by Marlee Wray
“More,” I whisper.
“Good.” He withdraws and then pumps in harder.
My body melts, all sweet and soft and creamy for his cock. This is how he expects things to be. He’ll spank me and then take me, whenever and wherever he wants.
My mind rattles at the edges of protest, but I’m too far gone. My pussy clenches around him, and an orgasm rips through me. I gasp and dig my nails into the cushions while he continues to fuck my dripping pussy.
“C,” I husk, the sensations still rippling through me.
His grip tightens, but he slows, throbbing hard inside me. “In a minute,” he says, driving deep. “Lift that beautiful ass,” he says, giving it a hard swat.
I moan at the heat and the way his thick cock impales me. I raise my booty as commanded.
“That’s it. Gorgeous. I can’t wait to fuck your little hole. I’m gonna make you whimper and cry. You’re gonna learn to love taking me there.”
My pussy spasms, and another orgasm drags me into pleasure.
He groans as he spills his seed into me. “Feels so good.”
After a few harsh breaths, he pulls out and takes a step back. I hear him zip his trousers, and my face flames, remembering finally that we’re in a public place. There’s stickiness coating my thighs, and I wonder why I’m only becoming embarrassed now.
“Stand up,” he says, tugging my hair.
I rise and turn, not anxious to meet his eyes. He kisses me, his tongue invading my mouth, his body hard against mine.
When he lets me go, I know I’m a mess. My wild hair cascades over my shoulders, my dress is bunched around my waist, and my panties are still lowered as moisture drips down my thighs.
He smiles and kisses me again. “I love the way you look right now, dirty girl.” He cups my cheek with his palm. “But go get cleaned up.”
I step away, pulling my panties up and arranging myself in my dress before ducking into the bathroom.
* * *
Connor
I open the shutter to look down over the street. My mind is not on the people passing by. My mind is on the way Zoe looked with her ass up in the air while I whipped it and then fucked her. It was a pretty sight. And so was the way her body responded to everything I did.
Being with her is more satisfying than I’d ever imagined it could be. I flex my muscles and stretch, thinking about the ways things might play out between us.
I live a dangerous life. A wild, ‘no holds barred’ kind of life. Since I never know when it might be over, I do whatever the hell I want when I’m not doing what it takes to survive. She’s young and pretty innocent, despite her close association with Frank Palermo. How much do I want her to see? Do I try to keep her shielded from it? Or do I bring her all the way in?
I know what I want. I want her close—as close as possible. But it doesn’t make sense to tell her much when she’s not committed. All this talk about going back to her own place when she’s got everything she needs at mine. She’s holding back. Like she’s trying to keep a foot in each camp. I can tell her that’s not going to work. It’s one side or the other.
And I know I can give her things she craves. She’s wanted me since she was eighteen and experiencing my dominant side has does nothing to quench her thirst. I adjust my cock, which is already stirring as I think again about having her body under mine.
She emerges, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. I kiss her, and then call down for food and drinks.
“Sit back and relax,” I say.
She tosses her dark curls over her shoulders and looks up at me. “We should probably be more careful.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask.
She smiles. “Not exactly.”
“Me neither. So whatever we should do is probably not what we’re going to do, is it?”
She laughs softly and finally leans back into the cushions. “I guess not.”
I love to see her relaxed and laughing after we’ve just had a scene and then some.
I think about what we’ve uncovered about her ex-boyfriend. Sanders tried to get into the Palermo organization before, but hadn’t been welcomed because he had a reputation for losing his cool and running away in tense neighborhood situations.
But when Sanders started dating Zoe, he’d met Frank through her. And it was at a time when Frank was in need of more guys. The word from people in the know was that Frank had encouraged Sanders to do something to prove himself. Sanders apparently had because now he’d gained entry as a new foot soldier in Frank’s army.
Since he doesn’t need Zoe to get his foot in the door with Frank anymore, Sanders might only want to see her because he wants her back. Or maybe he’s interested in recovering the bundle of money he left in Zoe’s place.
I don’t really care why he wants her, he’s not getting his hands on her.
* * *
Zoe
C’s Range Rover with the tinted bulletproof windows has the wrong effect on me. I feel safe and enjoy the soft leather against the backs of my bare thighs. I lean forward, looking through the songs in his playlist.
I glance over at him. God, his body is amazing. The definition in his forearms alone makes me want to touch him. What would he do if leaned over his lap? Would he tell me to take him in my mouth? I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the overwhelming lust. There’s something primal about the way I respond to him. It’s not just physical either. All he needs to do is look at me. Or whisper my name. As if sensing my thoughts, he speaks.
“We’re good together, Zoe,” he says.
My heart thuds slowly, and I stare into his eyes, getting lost in them for a long moment.
“We do have great chemistry,” I say.
“Do you think that’s all it is? Lust?” he asks curiously.
“I think... I don’t know what I think.”
“Some of the time you’re fighting this. Why?”
I sigh. “I guess because I’m used to running my own life. You’re used to running everything. It’s tough to just relinquish control.”
“Do you want to negotiate? Tell me what you want.”
“For starters, I want you to let me leave.”
“You expect me to agree to something that I think would put you in danger?”
“I think there are safe places I could go, but it suits you to have me at your place.”
“Doesn’t that suit you too? Most of the time?” he asks with a small smile. “Seems like it does when you beg me for more.”
I hold up a hand in surrender. “I like being with you, but I won’t be happy until it’s my choice to be with you or not. Otherwise, this whole thing is shades of Frank Palermo. He’s very good at keeping people under his thumb through force and manipulation. I’m not willing to live my life that way.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“Look around, C. At times, it already is that way.”
He shakes his head. “There are things you don’t understand.”
“So help me understand.”
He shakes his head, and I hate the silence. I know this is the nature of their business. They keep secrets. Things are on a need-to-know basis, and even when things are about you, someone might decide you don’t need to know.
I need it to be different between Connor and me. After going to Joe and Manda’s I thought he’d confide more. I thought I’d shown him he could trust me. Apparently not. And that hurts more than I thought it would.
Chapter Thirteen
Zoe
I wake from a nightmare, my body rigid and damp with sweat. I can’t remember the details, but I know someone was choking me, accusing me of betraying them. Beside me Connor’s sound asleep. I slide from the bed, not wanting to wake him.
I take my cell into the bathroom and close the door before turning on the light. I wet a washcloth with cool water and rub it over my throat and chest and then the back of my neck. I close my eyes and do a breathing exercise I use to calm my nerves before a show. It helps. My pound
ing heart slows to its normal slow beat.
The light on my phone is blinking blue. I’ve got several missed text messages.
There is one from Frank that he sent around midnight. It’s simple. I expect to see you tomorrow. Let me know when you’re coming by. He’s wanted to see me for days, and I’ve responded with how busy I am with rehearsals and plans with friends. Neither of us has mentioned Connor McCann. I’m sure Frank’s heard by now that Connor’s taken me back and forth to the theater. If I don’t go to see Frank, how will I explain that later? Say that Connor wouldn’t let me? Admit that I’d become involved with Connor and didn’t feel comfortable visiting Frank because I didn’t want to admit that to him?
There’s also a string of texts from Dennis, who’s pushing to get together. The first texts say he wants to take me out to celebrate the show. In the most recent ones, he asks me outright if I’m all right. He wants me to call him. We’re not together and, from C’s account, it sounds like Dennis’s behavior is suspect, but shouldn’t I give an ex-lover the benefit of the doubt until I talk to him myself?
I feel guilty for not responding, but I’m not sure what to say. Be vague and tell him everything’s fine? Would he believe it if I sent that message in a one-line text? Because that’s what I’d have to do. I don’t want to talk to him on the phone and lie, or worse, have to get into a long honest conversation about where I’ve been.
A big part of the reason I gave for breaking up with Dennis was that he wanted to work for Frank Palermo and I didn’t want to be involved with a guy in a crime syndicate. Now I’m sleeping with the man Frank mentored. How could I possibly defend that choice? How could I even explain it? With the truth? Am I going to admit that there’s something about Connor McCann that I can’t resist? Am I going to admit that despite the kinky things he does—or maybe even because of them—I crave his hands on my body?
I take a deep breath.
What are you doing, Zoe? Is this the life you want?
I close my eyes and shake my head. I’ve already seen what things with Connor will be like. He’ll expect to control everything, including me.
I extinguish the phone’s light and flick off the bathroom light. I open the door and wait for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I pad silently across the floor, grabbing my tote and overnight bag.
I tiptoe out of the room, closing the door behind me. I’m as quiet as possible as I descend the stairs. I find the downstairs bathroom nearest to the front door and dress in jeans and a sweatshirt. I try to remember where my coat is. I think I left it in the media room. I’ll need it if I plan to stand outside in the cold waiting for an Uber.
I put my boots and socks next to the front door and head down the wide hall to the media room. There’s light coming from under the door. I pause. Is Trick or Anvil inside watching a movie? I wouldn’t expect it to be Anvil unless he’s keeping an eye on the house. C said Anvil has his own apartment behind the house. Trick doesn’t live in the compound, so he’s the more likely candidate to be hanging out in the main house, I guess.
I bite my lip. My coat’s probably still lying on a chair that’s right next to the door. There’s a large media tower of electronics that could shield me from sight. Beyond it, there are a few steps leading down to a series of couches with built-in recliners. The entire far wall acts as the screen for the projector that’s built into the ceiling. There are no windows, only a few fancy sconces. It’s like a personal screening room for someone who can afford movie mogul luxe.
It’s three in the morning. Whoever was watching the movie might even be asleep with something still running. I don’t hear anything. Of course, the walls are reinforced to dampen sound. It’s a cave of a room.
I remind myself there’s no way I can go outside without a coat, which is what finally decides things. I open the door. My brows rise at the sound. There’s whimpering and the crack of something—a belt? I immediately flash back to bending over the couch at Slattery’s.
I bite my lip. Someone’s watching porn.
None of my business. But of course I’m super curious.
I see my coat and press my lips together. The chair’s farther in than I realized. I flatten myself against the wall and slide along it, extending a hand. If I can just reach it while most of my body is shielded from view by the tower, I’ll be in and out with no one the wiser.
“I think she’s had enough,” a low voice says.
I freeze, recognizing Anvil’s voice. I blink and lean slightly forward.
I get a glimpse of the scene. Anvil’s sitting on the couch, his shoulders bare. I can’t tell if he’s just shirtless or naked. There’s a muted movie playing on the screen... something old. Maybe Reservoir Dogs?
Trick’s standing behind the couch with some sort of implement in his hand. And bent over the couch is clearly a woman if the curve of the naked hips, butt, and legs are any indication. There are red marks striping her ass, and her hands are cinched together in some sort of pouch.
“Have you had enough? Tap your foot once for yes,” Trick says. He’s wearing dark boxer briefs, and his body is as good as expected.
I’m transfixed for a moment. Is she gagged? I really want to see her face. Her bare, narrow foot taps the floor.
Trick drops the implement on the couch. “You first or me?” Trick asks casually.
“It’s all you,” Anvil says, watching the movie.
I’m so torn. A dark and dirty part of me wants to stay and watch, too fascinated to move.
Another part knows that every second I stay raises the possibility that I’ll be caught. And how would they react? How would C react?
I slide my coat slowly and carefully from the chair. Then I back out of the room.
My cheeks are flushed and my breath’s short as I hurry back to the front door. I drag my socks on and shove my feet into my boots. Then I yank my bags up on my shoulder and quietly open the door. I step out into the velvety darkness, pulling the door closed behind me as gently as I can.
The sharp cold burns my nostrils. I follow a walkway to the drive and take it, knowing it leads to the front’s gated entrances. I am only about fifty feet from the house when a noise behind me startles me, and I spin around to find Anvil towering over me.
He’s got a long coat on, but it’s open so I can see his bare chest and jeans. There’s a gun in his left hand and flashlight in his right. He clicks on the flashlight and shines it on the surrounding area.
“Are you meeting someone?” he demands.
“No,” I say sharply.
“Get back to the house,” he says, continuing forward.
“I—I’m leaving.”
His head turns and his glance sizes me up. “Who’s coming to pick you up?” he demands.
“I was going to call an Uber from the sidewalk.”
He stares at me a moment. “You were going to stand on the sidewalk in the middle of the night, waiting for a random Uber driver?”
I don’t answer.
“You know where you are, right? We’re south of Aberdeen Street.”
Everyone knows the roughest neighborhoods in Coynston are south of Aberdeen.
I’m shivering from cold and the shock of being discovered. He’s so tall I have to crane my neck to look at him.
“I guess I knew that, but I didn’t expect there to be much mayhem next to the C Crue compound.”
The front door opens, and Trick strolls out with Connor directly behind him. Trick’s got jeans and sweatshirt on. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t have had any idea that he’d just been engaged in some BDSM scene.
Trick smirks at the sight of me. “Nice night for a walk, huh, Zoe?”
“You checked the house that fast?” Anvil demands of him.
“The house is fine,” Trick says.
“I tripped an alarm?” I ask.
Connor takes my arm and turns me back toward the house. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“She thought she could get an Uber,” Anvil
murmurs. “She was going to wait on the front curb.”
Trick laughs heartily. “I love this girl.”
Connor is not laughing. He looks furious.
I’m hustled back into the mansion, and my bags are tossed into the closet. My gaze darts toward the media room. Is the girl still draped over the couch? Or did they un-restrain her and let her dress since they thought they might be under siege from intruders?
“I think this time we should get to watch you punish her,” Trick says, still smiling.
“I should let you,” Connor says.
I suck in a breath and shake my head.
“Good. Where? Is there time for me to make popcorn?” Trick jokes. “I’m hungry.”
Anvil removes his enormous coat, which could blanket a small village. There are several scars on his torso that draw my eyes. I remember hearing of various bloody battles that C Crue’s fought in various parts of the city. Are those his war wounds? I guess so.
“Anvil, you want popcorn?” Trick asks.
“Nah. I’ll be in the media room,” he says, stalking away.
“What’s up with you?” Trick calls after him. “You planning to take Holy Orders or what?”
Anvil ignores the question and disappears back into the room.
“There’s very beautiful company in the house, and he’s watching Reservoir Dogs for like the third time this year. What the hell?”
“I don’t know,” C says, not even looking in Anvil’s direction.
“Maybe you should have him checked out,” Trick says. “Let me know if you want me to do a search for a nearby urologist. Or a shrink.”
Connor doesn’t answer.
I try to pull back when we reach the main staircase.
C’s eyes narrow. “Zoe, you’ve tried my patience enough tonight.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing at the moment. You and I will sort this out in the morning.”
I glance at Trick and then back at Connor.
“Morning’s fine with me,” Trick says.
“You’re not invited,” I say.
He puts a hand over his heart. “I’m wounded, Z. I’d invite you to any party. I’m sorry you don’t feel the same.” He winks at me, and I can’t tell if it’s a lighthearted wink or not.