your pussy too?”

“Roman…” I said, barely louder than a squeak.

His look changed, and that was all it took. His eyes darkened. His face hardened. Something about the way he glared into my eyes told me he was serious, and I was to follow his sexual command. He expected submission.

And fuck me; I wanted to give it.

Very slowly, I eased my legs open. My black dress bunched high on my thighs as I revealed the fact that I wore no panties beneath the dress. Had I done so on purpose? Maybe. I liked not wearing panties. It was a dirty secret that only I knew, and I liked it. It was my secret… until now. Roman could clearly see I wore no panties as I spread my legs before him.

I could see his chest heave as he took a deep breath. His eyes drank in my sex, no doubt glistening with my desire. The cool air of the room made contact with my wet flesh, heightening my arousal even more.

“Like that?” I teased. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Wider,” he commanded, never breaking his glare from my needy sex.

I did as he asked, spreading my legs as wide as the tight fabric of my dress would allow.

“Do you like what you see?” My voice came out low and husky. I couldn’t believe I was engaging in such a wanton act, but it thrilled me, heightened all my senses, and made me want to do more. I wanted to be a very bad, bad girl. Roman brought a lustful harlot out from my etiquette-trained good girl self.

“Stand up,” he said as he stood and placed his glass on the table near us.

I closed my legs, feeling as if I were in a daze induced by his masculinity. Who the fuck was this man? And what a man he was. Roman took my glass and sat it next to his as he reached for my hand, pulling me to standing. I brushed down the material of my dress so it covered all my private parts again, though a part of me was disappointed that my voyeuristic act had come to an end.

“Come with me,” he said as he led me toward a hallway in the far corner of the upper level. I hadn’t noticed it before, but with all the shadows of the club and the nooks and crannies, I was pretty sure I had only touched the surface. I assumed there was so much more to Spiked Roses.

“Where are we going?” Did I even care? Not really, but it still felt like a question one would ask when being escorted down an unfamiliar hallway.

Roman didn’t answer my question, but led me to a door and swiped a card into the keypad. There was a click of the lock pad, and he opened the door to what appeared to be like any other five-star hotel room, but on steroids. A large king size bed mastered the room. Floor to ceiling windows looked out onto the skyline of New Orleans, acting as the only needed art in the room. Damask wallpaper kept with the baroque feel of the club, but the reds and blacks were offset with golds and warmer tones. A crystal chandelier, like the ones in the club, hung over the lush bed, beckoning me with its jeweled ambiance. It smelled of money. If felt like riches. The room would give any capitalist an instant hard-on. It figured this members-only men’s club would have rooms of this magnitude. Clearly, no expense was spared for its patrons.

And, of course, Roman would have access to one of these rooms. I expected nothing less from the prince.

He ushered me into the room, the sound of the door closing behind us sending a tantalizing chill down my spine. Had I just crossed the threshold of no return? Or had I truly crossed that threshold the minute I walked into Spiked Roses?

Without having the time to process what being in a room alone with Roman again would mean, I was pushed against the wall, followed by Roman’s lips descending on mine. His forceful kiss almost stole what little reason I had left, though a small voice still barely remained.

“Roman… we are like strangers again. We can’t. We shouldn’t,” I breathlessly said between the attacking kisses.

“Be quiet,” he ordered, and then thrust his tongue into my mouth, dancing it with mine. Just as my knees threatened to buckle, he pulled away from the kiss to say, “I don’t want to hear another word unless it’s you begging me to fuck you hard.”

A tinge of defiance surfaced as I said, “Roman…” but then was quickly extinguished when he flipped me around, yanked up my dress, and spanked me on the ass, hard.

“Say nothing, or I will punish this ass of yours,” he said as he ran his palm over my naked flesh, caressing all the way down to my upper thigh. Pushing his body against my back, he brought his lips to my ears and nibbled as he said, “Only words allowed from you are pleas of mercy, or sexual demands for more.”

I felt the signs of my arousal trickle down my inner thigh. I had never been so wet, and as I thrust my ass out for more of his touch, I mewled in delight when his caressing palm made its way to my wet pussy.

“You like being a bad girl, don’t you?” he asked as he ran his finger along the seam of my sex, collecting my juices that revealed my need for more.

I shook my head, trying so hard to fight the urge. The urge to fuck Roman like no woman had fucked him before. But I wasn’t in control, and Roman proved that fact once again when he slapped my pussy. The sting, mixed with pleasure, caused me to gasp, yet press my body into his hand, silently pleading for more.

“You like your cunt spanked, don’t you, dirty girl?” he asked, inches from my face. He swatted my pussy again, only making my arousal surge from deep within my core, soaking his hand with my essence. “I can feel that you do. I can smell that you do.” He removed his hand, spun me around so I was facing him, and then brought his finger to his lips and sucked my juices while staring into my eyes. “And I can taste that you do.”

My dress was bunched up at my waist, my bottom half completely exposed, but I only stood awaiting Roman’s next move. I glanced down and could see that Roman’s cock tented his pants. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him. He liked what he saw. He liked what he smelled. And he definitely liked what he tasted.

He brought his lips to mine and kissed me again with even more passion than before. I could hear the unfastening of his belt, the lowering of his zipper, and the soft growl that escaped his lips when he gracefully shed himself of his clothing, never breaking the assault on my mouth. I stood helpless, barely touching him as if my arms and hands were numbed by the intense pleasure suffocating my soul.

We had never kissed like this before.

Never.

I had never hungered for him like this before.

Never.

He had never overpowered me with such animalistic actions before.

Never.

“Take off your dress,” he said. “Then go lie on the bed, and spread your legs wide so I can see that sweet pussy of yours again.”

I was powerless to resist his commands. His husky voice was like a cadence to my uncontrolled march to do exactly as he asked. Walking toward the massive bed, I lifted my dress above my head and discarded it as I climbed up on top of the mattress. Pressing my back to the array of pillows, I slowly spread my legs as I had done before. This time, because I was completely nude, there was no restriction on how wide I could go.

Roman stared between my legs hungrily as his naked frame approached the foot of the bed. My eyes dipped down at his hardened dick. I had never really taken the time to look at his cock before. I had been too shy, too timid, and too inexperienced to feel comfortable to really look. As if looking at his penis in the past was somehow wrong, scandalous, and inappropriate. But not now. Now, I would look. Now, I would soak in the deliciousness of the man before me. I would taste that cock. I would lick every inch of it and not be timid in the slightest.

“Gorgeous,” Roman purred, climbing onto the bed and then between my legs. “I like seeing that pussy of yours. I can see you’re wet.”

A tinge of humiliation only sparked my arousal more. I liked being exposed. I enjoyed the feeling of vulnerability.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I’m wet.” I opened my legs even wider as Roman placed a hand on each one of my knees.

“I’m about to make you much wetter,” he said as he dipped his head between my legs and kissed my pussy softly.

A loud moan escaped my mouth as I closed my eyes and arched my back. I had no control of my actions. The need for pleasure overtook. The tip of his tongue licked my clit, but only for a second. The contact wasn’t long enough to give me the satisfaction I so desperately craved. Roman licked down one side of my pussy, and then back up the other side, his breath hot against my aching flesh. I clutched at the bedspread as his tongue once again found my clit, and he began to circle, suck, lick, and draw my sexual need to a different level of intensity.

“I knew you would taste good,” he said, only inches from my sex. “I knew I would become addicted to your juices the minute my tongue could finally lick you.”

“Stop talking,” I said breathlessly as I reached down and pushed his head into my hungry pussy. I wanted more. I needed more than just the tease of his tongue.

Roman resisted my weak attempt of dominance and looked up at me from between my legs with a devilish grin and mischief in his eyes. I recognized that look, and a shiver went through me at the thoughts of what he would do to me.

With very little time to imagine the possibilities of what was to come, Roman smacked his palm down on my pussy. “I see my fiancée needs a lesson in patience.” He then thrust his finger deep inside of me, causing me to cry out.

“Tsk, tsk, my love. But I shall give you a lesson you won’t soon forget,” he said as he pulled out his finger from my tight hole.

Roman raised his hand, his finger slick from my arousal, and swatted my pussy again. I flinched and moaned at the same time, thrusting my mons to his hand, desperate for more. He then thrust his same finger back inside of me, invading my pussy again.

“Yes,” I moaned, not being able to say anything else. Conscious thought had begun to leave my body.

Roman pulled out his finger again, spanked my pussy, thrust his finger back inside, and then spanked my pussy again. Over and over, he repeated the wicked act. A moment of pain, quickly replaced with pleasure. Sting versus sensuality. Carnal lust versus erotic stimulation. I couldn’t decide which one I preferred, though Roman didn’t give me much time to choose. The pussy spanking and finger banging continued until I was worked up to a frenzied state. I needed Roman’s cock as much as I needed the air to breathe.

“Please,” I begged.

“Yes,” he said as he replaced his one finger with two. “Say it again. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please, Roman. I need you.” I arched my back and thrust my hips up, driving his fingers deeper inside of me.

Two fingers in my pussy became three as he stretched me wide, mercifully preparing me for his girth. On my gasp of delight, he pulled out his coated fingers and spanked me on my punished mound again. He coated my bare pussy with the signs of my craving to be fucked. I glanced down and noticed my glistening flesh as Roman lowered his head to my pussy again. Locking his eyes with mine, he stuck out his tongue and licked my juices off my throbbing mons, being sure to cover every inch. The wet warmth of his tongue cooled the sting from his sexual chastisement, and although punished for my crimes, I had no more patience than I’d had before.

“Fuck me,” I said, not sure I could stand another minute. I needed him now. I had to have him inside of me now!

Chapter Four

Roman

Those were the words I wanted to hear. I wanted her to beg for me. I wanted her body to demand more from me. And though I’d known I would have her hungry for my touch by the end of the night, I’d had no idea she would be so receptive so quickly. But my throbbing cock had surprised me with how much I hungered for her as well. The sexual chemistry, the lustful energy was off the charts. I had never wanted to have my dick shoved up a sweet pussy like hers this badly in my life. What we’d had before when we were young was nothing like this. What had been merely an ember in the past had now turned into a full-blown inferno.

The essence of Cheri was stronger than any drug, and I could have feasted on her cunt all night. I could have licked her until my tongue turned raw, but the naked beauty before me begged. She pleaded. And I was damn well going to deliver. Playtime was over; I was ready to fully claim what was mine. What had always been mine.

Not being able to stand another minute of not being inside her, I crawled up on top of her panting body and devoured her mouth with mine as I pressed my dick to her wet entrance. “Can you taste yourself on my lips?” I murmured against the kiss. “Can you taste how badly you want me?”

When she returned my kiss with full passion, wrapped her legs around my hips, and clung her tiny hands to my shoulders, nails digging into my flesh, I was undone. On a growl I could no longer contain, I buried my cock into her balls deep.

Fuck me, she was so damn tight. I remembered she had always been tight, though then she had been young, virginal. But she was still so fucking tight. And now as an experienced man, I could truly appreciate what a goddamn gift that was. She had a pussy meant for a mighty king, and it was now going to be mine. She was mine.

Her tiny mewls and moans fueled me. I began to fuck her like I had been dreaming of so many nights for so many years. In and out, hard then soft, possessing every inch of her core. It seemed as if my cock doubled in size when her moans grew louder, and I could see an orgasm was nearing. Reaching down with one hand while I still pushed and pulled my dick inside her tiny hole, I played with her clit, heightening her pleasure so she could explode around me.

“Come for me,” I ordered, loving to tell my Cheri what to do. I loved how her eyes seemed to glass over and the way she bit her lip when I showed even the smallest bit of dominance. Her submissive nature, locked deep inside, wanted to emerge. I could see it, and I definitely could feel it.

Her breathing hitched, her eyes closed, her body tensed, and my Cheri let out the most beautiful cry. A cry that became my undoing. With a few more forceful thrusts, my balls ached, and I could no longer hold back. I came hard in what would soon become my wife as her pussy still pulsated around my cock.

We remained silent for several moments as we both gathered our breaths. I placed small kisses on her shoulder, wondering how long until she would be ready for round two. I was already growing hungry for her again. I wondered if my appetite would ever be satiated with Cheri in my life.

“I should probably get going,” she said as she tried to slide from underneath the weight of my body. “I know how news travels, and I would hate for my mother to find out I’m in New Orleans by someone else besides me. She still thinks I’m a hobo in Mexico.”

“Your mother is in Greece right now,” I informed as I rolled over to my side, still gripping her hips to prevent her from escaping. “There’s a gallery opening by another bored countess friend of hers. She should be there for a couple of days. But I’m sure she will dive into wedding planning the minute she returns.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked, looking up at me with her big blue eyes. “You really want to get married.”

I smiled, leaned in, and kissed her forehead. Her disheveled hair gave her such an adorable appearance that a part of my heart melted for her. It was a welcome feeling to have something other than my dick controlling all the emotions of the night.

“That was the plan,” I said softly. “Is that really so bad?” I asked the question, but I knew the answer. She may be playing resistant, and she was definitely a flight risk, but I knew deep down there were feelings there. She wouldn’t have left Costa Rica and been in my bed unless she was open to the idea of following through with our ordained arrangement. She was programmed, just as I was, to fulfill her royal duty. You could escape many things in life, but escaping your destiny… one that had been planned out for you practically since birth, was not one of them.

“Settling down? Is that what you want? I can’t see you settling for anything. You don’t come across as someone who is all right with boring married life,” she said.

“Trust me, Cheri,” I began, not wanting to reveal all my dark secrets quite yet. “Nothing about what we are about to do will be boring.”

“All the grooming. The training on how to be a proper princess.” She sighed deeply. “Makes me want to poke my eyeballs out just thinking of it. I’m not the uptight, strait-laced woman needed for this role.”

“Again… trust me,” I said as I gave her a kiss to her forehead. “The training I will expect from my proper princess will be far from uptight and strait-laced.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, tilting her face so she could look into my eyes. “I feel like you are keeping something from me.”

I smiled, enjoying the sparkle in her eyes and the pout of her lips. With the smell of sex still in the air, all I could do was squeeze her tight so I wouldn’t reveal everything right away.

“Baby steps. We can’t dive in all at once. We are just at the reuniting stage of this story. Let’s take a moment to enjoy it.”

“And where? Where are we supposed to have this luxurious wedding?” she continued, not wanting to take my suggestion. Obviously her mind was operating at a million miles a minute, not that I blamed her.

“In New Orleans,” I said without pause. “At The Audubon Manor where we spent so many of our vacations. We loved it there.”

“Why not France or London? Or doesn’t your father want it to be—”

“My father has no say in what I do or where I get married,” I interrupted a little too harshly. “I have no intentions of leaving New Orleans. They can come to us.”

“This all seems unreal,” she said softly.

“Everything about our lives is unreal, Cheri. You know this. Nothing has changed.”

Cheri yawned and snuggled into my body. “I’m really tired,” she said against my chest. I tightened my arm around her tiny frame and pulled her in closer. “I just need to sleep. I can’t take this all in right now.”

Kissing the top of her head, feeling a bit disappointed that I couldn’t ravish her body again before sleeping, I said, “Yes, sleep, love.” Positioning my body to also get some sleep, I smiled when I could already hear the deep breathing of her peaceful slumber.

Chapter Five

Cheri

I was pretty sure I looked like a hooker sneaking out of the room with my heels in hand. It was in the middle of the night, but Spiked Roses was still in full swing. Without having Roman by my side, I completely felt out of place in this men’s membership only club and couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.

“Well lookee here,” a thick southern accented voice called from behind me. “I heard a little blonde banshee stormed in here confronting his royal majesty like she owned the joint. I figured it was you, but I needed to see it with my own eyes.”

I spun on my heels and rushed to my old friend, Tennessee Charles, to give him a hug. I would recognize his twang anywhere. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I’m the house mum,” he said as he straightened his tie that accentuated his purple velvet smoking jacket. “I keep this place in line.”

“You’re a madam?” I asked with a laugh. “How in the world did you get yourself hooked up with a place like this?”

“No judgy from you, sugar pop,” he said with a smile and a look of pride in his eyes. “This is a great gig. This is a high class joint run by even higher class people.”

“If you say so,” I countered, still wanting to get the hell out of there, especially before Roman woke up and found me missing. “Just not my scene.”

“Well it’s not Mexico.”

“Costa Rica.”

Tennessee took a step back and examined me from my bare feet to the top of my head. “Latin food and booze did you good, girl. You look all spicy, and from what I can see, our good prince had a hot taste.”

My face caught on fire. Nothing worse than the walk of shame, especially being caught by an old friend you hadn’t seen in years.

The color of my face must have been bright red because Tennessee said, “No reason to be shy. He’s your fiancé and all.”

“Not yet,” I corrected.

“But soon.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why is this just assumed by all?”

He shrugged. “Because it’s your destiny. It’s always been your destiny.”

“Yeah, well what if I don’t want it?”

“Sugar pop, you have a life most would dream of. Or you will. Hell, if I could marry his majesty and wear a tiara, I would. Stop your bitching.”

“You’ve always said that to me,” I said with a smile. “And I’ve always told you that you don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand? You get to be a princess. You get to marry a hot piece of royal meat, and you get to live the dream. I don’t see a down side.”

“Royal life. It’s dry and boring. Suffocating.”

Tennessee let out a loud guffaw. “Oh you have been gone for awhile. There is nothing boring about Prince Roman. Nothing at all.”

I looked around. “Because of this place? Am I supposed to want to marry him simply because he owns a club? That is supposed to fuel my bohemian soul?”

“Not just this place,” he said. “Though Spiked Roses does add flavor to the man.” He paused and studied my eyes for a few seconds. “You’ll see. You’ve been gone a long time, sugar pop. A lot has happened. That boy you played with as a child is now a man. A man who is in line to be a king. That royal path you think is so boring… it’s not. It truly is not.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He shook his head. “I’m not touching that, sugar pop. I know how to keep my tight little ass nice and safe.”

I chuckled. “What? Since I’ve been gone, Prince Roman became someone to be afraid of? Come on. Safe from what?”

“Not my circus, girl. You ask Prince Charming about his dark shadows. Not my story to tell.”

I rolled my eyes at Tennessee’s dramatics but decided to move on. “So how did you end up here? When I left for Costa Rica, you had found yourself a sugar daddy and were flying around the world.”

“Oh that was a few sugar daddies ago.” He stiffened his spine and lifted his chin. “And I decided it was high time I became some other person’s sugar daddy. It was my turn to earn my own money. And keeping the ladies here in line pays good. Pays better than pretending I found wrinkly balls sexy.”

I laughed as I instantly remembered how much I loved this eccentric, and brutally honest man. There were parts about my past that I definitely missed.

“Have you seen my mother lately?” I asked.

He nodded. “I saw her at a cocktail party about a month ago. She’s the same. The perfect, elegant butterfly who knows how to work a room. That woman is at every classy engagement in town. I wish to be her when I grow up—diamond bracelets and all.”

“Yeah,” I said, looking down at my feet. I wondered if anyone knew that it was Roman fronting her the money to be the socialite she was known as.

A loud crash of glasses shattering behind the bar caught Tennessee’s attention. “Well, duty calls. But, sugar pop, if you even dare start planning that wedding without me, I will never forgive you for it.”

I smiled warmly. “You can do it all. You can even be the bride.”

He leaned in and kissed me on each cheek. “I would make a mighty fine blushing bride if I do say so myself.”

* * *

Roman

My dick was hard, and I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet. Last night was only a small sampling of what I knew was to come, and that I would have Cheri like this—naked, begging, desperate for my touch for the rest of our lives. I would make damn sure of it. I knew she didn’t want the royal life married to me out of obligation, and there was a part of me that hated myself for forcing her to be part of a life she couldn’t stand and had escaped from. But I could not lose her again. She was my everything, and after last night, I knew without a doubt we would be together forever.

As I opened my eyes, I could see the sunlight peeking through the drawn curtains announcing it was time to start the day. I already knew Silas had a lot in store for us today to begin this pomp and circumstance.

But first, I needed to have Cheri wrapped around my cock.

Rolling over to sample the sweet taste of her essence again, I was stunned to find her side of the bed empty. Was I really surprised? This was Cheri. She ran. I knew this.

“Fuck!” I said out loud, not that anyone could hear me.

I hopped out of bed and walked over to where I had shed my pants the night before and quickly pulled them over my hips. Operating without coffee, I tried to assess the situation. Where could she have gone? Why would she have left again without saying goodbye? Were the feelings going on between us only one-sided? Could I have been reading her all wrong?

The knock on the door had me releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. Maybe Cheri had left to find some coffee for us. Bless the woman.

I walked over to the door and opened to Silas… not Cheri.

“Fuck,” I mumbled as I walked back into the room with Silas close behind.

“I’ve been greeted many ways, sir, but that one is certainly a new one for me.”

I bent down, reached for my shirt, and pulled it over my head. “You weren’t who I was hoping to see on the other side of the door.

Silas glanced over my shoulder at the messy, yet empty bed and raised his eyebrows. “Where is Cheri?”

“Not here.” I sat on the edge of the bed and began putting on my shoes. I needed to get out of the room and try to track her down.

“Sir, we have a very busy schedule today. I have tipped off the paparazzi of where you will be at noon. You are to be sipping cocktails at Café Blue while cuddling and kissing Cheri!” Silas bent down, picked up my jacket off the floor, and attempted to shake out the wrinkles. “Today is when the rumors are to begin. And then there is tonight. They will be expecting you both.”

I looked up at the old advisor and glared. “I know, Silas. Don’t you think I know this?”

I’d fucking come on too strong and scared her away. Fuck.

“Do you not know where she is?” Worry replaced the annoyance on his face.

“I have no idea, but I’m hoping I can visit our old spots we loved to go to when we were young, and she’ll be at one of them.”

“Sir, allow me to call security and—”

“I got this,” I interrupted. “The last thing Cheri needs right now is to be hounded by men in suits. She’s already a flight risk, but do make damn sure she hasn’t booked a flight out of here.” I looked over my shoulder. “Did you follow through with the other plans?”

“Yes, sir. Everything is taken care of.”

“Good.”

I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed toward the door, knowing that the change in plans was damn near causing Silas to stroke out. He hated when things didn’t go as planned. Hell… so did I.

I couldn’t get out of Spiked Roses fast enough. I needed to find Cheri before her mind got the best of her. I knew she was scared. And I knew a big part of that was me. I was playing as if I was the biggest bad boy drinking my bourbon. The poor girl probably thought I was the biggest dick. And I was one. Cheri deserved better than me telling her I didn’t really care about marriage but rather just fucking. Hell, the woman deserved caviar, champagne, a ten-carat diamond ring and none of the alpha bullshit I threw at her.

Why the fuck was it so hard with this woman? I felt off my game around her. I never had this problem with women, but with Cheri, I felt as if I had to be more, someone better.

Despite what I’d told Silas, I did have an idea where she would go. A couple, in fact. But my first spot was going to be the New Orleans Yacht Club. That had been the place of our first kiss, and always a favorite spot of ours. Cheri loved the yachts. She used to say that she pictured herself in one and sailing around the world reading books as the setting sun dipped behind the large expanse of open water. My Cheri had always been a romantic dreamer. Though even in our youth, she’d dreamed of escape, and all the extravagant boats were like an answer to her dreams.

Chapter Six

Cheri

Lake Pontchartrain possessed a level of blue today that I hadn’t remembered seeing as a child. It truly was a magnificent sight. I maybe hadn’t seen every ocean or lake, but the life I had lived growing up had afforded me the luxuries of travel around the world, and New Orleans was one of my most favorite places. Which when thinking back about my upbringing, and the words of Tennessee, I realized I really did live a life many would only dream of. So why did I feel the strong need to escape? Why, the moment I recovered from the most amazing sex of my life, did I instantly plan my getaway? Was it Roman?

No.

It was Prince Roman. I didn’t want to be with a prince, and I most certainly didn’t want to marry one. I didn’t want to be a fucking princess. I just wanted to sit in some café writing poetry. I wanted no one to know my name, yet still have the money to sip espresso in cafés in Prague and other bohemian destinations.

I snorted as I crossed my arms against my chest. I sounded like an entitled, spoiled brat. I had the opportunities in life that many would love to have. I was lucky… and yet, for some reason I didn’t feel lucky. Why?

With just a quick look around at all the yachts docked at the harbor, I knew it was very likely that I knew many of the owners of these boats. I knew people who made more money while they drank their morning coffee than I ever would winning some poetry prize, and for some reason, I had always felt their wealth was something to despise. Why was having money a bad thing? Why did I put those rich people in a box labeled bad persons? Were these people—though extremely wealthy—any worse than the barista at the coffee shop serving the coffee? Some were awful people. But I knew poor people just as awful. Why did I judge all the people of my past so harshly? There really was no reason.

“I knew you’d be here,” I heard as footsteps approached the pier I was standing on. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Roman.

“It’s always been one of my favorite places,” I said, staring at the seagulls flocking over the surface of the gentle waves. The fishy aroma of the lake filled my nostrils, the humid air wafted against my face, and I did feel a sense of home.

“Why did you leave?” he asked, always getting straight to the point. He walked up to where I leaned against the railing and did the same.

“I needed to get out of there.”

“Obviously. But why?”

That was a question I couldn’t exactly answer. “I don’t know. I just needed to.”

“You owe me a better explanation than that.”

“Why? Because we fucked last night?” I asked.

“No,” he snapped before he took a deep breath to calm down. “Because this is you and me we are talking about. Last night was fun, and I plan to do that to you over and over again, but there is more than just a night of fucking between us and you know this.”

Not wanting to fight, and knowing Roman was right, I nodded. “Yes, you are owed a better answer. I just wish I knew what it was. I have no idea why I am so resistant to this life.”

“Is it me?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Actually, you are the only thing about this entire situation that seems right. But even you aren’t strong enough to make me not want to run. Something inside of me is screaming for me to flee right now.”

Roman didn’t say anything for several minutes. The awkward silence had me racking my brain for something more to say. I didn’t want to hurt him. Far from it. But I feared I had.

“Roman… I’m sorry—”

“Do you remember our first kiss here?” he asked, cutting me off.

“Yes.” It was a moment I would never be able to forget. I don’t think any woman forgets her first kiss, but mine had truly been magical. We’d both been so timid and uncertain, but the minute our lips had connected, I’d known it was right. Everything had been so, so right.

“I knew then I would marry you,” he said. “And not because we had been told that we would wed most of our lives, but because I fell in love with you that day.” He turned his head to look at me, and our eyes locked. “Maybe that is sappy as shit, but it’s the fucking truth, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

“I knew too. Because I loved you,” I admitted softly, not sure if he even heard my tiny voice.

“And I understand why you had to leave. I hated it. I hated that you didn’t say goodbye. But I understood it. You needed to find yourself”—he ran his hand through his hair—“hell, I had to find myself too. We were kids, and in no way were we prepared for marriage. But it’s different now. We are adults and—”

“Yes, but have we found ourselves? Really? I don’t think I have. I think I’m more confused and lost than I was the day I left this city,” I confessed.

“Who’s to say we can’t find ourselves together?” he asked, determination in his eyes. “I’m not going to lie and tell you that I haven’t been with a lot of women. I have fucked more than I can count. I’m not ashamed of it one bit either. I needed to so I would be ready for you. I know you are the woman I am to marry just like I knew when we stood on this same dock and had our first kiss so many years ago.”

I didn’t like hearing of him being with other women, and the green-eyed monster threatened to take over, but I had to shove the jealousy away. I wasn’t exactly pure and virginal either.

“This just isn’t me. I’m not cut out for everything you need out of a princess. A wife.” I had to be honest, and these were the fears banging against my skull and ringing in my ears.

“Why? Because assholes want to take pictures of us? Because we have to show up at parties and shake hands with people? Is it all really so bad that you have to walk away from us? Away from what we could have?” He took hold of my hand. “I’m not going to be king. I have older brothers for that. So, the spotlight is not going to be all that bad. And the main attention I currently get is being the bad boy prince. But once we are married, and I settle down, a lot of the paparazzi attention is going to die down. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I love it all either. I fucking hate it at times. But rather than focusing on the negative, I choose to concentrate on the positive.”

“And the positive is what?” I asked. “Don’t even say money and notoriety because I hate that shit.”

“The positive is you. I concentrate on you.”

His words were like a punch to the gut. Roman truly did care about me. I could see it in the way he looked into my eyes. And when he took hold of my hand and turned me so that we were both facing each other, I could feel the love between us. It had never left. I could put continents between us, but it had never left.

“But if you don’t want to marry me, and if you want to leave on the next plane”—he took a deep breath—“I won’t stop you. I won’t force you into this.”

“Silas said that you own my mother’s house and that—”

“That was to get you here,” he interrupted. “And though it wasn’t right, it was the only way I could think of. But that wasn’t the reason I bought the house. I felt I owed that to you. I didn’t want to see your mother lose everything. Especially when it was a problem that was so easily solved.”

“So if I said no to all this arranged marriage stuff right now, you wouldn’t make my mother leave her house?”

He shook his head. “She’ll never be asked to move, and the monthly stipend will not go away either. She’s been good to my family, and good to me. She’s owed it. There’s a cost to loyalty. A cost I’m prepared to pay.”

I turned, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and stared back out to the sea. No matter what I chose, my mother would be fine. My choices would affect me only. “I thank you for that. For taking care of her.”

“But I do hope you won’t leave. I hope you will stay and not run away this time.”

“And marry you?” I asked.

“Yes, and marry me.” Roman tugged on my hand that he was still holding. “Come with me. There is something I want to show you.”

I walked beside him, hand in hand, as he led me down a couple of stairs to a dock that housed a bunch of luxurious yachts.

“Where are we going?”

“To my boat.”

“You finally bought a yacht? Are you going to be part of the races?” I asked, though I knew Roman had always wanted his very own when he grew up. He hated asking his father for permission to use his.

“I did, and maybe with you by my side.”

“What did you name it?” I asked as I scanned the names of the boats we approached, wondering which one was his.

“Popped Cherry,” he said with a devilish smirk. “Since I popped your cherry and all.”

I stopped walking and yanked my hand away from his in a huff. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He began to laugh. The same kind of laugh that started in the depths of his belly and reminded me of our childhood. “I’m kidding! Kidding!” he said with his hands up in surrender. “I thought about it,” he said between his laughter, “but decided on My Cheri instead.”

Right as he answered the question, he turned and pointed to the large white boat bobbing in the harbor behind him. I saw My Cheri written in elegant royal blue script, beckoning me to come see it. “Oh, it’s lovely.” I was drawn to the magnificence of the ship, and started walking toward it, just dying to hop on board. I had always wanted a yacht, and seeing my name on one was… well… the royal treatment.

“Do you like it?”

“Roman, it really is gorgeous,” I said as I still walked toward it, almost in a daze. “May I go on? Will you show it to me?”

“Of course,” he said as he walked up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

As we boarded the vessel, I could tell that no expense had been spared. It wasn’t garish or over-the-top like some yachts I had been on, but it had excellent craftsmanship. We turned a small corner, and I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a bucket of ice with champagne chilling. Two flutes surrounded by scattered white feathers were next to it. I looked up at Roman to make sure that we hadn’t walked in on someone else’s romantic party.

He smiled and led me to the white leather couch wrapped around the center table near the champagne.

“Why are there feathers?” I asked, not sure why they were cast around. Clearly, Roman was trying to be romantic with the champagne, but the feathers were odd.

“You always said you hated flowers. That they were pretentious. So sprinkling rose petals all around wouldn’t work, and I felt I had to do something so”—he shrugged as he reached for the champagne bottle—“you got feathers. You always take flight like a bird and…”

I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Roman could be so damn irresistible and charming, just as he could be an arrogant asshole. I loved both sides of him. Yeah, I could admit it. I loved Roman.

Roman popped the champagne cork with an ease and grace that only a man who had done it a million times before could do and filled the glasses with the bubbling liquid.

“You had this all planned? How did you know I would be here?” I asked as I took my drink from him.

“I didn’t. I had the harbor on my list. There were about ten other spots where I was going to look for you as well. So there are ten other champagne bottles on ice spread throughout New Orleans. Lots of feathers too.” He took a sip of his drink and casually sat back as he looked at me with a smile. “A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”

“You’re kidding right?” I asked. “Please tell me you are kidding.”

He shrugged. “You’ll never know.”

“Prick,” I teased.

“I can be.” His face grew somber. “I definitely can be.” He leaned forward and placed his glass on the table. “I’m sorry, Cheri. The way I went about getting you here, and the way I acted last night was not fair to you.”

“What was wrong with last night?” I asked. “I remember us having a good time.”

His face lit up. “That it was. But you do deserve better. I didn’t bring you to New Orleans just so I could fuck you at a high-end club.” He smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I definitely wanted to fuck you, but that wasn’t the reason I really wanted you to come back to me.”

I raised an eyebrow in curiosity as I sipped from my glass, enjoying seeing this more sensitive side of Roman. It reminded me so much of the boy of years past who had grown to become a man. Warm familiar feelings—other than the passion and the sexual need of last night—came flooding in.

“I wanted you to come back to New Orleans to marry me. You know this. But just because you do know the royal arrangement, and you always have, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a proper proposal.”

My heart stopped. The pounding started in my head again. My ears rang. I wanted to run. Fast.

No. No. Fight it. Don’t try to escape.

It’s Roman.

Roman lowered himself to one knee and reached for my left hand. “My sweet Cheri, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you please marry me?”

I sat stunned, not once having expected Roman to ever do such a thing. My already opened mouth opened wider when he pulled out a Tiffany-blue box from his pocket. Opening the lid, he lifted out a beautiful diamond ring in a platinum setting. It wasn’t so big that I would hate the obscenity of it, but instead it was the perfect size. It appeared antique in appearance, and I instantly fell in love with it. Roman knew my style through and through—feathers and all.

I nodded with tears in my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was acting like one of those girls. The type who cry at amorous gestures—but I didn’t give a damn. This was the most romantic moment of my life, and if I wanted to cry, I was going to cry. “Yes, yes! I will marry you,” I said as I allowed him to put the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly, which again I expected from Roman. He always covered all his bases.

I put down my glass, wrapped my arms around his neck, and placed my lips to his. I kissed him differently this time. Not out of lust but out of love. When I pulled away after the most tender of kisses, I said, “Promise me that we won’t have a huge wedding. I can’t take that.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that. Your mother is going to go crazy. It’s her I worry about.”

“If I can control my mother, will you promise me that you won’t let all the planners and organizers step in? Please?”

He smiled and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I will promise you if you promise me something.”

“Anything!” I agreed, desperate to avoid a full-blown media circus of a wedding.

“No more running. I don’t want to go to bed every night and worry if you’ll be in the bed the next morning.” He gave me a wink. “I happen to like morning sex.”

I playfully shoved him, but then nodded. “Yes, I promise. No more running. Unless…”

His eyebrows rose and his jaw tightened. “Cheri—”

“Unless we run away together. Together.”

“Together,” he repeated.

“Until death do us part.”

“It shall be our royal duty,” he said as he leaned in and kissed me with all the love of the years past, and all the love still to come. “But,” he said, breaking the kiss. “Now that we have had the light part of this story and did what was needed to officially get engaged, it’s time for the dark side too. I told you that training on how to be a proper princess in my world would be required.”

My eyebrow rose, and I pulled away slightly. “Yes. I remember.” My voice quivered as I said the words, revealing my uncertainty. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“I want you to go home to your mother’s and rest up. I will be there at 8:00 pm to pick you up. The first step of becoming my bride begins tonight.”

Chapter Seven

Roman

“Thanks for coming in to meet with me,” I began as all seven of us took our usual seats.

It was out of the ordinary for me to call a meeting at Spiked Roses, since that was mainly Kenneth or Matthew’s department. Out of the seven powerful men who owned the club, they took the lead. They did a good job running the business side of the club, so the rest of us were perfectly fine with taking a back seat. Spiked Roses wasn’t your normal men’s only membership club. There was nothing stuffy or blue blood about the place. Elite, power, wealth, and sinister delights oozed from every crack in the old building draped in baroque design… but with class.

“What’s this about?” Kenneth asked. Leave it to the man to be direct and straight to the point. He was not one for sugar coating anything or easing into a conversation.

“I’m not sure if you all know this, but I’m getting married.”

“What the fuck?” Harley Crow said wide-eyed. Seeing him so surprised, made me smile. It took a lot to rattle the cages of the killer assassin whom all feared. “I didn’t even know you were hooking up with someone.”

“It’s complicated,” I began. “It’s an arranged marriage that has been planned since I was a child.”

“That shit still exists?” Harley asked.

I nodded.

“Do you need our help getting out of it?” Victor Drayton asked. “I know you are royalty, but I’m sure we can step in and figure this out.”

“I want the marriage.” When I saw all the men’s mouths drop, I added, “I know this sounds crazy, but it is how my family does things. It’s our royal way. But besides that, this chick is everything I could want… or have ever wanted. I have known her my entire life, and I knew this day would come. I know I’m going to sound like some sappy shithead, but I’ve been looking forward to the day that we would both be ready.”

“And you are ready?” Victor asked with skepticism in his eyes. I expected that from Victor. He would never make such an impulsive decision and most likely thought I had lost my fucking mind.

“All right,” Kenneth said. “So why are we all here? Going to ask us to be your groomsmen or something?”

“No wedding plans yet,” I said with a smirk. “That will be its own meeting. But I wanted to tell you all in person that I will be leaving for a little bit. Cheri—my fiancée—and I will be going away.”

I swallowed hard and tried to avoid eye contact with my business partner Alec Sheldon who hadn’t said a word since sitting at the table. I knew what I had to say next would cause the man to explode with rage if I didn’t handle this delicately.

“Cheri. Was that the girl with the wild blonde hair who stormed in here last night?” Lennon asked.

“Her attitude matches her wild appearance,” I said with a Cheshire grin I couldn’t contain.

“Fuck man,” Harley said. “Someone looks whipped.”

I was about to tell Harley that he was one to talk since his balls were under a vise grip with his true love, but I knew better. Whipped by a chick or not, Harley was still not a man to challenge or piss off.

“Where are you going?” Matthew asked, getting back on topic and keeping the business moving forward as only Matthew could do with such ease.

I glanced at Alec, drumming up a way to say what I needed to say but knew there was no easy way. “The initiation.”

Alec’s eyes grew wide and he slammed his hands on the table. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What’s the initiation?” Kenneth asked.

“Tell me this is a joke,” Alec demanded. “You aren’t that stupid.”

I bit back my anger caused by the insult and allowed the man to rage. I understood why. Out of all people, Alec had every excuse for his outburst.

“Can someone please fill us in here?” Kenneth looked at Alec and then at me. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

“Roman is getting back in bed with The Iron Colt Brotherhood!” Alec said, sending daggers my way with his eyes. “Do you want the girl to die? Because she will.”

I took a deep breath. “She’s not going to die. I won’t allow it. Cheri is strong and really smart. She has had to follow so many rules and follow proper etiquette her entire life. She can survive the initiation. Especially when it’s explained why to her.”

“I don’t understand why you would willingly walk into their grips again,” Matthew said, clearly on Alec’s side. I wouldn’t blame each man for thinking the same way as Alec. But it was different for me. I was of royal blood. Rules were not the same. My rules go back centuries. Old, old blood and even older customs.

“I can’t be the first royal to not do the initiation. I know that is hard for you to understand,” I said, looking directly at Alec. “And I know exactly what The Iron Colt Brotherhood is capable of, but whether I like it or not, my bloodline makes up the society. Just as yours does, Alec.” I took another deep breath. “I can’t ignore it. I can’t walk away. I sure as fuck can’t say no to them and what they require. I’m a fucking prince drowning in tradition, in customs. It’s my life and always will be. So yeah, am I thrilled to put Cheri in the hands of the brotherhood? No. But she knows who they are. She knows what they expect. They are her customs and traditions as well.”

“It’s suicide,” Alec said much calmer than before. “And murder if you put her in that situation.”

“I can handle this. She can handle this.” I looked at all the men who had worry washed over each of their faces. “This is my world, gentlemen. I can handle myself in it.” I stood up from the table and straightened my suit jacket. “I’m not sure how long I will be gone. It could be a few weeks or a few months. If you need me in case of an emergency, you can reach me via Silas. He will be the only one aware of our whereabouts.”

“And the man who will tell us where your bodies are buried,” Alec mumbled.

I already knew I wouldn’t be able to convince Alec that participating in any Iron Colt Brotherhood ritual would be a wise decision. But regardless, it was what I had to do. What Cheri had to do. It was our royal duty regardless of the risk.

“Be careful, man. If you need us…” Harley said.

“Silas knows to contact you all if things get fucked,” I said more at Harley than the rest of the men. I knew if anyone could get me out of a death sentence, it would be him.

“Can someone still explain what the initiation is exactly? What are the details?” Kenneth asked.

“I’ll let Alec fill you all in,” I said as I walked toward the door. “I need to go pick up Cheri.”

I left the room without giving them a chance to say or ask anything else. Unless you walked in my shoes, and lived my life, it would be impossible to understand. Ancient rituals were part of my heritage. I wouldn’t be able to escape if I wanted to. But that was if I wanted to… which I didn’t. It was time for the initiation to begin. It would be the first step in making Cheri my wife.

* * *

Cheri

I didn’t have keys on me to my mother’s home, but I was pretty sure she had staff still present. If Roman was supplementing her income—or lack of it—then I couldn’t possibly imagine her not having a full staff to oversee the house. My father had loved New Orleans when he was still alive. It was French enough for him, had European history present that he appreciated, but possessed an American flair that he had simply loved. Prince Roman’s family had believed the same which is why Roman and I had grown up together. We traveled around the world together, but New Orleans had always been home and where we had spent the majority of our time.

Our estate was obviously much smaller than the one Roman’s family owned, but it still was grand in every way. After my father’s death, some had expected my mother and me to downsize, but my mother believed doing so was for commoners—and we were far from commoners in her eyes. My mother was meant to be the princess… not me.

I was happy to see lights on in the house when I pulled up in the circular driveway. After paying the driver, I hopped out with nothing more than my purse. My assumption was that Silas already had my luggage delivered to the house since that man took care of every single detail both big and small.

Before I could knock on the door to have someone allow me in, the door opened and a familiar face stood on the other side.

“Hello, Smith,” I said, hoping I had his name right. My mother had hired him shortly before I left, so I didn’t have a chance to get to know him. She wasn’t one for keeping the help for long. Her demands were hard to fulfill.

“Hello, Miss. Mr. Roope told me to expect your arrival.” He stepped back to allow me to enter the house. “I have your old room prepared for you, and your luggage has been brought up and waiting. I did not take the liberty to unpack unless you would like me to.” His words came out very cold and matter-of-fact, which in all honesty, was not unexpected from a man I barely knew. It wasn’t like he was going to hug me and welcome me home.

“I can do it. Thank you,” I said as I walked into the main room, taking in the familiar setting. My mother was not one for changing décor. She spent a lot of money to obtain the furniture, vases, artwork and every decorative item and took pride in each one. I didn’t expect to find anything out of place, and it actually gave me a sense of comfort, and a sense of home regardless of how cold and sterile that home was. I learned at a very young age not to touch or move anything in the house. Every single item had a place, and it was never to be disturbed unless it was being dusted—which was something only the help did

“Don’t touch the figurines,” my mother had said. “Look with your eyes; not with your hands.”

I turned to find Smith already gone, to do what exactly, I had no idea. Especially with my mother out of town. Taking one last look at a room I had spent very little time in while growing up here and inhaling deeply, I walked toward the massive staircase leading to my room. At least in my own room, I could touch things.

I had a date with the Prince Roman tonight. Cameras, important people, crowds, and all eyes would be on me. I hated the very thought of it, but also knew it was my reality. I guess I should try to look dignified and not like the hobo washed up on the shores of Mexico like many people of my past no doubt expected me to appear.

Just as I took the first step, the front door opened with the energy of a tornado entering the house.

“Cherise! My Cherise,” my mother said as she rushed to me, kissing me on both sides of the face. “When I heard that Silas was going to bring you back from… from—”

“Costa Rica,” I answered for her.

“Yes, Costa Rica. I cut my trip short and chartered the first jet home.” She pulled back to look at me from head to toe. “You’ve managed to not gain weight eating all that Mexican food down there. Good. Good.”

I struggled not to roll my eyes, and didn’t even bother trying to correct her in her assumptions. I had learned a long time ago that efforts to change my mother in her actions or beliefs were futile.

A man in a sharp suit walked in behind her, carrying luggage which I knew was only the beginning. I could bet serious money there were more pieces in the town car parked out front.

“You can leave the suitcases there,” she directed without even looking at the man. “I will have someone take care of those.”

Again, I struggled to not roll my eyes. God forbid my mother actually unpacked her own suitcases or even bothered to wheel a small one into the house. My father had spoiled her, and from what I could guess, her father did as well. My mother didn’t know anything but rich and famous. Unlike me, she never had a desire to walk away from it, even for a short time, to breathe and live a normal life. My mother didn’t know what normal was. Nor did she care. Those beliefs were those belonging to commoners… and yes, yes… we were not commoners.

“So?” she asked. “Is it finally happening?”

I nodded as I held up my finger showing off the engagement ring.

She instantly took my hand and examined the ring. “Well, it is certainly pretty. Classy and elegant. I know young women these days prefer the vintage look, though I do wish the diamond was bigger. Something a little flashier since you are going to be a princess after all. But no worries in that regard. You can always upgrade as an anniversary gift.”

“I like the ring, Mother.”

“Oh yes, I imagine you do.” She took hold of my arm and led me to the room I was just in. This really must be a special occasion because she actually had us sitting down on the couch that was once owned by Louis XIV or something like that. “When did he propose?”

“Today.”

Though my mother was asking me the questions a mother would ask her daughter about an engagement, there was not the kind of excitement you would expect between us. I suppose it was because this engagement was expected.

“And the wedding? Has a date been set yet?”

“No.”

“Good. We need plenty of time. There are going to be a lot of details to arrange. We will have to work closely with the royal family. I do hope they let us hire the wedding coordinator because I know the perfect person. And as for the wedding dress, I already have the designer in mind.”

“Mother,” I said calmly, as I struggled to not snap at her. “Roman and I have to still be engaged for a little while. I need some time to accept and try to enjoy this step. I think planning the wedding before we have even publically announced that we are getting married is a little fast. Please, can we slow down?”

“I know you think you have all the time in the world, but a wedding takes time. We have to get started right away.” Yes, this was my mother. Nothing you could say or do would change her mind. She was always right.

Sighing, I stood. “I need to get ready for my date with Roman.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh this is exciting. By tomorrow morning, the entire world will know that you will soon be Princess Cherise Cassian.”

Princess.

Yes, I would soon be a princess.

Chapter Eight

Roman

Cheri was always stunning in appearance, but tonight even more so. She had a natural beauty that I loved. It was so unlike most women I had been around or saw today. Her wavy hair flowed without restrictions most of the time, but tonight, she had it pulled back in an elegant twist with some wayward waves framing her face. Her bright blue eyes were highlighted with makeup which, even though I loved her au naturel, sparkled mesmerizingly in the light of the foyer of her mother’s house. Cheri wasn’t pretentious which was another thing I loved about her. Her attire was always simple and inexpensive. The girl hated to waste money. But tonight, I could tell she had made an effort to fit in with the royal image with the black dress and black pumps she wore. Classy, elegant, but still so genuine and pure.

“You are absolute perfection,” I said as I leaned in to gently kiss her lips. “When the cameras get a hold of you tonight, every man in the world will envy me.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. “I wish there was a way to avoid the paparazzi. I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“I try to avoid them normally and have gotten pretty good at it. I only use them when I need to. Like tonight. We need the media to get wind that I am engaged. They will spot that ring a mile away, pictures will be snapped, and we will be on the cover of everything tomorrow. Silas is already leaking where we will be tonight. It’s controlled chaos, I suppose.”

“Sounds lovely.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on me.

“And short-lived. After tonight, we will get a break from the flashing lights.”

“Oh really?” she said with a raised eyebrow and a tiny step back—leaving the smell of her perfume behind. “You have this all planned out, do you?”

“I do.”

“So how exactly do you plan to get us away from all the media? I think the minute they know we are engaged, there will be no escaping them. They’ll be camped outside in the front yard.”

“We’ll be going away for a period of time,” I said as if it were a fact and not asking if she wanted to or not.

“Where?”

“I’ll explain over dinner,” I said, ushering her toward the door.

* * *

Cheri

Roman had always been a bossy son of a bitch—part of his makeup as being born into royalty—but age seemed to morph his bossiness to dominance. Sexy as fuck dominance.

The drive to St. Charles Street didn’t take long, and we had sat in silence the entire way. Roman was in the middle of texting, and from the look on his face, it seemed important enough for me to not bother him or give him a hard time for using his phone in my presence. Prince Roman was no longer the child I remembered. He was now a businessman, and obviously a powerful man. I was going to have to get used to that fact, and that his work would have to play a part in our new daily lives. I also didn’t mind the silence. It gave me time to really process everything that was about to happen in my life. I had just agreed to marry a man I had loved my entire life. But he was no ordinary man, and did not lead the life of a normal man. My entire world was about to become organized chaos.

A deep groan erupted from the depths of my chest as we pulled up in front of the restaurant. There were at least twenty or so photographers standing ready with cameras in hand. The flashing had already begun as if they could sense the black town car belonged to us—though I was pretty sure Silas had already tipped them off that we would be arriving and at what time.

“The driver is going to open our door, and security will be waiting to guide us in. I will step out first and reach for your hand. Reach for me with your left hand. We want the first thing they take a photo of to be the diamond ring. As soon as they see it, which will be immediately, they will start asking questions. Don’t answer them. It will be hard to see with all the flashes, so just smile and stare ahead. I will guide you inside and security will be on both sides of us so no one can get too close. Remember, don’t answer any questions or say anything at all. Just walk as if you can’t hear them or see them. Don’t look at them. Just straight ahead or at me,” Roman instructed when the car came to a stop.

I was grateful for the tinted windows to allow me a minute to gather my courage. I had had my picture taken in the past whenever I was in the presence of the royal family, but it had been a long time ago. Plus, this time would be different. All eyes would be on me.

“I don’t know that I can do this,” I confessed. I was about to ask for the driver to keep going when Roman took my face into the palms of his hands.

Staring into my eyes, he said softly, “You can. I will be with you every step of the way. No one is going to hurt you or even come near you. I won’t allow anything to happen. I give you my word on that.”

I nodded, but my heart beat so hard in my chest, I worried that Roman would practically have to carry me inside due to me fainting.

“Once we’re inside the restaurant, the media won’t be allowed to follow. But be aware that there will be several people using their phones to capture our every move. Some will be media professionals acting as patrons, and others will be diners who will upload the video or sell it the minute they can. Don’t let your guard down. Just look at me. Tune everyone else out,” he continued with his firm guidance.

I nodded and swallowed hard. Roman reached out for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.”

The car door opened.

My left hand extended.

I clung to Roman as if my life depended on it.

I smiled.

But nothing could have prepared me for the colossal tidal wave that crashed down upon me. The deafening sound of clicking cameras had my head spinning. The shouts from the photographers were so plentiful that I wouldn’t have been able to answer one question even if I hadn’t been instructed to remain silent. If I hadn’t been guided by Roman’s hand wrapped securely around me, I don’t think I would have made it to the entrance of the restaurant. The flashing lights were blinding, and I struggled to keep my eyes open against the brightness.

“Is that an engagement ring?”

“Are you two engaged?”

“Who is the mystery woman?”

“Prince Roman, are you finally settling down?”

“Will there be a royal wedding sometime soon?”

“What does King Cassian say about the future princess?”

Roman tightened his hold around my lower ribcage and leaned his lips down to my ear. I thought I heard him whisper, “Almost there. You’re doing great. You’re a natural.”

Natural? Never. Never could I ever get used to this madness. But as I glanced up to look upon Roman’s flawless face, and his fake but perfect smile, I knew this was a madness I was willing to live for him. He was my Prince Charming in this dark lunacy, and I would wear my tiara proudly.

We were ushered to a table toward the rear of the room. I could feel the eyes of the diners searing into my exposed flesh. I knew every single inch of me was being judged. Why was I the lucky one chosen to marry a prince? Why did he choose me out of all the women he could choose in the world? What did I have that they didn’t?

Hell if I knew the answer to those questions.

Roman pulled my chair out for me and kissed me lightly on the cheek before I sat. He then took his seat and for the first time since exiting the car, I took a deep breath and smiled. A real smile.

“That was pure insanity,” I said. “Is this really your life?” I tried to keep my voice down, but luckily the diners had gone back to their own conversations, so there was a nice safe hum to the room and my voice wouldn’t be heard by anyone other than Roman.

He returned the smile. “I know this is hard to believe, but you get used to it.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“You will. It sucks, and it definitely changes how I have to live my life, but there are perks as well.”

“You get to live like a king,” I said as I reached for the glass of water in front of me to help soothe the lump that had remained there since the media circus.

“Yes, I get to live like a king.”

“All of this makes me miss Costa Rica. It was quiet there. Relaxing.”

The waiter came to our table and Roman quickly ordered us a bottle of wine, some appetizers and even our dinner. He rambled everything off so quickly that I wasn’t even aware of what I was going to eat. For a split second, the feminist in me got fired up, but the romantic part of me soothed the flames. Roman could be an arrogant prick at times, but the man was a gentleman through and through. Etiquette and manners ran through his veins and had been inbred in his core. The man knew how to treat a lady.

Once the waiter left with our order, he said, “I promise we will vacation in Costa Rica so you won’t miss it for long. It may be shocking to believe this since I’ve traveled most of the world, but I have actually never been there before.” He paused for a moment as his gaze bore into mine. “Why did you go?”

I shrugged. “I had heard it was beautiful and it seemed wild and free. It was a place unlike anywhere my parents took me on holiday. No way would my mother step foot anywhere in South America, so it was the perfect place for me.”

“To rebel,” Roman said.

“To figure out who I was as a person,” I corrected. “It may have seemed like rebellion, but it was a necessity. I felt like the world I was living in was swallowing me whole. Everything was so planned and choreographed. My entire life and future was mapped out for me.”

“To marry me.”

I shook my head and paused as the waiter came to our table and opened our wine. I held my words as Roman tasted the small sample poured into his glass and nodded his approval. When the waiter left, I said, “Why I left had nothing to do with you. I wasn’t running away from you or from marrying you.”

“It felt like it,” Roman confessed.

“I loved you,” I said softly. “So much so, that it scared me. I could see how the women flocked around you. I knew that everyone would have done anything to be your bride. I also knew I was chosen, but not chosen by you. Deep down, I believed that you wouldn’t marry me unless you had to. It was your royal duty.” I took a sip of my wine and took a moment to enjoy the rich flavors dancing along my tongue. “I suppose that I believed at the time that if I sort of vanished, you would figure out a way to marry someone you chose and live your life.” I took another sip, buying time to admit another truth that I wasn’t sure I wanted to share. “Plus, I knew it was unrealistic for us to both marry after only having had sex with each other. At least for you.” When Roman opened his mouth to speak, I cut him off by raising my hand and saying, “Which is completely normal. I couldn’t expect you to never be curious or have desires for other women. You needed that, and frankly so did I. But there was no way my heart would be able to sit back and watch that happen. I didn’t want to see you lie and cheat. It would have destroyed me. So, I left so we could grow up and live life. So we could both experience other things and other people.”

“I allowed you to leave for the same reasons,” Roman admitted. “Trust me, it took all my might to not hop on a plane and chase you down. I knew I could have demanded your return and most likely had gotten my way, but I knew you needed time to… spread your wings, I guess the saying is.” He took a long drink of his wine and then leaned back in his chair with a devilish smirk. “But I knew it was just a matter of time until you would be mine again.”

Chapter Nine

Roman

“You are so fucking sexy sitting there eating that steak,” I said low enough that only Cheri could hear me. I was a man known for saying exactly what I thought which could be a bad thing in life at times, but I didn’t care. I held very little back.

Her eyes lifted from her plate and connected with mine as a tinge of pink colored the tops of her cheeks. “You’ve had too much wine,” she countered back without any hesitation. Another thing I loved about her—her sharp wit and venom-laced tongue.

“I’m serious,” I continued. “I’ve never sat across from a sexier woman.”

“Is that so? Are you going to ask me to spread my legs again so you can stare at my pussy?”

God the woman had an ability to always make me smile like some weak-kneed schoolboy whether I wanted to or not. “Maybe. If it means we get to fuck again like last time.” My cock twitched at the thought of being buried inside of her again.

“I think we should wait until our wedding night for that to happen again,” she said as she batted her eyelashes and tilted her head in feigned innocence. “I need to be the pure and innocent princess the world expects. What would the royal family think if they knew I was not a virgin?” She was trying not to laugh, but I could see the humor in her bright eyes.

“Oh fuck that. Fuck that!” I chuckled. It felt good to be able to sit across from this woman I have loved my entire life and share a meal with her, bantering back and forth. It was easy, comfortable, yet she managed to keep my blood racing through my veins at high speed. I truly could see myself spending the rest of my life with her if she would be able to immerse herself into my world. But my world was unlike any other, and though she thought she knew all that it entailed, and though she had a very small sliver of a taste tonight, she truly had no idea of what was still to come. I feared she wouldn’t want to, or be able to do what would be required next.

Next.

What came next would be far more than most women could handle.

Would my dark connections swallow up our budding romance before it even had a chance to bloom?

“What just crossed your mind?” she asked, lowering her wine to the table with a look of concern on her face. “Everything about your eyes and face seemed to darken just then.” She put a smile on her face. “I was kidding about waiting until marriage.”

I took a deep breath and darted my eyes around the room to make sure no one had seen the change in my expression that I hadn’t been aware of. “Sorry, it had nothing to do with what you said. I was just allowing the next topic I have to discuss with you creep in before I was ready to.”

“What topic?” she asked.

I didn’t want to ruin our wonderful night by discussing this matter, but I also knew there was no choice. It wasn’t fair for Cheri to get any further along in this engagement process and then throw this at her. She needed to know right off the bat what she was getting into and what would be expected.

“You have spent your entire life being groomed to be a princess,” I began.

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“But you were groomed for the young, innocent, and naïve parts you were privy to.”

“Okay,” she said with a furrowed brow. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m a powerful man who associates with other powerful people.”

“So, you are saying that our dinner parties aren’t going to be the norm. I get it.”

I shook my head slowly and poured more wine into our glasses. She was going to need it after I got done telling her what I needed to say. “You don’t get it. Power does not come with clean hands. Wealth comes with new rules. A darker law is formed among those who rule over their own empire. Secrets make up the backbone of the society in which I walk. Secrets that have to be protected at all costs.”

“Roman, you aren’t making any sense.”

“Like you, I’ve been groomed my entire life to someday be a king. Though it’s unlikely due to my older brother getting that crown, I was still prepared in all ways for that day to come. I have spent my entire life surrounded by powerful men and women who can be crafty, ruthless, heartless, and cruel at times if they have to. Wealth and power often forces one’s hand.” I needed to get to the point. I realized my trying to sugarcoat this was only confusing Cheri. “I am part of a secret society called The Iron Colt Brotherhood. I was born into it. It’s a society that is made up of old money, new money, royal money, stolen money, and blood money. Unlike some members, I didn’t get to choose to be part of it, but regardless, I am. Once you are a member, you are always a member. There’s no leaving it.”

She nodded. “I’ve heard of this group. I don’t know anything about it really, but I do remember my father being afraid of them. I know he did things in regard to his business and money to appease them.”

Her information surprised me. I hadn’t expected to hear she was already aware of the society much less that she knew enough to understand that they were to be feared.

“Then you know that they’re not to be crossed.”

She shrugged. “I suppose so. But I don’t understand why we’re having this conversation. Are you in trouble with them or something?”

“No. In fact, what I’m about to ask of you is to prevent future issues with the brotherhood. And the reason I’m sweating my fucking balls off right now as I try to explain this, is that I don’t want to scare you off.”

“If the army of photographers didn’t scare me off, I seriously doubt some ancient society can,” she said with a warm smile that I desperately needed to see at that moment. “Do we have to ask their permission to get married or something?”

“Yes,” I said flatly. “In a way. Everything about the brotherhood is surrounded by secrecy. Therefore, when I go to a meeting, gathering, event, and so forth, it is forbidden to discuss it with anyone who isn’t a member. Business deals conducted among the brotherhood are to be treated as highly classified. Nothing can be discussed outside the walls of the society… even with your spouse. Doing so could mean extreme consequences that could even lead to death for both the member and the spouse. By simply being married to me, you’re at risk. I would have to hide a lot from you, even lie and betray in order to protect you.”

Cheri’s eyes narrowed, and just as she was about to no doubt snap at me for something in the lines of her not accepting lies and betrayals, the waiter approached the table to ask us if we wanted any dessert. She declined, as did I, since clearly our minds were focused on something far more important.

When the waiter left, I said, “Which is something I don’t want to do with you. I don’t want to lie or keep you in the dark about anything. I want an open partnership, and frankly will want you by my side at any dinner, event, or fucked up gathering of the rich and powerful. You aren’t a delicate snowflake, and, therefore, I don’t want you treated as such.”

“Do you want me to become a member? Is that it?”

I shook my head. “I wish it were that simple. Because the society is so archaic with very old school beliefs, no woman can truly be a member. But women can marry into the brotherhood if they’re willing to be initiated. They have to earn their way in.”

“Initiated? What does that mean? Like a college hazing?”

“Far from it,” I said. “The initiation is unlike anything you could possibly imagine. It’s not easy, it will demand things from you that only the strong can survive, and it will change your life forever.”

“And you want me to do this initiation?”

I nodded. “I do. It’s the only way to keep you safe, to keep our future family safe, and to appease the brotherhood. I keep myself cloaked in the shadows of The Iron Colt Brotherhood normally. I don’t stand out, or attend many functions unless I absolutely have to. Unfortunately, getting married to you places both of us front and center for a short time. If we play by their rules, do exactly as they ask, earn their trust, I know that we can then go back into the shadows and not be involved.”

“So what do I have to do?” she asked, not seeming afraid at all. I didn’t know if I should be proud of her bravery or angry at her foolishness.

“Submission. Full surrender to The Iron Colt Brotherhood.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” she asked, her bravado morphing into a mix of curiosity and distaste.

“If you agree to the initiation, you’ll be picked up by an unknown member tomorrow and brought to a secret location. You’ll be expected to show that you are willing to give your body and soul to the society. You will be expected to earn their trust by showing them you can do whatever they ask no matter what it is. They will make you show your true submissive self and abandon the woman you once were. Their intent will be to break you in order to allow you to rebuild as an honorary member of the society. They’ll expect to see sacrifice, shame, humility, and complete abandon to all you once believed sacred. The initiation is about releasing every shield and boundary you once had.”

I was practically reciting the words of the brotherhood word for fucking word, and I hated doing it. I was not a man to be told what to do, but I also wasn’t going to put my future bride at risk.

I watched Cheri as she processed my words. I supposed it was a good sign that she didn’t just jump out of her seat and storm out of the restaurant. I couldn’t possibly imagine what was going through her mind.

“What do you mean by give my body? Will I be expected to have sex with them? Is this some sort of gang bang or something?” she asked.

“Fuck that. No way. I would never allow something like that to happen to you. You are mine, and mine only. Though, I have seen initiations where the participant isn’t allowed to choose her partners. My royal blood and lineage gives me some power to make some demands. The only person you will be fucking is me.”

“I’m not following you at all. Are you saying I have to fuck you to be initiated? Can’t you inform them that little deed has already occurred?” Her wicked smile was endearing. Even as we discussed some corrupt and immoral shit, she was able to keep a sense of humor.

“You will be going through much more than just fucking. It’s not that simple. It will push you further than you have ever been pushed. You think you know kink… after the initiation, you will see how pure your thoughts and actions were in comparison.”

“So sex? The initiation is about sex?”

“Yes, and no. You’ll be expected to go through days of sexual submission… but to me. And The Iron Colt Brotherhood will be observing to make sure it is done to their standards. They will be watching to see if you truly are prepared to enter this dark and twisted world.” I took a deep breath to make sure that my next words came out calm and collected. “And, Cheri… I will understand if you say no. I understand if you don’t want to go down this dark path. But I hope you do. It will all be worth it in the end. You will be my equal rather than a woman blinded to the shadows around her.”

“If I fuck you, and become your what… slave?”

“Maybe. If the brotherhood feels it so. But most likely you will be expected to have me dominate every inch of your body.” I took a sip of wine and then gave a tentative smile. “I do feel that I can make this entire process enjoyable for you.”

Her eyes widened. “So BDSM stuff? This sounds… crazy.”

“I know how it sounds. But this is my world. It’s not all galas, gowns and tiaras. My world is black, leather, chains, and danger. You need to know what you are getting yourself into if you truly want to be my bride.”

She sat there staring at me. Her emotionless face made it impossible to read her. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, offended, curious, or considering it all.

“The question is,” I said, “do you still want to marry me? Even if it means you going through this initiation to make that happen?”

The long pause had my heart beating so hard that I actually wondered if the room of diners could hear it. I wanted her desperately to say yes, but I also knew that the information I had just given her and the proposal of what would come next was enough to scare her right back to Costa Rica.

“Yes, I want to marry you,” she said softly. “But if I do this, will I be safe?”

I didn’t want to lie to her. I knew that the answer she wanted to hear was me to say of course she would be. But that was not the truth.

“You’ll be safe as long as you do as you are told. There is no backing down or changing your mind once you start. They’ll kill you before they let you go. But if you do everything asked of you, and you allow me to lead us toward the light, we will get out of the darkness. But you will have to have complete trust in me. I’ll get us through this as hard as it may be to believe it at times. I’m not going to lie to you and say this will be easy. I also wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think you were strong enough. Very few spouses can do what I’m asking of you. But I know you, Cheri. I know you wouldn’t want the same life most women in my circle live. You aren’t the type of woman who can simply sit on a board for some charity, attend fancy parties and smile. You’ll want more. You’ll want all of me and all of my life. You won’t want secrets. You don’t want to be the woman who has to be sent away when important business decisions are discussed.”

“That’s true,” she said. “I know that’s the life my mother led, and I don’t want that. She played dumb and just acted like she knew nothing. I’m assuming my father was a member of The Iron Colt Brotherhood since I had heard them mentioned when I maybe shouldn’t have. I had heard stories, saw some at parties with their hired guards, and even at dinner at my house. Though my mother never acted like she knew a thing. My father protected her, and now I know why. But look where that put her. She’s weak, penniless, and delusional that all will be fine and someone will take care of her. I promised myself I never would be like her in that regard. I won’t be a weak, helpless and kept woman no matter if I marry a prince or not. So, if doing this initiation means I can marry you but still retain my strength and not just be arm candy to a prince, then yes, I want to go through with this. No matter how scary and daunting this sounds.”

A sense of relief and fear attacked me at once. I would do everything within my power to keep her safe, but I also knew how the brotherhood operated.

“They will kill you, Cherise, if you agree to this and then get cold feet. Once you open this door, there is no turning back. They will consider it an act of betrayal.”

She nodded slowly. “But they won’t kill me or hurt me as long as I act submissive and do as I am told. I can do this… if it means I can marry you but not eventually lose myself in the royal life… it will be worth it.”

“But I really want you to understand. It will be sexual. It will be depraved in more ways than you can imagine. It will also tap into your most forbidden and taboo desires. You will feel pleasure and pain, fear and ecstasy all bundled together. Your mind will scream that everything happening to you is wrong, but your body will overrule by knowing it’s right. I will be there. I will guide you, but this journey is yours.”

She nodded again. “So what happens next? When does this initiation happen?”

“You’ll be picked up tomorrow by someone who works for the brotherhood. I’m not sure when, or where, but it will happen. We are going to tell everyone that you and I are on an engagement trip. I have no idea how long we’ll be away for this initiation, so we will not give a date of our return. The media, our families and friends, will all just assume we are on a romantic trip.”

“And when will I see you?” she asked.

“I’ll be there. I don’t know all the details either. I don’t know everything that will happen, or what will be asked of you. But I assure you, that I will be there.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Cheri…” I began. “You need to take this seriously. The men in charge of the initiation can be cruel and without mercy. I will do everything within my power to protect you, but I can’t if you get mouthy, fight back, or try to run. The minute I tell The Iron Colt Brotherhood that you have accepted to be initiated, you will have to completely comply.”

“I understand that,” she said softly. “I knew that marrying you would come with some hidden ties. I knew this.”

“I also need to warn you,” I said in an even tone. “I am not going to be the Prince Roman you grew up with when we are among the brotherhood. You will see the devil inside me emerge. I need you to be prepared.”

She nodded and locked eyes with mine. “I can do this, Roman. I will. If it means that we can live our lives together without this chain around our necks, then I will do it.”

And I would as well. I knew deep down that the initiation had to happen for us to ever be able to live a normal life. I didn’t want to have to fear for her life, or have to make deals to keep her safe. I had power in the brotherhood, and I wanted my wife to as well. It wouldn’t be easy, but I knew if any woman could pull through this, it would be my Cheri.

Chapter Ten

Cheri

I saw the black sedan waiting on the corner as I took a morning walk. I knew they would come, but that didn’t ease the fear I had. There was no way around the inevitable no matter how much I had hoped otherwise. If I wanted a life with Roman not cloaked in dark secrets, I needed to allow this initiation to happen. There was no escaping The Iron Colt Brotherhood in this new life of mine, so I might as well embrace all that it meant and required from me. But though my mind tried to be reasonable, my body, my heart, and my terrified soul screamed out against it.

I could run. Self-preservation kicked in as my eyes darted from side to side looking for an escape route. Yes, I could run… and I would be caught. Running from The Iron Colt Brotherhood only made things worse. I knew this.

Fuck. I knew this.

It was time for the initiation.

Lifting my chin, straightening my spine, and taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I approached the vehicle. In order to survive, I would need to face the monster head on. Maybe if I showed no fear, I could mask my terror with bravado. Charm and grace had worked wonders for me in the past, and there was always hope that those same attributes, when utilized correctly, could work again.

As I approached the driver’s side of the car, the tinted window lowered to reveal a man with a rigid jaw, dark eyes, and about two days’ growth of facial hair. I didn’t recognize him, but I didn’t need to in order to know he worked for The Iron Colt Brotherhood. I assumed people who looked cold and emotionless all worked for The Iron Colt Brotherhood. All employees seemed to be the same. No friends or family really. Loners. A past that made them not care about the future. I had seen enough at parties, heard enough stories about what they did, but seeing someone up close and personal… for me… was a different experience.

“Get in the car,” he ordered. His tone was flat, firm, and just like his appearance, void of life.

For a split second, the thought of running attacked all my senses again, but I pushed it to the deepest depth of my being, opened the back door, and climbed in. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I kept hearing the words of my mother when I was a child telling me to never get into the car of strangers. Never speak to strangers. Never do what I was doing.

Before I could fasten my seatbelt, the car took off. “Where are we going?” I asked. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. It quivered and sounded weak and helpless. I swallowed hard and tried to chase that cowardly woman away. I wasn’t her. I was a fighter. A powerful woman. A motherfucking queen. I had battle scars to prove it. “Did The Iron Colt Brotherhood send you?” I asked, willing myself to sound much stronger this time.

The man didn’t answer, but I saw his eyes look back at me in the rearview mirror. He diverted eye contact quickly, and it was then that panic set in. No one wanted to connect with a dead man walking. No, Roman would never allow them to hurt me. But what if he didn’t have the control I thought he did? What if they were far more powerful than Prince Roman? It was possible… and I could be walking toward my own death.

Make wise choices, my mother used to say.

I clearly didn’t listen.

I should have said no when Roman told me about the initiation. I should have been fine not knowing what was ever really going on. Why did I agree to this? Why? Staring out the window at the passing scenery, I wondered what would have been better.

Bile formed in the back of my throat as I watched us drive into the abyss, further and further into the bayou—out in the middle of nowhere. Someplace that no one would be able to hear the bullet shot through my head, or my cries for mercy as they tortured me first if I didn’t do exactly what they said as Roman had instructed me to do. We were driving so far out of the city that my body would never be found. My fate would be sealed.

Would Roman even be able to find me for a proper burial?

The car turned down a narrow dirt road, and my heart stopped. This was it. This emotionless man driving, who didn’t say a single word, planned to escort me to... to what? God, what was about to happen?

It didn’t take long for me to see something unexpected. A large manor loomed in the distance. Dark, gray, ominous, and it appeared as if the devil himself resided within the walls. It was so large that I wondered if it maybe was once a boarding school, or owned by some wealthy oil tycoon who had more money than even The Iron Colt Brotherhood. Though I was certain the mansion had once been a testament to the opulence of yesteryear, the structure now looked nearly abandoned cast against the setting sun. If it weren’t for the cars parked in the massive circular driveway, I would have thought the house completely deserted and haunted by all the spirits of murdered souls.

I was about to join those forgotten souls myself if I didn’t obey every command and follow every rule. Roman had warned me. Yes, he had warned me, but I had no idea how daunting all of that was until I sat here about to face it head on.

It was as if the manor was lost in time—once magnificent, but now eerily haunting. Large windows with a faint light emerging through the stained glass of the second floor gave the cold structure some signs of warmth and life. But then the sharp-pitched roof with the crumbling brick chimneys reminded me of the deathlike aura. Would my body be tortured and killed inside those walls? Was I staring at my own coffin?

When the car pulled up to the front entrance, I saw a man waiting outside wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He was at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, his huge figure looming in front of the manor. His hair was black, his eyes dark, and from the firmness of his expression, I was pretty sure that his inner being was even darker than his outer appearance.

The driver got out of the car, opened my door, and yanked me out of the vehicle. With a strong grip of my upper arm, my chauffeur half-dragged me to the waiting man since my feet could barely keep up with his speed and purpose. As we approached the steps, both men silently climbed their way to the front door and pulled me inside. Once we reached the foyer, I was shoved to the floor.

“Kneel,” the man who had been waiting for me said.

Too panicked to do anything else, I scrambled to my knees and did as he said while I quickly tried to scan my surroundings. A glorious staircase mastered the entire space with its intricately carved banister spiraling alongside the wooden steps. Original pocket doors concealed rooms on each side of me, and the scarred wooden floor beneath my knees countered the lavishness of the chandelier dangling over me.

“Cherise,” the man began as he stood in front of me with his arms remaining crossed at his chest. It was as if he was going to lecture me like a naughty schoolgirl rather than begin the initiation.

I didn’t respond, but looked up into his eyes instead. I swallowed hard and struggled to breathe. For a moment, I wondered if I would die of a heart attack before the man could do anything to me.

“I’m not one to fuck around. So, let’s just get to the point. You know why you are here, yes?”

I nodded and looked down at the floor. My nerves could no longer handle the severity that I saw in his eyes and on his face. I foolishly thought I could be brave and face this initiation head on, but the tears that fell and the need to beg to be let go and pretend none of this had ever happened almost erupted from the place I thought I had securely locked my fear away.

“The Iron Colt Brotherhood are not men to cross. Betrayal equals death. And in most cases, the most torturous, agonizing death you could imagine. They want to make their enemies pay with far more than just their lives.” He took one step toward me, and I flinched as if he had just punched me in the face. “But you know that. You know what could happen to you right now if you don’t listen and comply with every detail of this initiation.”

My mind ran rampant with all the ways this man and the brotherhood would make me pay if I did a single thing wrong. Every single horror movie I ever watched played back in my head. My ragged breath came out in gasps as my vision dimmed. My ears rang, and my body quivered.

The man reached for my chin and tilted my head back so I had to look up into his eyes. “I am one of the members of The Iron Colt Brotherhood.” He paused for a moment to give me time to absorb his words. “Your initiation has begun. There is no backing out no matter how much you plead for mercy.”

“Mercy?” There was a note of hysteria in my voice as I asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

“Death would be easy compared to what we plan to do to you.”

“Torture me?”

“In the most wicked of ways. Yes.”

I flinched when I heard the cries of a woman from another room in the manor. Staring up into this monster’s eyes, I asked, “Am I not the only one being initiated? How many are there?”

“The only person you should worry about, Cheri, is you. You will need all the strength and focus you can drum up in that shaking body of yours.”

The sob I had been struggling to hold back released. It was even louder as it was amplified by the barren walls of the entryway. My shoulders shook with the effort to hold back an even more desperate wail. I feared I’d no longer be able to wear the crown of the brave queen. I could already feel it breaking, chipping, being destroyed by my fear. I was so very scared, and all I could do was watch my tears fall to the floor before my knees.

“Don’t cry, sweet princess. Not yet.” The man bent down and caressed the back of my head, once again lifting my face so I was forced to look into his unforgettable eyes. He then took a handful of hair and yanked my head back hard. “Not until one of the brothers gives you something to cry about. And we will.” Tugging on my hair harder, he inched back and looked me square on, so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my lips. I could smell his manly scent of spice and control… if control had a scent. He was so close. I could almost feel him. I knew his touch wouldn’t be soft or gentle. There was nothing but raw power exuding from this man. “We most certainly will.”

Chapter Eleven

Cheri

I hadn’t noticed that the driver was still in the manor until the man nodded at him. “I’ll take it from here.” He looked down at me and gave a fiendish smile. “As soon as I go over the ground rules and have her broken in.”

When the front door closed, I adjusted my weight to relieve the pressure on my knees. The small movement was not a good idea, however. The man, who still had a handful of my hair in his grasp, jerked me up to a standing position. The sting on my scalp had me crying out, but I didn’t resist in any way.

“First rule in this manor,” he said between clenched teeth. “You do nothing without permission. Nothing at all. I don’t care if you are uncomfortable, in pain, or just in the mood to do something of your own free will. You won’t do anything without a direct order, or you will suffer the consequences.”

He paused and waited for some type of response from me. I couldn’t talk. I was so terrified all I could only stare and nod. What consequences? But I wasn’t about to ask that question out loud.

Still holding my hair, the man led me to the stairs. “You will be expected to pay your penance into our world. You will gain your freedom from this manor and officially be initiated into The Iron Colt Brotherhood by earning diamonds. The Iron Colt Brotherhood has sentenced you to one hundred diamonds owed. Once you pay those diamonds, you are free to go and will be an honorary member of The Iron Colt Brotherhood as long as you remain married to Prince Roman Cassian. Failure to earn them, or failure to earn them at a speed that The Iron Colt Brotherhood feels is appropriate will end in death. So, the choice really is up to you.”

“You want me to pay my membership with diamonds?” I tried to turn my head to look at the man in desperation but was rewarded with a sharp pull of my hair as he led me up the stairs. “I can do that. How much are the diamonds? I will pay you all whatever you feel is fair. Whatever you want, I will pay. I’ll find a way. I swear.”

No way could I afford even one diamond, let alone several, but if diamonds were all it would take to be initiated, I was sure Roman would help me out in that regard.

I stumbled up the stairs to try to keep up with his stride. In the corner of my eye, I could see the man smirk. “Oh, you will pay. You will definitely pay.”

When we reached the landing, I tried not to focus on the cries of women I could hear coming from other rooms down the long expansive hallway. My head spun as I was trying to process what this man was telling me. What else was expected? I didn’t quite understand. Diamonds?

“The Iron Colt Brotherhood created this manor for women exactly like you. Women who need guidance, structure, and a firm hand teaching them the way of our secret life. This manor is to break the old you, so that you can accept the new way of living. Royal blood does not run through your veins, so we must force the royal into you. Old money and lineage do not make up your bones, so we must shatter your current, and brittle ones, and then heal you to have the spine of The Iron Colt Brotherhood. We must feel that every woman in this manor is ready. And you are far from ready.” The man opened up a bedroom door and shoved me across the threshold while he remained in the hallway. “As long as you earn your hundred diamonds, you will come out of this alive. Your prince will be here soon. But remember… in this manor, your prince is dark, cruel, harsh, and unforgiving. In this manor, your prince is not your knight in shining armor.”

Looking around the room, it surprised me to see that it looked like any normal guestroom that would be in such an elegant manor of its day. I was expecting a prison or dungeon of some sort by the way I had been treated so far. Instead, a large canopied bed mastered the room with lush bedding and pillows. There was a floor-to-ceiling window draped with heavy velvet curtains. Antique furniture adorned the room and was even accentuated with a large oriental rug that covered most of the marred wooden floor. The room was lovely, elegant, and welcoming. Quite the opposite of what I was anticipating.

I turned and looked at the man, who stood by the door watching me examine the room. “How do I earn the diamonds?” I was almost too scared to ask the question in fear of what I would hear.

“By doing every single thing your prince says without protest. If you argue or put up a fight, he will still act out what he intended to do, but you won’t earn a credit for it.”

“Where is Roman now?” My voice cracked, and I thought I would have to run to the small bathroom I saw attached to the room and throw up.

“He’s in the manor.”

“When do I get to see him?”

The man took a step toward me. “You’ll see.” He reached into a leather holder on his belt and pulled out a knife. The silver of the blade glimmered beneath the light cast by a small chandelier above. “But it’s time we begin.” He took another menacing step toward me as my heart stopped. “Remove all your clothing.”

His command was accented by the scream of a woman in another room, as if I needed a reminder of what would come if I said no.

I reached for the top button of my blouse and slowly unbuttoned it. “Am I to be a whore to earn these diamonds?” I asked, staring him directly in the eyes. “So, I have to fuck all the brotherhood if you ask in order to be free—to earn the diamonds? Is that what I am understanding?” Roman had told me that wasn’t the case, but maybe he had been wrong.

The man closed the distance between us and placed the knife at the side of my neck right below my earlobe. “Fucking you would give you pleasure. And the last thing any of us plan on doing to you right now is give you pleasure.” He ran the knife along my collarbone and down until it reached my fingertips holding the button of my blouse. He then forced the blade between the button and the fabric and started plucking the buttons right off, disrobing me his way.

I remained perfectly still. The knife was so close to my flesh that I worried the slightest move would have it slicing my skin instead of the blouse.

The man used the knife to cut through the thin band connecting my bra between my breasts. He paused and looked me directly in the eyes as the cool air kissed my now exposed nipples as he ripped the material of the bra off me.

He took a step back and said, “Now remove the rest of your clothes and stand naked before me. I will give you your first opportunity to earn a credit.” When I didn’t move right away, he raised one eyebrow and added, “You will be naked standing before me one way or the other. I’m giving you the opportunity to at least earn a credit toward your debt for the act. Your choice.”

Glancing at the knife in his hand, and then at the way his jaw clenched while he waited, I decided it best to do exactly as he commanded. At least for now. I had to regroup. Think everything through. I needed time to process, but I needed to be alive to do so. So, if all I had to do was stand naked before this complete stranger, then so be it. Trying to not overthink, or allow my pride to get in the way of my survival, I disrobed as fast as I could.

“Leave your panties on,” he instructed. “We will allow Prince Roman to take it from here.”

I froze at the sound of another pair of heavy footsteps approaching a few moments before his deep voice broke my spell of compliance.

“Yes, I’ll take it from here,” Roman said as he walked into the room, staring intently at me. “She’s mine.”

The man nodded and handed the knife to Roman, but he remained where he stood.

I wanted to run and hug him, cling to him, glue myself to his body as I begged for him to take me away from this manor of hell. I was scared and wanted him to make it all okay again. But he had warned me. He had told me this wouldn’t be easy. And he told me that the man I would see at the manor, would not be the boy I grew up with. That fact was obvious because though Roman stood in the room, staring at me nearly completely naked, he never once moved to cover me up from the eyes of the stranger. He never embraced me or offered to dry my tears. This man in the room was Prince Roman… but as I was told, he was now dark Prince Roman.

“I don’t understand what’s happening. What is going to happen to me?” My voice quivered as much as my body did. Fresh tears erupted and ran down my cheeks as I watched Roman, the cold expression on his face unfamiliar to me.

Roman closed the distance between us and put the knife under my chin so I had to look up into his brown eyes. He inhaled deeply. “The initiation begins, and you know what that means.”

I nodded every so slightly, scared of the knife under my chin.

“You understand what I must do? Who I must become?”

I inhaled deeply and blinked a few times, not being able to control the tears. I thought I could do this. I thought I was strong enough. But facing it made my stiff spine disappear.

“I love the way your tears smell against your cheeks.” He pressed the tip of the knife into my skin, forcing a gasp to break free from my closed lips. He then darted his tongue past his lips and licked a trail up my cheek, collecting my tears for his tasting. “These will not be the last of your tears,” he nearly growled as he then lowered the knife to the edge of my panties.

“Please,” I said softly. Another sob broke free. “I’ll do as you ask. I’m scared. Please don’t hurt me.”

Would he hurt me? My Roman wouldn’t… but this was a different man before me. This was Prince Roman, member of The Iron Colt Brotherhood, and he had an image to uphold.

The knife dipped below the waistband of my panties and rested against my mound. The coolness of the steel against my intimate skin had me gasp again as Roman brought his lips to my ear. “Stay still, Cheri. It would be a shame to scar this pussy of yours.”

“Please…”

I didn’t want to do this!

I wanted to leave!

I was a fool in thinking I could do an initiation like this.

I wanted out, but I also knew it was too late.

He tapped the metal of the knife against my clit, causing a surprising surge of sinful arousal. The twisted sense of desire while shaking in horror, due to my captive situation, weakened my knees. Beads of sweat formed on my upper lip as I focused on not collapsing to the floor, jamming the blade right through me.

“By the time I’m done with you, diamonds will be paid and your life will be changed forever. You will be part of The Iron Colt Brotherhood whether you like it or not for the rest of your life. But while you earn your diamonds, your life belongs to me. You belong to me. I will be your captor, your sir…” He paused for a moment and examined my body from head to toe. “Fuck that. For you. For you, my dear Cheri, I will be your master, your trainer, the keyholder to your cage, and you will be my kitty locked away in this manor—caging you in. My filthy, dirty, raw, wild kitty. Yes, The Iron Colt Brotherhood will like hearing you call me Master.” He gave a wicked smile, clearly pleased with his thoughts of what that would mean. “I will be the man who controls every single breath you take and move you make. You will call me Master, my wild kitty. Trust that your Master knows best, and you’ll survive this ordeal.”

He was serious. This man was fucking serious.

“Do you understand what I am saying, Cheri?”

I nodded, trying to stay as still as I could as the knife resting on my pussy reminded me how precarious my situation was.

“Answer me the proper way,” he said firmly.

Not sure what he meant exactly, I tried to guess and replied, “Yes, sir.”

“No, you do not call me sir. Not for you. That’s too common, and I know that you are far from common. You will call me Master, dirty girl. Say it.”

I swallowed hard and with wide eyes tried one last time to beg for mercy. “Please don’t do this. I know I said I could do this, but I’m scared. I’ll do whatever The Iron Colt Brotherhood wants me to do and say whatever they want me to say. I can keep secrets. I promise you that I will never betray them. We don’t need to do this. An initiation is not necessary.”

“But we do. All who marry a member of the brotherhood and want to truly be accepted must be initiated. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.”

“Please,” I pleaded as fresh tears fell. “I beg you.”

“You aren’t begging yet. Trust me. But you will. When I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for more. You will beg for my cock to be inside of you. You will plead with those tears in your eyes for my tongue to go lower and deeper. You will beg, dirty girl. Trust me. You will beg.” He pressed the knife a little harder against my mound. “Now say it. Say yes, Master.”

“Yes, Master,” I whispered.

“Say it louder.” The knife went even lower, rubbing my clit with the burn of seduction on its descent.

“Yes, Master!” I said louder as I tensed. It felt good—but was so fucking wrong.

“Say it again and look me in the eyes like a good girl.”

I opened my blurry tear-filled eyes wide and stared at him. “Yes, Master.”

“Very good,” Roman praised. “You just earned yourself a diamond.” He rubbed the knife up and down in a slow and sensual manner. He inhaled again, brought his lips to my ear, and whispered, “I smell you, dirty girl. I can smell those naughty juices of yours. I have a feeling we are going to have great fun earning your dues.”

I cried harder—more out of shame and humiliation this time rather than fear. The man who escorted me to the room was still standing there witnessing everything Roman was saying and doing to me. I couldn’t look at him, embarrassed that not only could he see me naked, but he was also witnessing me call Roman Master… and no doubt, he could see what it was doing to me. My body hungered for more, and I hated myself for it.

I was his. His.

I now had a Master.

There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could say. My cries grew louder and joined the screams from the other rooms. It was a symphony of misery. A chorus of terror. And as I looked at my new Master, I realized he would be the man orchestrating it all.

Chapter Twelve

Cheri

“So now we begin,” Roman said, removing the knife from my panties.

He raised the blade up to meet our eye level. Glancing at it, I could see it was coated with my signs of fucked-up lust and twisted sexual need. It glistened with sin. Roman was right. I was a dirty girl. Yes, filthy. So fucking wrong. I should be screaming. Demanding freedom. I should be fighting to escape, but instead I was nearly coming on a weapon used to kill.

There was a sparkle in Roman’s eye and a smirk on his face as he put the blade back in its holder on his belt. “The Iron Colt Brotherhood likes to watch from afar. There are cameras everywhere in this manor. They want to guarantee that the women are being properly initiated.” Roman’s face grew serious. “And if they don’t feel you are, they may revoke my right at initiating you and will send in a harsher replacement. So, I advise you to be a good little girl. Do you understand?”

I nodded and softly said, “Yes, Master.” I didn’t want to have anyone else but Roman. I could do this. I could earn my diamonds. I already had one. Ninety-nine more to go. Ninety-nine more diamonds for my freedom and my future life married to Roman. I could do this. I had no choice but to do this. “What are you going to do to me?”

It suddenly dawned on me that I was still standing with my arms at my sides. Like I was a private in the army standing before a general.

Yes, sir.

No, sir.

Whatever you say, sir.

Only this time, the private was wearing nothing but a pair of white lace panties. I didn’t have to look down to know my nipples were hard, and I didn’t have to press my legs together to feel the leftover wetness from the kiss of the knife.

Roman took hold of my hair and circled it around his hand. He then guided me out of the room as if my hair was a leash and I was his filthy kitty. We walked down the hallway, and I noticed that there were cameras placed in strategic places. The Iron Colt Brotherhood was watching. I could practically feel their eyes burning holes into my exposed flesh. When we reached the bathroom door, Roman turned to me with seriousness washed over his face. “We are going to start filming from the minute we walk into the bathroom. The Iron Colt Brotherhood will be watching every single moment. They want a close-up recording so they can truly examine how grateful you are for your opportunity to become a member of the society. Are you going to be able to behave and act as they would expect someone who wanted to earn reward diamonds would behave? I’m serious when I tell you that what you do from this point on is crucial. It will determine if you live to see tomorrow. So will you be able to do exactly as I say?”

I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. In a very tiny voice, I answered, “I think so… Master.” The word still felt foreign, but didn’t necessarily feel more fucked up or wrong than my current situation.

My body trembled with the overwhelming nerves exploding from inside, but I didn’t want The Iron Colt Brotherhood to see that anyone had the ability to break me. I would remain strong no matter what occurred on the other side of the door.

Roman’s face lit up, and he stroked the back of my head. The act didn’t feel loving, but rather condescending. Humiliation was clearly a tactic of his. I wondered if it was only because he was on camera, or was he enjoying a part of this? “That’s my good girl. You just do as I say and don’t fight me in the slightest. Swallow that pride that will be raging inside of you. Your pride is only the first of what you will lose while here.” He took a deep breath, as if he was nervous of what was to come. Would The Iron Colt Brotherhood order him to kill me if I acted out? Would he try to stop it if they did order my execution? “Once The Iron Colt Brotherhood sees that you are coming along nicely, they won’t require so much monitoring.” He opened the door and gave a nod to a man who stood at a video camera. “That’s Gage. He’ll be recording this session tonight.”

I walked into the pristine bathroom, fiddling with my fingers as I gave Gage a small awkward nod. I was standing in nothing but my panties in front of a complete stranger… again! I didn’t know what to do or say to Gage, but I could see the red light was on the camera and knew that there was no turning back. The Iron Colt Brotherhood was watching.

“All right,” Roman began. “Let’s get you out of those panties.” His command was firm.

Only pausing to appreciate my breasts for a moment, Roman took hold of my panties, squatting as he pulled them down all the way to my ankles and lifted my feet one at a time so I could step out of them.

Glancing up and staring at my exposed and completely bare body, he scowled and stood up. “Naughty, naughty girl.”

I flinched at his words and the stern expression on his face. I had no idea what I had done wrong. I did exactly as he had asked.

“Only very bad girls have hair on their pussies,” he lectured.

I glanced down at my brown little curls of hair and then back at him in disbelief.

“We do not tolerate women being initiated into the brotherhood to ever have body hair. This is not acceptable.”

He took a step forward, lifted my arm, and ran his fingertips along my armpit, nodded, and then ran his hand down the front of my leg and nodded again.

“Lucky for you and your ass, you at least took care of the rest of your body hair. But,” he said as he went and sat on the edge of the tub, “you will still be punished.” He patted his lap, which I assumed meant he wanted me to lie over it.

“I… I’m sorry.” I had no idea what to say or do. The humiliation of this entire conversation was almost too much to endure.

“Mistakes happen. This manor is all about mistakes. But that does not mean that there won’t be consequences.” He patted his lap once more. “Now come here. I haven’t got all day.”

Oh, Jesus.

This was it. I was about to be spanked. Spanked over a man’s knee. Was this really happening? Was I really standing naked in front of two men and a camera? All because I was fated to marry a prince. Death or… shame and humiliation?

All for the sake of royalty.

My legs trembled and when I took my first step, I wondered if my knees would buckle from beneath me. As if I were moving in slow motion, I somehow reached Roman and placed my body over his lap, feeling the firmness of his thighs beneath my belly.

“Now before we start,” he said as he ran his palm along my naked behind. “Some punishments will be worth more diamonds than others. You obviously want the punishments that earn you more if you want to leave this manor anytime soon.”

I nodded as I stared at the tiled floor beneath me.

“Each diamond will depend on severity.”

I nodded again.

“To begin with, we will only do a single diamond punishment,” he said. “So, expect this show of discipline to be far easier than any of the future ones. Now, I am giving you this spanking today to remind you that good girls keep their cunts nice and smooth.” His hand came crashing against my flesh, and I flinched more out of surprise than pain. He swatted me again and again, before saying, “After every swat, I want you to say ‘good girls keep their cunts smooth.’”

Swat.

“Good girls keep their cunts smooth.” The words sounded as if they were spoken by someone else other than me.

Swat.

I gasped when the sting set in. “Good girls keep their cunts smooth.”

Swat.

I squinted my eyes. “Good girls keep their cunts smooth.”

Swat.

“Ow!” Fuck, it was starting to hurt. Far more than I thought it would.

Roman spanked me several more times. “What are you supposed to say?” he asked in a warning voice.

The Iron Colt Brotherhood was watching.

“Good girls keep their cunts smooth!” I cried out as my ass heated up with every second that passed. Each swat hurt more and more, and I wasn’t sure how many of the searing blows I could take.

He brought his large palm squarely down on my punished cheek, and I gasped at how the pain radiated through my core.

“Good girls,” I squeaked, “keep their cunts smooth!”

He spanked me again, but this time hitting the tender flesh that met the tops of my thighs.

“Please!” I begged. “It hurts!”

My plea was rewarded with a volley of spanks that were far worse than the ones he had been giving me. He continued on with a ferocious spanking as I kicked, wiggled, clung to his calf and cried out in pain. The sound of his palm connecting with my punished flesh echoed off the walls of the tiled room, the only sound louder was my cries for mercy. Over and over, Roman held my helpless body to his lap and spanked my butt, even taking some time to once again spank my upper thighs and the area where my bottom met my legs. It was excruciating, and the fact that he could do all this with just his hand and little effort on his part terrified me as to what else he was capable of.

Finally, as I lay gasping for air, Roman paused, rubbed my skin, which felt as if it had been stung by a million hornets, and asked, “Shall we try this again?”

Swat.

I did not hesitate in the slightest. “Good girls keep their cunts smooth.”

“Now that is truly my good girl,” he praised, which actually did fill me with a sense of warmth and pride.

Swat.

“Good girls keep their cunts smooth.”

“We will do ten more, and then your spanking will be over. You have earned a credit. Be brave.”

Chapter Thirteen

Cheri

I hadn’t even realized the video had been recording. Not once during my spanking did I even stop to consider that Gage had the camera pointed at my upturned ass the entire time. Funny how the only thing going through my mind was how I would never let even a hint of hair grow on my ‘cunt’ ever again.

Roman kept me in position over his lap while I slowly regained my breath and sniffled back the tears. I hadn’t sobbed, but the pain definitely brought tears to my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if I should try to hide them or not. Was I to be brave and endure my spanking with little emotion? Or did they want to see the pain? The fear? I made a mental note to ask Roman when the time seemed right. Would tears earn me extra diamonds? Or would showing strength earn respect, hence more diamonds? Right now however, I wouldn’t have been able to speak even if I wanted to.

Roman rubbed his fingertips in small circles over my heated flesh. “Good girl. This is the first of many punishments to teach you your lesson.” Without warning, he moved his fingertips down the crack of my ass until they reached my pussy. Dipping them past my folds, he moved them around and collected my juices of arousal. “Someone likes having her ass spanked, I see.”

I shamelessly wiggled against his hand, desperate for him to move his fingertips beyond my folds and to enter inside of me, or at the very least to play with my clit. Something, anything… He was right. I had enjoyed it. Maybe not the actual pain of it. I didn’t think I actually liked the feeling of being spanked, but my body was on fire just as my ass was. How could a spanking that I was literally begging him to stop do this to me? The only explanation was that the feeling of desire was far better than the feeling of fear.

“Do you want your Master to make you feel all better? To kiss away all the pain?” His fingers only ran along my folds, teasing me with how close they were to giving me what I wanted so badly.

“Yes, Master.” My voice cracked as I all but pleaded my answer.

He pulled his hand away quickly and gave me one final swat before helping me to a standing position. “Dirty kitties with hairy cunts do not get to feel all better.”

He turned on the faucet and adjusted the temperature, placing his hand under the water until he was satisfied. He then took the removable showerhead off the base and pulled the lever to make the water burst from the showerhead. He kept it face down and motioned for me to get into the bathtub.

I stepped into the tub feeling a sense of mortification. How I wished I had been better prepared and shaved down there. Although I had never done so before. All the men I had ever been with before just got what they got. I didn’t care or even give it a thought. But with Roman and Gage, and even The Iron Colt Brotherhood who I knew were watching my humiliation, it filled me with so much shame that I wasn’t presented better. It gave them the upper hand. Roman had managed to make me feel like a dirty girl. Yes, a filthy dirty kitty as he so liked to call me. I was his dirty girl, and yet, the thought of that made my tummy flip in anticipation of what that would mean, and how he would try to cleanse me of my soiled ways.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I whispered as Roman directed the stream of water between my legs.

“Sit down and spread your legs wide. Lean back and stay very, very still.”

I did as he asked while he reached for a razor and a bottle of body cleanser. Gage was repositioning the camera so he could get a better shot of my widespread pussy. And though maybe I should have been embarrassed that my sex was on full display for the camera, the main humiliation I felt was that I had disappointed Roman, and for some odd reason, I hated that fact. I was hairy, and I wanted to be rid of it as quickly as possible.

Roman squirted a generous amount of liquid soap between my legs and then with the utmost care, he swiped the razor in one long motion, leaving a trail of bare skin behind. I watched him as he expertly angled the razor and as he used his fingers to open and hold back my folds so he could get every last hidden hair. In fascination, I watched as my pussy became hair free, and I could actually see what the most intimate and secret part of my body truly looked like. It was odd to see a body part of mine I hadn’t really seen before. Or at least seen as an adult. I really didn’t know what my pussy looked like completely bare until Roman grabbed the showerhead and once again directed it at my spread legs.

I couldn’t help but gasp and release a tiny moan when the pressure from the water made contact with my highly sensitive clit that was so needy for attention. It took everything I had not to put my hand down there and pleasure myself, but I figured such an act would land me back over Roman’s lap for a repeat session on how good girls were supposed to act.

My gasp and moan, however, made Roman smile. “My kitty likes her shower time.” He kept the water where it was, watching as the flowing streams of water were building my pleasure.

“Yes, Master,” I moaned as I could feel the orgasm nearing.

“But,” he said as he shut the shower off, “bath time is not fully over yet. Although I will give you another diamond for remaining so still.”

He reached for my hand and helped me out of the bathtub. I groaned in disappointment, and my head felt a little light from getting up so quickly. My bare pussy screamed in protest with the need for completion, but there was nothing I could do. I was at my Master’s mercy.

“Dry her off while I get a new angle,” Gage said as he lifted the camera that was on a tripod to a different spot in the bathroom. “The Iron Colt Brotherhood will want to see every bit of the enema clearly.”

“Enema?” I asked as Roman wrapped a pink fluffy towel around my body.

“Yes, Cheri. Bath time is to get all parts of your body clean. My guess is that you have never had one,” Roman said as he reached under the sink and pulled out what looked like a large deflated rubber whoopee cushion and some plastic tubing.

“No, I haven’t.”

Roman looked over his shoulder with a stern look and Gage came up from behind and swatted me hard on the butt. Luckily, my towel helped block some of the sting, but it still had me yelping.

“No, what?” Roman asked, warning lacing his words.

“No… no, Master. I have never had an enema before.” I didn’t want one. Unlike the idea of a spanking, this did not give me butterflies in my tummy. This didn’t look like it would be worth any diamonds at all.

“Which is exactly why you are going to receive one,” Gage said as he walked back toward the camera. “You need to be nice and clean for any anal discipline.”

“But I…” I looked at Roman and felt panic as I stood there trying to process what was going to happen. I really had no idea what an enema felt like, what it would do, or if I would truly hate it.

“Now, now, Cheri,” Roman said and placed the enema tools on the floor. He stood up and smiled, offering a look of kindness, which did help… a little. Very lightly, he placed his palm on my tightly closed fist that clasped my towel securely around me.

“Let go of the towel,” he commanded softly, which I didn’t hesitate in doing.

He spread the towel on the tiled floor and looked at Gage, who nodded that he was ready to continue with the video.

Roman squatted and patted the fluffy pink fabric. “Kneel down on the towel and get on all fours.”

I glanced at the camera and could see that the red light was on. For a split second, I thought about running. All I had to do was grab my clothes and be out the door and into freedom. I could leave. I could flee this house and never look back. I didn’t have to marry Roman. Was this worth it?

Make wise choices, the words of my mother rang in my ears.

Yes, running wasn’t wise.

I knew they would catch me, and the punishment… would be severe. Roman had already warned me that the minute I agreed to the initiation, there was no turning back. They would never allow it.

Not wanting Roman to have to repeat himself, I did as he asked and got on all fours, my ass facing the camera. Roman patted my behind, reminding me of the spanking I had just received. I wondered if it was red or bruised. I was sure The Iron Colt Brotherhood, who was watching this video, enjoyed seeing the signs that I had just been spanked. They probably wished I was bleeding while lash after lash scarred my creamy flesh.

I assumed they all were sick bastards in some way. They had a manor full of screaming, crying, and moaning women, after all.

“You are such a good girl,” Roman praised. “Your Master is going to take all the bad away from your body. Every single toxin left inside. You just have to endure for a short time, and I will give you two diamonds for good behavior.”

I could see him pull the enema bag and nozzle his way as he positioned himself behind me. I heard the snap of a bottle, some shuffling around, and the feel of a wet nozzle touching my anus.

“Okay, I’m going to put this tube in this tiny little hole of yours. It will sting as it stretches you, but I want you to be a good girl and not give me any tears. Take it up the ass without a fight, and just know it won’t be the last thing spreading your hole wide.”

As the tube entered inside of me, I gasped at the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but it felt odd having something inserted in a place so… private. As it entered all the way inside, Roman spread my legs wider and then pressed down on my back, forcing the front half of me to lie flat on the floor. My breasts pressed firmly against the terrycloth, and my butt high on display caused my face to burn in humiliation. I could feel the cool air of the room on my stretched anus and along my bare pussy. I knew that there wasn’t a part of my privates not on full display for the camera.

“I’m going to start filling your ass with the water. I’m feeling merciful so I will go nice and slow, but you are going to have to take deep breaths and just allow the pressure to build.”

I could actually feel the minute the water started entering me. There was a moment of panic as I worried I would have to go to the bathroom right then. It almost felt as if I had to go, but not quite. But then the pressure he spoke of set in. My belly expanded and cramping attacked my lower region.

“I need to go to the bathroom now!” I would be mortified if I had a bowel movement by accident—especially on camera—but that was what my body was threatening to do if I didn’t run to the toilet that sat off in the corner in its small little compartment of a room.

“No. You have to take it all before you are allowed up.” Roman held the nozzle firmly in my hole, and placed his palm over the small of my back to remind me to stay in position.

“I can’t,” I moaned. “Please. You don’t understand.” I didn’t want to tell them that I had to go bad, but I couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Cheri,” Roman warned. “Listen to me.”

The cramping intensified, and I felt as if I would explode at any second. Sweat coated my skin. “Master! I…” I clenched my anus as tight as I could to hold it back. The action only reminded me that something foreign was inside of me. “I can’t,” I whined.

“Do you want me to distract you?” he asked.

I nodded and just whimpered in response.

Roman reached around and gently massaged my extended belly, which did seem to relieve some of the pressure. When my whimpers stopped, he sat back and ran his fingers down the seam of my ass, circling the nozzle, massaging the stretched flesh of my invaded anus. His fingers then left the taboo spot and dipped down to my sex. When he touched me, I realized I was dripping wet.

“Ahhh, my dirty princess is all nice and wet. Dirty, dirty girl.” He ran his fingertip around my clit and then dipped down to the folds of my pussy, collecting my juices, and then back to my clit for more delicious ministrations.

The one thing I had to admit as I moaned in both agony and pleasure was Roman had successfully managed to help me relax enough to take all the water. I wasn’t comfortable, but at least I wasn’t in a panic that I would expel waste all over the place while Gage filmed it.

“Now that’s a good girl,” Roman praised as he stopped playing with my clit and patted my butt cheek. “You took all the water. Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes…” I moaned. A sharp slap to my ass had me quickly saying, “Yes, Master.”

Would they make me use the toilet on camera as well? I didn’t want to, but at this stage, I didn’t care what it would take to be able to relieve the immense pressure. The control it took to hold it all in made my legs quiver.

“All right, Cheri. I’m going to pull out this tube. When I do, you are going to have to work extra hard to hold it all in. It’s going to feel like you have no choice but to release. But if you do, a severe consequence will follow. So, you need to be a good girl, and get up and run to the toilet.”

I nodded and moaned loudly as waves of cramps attacked, one after another.

“You can close the door for privacy since you have been such a good girl. I will be waiting in your bedroom. Meet me in there when you are finished. Welcome to the manor. You have a long way to go but you just earned yourself three more diamonds.”

He patted my behind softly before he very slowly eased the nozzle from my puckered hole. He was correct when he said it felt like I would go right then and there. I cried out in fear of having an accident in front of them. Clenching tightly, which only made the pulling of the tube out more uncomfortable, I somehow managed to run to the small room that only held a toilet and closed the door behind me.

Was this all worth the amount of diamonds actually earned?

How much more of this could I endure?

How long would this take? How many days to earn these diamonds?

Diamonds were owed, and I clearly would be paying in the most wicked ways imaginable. My sinful sentence had begun. I was now a resident of the manor, and my initiation was far from over.

Chapter Fourteen

Cheri

When I entered my assigned room, Roman was standing by the window with his back toward me. He seemed lost in thought, and I wondered if he had even heard me enter. I took a few more steps inside, unsure what I should do next.

“You did good in there,” he said, still not turning around. “The Iron Colt Brotherhood should be satisfied with what happened, and not feel like you will need to be broken and assigned to someone else besides me.”

I held my hands in front of my bare mound and had never felt so exposed before in my life. I noticed that there were cameras in the corners of my room, but they were not nearly as invasive as having Gage standing only a few feet away zooming in and out with a camera in order to get every close-up angle he could. The thought of what must have been captured and sent to The Iron Colt Brotherhood made me ill. I knew this ancient society was fucked up, but I had no idea just how much until now.

Roman turned around and stared at me, examining my nudity as if he was making sure I was ‘dressed’ properly for this twisted party of which I was a forced guest. The cool air of the room mixing with the cold stare of Roman had my nipples hardening and shivers running up my spine.

Roman approached me, took hold of my hair once again, and led me to the edge of the bed. I wondered if that was the only way I would ever walk again—guided by Roman’s fist holding my hair at the scalp.

He lowered me to the bed and released my hair. He took a few steps back and crossed his arms against his chest. “So, let’s get a couple of rules out of the way. You will remain in this room unless you are escorted out by me. There is a bathroom in here, and all food will be delivered here unless I choose to bring you to the dining room. You will remain naked from this point on. Get used to having your body belong to me. I will come here when I feel like it. It could be several times a day, or not at all. You will not question what I ask. You will not resist me in any way.” He looked toward the window. “You can try to escape, but won’t get far. Cameras are everywhere and we will catch you. You have the opportunity to walk out of here with your life if you understand and follow these rules. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Do you have any questions?”

For the first time since arriving at the manor and seeing Roman here within these walls, he seemed to soften some. His eyes were less severe and his jaw was no longer firm. I believed he truly was giving me the opportunity to ask whatever I wanted without penalty.

Drumming up some courage, I asked, “How many women are here? You didn’t tell me there would be others.”

“Depends. There are several members getting ready to marry currently,” he answered. “You and I aren’t the only bride and groom getting married.”

I paused and wondered how far I could go with the questions. I didn’t want to push too far in fear of what the consequences would be. I knew they were watching, and though I wasn’t scared of Roman, I was scared of what they would make Roman do. My hesitation must have been obvious on my face because Roman added, “Ask your questions now if you have them.”

“What will you do to me? To earn these diamonds.”

“Whatever I want.”

“Will you fuck me in front of the cameras? In front of them?”

Roman smiled, closed the distance between us, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to me. He took hold of my nipple and pinched. It hurt but not unbearably so. I gasped at the uninvited touch, but didn’t try to pull away.

“Would you like that, dirty girl? For me to fuck you while others watch?”

“No,” I said in not much more than a whisper.

“You lie, Cheri. I can smell your desire. I can hear the way you breathe around me. Unlike the other women forced to earn their diamonds, you seemed to enjoy what happened in the bathroom. It was far from a punishment. It was as if everything was so natural for you. It fit you. It fit you like a fucking glove. You liked that you had an audience viewing just how dirty you are.”

He pinched my nipple harder as I shook my head to try to deny the fact that, yes, my body had responded in a shocking way.

No. He was wrong.

Fuck. Was he wrong?

His smile grew as his dark eyes narrowed. “Which I’m going to enjoy. I’m going to have a good time finding an actual punishment for you. I may have to get creative.”

I pressed my thighs together to try to hide the fact that his words and biting hold of my nipple made me wet.

“Why do you all do this?” I asked. My words came out on a gasp, so I wondered if they were even clear enough to be heard. I had already asked this question, but maybe if I kept asking it, someone would finally answer and make sense out of it all.

“Old, royal blood runs deep, I guess you could say. Ultimate power and the thirst for domination never goes away,” he said in a deep and solemn voice.

His hand left my nipple, which oddly my body seemed to miss. But my longing for his touch didn’t last long because he lowered his hand between my legs and pressed past the silky folds.

I couldn’t hold back the whimper and closed my eyes in shame.

People were watching…

“Why are you wet, Cheri? Is it my words, the thought of what’s still to come, or simply the pain from my hand?”

He ran his fingertip along the wetness, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t control my breathing or the little noises of betrayal that escaped my dry lips. Just as quickly as Roman had touched my pussy, he removed his hand and took hold of my hair at the scalp again.

He yanked hard on my hair.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Not yet, dirty girl. Not yet.” He tugged harder, forcing my head back, exposing my neck as a vampire would do before feasting on his prey’s blood.

I whimpered not really out of pain but out of anticipation. My body sizzled in need, and my very core screamed for more. Every word, every touch, every single thing about Roman set my body aflame—all while viewers watched it all. I was an animal in a zoo.

An animal.

I should be screaming. I should be fighting. I should be resisting this nightmare the best I could. Instead, I welcomed it. No… I fucking craved it. I was broken. I was shattered into a million pieces and needed Roman to fix me. I needed the fix. I needed my Prince. No matter how dark he was forced to be with me.

“Stand up,” he commanded. “Stand right in front of me between my legs.”

I did as he asked, though how I stood on such weakened legs, I had no idea. My head felt light and my breathing felt tight.

“Part your cunt for me. I want to see my dirty kitty and her wet, bare pussy.”

Never imagining myself engaged in such an act like this, I did as he asked. As if I were hypnotized by the silkiness of his directions—because that was the only thing that could explain such complete madness that was raging through me—I brought my shaky fingers to my smooth pussy lips and spread them wide for his viewing… for everyone’s viewing.

Roman reached up and pushed his thumb into my mouth. “Suck my thumb, dirty girl. Suck on it good so I can rub it around that tiny clit of yours until you scream for me to fuck you.”

I ran my tongue against the rough and callused skin and never released the hold of my pussy. I was still spreading myself wide as I sucked on his thumb just as he wanted me to do. My eyes connected with his for a split moment, and I wondered if it was hunger I saw hidden in their depths.

“Beg for my cock. Beg.” He pulled his thumb out of my mouth and pressed it against my clit. I cried out in pleasure, but held my position. I didn’t want to let go of my spread lips in fear he would stop the most wicked of his touches so far. “Beg,” he commanded again.

“Please, Master. My little hole wants to be spread open by your cock.” The words were so natural. They seemed to flow from my lips without the slightest hesitation or thought.

His ministrations froze and he chuckled. “Oh, my dirty, dirty girl. Having you call me Master was for The Iron Colt Brotherhood’s benefit and viewing pleasure… but I like it. I think we’ll keep it that way even after we are wed. And I think I finally have found your first real punishment. That building orgasm inside of you will remain right where it is.” He spanked my pussy hard, forcing me to release the spread of my skin. “For now.”

Roman stood up and pushed my upper half over the bed. “Stay bent over,” he said.

I tried to regain my breath and steady my raging emotions. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t process. All I could do was stare at my spread fingers against the bedspread as I heard the sound of a belt being removed from the loops of Roman’s pants.

“The Iron Colt Brotherhood have some requests. Every single morning you will be paddled and every night you will receive a lashing from my belt. The severity will all depend on how good of a girl you have been leading up to it.”

Before I could process his words, the stinging crash of leather against skin had me howling out. The pain radiated all the way to my needy pussy, only intensifying my out-of-control hunger.

“Please,” I pleaded as he whipped me once again.

“Yes, Cheri. Keep begging.”

“Please…”

“Are you begging for me to stop belting you, or to fuck you?”

He brought the belt down against my sensitive ass again but rather than crying, I moaned.

The belt fell upon me again, and I moaned some more.

“Little pain slut. You like when your Master spanks your ass as you pray he will eventually fuck you.”

Tears of indignity and degradation fell as my orgasm built inside of me. My body became more alive with every searing swat. Yes. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to be fucked hard. But not before he finished the discipline. The most twisted and sexual punishment one could imagine. My mind screamed no. My ass screamed for mercy. But my core, my inner being, my soul begged for more.

Just as the most intense explosion was about to release, Roman ceased the spanking.

I cried out even louder than I ever had during the spanking.

“Yes, my naughty princess. I am going to enjoy this very much.”

I heard the sound of his footsteps approach the door, and I turned my head to see him holding the door handle. My heart fell to my stomach as I still remained in position for more.

“No,” I whispered so low that I was sure Roman couldn’t hear me. I didn’t want him to leave. No.

“Tomorrow I’ll be back. You just earned yourself two diamonds.”

Chapter Fifteen

Roman

This was harder than I thought. For so many reasons. I stormed into the room assigned to me for the duration of my stay at the manor and slammed the door closed behind me. I scanned the upper corners of the room to make sure there weren’t any cameras present, prepared to destroy them if there were. I was the son of a fucking king, and I was getting damn tired of following the rules of The Iron Colt Brotherhood. I was two seconds from telling all of them to go fuck themselves and try to come after me. Try motherfuckers. Try.

I walked over to the window and stared out, not really seeing anything as the rage inside nearly blinded me. I didn’t know if I should jack off to relieve my built up sexual tension or punch my fist through the window. Taking deep breaths, I tried to steady the near explosion wanting to burst from within. I had to think of Cheri and her safety. My temper wouldn’t just put me at risk, it would most certainly put her life in danger, and I knew it.

The elders of The Iron Colt Brotherhood were known for ridding the society of any trouble-makers, and I had to do everything within my power to assure them that Cheri and I were as far from that as I could. I had seen powerful men made to look like they committed suicide. I had seen fatal car jackings made to look random. I had even seen men who crossed the brotherhood to come down with the rarest terminal diseases. If The Iron Colt Brotherhood wanted you dead, there would be no escaping their grip. I knew I needed to comply with the fucked up initiation regardless of how powerful my family was. The Iron Colt Brotherhood would always be more.

But it was fucking hard.

To see Cheri in that room crying and begging to leave, nearly destroyed me. But if I showed any weakness at all, I knew the brotherhood would insist on someone else doing the initiation which meant I would murder someone. I wouldn’t hesitate to slit the throat of the first man to touch my Cheri. So I had to be harsh, ruthless, merciless. I was an alpha and dominant by nature, but this initiation was taking the sadist in me to a completely new level. I would have to push myself further than I had ever gone before.

A firm knock on the door broke me from my deep thoughts. I was about to tell whoever was on the other side of the door to go fuck themselves and leave me alone, but I also knew that was my temper speaking.

“Yeah, come in,” I called out.

I turned to see my friend, and my business partner of Spiked Roses walking in. I didn’t expect to see Alec even though I knew he was a member of The Iron Colt Brotherhood. I knew that he too tried to keep his distance from the society.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked him, though was very happy to see a familiar face that I could trust.

“I was worried about you after you left our meeting at Spiked Roses. I figured you would need a friend right about now.”

“I appreciate it,” I said as I approached him and shook his hand. “I need someone to talk me off the damn ledge. I’m two seconds from storming into Cheri’s room and yanking her out of this manor and telling all the brothers to go to hell.”

“And you know they will kill you both for it,” Alec said.

“Which is why I haven’t done it yet.”

“I saw the video of what you were doing to Cheri. I’m sorry I watched, but it was the only way I could get in here to talk to you. I needed to play along even though I sure as fuck felt like I was invading your privacy.”

“I get it. No worries.”

“You are doing a good job,” he said. “I know that might not make you feel better, but no one would question if you are the man to do the job. You are coming across hard enough. Cruel and unrelenting. I know they are paying close attention to your every move and action to see if they need to assign another man… or men.”

“I know. Which is why I’m turning up the asshole meter.”

Alec chuckled. “Well, it’s working.

“Great. Just how I want my fiancée to see me,” I said with a smirk. I knew Cheri loved me, but she had never seen this side of me. I just hoped that her feelings for me wouldn’t change when this was all over. But then… how could they not?

“She knew what she was getting herself into, my friend. She isn’t some wilting flower who is going to break into hysterics. You know this, or you would have never asked her to earn her way into the brotherhood. And frankly,” Alec took a few steps back and smiled, “it appeared as if she may not be hating it all. I think you’ve got a little vixen on your hands.”

“She’s scared.”

Alec nodded. “Yes, but she’s also completely surrendering to you already. This is going to be much easier than you might think. You just have to stay focused and not lose your cool. You have to play along. From what I saw of Cheri, I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you.”

Sighing, I said, “Yeah, I know. I’m not good at following orders.”

“I hear you on that. But you have to. Do it for Cheri. She’s going to be able to handle everything you give her. I can see it in her. Don’t underestimate her strength.”

Chapter Sixteen

Cheri

Again and again, I awoke with a lashing. I went to bed sore from the strike of Roman’s hand on my sensitive ass. I awoke to an excruciating session with the paddle, and went to bed with the kiss of his belt once again. Over and over, the routine continued. One diamond at a time.

One excruciating earned diamond at a time.

The days were filled with other acts of submission. Long hours kneeling or standing at attention whenever, wherever, and for however long Roman felt I needed to. He touched me, but never enough. And that was the worst part. Over and over he would slap, pinch, touch parts of my body and bring me right to the edge of ecstasy, only to pull away and leave me with the worst need imaginable. Every hour my hunger for him grew. Every second my lust intensified. I dreamed of his touch, and I fantasized of the day he would finally put his cock inside of me.

But he never did.

That was my punishment.

That was my penance for the sake of The Iron Colt Brotherhood.

And oh, how I paid, suffered, and slowly earned one diamond at a time. I cried. I pleaded. I begged for more. I had no shame or pride left. I longed for Roman to be near and never leave me, and when he did leave for the night, I sobbed for hours waiting for sunlight to come, for it brought the return of my monster. My only strength was when he was near. My body craved him like a drug, and I was weak without him. So fucking weak. He was my dark prince, and he truly had mastered my body. When he said I was his—that my body was his—I’d had no idea how correct he would be.

“Are you a good girl or a bad girl?” he asked as he had grown accustomed to asking all the mornings he arrived in a new crisp suit with a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

“What do you want me to be?” I answered like I always did when he would take his belt and run it along my punished and upturned flesh after he spanked me.

“Today I want you to be bad. I want you to talk dirty to me so I can punish that mouth of yours.”

I turned my head just enough to see him towering over me as I was bent over the bed and gave a wicked smirk. “Fuck you, Master. Fuck you.”

We had played this game in the past. He would force me to act out just so he could punish me more severely. Often times he would have Gage record these acts for The Iron Colt Brotherhood to view more intimately and close up. He seemed to like it most when I punched or kicked, and especially when I called him names. He seemed fueled by my mock hatred of him, though we both knew it was all for show. He knew how desperate I was for more. He could see the arousal coat my pussy and dampen my inner thighs. He would wipe at my tears of frustration as my stomach tightened and cramped from a growing need for release never to be granted. He would make promises that if I was a good girl, that maybe someday I would get a taste of my Master’s cock.

I wanted a taste so badly.

I wasn’t sure how many days, or how many nights passed, but Roman had changed the woman I once was. He broke down my walls and left me wide open for the taking. My battle scars were left without bandages, and Roman only opened the wounds wider.

“You have a filthy mouth, my soon to be bride,” he said as he walked toward my bathroom.

I held my position bent over the bed, schooled in what would happen if I acted on my own free will without permission.

“I think it’s time I teach you what happens to girls with dirty, filthy mouths,” he said as he disappeared from my sight.

My pussy throbbed at the warning in his voice. I had no idea what he had in store, and though I was sure parts of me would hate every moment of what Roman had planned for this morning’s session, other more sinful parts of me would love every torturous second of his evil ministrations to my body, mind, and soul.

“Kneel,” he commanded as he reentered the bedroom with something fisted in his hand, and a glass of water in the other.

I quickly did as he asked, licking my lips in anticipation of what was to come. A chance to earn more diamonds. Diamonds that I had long lost count of. I no longer paid my penance for diamonds. No. I paid my penance for Roman. For the one day he would deem me worthy of his cock being buried inside of me again, making me come and cry out his name.

There was a time in my life, I would have screamed and shouted at any woman who would submit to a man. Especially to a man as strict and severe as Roman. But I no longer cared. Rules of society had ceased existing the minute I walked through the doors of the manor. Life as it once was no longer existed for me. My nightmare had become a fantasy, and my fantasies had become this nightmare.

Obviously, this was the goal of The Iron Colt Brotherhood.

“It’s time your Master teaches you a lesson,” he said as he stood before me, placed the water by my knees as well as a bar of soap, and unfastened his pants. When his hard cock popped out from its constraints, he said, “It’s time I clean that mouth of yours out.”

I stared at his cock in awe. It was thick, big, and hard—hard for me.

“I want you to wet my cock with your tongue, then rub the bar of soap all over it.”

When I didn’t move fast enough, still processing his words in my foggy brain, he took hold of his dick and slapped it across my face. He then pressed his cock past my lips before I had a chance to do it of my own free will, though willing I was. I moved my head up and down, swirling my tongue as I did so, savoring the taste of my prince.

“Get it nice and wet,” he said huskily.

He took hold of my hair and guided my head at a speed he chose. Up and down, I sucked and softly moaned against his cock. I licked every inch I could, not wanting one inch of his length missed. I all but devoured him. His salty taste and the essence of his manhood flooding my senses, I coated his throbbing sex entirely.

“Now grab that bar of soap by you and coat my cock. It’s time I wash your mouth out with soap, naughty girl.”

“Yes, Master,” I said as my pussy ached for attention.

I picked up the white bar and started caressing Roman’s cock with it. Small suds formed as the soap mixed with my saliva. I stroked the soap up and down the length of his shaft just as I knew Roman wanted me to do.

“Now place my cock in your mouth, naughty girl. This is what you get for having a filthy mouth. Time we cleanse it.”

Not stopping to consider the awful taste or just how much this truly would be a punishment, I placed Roman’s soap-coated penis inside my mouth and began sucking as I once had. I whimpered as the dreadful taste attacked. I gagged as the tip of his cock pressed against the back of my throat with the soap only intensifying the sensation.

“Bad girls get their mouths washed out with soap,” he said, tugging my hair when I tried to pull back as I sucked in air to help ease the turmoil occurring inside my mouth.

Using his other hand, he reached down and cupped my breast, changing my whimpers to a moan.

Mercifully removing his dick from my mouth, Roman spread his pre-cum mixed with remnants of soap on my lips as he said, “Let me paint this perfect pink pout of yours. I’m about to make you Master’s cum slut.”

I looked up into his eyes and nodded.

He slapped the head of his cock against my cheek. “You want your Master’s cock, dirty princess? Do you want your Master to punish you now with his cock?”

Fuck, yes. Fuck, yes! Although my words were lost in my own hunger begging to be satiated.

I wanted him so badly. I wanted him to split me wide open with his cock. My pure white sexual experiences from before were about to become pitch black. I wanted raw. I wanted depraved. I wanted dark emotions and desires. And I knew that Roman was the only one who would truly give me what I wanted, and what I so desperately needed. Everything had been leading up to this. He had opened a Pandora’s Box of horrific fantasies and delights hidden deep within, and now that they were unleashed, he was the only man who could tame them.

“Take a drink of water, swish it around in your mouth, and then spit it out back into the glass,” he ordered.

I was grateful for this, because though the soap misery had dissipated some, I did wish to rid the inner lining of my mouth of the residue. As I swished and spit the last bit out into the glass, Roman bent down and placed his hands under my arms, lifting me to standing. He then swooped me into his arms and carried me over to the bed. The tender touch and almost loving gesture had my mind spinning with the wicked and twisted lust from my naughty discipline only moments ago.

The softness was quickly replaced, however, when he placed me on my back and spread my legs wide. Without pause, he swatted my pussy, causing me to jump and cry out in surprise.

“We are going to make these lips of your cunt swell so every time I thrust into you, you cry out in pain.” He swatted my bare pussy again and again. The sting only heightened my need for more.

“Please…” I begged like so many times before, but this time I felt like my pleas may actually be answered.

My heart skipped a beat when Roman quickly shed himself of his clothing. His actions were smooth and graceful, but not nearly fast enough for my need. I thought about sitting up and assisting him in getting undressed but remained frozen. I didn’t want to do a single thing to have Roman change his mind or decide I needed another punishment instead.

When the weight of the bed shifted as he straddled my body, my heart hitched. This was it. I glanced down at his cock and a tiny twinge of fear set in when I wondered if others would be watching as he fucked me.

Roman lowered his weight upon me and positioned his cock at my pussy. The meaty head stretched my hole wide as he entered, and I moaned with the biting pain. He didn’t give me any time to get used to his girth but rather began thrusting in and out at a steady pace. There were no kisses. No caresses. No loving words of affection. The actions were cold yet the heat between us blazed to the epic proportion of an inferno. My body exploded almost instantly, finally free to release the long overdue energy that had been pent up since the beginning of my captivity. Roman hadn’t given me permission to come, but I didn’t care. I would accept whatever punishment he would deliver for my actions later. It would be worth it. So fucking worth it.

As I cried out his name and my pussy contracted around his cock, he pulled his face back enough so he could look into my eyes. Maybe it was the sexual energy flowing through me, or maybe it was simply wishful thinking, but I saw something in his eyes.

Softness.

Emotion beyond what normally only belonged to a sadist.

Connection.

For a brief moment, he had allowed us to be the Roman and Cherise of before. Before the initiation.

Roman continued to push and pull inside of me as his eyes never left mine. In and out, I saw him. In and out, I felt him. In and out, Roman seemed to merge with not just my body, but my soul. I was his… I had been his for a long time. But at this very moment, I truly believed he was…

He was mine.

He was my dark prince, and I was never going to let him go.

I never wanted this moment to end. Never. But eventually, my body exploded again, and it was all that Roman needed to groan loudly and give one final thrust as he came inside of me. Taking a few minutes to gather his senses as he breathed against the pillow beside my head, he eventually pulled his face back and stared at me again. He didn’t say anything, nor did I. But something was different at that moment.

He was not a monster.

He was a man.

Nothing but a man.

I was not the prey.

I was a woman.

Nothing but a woman.

But we were together. We were as one. We were in this nightmare together, and we both knew it.

Chapter Seventeen

Cheri

The days continued on, as did the regular and routine punishments. Roman had only fucked me one more time, and it was not the same as before. He had simply pushed me against a wall and quickly took me from behind in an animalistic way before he tanned my ass with a strap. I had longed for even a quick glimpse of that connection we had when we first had sex. I hungered for it as I had once hungered for his cock to be inside of me. I wanted all of Roman.

I had seen small glimpses of the old Roman I knew before the manor. He was still strict as ever, but I also received tender touches. He would carry me to bed after a session, and he had even held me as I fell asleep several evenings. He had bathed me, brushed my hair, and had started taking every meal with me in the dining room. He wasn’t as cold as he had been when we first arrived. Yes, he was still a severe disciplinarian, but when I was his perfect dirty kitty and had purred in submission like the good kitty he wanted me to be, he usually rewarded me with kindness, even if it was just in small doses. Because I hungered to see and to feel more of that connection, I constantly searched for it in his eyes and in his actions, and I knew without a doubt that I could see it. I most certainly could feel it. Not all the time… but the times did exist.

Yes, I was still earning my diamonds.

But there was something different in the way Roman watched me. In the way he touched me. And even in the way he punished me.

There were still constant reminders of my reality, however. The Iron Colt Brotherhood had requested other enema sessions, which Gage always recorded for them. The Iron Colt Brotherhood also demanded often to have a close-up recording of many spankings where I had to hold my butt cheeks spread wide so they could see my anus as it too would be spanked and prodded for their viewing. Roman was always far harsher with me when the camera was rolling close up, and I knew that it was expected for me to have the tears flow. Even if I didn’t particularly feel like crying, I knew it would please Roman. I think he knew it was what The Iron Colt Brotherhood wanted to see—my pain, my suffering, my miserable initiation to prove I was worthy. And whenever I performed for The Iron Colt Brotherhood as I knew Roman wanted, he would reward me with a caress, or a touch that made my heart soar. But Roman wanted The Iron Colt Brotherhood to see me as a captive hating every single minute of her stay in the manor, and I played the part perfectly.

If The Iron Colt Brotherhood only knew.

If they only knew just how much my body craved the darkness. Roman wasn’t the monster. I was the fucking monster. I wanted and actually liked every single lick of pain. I ached for the next fix. I absolutely writhed in agony when I was without Roman and his touch. I was an addict, and Roman was the only one who could deliver the drug I craved.

“You only have five more diamonds to earn,” he said after my evening belting. “Five more until you are free to go.”

It was as if ice cold water had been thrown on my quivering body. My heart froze as my knees buckled, and I fell to the floor. I looked up into Roman’s stunned face with wide eyes and shook my head in denial.

With furrowed brow, he kneeled down and took my hand in his. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” The look of concern on his face was foreign, and I took a moment to absorb an element of the man I barely remembered.

“I’m not sick.” Although I couldn’t breathe normally, and my body grew clammy.

Roman wiped a loose strand of hair from my face and placed his palm on my forehead. “What’s going on, Cheri? Do you need a doctor or something?” He pulled my shivering body against his and cradled me.

“What happens then?” I asked in a whisper. “When I earn the final five diamonds?”

“I told you. You will be free. The Iron Colt Brotherhood are men of their word.”

“What about the wedding? Do we still get married when this is all done?”

Roman surprised me when he kissed the top of my head and still held me securely in his arms. “Is that what has you like this?” He kissed my head again. “Yes, we can leave and start our lives together. I told The Iron Colt Brotherhood to expect your release tomorrow.”

“But what if I don’t want that?” I said as I tilted my head so I could look up at him.

“Don’t want what?” His eyes darkened.

“What if I don’t want to leave here?” I swallowed hard. “To leave what you and I have… what we have here.”

Roman recoiled as if I had just slapped his face. “What are you talking about? Of course you want to leave here.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t.”

Roman shot to his feet, and his look of concern was quickly replaced by one of fury. “Have you lost your mind? You are about to be free. No more diamonds. No more punishments.”

“But also”—I sniffed as the tears finally fell from my eyes—“no more you. I have you all to myself. We are in a little bubble, regardless how dark it is. I don’t want to lose the connection that we have formed.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” he snapped. He shook his head. “Of course you want to leave here. What person in their right mind would want to stay?”

“Me. I want to stay. To stay here with you.”

“Cheri.”

“Is that so wrong?” I moved myself into the kneeling position I knew Roman liked me to assume. “I don’t want to leave you. Here. I feel safe with you and comforted in your hands, no matter how firm they are. You called me a pain slut, and maybe you are correct in that as well. I do like it. I love it. You know more about me than anyone ever has before. The real me. You have stripped me naked from the inside out. You said I was yours. I am! I truly am.”

“It doesn’t have to stop once we leave,” Roman said with a wicked glimmer in his eye. “Trust me. It doesn’t have to stop, nor do I intend for that to happen.”

“But it will. We will go back to the flashing lights, the wedding planning, the proper behavior of a princess and a prince. The thought of that life damn near suffocates me. It’s why I ran away so long ago to Costa Rica. Being here… as sick as this is going to sound, is the first time I have felt… secure. Comfortable with who I am and with my desires. I’ve changed being here. I feel like I have figured out a dark secret. I have figured out what it is I want. And I one hundred percent know I want you.”

“I agree. Which in many ways is why the initiation happens. It’s meant to break the old you in order for you to truly embrace who you really are. But that doesn’t mean we are staying.”

“So when we leave—”

“We figure it out,” he interrupted. “But right now, Cheri, you have five more diamonds left.”

He once again grabbed a fistful of my hair. I hissed as the sting intensified, but as I was about to beg for more, Roman brought his lips down upon mine. Passion erupted as he pressed his tongue inside my mouth and danced it within. A kiss from my prince. His breath merged with mine as our bodies pressed together and our kiss intensified.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he said between his claiming of my mouth.

I held onto his shoulders hoping to never let go. I hoped desperately Roman would not force me to let go of the only thing—the only person—I wanted.

Breaking the kiss but still holding me close, he said, “You have five diamonds to still earn.”

Fresh tears built and clouded my vision as I stared into his stern expression. He brought his lips to mine again. He then swooped me into his arms like the first time we connected and carried me to the bed. “Five diamonds will be rewarded when you milk my cock dry with that tight pussy of yours.”

I looped my arms around his neck, nuzzled my head into his shoulder, and sighed as a wave of euphoria washed over me. I pulled back and looked into his eyes as we neared the bed. “And I will earn my diamonds like a dirty girl, Master.”

Chapter Eighteen

Roman

We sat in the car driving back to Cheri’s mother’s house in silence. I watched a woman I loved more than ever stare blankly out the window. I understood she had been through a lot and wasn’t exactly sure how to handle her. She was dressed for the first time in weeks, and I’m sure the sensation of clothing as well as seeing something other than the interior of the manor had to feel foreign.

“The media shouldn’t be there when we arrive. They’ll still be trying to find us in Monaco. It’s where Silas tipped them off that we are at.”

Cheri nodded but didn’t say anything. Her eyes still locked on the passing scenery.

“I’m proud of you,” I said as I reached for her hand. Her soft, delicate palm rested limply in mine, though she didn’t pull it away. “I know returning to the real world is going to be an adjustment.”

Silence. She wouldn’t even look at me, but I didn’t feel as if she were angry—more like lost in thought.

“I have already notified your mother of our arrival, so she will be expecting you. Both she and my parents have already started wedding planning, which isn’t surprising. I know that may not be the first thing you want to deal with when you return home, but it’s inevitable. Plus, the sooner we are married, the sooner we can be together all the time. I hate the thought of dropping you off, but it’s only temporary.”

I watched Cheri’s lip quiver and her eyes glassed over with tears.

“Cheri,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Everything is going to be all right. I promise you that I will try to make this entire wedding process painless. But I want you to fight for what you want. Don’t let my parents or your mother bully you. If you need me to unleash my wrath on them all to give you your dream wedding, you tell me so.”

“It’s not just the wedding planning,” she said softly. “I’m sad.”

“Because we left the manor?” I still couldn’t believe her fascination with the place and the desire to remain.

“Everything just felt right there.”

“And it will feel right again.” I pulled her into my arms and kissed the top of her head. She snuggled herself into me as if her life depended on it. Her delicate hands clung to my back as if she were never going to let me go.

“Promise me,” she said. “Promise me we won’t lose ourselves in the madness still to come.”

“I promise.”

* * *

Roman

“It’s about time you graced us with your presence,” Kenneth teased as all the managing members of Spiked Roses took their seats around the table. “We were about to send a search party after you.”

“Good to be back,” I said. “Thank you all for holding down the fort while I was away. What I did needed to be done.”

“And is everything fine now?” Harley asked, no doubt curious if he needed to step in to help matters his way.

“Everything’s fine now. Cheri handled the situation far better than I ever could have imagined. Because of her, I seriously doubt I’m going to have to deal with The Iron Colt Brotherhood again.”

“We can always hope,” Alec added. “Best to lay low with those fuckers.”

“Can we all try to not have any dealings with them in the future?” Matthew asked. “I’m getting sick of their shit.”

“Agreed,” Lennon added. “I’ve never been a member or had any interaction. Well unless you count the wealthy as fuck men I have stolen from. Guilty as charged in that regards.”

“I’ve had my fill of them as well,” Victor added. “Let’s move on and not bring up that archaic group again.”

Kenneth began the meeting by going over our numbers. We all brainstormed for different themes for the next Tasting. He discussed some future repairs that needed to be done, and informed us that we had passed all the inspections that had come in. I tried to focus on the business, but my mind kept going back to Cheri. It had been a day since I dropped her off, and it felt like a lifetime. I was so used to seeing her every single day and having her body at my beck and call. I fucking missed it. I fucking missed her.

After the meeting was over, I was the first to leave the room, anxious to see my fiancée. We had been apart for long enough.

“Roman,” I heard being called out from behind me.

I turned to see Tennessee approaching. “You better get your royal butt over to that house of crazy. I agreed to help with the wedding planning when Cheri’s mother asked, but I did not agree to be the psychologist and babysitter. That girl hasn’t gotten out of bed since she returned, and her mother is about to lose her damn mind.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Is she sick?”

“Who the fuck knows. But I can’t get her out of bed, and we have a shit load of wedding planning to do. I need her help. Oh and while I have you,” Tennessee reached into his man bag he was carrying and pulled out a manila folder, “I need to know what style of tux you want. What picture calls to you?” He opened the folder to a stack of photos.

I wanted to say I couldn’t care less, but I had learned a long time ago that me acting like I didn’t care, minimized the feelings of the person asking. So scanning through the photos, I pointed to one and said, “This one unless Cheri wants something else. She’s the boss.”

“Cheri can’t even brush her own damn teeth let alone be a boss. You better get over there and knock some sense into her. Give her mother an elephant tranquilizer while you’re at it.”

Tennessee didn’t have to ask me twice. I expected Cheri to have an odd transition back into her normal day life, but I hadn’t expected it to hit her so hard. She was not one to wallow or be depressed, so to hear this troubling news had me rushing out of Spiked Roses without even saying goodbye.

It didn’t take me long to reach Cheri’s mother’s house. I was going to just enter the house and charge up to her room, but decided to give her mother the courtesy of asking permission to enter. I was surprised when it was her mother answering the door.

“Oh thank goodness you are here, Roman. I am beside myself.”

“What’s going on?”

“Ever since you dropped her off from your vacation, she hasn’t gotten out of bed or eaten a thing. I understand that jet lag can be awful sometimes, but I’ve explained to her that we have her dress fitting tomorrow, and we have nail appointments and hair before that. There is no time for her to be sleeping. I even offered to have a nurse come to the house with an IV if she felt dehydrated or thought it would help fight the lag.”

I knew there was no jet lag since we hadn’t even left Louisiana, but it was best to have her mother think what she did.

“I’ll go check on her and see what I can do,” I said calmly while giving her mother a reassuring pat on the upper arm. “Keep the appointments tomorrow. I’m sure she will be fine by then.”

“Thank you. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

Oh, she’ll listen to me.

“Go ahead and do whatever you had planned for the afternoon. I’ll stay with her and make sure she gets something to eat.”

Her face lit up with glee as if I had just freed her of a jail sentence. “You are going to be such a wonderful son-in-law. I couldn’t ask for a better one.” She turned on her heels and left me quickly. Maybe she was afraid I would change my mind.

I hated hearing that there was something wrong with Cheri, and I would do anything for her. But first, I needed to go see what was going on.

Chapter Nineteen

Cheri

A thundering storm by the name of Roman Cassian swooshed into my bedroom. There was no polite knock, no asking if he could be let in, not even my mother standing by his side allowing his entrance. He marched over to where I lay in my bed feeling sorry for myself and sat on the edge with concern washed all over his face.

Placing his hand softly on my cheek, and then my forehead, he asked, “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t sick, though I was pretty sure I looked it.

“Tired?” he asked.

I shook my head again.

His brow furrowed. “Then what? Why haven’t you eaten or gotten out of bed. You have your mother and Tennessee in a real tizzy. They both are two seconds from strokes.”

He smirked, and normally hearing his words teasing my mom and my dear friend would have made me smile in return, but I felt nothing but a thick blanket of darkness.

The smile left his face when I didn’t show any emotion at all to his comment. “Cheri, what’s wrong? Tell me?”

I took a deep breath and fought the urge to just pull my blankets over my head and hide from his questions. “I just need time.”

“Time for what? To sleep?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just feel sad.”

“Because we left the manor?” he asked.

“Yes.”

I expected Roman to be angry that I still hadn’t let that notion go, but instead he crawled into bed with me and pulled me into his arms. I rested my head on his chest and snuggled close. It was the first time since returning home that I felt a sense of security. His simple hold of me was washing my demons away little by little. I inhaled his scent as if the aroma was the very air I needed to breathe to survive.

“I know the initiation was hard on you, but—”

“That’s just it,” I interrupted. “It’s harder being back. I feel lost. At least there, I had a purpose. I had a mission. My life was about the initiation. I was told what to do every second I was there, and I grew accustomed to it. You were my everything there. There was not a part of my existence that didn’t involve you. I guess it was a dark bubble. A fucked up bubble. But a bubble that I am sad to see pop.”

“But I told you—”

“Yes, yes. That it wouldn’t change, but it already has. I’m here in my bed alone, you are off doing whatever it is you do, and things have changed.”

Roman kissed me on the top of my head. “It’s temporary. I told you that.”

“But is it?” I asked as I looked up so I could see his eyes looking down upon me. “Or am I destined to live the life of my mother? Galas, charity events, hair and nail appointments, tea with other women who live as boring lives as I do? Is this the life I am to live as Princess Cherise Cassian?”

“Not if you don’t want to. You… we can do whatever we want. If you don’t want that proper, perfectly groomed, and clean life, I assure you we can definitely dirty it up. What happened at the manor was just a small taste of what’s to come. I plan to treat you like a lady in public but treat you like the dirty kitty you are in the bedroom.”

My heart skipped at his words. “You do?”

“Why do you look so shocked? Did you really peg me for a man who would all of a sudden turn vanilla just because we got married?”

“Well… our lives are just so formal and structured.”

“So you assumed that our sex life would be as well?”

My face heated. I couldn’t believe that I was damn near slipping into a pit of depression because I was afraid the man wouldn’t dominate me like he did at the manor.

“Trust me, dirty girl. I will be your Master from this day forth. Nothing has changed. Nothing.”

“God, I feel so needy,” I admitted, hating my weakness but at the same time loving the fact that I could be vulnerable and honest with the man I was about to marry. “And it’s not just the sex. Though I had no idea until the manor how important that was to me. It’s our life. I don’t want to become my mother. I don’t want you to become your father.”

Roman laughed loudly, causing his chest to bounce my head around as he did so. “I could never be anything like my father. You saw Spiked Roses. Could you even picture my father, or even my brothers stepping foot in that place? And as much as you are afraid of becoming your mother… I just don’t see that happening. I agree with you. I want adventure, spice, and an excitement in our life that is laced with some dark tinges of taboo. Nothing will whiten our soiled souls. I love you, Cheri. I love how you are just as twisted and debauched as me. I love knowing that our lives will be anything but boring. I promise you this. I promise you a life that will take you to the edge of lunacy.”

“I love you. And I love that you want this too.” God, I craved this man. There was no doubt about it. It was a deep type of love that caused an undercurrent of madness.

Roman adjusted his body so he could bring his lips down upon mine. With a perfect blend of force and gentleness, he mastered my mouth as only he could do. My body lit with excitement and any sadness or depression I had had was drowned by my need to have him buried deep inside of me again.

He pulled from the kiss and looked at me with darkened eyes. “You are about to marry into royalty.”

“I know,” I said as I lowered my hand to his hardened cock that unfortunately for me was restricted by the fabric of his pants. My body, mind and soul were hungry for my king. He would be my king in every single way.

“Which means that crown jewels are very important.”

I arched an eyebrow as I unzipped his pants and took his cock into my hands. “Is that so?”

“I collect diamonds. Very, very expensive and priceless diamonds.”

I laughed as I began to pump his dick with my fisted hand.

“I expect my princess bride to help me acquire these diamonds.”

I nodded as I licked my lips, preparing to place his cock inside my mouth. “I will consider it my royal duty… Master.”

The End

Sinners & Gin

Chapter One

Matthew

Nothing would stop me until the job was done.

Consequences.

There would be extreme consequences that would be delivered swiftly.

This is how I did business. They would all see my wrath and what that entailed.

He would see. He would feel. He would beg for my fucking mercy.

There was a code of conduct in business. A level of respect that should always be followed. Vittorio Costa broke that rule, disrespected me, and I was done playing nice.

“It’s fucked up.” Harley Crow was the first of my business partners sitting around the ridiculously expensive and nearly priceless conference table to chime in. “He thinks because he’s a boss that he’s untouchable. Those mafia fucks always think they’re invincible.”

“Yeah well that mafia fuck needs to be checked,” Kenneth Saxon—the usually level-headed managing member of our business—snarled.

It wasn’t just the loss of money that pissed me off. It was the theft. It was the blatant fuck you the man was sending me. I got the message loud and clear, and it damn near caused my blood boil.

I appreciated the support from my seven business partners. I knew that if one of us were fucked with, we all were fucked with to some degree. We didn’t just own Spiked Roses together. We were more. We were practically brothers.

“I’ll handle it,” Harley Crow stated simply. Killing someone wasn’t something new for this assassin, although I knew he was trying to clean up that part of his past. Deep down, he wanted his killing days to be behind him forever. A harder task than he had planned.

And besides… this was my problem.

Vittorio had entered my empire, and I was the king who needed to rule over my new enemy’s demise.

“Listen, gentlemen, if we fuck with the mafia…” Lennon Wolf began, “I’m not saying we don’t get Matthew’s shipment returned but killing the man might not be the best plan of action.”

“I don’t want him dead,” I said between my clenched teeth. “I have a much better plan. One that will make it known to all to not fuck with Matthew Price. You don’t steal from me. You don’t even breathe on what is mine.”

“Let’s all take a deep breath,” Alec Sheldon chimed in calmly with his southern drawl as he smoked off his cigar as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His nonchalance would have been infuriating had I not known that a calm before the storm was simply Alec’s way. “How many stolen paintings are we talking?”

It wasn’t just the paintings, although I had plans for the ten pieces that were being shipped to me from Naples. It was the fact that behind each painting, tucked away in the back panel, were priceless diamonds. The shipment served a dual purpose, and clearly Vittorio Costa got wind of what was really inside those crates.

The fucker beat my men to the transport ship.

“Enough,” I answered. “I didn’t build my businesses by allowing someone to get one over on me. I sure as hell won’t start now.” I clenched my fists so hard that I lost feeling in them and had to release the pressure.

“Does he know you know it was him?” Victor Drayton asked.

“Does it fucking matter?” I snapped. “And no, I don’t believe he knows I’m aware that it was him who took the shipment. Which helps me in what I have in store. It’ll be a fucked up surprise he doesn’t see coming.”

“So, what’s your plan?” Kenneth asked me. He knew that I was a lot like him. Where Harley would rather just go and shoot the man dead, Kenneth and I were more civilized in how we conducted our business. Although no one would dare steal from Harley Crow so maybe I should have taken note on that fact and just killed the fucker who dared mess with me. But my sinister plan would be a torturous revenge.

“To have him beg for me to take my paintings back.”

The men around the conference table snickered and shook their heads as they all sipped from their drink of choice.

Roman Cassian chuckled the loudest. “And how is that going to happen? We can steal them back, but I highly doubt the man is just going to give them willingly back. Let alone beg.”

“He’s having a party in Aspen this coming weekend. He’s got a mansion up there and it’s invite only. I’m going to get invites for all of us under the guise that we are doing some research for Spiked Roses and our tasting parties. I don’t need anything more from you all other than your attendance.”

Each man smiled and nodded. They knew exactly what kind of party Vittorio Costa was throwing. He was known for his pet parties, and they attracted men and women from around the world to partake in. The seven owners of Spiked Roses attending was not something out of the ordinary and would be not only welcomed but practically expected that we would make an appearance.

“It’s fucking cold in Aspen,” Victor Drayton said with a smile. “But I’m down to be a spectator if it’ll help you.”

“I’m aware that most of you are in serious relationships, and I don’t expect you to do anything but show up, shake some hands, have a few drinks, and allow me to take it from there. No one needs to leave the party with a sexy kitty unless they want to. Or hell… bring your lady as your own pet.”

I glanced around the table to see everyone nodding and pondering what exactly their plan would be. Their willingness to dive into the belly of the monster and walk into a mafia boss’s kink party so I could enact my revenge said a lot about our friendship.

“Just don’t get yourself killed, man,” Harley Crow warned.

“Or allow this dark fury to eat you up,” Lennon added.

Too late.

Too fucking late.

I took a deep breath and started rattling off the details of the party so the men could add it to their schedules. Once I was done with the minor details, I excused myself and headed to the main floor of Spiked Roses in search of Tennessee Charles, our house manager. Once I saw him sitting at the bar going over some books, I pulled up a stool and sat next to him.

“I got a proposition for you,” I started.

Tennessee stopped what he was doing with an eyebrow arched in interest. “I do love when a man says those words to me,” he joked.

I ordered a Nolet’s Reserve Gin Modern—my drink of choice—when the bartender approached where we sat. “A vacation of sorts,” I began.

Tennessee snorted. “I haven’t had a vacation since I started at Spiked Roses. This place would fall apart without me.”

I nodded in agreement, and I hated to ask this of him, but Tennessee was the only one I trusted enough to do what I planned. He would be a vital part of my plan, and without him, I didn’t exactly think I could pull it off.

“Kenneth will be able to help out. He won’t run as tight of a ship as you, but the women will listen to him. And a change of scenery could do you good. You’ve been acting like a stick’s up your ass for weeks now.”

My drink arrived, and I took a sip as I looked at Tennessee who watched me with both confusion and uncertainty in his eyes. He was smart enough to know this was more than just a vacation offer.

“I have a place in the mountains of Colorado. It’s close enough to Aspen to be desirable, but far enough to be a true getaway from the stresses of life. I need you to go there and watch over it. Take care of the house, me when I’m there, and if I have any… guests. It’s remote so you would be the only staff there.”

“So, you need a mama?” Tennessee laughed. “You want me to go play house up there with you?”

“Yes,” I stated simply. “Can you cook?”

Tennessee raised his hand to his chest and acted offended. “Can I cook? Can I cook? The southern boy in me is insulted, Mr. Price.” He chuckled. “Of course I can fucking cook.”

“Well then,” I said. “How would you like to get away from the heat of New Orleans and enjoy some fresh mountain air?”

“How long?”

“I don’t know yet,” I answered honestly. “But it’s a huge house, beautiful scenery, and it will be stocked with whatever you want. I’ll also double your salary in cash while you are up there since it’s 24/7 that I need you.”

“What’s the catch?” he asked.

I smiled and took a sip of the gin. The smooth warmth of the liquid helped soothe the rage that was still within me.

When Tennessee saw I had no intention of answering his question, he took a moment to stare at me with squinted eyes. “All right. I’ll do it. But I’m not a cheap date. I don’t put out. So, don’t expect any funny business,” he teased. “When do I pack my bags?”

Taking the last swig of my drink, I stood up and patted the man’s back. “I’ll give you the details later today. Pack warm. It’s fucking cold up there in the mountains.”

Chapter Two

Aria

I hated this house. There was absolutely nothing I enjoyed about coming to Aspen, Colorado. The mountain lodge opulence made me sick. There was nothing warm or inviting about the large marble-floor foyer with the huge double spiral staircase. The ridiculous statues of nude men and women made me feel like I belonged in some overpriced gallery in Paris. The bedrooms were too large and cold. The furniture was all modern rather than rustic and authentic lodge as I always felt it should be. It was nothing more than a sterile house adorned with expensive furnishings that screamed money.

It was a showoff house.

But then again, I had never lived in anything but.

This house didn’t belong in the mountains. It belonged in Miami or something of that nature. Yes, the outside trees and mountain peak views were pretty, but it wasn’t like I was ever allowed to leave the house to enjoy the surroundings. This was just another mansion of my father’s, and another expensive prison of mine.

But Daddy made me come. Wherever he went, so did I. I was just a modern-day Rapunzel, but my tower was made of cash and jewels. There was only one way to escape my father and that was by marriage. But my father hadn’t found the right man for me.

Yes, my father hadn’t found the right man for me.

And when I say right man, what I really mean is that my father hadn’t found the right business connection that would grow his power more by marrying off his daughter. I was simply a tool to make his reach and strength in the mafia and underground world grow. He was being picky, which meant that I was twenty-two and still being taken care of by my Daddy. His iron rule, his old-fashioned beliefs on how a woman should behave, and his sadistic nature meant that I did what he said with no questions asked. Plus, because of who he was, I lived in a little protective bubble that he had created around me for my so called, own good. Did he love me?

He loved what I could give him.

I was a valuable asset.

Even as all the guests started to crowd the house, it still felt cold. Part of that was due to what I was wearing. The slinky leather dress that barely covered my ass and breasts contrasted with the soft snow that fell outside. I should be in a sweater, warm boots, and fluffy socks sitting by a roaring fire. But then I would stand out like a sore thumb. For every female was dressed in the same sexy attire as me if not even more scandalous. Some women wore nothing but a collar and a kitty tail shoved up their asses.

If Daddy knew I was attending his precious pet party he was fond of throwing quarterly in our Aspen house, he would damn near die of a stroke. Luckily for me, the other guests holding his attention, my kitty black mask, and the fact that I just lurked in the shadows, meant Daddy never knew I watched from a distance for the last several that he hosted. I also wore a pink wig to hide my long brown hair tonight. It was worth the risk because I found the parties fascinating and frankly the only bit of entertainment I ever experienced in Aspen.

Kitties.

Grown, beautiful women crawling on all fours and acting as animals as they were led around by a collar. Powerful men in suits. Sounds of strict orders, mewls, purrs, and the occasional moan or cry as a naughty kitty was disciplined for not behaving.

I watched from the distance reminiscent of when I used to sneak to the top of the stairs as a child and peer down below. Only this time, I watched with a glass of champagne in my hand and an occasional glance from a man on the hunt for his very own kitty. I never stayed long. I kept to myself and put of an aura that I was not interested. Occasionally a man would approach, and I would just brush him off. If he only knew that I was saving his life. If my father saw me acting as someone’s kitty… well that someone would be killed without a second for explanation.

No one touched his daughter. His mafia princess.

No one.

Luckily, not everyone at the party was a kitty or a pet owner which aided me in just blending in. Some guests just attended and enjoyed the ambiance rather than partaking in the kinky play. They drank expensive wine and champagne, ate caviar, and worked the room as if it were completely normal for a woman in a kitty tail to be curled up at the feet of the person you discussed business with.

I never recognized the guests, which also worked in my favor. My father liked to invite different people each party to keep it interesting. He also invited more than our house really should hold, so it was easy to find a corner somewhere and only move when my father was getting too close to where I stood.

To the right of me, a woman…kitty… was on her knees with a cock balls deep in her mouth. Her eyes opened and connected with me which oddly sent a current of sensation between my legs. Closing my thighs tight to force the throbbing to ease, I quickly looked away although the dirty side of me wanted to watch as the kitty had her face fucked beside me.

It was the time of the night that this always happened to me.

I reached the point where I had entirely too much to drink. The sexual chemistry, the forbidden fantasies, and the absolute need to defy my father made me want to get down on my hands and knees and become a pet to the first man who would look at me.

It was time for me to leave.

I knew this.

It was always the same.

Plus, if I stayed too long, my father could see me, or someone he works with closely would spot me in the crowd. I didn’t want to press my luck, and as much as I wanted to act out some of these kinks around me myself, I knew that was never going to be an option.

“Not interested in being a kitty?” a deep voice asked from behind me as I took a large drink of my champagne so I could leave without wasting.

I struggled not to roll my eyes, as I was used to at least a few men to attempt to pick me up during the night. Some were tempting, and others weren’t. “Just a voyeur.” That response usually worked for me, and the man typically got the idea that I wasn’t interested in having any real fun with him.

The man handed me a new flute of champagne, and I almost rejected it but saw I only had a couple of sips left in the one I held, and another drink wouldn’t exactly hurt…

“Thank you,” I said, as I placed my old glass on a table and took the one offered. I tried to never make eye contact with anyone, but for some reason, I looked up into his eyes.

They were dark. Powerful.

But I didn’t find that fact shocking. Everyone at my father’s parties were dark and powerful to some degree. I quickly looked away and stared straight ahead hoping my inattentive behavior would be enough for this man to grow bored and move onto the next party guest.

“I’m surprised your father allows you to attend his world famous pet parties,” the man said casually.

My heart stopped. The champagne flute rested on my lips mid drink as my entire body froze. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

The man chuckled as he drank from his own glass. “I take it from your response, that Daddy Dearest is unaware of your presence here.”

My eyes darted to where my father stood by the table of expensive meat and cheeses as he laughed loudly at whatever story the people circling him were telling him—a kitty was at each foot rubbing seductively against him. He was distracted. But for how long?

I stole a glance at the man who recognized me but couldn’t say the same about him. I had never seen him before, or at least not that I could place. We traveled a lot and never stayed in one state long, but I was usually good at remembering faces at the very least. This mystery man even recognized me with the mask and the wig, which meant that I hadn’t done nearly as good of a job concealing my identity as I had thought. If this stranger recognized me, then it was just a matter of time until my father did as well.

But who was this man?

He had black hair slicked back, a strong jaw line, thick eye lashes that hooded the dark eyes that oozed sophistication and wisdom. Older, but not as old as my father or even as old as most of his colleagues. I could tell from his suit and the Rolex that he wore, that he possessed money, but anyone attending one of my father’s parties was wealthy to some degree. He was clearly in good shape, extremely easy on the eyes, and in any other ordinary situation, I would appreciate being in the same presence with him. But not now. I needed to flee and fast. But I also was terrified he would then walk over to my father and reveal my secret. It would surely earn him some points with the feared and respected Vittorio Costa.

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “I won’t say anything.”

Keeping secrets from Vittorio Costa would get you killed.

Not wise.

This man was not wise at all.

I didn’t want to thank him because that would be admitting that he was right in his assumption that I was in fact Aria Costa.

“Excuse me,” I said as I turned to walk toward the balcony to get some fresh air. I wanted to run to my bedroom and slam the door, but I also didn’t want this man to know without a doubt that I was Aria. My ears were ringing, and beads of sweat were forming on my upper lip underneath the kitty mask. I needed to regain my composure and get as far away from this man—that I refused to look at—as I could get.

He took hold of my arm. Firm but not aggressive.

“I would stay here, if I were you,” the man said. “If you walk away alone, all eyes will be on you. You are by far the most beautiful woman in this room which means even Daddy Dearest will take pause to look at you.” He tightened his grip. “You’re safer here with me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Or do.

I swallowed hard hoping that I could somehow hide how nervous I was. My heart pounded even harder against my chest. Was I more afraid of being caught? Or more afraid of this man?

Tall. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark everything. A suit that screamed success and class. Hands that were big enough to grasp my entire arm.

Was he my savior or my enemy? Did he know my father? Would he tell him and deliver me to him to earn points with my father’s in his line of yes men?

He spun me around so my back was facing the main room and I was directly in front of him. He placed his hand on my throat and spoke softly. “What would a kitty do right now?”

I remained silent, but I didn’t break away from his hold. I didn’t want to draw any attention my way.

His eyes glanced over my shoulder, and I was tempted to turn and see if indeed he was staring at my father or if this was all a sick way to dominate over me. I was pretty sure this was a man who was used to getting whatever he wanted… most likely by simply taking it.

“I wouldn’t turn around if I were you. Your father is looking this way.”

I tensed as tears welled in my eyes. Emotion prickled the back of my throat, and I wanted to run as fast as I could but also knew that was not an option. His hand remained around my throat and though I should be terrified or at the very least appalled, I remained completely still and trusted this stranger at his word.

“Don’t worry. All he can see is your back. Stay still. Play the part.”

My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. I refused to show just how scared I was. My father would kill him for touching me. I wouldn’t put it past my father to kill me for the shame this would place on him—especially be found out like this in front of his colleagues. Temptation to turn my head and see for myself was quickly squashed as his hand tightened, restricting my airflow just enough to warn me to stop.

Fingerprints on my neck.

But my father… what would he do to me? I had no idea but feared it would be far worse than death.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” the man said as he pulled me closer to him with his hand still tight around my neck.

Possessive.

He was showing the room that I was his.

His.

“I’m not afraid,” I finally spoke, my lips entirely too close to this man’s face. It was hard to breathe, but not just because this man held my neck.

Fear and lust blended. This man… this fucking man. Who was he? Why did I just stand there and allow him to hold me in such a dominating way?

“You should be. You should be very afraid.” His eyes glanced over my shoulder. “Your father’s coming this way.”

He’s working the room as he always does. I should have already left by now.

My knees weakened, and if it weren’t for the fact that this man still held me by the neck, the overwhelming apprehension of what was to come when my father discovered me at his pet party would have made me crumple to the floor.

The man released my neck just as quickly as he placed his palm there and exchanged my flesh for my hair. He took a handful of my pink wig and pulled me even closer, claiming my mouth with his. He pulled away enough to command, “Kiss me as if your life depends on it.”

Practically feeling my father’s steps behind me, I knew the only way to prevent him from walking up and greeting us was to engage in something that my father wouldn’t want to interrupt.

God forbid him acting as a cock block to any guest in his house.

So, I kissed the stranger.

I kissed him with as much passion as my frightened body could muster.

His tongue darted inside my mouth and caressed my own. Smooth, warm, intoxicating.

My first real kiss. My first real man. This was not a schoolboy kiss by the outside bathrooms. This was not a kiss from a boy who walked me to the front door but was too awkward to do anything else.

No, this was a kiss that commanded every sensation in my body.

Was my father watching?

Was the show of affection enough for him to walk away and to go greet other guests?

Or would this be my final kiss?

Regardless, I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want it to end. And I also knew that I needed to allow this stranger to be in control of when it did. He was saving me. Protecting me.

The stranger pulled away enough to nip my lip as his eyes looked over my shoulder again. He released my hair but moved his hand to my lower back, pulling me even closer to him if that was even possible.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he directed.

I did as he instructed. My body trembled, and my breathing came out in small puffs of air. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I could feel the pulse in my neck as a mixture of desire and terror blended to an inexplicable tonic of need and hunger for more.

No.

No.

I needed to run away.

But I couldn’t. Not just because of my father, but because of this stranger.

I was trapped. Captured by his hold, his commands, and his entire presence. I couldn’t leave him.

I didn’t want to leave him.

I could hear the seductive moans of other kitties nearby. I wanted the moans to be my own. I wanted to purr for this man. I wanted to dig my claws into his back and unleash. I wanted to break free from this suffocating bubble I lived in.

Champagne, this stranger, the need to act out against my father’s hold, and sexual lust were a deadly combination…

Chapter Three

Matthew

“I should go… I have to…” Aria managed to take a couple of steps backwards.

“Stop,” I said as I closed the tiny distance between us. My eyes locked with Aria, and any resistance she could have offered was swallowed up by a thick and overpowering sexual desire that couldn’t be denied.

She opened her mouth to argue. I knew she wanted to, but at the same time, I could feel in my own highly charged libido that she didn’t want to break the spell that we most certainly had between us. The energy in the room sizzled with lust. Even the Pope himself would have struggled to remain chaste in this sinner’s den.

When I arrived at the party, it didn’t take me long to spot Aria among the guests. I already knew from my past experience at some of Vittorio’s parties that his precious daughter would often sneak inside for a few minutes’ debauchery viewing and then quickly disappear into the shadows. I knew I had to act fast if my plan for the night was going to work.

I took Aria’s hand and led her away from the main room to find the princess’s bedroom. I grabbed one of the goodie bags that was lined up on the side table as we passed it. Yes, I had no doubt I would find the tools of the trade for the night inside.

“Let’s go have a little fun away from the chance of Daddy Dearest seeing us. Show me your room.”

“If he finds us…” was her only retort.

I expected more resistance from her, but I was also pleasantly pleased that my plan was coming together so easily.

Sneaking away into her bedroom upstairs, far from the party, wasn’t as difficult as I worried it would be. All the security remained on guard outside, and anyone who had passed the threshold of the mansion was considered vetted so there was no real need for Vittorio’s goons to remain present for the festivities.

As we entered Aria’s room, I smelled her arousal as I pushed her onto the bed without asking permission or trying to seduce in any way. I hated awkward conversation and wooing.

I didn’t woo.

I ripped off her dress and panties with little care for her comfort or even an ounce of gentle caress.

Tonight was about me.

Tonight would be about taking what wasn’t mine.

Fuck you, Vittorio Costa. Your daughter will be mine.

I was the hunter and she was the prey.

A shame really. That she would be the innocent victim in this sick and twisted game that I would win.

Collateral damage.

But again… tonight was about me so I pushed any guilt or shameful thoughts to the dark recesses of my soul.

I could almost taste the sexual need of the dark-haired beauty splayed naked across the bed. Her silken curls concealed parts of her breasts, allowing her hard nipples to peek between her cascading hair. Her tan body glistened in the moonlight reflecting the night’s snow outside the window as she writhed in want.

“What’s your name?” she questioned.

“Tonight’s not about that,” I answered softly.

“I want your name.”

“Yes, we all want things we can’t have, princess.”

I had been secretly watching this little girl—Aria—for a few days in preparation. It sickened me knowing Vittorio’s blood ran through her veins, and she would have to pay the price for his actions. Her sweet smile. Her angelic appearance. The way she drank entirely too much throughout the evening to ease what was clearly discomfort by being in a room with such rampant sexual dynamics. She was curious, even longing for the kink. But she didn’t belong. She was pure and innocent. That much was obvious.

But all things could be corrected.

“Place your arms above your head,” I commanded.

Aria hesitated for a moment, but she had no power of refusal left inside of her. The seductive drug from the fear of being caught, and the dominance I knew I had over her overpowered consent. Her dilated eyes twinkled with champagne-induced arousal as she gradually brought her hands over her head. Her lips parted in desire, beckoning me for the simplest of touches. She arched her back just enough to thrust out her hardened nipples, pleading for me to take them under her control.

The woman blazed in hunger.

She needed something. Anything.

This was exactly how I wanted her. It’s how I liked all the women I fucked. I loved to have their forced consent but only in the most twisted and fucked up of ways.

I reached for the goodie bag and looked inside with a wicked smile.

Perfect.

Sinfully perfect.

Vittorio had provided me with everything I would need to soil his perfect dove.

I reached for each of Aria’s wrists, wrapped them with a black ribbon that was inside the bag, and tied them to the headboard of the bed. I had left enough slack so that Aria’s body would still be flexible enough to achieve whatever I wished to do to my victim.

“Kiss me,” Aria pleaded between ragged breaths.

I could see the moisture along the soft folds of her recently waxed pussy as she gyrated her hips in desperate need to be satisfied. I knew exactly how Aria felt. The fire that burned to fuck was all-powerful. Craving, needing, longing, and begging for more. I could feel the hard, throbbing hunger between my own legs. Just the short taste of her lips on mine had left me ravenous for more. Each movement I made had her groaning for me to go even further. Aria’s exposed pussy delicately dripped in anticipation for what I had in store.

“First rule is never command. Never speak until spoken to. You are not the one in charge. You are not the spoiled rich girl with me. You don’t get what you want.” I straddled Aria and pressed my cock that tented my pants against her pussy.

Dick against pussy, a sizzle of electricity shot through my core. Though I would much prefer my pants to be out of the way, the sensation helped soothe the need for touch.

I lowered my mouth to Aria’s hardened nipple and began to suck. I lapped and nibbled while softly massaging the girl’s mound with the palm of my hand. I moved my mouth to the other nipple and continued to drive Aria to the edge of pleasure.

“More!” the girl begged as she flung her head in wild abandon.

I reached down to Aria’s pussy and briskly slapped the swollen folds. “It’s clear you don’t understand that you’re not the one in control. I won’t tolerate being told what to do, and I’m even less patient to those who don’t follow my commands.” I slapped Aria’s pussy once again, eliciting a moan from the girl. I took hold of her clit and pinched, causing her to cry out in erotic pain. “You obviously need to be trained, princess.”

“Please,” the pain slut begged as she thrust her hips to meet me with more force.

My cock hardened even more at the knowledge that Aria actually liked my forceful touch and craved even more.

More I would gladly give.

Ah, what would Daddy Dearest say if he knew what a little pain vixen his mafia princess was?

I reached for the satin goodie bag on the mattress beside us. I pulled out a pair of silver nipple clamps that were adorned with small emeralds. Clearly, I wasn’t alone in liking women to have jewelry attached on the most intimate of places. Still straddling Aria, I grabbed one of her hardened nipples and very gently clasped it between the biting teeth of the clamp. The innocent, naïve girl let out a gasp as her back arched. I watched the slight grimace of pain on Aria’s face return back to the sedated look of pleasure in mere seconds.

I bent down and softly placed my lips to the beauty’s mouth, giving a kiss as a reward for her ability to accept the jewelry.

“Very good,” I whispered after the kiss.

I slowly lowered my lips to the other nipple and lightly licked along the surface. Grabbing the second nipple clamp, I tenderly applied it to join the other.

I sat up and took in the magnificent sight of the sexual woman writhing beneath me. The silver, the jewels, her breasts, and the beginning of her ultimate submission were breathtaking. I loved that I had the power to dominate, the power to control, and the power to please. Owning Spiked Roses and partaking in my fair share of tastings in the tasting room had taught me plenty. When it came to women, I had become the master on how to demand ecstasy.

I closed my eyes and slowly took in the aroma of the girl’s sex as I lowered my mouth to Aria’s wanting pussy. Pressing my tongue lightly to the velvet skin, I licked my way up and down the folds of the dripping wet mound. I danced my tongue in a circle around Aria’s clit, causing the girl’s moans to become more of a scream.

I brought a finger to her lips to motion for her to be quiet. Daddy Dearest didn’t need to hear her cries of passion and come running inside.

Shh… mafia princess. Shh…

I removed my hand from her mouth and pressed my finger past the entrance of her pussy, feeling the heat of her passion.

“That feels so good... so good,” Aria moaned—quieter this time.

I could be rough.

I could be sensual.

The switch gave me power; the power to control whoever was at my mercy.

Hooking my finger into the depths of the girl’s pussy, my free hand reached for the satin bag once again. I pulled out a clear dildo lined with crystals. Those crystals could be wickedly painful if used for a true fucking. Luckily, for Aria’s cunt, I had other plans.

I took the clear penis and rubbed it along Aria’s wet pussy, collecting her moisture. Ever so gently, I replaced my finger with the large dildo. Just the tip. Something inside of me knew she couldn’t take the entire dildo—she seemed too innocent for that—and my intent wasn’t to really hurt her. But the tip would spread that tight little hole of hers.

“This will spread you wide but not give you the friction and satisfaction of full penetration,” I said with a hint of maniacal undertones in my voice.

I enjoyed the torture.

I fed off the mewls of desperation.

Aria gasped at the intrusion and began to gyrate her hips in sexual anguish. “Fuck me. Make me come. I need to come!”

Without pause, I flipped the girl onto her stomach. “I warned you about issuing the commands.” I swatted the girl’s creamy white behind. “You are to submit, you are to accept, you are to surrender.” I spanked the girl’s ass again, not restraining my strength in the slightest. I wanted it to hurt… to sting. “You are to do only as I request... nothing more.”

I grabbed the remaining item from the satin bag. Pulling out a steel butt plug, I rubbed the ruby that decorated the base with the tip of my finger. Smaller diamonds circled the ruby, making it sparkle in the soft light of the room.

Daddy Dearest spared no expense for his parties. Only the best toys for his guests… for his daughter.

Using his provided toys…

I was so fucking wrong and fed on every second of it.

I loved the intricate workmanship of this toy above all. Using Aria’s wetness slipping around the dildo in her pussy, I lubricated the girl’s tight back hole with my finger.

I could have used lube, but the sadist in me wanted the girl to feel some pain as it spread her anus wide. I was a merciful asshole, however. I wouldn’t tear Aria, though the thought of ripping her father’s asshole apart in the days to come did cross my mind for a brief moment.

When I touched her anus, she tensed.

“No,” she said. “Not there.”

I slapped her ass hard again. “Consequences for not listening.”

She moaned as the punishment commenced.

In and out, slowly, I stretched the girl’s tight little forbidden hole so she would be able to accept the last of the jewelry.

My job getting this princess ready was nearly complete.

“I want you to relax,” I ordered as I placed a soft kiss to the reddened ass of Aria. Easing the implement in slowly was the only way to not hurt her.

Such a caring and giving asshole I was.

“It’s going to hurt,” she panted, though she didn’t plead for me to stop like I expected. She didn’t wiggle her body, pull against the restraints, or try to prevent the invasion.

“Yes, it’s going to fucking hurt. And you are going to love every minute of it.”

Once I could feel the girl’s puckered hole loosen, I pressed the steel plug past the tight ring of her ass. Aria moaned and bucked against the mattress. I rolled her over onto her back and took a moment to admire the jeweled beauty before me.

I bent down and pressed my lips to Aria’s mouth one last time. “Very good. You did very well.”

I considered pulling down my pants and straddling the woman’s face so she could suck and lick on me. So, she could help extinguish the heat deep within my pounding cock and tight balls screaming for release.

But time was running out, and this was just the first step in my master plan. Tonight wasn’t about pleasure. But fuck that. I would make time. No way was I walking away from this naked beauty. Tonight was about me.

But tonight was also about revenge.

Tonight was about proving a fucking point.

Don’t mess with Matthew Price.

I would fuck you up by taking what is most precious to you.

Say goodbye to your daughter, Vittorio Costa.

She was mine now.

Her body would be mine.

Mine.

Chapter Four

Aria

Devils in suits.

Monsters with power.

Beasts with no mercy.

But my frantic internal efforts to ward him off had done nothing. I was weak. Craving more. I wanted to slap him. Scream for help. Demand for him to remove all these kinky items now adorning my body. But I couldn’t.

And worse, much, much worse, was the fact that my body melted beneath him, quickly eroding my resolve to fight him to the death to preserve the innocence he didn’t deserve to take, and I was—intellectually, anyway—unwilling to yield to him.

Devil in suits.

Monsters with power.

Beasts with no mercy.

If I chanted it enough, maybe my body and soul would believe the words. Maybe I could somehow talk some sense into my throbbing sex.

I would not give him my purity. He didn’t deserve the gift.

“We need to stop.” I barely squeaked the words, but I was proud of myself for somehow fighting the urge of fucking this stranger. Although I was fighting a losing battle and I knew it, not that I planned to give up the fight.

Throughout all of my valiant efforts, he had—with an annoying calm and languorous determination—made his way from peak to peak, using those big hands to squeeze my breasts from the bottom so as to present them to his mouth at their fullest as he continued to massage them rhythmically while his mouth devastated my defenses, making me want to hug him to me rather than smash my fists into his face the way I ought to.

He seemed to know when I had had to surrender, when I could no longer actively fight against him.

He knew I was weak.

I was vulnerable to his power.

Metal bit my nipples and spread my ass. My virginal pussy was dangerously close to being conquered by the dildo resting and spreading my entrance, and all I could focus on was what would this man do to me next.

I couldn’t ignore the way he felt against me. His tux shirt rubbed against nipples that had been brought to achingly anticipatory peaks by the clamps, not used to such raw treatment but unable to deny the sparks both the clamps and his clothing created between my legs.

He settled himself between my legs as if he’d been there many times before. The dildo eased out of me, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be without an invasion for long. His dark eyes staring at me warned that more was to come.

Possession. This man gripped me in all ways. How was I his when I didn’t even know his name?

I could feel the prominent bulge of his pants against my very exposed self, and I couldn’t keep myself from staring into his eyes as he very deliberately dragged himself back and forth against me.

As I stared helplessly up at him, I felt caught like a butterfly on a pin, unable to look away as he chafed himself against me, almost smiling at my sighs of pleasure.

“I know you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you, princess,” he said softly. “But it’s going to hurt so fucking good.”

“Stop,” I think I whispered, but maybe didn’t. I couldn’t be sure.

As much as I wanted to be reassured by his gentle—yet fucked up—words, my internal moral compass knew I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t just get fucked by a complete stranger. But my body betrayed me. No matter how much I struggled with the idea of what was to come, my body demanded more, demanded that he do just that… pleasure me, fuck me, take me.

Pleasure me.

Fuck me.

Take me.

Words I never thought I would think, feel, and so desperately want.

There was a man on top of me, claiming what doesn’t belong to him as his.

Sick. Twisted. Perverse.

I should be throwing up. Losing sanity. Sinking into the depths of Hell.

But instead…

Pleasure me.

Fuck me.

Take me.

“You can say no all you want, but your body screams yes. I smell you, princess. I can smell how badly you want to be fucked,” he said, as he untied my hands that were tied with the ribbon. But my freedom was short-lived as he fastened my wrists to the mattress as if they were bolted there by the mere presence of his fingers around them, holding them still. “But you can continue to fight me if you want. If it makes you feel less dirty. But we both know.”

Damn him. Damn him to Hell for being right.

Then, agonizingly slow, he dragged himself down my length, tongue flicking and licking and wetting me here and there, wherever the whim took him to taste me, right down past my pubic bone and boldly venturing between lips that were undoubtedly fully swollen and quite damp.

But he stopped short of actually pressing his tongue to my clit, which was something I realized I was holding my breath expecting—and not in terror either, as I should have been, but in desperate, raging anticipation. I wanted to feel that exquisite heaven of release. He had teased me enough.

I was ready.

“Stop,” I tried to say. But I didn’t.

Instead, he pulled back a little, making me have to stifle a groan of protest that should never have formed in my throat, and skipped right over it on his way to the part of my body that, at this point, was the wettest.

After avidly lapping up as many of my juices that he could with his tongue, he moved back up a bit and addressed me, although at first, I refused to look at him.

“My, my, my, you are just a fountain down here, aren’t you? I see my guess was right about you liking to protest and fight. Fight me. Fight me all you want. You want it rough.”

Although I knew I was lying, I shook my head in vehement denial.

But he merely nodded. “I understand, I do, princess, and it’s fine with me. I love it that you so obviously enjoy what I’m doing to you. There’s a lot more where that came from.” He cleared his throat and the boyish enthusiasm he had just exhibited melted away as if it had never been, and the timbre of his voice changed such that I had to suppress a shiver. “I’m going to let your wrists go right now, and I expect that you’re not going to raise them off the bed. Knowing what I do about you now, if you do move them so much as an inch, I’m going to put you over the edge of the bed and use my belt on your bare ass. And I won’t go nearly so easy on you as I did when I was spanking you with my hand. I know you like it, and it’s going to take just that more effort on my part to teach you a real lesson. If you move your hands, princess, it won’t be a spanking. It will be a whipping.”

He let go of my wrists then and didn’t even look to see whether I obeyed him or not, as far as I could tell. He assumed I would, and to my deep shame, he was right. He was obviously going to enjoy himself regardless of what I did. He was only too eager to take his belt to my bare ass, if that was what I made him do.

Although I kept my hands where he wanted them, I wailed behind tightly closed lips, knowing I should be brave enough to tackle him, to risk bodily injury—or at least a very severe strapping—in order to preserve my sovereignty over my own body, but I just couldn’t convince myself to do it. Especially not with the intimate glimpse he’d given me into just how unbearable it would probably be.

And he was already back in place, this time using the fingers of one hand to splay me open while the other reached up to pluck my nipples, removing the clamps as I moaned with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Pinching them much harder than the clamps had before, making each one of them hurt before he moved on to the other, treating them rather cruelly. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. With my rear end already singeing the sheets beneath me, I had no interest at all—well, very little anyway—in finding out what it would feel like if he actually did to me what he said he would. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would, either.

Surprisingly, worry about being punished faded quickly from my mind, to be replaced by the unbearable aching sensations he was creating with his mouth as it settled slowly, very slowly, over the clit he had already completely exposed, laying his unmoving tongue flat over a piece of me that caused a thirst I knew I should resist.

Stop.

Stop.

“Stop,” I finally managed to say even though I wasn’t sure I meant what I said. “Stop!” I said it again, much much louder this time.

Stop what?

Stop what he was doing?

Or stop torturing me with the wait?

* * *

Matthew

This little mafia princess needed to know who was in charge fast. She needed to fear me. Hate me. Despise me. I didn’t give a fuck really, other than when I gave an order, she would damn well follow it.

No Daddy’s little rich girls allowed.

“I told you to be quiet so Daddy Dearest doesn’t hear us, and I mean what I say.”

My hard, implacable tone had her stiffening even further, but I figured from the sounds drifting up from downstairs that we had a while before we would need to leave, and I intended to get my revenge on her father from doing what I pleased to her. Having sex with Vittorio Costa’s daughter wasn’t of much interest to me. Or at least it hadn’t been when this plan was first set into motion.

Kidnap, yes.

Possible torture, doubtful though I can’t deny that it didn’t pass my mind when the fury and rage overpowered me as I came up with this plan of mine.

Ransom, fuck yes and for a lot. For more money than Vittorio Costa could come up with. He would have to beg, borrow and steal to keep his precious daughter alive. And my paintings and every single diamond hidden within. For his sake, and his daughter’s, he better not have moved them already.

Revenge would be sweet.

He did this. This was his fault.

But daughter dearest was mine now, and for some crazy reason unknown to me, I wanted a hell of a lot more. This wasn’t just vengeance taking hold. Nor was this just a need to fuck.

I had what I needed to get my shipment back now, and I was in a mood to celebrate. And this little rich girl whimpering in my arms was a definite way to celebrate. All mafia princesses were the same. Entitled, spoiled, bitchy. But something about Costa’s daughter seemed different than the rest. Special. I had watched her for days. Studied her at the party. Something was different.

I had watched her lips all night at the party as she sipped champagne and had wanted them instantly on mine and on many other places that had long since hardened at the thought.

I was a sick bastard.

But again… Vittorio created me.

Never try to one up Matthew Price. Never.

Fucking her probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever do in my life, but the moment I’d seen her, I’d known that I was going to risk my life, and my soul to do just that. She was just too damned tempting, with all that rich, dark hair spread out over her pillow. It wasn’t that artificial, platinum color a lot of those mafia bitches favored but looked completely natural and enticing, and I was a fool for a woman’s hair. Not to mention how innocent she looked, her face surprisingly clean and devoid of the remnants of the usual garish makeup.

Right now, my enemy was about to give up his most precious belonging. What was his, was now mine.

Mine.

“I’m a bad man. A bad bad man,” I whispered by way of apology against her bared breasts, just before taking a pert pink nipple into my mouth. “But I’m about to make you a bad, bad girl.”

Chapter Five

Aria

“My father will kill you.”

He laughed, heartily at first, then less so as he saw the anger on my face. “Listen, princess—”

“Stop calling me princess. I’m not your fucking pet. You can’t demean me with little pet names.”

“Not my pet?” He smirked which made me want to reach out and punch him. “I saw how you watched the other kittens at the party. I also heard you purr for me as a naughty kitty would. Your tits, your clit, your pussy, your ass—”

“You’re an asshole!” I practically yelled at how crass he was being, as if he was deliberately trying to annoy me, but thought better of actually giving my anger free reign, for fear that I raise my voice higher than he allowed.

I wasn’t used to looking to someone other than my father—much less a man like him in particular—for permission to do anything, but the way my butt continued to throb against the sheets of the bed, had me thinking twice. He looked so implacable, so damned sure of himself that I was having a hard time not becoming about as close to hysterical as I’d ever been in my life. “I want you to get off of me and leave my room now. If I scream, you are a dead man.”

He grinned, saying sarcastically, “Trust me, princess. I’ll get you to scream. But not in the way you think.”

“You must have a death sentence.”

He smiled and kissed my forehead. “I’ve had one long before I met you.”

“I’m not going to ask again. You can’t just come in here and take what you want and—”

“I just did. Or did you willingly give all of this to me?” His smirk returned that both gave him charm as well as brought my blood to an inferno of a boil.

“I would never had given you anything. You didn’t give me a choice, you…” I paused before continuing. I didn’t want to accuse him of just taking it. As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted him to. Hell… I wanted more. Or at least my body had. “This was a mistake. A mistake I hope to forget forever. So if you know what is good for you, you will leave my room, this party, this house, this fucking country before my father finds out what you did to his daughter and has you tortured until you are begging for death.”

“You wouldn’t tell your daddy,” he replied. “How would he ever look at you the same?” His eyes darkened. “And I’m not going anywhere. Well… not without you.”

“I don’t know who you are or what you want,” I barely squeaked. “But please. Go.”

The man nodded and his expression hardened. “You’re coming with me. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t put up a fight.”

“You are insane.” Before the man could do anything to stop me, I tugged his hold free and hopped out of bed. The butt plug was still inside of me, and without thinking, I reached behind me and tugged it out, trying to ignore the biting stretch as I did so. Tossing it into the trashcan next to my desk, I finally began to sober from not only the champagne but from the sexual spell I was under. What the fuck had I just allowed?

Had I lost my damn mind?

I almost gave this complete stranger my virginity? Not only gave but begged for him to take.

The whiplash of emotions made me dizzy, but I snatched a robe off my closet door to cover myself from his hungry eyes.

Finally. Some sanity.

Just as I turned to run from my room, I felt his all too familiar fingers closing around my arm and was jerked back into his embrace unceremoniously.

His face had darkened considerably as he stared down at me, making me feel as if I had just crossed the Devil himself, and this was the first time I had noticed the gun on his hip. I could only see the butt of it from where it sat quite comfortably on his hip, but it was very well worn, as if the gun had seen a lot of action, and so was the holster.

Oh god, he was one of them. A bad guy. But of course he was. Why would I think anything else? He was a guest at my father’s party. Who did I expect this man to be?

After staring at the holster for a long while, I let my eyes wander over the rest of him. My bold inspection of him had him resting his hand on the butt of his gun in a manner that made me think he stood like that a lot.

Authority.

“It’s time to go. I advise you to choose the easier of the paths and come quietly,” he growled. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words sounded all the more threatening for the lack of volume. “I don’t want to shoot you, the men who will come busting through that door if you scream, or your father if I don’t have to. But I will. And the six other men who attended this party with me won’t hesitate to fight as well. So, let’s not get anyone killed. Choose easy over death. It’s very simple.”

“What are you talking about?” I swallowed hard. “I’m not going anywhere with you. It’s you who is leaving, or I’ll have no choice but to scream for my father. He’ll kill you. Not the other way around. You know this. No matter who you are or who your other men are, you’ll be a dead man.”

“As sexy as you were laying naked on that bed, my intention was not to come to this party to fuck you.”

I was a damn fool. A dirty, used fool.

“Intention?”

“Your father took something of mine. So, it’s now my turn,” he said with a wicked grin.

“You want me? Kidnap?” I barely could ask, already knowing the answer.

He nodded. “We’re going to take a little trip. And if you’re a good girl, no harm will come to you. Maybe some more of what we just did, but no actual harm.” His jaw tightened. “But if you are a bad girl… there will be extreme consequences.”

Suddenly, I was more aware than ever of the differences in our sizes. He towered over me in the room, and even ignoring the firearm at his side, there was no question as to who was going to end up the victor if it came to a fight.

“Please,” I asked again, unashamedly letting the tears that had been threatening spill down my cheeks. “I’m not my father. Just leave me alone. Leave before this escalates.”

I didn’t have any more energy to talk, to explain that my ruthless father would never stop looking for me, to even reason with the wild thoughts of actually wanting to go with this man going on in my mind. But if I was going to be kidnapped, I would take the only thing that mattered to me. It was a small jewelry box that almost fit into my palm. I traveled everywhere I went with it, and I would not leave it behind. Even now. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know this man. I had no idea what would happen next.

Any doubt of what would happen next was short lived, because the door to the room opened. And standing in the doorway were two of my father’s men. The look on their faces, the tension in the stranger’s body, all were a clear indication that this meeting was not going to end well.

“Who the fuck are you?” one of the men shouted while he fumbled for his gun.

Within a split second, I found myself dragged out the second story window and onto the roof while my father’s men fired at us out of the same window by which we had left. I understood them shooting at my kidnapper, but what if they shot me? Hadn’t my father told them to protect me at all costs? Not kill me?

I was so terrified that I couldn’t even begin to think. I just followed the man who had a death grip on my wrist. He seemed to know where he was going—I hoped. All I wanted was to get out of the line of fire.

We skirted around to the side of the house, and then I saw him jump off the edge. If a bullet hadn’t whizzed by my head at that point, I might have cried out, but I was struck dumb by just how close I had come to dying. Even before I got to the edge of the roof, though, I could hear him trying to order me around.

“Jump down! I’ll catch you!”

“What?” I peered very cautiously over and saw that he was standing next to a dirt bike. I held onto my jewelry box, clutching it to my chest to somehow give me strength.

“Jump!”

“Are you crazy? I’m not jumping off the roof of my house! To you!”

I shouldn’t run. I was innocent in all of this. I was the one who was taken against my will, I supposed, although I wasn’t at all sure if what happened really fit the description very well. I didn’t want to follow him—did I?

But then again, the men shooting didn’t seem to care just how innocent I was in all of this.

Fucking idiots. They were going to kill me in their arrogant and prideful determination to capture the invader. Earn points with Vittorio Costa.

Sorry about your daughter getting shot.

“Jump, Aria, or so help me I’ll come back and get you and beat your ass for not doing as I told you, even if I have to come back from the grave to do it! You don’t want to get shot, and those men don’t give a fuck who you are. They won’t stop until we are both dead. You will just be collateral damage in what they want… which is me.”

Collateral damage. Death.

Escape. Escape. Yes, I could escape. But who did I want to escape?

“Aria.” One word, one very powerful word, said by a man who clearly expected to be obeyed.

But it was the next, even closer bullet buzzing by me to lodge itself in the side of the garage next door with a spray of wood chips that had me closing my eyes and jumping.

Chapter Six

Aria

I was surprised, hours ago, to have ended up in my room with a man lying on top of me doing unspeakable things to my body. But the thing that had surprised me the most out of the past several hours had to be that I had actually jumped off the roof of my house and been caught—picked out of the air by the man who had kidnapped me, settled in behind him on his Indian motorcycle, and driven off my father’s estate through a hail of gunfire. And this all clearly wasn’t a dream. I couldn’t blame the champagne on this one. I was as alert and awake as ever.

I had kept myself as physically separate from Matthew Price as I possibly could, which wasn’t by much since there wasn’t very far to go in the motorcycle seat. But I leaned as much as I could away from him. It made me feel better psychologically, anyway, as I tried to work my way through what I was barely beginning to come to grips with about what had happened to me.

But even as the truth began to sink in, I found myself settling back against Matthew, even though I was stuck on a bike with a man who was apparently on the wrong side of my father’s law, in the middle of the woods. Matthew was the closest thing to safety I had at the moment, and I had to come to grips with that fact.

Plus, it was cold.

Why in the world were we on a motorcycle in Aspen with snow all around?

“You could have picked a better getaway vehicle,” I yelled above the hum of the motor, speaking for the first time since we’d left my room.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be on the bike for long. This was for a fast getaway if needed.”

“Did you come to the party planning on kidnapping me from the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He stole from me. Tit for tat.” His reply was short and to the point.

We sat in silence, with the only noise being the hum of the motor and the tires grinding along the dirt road that he had found off the main highway. There was snow and ice, and I knew there was no way we were going to get far on the motorcycle, but seeing a truck parked in the distance, illuminated by the lights of the motorcycle, I could see that this stranger had every detail of tonight orchestrated.

He pulled up to the truck and hopped off the bike, helping me off as any gentleman would do.

“Now what?” I asked, looking up at him as I crossed my arms against my chest, still clinging to my jewelry box with my life. I only wore a robe and was barefoot against the snow-covered ground.

The man took off his suit jacket—the first item of clothing that had been removed of his all evening— and draped it over my shoulders. He took the jewelry box from my hands and placed it in the pocket of the jacket for safe keeping and to show me he wouldn’t make me get rid of it. He then swooped me up and carried me to the passenger side of the truck and placed me inside.

“So, you just expect me to sit here and ride off to God knows where with an insane man with a serious death wish and not try to fight or run away?” The absurdity of my situation really kicked in at that point.

“Well the way I see it, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“So what? I’m your captive?”

“Call it what you will.”

My spine stiffened at his words.

“Fuck this,” I said as I considered jumping out of the truck and making a run for it.

“You have a dirty mouth, princess.”

“Call it what you will,” I retorted. “And stop calling me princess.”

The man surprised me with a small chuckle mixed with a huff. I couldn’t quite tell if he found humor or annoyance in my response.

“Where are we going?”

He took his time responding. “Somewhere safe.”

I snorted. “Safe?” Although as long as bullets weren’t flying by my head, I was safer than before. But was I safe with this man? And the bigger question was if I was safe with myself and all the emotions that caused me to feel dizzy in the mountain air. “I haven’t been safe since the minute you came into my life.”

I could see how he stiffened in front of me, as if I had insulted him. And maybe I had. But at this point I didn’t feel like being polite, nice or even bearable. My thighs ached, my ass throbbed, I was freezing, scared, and I really wanted a shower to rid me of the smells of left-over arousal. Riding off into the sunset with my father’s enemy wasn’t as romantic as a romance novel could make it seem. And yet still… I had no desire to escape my captor. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

Matthew

“Safer, then,” I growled. I didn’t like admitting that she was right about my inability to truly keep her safe. At least not until I got her to my safe house.

Ditching the motorcycle, I hopped into the truck to begin phase two of my plan. We began to drive into the mountain range and the air was cool, both with the cloak of night and the elevation. Small flecks of snow hit the windshield and I was happy we were off that bike. It hadn’t been a long ride, but any longer would have put Aria at risk of getting sick or simply freezing her ass off. We had a long drive ahead of us to get to our final destination and by glancing over at Aria who was sitting against the passenger door with her arms across her chest, a scowl on her face, and an energy that screamed to leave her the fuck alone, I felt it was going to be even longer for her.

Just before sunrise, I stopped the truck. Pulling up to a one room cabin I knew hunters would sometimes crash in while hunting in the area. I got out of the truck, walked around to Aria’s side and reached to assist Aria off the seat. She surprised me when she didn’t resist me lifting her out of the truck. I expected a good punch to the face, a claw of the eyes, or a jab in the gut. Something.

“What do you plan on doing with me out here?” she asked as she took in the small shack before us.

With my own fatigue coming on fast, I didn’t have the time or energy to have that discussion now. I needed to hurry and assure Aria’s comfort, as well as securing her, as best as I could. I removed a bag from the back of the truck, throwing the strap over my shoulder with her still in my arms. The juggling act was fairly easy since she held onto my neck to assist. Again… this surprised me.

Although in all reality, where would she run to? She was barefoot and in a white fluffy robe. Not exactly running through the mountains alone attire.

I walked toward the cabin and placed her at the door so she could enter on her own free will. Although she was first in line, Aria stopped at the door and stepped to the side. “You go first and kill anything with more or fewer legs than I have, please. If it crawls, hisses, or bites, I believe it’s time it meets its maker.”

The way she put it made me smile. She wasn’t admitting to any fears, but simply asking me to prevent them, and I was surprised to find myself quite happy to do that for her. I hadn’t always been a monster. I had had model parents who had done their best to instill manners into me. Although I definitely hadn’t been their best of pupils in that area as of late. But some things had set in and watching out for helpless women was one of them.

The men I worked with had teased me about that fact—that I rarely partook in the women who practically threw themselves at me simply because of my money and status. I liked challenge. I liked spit and fire. I liked the give and pull. But I also did respect women. I truly did. I didn’t show it all the time, but I tried my best. It was one of the reasons I insisted that every woman working at Spiked Roses was paid exceptionally well and always treated with the highest respect. We had hired Tennessee Williams to not only supervise the staff, but to watch over and protect them.

There were more birds nested in the cabin than insects of any sort, although I ushered everything I found either out or into the next world. Then I made sure that the lock on the back door—which was directly opposite of the front door—worked and was in place before opening the front door and motioning her in. There was a thin mattress on an old bed frame that looked as if it had seen much better days and a small fireplace. It wasn’t much, but it was better than lying on the ground in a cold room.

“I’m going to go gather some firewood. I’ll be back shortly.”

Would she try to leave?

Doubtful.

But even if she ran, I would catch her.

I think we both knew that fact.

* * *

Aria

Although I didn’t like the idea of being left alone in this place for any length of time, I recognized the necessity of us finding a means of heating the cabin. We were so far up the mountain that it was freezing, and we didn’t have the proper clothing and boots to fight against the elements. We would need a fire to keep us warm and especially at night. How long would we stay here? How long would it take for this stranger to get what he wanted from my father to return me? How long would I have to wear nothing but a robe to keep me warm?

Shivering, I tightened the man’s coat around me. I could smell him in the fabric and for some unknown reason, I inhaled deeply. I should have cast off the coat, but I was too cold.

Yes, that was the reason. The only reason. Temperature.

Liar.

I refused to consider any alternate methods of generating heat such as the one he was very likely to suggest… or maybe even take.

Luckily, he had left me with a small candle, the flame of which I guarded obsessively as I moved about the cabin trying to clean it up a bit. There was a small table that had been knocked onto its side, and I righted it and put it under the one window. There were no chairs at all, so it looked as if we were going to have to sit on the bed together to eat whatever it was he planned on feeding us while we remained here.

Would we play a fucked up version of house together in this cabin?

When I had done about all I could to make the place somewhat livable, I sat gingerly down on the very edge of the bed, hugging myself. I was sitting here in bare feet and a robe. Nothing much for warmth right now, or protection when it came to the colder weather. Alone.

I looked around. Uncertain what to do next.

Where was he? How long would he be gone?

I looked down at the dirty mattress. He was going to expect me to fall into bed with him—again. Although there hadn’t been much falling done before—but I wasn’t going to. I had already made that resolution. I couldn’t believe how far I went with this man. The things I allowed him to do me… Just thinking about our kinky experience had my face heating up and a prickle of sensation form between my legs. It was so unlike me, and yet at the time, felt so natural. I always watched from afar. I never participated. But with this stranger…

He was just going to have to keep those strong, supple, knowing hands to himself. I hoped I was strong enough to resist him—my track record already wasn’t very good. I did have morals. I wanted sex to be about love, regardless if I had completely lost my mind… or whatever the hell was going on. I wanted to love, not just fuck. Even if just thinking about what happened, and the thought of it happening again, had my pussy throbbing and moistening at the image.

Damn him.

As if he knew I’d been thinking about him, the door opened and he came in, carrying a big load of firewood in one hand and a plastic grocery bag he must have gotten from the truck in the other. “Here,” he said, placing the bag onto the table, then dropping the firewood by the hearth. “There’s some salami and cheese in there you can cut for us.” He disappeared outside again before I had a chance to tell him, “I’m not your slave. Captive yes, but not a slave!” So, when he returned, the bag was still on the table untouched.

“Did you not hear me?” he asked authoritatively when he returned.

“I heard you fine. I just don’t like the way you demanded me to do it, and I’m not going to do whatever you tell me. Captive or not. Plus, I’m not hungry.”

He looked at me with a clench of his jaw that instantly made my stomach fall, but instead of saying or doing anything, he went to build the fire instead.

He didn’t say anything more, but quickly and efficiently cut up the cheese and salami and had it displayed on a paper plate in minutes. And as averse as I was at the idea of eating, I had to admit that the meat and cheese looked delicious.

“So, tell me something, Aria,” he casually said as he popped a piece of cheese into his mouth as he wrapped up the left over, uncut food. “You’re too old to still be living with your father. You’re an adult. So why are you?”

“You clearly know my father and what that means.” I raised my eyebrows as I studied his face. “Do you really find that shocking?”

“You’ve never wanted to leave? To live your own life?” His eyes pinned me where I sat. “Have you never met anyone to love? To start a life with? No man ready to marry you?”

If he truly lived the mob lifestyle, then why was he asking this question? He should know. Only true way to leave my father’s watch was by marrying someone of his choice.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Just small talk, princess. Getting to know you.”

“I don’t want you to get to know me.”

“Too bad.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Do I need to remind you that I make the rules here?”

I crossed my arms and looked away. It took all my might to not tell the man to go fuck himself. But I was wiser than that. I knew exactly where that would land me.

Although the words burned my tongue.

It was an acceptable assumption that, at my age, daughter of the mob boss, I would be engaged for business reasons alone, however. And maybe that is what he was getting at with his question. “I’m not engaged to be married. There’s no one in my life, and no, there is no one my father has felt is suitable for his princess.” I sneered as I said the last word, hating that every single time he had called me princess, he had been spot on. I was nothing but a spoiled, kept, and sheltered mafia princess who had never even been in a cabin of this condition before.

He nodded as if my answer was satisfactory to him. He was only fucking over my father by kidnapping me. Not involving anyone else.

Chapter Seven

Matthew

“Well, I guess that’s good, considering what we did last night. I would have hated to steal from another man.” I regretted it as soon as I spoke, but I couldn’t take the words back.

Her face immediately became shuttered, those bright eyes dimmed, and as she hugged herself for warmth, she avoided looking at me, and that was the last thing I wanted. She was the strangest, most intriguing woman I had met in a long time if ever, and I wanted to know more about her, not less. And as I watched her more closely than I had before, I noticed that she was shaking.

Without another word, I stalked over to the bed where she was sitting, grabbed a hold of the edge of it and pulled it over in front of the fire, then reached into a bag that had yet to be opened and pulled out a blanket, forcibly wrapping her up in it and hauling her to lay down on the bed, molding her to me spoon fashion with her closest to the fire.

She shot back up as if she was on a spring, and I put her back in her place each time, but on the third instance, my patience—for which I had never really been known for—had reached its end.

“Aria stop. It’s cold, and you’re shaking. Stop being so stubborn,” I warned. I hoped my stern voice was enough to stop her actions. I wasn’t about to let her suffer the cold and be miserable all because she was too stubborn to admit she needed my warmth.

“I’m fine.”

“Aria…” I wasn’t going to play this battle of wills.

“I’m not cold.” Her body still shook, but not as badly since the fire clearly was working its magic.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to.” I tightened my grip on her when she tried to stand, preventing her from doing so.

“And I don’t appreciate you being a bossy asshole. I’m a grown woman and can do what I want damn it. Cold or not.”

It was laughably easy to push her onto her stomach, then reach down and lift both the hem of her robe and the blanket up over her head.

“Stop! What are you doing?” she screeched.

“I don’t know what manners your parents clearly didn’t teach you, but you do not have the mouth of a lady. I won’t tolerate it.”

I took hold of her robe, shedding her of it in seconds, and throwing it across the room just before one hand descended on the back of her neck, holding her in place for the other hand that immediately found cheeks that were icy cold to the touch.

“Who do you think you are? Who are you to say how I speak?” She struggled with all her might with little effort needed to control her on my part.

“That, my princess, you are about to find out.”

Besides intriguing and interesting, she was also one of the most headstrong, most stubborn females I had ever encountered. And if I was truthful with myself, which I was only sometimes of late, I would admit that I would love to maybe enjoy this time I had with her taming her to my hand. So that when I put her somewhere, she stayed there, or when I told her to do something, she did it immediately and without question.

“You let go of me this instant!”

“As long as you are under my roof. And for now, this cabin serves as that. You belong to me. No woman of mine will talk to me with such disrespect.” I punctuated my words with a loud swat to her bare behind, and then another for good measure.

“I’m not some whore who can be owned. I’m not yours,” she bit back.

“Exactly!” I peppered her ass at rapid speed. Spanking every inch of skin I could, only to repeat the same action again. “You are not a whore. You are a classy woman and should act as such. And since you clearly have forgotten how a grown, sophisticated, and elegant woman acts, I’ll take it upon myself to remind you.”

Damn, I would enjoy that enormously. My cock was hard, my heart beat rapidly, but my determination to teach Aria a lesson kept me focused on the task at hand.

As I spanked her, delivering crisp, and deliberately very painful swats to every inch of the flesh that was available to me above her knees and beneath the small of her back, my cock became even further engorged, pressing uncomfortably against my pants.

Not that she simply lay there and let me swat her. She was like a whirling storm, doing her best to try to move the parts of her that I didn’t have my hand on, most particularly her legs, until I very carefully placed one of mine over hers, effectively and efficiently trapping them against the bed so that she had no choice but to be still for her punishment.

“You son of a bitch!” she yelled on the top of her lungs, but the fight began to ease up a bit.

“I don’t know what kind of upbringing you come from, princess, but whoever taught you how to be a lady, they did you a great disservice by not teaching you to obey a man who wears a gun and has a hand on your ass. Frankly, they did a disservice not teaching you to show respect to a man, period.”

“I have never had a man treat me the way you do, you chauvinistic shithead,” she wailed as I continued with the spanking. I made sure to pay close attention to her sit spots this time, enjoying the way her flesh rippled beneath my hand.

“Well, that is a shame. It’s a shame you haven’t had a man who cared enough and loved you enough to take you in hand when you need it.”

There was no way I could miss how she froze at my words. I could feel just how tense she was keeping her body, despite how thoroughly I tormented her upturned, and perfectly firm ass.

And somehow I took her posture as a bit of direct defiance and spanked her well beyond what I might have, not stopping until finally, when I was just about to stand up and free my belt, I felt her finally give in and submit, burying her face in the bed to try to cover her tears. As if it embarrassed her to be crying in front of me.

I was appalled when I looked down at her and saw just how badly I had ravaged her ass, but then I hardened my heart against being too soft on or with her. She’d needed that. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to do it again for a while, not that I would shirk away from it if that wasn’t the case. If I determined that she needed me to paddle her ass within the hour, then I would without hesitation. We were in a life or death situation, and I couldn’t constantly worry about whether or not she was going to decide to do what I told her to do. And as I turned her back against me, forcing her to snuggle her poor raw, bare bottom against the front of my pants and tormenting myself in an entirely different way from her, but just as badly, that was exactly what I said.

“When I want you to do something, whether I’m asking, showing, or telling, I expect you to do it. Your life might well depend on it.” I was glad that she couldn’t see just how tightly my jaw was clenched at the idea of me being the cause of her death, or for that matter, her being harmed at all. If something happened to her as the result of me forcing her to get involved in my completely twisted up life, I would never forgive myself. My revenge was with her father. She was right when she said she wasn’t him. I needed to remind myself of that fact. My hate was not hers to endure.

I held her there, against me, one big hand low on her tummy, my other arm beneath her head as a makeshift pillow. I could feel—even through my pants—just how thorough a job I had done on her. She was generating so much heat from her poor punished ass. Well, at least part of her was warm, I thought to myself. But as I let my hand begin to wander south, there were other, more pleasurable ways to warm her up, and I wanted to explore every single one of them with her.

But I stopped my descent as my stomach growled loudly, and I realized that I needed to acquiesce to its demands, if not for her then for me. I was hungry, and I could imagine that she was too. I had to give her credit—she had traveled for hours and I hadn’t heard a peep of complaint out of her, as a true mafia princess would have. She was, however, already much too thin for my tastes, and far too stubborn to actually ask for food, so it was on me to make sure it happened.

I was happier than I should have been when she said that she wasn’t engaged to be married. I didn’t find it shocking that the bastard Costa hadn’t sold his daughter off to increase his power and prestige, but still happy to hear it. I had no right to be thinking of anything like that in regards to her.

The truth was that I should never have taken her with me. Kidnapping Costa’s daughter as payback was fucking stupid. I was starting to realize that now with every minute I had Aria in my possession. I would never hurt her, and most definitely not kill her. Surely, Costa would know that and call my bluff. Had I killed men before? No. And Vittorio Costa could figure that out real quick. I also didn’t take casualties of war, and that was exactly what Aria was.

Fuck me.

Kidnapping Aria just added another problem to my huge list of already existing problems.

Still, she was gorgeous and warm and had the most magnificent hair… and nearly fucking her last night—the way she’d felt naked in my arms forced me to ignore this glaring problem of mine. I knew I would be replaying that memory in my mind long after she was gone, and I intended to add more memories tonight, tomorrow, the next day… for as long as I had her. For now, though, I denied myself by feeding her bits of salami and cheese while still holding her close to keep her warm.

Or rather, trying to.

She refused to eat, and was lying stiffly against me again, as if she would bolt away given the first chance.

Sighing heavily, I said, “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Apparently, our little session didn’t teach you a thing.”

The tears that I thought she had gotten through rose to the surface. I could hear the quivering in her voice. “I don’t know why you are doing all of this. What is your end goal? You don’t seem like the type of man who needs money. So, ransom doesn’t seem like it’s the end result. If you wanted me dead, wouldn’t you have already? So what? What exactly is it you want?”

I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell her. It was only a matter of time until she was free. Either by my hand when her father did exactly as I demanded, or due to my death if I fucked this up. But either way, the less she knew, the better. But at the same time, she wasn’t a fool and was smart enough to know it wasn’t by chance she was taken. She was a pawn and she knew that.

“Your father fucked me over, and now there’s a price to pay,” I pretty much snarled, feeling her trembling in my arms from something other than cold. “And I don’t think you are such a naive woman that you don’t know what your father is capable of. An intelligent woman would know that Daddy Dearest has a lot of enemies which makes you vulnerable. I’m just the man who had enough balls to actually strike, take, and hold on to what he feels is his.”

“So, you plan on keeping me? For how long? Or do you plan on never returning me?”

“That depends on him. And you.”

I heard her sigh as her body tensed. “You don’t know my father.”

“I do. Trust me, I do.” I stared at my gun. It was never very far away from me nowadays; sitting on the floor next to the bed when I reached for it and brought it up to set it on the bed in front of her, facing the fire and away from either of us. A reminder. “You don’t know me. Your father doesn’t know me and what I am capable of.”

When she spoke again, it was clipped and emotionless. “And I’m just to be your captive and behave?”

“Yes, and eat the damned food when I offer it to you.” I pushed another piece past her lips to shut her up and change the subject. Speaking of her father only angered me, and I was doing everything within my being to remain calm, levelheaded, and to silent the rage that bubbled from within. A man of fury did not make wise decisions.

I debated leaving the gun there, just to make a quiet point, but I knew I didn’t trust her enough to do that. So, I put it back under my side of the bed and brought another piece of meat to her mouth, which this time, she opened without me having to force her to.

She ate several pieces I offered her after that, then refused the next, saying, “I’m full, thank you.”

“Two more bites,” I decreed. I didn’t want to stop feeding her. The truth of the matter was that I enjoyed the intimacy of the entire situation.

I enjoyed Aria.

My captive.

My revenge.

My problem.

But also… I enjoyed my delicious little pet, and as she ate from my hand, I pictured making her purr once again. But this time, around my cock.

When I stopped, inches from fucking her in her bedroom, I promised myself that it would be a to be continued. And now was the time. I wasn’t done with little princess quite yet.

Chapter Eight

Matthew

I could hear her sigh as she opened her mouth and I pictured my dick entering it. Too bad she shared blood with Vittorio Costa which made her my enemy regardless how hard she made my dick. Her tastes in the bedroom and mine clearly went hand in hand. Maybe I could keep her longer for enjoyment purposes and not ransom her right away… But then I chided myself inwardly. I couldn’t believe I was even thinking like that. The life we would be forced to lead wasn’t fit for man nor beast, and definitely not for a woman, regardless of her connection to that prick Costa.

Order, structure, rules. I had a code I lived by. No mess. Sparkly clean, and this woman beneath me was anything but mess free.

I needed to deal with this situation with Vittorio Costa swiftly.

But I had her right now, and I intended to enjoy her to the fullest.

I was done thinking.

I was done planning.

I wanted one thing.

I was hungry. Hungry for her.

So, I positioned her onto her back and spread her legs, lowering my head between them in one swift motion. She was already naked, and this left her vulnerable and easy prey for me.

“What are you doing? You can’t just—"

“Quiet,” I demanded.

I moved my tongue—barely, literally dragging it over flesh that I knew was ultra-sensitized even when it was dormant. I knew I was creating deep, hellfire needs in her that she thought based on last night would assume I would never bother to satisfy, but she was wrong there.

She tightened her thighs around my head, but I continued on. She reached down and took hold of my hair but didn’t pull or push me away.

Although I took my time doing it, and she probably thought she was going to die before I allowed her ultimate pleasure, I definitely wasn’t going to leave her hanging. I could well imagine what her other boyfriends were like. I’d wager a year’s worth of fucking that none of them had ever shown any interest at all in her desires. They were probably just as eager as I was to get inside of her.

That thought unleashed something foreign from deep inside, and I stopped what I was doing to look up at her for a long moment as a rage the likes of which I had rarely felt ran through me that I knew I was going to have to ignore. She wasn’t mine… really. She wasn’t anyone’s, except perhaps the daughter of Vittorio Costa. Yes, I kidnapped her, but it was temporary. This wouldn’t last long.

And I knew I had to stop thinking about all of the men who had come before me. They didn’t matter here and now anyway. I was going to soil this mafia princess in the most severe revenge fuck ever, even if it cost me my life, which it damned well might.

I liked to control my woman, especially in bed. I liked to drive her insane to the point where she thought her heart was going to stop beating before I let her fly, and I had a feeling that that might be exactly what she would like the most.

To be controlled, as much as she might protest against the idea.

And I loved to punish them. To find one who actually became aroused by being spanked… She was a rare gem indeed, and if the circumstances were different, I might even have been able to look beyond her family bloodline in order to have exclusive rights to her—and I would make damned sure it was exclusive. But circumstances were not different. They were what they were.

Fuck her now. Ransom business later.

With those thoughts, I began to move my tongue with more force and speed.

And she was already right there, right on the edge. I recognized the pleading sound of her groans and whimpers, but I would not allow her to peak that quickly. It went against my grain. So, I carefully timed both the rhythm of my mouth and tongue as well as my hold on her breasts—using that to back her off or move her further towards my goal for her.

Guiding her.

Tempting her.

Almost training her by the judicious, and vicious, use of pain and pleasure until I could hear that there was going to be no return from this last erotic assault.

I lifted my head for the first time in a very long time and said, “Come, princess, come. Quickly. I’m just itching to take my belt to your ass if you hold back.”

I felt her hips jerk at my threat, and despite the fact that I could hear her muffled chant of, “No, no, no!” seconds later she was a mindless mass of writhing ecstasy, her breath hissing loudly out of her lungs only to be dragged slowly back in, her every muscle taut with the rigor of the intense pleasure I had brought her to, head whipping back and forth against the pillow.

It took all my will and strength to quickly get off the bed and reach for the bag nearby that held a condom. As much as I was tempted placing my seed inside of her to piss off Vittoria Costa even more, I wasn’t ready to go down that road yet.

Yet…

Before she had a chance to recover much at all, I moved to position myself, pressing my overeager dick against an opening I could barely find for all of the wetness surrounding it. And as much as she seemed to still be in the grips of her own bliss, she apparently had the presence of mind to have decided to fight me again, but I wasn’t going to have any of that.

Since I knew I would disgrace myself entirely if I disciplined her again, I instead pinned her wrists to the bed, one on each side of her head and commanded, “Look at me, princess.”

She whipped her head back and forth in protest until I gripped her wrists with one of mine, and with the other, I reached down and twisted a nipple until she complied, and that was the first time I came face to face with the stark evidence of…

Fear. Yes, fear.

And good. She should fear me.

It would make this entire plan easier if she did. And fucking her or not, I would hold onto that fear.

I had her eyes now; they were locked with mine, and although I wanted to be a good enough man to stop at this point because she was so obviously afraid, I knew I wasn’t that good a man. Especially now. Maybe I never had been, but events of late had stripped away a lot of my veneer of civilization, and I guessed this was just one more stripe of flesh off my hide.

At least she’d had her pleasure, I knew that without a doubt, and I’d offer some soft kisses and affection when I was done. That would ease my conscience—for a while, anyway. And maybe this was her game. This little vixen liked to pretend she didn’t enjoy it, but her juices coating her inner thigh gave away her carnivorous delight. I watched her at the party. I saw the lust and desire in her eyes and her actions. Yes, this mafia princess was unlike any others I knew, and sadly in my profession, I knew a lot. She was special, she was by far the most beautiful, and she was also the most mysterious. So, fear in her eyes yes, but the hunger behind them pleaded for more.

And when she tilted her hips toward me, silently urging my cock to possess her, I surrendered to the dictates of my body and flexed my hips forward, wanting to claim her in one swift motion.

It was about me now. My cock couldn’t wait any longer.

Me. My dick. Two powerful forces that couldn’t be denied any longer.

But I couldn’t just slide into her tight little hole that was more than lubricated from arousal. Something was preventing me from claiming her as easy as I expected, although I couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be. I leaned into her further, determined to overcome whatever obstacle this was, and as I glanced up into her eyes, the stark realization of exactly what was stopping me came into my head all at once.

This mafia princess was a virgin.

I wanted to reel back. I wanted to disengage entirely, release her hands, and hold her to me. I wanted to gather her things and take her with me and keep her mine forever, no matter what the hardships that would cause, so that we could do this again in a safer place, where I could take my time and be sure she understood what was going to happen and make sure she wasn’t afraid of it. Nice and easy.

Making love to her sweet pussy rather than fucking it.

But I knew, even as the realization dawned on me, that none of those things was going to happen. And when she nodded her head ever so slightly in approval, I reached down and held her hips still while thrusting my own as hard as I could against her, driving myself up inside her partially, knowing I had torn her defenses a bit but not completely, before making a second, successful attempt that had me buried within her to the balls—seconds from losing myself completely within her.

And I forced himself to watch her face the entire time. It was the least possible penance, considering what I was doing to her even though I knew it was her first time. Our eyes connected, and we never looked away.

A joining, a magnetic pull, a lock in stare.

I should say I was sorry. I should leave her and beg her forgiveness as I did so.

But what I did was fuck her—hard and mindlessly.

Stole her virginity.

Ravished her purity.

And shamefully.

I wasn’t the kind of man to worry much about what anyone else thought. I always tried to do what I thought was best in any given situation, even the worst ones. Guilt about sex was a particular waste as far as I was concerned, and that was an opinion I’d had since I could remember. But she was getting the short end of the stick here because of how degraded my life had become, and how angry I was about my own lack of control over my own life.

I was deeply ashamed to realize just how far I had fallen. That my rage had shredded my control and my own code of honor in other areas of my life, like this one. And she happened to—quite literally—be in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seemed.

I wondered if this mafia blueblood beneath me was truly as innocent as she seemed.

Virgin yes… or at least she was a virgin.

But how innocent was she?

She was still part of the Costa family.

But the ecstasy she twisted within me—however reluctantly she played—was something I couldn’t deny. Parts of me wanted it to last much longer than it did, but other parts wanted it to be mercifully short for her. In reality, it landed somewhere in the middle, with me burying my face in the pillow next to her in order to stifle my bellow of such pure satisfaction that I felt weak and drained afterwards, so much so that I actually collapsed down on top of her, which was something I rarely did since I was so much bigger than the women I’d had beneath me.

I was left, panting uncontrollably, largely incoherent and unable to move for a good long while, until I realized with a start where I was and practically leaped off her and to one side, but still mindful enough to retain a hold on her wrists regardless. The damage having been already done. I wasn’t of a mind to let her go any too soon.

I stretched out next to her, tossing the condom, zipping my fly, which was the only part of my own clothing that had been somewhat rearranged, and enjoyed the sight of her lying there naked, a bright red sex flush still staining her chest and breasts.

“I didn’t realize you were a virgin.”

Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as she slowly nodded her head, her eyes skittering nervously away from mine, which sent a twinge through my chest that I had no interest at all in examining.

I had turned into a monster and I sure as fuck didn’t need to dive into the deepest, and darkest depths of my soul to find out why.

I used my hold on her wrists to pull her to my side and said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I know it must not have been easy losing your… well, it must not have been easy.” I stroked her hair, gently swiping the loose pieces that fell in front of her eyes to join the mass of luscious chestnut brown atop her head. Her wide brown eyes looked up into mine. She seemed to be examining my features, taking in every inch of my face. Her eyes sparkled from the left-over tears, but they ceased from flowing. Her breathing evened and her body relaxed. What a true beauty she was.

“What’s your name?” she asked. “Can you at least tell me that now?”

It was a normal question to ask… humane, civil. It was the least I could do. I couldn’t just fuck her and not allow her to know at least a little about me.

“I’m… Matthew. Matthew Price.” I released her right hand long enough to offer her my own, and when she took it, I turned hers over so that I could kiss the back of it. With a sheepish smile, I reclaimed her hands in mine, saying, “Kind of fucked up to introduce myself now, I suppose.”

“I think everything about you and me is fucked up,” she said, though I didn’t see anger in her at all. She was simply stating a fact.

“If I had known you were a virgin—"

“What?” she interrupted. “You wouldn’t have fucked me? Or you wouldn’t have kidnapped me? Or would you have offered me roses and candlelight beforehand? Or—"

“You didn’t act like a virgin in your bedroom,” I countered, feeling a bit more justified for not being aware. “I thought you were more… experienced.”

Would I have changed my mind in fucking her had I known that she not only looked pure and angelic, but that she truly was? I would like to say it would have, but then again, the need to be inside her was overwhelmingly powerful.

Taking her virginity complicated things which frankly pissed me off. It made it more personal. It would have been a hell of a lot easier had she just been the kinky daughter of my enemy who attended sex parties and not a girl saving herself for the right man.

I was not Mr. Right.

Her mouth opened and then shut. She looked away as her face flushed. I didn’t want to embarrass her or shame her. That wasn’t my intent.

“And yes, you deserve roses and candlelight. I’m sorry that our circumstances stole that away from you.”

Chapter Nine

Aria

Matthew Price.

I finally knew his name. For some odd reason, I expected that as soon as I heard his name, I would recognize it somehow. At the very least, recognize the last name as belonging to a mafia family.

But nothing.

I couldn’t remember my father mentioning him once or heard his name brought up in passing.

He took a bite of cheese and then placed a piece in my mouth.

Although I detested being treated like a child, or weak… or however you would classify this situation of being hand fed, I swallowed my pride and did exactly as I was told. Although I would never admit it out loud, I had very little choice, and I didn’t have any more energy to continue to fight the man. He was the one with the gun, and I couldn’t forget that this man was on the run from my father. My father would do whatever it took to get me back.

Not out of love but out of pride. I was pretty sure that everyone at the party was aware by now that I had been kidnapped. So, my father would have to save face more than anything else. Matthew Price had no idea just how suicidal his actions of stealing me were.

Dead man walking.

And I felt sorry for him. I didn’t want him dead. Far from it.

He’d taken my virginity, punished me, humiliated me, shamed me, kidnapped me, and gotten me shot at, all in the space of a few hours. In spite of all of that, I was insatiably curious about him and lusted after him like no other man I had ever met.

I was beginning to learn that there was a very fine line between hate and lust.

Fear and desire.

Captive and welcomed.

Matthew went from domineering to loving, then back to domineering quicker than I could wrap my head around it. The contrast had my head spinning. But what was even more confusing was the contrast in my body. My ass burned like Hades, but my sex begged for more. The need for Matthew’s dominance and the hunger for his touch confused me. Even though I wanted the spanking to end, there was a part of me that wanted it to continue… even harder. Being forced to spread my legs wide and have him claim me only brought on the animalistic desires locked away inside. He had set my body ablaze with forbidden fantasies.

I had finally lost my virginity and though this wasn’t exactly how I pictured it happening, I had never felt such intense and amazing feelings before. It was painful but in the most delicious of ways. I would be lying if I didn’t feel alive and free from the constraints of my life by finally shedding the last of my protected youth.

Ironic since I was anything but free in my current situation.

Matthew released a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.”

I positioned my body so I could stare up at him. I grimaced when my bottom scraped against the bed. “Sorry for what?” I asked. Not sure how to read this man. Was he sorry for kidnapping me? Pushing me past barriers of right and wrong? Sorry for forcing my body to submit even though my mind countered by demanding answers for why and how? Was he sorry for turning my entire life upside down and erupting chaos into every waking moment?

“I’m sorry if you feel like a captive,” he said as he fed me the last bite of the meat. “I’m not an easy man. But believe me when I say that I am a good man… or at least I was. Times of late have blurred the lines for me. I may never be that good man again. But I guess it’s important to me that you know there was a time I was a good man.”

I sighed loudly and decided to let down my wall slightly. I had just had sex with the man after all. “To be honest, I do feel like a captive. But not just by you. I have my entire life. My father has always kept me locked up in a gilded cage. Actually, jumping off that roof with you was the first time I felt true freedom. It was by far the stupidest thing I have ever done, and yet I don’t regret a thing. There’s been times I could have ran. Tried to escape. From both you and my father.” I took a deep breath and positioned my body so I could stare into his concerned eyes better. “But I made a choice to stay. So yes, I’m a captive. But what my exact binds are, I’m not sure,” I said barely above a whisper. Our lips were so close that I almost wanted to lean forward and kiss him… almost. But the idea of what that kiss would mean, what it would do—terrified me.

Matthew stared at me with a look of confusion on his face but luckily didn’t ask for clarification. “So,” he said, breaking the spell, “what was it like growing up the daughter of Vittorio Costa?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I said. “You clearly know my father, and you wouldn’t have come and kidnapped me from my house without knowing all there is about me.” Although I hadn’t intended to do it, I found myself turning the question back at him. “Did you once work for my father? Or a rival family? I can’t tell if you have mafia in your blood.”

Like me, Matthew seemed to have his own reasons for being vague about who he was. We were each considering our answers to each other very carefully before giving them, weighing just how much truth we wanted to reveal. “Yes, I have connections with the mafia. With the underground in general. But it’s not in my blood.”

“Did you work for my father?”

“I don’t work for anyone,” he answered readily enough, getting up to stoke the fire, then settling back down beside me until he reached over and turned me to look at him, the better to see my face. “How much do you know about your father’s business dealings? The people who works for him?”

I thought for a moment and decided there was no reason not to tell him the truth. “Very little.”

“You’ve never been part of the business? Never curious?”

I chuckled, realizing it was the first time since this whole nightmare started. “No. My father treated me like a little china doll. Fragile. Breakable. Weak maybe? I don’t know. My mother died when I was young, so I was all he had left. If he could have, he would have locked me away in a tower somewhere like Rapunzel.”

He frowned down at me, clearly not liking the answer.

“I guess you could say I’m the classic mafia princess. Spoiled little rich girl.” I hadn’t thought much about it and shrugged before saying, “But you already knew this, so why ask me?”

“I don’t’ think you’re fragile. Or broken. And I most certainly don’t think you are weak.” Matthew reached up to stroke my hair away from my face. “I think you were dealt some shitty cards being born to that man.”

I shrugged.

“We need to get some sleep,” he said, followed by a yawn. “We’ll leave as soon as we wake up.”

“Leave?” I glanced around the small cabin assuming we would remain here until this was all over.

“This was just a quick stop to rest up. The drive is still a couple hours from here, but the roads are windy and not driven often. I didn’t want to try to traverse them in the pitch dark while tired.”

“Where are we going?”

“I have a house in the mountains,” he answered.

“We are in a house in the mountains.” Why swap one prison for another?

He chuckled as he laid down and pulled me down with him. “Yeah well this cabin could fit inside a closet in my house. I think you’ll be far more comfortable in my house rather than this hunter’s pit stop.”

I remained quiet, taking in the fact that I was about to go to his house. His comfortable house.

“I hope it won’t be for long,” he said. “Your father and I have some business to handle, and if all goes well, and you behave and follow all my rules, you will walk out of this with every hair on your head. It will just be like waking up from a bad dream.”

I watched the fire flicker in front of me as Matthew’s breathing grew heavy. I couldn’t process. I couldn’t come to terms with what just occurred. I had no choice but to close my eyes and hope that when I woke up, this entire ordeal would be over.

It was just a bad dream.

The boogie monster wasn’t under the bed.

No… the boogie monster was asleep behind me, holding me tight.

Chapter Ten

Matthew

The trip to the house wasn’t exactly easy. The roads were much worse than I anticipated so I was glad that we had stopped at the hunter’s cabin for the night. Trying to traverse the windy and rocky roads was difficult enough in the daylight. Aria sat in silence, staring out the window, as we bounced our way up the mountain. I was grateful for the quiet since I really didn’t know what to say.

Guilt.

Yes, I had guilt which wasn’t something I had planned for in all this. And I couldn’t just blame the sex for the guilt either. I had had sex with many women before and not allowed a connection or the need to feel I should provide more than just a really good orgasm. Stealing glances at Aria, I struggled to figure out why I almost felt sorry for the woman and why I doubted taking her up to my house and considered calling off my entire plan all together.

“We’re almost there,” I said.

“By the looks of how often this road is driven, it doesn’t look like you come here often,” she said.

“Not often enough. But I visit the house another way when I do.” I opened my fists that both held the stirring wheel tightly to get some blood flow moving into them again. “I don’t take vacations often, but when I do, this house is my getaway from everything.”

“So, you’re taking me on vacation?” she mumbled as she continued to stare out the window at the passing pine and cedar trees.

“I’ve made all the proper arrangements to make sure you are as comfortable as possible.” I glanced at her still sitting in her robe and grimaced at her dirty bare feet. “There’s clothes and shoes at the house. I guessed your size, so there are few different sizes of clothing and shoes in the closet, but I’m sure there will be something you can make do with. I also have stocked the bathroom with all the shampoos and female products that you should need. I’ll be leaving the house to conduct some business shortly, so if you do need anything else, you can provide me with a list.”

“Fantastic,” she mumbled again as she crossed her arms against her chest. “Sounds delightful.”

I didn’t know what else to say. I was pissed at myself for the thinking everything through. This spontaneous act of kidnapping my foe’s daughter could go down as the most idiotic move I had ever made simply because I didn’t figure in every factor. All I saw was red.

Now what?

I fucked her, which I had planned. But now the ache in the pit of my stomach made me question doing it again. She was mine now, in a place her father would never be able to find her, but now I didn’t know how long I truly wanted to keep her with me. I expected to be more of an asshole about this, and here I was telling her about clothes and bath products. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if this woman fought me the entire way and I had to have her tied up and gagged. Then I could just be the fucking monster that I wanted to be.

But no. She just sat there. Compliant.

“How do you know I won’t try to run away when you leave me to conduct business?” she finally said as we had driven another slow, agonizing mile of bumps and dips that had my spine rattle with every jarring move.

“Run where?” I said. “Have you not been paying attention to this road? It would take you days to try to get to the nearest town by foot. There won’t be any phones or computers at the house. So, you might as well try to get escape ideas out of your head right now.”

“Or what? You’ll chain me to a chair in the basement?”

“Or you’ll die,” I snapped. “You’ll either freeze to death trying to hike off the mountain, or some animal will eat you.” I glared at her for a split second before I had to focus back on the road. “I told you. If you do everything right, you’ll be returned back to your father.”

“You mean if my father does everything right?” she corrected. “And what if he doesn’t? Have you considered that? You’re assuming that he actually cares about me enough to follow your orders and pay whatever ransom it is you want.”

“He will.”

“You don’t know my father. You don’t know how he feels about me. Do you really think he’s crying and distraught over the fact that you’ve kidnapped me?”

“Any father would do what it takes to get his daughter back.”

She huffed. “You’ll see. And exactly what is it that he has to do? Money? Is it money you want?”

“I have plenty of money. More than your father.”

“Then what?”

The house came into view. Finally. My ass and back couldn’t take anymore driving. A stream of smoke coming out of the chimney told me that Tennessee had arrived as planned and knowing him would have the house staged like it belonged in some magazine or home reality show. Oddly, it made me happy and proud to know that Aria would be safe and comfortable within the walls of my home.

She shook her head and smirked. “Yeah, I would say this house is a step up from the shack we were just in.”

The five-bedroom, 3500 square foot cabin, made out of heavy cedar logs wasn’t nearly as large as some of my properties, but it had a level of rustic charm about it that made it one of my favorites. The wrap around porch with the rocking chairs, wind chimes, and large carved bear with a welcome sign in its paws always made me smile as I approached. I didn’t really have a home per se. Many of them. But this one always filled me with a sense of comfort. The twenty acres of land that surrounded it also fed into my need to own land. Since most of my businesses were in New Orleans, New York, Los Angeles and other metropolitan cities, this cabin in the woods gave me a sense of truly having a homestead rather than just several sky rise penthouses or expensive mansions in the suburbs—all of which I owned as well.

Pulling up to the house, I took a deep breath to try to release all the tension in my shoulders from the drive.

“It’s pretty,” she said. “Only the best cages for me, I suppose.”

I opened the door of the truck, eager to get out. “I suppose.”

There wasn’t any snow on the ground, but the ground would no doubt be freezing cold since a storm was clearly brewing in the horizon. Whether or not if Aria wanted me to or not, I walked around to her side of the truck, opened the door, and lifted her into my arms as we were making a habit of doing. Her eyes darted around, no doubt taking in her surroundings. I wouldn’t blame her one bit if she was seeing if there were any opportunities for escape. There weren’t of course, but she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t at least consider the option.

Walking up the porch, I took my own assessment of the surroundings. I had arranged for a property manager to come and take care of the house monthly, and I was pleased that he had done a good job with the exterior and no doubt the interior as well. The house was just as I had left it.

As we crossed the threshold of the house and entered, a wave of warmth from the roaring fire in the center of the great room and the fragrant smell of something baking in the kitchen overwhelmed the senses.

Home.

Welcome home.

I placed Aria gently down on the ground and slammed the door intentionally to announce to Tennessee the we had arrived.

The fire roared, and the stacked wood beside the hearth proved that Tennessee had already made himself at home and had found the woodshed out back. He was resilient, and I figured he would adjust just fine when he arrived. I looked at my favorite leather chair that sat next to the fire and tried not to answer its call to me. A strong cognac, a good thriller novel, and no noise but the crackle of the fire was a strong pull right now. I could see Aria cuddled under the throw quilt on the leather couch directly in front of the fire with her own novel as it snowed softly outside the floor to ceiling windows to the right and left of the room.

“I was wondering when you would get here,” Tennessee said as he walked out of the kitchen with a towel in his hands. He froze mid step as he locked his eyes on Aria. “I uh, didn’t realize you were bringing a guest.” He went from taking in Aria’s disheveled appearance in nothing but a dirty robe and bare feet to me still in my fancy suit—though wrinkled—with a look of confusion in his eyes. I knew the man well enough that he wouldn’t question me in front of a stranger, and that he would wait until we were in private to get the answer that no doubt he was wanting. I also knew that Tennessee would keep his mouth shut and do as I asked when it came to Aria. He may not exactly like the fact that I didn’t tell him I would be kidnapping a mob boss’s daughter and keeping her here for Tennessee to watch over while I was gone, but he would still do what was needed. There wasn’t anything Tennessee wouldn’t do for me or for any of my business partners. This wouldn’t be the first time we asked him to break a law, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was our world. And since Tennessee lived in our world and worked for the seven of us, he knew exactly what that meant.

“I’m going to show her to her room and get cleaned up,” I said as I took Aria by the hand.

“I have dinner cooking,” Tennessee said. “Plenty for all.”

I nodded as my stomach growled in anticipation. Cheese and salami had long been digested. “Good. We’ll be down soon.”

I tugged Aria forward when she didn’t immediately follow me. She twisted her body and snapped her hand away from mine. “I can walk,” she said, making it very obvious to Tennessee that my guest was anything but.

Tennessee quirked an eyebrow at me as we made eye contact, but he didn’t say a single word. Good man. Good man indeed.

“Come on. I’ll show you your room,” I said to Aria. I started for the stairs and luckily Aria followed. I wasn’t in the mood for confrontation. At least not until I filled Tennessee in on all the details.

“I took the room next to the bathroom on the right,” Tennessee said.

“Good,” I said. “I planned on putting her in the room across from yours.”

“One hour and dinner is served,” Tennessee called out as both Aria and climbed the stairs. “Don’t make me hunt you both down. Dinner won’t taste good cold. So, make quick work of getting beautified.”

When we got to the landing, I pointed at the bathroom. “There’s towels and everything you should need in there.” I then pointed to her room. “I’m sure you can find something to wear. Make yourself at home.”

“Home?” she scoffed. “You’re a real sick bastard you know that? You are just acting like there’s nothing wrong in what is happening right now.” She pointed downstairs. “Is he on it? Does he know you stole me from my bedroom?”

“He will,” I answered. “Tennessee has worked for me for a long time. We go way back.”

“Great,” she rolled her eyes, “so he’s just as fucked up as you.”

“Aren’t we all fucked up to some degree?” I smiled, knowing I was taunting her. I could see she was reaching her boiling point, but I rather enjoyed seeing the fire light up in her eyes. It was quite the contrast to the quiet woman who just seemed sad as she stared out the truck window the entire trip.

“Is that how you justify this?” Her lip quivered, but I felt it was out of anger rather than sadness. “Are you just going to tell that man downstairs that you kidnapped me, and he’s not going to care at all because we’re all just a little fucked up?”

“I don’t have to justify myself to Tennessee, you, or anyone else. I stopped answering to anyone a long time ago.”

“It shows,” she snapped. “If you weren’t surrounded by yes man your entire adult life, you actually would be able to see how absolutely insane entire situation is. And that man downstairs allowing this is just as insane as you.”

I reached for the handle to her room and opened the door. “Well, there is one thing I better warn you about Tennessee. And you better take this warning fucking serious if you know what is good for you.” I leaned in so I could whisper the words into her ear. “You better not be late for supper or he’ll tan your hide.” I then leaned back and gave her a wink and half smile.

Yes, I was a fucking bastard.

Chapter Eleven

Aria

I needed a shower. Bad. I also couldn’t wait to put on clothes and then burn the robe I was wearing. I could smell Matthew on me. A spicy, rich aroma that was not only intoxicating but infuriating. I wasn’t about to be one of those martyr captives and refuse to shower, eat, or sleep. I was stuck here, and until I could figure out what to do next, I might as well make the best of the situation.

The room—my room—was warm and inviting. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room covered in a quilt with dears and bears on it. There were pillows stacked in an orderly fashion that read Welcome to the Cabin, and Home Cabin Home. The rustic chic of the furniture and room accessories belonged in a ski lodge somewhere. I was pretty sure that Matthew didn’t decorate the place himself but rather hired some expensive interior designer, but regardless, it was done well. It was how I had always wished our home in Aspen was. The antler chandelier cast a warm light that wasn’t too bright, but strong enough that I could curl up in the fluffy flannel sheets and read a good book.

Comfortable.

Inviting.

Not the dungeon or miserable surroundings one would expect when being kidnapped and held for ransom.

Opening the closet door, I was surprised to see that not only had Matthew bought clothes and shoes for me as he said he had done, but the large walk in closet was stacked full with sweaters, dresses, boots, flats, jeans, sweats, and whatever you could imagine one would need to live in the mountains.

Jesus Christ. How long was he planning on keeping me here?

If this was at my father’s house, I would be expected to wear a dress and heels to dinner, but something told me that I wouldn’t be expected to be as formal here. I tried to remember what Tennessee was wearing and could only remember that he was in some sort of smoking jacket and a caveat around his neck. Although he did give off a sense of comfort. Enough so that I was comfortable grabbing a sweater that screamed mountain cabin and a pair of gray slacks. I also grabbed a pair of black ballet slippers so I wouldn’t have to hunt down socks at the moment.

On my way to the bathroom, I decided to stop at the window and look out, no doubt the view being just as beautiful as the house. I needed to get all my oohs and awws out of the way before seeing Matthew again. No way would I admit that any part of this place was nice. I wouldn’t ever give him the satisfaction of letting him know that this bedroom I had just been assigned to was far better than the sterile and cold one I had back at home in Aspen.

Staring out the window, I was surprised to see a large landing pad and a helicopter parked on it. But was I really surprised? No. Of course he had a helicopter and considering how awful the road was to get here, I couldn’t say I exactly blamed him. There were tall trees all around, except for a wide-open field with just enough room for the helicopter to land safely. Actually, there seemed enough room for one if not two others to land as well. Hell, he could have a helicopter party.

Rolling my eyes, I walked toward the bathroom. I wasn’t sure why I was annoyed by the man’s show of wealth. It wasn’t like I lived in poverty. Far from it. Maybe that was why. Wealth, opulence, and ridiculous displays of money had surrounded me my entire life. I never worked a day in my life—not that my father would have allowed it—and I had always been ashamed of that fact.

Clenching my jaw as I turned on the water of the shower to heat up, I realized why I hated when Matthew called me princess. Because he was right. I was, and that was all I would be. My father mapped out my life until I was handed off to some other overbearing man to continue mapping the rest of it. Nothing more than pretty arm candy was in my future, and the worst part of it was it wasn’t like any real dreams were being crushed by that fact. I had no real hobbies or passions. I didn’t have any dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer. Career was never a path I even considered because I knew better. Mafia princess was my destiny. Matthew was right. Simply calling it as it was. Princess. Fucking princess.

I was in an even more sour mood when I got in the shower than when I first got in it even though I was clean and felt somewhat human again. And as I did my hair, and even my makeup, I found myself getting more and more annoyed. Why was I even bothering with my appearance? Who did I have to impress? Had I been so groomed to always be perfect for a dinner, that I couldn’t even stop to remind myself that these were my captors I was dining with? They were enemies of my father, and therefore should be enemies of mine.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “I’m heading downstairs,” Matthew said from the other side. “Remember my warning about Tennessee.”

“I’ll be down there in a second,” I called, again wondering why I should make this so easy for them.

I could lock myself in the bathroom.

I could scream and try to claw their eyes out when they’d try to get me out.

I could… hurt them. Hell… I had my father’s blood in me. Maybe I should do more than hurt them. I could kill them both and then make a run for it. They wouldn’t be expecting it from me.

I actually laughed out loud as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Like I could ever do anything like that.

Sighing, I ran a comb through my blow-dried hair one last time and decided I was starving enough to not put up any resistance at this time. I needed time to regroup anyway. I was never one to be rash in anything I did, and this wasn’t a time to start. Look what happened when I decided to act on impulse and go back to my room with a strange man.

As I walked downstairs, I could overhear Tennessee and Matthew speaking.

“You’ve lost your damn mind, but I won’t judge,” Tennessee said.

“Yes, you will and are right now,” Matthew said.

“Fine. Fuck yes, I’m judging,” Tennessee said, “but whatever. You better hope that little girl up there doesn’t drive me crazy. I agreed to babysit you. Not some spoiled little diva.”

“She seems different than what you would expect,” Matthew said. “I expected a high maintenance little brat who I would have to tame.”

“And what about her daddy? Is this house going to become a blood bath like a scene from The Godfather? You don’t pay my ass enough to deal with that.”

“No one knows where we are. Only you, the pilot who flew you here, and me know. I didn’t even tell my partners where I took Aria, but even if they did, we know they will keep their mouths shut. Plus, Daddy Dearest doesn’t even know it was me that took her yet. I haven’t made contact yet and given my demands. But you both will be safe when I’m gone. I can assure that.”

“And you don’t think little diva is going to try to escape?” Tennessee asked.

“And go where? She’s smart enough not to make rash decisions and just go running out into the woods. But I have cameras and alarms set up if she tries. Actually, I have a feeling that our house guest isn’t going to give us that many problems. At least not problems that I can’t handle. We’ve already had some power struggles, and no doubt will have some more. But escaping? No. I’m not concerned as long as we stay on this mountain.”

I hated that they were talking about me, so I decided to walk into the kitchen to make it stop. They both turned and looked me over. Each of them had a drink in their hand as they sat at the large granite island in the center of the room.

“Well hot damn you clean up good,” Tennessee said. “That robe you wore did you no favors.”

Ignoring the bold compliment from the very loud man with a thick southern accent, I remained quiet and in place hoping that there would be some guidance as to where to go or what to do.

Matthew had showered and changed as well and looked far more casual in his own sweater and slacks. Even though he was no longer in an expensive suit, he still exuded wealth and power even as he sat relaxed on a bar stool, without a care in the world, like he was on his first night of vacation.

“Would you like a drink?” Matthew asked.

I nodded. “Yes, please.” I looked at the tumbler in his hand. “Whatever you’re having.” It appeared Tennessee was drinking the same.

Matthew quickly made me a drink and handed it to me. We both made eye contact but didn’t say a word to each other. Was he feeling the awkward tension as well? I didn’t know if I should toss the drink in his face or smile nicely and thank him. I wanted to do both.

“I made roast, potatoes, carrots and peas,” Tennessee announced as he started bringing bowls to a four-man round table to the right of the kitchen island. The wooden table was simple and surrounded by windows. The little eating nook had a beautiful chandelier above it that screamed country charm. Each wooden chair was slightly different appearing as if they had each been found in a different barn somewhere. The table helped warm the kitchen which had expansive counter space of gray granite. The stove looked industrial and all the appliances were stainless steel. Money. Definitely money. And yet the cushions on the stools that surrounded the island looked homemade with the red checkered padding. Everything about the kitchen was a perfect blend of class and comfort. My father should hire Matthew’s designer.

I took a sip of the drink and assumed it was some sort of whiskey, but I had no real idea. I wasn’t going to ask and show my hand that I really didn’t drink often. The last time I drank was champagne at my father’s kink party and that ended with me having something shoved up my ass as a man sucked and licked my body.

My face heated from the memory, and I instantly grew even more uncomfortable if that was even a possibility.

“Come on now. Sit your asses down and eat. My mama will roll over in her grave if I allow her roast recipe to go to waste by getting all dried out or cold.”

Matthew walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for me. My captor was a gentleman.

I sat down and inhaled the smells. I was absolutely famished and could have ate anything, but having a good old-fashioned meal was truly a treat for me. I didn’t have that often, and when I did, it most certainly didn’t look and smell like the meal before me.

“You outdid yourself,” Matthew praised as he started dishing the food onto his plate and then passing the dish to me.

“Yes, I most certainly did,” Tennessee praised himself.

I put the food on my plate, not caring if I appeared lady like in my portion control. My father would most likely scowl if he was at the table as he always felt I should watch what I eat to remain thin and “delicate”. But he wasn’t at the table and the roast was begging to be devoured.

“So, when are we going back to Spiked Roses?” Tennessee asked as he began to eat. “You didn’t tell me that there would be absolutely no cell service up here. How in the hell am I supposed to check in? No phone. No computer. I feel like I have stepped back in time.”

I ate in silence but was determined to take in every word. Spiked Roses? Maybe if I kept my head down and didn’t remind them that I was at the table, they would reveal things they didn’t want me to hear. I was really good at that growing up. I had overheard more things at dinners my father hosted than I’m sure anyone wanted me to hear. I was good at listening and observing. I could blend into the tablecloth like the best of spies.

“I’m going to head back tomorrow for a quick check in and to conduct some other business.” Matthew’s eyes darted toward me and then back toward his meal. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Kenneth is running just as tight of a ship as you do.”

Tennessee huffed. “I doubt that.”

“I’ll return a quickly as I can. I already told Aria that if she needs anything, to make me a list. I hope you will as well. Especially if there are any grocery items you need. I had the refrigerator stocked in the kitchen as well as one in the garage but there may be something special you want or need.”

“Is that sexy pilot who flew me up here coming back to get you?” Tennessee asked. “That was something special I want and need.” Tennessee laughed at his own joke, but neither Matthew nor I did. Tough crowd for the boisterous man.

“No. I’m going to use my own helicopter and fly myself.” Matthew glanced at me. “I have a landing pad to get here and leave. I fly it to Aspen to then charter a jet. Easier than that road.”

“I saw,” I said with a mouth full of potato. My anger was growing with every chew. Were these assholes forgetting the fact that I was a victim? Kidnapped? They were sitting, eating, and discussing helicopters like nothing of any huge magnitude happened.

Who’s the girl at the dinner table?

Oh, don’t mind her. She’s just a little souvenir I picked up while at a party hosted by a crime boss. No biggie.

Rich, pretentious fuck.

“Shame, shame,” Tennessee said as he cut into his meat. “That chopper man was so pretty.”

I took another bite of my food, my sour mood not improving even with the growing full belly. Every single moment we sat around the table pretending as if this was completely normal, made my annoyance grow to an epic proportion.

“And our guest? How long will she be here?” Tennessee asked.

I slammed down my fork, glaring up at him. “I’m not a fucking guest. Didn’t this fucker fill you in? I’m here against my will? Just because we’re sitting around the family dinner table eating like everything is normal, doesn’t change that fact. I’m not a god damn guest!”

Tennessee grabbed his white napkin and began waving back and forth in front of him. “Simmer down now. Simmer down.”

“Aria, eat and calm down,” Matthew said firmly. It sounded like it was almost a warning.

“Or what?” I challenged as I glared at both of them. I grabbed my drink and downed it in one swallow, feeling it burn all the way down my throat. “This is sick you know that?” I pointed at my clothing. “I’m wearing clothes that you bought for me as you planned this kidnapping out to the finest detail. You got my fucking size right! What kind of stalker shit is that?” I pointed to Tennessee. “You brought him here for what? To guard me? To make sure I don’t run away? How long were you planning this? What exactly else are you planning, you sick fuck?”

“Aria…” Oh yes, he was warning now. But fuck him.

“Now, little missy,” Tennessee tried to cut in, but I wanted nothing to do with this man either.

“Go fuck yourself and your southern twang.” I stood up and pushed the chair from the table. Slamming my hands on the surface made all the dishes rattle and though I wasn’t one for dramatics, I was proud of the show I was putting on.

Fuck them both.

“You have until the count of three to sit down,” Matthew said calmly.

I leaned toward him and stared directly into his eyes, inches from his face. “Or what?” I challenged. “You need to keep me alive if you plan to ransom me.”

Matthew smiled as he took a sip of his drink, washing down the bite he just calmly took. “Oh, trust me, princess. I won’t kill you in retaliation of poor behavior.” He took another bite of food and swallowed. “One.”

I stole a look at Tennessee who had a look on his face that practically said I should do exactly what Matthew says and sit down before he reaches the number three.

“Two.”

“You can’t do this to me. You both can’t keep me locked in this house in the middle of nowhere. Don’t you see that?” I looked at Tennessee with pleading eyes. “Surely, you can see how absolutely insane this is?”

Tennessee pointed at my plate of food. “I advise you to sit down and eat my mama’s roast.”

Reasoning with either one of these men was absolutely pointless.

“Three,” Matthew said as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin and then stood up to face me.

I should run. I should most definitely fucking run.

But Matthew took hold of my arm and flung me over his shoulder before I could even process what was being done to me. I couldn’t even release a squeal of protest before he was charging up the stairs with my body dangling like a rag doll over his broad shoulders. He took the stairs two at a time and everything passed me by so fast.

“Put me down!” I screamed as I tried to wiggle myself off his body to no avail. Matthew only held me to him firmer as we quickly approached the landing at the top of the stairs.

I pounded my fists into his lower back and his sides, and Matthews reaction was as if I was just an annoying gnat doing nothing but bug him

The door to what I assumed was his room opened, and I was flung onto the mattress of his large king size, four post bed. Matthew was slightly out of breath, but I was far worse. I expected to see rage in his eyes, but none was present. He eyes were dark but calm, even though his actions were anything but.

“I will not tolerate behavior like that. You were disrespectful to both me and Tennessee. If you act like a spoiled little mafia brat, then I’ll treat you like one.”

Chapter Twelve

Aria

As soon as I tried to get off the bed, Matthew reached out and surprised me by grabbing a hold of one wrist, and then the other. And then using the leverage created by pulling on them, he managed to get me onto my stomach in the middle of the bed while maneuvering himself behind me in record time. Before I had a chance to realize what he was doing and try to prevent it, he had my arms lashed together then secured to the top of the bed with one of his expensive silk ties he had quickly pulled from the top drawer of the dresser right beside the bed. Then he stood at the end of the bed and pulled first one ankle away from its pair then the other, separating and binding each of them to a corner with another tie, so that I was held fast to the bed.

“Let me go!” I tried to kick and pull to no avail. He effortlessly tied me to his bed, and I knew that struggling more would only make the knots in the ties even tighter. So, I remained still to try to preserve some dignity if that was even possible.

“I can’t for the life of me understand why you refuse to follow orders,” he boomed as he walked to the side of the bed so he could look at me as he spoke. “Has no one taught you to obey a man?”

I huffed. Obey a man? Was that something that even happened anymore in this day in age? “Hardly.”

He glared at me, licking his lips as if all he wanted to do was taste my pussy. “Hardly what?”

“I don’t know who you think you are. I can do and say whatever the hell I want. No man will ever have the power to say otherwise no matter how rich and powerful you think you are. And just because I follow my father’s rule, does not mean I will follow yours.”

Matthew paused, seemingly taking it all in. “Well, that is a shame. Your lack of knowing what true submission can do to your body, shows your inexperience and just how much of a mafia brat you truly are. You have no idea what pleasure can come from letting go. Release leads to an animalist lust and desire unlike anything you could only fantasize about. Would you prefer a weak man? Would you prefer to be the one who holds all the power? Spoiled rich girl who goes running to Daddy Dearest whenever someone tells her something she doesn’t like. Do you want a man who is just afraid of you as he is your father?”

I remained motionless, clearly thinking about his question. Very slowly I shook my head. “No, I don’t want that. I much prefer a man to act like a… man. Dominant, strong, protective. But not a god damn monster like you.” I wanted to look away as my face heated but remained steadfast to show confidence and strength. “I sure as fuck don’t want you.”

“Well then, princess,” he growled, “I won’t ask for your submission. I will simply demand it. You’re about to see how I’ll handle you when you break my rules or direction. The next time you ask the question “or else?”, you will know exactly how to answer it for yourself.” He reached under my belly and found the button and zipper to my pants and freed me from their hold. He then yanked down my pants and panties to my lower thigh, completely baring my behind. Fear.

Yes, fear.

I didn’t want to be spanked. Or maybe I did?

Maybe that was what I was the most afraid about.

My desires scared me. Terrified me.

The tingle in my core that only grew with each second stole my breath. Arching up violently as best I could and generally trying to work myself free, my heart beat so loud, I was sure he could hear it.

And then, as he stood there staring down at my bare behind, he unbuckled his belt, and my efforts at escaping redoubled before his eyes. Not that it did me one bit of good. I was there, and that was where he wanted me to be, and where he was going to keep me until he thought that I had learned my lesson.

“Have you never been punished before me? Never had your ass licked by leather?”

I shook my head. “Never,” I panted. “You can’t do this, you—”

“What’s stopping me, Aria?”

“I’ll be good. I’ll listen,” I replied in a tone sounding very much like pleading.

He chuckled. “No, you won’t. Even after I belt you tonight, I have no doubt I’ll have to do it again and again. You’re stubborn, and that is fine by me. I’ll dance this dance with you gladly.”

As he brought the wide leather strap down across my cringing ass for the first time, and the heavy thwack as well as my resultant bellow of agony I screamed resounded within the small room, he began to speak, ignoring both of the other sounds. “I don’t like to do this, Aria. I would much prefer if you had done as you were told and kept your mouth shut when both Tennessee and I warned you. Instead of yelling and moaning because you’re getting your firm ass belted, we could be downstairs enjoying the cobbler dessert that I know Tennessee made us. But you’re a stubborn woman, and I am a man that sets the rules. No one disobeys me. No one goes against my word. I demand respect and I have different ways than some of making sure it happens.” The belt came crashing down upon my flesh at a rapid speed, and I could barely comprehend his lecture. “I am responsible for you, and I intend to keep you safe until I hand you over to your father. I have expectations and rules that will be followed no matter what. Respect. I demand it. Even if that means that I have to tan your hide every hour on the hour to help you remember that I mean you to do exactly what I say.”

The belt had risen and fallen more times than I could count. How many stripes he gave me was of absolutely no meaning to him. He didn’t seem to be even close to letting up on his wicked discipline.

I was in agony from the time that length first seared my flesh until the last. The belt was wide enough, and my backside was small enough that, even as he marched it up and down my bare butt and the backs of my thighs, every single livid, vivid stripe overlapped with at least one other—sometimes two or three, especially near the end, when it seemed that he had not only increased the strength of the lashes, but also the frequency. It was as if he was trying to drive me towards something. He wasn’t wavering in his resolve and didn’t relent in the least.

Finally, I collapsed onto the bed and was no longer fighting him, or myself, or even the belt itself. Although I would have done anything to have him stop there, he didn’t. Instead, he gave me ten more, delivered very slowly and deliberately, and they were the worst I had yet experienced, each one eliciting a full, howling scream of its own, until on the fifth one, my voice broke and I could barely whisper the depths of my misery. Not that I didn’t give it a good try every time that leather seared my flesh again.

When he was done, he literally threw the belt away from him, opened his bedside table drawer and took something out of it, and got on the bed between my legs, leaving me bound as he lay atop me. For the second time, he didn’t take the time to climb out of his pants, but simply rearranged things to release himself, his rampant erection springing from its confinement and swelling to even more enormous proportions.

I could feel the heat he had created upon my backside as he lay over me. Moving his pants out of the way, donning the condom he had some forethought to grab, he then used his fingers to guide himself to my entrance, finding me wet with arousal. How could my body betray me in such a way?

The pain. The hurt. The humiliation and shame of being whipped by a man’s belt…

It all struck a match inside me that burned for more.

As he very slowly pressed his cock inside me, he reached up beneath me, and beneath my sweater to capture a breast in each hand, locating each nipple and pinching and rolling it as he claimed me to the hilt, seating himself within me fully, all at once, then rocking a bit experimentally, to make sure he was truly surrounded by every bit of me that he could get, and he was. There was nowhere else for him to go but out of me and back in, which was what my body was demanding.

I moaned as he’d joined our bodies together. I couldn’t really tell whether my moans were from pleasure or pain. The two sensations blurred to a point where it didn’t matter. It hurt so good. The pain from the lashing, as well as from the biting sting of his dick spreading me wide, morphed to the most delicious feeling of euphoria.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he thrust deeper inside of me.

“Yes. But…” I cried out as his balls slapped against my pussy. “I want more of it.”

“Good. Because I like hurting you. I plan to hurt you over and over again. Cry my name, princess. I want to hear you cry my name.”

At first, when the belt had finally stopped its rise and fall, I had barely moved, lying there trying to come to grips with what he’d done to me, trying to wrap my head around how much pain I was in, yet how aroused at the same time. So, when he climbed onto the bed between my legs and began to fondle me, rooting around rudely between my legs as if he had every right, I all but begged for more in delight.

I had clearly lost my mind. Even as I cried out in pain—and Jesus fucking Christ did it hurt—I still wanted more. I never once begged him to stop because I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want him to go easy. I really wanted a true whipping. The feel of submission, surrender, and allowing Matthew to dominate was by far the most powerful and erotic feeling I had ever experienced. And even now, as I recovered from his discipline, my body hungered for more as I was bound and helpless and being fucked, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it but allow every wicked sensation to overcome me.

It felt much, much better than I wanted it to, almost but not quite enough to overpower the way my flesh continued to throb and sear, like a burn did after the fact. The pain continued to mount, even though the punishment was over, probably because of the way his movements against me caused the fabric of his pants to rub over my brutally sensitized flesh.

But still, to my deep shame, it wasn’t enough to override the pure, unadulterated pleasure of his possession. I could feel it not only in my pussy, but also in my breasts and nipples, and my scalp and my toes, which were curling unconsciously until I forced them to straighten out. Every little bit of me felt every excruciating centimeter of him as he sank himself into me. Not quickly, not as if this was something he needed or wanted to get over with, but with humiliating deliberation, as if he was savoring it as much as my body wanted to.

And that was before he reached down to claim a nipple in each hand, teasing and pinching it, rolling it tight between those big fingers of his, adding insult to injury and ratcheting up my level of desire to the point where I thought I was going to come right then and there.

“Cry out my name,” he ordered.

And when he touched bottom, fully balls deep, when I had no more of myself to give him, I did exactly as he commanded.

I felt so full of him that it was almost unbearable—stretched and firmly packed and… possessed.

Truly possessed, in a way I hadn’t felt even last night when he’d taken me. I wanted to move.

But… to my complete humiliation, not to get away from him, not to escape this degrading thing that he was doing to me—but to lift my hips up to him. To offer myself to him, to give myself up to him completely, even though there was really nothing left for him to take.

I had already been taken.

Already been used.

Already owned.

A revenge fuck again and again.

As I tried to deal with my own body’s betrayal, to my horror his mouth found its way to my ear as he breathed into it in a voice that was almost as hoarse as mine was. “I’m going to make you come as I fuck you, Aria. I’m going to make you come hard.”

My mind rebelled at that idea—not after a punishment—but was overridden by my body. Yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come. Please, make me come.

His right hand released its possessive hold on my breast to move downward. I felt him lift himself a bit away from me and had to ruthlessly suppress a cry of loss that would have given me away. He touched the top of my pussy and below where his fingertip sought and found a clit that was wholly, fully engorged, just like his cock within me.

I was more than wet enough to provide him with the lubrication he needed to do exactly what he wanted to with me. Those broad fingers immediately began to rub themselves over my folds as I felt him draw his hips back to plunge himself back inside me with a force that nearly had me squealing in both delight and pain.

He kept up a rhythm for the longest time, as if the two of us were competing to see how long we could hold out against each other and our orgasms. And he played dirty—varying the strength with which he fucked me, and the ways in which he tormented my clit, to say nothing of how he pulled and twisted and crushed my nipple, then soothed it for long moments only to repeat the cycle.

Agony.

Delightful agony.

And when he finally settled into fucking me even harder, driving himself into me relentlessly while his hands continued to torture and tease me, I was the one who broke first, ruining my voice even further as I tried to scream it out while my body contracted helplessly—ecstatically—around him.

And he didn’t stop then, didn’t let me go or let me relax, but hurled me into my next orgasm without a break, and then my third, and after a longer while my fourth.

Finally… fucking finally… he lost control of himself and grabbed my hips to pull them as close up against him as he could, losing himself within me over and over as he released his completion.

I fucking hated it.

But I loved it.

I fucking hated him.

But I needed him.

I wanted this all to stop.

But I wanted it again, and again, and again…

Chapter Thirteen

Aria

I woke up in Matthew’s bed alone. The sound of a helicopter taking off was all I needed to hear to know he had left the house. Left me.

I don’t know if his intent was for us to sleep together since he had given me my own room, but after having sex, he had pulled me into his body and we both collapsed into a heavy sleep. The trip, the emotions, the sexual activity all had taken its toll.

Getting out of bed, surprised I still wore my sweater even though my bottom half was bare, I searched the floor until I found my pants, giving up on finding my panties. I wanted to get out of his room as quickly as I could and back to the respectable walls of my own. I literally just slept with my captor as if we were two normal lovers, and the shame of that fact was far worse than any of the dirty acts I had done with this man in such a short time.

Sneaking out of his room, hoping desperately that Tennessee wouldn’t catch me, I tiptoed toward my bedroom.

“Good, you’re up,” Tennessee called from downstairs, freezing me in my tracks. “I have breakfast almost ready. Get ready and come on down.”

How in the world he heard me, I had no idea, but my stomach growling ordered me to listen to the man. That, and the last thing I needed was his wrath after just receiving Matthew’s.

“I’ll be right down,” I called back.

I quickly cleaned up and put on fresh clothes. I did my best to ignore that my ass was tender, and my pussy felt a bit raw from all the attention in the past two days it wasn’t used to. I wasn’t really a bacon and eggs type of person, but the smells greeting me as I walked down the stairs was about to change all of that.

“How do you like your coffee?” Tennessee asked as I entered the kitchen.

“Black is fine,” I said, grateful for the sense of normalcy after the last couple of days.

He handed me a large mug of coffee and returned to flipping his bacon. “Matthew headed back to New Orleans this morning?”

“New Orleans? Why?”

“That’s where Spiked Roses is and his business partners.”

“What’s Spiked Roses?” I asked.

“A member’s only men’s club for the wealthiest fucks in the world. Matthew and six other men own it. I run it when I’m not whisked away to care for a beautiful mafia princess.” Tennessee looked at me and winked.

I sipped my coffee as I tried to steady my rising nerves that seemed to always happen when it came to Matthew—even speaking about Matthew. “Did he say when he would return?” New Orleans was pretty far away, even with a helicopter and a private jet.

“A few days.”

“And what are we supposed to do here?”

Tennessee shrugged as he plated the bacon and then reached into the oven to pull out a plate of eggs that were kept in there to stay warm. “Hell if I know. I’m not used to this vacationing in a mountain cabin gig.” He walked over to the table and sat down, motioning for me to join him. “I guess we play Scrabble and shit.”

Scrabble and shit? Was he serious?

“Did Matthew tell you why I’m here? How I got here?” I asked, realizing that Tennessee may be innocent in all this and truly have no idea.

Tennessee reached across the table and dished some eggs and then bacon onto my plate. “He did. And though I’m not one to condone kidnapping, I trust the man. I also trust that this will all work out in the end.”

“For who?” I tried to keep my voice and tone calm. Maybe I could reason with this man to get us out of here while Matthew was away.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Tennessee said. “Unless you want to count that ass whoopin’ you got last night. But I feel you had that coming. You could have prevented that, sugar plum.”

I scowled at the man sitting across from me, and I would have told him to go fuck himself, but I had a mouthful of eggs and I was a lady. If Tennessee heard the spanking, then no doubt he heard the sounds of pleasure that also came from Matthew’s room. I could have been embarrassed, and in any normal situation I would have been. Mortified, in fact. But for some reason, I felt anything but. It wasn’t like this man could judge me for what I did when he was an accomplice to kidnapping.

“It could be a hell of a lot worse, and we could be in a lot of worse places.” He pointed to the softly falling snow outside. “I’m going to appreciate the break from the sweaty and sticky heat of New Orleans.” He looked back at me. “Have you ever been there?”

“Yes. A few times. My father conducts business at the ports on occasion.”

“So, you help run your father’s business?” Tennessee seemed surprised by that incorrect assumption.

“No. He just likes me to travel with him wherever he goes. He feels it’s safer that way.” I huffed. “And yet, here I am. So, his little plan didn’t exactly work.”

“Matthew said your father is a crime boss.”

I nodded. “And he’s planning on the demise of Matthew Price as we speak.”

“Matthew is a powerful man himself. And your father pissed him the fuck off.”

“What exactly did my father do?”

“He stole a huge shipment of paintings with hidden diamonds stashed in the back. They belonged to Matthew. And knowing Matthew, it’s not just about the money lost, it’s about the hit on his pride.”

“Yeah, well kidnapping Vittorio’s daughter isn’t going to go over well. My father has just as much pride.”

“A good ol’ battle of wills may take place. But my bet is on Matthew coming out of this the victor.”

“And my bet is on my father,” I said. “And it’s not just because I’m his daughter. I know how ruthless that man is more than anyone else. He won’t just lose what he feels is now his. Regardless of how he got the property.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope he comes to reason. It would be a shame to see something happen to you all because of your pops being an asshole.”

“He’s more than an asshole,” I mumbled as I shoveled more eggs into my mouth to shut me up.

“Aww, I feel the love.”

Love? What exactly does that mean?

“What about your mother? Any siblings?” he asked.

“It’s just me and my father. And the several yes men in suits he keeps around us at all times.”

“I grew up in a small family too. Just me and a sister for the most part. My mama died young and my daddy was a drunk piece of shit.”

“My mother died young too,” I said, realizing I rarely spoke of her and didn’t feel like doing so now.

Tennessee stood up and began cleaning up the plates. “Did you get enough to eat?” he asked.

I nodded.

“So, I hear your dad is one kinky fuck,” Tennessee said.

“I suppose so.”

“No shame in that. I make a living because of kinky fucks.”

I looked at him with my interest piqued. “I thought you said you ran Spiked Roses.”

“Yeah and that club hosts the raunchiest and dirtiest parties—which we call Tastings—you can imagine. But I’ve heard of your daddy’s pet parties. Is that where Matthew found you? Were you a naughty kitty?” Tennessee laughed, and I could bet money that he assumed I had nothing to do with the parties and he was just teasing me.

“I hate Scrabble,” I announced out of nowhere, wanting to change the subject. I was sick of talking about and thinking about my father. And I most certainly didn’t want to talk about how I met Matthew. It only made the memories of what I did with the man that night come rushing in.

“But have you tried drunk Scrabble?” Tennessee asked with a charming smile. “Anything can be fun with a gin & tonic in your hand and sitting by the fire. I think we can make the best out of this day. Trust me.”

“Says the man who’s holding me here hostage.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms against my chest. As much as I wanted to dislike Tennessee, I really didn’t.

“Matthew gave a long list of rules—which isn’t surprising at all to me. His rules even had consequences listed next to them. And believe me, honey, you do not want to break his rules. Your poor hiney can’t take it. That man is by far the strictest and harshest task master I know. But nowhere on that list did it say we couldn’t drink all his booze.” Tennessee looked at the clock on the wall. “And in New Orleans, drinking and partying starts at all hours. So, I say we just have a little fun. It’s cold outside! Let’s heat our bellies.”

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Well I am, and I’m a good teacher. And besides,” he said, “we’re on vacation.”

* * *

Matthew

“It’s about time you got back here,” Harley Crow said as I walked into the conference room of Spiked Roses.

“Vittorio Costa knows it’s you who took his daughter,” Kenneth said as I took my seat at the table.

“Good. And?” I asked.

“He’s willing to play ball. He wants this handled fast and as quietly as he can. He’s trying to save face,” Lennon said. “The last thing he wants is to show any weakness to the other mafia families, and this sure as hell does that.”

“He’s asked for proof of life,” Harley said.

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out Aria’s panties from last night and tossed them onto the table. “Give him these.”

Lennon laughed as did the rest of the men even though you could see that they tried not to. “You are a sick fuck.”

“A dead fuck if you aren’t careful,” Harley warned.

“But Vittorio is going to need a couple of days. He had already unloaded some of the product which makes things a little more complicated for him,” Kenneth added.

“Fine by me,” I said. “Tell Vittorio that I brought plenty of panties for his daughter to get wet by my touch.”

Chapter Fourteen

Aria

It had been three days since arriving, and the walls were beginning to close in on me. It had been snowing every single day, and there was no amount of Scrabble that could pass the time away enough. Tennessee and I had played every single board game in the house, cards, and ate more food in the three days than I normally eat in a month. Without a television or a computer, we were completely isolated and reliant on only ourselves for company. It wasn’t exactly awful, but it also wasn’t exactly great either. It didn’t help that each day that passed, I was getting sicker. I could feel a cold coming in, and regardless of the teas and weird concoctions Tennessee had me drink, I couldn’t fight it off.

“Child! It looks like death just walked into my kitchen.” Tennessee rushed over to me with a towel in his hand as I entered the room. Not even pausing, he directed me to a wooden chair pressed against the center island in the middle of the room and forced me to sit, the wracking expulsions continuing the entire time.

I sat and coughed repeatedly into my hand, feeling as if my spine would break through the skin on my back with the powerful force. The loud bark that escaped from the depths of my core reverberated off the hanging pots and pans in the room. At this moment, my small-framed body could give a fancy opera singer a run for her money when it came to the sheer magnitude of sound.

He looked at me with a stern expression but sympathy in his eyes. “You did this to yourself by arriving here in nothing but a robe and barefoot in the fucking snow and cold. Now look at ya.”

Still coughing, I nodded in agreement not having the energy to blame Matthew for that fact.

“I just need to release all the pressure in my lungs.” I coughed again, feeling as if my lungs were trying to break free from my sickly body. “I’ll be fine with some cough medicine or something. But I couldn’t find any.”

Tennessee walked to the large pot on the stove that was near boiling over to give it a good stir. “I’ll try to hunt some down. I’m sure there’s got to be something.” He turned and looked at me with a worried expression, but then refocused on his dinner. “All right then, you sit there for a spell and get your breath back. When you can, I’ll get you working on peeling the potatoes to help a guy out.”

Even though I felt much better sitting down, my chest hurt, my throat burned, and I felt dizzy from lack of air. But I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it either. “Okay,” I wheezed.

Tennessee went about his business seasoning, stirring, chopping and creating his culinary masterpieces like always. His hums soon turned into a song that made me smile regardless of how shitty I felt. This man had a way of always entertaining me with his southern, hillbilly charm.

Old Daniel Tucker wuz a mighty man,

He washed his face in a fryin’ pan;

Combed his head wid a wagon wheel

And he died wid de toofache in his heel.

So, git outa de way for old Dan Tucker,

He’s come too late to git his supper.

Supper’s over and breakfast cookin’,

Old Dan Tucker standin’ lookin’.

Here’s old Dan, he comes to town;

He swings the ladies round and round.

He swings one east, he swings one west,

He swings with the one he loves the best.

He sang the entire time, ignoring the fact that his twangy melodies were occasionally interrupted by my hack. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop. My entire body ached at this point, and I actually wondered if I would suffocate from my coughs. One after another, over and over again, grating cough after cough. The rare moments not coughing were spent gasping for air, only to start the vicious cycle all over again.

Tennessee didn’t stop his dinner preparations, but he did glance over his shoulder with a look of worry quickly washing over his face. “Girl… if you get me sick…”

“I hope this is nothing.”

Tennessee nodded. “Well…” Wiping his hands on his apron, he turned and faced me. “I have dinner under control. I want you to go lie down. You’re about as white as the snow outside, and I sure as fuck don’t want you spreading whatever plague you have all over the kitchen.”

Panic sunk in, as well as a renewed feeling of cabin fever, and I did everything I could to hold back the next spell of coughs. Spending time with Tennessee was the only thing that had kept me sane the past few days. Being locked away in my bedroom would damn near drive me crazy. I needed human contact. “I’m going crazy in this house. I don’t want to go to bed and do nothing. All I’ve done is nothing.” Tears welled in my eyes. “Please, I won’t cough anymore. Put me to work. I need to feel useful.”

Tennessee walked over and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be good as new with a little rest.”

“But I just have a cough. It’s nothing and—”

“Matthew will skin me alive if he returns from New Orleans and you’re sicker than a dog. He’ll think I can’t take care of you in his absence. And I sure as fuck am not going to piss off that man. You’ve met him. No fucking way.” He smiled as he shook his head. “You’re sick, Aria. Lordy knows what ails you, but I do know that with proper rest, you will get better. At the very least, I can tell Matthew that I have been taking care of your sick ass by making you sleep.”

I knew Tennessee was right. Matthew would be pissed to return to the house to find me sick, and he would be even angrier to find out that nothing was done about it. I knew I couldn’t win this argument and started to cry out of frustration. I was trapped. I was alone. I was now sick. I was being a whiny brat and I knew it. I just wanted things to be normal and to have some damn chicken soup.

“Now don’t you go and start crying in my kitchen,” Tennessee chastised. “You know you need rest. That cough ain’t going to go away by itself.” He reached for my arm and helped me stand. “Now get to bed before I beat that ass of yours.”

I swiped at my eyes feeling stupid for getting emotional and sniffled. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass. I know you’re just doing your job. And I really hope you don’t get whatever this is. I feel like shit.”

Tennessee gave me a soft pat on the butt and started ushering me out the kitchen door. “If you cause me to burn my gravy, I’ll make sure you have to lie in bed on your belly for the next week because your tail will be so sore. You think Matthew is the strict disciplinarian… you haven’t met a southern chef with burnt gravy.” He gave a small smirk before turning to attend to his meal preparation.

I walked out of the kitchen feeling more pathetic than ever. I couldn’t even do something as simple as peeling potatoes. The thought of going back to my room alone depressed me. I just couldn’t spend another minute staring at the four walls. Allowing my stubbornness—mixed with an ounce of foolishness—to take over, I headed to the living room.

Those four walls were no different than my bedroom walls.

I felt like everything was closing in on me.

I never thought I would admit it, but I missed Matthew. I was bored out of my mind, and although Matthew was my captor… he would at least be fresh energy and another face. Memories of the days before he left alone had my body tingling with want. He didn’t give an exact date of his return, but Tennessee had said it would be soon.

The walls…

The silence…

I needed some fresh air. Cough or not, I needed to feel as if I wasn’t trapped in a cage. A quick step outside wouldn’t kill me. It wasn’t snowing, and compared to the other days of late, today actually was much warmer. The sun would be setting soon, and it would be nice to actually feel its rays on my skin for even a minute or so.

Looking over my shoulder toward the kitchen, I knew that Tennessee was busy with his gravy and wouldn’t come looking for me. Matthew was gone. So, what harm was there in doing what I wanted? In doing what I needed?

Fuck. When had I become so paranoid of getting in trouble? Matthew and his infuriating dominance had me walking on eggshells now. I was a grown woman. I could go outside. Yes… I could go outside damnit.

I snuck out the front door and was extra careful to close it as quietly as I could. I felt like a teenager sneaking out of the house. A cough burned in the back of my throat, but I managed to hold it down. I didn’t want Tennessee to hear me and come running. In all honestly, I didn’t fear Tennessee like I did Matthew. But his disappointment in me would be worse than the wrath of Matthew.

Once I was outside, I allowed the cough to break loose, but didn’t allow it to stop my enjoyment of feeling the brisk air against my face. I walked over to a rocking chair on the porch and sat down to take in the view. Back and forth I rocked, closing my eyes as I listened to the birds chirp in the distance.

I must have fallen asleep, because I was awaking to a tapping on the large glass window by the door.

I turned my head with sleepy eyes toward the sound and saw Matthew standing there in a suit and tie. His eyes were dark, his jaw firmed. He mouthed the words, “You are in trouble,” and opened the door.

He had arrived home. I must have been in such a deep sleep, that I didn’t hear the helicopter land. Damn cold…

Oddly, I had a mixture of emotions seeing him. I was happy that he was finally back. Why?

My stomach also flipped at the way he looked at me and the silent warning he had issued.

For a minute I considered flipping him off, but I also didn’t want to test the man. The memory of the night before he left was still in my mind—hell, it hadn’t left my mind the entire time he was gone.

Walking up to me and taking me firmly by the arm, Matthew said, “Come with me now.”

There was no question, no suggestion, no choice. I knew that any resistance would only make it worse. Silently, I allowed him to lead me upstairs to my room. When we reached my door, he stopped and studied me for a moment.

There was a part of me that wanted to smile and hug him, but I resisted the urge. I had to blame cabin fever for my insane thoughts. Yes… cabin fever.

“Tennessee said you were upstairs sicker than a dog. How are you feeling?” The look of concern replaced the earlier anger on his face.

“I’m fine. I have a cough, but I don’t feel sick at all.” I hoped that my reassurance would make him realize that there was no need to be angry or overly concerned.

“What did Tennessee tell you?” he asked.

“He made me leave the kitchen. He told me to get some…” I watched the expression on his face go from concern to disciplinarian mode. I had seen this face all too many times in our short time together.

“Tennessee told you what?” He crossed his arms against his chest.

Fuck.

I gulped. “To go to my room and get some rest.”

Matthew reached across me and opened the door to my bedroom, guiding me inside with him following. “So, let me get this right. Tennessee told you to go upstairs and get some rest. You decide to go against what he said and go outside and sit in the cold instead? To go sleep outside. Is that all correct?”

“I only have a cough, and it wasn’t cold outside. It was nice. I’m not really sick sick.”

Matthew touched my forehead feeling for a fever which I already knew I didn’t have. Other than my chest hurting like hell, I physically felt fine.

“I’m happy to hear that.” He pointed to my bed. “Bend over the bed. Bare your behind.” His expression, his tone, his entire presence meant business. He was the disciplinarian sent to do a job. I’d known that the minute he led me upstairs.

His rules. I knew by now what they were.

Structure. Consequences. Order.

“Matthew, please. I’ll crawl in bed like a good girl. You don’t need to punish me.” It really was pointless trying to plead with him. I knew by now that when Matthew had his mind set on something, no amount of pleading or arguing would get me out of this predicament.

“You should have done that before.” When I didn’t move, he nodded toward the bed. “Come on, Aria. You know you did this to yourself. Unless you want me to have Tennessee come up here and do it himself. You broke his order, not mine.”

Tennessee seeing my bare ass and disciplining me would have been worse than Matthew… and I knew Matthew would do it too if I put up a fight. At least with Matthew, we had already done this dance. I knew what to expect.

Silently admitting defeat, I sighed and walked toward the bed. Staring at my mountain-themed quilt, I did as he asked, feeling the cool air against my bottom as I lifted my floor-length dress, lowered my panties, and bent over the bed. My face heated with embarrassment. Matthew had punished me before several times, and he had definitely seen my bare behind, but I still couldn’t help but to feel the shame of having to be spanked like a naughty school child.

I cringed when I heard the swoosh of the leather belt being removed from his pants. Matthew wasn’t one to go easy with that damn belt of his. When he decided to deliver a punishment, it was always worse than what I prepared myself for.

“Before I belt your ass, I want to make sure you understand why I am giving you this discipline. Do you?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled against my mattress. I threw in the ‘sir’ hoping that my extra show of respect would make him go easy on me or maybe even change his mind. “I was given strict instructions from Tennessee, and I didn’t follow them. I’m sick and falling asleep outside probably wasn’t the smartest move on my part.”

But this was truly insane. Why did a spanking with his belt have to be the consequence? I was a grown woman, and this was a man who kidnapped me. Did he really have the audacity to lecture me on right from wrong? But just as I was going to argue and fight back, I had to admit that little bolts of arousal crept through my belly and around my pussy while preparing myself and awaiting his dominance. Did I want this? I sure as hell didn’t not want this. It seemed so normal in the most twisted and fucked up ways.

The first lash of the leather cracked against my flesh without mercy. I bit down against the pain and balled the quilt into my fists to fight the urge to cry out. But when the second and then third whip of the leather made contact, I couldn’t hold back from squealing and whimpering in distress.

“Ow! I’m so sorry!” If there was ever a time to start coughing, it would be now. Maybe if I had another coughing spell, he would go lightly on me. But my cough had decided to betray me and remain deep within my chest.

“Stick out your ass,” was his only response.

I did so and was only rewarded with another, and then another whip of the unforgiving belt. The spanking continued on as I cried out. Tears ran down my face as my ass heated to an inferno.

“Naughty girls get spanked. You will soon know this, Aria.”

“Matthew, I can’t take anymore! It hurts!” I cried out, not caring that Tennessee could possibly hear my pleas from the kitchen below.

I lost count after the tenth or so swat, the intensity becoming too much. His intention clearly was to make sure I would feel it the next day. So, once he passed the tenth swat, I knew I was in for it.

After ten more lashes of the leather, Matthew tossed it to the side and began peppering my upturned behind with his wide palm. Over and over he spanked, making sure he covered every inch that the strap had missed.

“Is your ass on fire?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I followed my words with sobs, hoping he would take pity on me, but knowing that Matthew didn’t stop until he felt the punishment would be remembered for quite some time. After tonight, I would ‘remember’ for quite a while.

Over and over, he reddened my cheeks until mercifully the punishment came to an end. Matthew adjusted my panties, lowered the fabric of my dress to cover me, and helped me to a sitting position, even though the last thing I wanted to do was sit on my throbbing ass.

“Now, get in that bed, Aria. If I catch you out of it for the rest of the night, I’ll make sure you can’t sit for a week.”

“Yes, sir.” I sniffed and wiped at my tears.

He bent to kiss my forehead. “I’ll have Tennessee bring you some dinner. Stay in bed until morning,” he warned again. He walked toward the door and then paused, turning around to add, “Tennessee and I worry about you and only have your best interest at heart. We can’t have you getting sicker than you already are. You belong to me right now. Under my protection and watch. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes,” I answered softly.

He pulled me against him with an arm around my waist while his other hand roamed over my back, rubbing gently. Then he tipped my face up to his with a long index finger beneath my chin, his lips kissing away my tears then setting onto mine as if that was exactly where they belonged. Without doing anything else, he stopped the kiss as quickly as it started and walked toward the door.

“I take care of what belongs to me.” His final words were punctuated by opening the bedroom door.

“Wait!” I said.

He turned and looked at me. “You need your rest.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not yet. Right now… right now I want you. I need you.”

Chapter Fifteen

Matthew

Never before had a woman responded with such passion to my touch. Hell, any woman I knew would do whatever it took to avoid my wrath. No woman would be foolish enough to taunt the beast within me. Any right-minded woman knew exactly where that would land her. And yet, there was Aria. There was no denying that although Aria cried out in distress, her pussy became soaked in arousal. Her body revealed she loved the discipline just as much as she hated it. And never before had I craved a woman as much as I did this little vixen. Her moans… her gasps… her cries.

In pursuit of those aims, I cleared the distance between us, took her into my arms, and bent my head down and kissed her. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I wanted to hear her scream my name as she came into her own ecstasy. Even if it was just while we were at this house, just for a short time, I wanted her to be mine. Mine. Because in time, I had already made up my mind that I would return her to her father and never look back. Close this chapter of my life and get back to my cold, emotionless, and lucrative life I lived before. For now, though, I intended to indulge myself… and her.

* * *

Aria

I couldn’t believe the words I had just said and how bold I was being toward this man. I tried to demure, to turn my head away when his lips sought mine, but his hand came up and held my cheek so that I had nowhere to turn. And seconds after he’d begun kissing me, I knew that I didn’t want to turn away from him. Not now. Not ever. I wanted to turn towards him, towards the paradise that I already knew his touch would bring, despite all the warning bells that were already going off in my head. So, I ducked my lips out from under his, knowing that if I didn’t, I’d soon be completely lost.

His fingers brought me right back to where he wanted me, until I caught the tip of his wandering tongue between my teeth in warning.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, princess. That kind of thing will get you flipped right back on your stomach.” He didn’t specify, but his hands went to the thick leather belt at his waist and my eyes had followed their descent.

I released him immediately as if I’d been scalded, reprimanding myself silently for the coward I so obviously was. I should have bitten down then run away from him, stolen his beat-up truck and driven away. But to where? I had no idea where anything was, and it was nighttime again. Sense of direction was not my strong suit. And it was freezing outside, and I… So just like before, I had to push the foolish ideas of escape out of my mind.

Was it better to do that and probably die of exposure or worse in the woods, or to remain here, where I was so obviously going to end up crossing the point of no return with him again, whether I wanted to or not? Not to mention living under the constant threat that he was going to punish me—or whatever else his wicked mind came up with.

While I was debating, he was busy trying to remove my clothes—what little I had. His hand came up the insides of my tightly closed thighs, skittering lightly over my mons to my lower belly. The fabric fell away from me as his big wrist rubbed over bare skin, up over my navel, up the middle of my ribcage to my breastbone, then hung a sharp right and captured a breast whose tip was achingly tight in anticipation of his possession.

I wrestled my mouth out from under his and whispered, “Matthew, no. Part of me wants this, but another part is afraid.” I panted and tried to take a deep calming breath. “Matthew, no. We should stop.”

“I like the sound of my name on your lips, but “no” is not a word I tolerate from many people, none of whom are you. I want to hear you this time. I want you to purr for me and moan. I want to hear your breath hiss through your teeth, and I want to hear you scream my name as you come.”

My body arched of its own accord at his words, and I knew that it was on the opposite side of this argument from my brain, hoping that every single word he said came true a thousand times over. The area between my legs was already swollen and ready for him, yearning for his touch, so much so that I felt I had to cross my legs to soothe myself.

But Matthew planted a hand on the bed between us so that I couldn’t do it. “Ah ah ahhh. No trying to pleasure yourself. That’s for me to do, when I decide to. You are not to touch yourself without my express permission… ever,” he ordered sternly, then softened it by revealing, “unless I intend to watch.”

I could feel my full body blush at his statement. “But,” I breathed, barely able to recognize the deep throatiness of my own voice.

He boldly draped himself atop me, his hips and legs replacing the arm that had held my legs apart, his very broadness forcing them much further open as I tried to accommodate him, adoring the feeling of vulnerability that was inherent in this position. And then he moved downwards, dragging himself over me slowly, until his head was where his hips had been, using his splayed arms to hold legs that would have closed around him open as he let his mouth settle onto my clit.

* * *

Matthew

My boldness was rewarded by a short, sharp scream I hadn’t expected, and renewed efforts to escape me. In my most stern tone, I commanded, “Aria, I want you to lie back and relax. Put your hands above your head and leave them there until I tell you you may put them down again, and stop trying to wiggle away from me. Do I need to spank you again?”

I could feel how she contracted involuntarily at my use of the word “spank”. I didn’t think she even knew she’d done it, but it was a very interesting tidbit about her that I intended to remember. As if that evidence wasn’t enough to tell me that—although she protested just as vehemently as I’d expected while I was punishing her—she had, nonetheless, thoroughly enjoyed it at the same time, when I moved a hand to join my mouth at her nether parts, one finger delving very gently into her pussy as it rained moisture down onto me.

And the deep, tips of her toes groan that she gifted me with as I did that, nearly had me unmanning myself right then and there. It was a close thing; I’d never really been quite that out of control of myself, even as a young man. But that was what she did to me, and I craved more of that kind of a challenge to my control of myself—and her.

“Do you want me, Aria? Truly want me? Not just fucking, but truly want me to be inside you and claiming you as mine?”

* * *

Aria

I nodded. “Yes, I want that. God help me for saying this, but I do. Take me, Matthew. I want to feel you inside of me,” I begged, giving up any resistance left in my mind—my body had already given up.

I wanted to be relieved of the stinging and shameful pain which coursed through my body, but more than anything else, I wanted to feel his cock buried deep within me. I didn’t want to do what I thought was right. Nothing in my life was about right. Everything was wrong. But when Matthew touched me, it was right. At least for that moment in time.

He stared into my eyes and softly began to speak. He kissed me on the lips and then said, “I didn’t know how badly I needed this until I saw you.”

I could feel the sexually induced power begin to take over. His voice echoed; his face blurred. Alpha force emanated from his body, and a heat burned between our connecting flesh. My eyes rolled back in my head for a moment while the spell of love and a heart-felt passion took over my body. All the pain in the past seemed to melt away with the cadence of his deep tone.

But I needed more.

I could feel his light touch along the surface of my skin. Unable to open my eyes and too weak from intense desire to move, I had no choice but to succumb to the sense of touch alone. The cloak of darkness my eyelids provided heightened every slide and every glide of his strokes. The sound of his zipper lowering and his own clothes being removed, tortured me with the need to see him nude before me.

“Matthew,” I moaned.

He removed the last item of his clothing, baring his body of perfection completely. His cock stood at attention against this rippled abs. Seeing him nude before me for the first time was a breathtaking sight. Only one word to describe his physique… flawless.

His hands moved along the soft mounds of my breasts, gently massaging my fiery skin. It seemed as if he were pulling every doubt and insecurity of what the future had in store from my body. He lowered his mouth to one of my hardened nipples and began to trace his tongue along the tip. I moaned as the inferno grew inside my core. He continued to lick as his hand caressed my pussy. Two fingers trailed down the wet folds before finding my welcoming entrance. He pressed his fingers inside, causing a gasp to escape my lips.

I kept my eyes closed as I tried to concentrate on the sensual feeling of his fingers moving in a rhythmic motion inside my quivering pussy. I moaned with agony, but slowly the moans became ones of pleasure.

Matthew worked his fingers in and out of my pussy while slightly nipping at my breast in his mouth. He moved his lips to my neck, kiss by kiss, lick by lick.

Sucking at my earlobe, he whispered, “Do you want to feel my cock buried deep inside of you? Do you want to feel the orgasm I give you course through every muscle of your body?”

His words were soothing every inch within me as I grew accustomed to the idea of not fighting this man ever again.

I tried to reply but was unable to speak. I could only moan and thrust my hips into his hand which was still deep within my pussy.

Matthew lowered his body down my torso until he pressed his mouth to my awaiting clit. Taking it within his lips, he sucked the remaining dark thoughts from my body. I finally opened my eyes and looked down to find Matthew staring up at me from between my legs.

“Gorgeous.” Matthew sucked on my clit some more, causing me to arch my back in need. “You are by far the most intoxicating woman I have ever encountered. You’re like a damn drug.”

He moved his fingers in and out of my pussy while sensually licking circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Matthew added a third finger to join the others, stretching me to the fullest.

“Fuck… Matthew!”

My impending orgasm built. Stronger than what I could have ever fantasized to come from two people destined to forever be enemies. A wave of ecstasy worked its way through my body, drawing me closer to the crash.

“Your taste, your smell… Aria. You make me weak,” he mumbled between long strokes of his tongue through my drenched pussy.

I began to shake, losing my mind to the delirium of what Matthew was doing to my body. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I screamed as the orgasm rocked every inch of my soul.

Matthew softly kissed his way back up to my neck, savoring each delicious taste along the way. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “I want to feel myself pressing inside of you. I want to feel you wrapped around my cock. God, I want you.”

He rubbed his hardness against the wet lips of my pussy, causing electricity to shoot through my body. He continued to rub sensually up and down, taking pause to circle the tip of his cock along my throbbing clit. Every touch, every movement brought on a wave of ecstasy like nothing I had ever experienced.

“Oh! Please, please fuck me. I need to feel you pressed deep within me. Please,” I begged between moans.

Matthew positioned the head of his penis at my opening and slowly massaged the outer edges. Each teasing movement drove me closer to the impending orgasm waiting to escape my body.

“Come for me first, Aria. I want to hear another orgasm scream from your lips,” he commanded. “I want you to come once more before I take you completely.”

Simply hearing the seductive order from this man was all I needed to allow the release. The smoothness of his cock up against my soft folds only added to each wave after wave of pleasure exploding from my body. I thrust my hips hard against Matthew’s, trying desperately to force his cock inside me. I would do anything at that moment to just feel him deep within my core.

Matthew smiled as he pressed his lips to mine. “Good. Very, very good.”

He positioned his body so he was driving his hard cock into my pulsating pussy before the climax was over. His thrusting continued the frenzy. Driving the orgasm to a new level, Matthew fucked me with a fervor like nothing I could have envisioned—even more so than the times before. My body melded to his. My core clung to his wanton energy. Plunging deeper, his cock stretched me tight, pussy to the maximum.

My sex stung, my body ached, but euphoria conquered all.

Flipping me over onto my stomach in one fluid motion, Matthew pulled my hips up so I was positioned on all fours. His roughened palm pressed between my shoulder blades, causing my upper body to rest against the bed. My ass was now up and angled on full display, as if I were begging to be fucked from behind.

“The most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” Matthew praised.

“Fuck me hard. Fuck me with all the animalistic power you possess!” I commanded. The sexual beast inside was breaking through my body, smothering any submission that remained. I wanted it hard, I wanted it rough, and I wanted Matthew to truly take my body with uncontrolled abandon.

Matthew grabbed my hip with one hand and a handful of hair with the other. He impaled his cock to the base of his balls with a force that made me scream. He pulled my head back as he drove in and out with a carnal need. He released the grip of my hip and spanked my ass. He continued to spank while driving his hardness deep within.

“Never command me. Just because you are now truly mine, and I’m yours, that doesn’t change. I don’t want that to ever change.” Matthew continued the stinging slaps against my reddening behind. I gasped with each reminding blow.

“Nothing has changed in that regard. I still expect your full surrender. Understood?”

I arched my back further. The electricity from the spanking only enhanced the approaching orgasm returning to my body. “Yes. Yes, sir.” I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I craved him as the dominant man he was.

Matthew grabbed both my hips with his hands as he pushed and pulled his cock within my warm depths. His breathing sped up; his moans increased. I screamed as the orgasm rocketed through my body with more force than before. Matthew thrust as deep as possible as he called out my name while spilling his seed inside of me.

Chapter Sixteen

Aria

“You look much better this morning,” Tennessee said as he opened the curtains, allowing the sunlight to shine through.

I squinted against the rays as I slowly sat up. I actually felt much better, and for the first time in a long time had gotten a decent night’s sleep thanks to the miracle elixir Tennessee had given me with dinner. The bitter liquid seemed to soothe my cough for hours at a time. Not to mention the amazing sex with Matthew that left my body drained and humming.

“Although you look as if you danced in the center of a tornado,” Tennessee added with a soft smile.

I tried to comb my fingers through my brown locks to no avail. “I’m in desperate need of a bath.”

Tennessee opened the window to allow some fresh air to enter the stuffy room. “It’s warm outside right now, but a storm is supposed to come tonight.” He glanced over with an unyielding look. “And before you start to argue, you will not be going outside today. If you know what is good for your backside, I suggest you just thank me for letting in some fresh air and leave it be.”

“I won’t go outside again. I promise.”

Tennessee crossed his arms across his chest. “Yeah… I know how well you listened to me last time.” He smiled. “But I’m sure you paid your penance nice and good.” He winked as he went to the pillows I leaned against and started to fluff them. “Matthew cares about you, Aria. As fucked up as this situation is… and it is. No doubt. I have never seen him act the way he does when it comes to you. You should have seen how he fretted last night as you slept and asked me a million questions about our days here.”

I had no response to that.

Cared about me?

But yes… this situation was fucked up. I could agree with that statement.

Just as Tennessee was turning to leave, Matthew walked up behind him. His eyes quickly scanned me, and he smiled when he noticed I was sitting up and in far better condition than I’d been.

“It’s nice to see some color back in that pretty face,” he said while he strode into the room.

I returned the smile. “I feel much better. The medicine seems to really help, and I slept really good after you left.” My face heated as I said the final part and wished I could have taken the words back.

Matthew picked up the bottle and held it to the light so he could see how much still remained. “I’m happy to hear that. Since we know it helps, I’ll pick up several more bottles next time I leave so you can keep them if the coughing continues.” I was grateful that he didn’t bring up the discipline or the sex that followed. Maybe we could just pretend that momentary lapse of complete lust didn’t happen.

“What I really need right now is a bath. May I get out of bed to do that, please? I promise I won’t take long.”

I knew I would get a lot further by asking rather than just hopping out of bed and doing as I pleased.

Maybe Matthew expected me to demand to get out of bed, because he did seem surprised by my request for permission.

“All right. I think you’re healthy enough for a bath. But you have to allow me to assist you. I’m still concerned for your strength. Tennessee said you didn’t hardly eat yesterday when he brought you your meal in bed. I don’t need you falling and breaking a bone right now. And,” he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and a small smirk, “you may have overexerted yourself yesterday when you should have been resting. I don’t want you to push it… again.”

I wanted to say no to his offer, but if I did, then Matthew would demand, and I much preferred his calmer and gentler state of mind right now. I felt better, but I sure as hell didn’t have it in me to have another battle of wills that I was pretty sure I would lose.

I nodded in response and pushed the blankets off of me, dropping my feet to the floor. Matthew quickly placed his hand on my arm to help me stand. “Steady now. Let the blood flow back to your toes.”

Very slowly, I walked across the hall to the bathroom with Matthew never letting go of my arm. He went straight to the tub and began filling it up while I sat on the edge of the bath and watched. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves as to not get wet, revealing his tan skin and his muscled arms. With each move, I noticed how lean his body was. His brown hair hung in a soft wave around his ears with just a hint of gray at his temples. His distinguished look added to a masculinity that fascinated me every time I got to take the time to just watch him. His caring nature made her feel safe and protected. And odd contrast to the fact that I was his captive, but I had never had a man draw me a bath before.

When he was done and had filled the tub, he said, “Go ahead, undress and get in.” He turned his back to give me privacy which made me smile. He already had seen me naked, but his gentlemanly ways right now pleased me.

I quickly shed my clothes and eased into the steaming water, moaning slightly.

“Is the water too hot?” he asked, worried.

“It’s perfect. Simply perfect.” I lowered myself all the way in and closed my eyes, savoring how the heat removed all the aches and pains. The steaming water seemed to strip what remained of the sickness completely out of my body. “Thank you.”

He moved to my head with a bottle of shampoo and began lathering it into my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp. Heaven. Pure Heaven. I thought about stopping him and doing it myself, but just couldn’t bring myself to do so. It felt so good… so good.

As he worked at washing the tangles, he said, “You have really pretty hair.”

My reply was a cough that I had been trying to hold back, but I couldn’t any longer.

“I think after your bath, you should spend the rest of the day in bed. But after today, I think you’ll be fine to move about the house, just as long as you take it easy.”

He rinsed my hair and began washing my back and arms, dipping the rag into the soapy water with each pass. “I saw you have books from downstairs by your bed. Do you like to read?”

I nodded and smiled. “I do. Very much. My mother was an avid reader and she taught me how to fall in love with them before she died. I lose myself in the story. I feel like I disappear and go someplace different. It’s nice.” The memory of my mother made me sad, but I refused to go down that dark road. I’d closed that door to my life, locked it, and thrown away the key.

“I find that not too many people take the time to read books anymore. Everyone is so busy and lost in the now. Maybe we can share our favorite books and discuss them sometime.”

His statement seemed odd. Never had a man suggested spending any time together that didn’t involve sex or… “lost in the now”. The innocence of his comment took me by surprise, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. Luckily, a loud cough answered for me. The cough was powerful enough that it rocked my body hard enough to cause water to splash onto the floor.

Matthew patted my back softly. “Try to take a deep and calming breath. I’m right here.” He kept patting my back until the cough subsided.

“Thank you,” I wheezed.

“We’ll get you some more medicine after your bath.”

I nodded. “It seemed to help.”

He paused in washing me, holding his hand still in the sudsy water. I wondered if he would move his hand lower and turn the innocent bath into something much more. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and walked over to grab a towel. He held it open wide for me to step into but turned his head to not watch as I did so. Again, the chivalrous act of giving me the courtesy of privacy, made me smile. “Let’s get you back in bed before you catch a chill.”

He wrapped the towel snugly around my body as I studied his every move. Even though he was extremely focused on what he did—a level of control at all times, he seemed so warm and friendly. I liked that about him. I liked that he wasn’t at all what I had learned to expect from him. This was a different and welcomed side.

He smiled at me before giving me a playful swat on my bottom. “Come on now. Back to bed.”

When he had me tucked in nice and tight, he turned to leave.

“Matthew? Please don’t leave. I’ve been going stir crazy lately with you gone. I could use some company.” Maybe it was asking too much, but I wasn’t tired, and I didn’t want to simply stare at the ceiling for the remainder of the day and night.

He paused for a moment as if considering the idea. He nodded with a smile and pulled up the wooden chair, so it rested beside my bed and sat down. “All right. I think I can stay for a while. The work I was going to do today can wait.” He reached out for my hand and patted it softly. “You come first.”

Chapter Seventeen

Aria

We remained together for hours. Casually talking about our likes and dislikes, our views on life, what made us become the people we were today, and where we wanted to be in the years to come. I could count on one hand the amount of people I could easily open up to and talk freely with, and now Matthew had somehow become one of those people.

This demon.

This monster.

My kidnapper…

Our narrative morphed in the most twisted of ways.

Enemies to lovers.

Fear to comfort.

Foe to friend.

And even though he was doing me a favor by keeping me company, it seemed as if he too was enjoying the time getting to know the simple things about me. His intelligence challenged me but didn’t overwhelm me either. I had read many of the same books he had, and I was proud that I could have conversations about them with him. I wouldn’t ever call myself dumb—my mother had made sure I wasn’t. It had been a very long time since I’d gotten to show off some of the intelligence I kept tucked away. And it appeared Matthew appreciated it. He seemed to really value my opinion and my insight on every topic we discussed. For the first time in my life, I was connecting with a man intellectually rather than just being considered a rich, spoiled mafia princess. It was new, uncharted, and I liked it a lot.

“So, tell me something more. Deeper. Tell me about shadows in your past.” he said. He didn’t come across as nosey or ready to cast judgment. He genuinely seemed to want to know. Our casual conversation lead us to this point. He wanted to really know more about me than just the surface.

This was the most attention anyone had given me in a very long time, unless you counted drunk Scrabble with Tennessee.

“I guess you could say my shadows are more like my demons. My father being the worst demon of them all.” I took a deep breath. “He killed my mother. He claims it was an enemy that did it. That he did everything he could to protect her, and that he would make the killer pay. My father thinks I was too young to remember and even if I did, he could change the narrative so I would start to believe his words if he said them enough. It wasn’t like I had much of a life to ruin at the time, but he managed to destroy whatever pathetic life I did have on that day.”

Matthew nodded as if he already knew this story. I was pretty sure it was no secret in the world they all lived in. Regardless, I hadn’t ever spoken of my father or mother, but it actually felt right… freeing.

“Was your father cruel to you and your mother always?”

I nodded. “Yes, I think that is pretty fair to say. But my mother told me he wasn’t always that way. She said he was a good man at one time, but his dark life had beaten him down. That jewelry box I took with me when you… when you took me… has a letter of hers. It’s all I have left of her. Inside, is a letter that I didn’t read until after she died.” I looked at Matthew cautiously. “Would you like to read it?”

When he nodded silently, I reached for the small box that was kept under my bed. Opening it, I pulled out a folded paper and handed it to him. Repositioning my body comfortably, back in bed, I said, “Go on and read it.”

He took a moment to study my expression. “Are you sure? You don’t have to let me read this. It’s none of my business, and just because I have you here doesn’t mean—”

“I want you to. I want you to meet my mother.” I smiled widely even though tears were already forming in my eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Matthew, my new friend, gently opened the folded paper.

My dearest Aria,

I want to start this letter off by telling you that Mama loves you. I am so proud of the lovely lady you have become. I love you. I love you more than you can possibly imagine.

I bet you wonder why I speak of love so easily when you have grown up seeing anything but between your father and me. You have seen hate, cruelty and misery from a man we are supposed to love. For that I will forever be sorry to you. You should have never had to grow up with so much heartache, pain, and darkness all around you. I tried to shield you from the pain at first, but even my motherly protection could not save you from your father’s demons. And that is what they are—demons.

He wasn’t always this man you know and most likely hate. I fell in love with a man who although could have moments of darkness, had more good than bad. His heart was cracked, but I thought I had the ability to heal him. I thought I could heal the pain that caused him such internal nightmares. I was wrong. The crack only grew, and the darkness overtook whatever kindness I once saw in your father.

I fell in love with him as a young girl. He was a few years older than me and felt he had to protect me from all the bad in the world. We used to sit for hours and hours talking about our hopes and dreams. He wanted to have a large farm with cows, horses, and rows and rows of wheat for as far as the eye could see. I know this seems crazy considering who he is now, but it’s the truth. He wanted ten children—which I always argued against but would have given him had he remained the person I fell in love with. Your father had a tough life. He grew up in the life of crime, and it chose him whether he wanted it or not. His two older brothers beat him daily. He almost died one summer because a brother of his took a pistol to his head. His father did nothing because he believed it would make him become a stronger man. I was the only one your father had to count on. Everyone in his life showed him hate, but I chose to show him love.

I’m not excusing your father for his violence, only hoping I can explain some of the reason for it. And I want you to know that he changed. I guess there is a part of me that thinks with enough love and patience from you and me… as well as forgiveness, he may change once again. He may someday be the man I once loved. It may not be too late for him to be the father that you deserve. And if that day does not happen in this lifetime, then I am sorry. I am sorry you never got to meet the man that I did.

He was a good man.

But I have no regrets. I loved. I lived. I didn’t hide from my feelings and my beliefs. And I did love your father. I still do. I allowed my heart to go to him freely, and because of that, I got you. You are my one true love, and I would suffer whatever consequences God has in store in order to get the treasure I have in you. Being a mother is the greatest gift and achievement anyone could receive. There is a love for your kin stronger than words can explain. I would die for you. I would give my very last breath just so you can be happy. I love you so very much.

I worry that because you have grown to see such venom, you will never allow your beautiful heart to love. Or that you will feel you deserve the same sort of man as your father. Or worse yet, that you won’t believe that love can exist. It can, my little Aria. It can. There will be a man who will love you for everything that makes you you. There will be a man who can lead, who can protect, who can offer you his entire heart. There will be a man who can give you a child, or children, so you can experience the joy I have had in raising you. He will give you a home.

I don’t know if I will still be alive when you read this letter. I hope so. I hope that I am around when you find the man of your dreams and get married. I hope I can be a grandmother to your children and help guide you in their upbringing. But if I can’t, if I am no longer there for you, please take my words and my advice to heart.

Be a fighter, but know when to ask for help. Stay strong, but understand when being vulnerable is more powerful. Be a woman who can take care of herself, but also maintain the ability to allow a man to help. And love, Aria. Truly love and never hold back.

Life is not always easy, as you already know. But I do not want you to grow hard.

Stone.

Cold.

I do not want you to feel like you can’t allow the softness to shine through. Allow the delicate to merge with the rugged. Please, my loving daughter, do not let the shadows of life darken your soul forever. Please.

I write this letter while you sleep, and your soft delicate features fill me with so much pride. I love you, my daughter. I love you so very much. My one true wish is that someday you will feel this same level of affection and devotion.

Forever loving you,

Your Mother

Matthew folded the letter with great care, placed it back in its protective box, and looked up to meet my tear-filled eyes. I didn’t have to read the letter to know what it said. I had memorized every single word of the letter and could quote it word for word.

“Oh, Aria. I…” He stopped and swallowed hard. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“The sad thing,” I said softly, “is I still hate my father. Even though she didn’t when she wrote the letter. I hate him so much. She had no idea that he would shoot her dead.”

“True. It seems that she loved him very much and never gave up hope that they could find the love again,” he agreed. “Do you know why he shot her?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. He began raging over something like always, and she sent me out of the house like all the other times. She never wanted me to see him beat on her. But this time, I not only heard her cries and screams, I heard the bang of his gun. I wonder if she finally had enough and stood up to him. Maybe she told him she would leave. I like to imagine that she left the world that day feeling strong. She stood her ground.”

“No doubt about it. It sounds like your mother was a very strong woman but also a romantic one that didn’t want to quit. I didn’t know her personally, but I heard stories.”

“When I wanted to just give up, I kept reciting her words in my head to keep me going. Do not let the shadows of life darken your soul forever. I chanted those words over and over silently to give me strength.”

Matthew reached out and stroked my hair with such kindness in his eyes. “Did you? Did you allow the shadows to darken you?”

I nodded. “Sometimes. Sometimes all I could see was pitch blackness while still living with my father. But sometimes… I saw a light in all that dark.”

“I’ve misjudged you as just being a typical mafia princess. I can see how wrong I was. I’m surprised you didn’t just allow the shadows to swallow you up. I know grown men who wouldn’t have been able to survive the things you have.”

I looked down at the letter sadly. “I want to be the woman my mother describes in this letter so badly. I want to be the loved wife, the mother, the happy woman so full of dreams. I want this letter to be me.”

Matthew got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against his warm frame. “It can be. You’re young. There’s no reason it can’t happen.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I hope so. I want that. But then… you know my father. I can’t exactly break away and forget the blood that runs through my veins. I think my mother would be very disappointed in me for doing nothing but play the part of mafia princess.”

“She would be very proud of you. She wanted you to be a fighter. Her words said so. She wanted you to be able to take care of yourself. You have already proven half of that letter is you. You are alive. You have spirit...” He smirked… “This much I know. The rest can still come.”

I looked up at the man I should hate, but didn’t, feeling hopeful. “Do you truly believe that? Do you think the daughter of Vittorio Costa can someday be loved?”

He leaned forward and placed his finger under my chin, so I had no choice but to look directly into his eyes. “I have no doubt,” he whispered, his lips still so close to mine. “You deserve it and so much more.”

As if under a spell, I raised my head just enough so that our lips touched in the softest of kisses. He didn’t move back or resist, but quite the opposite. He pressed his lips harder to mine and conquered my mouth with his—fully kissing me as a man would a woman.

Not as a capturer claiming his possession.

Kissing me as a man with desires. Desires that matched the ones ravaging my body.

When his tongue danced with mine, I let out a gasp, breaking the spell we were in.

Matthew pulled away and smiled, but he said nothing more. He tucked the blankets around me one last time and made his way to leave.

When the door closed behind him, I allowed the tears to fall. I wasn’t sure why I was crying. I wasn’t sad. I’d just received the first kiss of my life that truly meant something.

I continued to sob, realizing I was crying because of the relief. Because for the moment, I was safe, I was warm, and I was free from my father’s grasp. For at least tonight…

The only thing I did know, was his strong embrace helped ease the sobs shaking through my body. Something about Matthew calmed me.

As my eyes grew heavy, I hoped to God that for once in my life, sweet dreams would indeed come.

Chapter Eighteen

Matthew

Several days had passed and just as Aria’s health had completely improved, so had the weather. Spring was in the air, and as much as I loved the snow and the warmth of the fire, there was something special about the mountains of Colorado in the Spring. The days inside had been some of the best days of my life. Easy, casual, and natural. Tennessee had cooked us food that was absolutely sinful, and I soon realized he had missed his calling as a culinary chef. The three of us had played games, laughed, read books and drank bottles of wine I had been saving for the perfect occasion. If we all didn’t think about the circumstances of what brought us together, it would have been the perfect vacation getaway. I had even behaved and kept my hands to myself. I wanted her to get better, and as much as I enjoyed fucking her, I doubted I was helping her progress along by doing so. I knew she needed rest, and I had to behave myself. But it was hard. Really fucking hard.

I had several messages on my cell, and I knew they were from the men back at Spiked Roses. No doubt they had information about Vittorio Costa and my shipment, but I had no real desire today to ruin the mood by hiking to the top of a nearby hill to get the cell service required to check the message without it breaking it up and to make a call out. It was too nice of a day and Aria was in amazing spirits, and I loved seeing the smile on her face.

But I had to remember that business was business, and everyone was waiting on me.

“Aria,” I called to her upstairs. “Come on down. I was thinking we would go for a little hike today and get some fresh air.”

“Don’t worry about little ol’ me and if I need fresh air,” Tennessee joked as he walked by me. “I’ll stay cooped up in this house until I die of Vitamin D deficiency.”

“Oh, sorry. Do you want to—"

Tennessee laughed. “Hike? No. I’m just kidding. I’ll go sit in that large tub of yours and stare up at the skylight for all the vitamins I need. You better have the good oils and bubble bath.” He patted me on the back as he started to walk up the stairs. “You kids have fun. Don’t get into any trouble.”

“Aria!” I called up again.

“Coming. Hold on a second. I’m looking for hiking shoes,” she called back.

Patience was not one of my virtues but paced back and forth while I waited. Luckily, it wasn’t long. She came bouncing down the stairs with a smile on.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I have to check my phone for messages and make a few calls. There’s only one area nearby that I can get a strong enough signal. It’s a pretty walk and even goes by a river.”

“Great. Can I make some calls too?” she said with a playful smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve checked in,” she teased.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” I swatted her ass as I lead her out the door.

The sun beat down on us as we hiked over a small hill and entered a meadow with the river I had told Aria about. We were both a little winded from the exertion, but it was worth the walk. “We have to go on top of that hill,” I pointed. “But first…”

“But first what?” she said as she stared at the running water in the river. “We rest and put our feet in? Yes, that’s my vote.”

I leaned forward to nibble on her ear and said, “Let’s get your clothes off.” She turned and looked over her shoulder in surprise. “To go swimming,” I clarified and chuckled.

I was rewarded with a small smile and knew she liked the idea.

When we came upon a bend in a lazy river, complete with a tall oak tree for shade, I reached out to help her down the bank.

“Ready to get naked?” I asked, enjoying the devilish glint in her eye in response.

“I didn’t bring my bathing suit. What if someone comes by? Tennessee?”

“No one will come by, I assure you. Come on, it’ll be refreshing.” I laughed. “Actually, it will be as cold as fuck since that is melted snow, but I still dare you to jump in.”

She smiled and nodded in response. “I’ll take that dare.”

I was already shrugging out of my shirt while her fingers had barely made any progress on her clothing. As expected, I beat her into the water, diving into the deepest part of it.

She was much slower and more tentative, as I expected, and when she finally began to inch her way into the water, she was still wearing her bra and panties.

I began to walk slowly towards her, as if she was a doe I didn’t want to spook.

In the shallows, there was no mistaking where my interests lie. Even in the cold water, I was hard and fully, impressively erect. The power this woman had over me at all times was bewitching.

“You do swim?” I asked, coming to stand next to her.

She almost, but not quite, glared at me. “Of course, I do. It’s just cold.”

I could see the way her nipples were peaked beneath the material of her bra, although I would have preferred to have deluded myself into thinking that it was evidence of her own desires for me.

I dove away from her then, into deeper water, and turned around to wait for her to come all the way in, but I wasn’t one to wait on anything I wanted.

“Aria, you’re taking entirely too long. It’s going to be dinner time before you’re actually swimming,” I complained. “How about if I splash you to help things along?” I put my hand up in the water facing her as if I was going to do just that.

“Don’t you dare, Matthew!” She smiled, but I knew she was serious. “You better not splash me!” she fairly screeched. “I’ll get in on my own time. It’s fucking cold!”

I didn’t say anything to that, but commenced swimming in an arc around her, getting closer and closer to her. “What about if I grab you and pull you under?”

“Then I’ll know never to come swimming with you again,” she returned smartly.

I sighed loudly, but I had to admit that she was making progress. She was almost up to the tops of her thighs. “Dive in. You’re almost there.”

“Don’t push me!”

I dunked under and came up directly in front of her, my arms open wide as if I would hug her.

“Stop that! You can’t hug me. You’re all wet!”

She was yelling at me, but she was laughing too, and I felt as if a dead weight had been lifted off my heart. With so much rage that I had been holding inside, and the way things had started with us, it was good to see her laugh.

God she was beautiful.

As I slowly advanced, she backed up until she nearly stumbled backwards and my hand shot out to steady her, pulling her close instead inexorably against me for a soft, gentle kiss. But I could tell she was tense that I might pull her in with me, so I stopped there and backed off, and seconds later—her bra and panties thoroughly dampened by the contact with me—she surface dove into the cool water, popping up a good ways away from me.

“You can hold your breath a long time,” I praised, swimming over to where she was floating on her back.

“I told you I could swim. I just like to do things on my terms.”

I huffed in response. “Stand up,” I said, holding her hand to steady her as she found her feet in the sandy bottom.

She looked at me curiously, and I let go of her fingers to come to the top lace of her bra. “You’re wearing entirely too much clothing to be able to swim comfortably, aren’t you?” I asked it as if I was going to give her the chance to say no.

In seconds, she was naked in the water. I scooted out just long enough to put her bra and panties on the bush in the sun so that they would dry, then dove back in and chased her relentlessly, having the same advantages in my long legs and arms in the water as I did on land. I finally picked her up and carried her out of the river to lay her gently down on my shirt I had placed on a patch of grass before following her down to ravage her from head to toe, reveling in her soft sighs and ragged moans.

As I broke off a long, deep kiss, I looked down her body to see peaked nipples, and knew they weren’t just from the cold. Taking one in my mouth and feeling her arch at the stark contrast of my hot mouth surrounding that cold, hard bud, so much so that I crossed between them to do exactly the same thing to its companion, feeling myself surge between her legs with the need to possess her completely.

But I also needed to feel her quake beneath me, so I took my time preparing her relentlessly, kissing her, pinching and licking and flicking her nipples with my tongue. I let my hand wander down between thighs that parted shyly, a bit unsurely, as if she were a true innocent in this all again.

“Open for me,” I soothed, gently pressing my advantage, fingers cupping her pussy, the tip of my middle finger boldly parting her lips right at her opening to feel that hot slickness that nearly drove me to the point of fucking her right then and there. Then boldly bringing my finger up to a clit that was stiff, straining, and throbbing, rising to meet my caresses as she arched her hips beneath me with an audible moan.

Her fucking moans… nearly put me over the edge.

I nudged her knees further open with one of my own as I began to position myself between them, leaning down to lick a nipple here, tweak one there, languorously molest her, only to leave off as I lay fully on top of her and entered her with one powerful plunge.

Aria nearly screamed with the sensations my possession aroused within her, clutching at my shoulders as I began to surge against her, reaching between us to lay a big finger on her clit to rub it vigorously as I set an almost punishing rhythm, pounding myself into her.

I worried that I might be going a bit too hard on her, but I didn’t feel as if I could even control it. Luckily, she didn’t seem to be in any distress… quite the opposite. She canted her hips up so that I had even more and deeper access to her, bringing my lips down to hers as I felt her muscles begin to tense in that telltale manner that said she was probably ahead of me down the road to the ultimate pleasure.

And I was right.

When she exploded beneath me, she screamed my name before I could cut it off with my mouth.

I fucking loved the sound of it.

“Scream my name again,” I demanded as I thrust inside her with even more force than before.

“Matthew!”

“Again!”

“Matthew…” But this time her scream turned to a passionate moan.

Seconds later, she wasn’t the only one to moan… nearly scream.

Fucking Aria was different than fucking anyone in my past. My body responded to her differently. My mind got involved. My entire being demanded to be included. It wasn’t just a dick and a cunt. No… with Aria, there was so much more.

As the spasms began to die down, I lowered my head to press my forehead into the blanket next to her ear. My ragged breath my only words spoke.

And with a final thrust of my cock, she whispered, “I don’t ever want this to end.”

Chapter Nineteen

Matthew

But it had to end. This fairytale, this utopia, this self-imposed prison was always meant to be temporary. A means to an end. And as I checked my voice messages, I knew the end was now.

“You need to pick up the phone, man” I could hear Lennon say. “Vittorio made all the arrangements and has your paintings with diamonds intact. He’s anxious to make the swap.”

There was another message from Harley Crow. “What the fuck? Do you have a death wish? Vittorio’s pissed. He’s waiting for a response from you and wants his daughter back now. Where are you?”

And another one from Kenneth. “I don’t know what you are doing or who you are doing, but it’s time to start thinking with your head and not your dick. You have loose ends to tie up here. We need Tennessee back too. I can’t deal with all the drama this place brings. Only he has the magic. I’m throwing in the towel. Bring him back, now.”

I looked down the hill at Aria who was sitting by the river waiting for me. She seemed… happy. A smile was on her face, and she seemed like a completely person from the girl I had kidnapped. It could have been my imagination, or even wishful thinking, but when this ordeal was over, I hoped her remembrance of this time and of me would not be all dark and evil.

Which was odd that I even cared what she thought.

Who cares if she thought I was a monster? I didn’t care about that before. Who cares if she hated me forever and wanted me dead right along with her father?

I did.

I cared very much.

I decided to call Kenneth so he could call a meeting and fill all the men in on the details rather than me calling each of them back.

“It’s about time you called me,” Kenneth said when he answered the phone. “Honeymoon is over. I want Tennessee back, and you have a mess to clean up.”

“I know. We’ll head back first thing tomorrow morning. I need to get the house closed up, pack and…” I almost said ‘say goodbye’ but caught myself. “Can you charter a flight for me again for tomorrow morning? I don’t know how long I have signal.”

“Yeah fine. And what about Vittorio?”

“Tell Harley to set up the meeting. I’ll have Aria Costa with me, and we can make the exchange tomorrow. First thing.”

“You better hope you don’t end up dead.”

“I’m not worried.”

I hung up the phone and made my way back to Aria who looked up at me with the warmest smile. “Did you make your calls?”

I nodded. “Made arrangements for us all to leave tomorrow.”

Her smile faded. “Leave? Go where?”

“We’re going to New Orleans. Your father will be meeting us there with what he stole from me. We’ll be making the exchange and you’ll be free to go home with him.” Saying the words bit at my insides. I didn’t like saying them out loud, and I definitely didn’t like the way her happiness from seconds ago seemed to completely slip away at my news.

Aria remained silent and turned her head to stare out at the flowing water.

“We should probably head back to the house and tell Tennessee to pack up and get the house ready for us to leave. We’ll have to throw out the food and stuff since I have no idea when anyone will return. I don’t use this house often.”

She nodded and silently stood.

“Aria?” I took hold of her arm and pulled her closer until she looked up into my eyes. “Have I upset you by telling you this? Aren’t you happy it’s all over? Or at least will be tomorrow.”

She painted the fakest smile I had ever seen. “Sure. I’m happy.”

“Why do I feel you are lying?”

The fake smile remained. “Glad you’re getting your precious belongings back. My father isn’t one to lose, so I’m surprised by this is all. Congrats.”

I didn’t release her arm. “I don’t like games. I can see something is wrong. What?”

Her fake smile disappeared, and her lip quivered instead as she looked down toward the ground. “I guess I just…” She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “I had just been living in a false sense of reality I suppose.”

I released her arm and tipped her chin with my fingertip to force her to look up at me. I saw hints of tears in the depths of her dark eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What if I don’t want to leave?” A single tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. Her question was so soft and so vulnerable that I wasn’t sure what to say in response.

“Why would you not want to leave? Are you afraid? Because if you are, I can assure you that everything will happen flawlessly. At the end of the day, your father and I are businessmen, and this is going to go down like any other business transaction.”

“And that’s what I am? A business transaction?” More tears fell.

I was hurting her which was not my intent.

“I don’t mean that to sound cold or heartless,” I said. “I’m just trying to tell you that you aren’t in any danger.”

“I’m not worried about danger,” she snapped, walking away. “Don’t you get it? Fuck!” She stormed off, back toward the house.

“Aria!” I called out, jogging after her. I took hold of her arm again. “Why wouldn’t you want to leave then? If you aren’t afraid, then why?”

She jerked her arm away so hard that if I had held on to her, I would have bruised her. “For you, you prick! Are you so blind? Or maybe I’m the one that was blind. I thought… I thought that something was happening between us. But I guess I’m just the young, naive, virginal mafia princess who is also a stupid idiot.” Rage replaced the sadness that was just in her eyes. “But you said it yourself. I’m just a business transaction. I just didn’t want to hear you. But I get it now. Loud and clear. One possession for another. I guess I should be happy that I’m at least being exchanged for something of such high value.”

“For me? What are you talking about? You would want to stay here for me? Forever?” The absurdity of her words had my head spinning. Why in the world would she even consider that? To be a prisoner forever? “Why wouldn’t you want your freedom returned?”

“What freedom?” she shouted. “You’re just taking me out of one locked castle for another. Have you not listened to anything I have said to you about my life and my father?” She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath as she looked up at the sky. “Never mind. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. You’re right. It’s not like we could keep living like this. It was temporary. Just a kidnapping that would have to end eventually.” Her fake smile returned. “I get it. I do.”

Without saying another word, she spun on her heels and began running back toward the house. I couldn’t chase after her because her words and her reaction to leaving was like a kick in the balls.

“I thought that something was happening between us.”

Her words.

Something happening between us…

* * *

Aria

Matthew walked into the kitchen. “I can see… no, I can feel that I have upset you from our conversation outside. I didn’t like ending it that way.”

I looked into his deep eyes and said nothing. I met his gaze and allowed for him to truly see my pain. I wanted him to see how not being with him caused anguish like no other. Was I the only one that felt that way? Or was I the only one being honest enough to admit it?

“I just thought,” I began, hating that my voice shook as I spoke. “I just thought that there was more between us. That maybe that wasn’t the plan when your plan of taking me first began, but it happened.”

Matthew didn’t say anything but swallowed hard.

“Was it just fucking and waiting it out? Nothing more?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer but also having to know.

If I couldn’t be honest now, and expect honesty in return, then when? Once I returned to my father, I would never see Matthew again. So, what did I have to lose in asking? I needed to know the truth. Had I misread this completely?

He pulled me into his arms harshly, pressing my head to his chest with more force than I had ever experienced from his hand. “It kills me to see you hurt. I want to never be the cause of your heartache.” Without releasing his grip, he continued, “But what you want is not possible. It’s not the way your life should be. Missing. Hidden away. We can’t just hide away up in here in the little utopia and pretend the world doesn’t exist out there.”

“I understand that,” I said. But did I truly?

“Do you?” he asked, clearly reading through my eyes. “Because I get it. I won’t lie and tell you I haven’t felt there is more between us. The last few days have been some of the best days of my life. I can admit that to you.”

“Then why do we have to end?”

“Aria… come on. Life has to return to normal. You, me, up here in hiding, is not normal. We couldn’t do this forever no matter how much we want it.”

I nodded. Hating that Matthew was right, but also dreading what that meant.

“So, does that mean I go back with my father and never see you again?”

“I wish it could be different,” he said.

“But it could be. Why not? I’m a grown woman and could choose what I want.”

An eyebrow rose and he titled his head. “Aria. I appreciate how open and honest you’re being with me, but you need to be just as honest with yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“Could you leave your father on your own free will? Could you truly give yourself to me even if that meant going against his will?”

“I already did!” I snapped.

He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I took it. I stole it. I made it happen because that is what I do.”

“But I wanted it. I just didn’t tell you. But I did. And I do. I want you, Matthew Price. There I said it.”

Matthew shook his head. “But could you say it to your father? And even if you could, I wouldn’t want you to. I’m an asshole and always have been. Money, power and success has always come first with me. I usually just fuck women and discarded them like waste. I’m a fucking monster in that regard. I’m the pitch in the black. The only glimpse of light in my life is you. You and I are not the same and never will be.”

I pulled from his strong embrace. “I don’t care who or what you are. Just as you don’t care who or what I am.”

“When we leave here, the reality of life will kick in. A life for both of us that doesn’t blend.”

“How do you know?” I asked, fighting back the urge to break down and sob.

“Aria, this is final,” he dictated.

I had to do something. Anything. I needed to stop the pain inside. No more talk. I couldn’t hear his truth any longer. I didn’t want to face mine.

I closed my eyes for a moment, searching my entire being for the courage for what I was about to do. “Fine. If I can’t have you, then I want right now. I want right this second to feel you.” I tentatively pressed my palm to his chest. “I want to taste you.” I lowered my hand to the bulge in his pants. “I want to feel your cock between my lips.” I quickly undid his pants, releasing him from the confinement. “I want to show you that I can be just as dark as you if you would allow me. I want to rape you with my mouth.”

Matthew stood still, never making a move to stop me in my mission. I took this as a sign to continue on.

Maybe this was his language. No begging. No talk of reason. Nothing but filth and erotic indecency.

I knelt down, placed his hardened cock on the base of my tongue, and closed my lips tightly around him. Looking up into his eyes, I began to move my mouth up and down his shaft. Matthew never looked away. He never closed his eyes for a moment. He watched as I began my seduction. I tightened my lips and worked my tongue in small circles along the entire length. His taste, his smell, and his entire aura was everything to mesmerize me.

The weight of the demon rested on my tongue, and I nearly orgasmed because of it.

Matthew reached for my hair to stop me. “Aria,” he moaned.

I looked up into his eyes with his cock still in my mouth. I pulled it out enough to whisper, “Don’t, Matthew. I’m not the scared little princess you once took from her father’s house. I am a woman with desires, needs, and a hunger for you like nothing I could have imagined.” I lowered my mouth down to the base of his cock and slowly back to the tip. Removing his penis just enough to speak again, I rasped, “I want to be bad. I want to show you that I can dance in your world if you’ll let me.”

He closed his eyes and threw his head back in euphoric surrender. I knew I had won this battle. I smiled wickedly at my success and continued my quest to please Matthew like he had never been.

“Fuck my face,” I mumbled, ready to take it to the next level of kinky debauchery.

Suddenly the back door of the kitchen opened with a gust of wind. Standing in the doorway, was good ol Tennessee. Thin lips worked their way into a smirk as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Please continue on,” he offered with a chuckle. “It’s not like this is the kitchen we cook in or anything for fuck’s sake.”

I scrambled to my feet in shock and embarrassment, wiping signs of our act from the corners of my mouth.

“We were,” Matthew began, shoving his cock back into his pants, “just saying goodbye. It’s time to head back to New Orleans tomorrow.”

“New Orleans?” Tennessee asked, wide eyed. “Our little vacation is over?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, giving me a sad but also stern look that left no question his mind had been made up. “It’s come to an end.”

Chapter Twenty

Matthew

I was an arrogant bastard. You had to be in business. Never show fear. Never show doubt. And most definitely show you are willing to bend. That’s how I built my empire to the strength, and I wasn’t about to falter now.

Luckily, I had six other business partners who were taking my security and my life serious when it came to meeting up with Vittorio. My arrogance could have gotten me shot, or even worse—captured and tortured, if I did it my way. I would have just walked up to him with his daughter in my arms and handed her over as he handed over the paintings. Nice and simple. Black and white.

But it was far from that.

Vittorio had men. I had men.

And nothing about this situation or my situation with Aria was black and white. Gray was a murky arena that I could not just Gladiator my way through toward victory.

I watched Aria walk to the middle of the large parking lot with two of my men on each side of her. Four men from Vittorio’s side also approached to the middle carrying my paintings with them. I could see Vittorio Costa in the distance watching just as he could see me.

The exchange happened quickly and flawlessly.

And Aria never looked back once as she joined her father on his side of the black terrain.

She never looked at me once. No goodbye. No fuck you. No hidden message. Nothing.

“Come on,” Lennon said. “We got them all.”

“It’s over,” Harley Crow said. “A deal’s a deal, and you both are honorable men for conducting the transaction cleanly.”

I watched Aria get into the back of a black SUV with her father. She still didn’t look my way once.

It’s over. The deal is done.

* * *

Matthew

“All right, gentlemen. It’s time we get Spiked Roses back in business fully. To up our game,” I began the meeting, trying to shake off the miserable mood I had been in for weeks. Business as usual needed to occur or I was going to lose my damn mind. “Tennessee has been back for a couple of weeks and has whipped the staff in shape. It’s time we offer a Tasting in the Tasting Room.”

“Hell yes,” Lennon said. “Long overdue.”

“Any ideas?” I asked. “We need a theme.”

“Leaving Vittorio Costa out of this, I liked what I saw at his party in Aspen,” Victor Drayton chimed in. “We could do it so much better as I saw lost opportunity. But a pet play theme is fucking hot.”

I hated hearing Vittorio’s name, but I also refused just to show how sensitive I was over the whole thing. Time to move on. Hell… it was way past time to continue to wonder how Aria was. Was she safe? Happy? In the arms of another man…

Fuck.

“Our staff would be the sexiest kitties around,” Kenneth said with a nod of approval. “I could see every one of our members wanting to be a part of this.”

“It’s a good idea,” I said, giving my vote.

All the men agreed, and we began taking notes on what we wanted to see to give to Tennessee.

Business was back in order.

Focus on money.

Focus on the business.

Focus on anything but Aria Costa and her ghost.

* * *

Matthew

“You need to go to the Tasting and get your dick licked by a kitten’s tongue,” Tennessee said to me as he stood in my office right before the Tasting was about to begin.

“I’m fine,” I said, not looking up from the paperwork on my desk. “I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

“You’ve done nothing but work since we returned. I find it hard to believe that you are behind in anything,” Tennessee said. I knew the man wouldn’t take my hint and just leave.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“So, get in the mood,” he continued to push.

“Pet play really isn’t my thing,” I said, hoping that would be enough.

“Make it your thing.”

“Fuck, Tennessee. Leave me the fuck alone, alright? I’m not in the mood to attend the damn Tasting.”

“No, because whether you like it or not, you and I have crossed the line into friendship. You can’t eat my dumplings and not be a buddy. So, I’m standing here as your friend and not your employee. You need to do one of two things. Go get her back, which is what you really want to do, or get over her. Either way, you get your dick licked tonight. Either by her, or someone else. I think the choice is easy. Aria has a cute little tongue, though. My vote would be for her.”

“Fuck off,” I growled. My patience was gone. “This conversation is over.”

Tennessee crossed his arms against his smoker’s jacket in defiance. “The Tasting can’t run without me. And I won’t leave here unless you do. I’m done seeing you mope around, and I’m going to do something about it.”

I slammed my hands on my desk and stood. “Fine! I’ll go to the damn Tasting if it means shutting your ass up and getting you out of the office.”

I would make an appearance, have a drink, and then get the fuck out of there. I was in no mood to battle this out any longer with Tennessee.

Tennessee lead me out of the office with a huge shit eating grin on, clearly proud of himself that he had gotten his way.

“It’s going to be one of our best Tastings. You should see the women. The leather costumes we put them in, the kitty ears, the tails… art I tell ya.”

“Great,” I mumbled, not giving a fuck.

When we entered the large room, I did have to give credit where credit was due. The staff of Spiked Roses were absolutely sexy, and the turnout was by far one of our bests. The room was almost at full capacity and another body or two would have the Fire Marshal knocking on our door. The long, red window coverings contrasted with the black leather the women wore giving off a gothic, erotic vibe that was always a favorite of mine. Women were on hands and knees, asses in the air that were plugged with a variety of tales, and our members were all dressed in their finest ready to dominate the participants.

Before I could walk over to the bar to get a drink, a kitty crawled up to me and curled herself at my feet. I tried to not look or pay any attention, but in the corner of my eye I could see that Tennessee had done a particularly good job preparing this kitty. She wore a skintight leather leotard with a tail popping out from a hole cut in the back. Her butt plug tail was long with little white bows tied to the fur. Her mask covered all of her face except cherry-red lips that begged to have a cock within them. I looked away to try to not even consider the temptation.

Her fingernails clawed my leg, and although the woman was doing exactly what she was paid to do, I was annoyed. The staff should be paying attention to the members. Not me.

I stepped back to give the hint I wasn’t interested, but she only reached out with her delicate hand and caressed my leg again.

I squatted so I could look her in the eye and quietly tell her that she needed to focus her attentions on one of the members as discreetly as I could. I didn’t want to reprimand a staff person at a Tasting and risk ruining the energy of the room.

“I appreciate your interest and effort,” I said, “but… Aria?”

“Meow,” Aria said with a twinkle in her eye and a wicked smile.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in here?” I stood up, and then I reached down and yanked her up to standing. I pulled her to a corner of the room and hissed in her ear. “You shouldn’t be here. I don’t even know how you got passed the front door.”

“Lucky for me, I happen to be friends with the house manager.”

Fucking Tennessee.

I glanced down at her attire and felt a surge of primal possession. “What are you wearing? Why are you here as a kitty?” No fucking way was I going to allow this.

“Tennessee said—”

“I don’t give a fuck what Tennessee said. You are not allowed to be part of this Tasting. Did he hire you?”

She shook her head. “No, he just told me how I could find you. He was the one to push me to finally talk with you.”

“At a fucking Tasting? Dressed as a sex kitty? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Not being able to handle another second of knowing other eyes could see her firm little ass with a tail sticking out of it and getting hard by the vision, I took her by the arm and lead her out of the room and to the office.

“Does your father know you are here?” I considered calling Harley Crow and telling him that Spiked Roses was in danger of an attack, but I needed to act on facts and not fear.

“No. He has no idea,” she reassured. “He’s in Monaco right now.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” I asked, taking off my jacket and covering her body with it. It was just the two of us, and I had obviously seen her naked, but I didn’t like having this discussion with her dressed in this attire.

“I haven’t been with him since I returned. Basically, I came back as damaged goods in his eyes. He no longer felt he possessed some flawless diamond. So, he just left me alone. Went about his business as if I didn’t exist. I think him seeing me was a reminder of how you won, and he lost.”

“I’m sorry. Had I known…”

“Don’t be sorry. That was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I actually could breathe for the first time in my life. It wasn’t like I was ever searching for Daddy Dearest’s approval. I was simply in survival mode being controlled by a very bad man. So, if his attentions are elsewhere now, then good.”

“Why are you here, Aria?”

She looked down at the ground and took a deep breath before making eye contact with me again. “I’ve been in contact with Tennessee ever since we left Colorado. He told me that you’re miserable. That you’re walking around like a lost puppy is the term I believed he used. And,” she bit the corner of her lip, “I was thinking that if you were even half as sad as I was. And if you were even a quarter of missing me that I was you, well then… I needed to try.”

“Try what?” My pulse quickened.

“I miss you, Matthew. I hate being away from you.” She took a tentative step toward me. “Am I alone in feeling this?”

“No, you are not alone,” I confessed.

“So then why are we not together?”

God, I loved her naive outlook on life. In her eyes, it was all so simple. But nothing about me was simple. Nothing about this entire situation was.

“If I could turn back time—”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” she interrupted. “Maybe our love story didn’t start off in the most conventional of ways, but I wouldn’t want it to change.”

“Love story? Are you hearing yourself?” I took a few steps away from her so I could give us both some breathing room. “How could you possibly stand there and use the word love?”

“Because it’s the truth.” She closed the distance between us. “If you don’t love me, then tell me now. But I can’t leave here and not be completely honest. I owe it to me, and I owe it to this baby.”

Baby?

What the fuck?

Baby?

My face must have said it all, because Aria gave a weak smile and nodded. “I’m pregnant with your child.”

Jesus, I had been so careful… except that one time. That fucking one time. I was a careless fuck and now she had to pay the consequences for it.

She placed a hand on her belly. “And I’m happy about it. I want the baby, and I want you.” Her smile faded. “But I also understand if this is not what you want. I’m prepared to do this alone.”

I stormed over to my desk and placed both palms on the cool wood to try to prevent myself from falling. Jesus fucking Christ.

Very slowly, I raised my eyes and looked at her. She was so calm. So serene. So, accepting of this new and shocking fact of impending parenthood.

I glanced at her belly and then back at her face, her lips, her eyes. “You’re sure?”

She nodded and her smile grew more. “Positive.”

Man up, motherfucker. Man up.

“Of course, you won’t be doing this alone,” I said, wishing my voice came out more powerful and forceful than it did. “I take care of what is mine.” I crossed the room and took her hands into mine. “And from this moment on, you and this baby is mine.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at me. “I don’t want you to feel responsible for me just because I’m pregnant. I want you, and I want this baby, but I don’t want to force you. I don’t want to kidnap you.”

I pulled her into my arms and held her against me. Stroking the back of her head, I said the words I never thought I would say. “I love you. I will love this baby. And I will never let you go again. I may make mistakes in my life, but I never make the same one twice. I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I will never stare at your back as you walk away from me ever again. I’ll spend a lifetime trying to prove to you that you can count on me. That you can trust I take care of what is mine.”

I was going to be a father.

I had Aria in my arms.

My head spun and my heart felt as if it struggled to beat. Could I do this? Could I be this man? Could I change who I was and everything that I once believed?

Aria released a deep breath which sounded like one of relief. “So now what? What do we do?”

“Whatever you want,” I answered, and I meant it. “I would be a slave to her every whim. She was owed that.

Aria pulled away just enough to look up at me. “Can we go back to the house? Maybe not forever, but for now. Allow us to process and accept. I need to breathe, and the air up there is the air I want in my lungs as I carry this baby.”

I nodded, loving the idea. Yes, that was exactly what I needed right now. Air. I needed the mountain air, Aria, and the time to plan.

Chapter Twenty-one

Aria

The morning light cast its wake-up call through the window. Waking up to a warm body and soft breathing by my ear sent a thrill through my core with the knowledge that the rest of my life would be like this. Even though I was still exhausted from the amazing sex the night before, and every day since we arrived back to our mountain escape, I had never felt so at peace before in my life. My body practically hummed in contentment.

Wrapping his arms around my body, Matthew murmured against my neck, “I had a dream that I woke up and you were gone. Don’t ever leave me again. Even in my dreams.”

I turned my head to look over my shoulder, my mind twinkling with mischief. “And if I do?” I teased as I pressed my bare ass to his hardness.

Matthew slid his hands around my waist and pulled me tighter against him. I didn’t resist, but instead, positioned my body so that the entrance to my ass rested against his lengthening desire.

“I would have to punish you,” he said with a nip to my ear. “Again.”

I released a soft moan, tilting my head back in sweet surrender. I pressed my ass even closer, allowing the tip of his erection to enter past my tight opening. Not all the way, but enough to feel the biting sting of my taboo channel. Matthew splayed his hands across my mound and toyed with my clit, swirling his fingertip in circles. He already understood every inch of my body and had already mastered the skill of causing my body to hum.

“Then I’ll just have to accept my punishment like a good girl,” I replied, sighing contentedly.

With the tip of his penis still teasing my back entrance, he growled, “I just had you and should be satisfied, but I only want you more. You have a fucking intense power over me.”

“You better fuck me now before I my belly grows so big that it gets in the way,” I said with a giggle.

“Fuck, I have a feeling that will turn me on even more.”

Matthew twirled me to face him, his hands hugging the roundness of my behind. Inhaling deeply, acting as if intoxicated by my scent, he moaned.

He slipped a finger under my chin and tipped my face up to him. His lips met mine. They were warm and soft, yet aggressive in their assault. There was a new hunger, a new want. When his arms slipped around my waist, his finger sliding into the crevice of my ass, there was no tension or tightening from me whatsoever. Every inch closer his finger got to my puckered hole; my body softened against his. With a hungry press of his fingertip into my tightness, my full submission took over. I hungered for this, and he needed to make sure I never hungered again.

“I want you here. I want to bury myself deep in your ass and feel the tightness all around my cock.” Pressing his finger deeper within my ass, he growled, “I’ll ask you once and only once for permission. If you say yes, I’ll conquer this tiny ass of yours and make it mine forever.” He pulled his finger out of my channel just enough to elicit a gasp I couldn’t hold back. “I want to be buried deep within your ass. So deep that I can feel your ultimate submission.”

“Yes, I want you to. This part of me has never been claimed. It’s yours to do with as you please.”

“It’ll hurt, and you’ll scream out my name. So, if you allow this, just know that it won’t be easy at first. My cock is far different than a plug or kitty tail.”

“I don’t care. I want you to.” My eyes were still closed, my breath rapid as I clutched his arms.

He got up and reached for the drawer, digging around searching for something. I opened my eyes to see him pull out a bottle and open it. He squeezed the substance onto his fingers and began to coat it along the length of his hard cock. Up and down he stroked himself, never breaking his stare from mine. “I’ll try to make this as easy as I can on you. But I can’t help the part of me that is fucked up. The wicked part of me who wants to hear you scream out my name and beg for mercy.”

An animalistic urge took over me as he got back on the bed, flipped me fully onto my belly, and spread my legs wide. He grabbed more of the lubrication and coated my anus with it, dipping his slick finger inside my hole to lubricate my inner walls.

“I want you to reach back with your hands and spread your ass nice and wide for me. I want to see your little pucker as I slide my dick inside of it.”

I moaned as I followed his command, feeling juices of anticipation drip from my pussy while I gripped the flesh of my ass. The excitement of what was to come almost knocked the air out of me. The feel of the cool temperature of the room kissed my anus, and I moaned again, loving the feel of being utterly exposed to him. Nothing was concealed from his view. He hadn’t even put his cock fully in me yet, and I was already about to come, and I wished I had a free hand to play with my clit.

“You are such a good girl. So obedient. I’ll have to reward you soon.” His final word was followed by a moan as the tip of his cock pressed against the entrance and slowly eased its way in.

As the flesh of my asshole spread wide, I gasped and a small cry escaped my lips. The biting pain, the sizzle straight to my core, and my throbbing pussy revealed that deep in my darkest fantasies I desperately wanted this.

I wanted more. More pain, more possession, more of Matthew’s large cock stretching my delicate flesh.

Matthew continued on, slowly taking my ass one small inch at a time. I remained in position but let out an almost howl-like sound when he finally planted himself all the way in. It hurt! It hurt badly, and yet the delicious sting had my body humming all over.

“All right, baby. You can release your ass. I’m in you,” he growled. “God you’re so tight. So fucking hot.”

“You’re so big. So big,” I whimpered.

“Relax, baby. Deep breaths. All my dick to spread you.”

He slowly began to slide out and then push back in with shallow motions. He went slowly enough, and easy enough that my body soon accepted the invasion. It wasn’t long before I was meeting his thrusts with the motion of my hips, silently giving him permission to unleash and give me a proper ass fucking.

And taking his cue as a true alpha, he did just that.

Fire erupted inside me, and I could no longer contain the scream that rested on the tip of my tongue. The inner walls of my anus pulsated around his plunging cock, and my scream blended with his growl of completion.

I wasn’t sure if I passed out or if complete surrender cast a spell on me, but I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to take over, faintly remembering Matthew easing his cock out of me.

* * *

Aria

I smiled and looked deeply into his eyes. “I wish I could see myself through your eyes.”

“So do I. If you could, you would see a beautiful woman who has captured my heart.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulled me in and engulfed my frame in his arms. Lightning struck through me as his lips plummeted to mine. He captured my mouth, demanding full submission as he thrust his tongue past my lips. His body, his mouth, his breath—everything merged with all I had. A soft moan escaped his lips and entered me as he kissed with an intensity greater than any mountain storm. This man, this moment, this very second seemed to take everything I once knew, once felt, all away—leaving only a shell of a girl hungry for more. Hungry for passion, hungry for love, hungry for a future with a man who truly did care about her.

Was I still his captive?

Was I still his revenge?

Was I still a pawn in his wicked game?

“Matthew?” I whispered against the kiss. “I need to know the truth. What is it you want from me? Truly.”

“I want you. I want this baby. I want a family and love. I know this more than ever as we have spent the time together just us in this house. It’s right. We are right in this world of wrong. You are my right. This baby will be my right.”

I watched the way the sunlight peeked through the leaves of the trees, casting long sunrays through the window of Matthew’s bedroom—through the window of our bedroom. “You don’t even know me. Not really.”

He reached for my shoulder and gently held me in place. “I know you. I may not know all the details of your past. But I know you now. I know the woman who stands before me. I have seen you vulnerable. I have seen your self-reliant strength, your wisdom, and your whimsical charm. And what I don’t know about you, I plan to learn. And I’m a very fast learner. But the question is if you feel the same. Do you see a possible future with me?”

I cast my eyes to the ceiling, wishing we could just kiss so no words need be spoken. I could feel the burn from Matthew’s gaze as he waited. I remembered the words of my mother and tried so hard to believe them, but demons in my head were screaming.

“What about my father?”

“What about him?”

“He’ll never allow this. When he finds out about the baby and his blood line continuing… God help us if the baby is a boy.”

Matthew’s jaw clenched. “I have no intention of asking or caring. And he won’t come anywhere near my baby.”

“My father will try to destroy you. Don’t you see how crazy this idea is?”

“Your father is one man with an average size army. I have an empire. A ruthless empire that he wouldn’t dare provoke.”

I remained silent. Matthew wasn’t safe. This life wasn’t safe.

Happiness for me wasn’t safe. And my baby… my poor baby.

“And now that I have you and this baby to protect, I will build my empire even stronger. No one will dare mess with me. No one would dare try to touch our family. And if they do, or if your father even tries, I will personally kill them with my bare hands. You are mine. This baby is mine. I will never allow my most prized possessions be taken from me. Never.”

Even though my mind screamed I should choose safe. The rest of me demanded I follow my heart and give myself over to this man. To be the woman he saw. To be the woman I always wanted to be. A wife, a mother someday, loved.

“So, the question still remains on how do you feel about me? Could you see me as your husband? Could you vow to love me forever?”

“I want that so badly,” I whispered, still not looking up to him. I couldn’t. “I want that perfect love story. But I don’t know what being in love means. I don’t know what to do because other than my mother, I had no guidance in this.”

A soft chuckle came from Matthew as he pulled me into his embrace. “I’m a man who analyzes and thinks about everything. It’s the businessman in me. But when it comes to love, I don’t think we need to think. We just need to feel.” He kissed the top of my head. “We let our hearts tell us what to do.”

“And what does your heart tell you to do?” I asked with my face pressed into his chest.

“To kiss you again.”

I looked up into his eyes and smiled. Licking my lips, I whispered, “That’s what my heart tells me to do as well.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, softer than the time before. He gently nipped at my lips and added, “And my heart tells me to make you mine forever.”

“As does mine,” I said between sweet and tiny kisses.

“My heart also tells me to never let you go. To ask you to marry me and be my wife. Unless you want to always live in sin, that is.”

“And my heart says for me to say yes. Yes, I will be your wife. I’m also down for all the sinning we can do.”

The End

About the Author

ALTA HENSLEY is a USA TODAY bestselling author of hot, dark and dirty romance. She is also an Amazon Top 100 bestselling author. Being a multi-published author in the romance genre, Alta is known for her dark, gritty alpha heroes, sometimes sweet love stories, hot eroticism, and engaging tales of the constant struggle between dominance and submission.

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