“Worried?” She laughs. “About me?”
My brows fly up. “That’s funny?” I shake my head. “You do realize some crazy psycho killer is after your boyfriend, right?”
She studies me, long and hard. “So you thought you’d scare my receptionist into breaking into my apartment to save the damsel in distress?” It sounds fucked up when she says it like that.
“Something like that.”
“Honorable.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” I roll my eyes. “Won’t happen again.”
She inches closer, her bare arm touching mine. “Why are you so upset with me, soldier?”
“I’m not.” What do I care if she ignored me? Why should I give a shit she got hot and sweaty with her boyfriend on the dance floor? I’m just the guy she pity-fucked. End of story.
“Yes.” Her hot breath beats against my neck. “Yes, you are.”
It’s sick and crazy and wrong, but my cock is wide awake, twitching and aching for the one girl I can’t have. The one chick I don’t want to leave in the morning.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, in need of a distraction.
She tilts her head. “About what?”
“I read your sister’s note,” I admit, aware she might slap me. Or worse, never want to talk to me again.
Nothing.
Say something.
Still nothing.
“I didn’t mean to…” Snoop around? Stick my nose in business that doesn’t concern me? Act like an asshole? A little too late for that, isn’t it?
She waves it off. “It’s okay.”
I squint. “Come again?”
Her eyes grow distant, cold. “I’m not mad at you.”
“You aren’t?” She should be.
Dasha shrugs. “I already told you about my sister. It’s not like I kept her death a secret.”
True. But a suicide note is deeply personal. “I had no right to—”
“It’s okay.” Her voice is sharp, warning me to drop it. “Really.”
Moments ago, I was mad at her for being Deveraux’s. Now I feel like a complete asshole for invading her privacy. Great. Just great.
Songs come and go. Minutes fly by, and neither of us speaks. Then, when I can’t take the silence anymore, I draw a deep breath and say, “She really loved you.”
She looks up, somewhat confused. “Sorry?”
“Your sister,” I half-whisper. “She looked up to you.”
Fresh pain hardens her face. “She shouldn’t have.”
I raise a brow. “Why not?” I point my head at her. “You’re beautiful, strong, smart…Every girl would idolize you.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she grumbles, arms crossed. “I was a rotten sister. And no one should ever idolize me. Okay?”
Self-loathing and regret—two other things I recognize from my own experiences. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
Her bitter laughter makes my heart ache. “You don’t know anything about me, soldier.” She pushes the laughter back down. “Trust me when I say not everything that’s pretty on the outside is equally gorgeous within.”
What the hell is she saying? That she’s a bad person? I scan her pretty face. “You—”
“Are we interrupting something?” Deveraux looks back and forth between us, his expression hard and cold.
Dasha gives him her sweetest smile. “We were just admiring your new club, babe.” She gestures at the dance floor filled with Venetian masks and horny guys and girls. “It’s one of a kind.”
“It is,” Angela chirps in. She holds Deveraux’s hand, completely oblivious to the fact his girlfriend stands right across from her.
Deveraux nods. “It’s a great location.” His gaze darts from Angela to Dasha. “Angela hasn’t seen the upper floors yet. Let’s give her a tour.”
Dasha smiles. “Whatever you want, babe.”
“That’s my girl,” he says, lacing his free fingers through hers.
What I want is to order a drink and throw my AA medallion into an abyss. Too fucking bad Deveraux has other plans. “Boulder?” He looks over his shoulder. “You coming?”
“Are you ready?”
Shadow
Forty minutes till the curtain drops.
Are you ready?
I am.
Buckle up, I’m going to take you on a ride to the madhouse. It’ll shape your dreams for the rest of your fucking life.
“Not kissing her, not touching her—fucking torture, that’s what it is.”
Markus
What was it Justice Potter Stewart said about hardcore porn in the early sixties? Ah, right. “I know it when I see it.” A vague statement like that, so subjective and very un-judicial, used to give me a hard time back in college. I kind of expected more from our supreme court than such a highly personal definition.
Moving through the fourth-floor hallway of Deveraux’s club, I’m inclined to give Potter a break. Moans fill the heated air. Naked women and men, wearing nothing but those goddamn masks, roam about. Couples fuck with doors wide open. It’s hardcore and porn. I too know it when I see it.
With knots in my belly, I follow the three to the room at the end of the hallway. I’m no idiot. Giving Angela a tour was code for a threesome. Like the one in the cave. Except—my gaze falls on Dasha’s bare back—this time it won’t be a friend of Angela’s sharing Deveraux’s cock. It’ll be Dasha.
“Wait.” I move between Deveraux and the door. “Let me search the room first.”
His gaze moves between the two women. “Hurry.”
Pushing the door open, I swallow the bile rising up my gullet. I’m here for Shadow and to make sure Deveraux survives his Miami trip. What do I care whom he fucks?
The suite—a large square room reminding me of the chambers of past kings and queens—is clear. No one hides in the walk-in closet, the bathroom, or under the bed. There are no poisonous animals in the bed either.
“Good to go,” I assure the three, brushing past them and out of the room.
“Boulder.” Deveraux stops me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Isn’t it obvious? “I’ll wait outside.”
His eyes widen. “The hell you will.”
“Excuse me?” He can’t expect me to watch. That’s—
“You’re staying.” His jawline tenses. “I’m not going to take any risks after everything that happened.”
I could argue with him. I fucking should. But the fucked-up part is, he’s right. Gleb died while he fucked Lady in Red. If Shadow truly wants Deveraux, he’ll find a way past me and in here.
“Come on.” He gestures at the red sofa. “Sit with me.”
Frustrated and pissed like hell, I fling myself down. I mean it’s not like I have much of a choice, right?
Dasha stands by the window, looking down at the ocean.
Angela fiddles with the iPod in the docking station, zapping through countless songs. She finally decides on “Often” by The Weeknd.
“Do you like it?” she asks, seeking Deveraux’s approval.
The motherfucker leans back, grinning like a little bitch. “Do you know what I’d really like?”
Angela bites her lower lip. “Tell me.”
Deveraux eyes Dasha. “I think you already know.”
So do I, by the way. You don’t have to be a mind reader to catch the meaning behind Deveraux’s smoky voice, the way he adjusts his pants.
Angela—a quick study—flashes him a smile. Then she moves to the window—to Dasha.
A smug grin on his face, he meets my gaze. “Lean back and relax, Boulder.” He winks at me. “I promise you’ll like what you see.”
What I see, huh?
What I see is this: Angela trailing kisses down Dasha’s bare back. Dasha staying still, not moving an inch. Angela lacing her fingers through Dasha’s, guiding her back to the bed. Dasha following without any objections. The zipper of Dasha’s dress pulled down. The fabric drops to the floor. She’s completely
naked—no panties, no bra—just the softest porcelain skin I ever sank my teeth into.
I can’t help it. I’m hard just looking at her.
Angela moves backward, descending onto the bed. Holding onto Dasha’s hips, she pulls her between her legs and kisses her lower stomach.
Deveraux stills next to me. His eyes—the eyes of a predator about to go for the kill—are glued to the women.
I wish I could say I’m better than him, but when Dasha scrubs her fingers through Angela’s hair, pulling her away from her belly and going down for the hottest hellfire kiss ever, I’m a goner.
Breathless, Angela looks up at the goddess. Her eyes burning with desire. This might have started to please Deveraux, but Angela’s goals have changed. She’s in it for her own fucking pleasure, and that’s fucking hot.
The brunette darts her tongue out, tasting what I know to be sweet and mind blowing. She licks her—belly to pussy and back.
Dasha’s head falls back. She moans, softly, relishing the sensation Angela causes her.
“Told you, you’d like it.” Deveraux nudges me. “And you haven’t seen half of it.”
He watches them a little longer—Dasha fisting Angela’s hair, Angela kissing her flat stomach. Then he unbuckles his belt and addresses his fuck-buddy assistant. “Fuck her, Angela. Fuck her now.”
Hungry blue eyes meet his. She throws us a devilish smile. And then…then we enter the realm of unfiltered, uncensored lust.
Angela’s hand moves up Dasha’s leg, spreading her farther. She nibbles on her hipbone, gently stroking her pussy front to back.
My cock rushes with blood, swelling painfully. God, I’m so fucking hard I feel like I’m about to explode in my pants.
Unlike me, Deveraux has no intention of fighting it. His dick is out in the open, enjoying several hard strokes. I should probably be disgusted or embarrassed. But the ugly truth is I’m jealous. Jealous he doesn’t have to hide what he wants. Enraged he could walk right up to them and play along.
Sick, I know. True nevertheless.
Deveraux grunts, tightening his grip around his dick. “I said fuck her,” he barks. “Just fuck her.”
Angela’s hand finds the hollow of Dasha’s knee. She pulls her leg up on the bed. A fraction of a second later, she’s sucking her clit like crazy.
Dasha’s nails dig into Angela’s shoulders, her hips moving to the rhythm of Angela’s tongue. It doesn’t take long until the goddess is in control, fisting the other girl’s hair, riding her face like a rodeo horse.
They break the connection long enough to get Angela out of her clothes.
Dasha bites Angela’s hard nipples, then pushes her back onto the mattress and suffocates her face with that sweet pussy of hers. She knows what she wants, and she fucking takes it—no shame, no guilt, no fucking regret.
I swear if I wasn’t falling for her before, I would now. There’s nothing hotter than a woman who knows what she wants—in life and in bed.
Deveraux’s breathing is hard, his eyes never straying from the two women fucking each other for him. “You want her, don’t you?”
Lie. “Yes.” What’s the point in lying? My dick is steel, and he can see it.
Deveraux’s head falls against the sofa as he applies more pressure. Strokes his length harder. “You can play along if that’s what she wants,” he chokes out, his mind in a frenzy. “But you can’t touch her.” His gaze shoots to me. “Understand?”
I won’t play along. Yet I nod.
“Grab the chair,” he orders me. “Put it near the bed and sit down.”
And because I’m a complete bastard, I do what he says. I pull the chair closer to the bed and sit my aroused ass down.
Dasha is still fucking Angela’s face when Deveraux steps out of his pants, drops his button-down shirt, and moves to join them.
He climbs into bed with them, immediately claiming Dasha’s tits from behind.
I fight the urge to slam his head against the wall and close my eyes instead. Her tits are the finest I ever held in my hands—a bit more than a handful, firm, and fucking delicious.
“Look at us,” Deveraux orders.
I yank my eyes open and burn at the sight of him inside Dasha, fucking her from behind.
She’s on all fours, caging Angela beneath her. Deveraux’s grip on Dasha’s hip is tight. He thrusts into her so hard and fast, I’m afraid he’ll break her.
Angela sucks Dasha’s tits, rubbing the goddess’s clit with three fingers.
Every guy on planet Earth fantasized about a threesome at some point in his life. Me included. Yet I never imagined I’d be turned on watching one go down before me. But I am. Turned on as fuck. And at the very same time, I’m jealous as hell.
“On your back,” Deveraux orders, pulling out of Dasha.
I swear I hear her wince. From pain, or because he took his dick away? I can’t fucking tell.
She lies next to Angela. Angela, who rubs her own pussy now. Angela, who moans like crazy. Angela, who never takes her eyes off Deveraux.
The same Deveraux who climbs on top of Dasha. The same Deveraux who kisses the goddess—hard, merciless, possessive. The same Deveraux who pushes his dick into Dasha’s pussy, making her eyelids flutter.
I made her eyelids flutter. I made her scream and moan. I made her come alive in my fucking arms. And hell, I want it again. I want her again.
It’s almost as if she heard my pleas. Her eyes find mine, and when she moves her hips, meeting Deveraux halfway, it’s my name coming out of her mouth.
Deveraux should be pissed. He should be jealous, like me. He isn’t. “Do you want to fuck Boulder?” he asks her, pushing harder. Deeper.
She nods.
“Show me how bad.”
Dasha’s movements become needy, frenzied. She fucks him back with an urgency that’s heart shattering.
A guttural grunt comes out of my mouth. I swear I can’t…I fucking can’t stop watching them, dreaming it’s me driving her to ecstasy, wishing it was my cock inside her tight, gorgeous pussy.
Angela nibbles on Dasha’s tit when the goddess grabs her chin and forces her mouth onto Deveraux’s.
It doesn’t take long until America’s Favorite Son’s appetite for Angela awakens. He finally pulls out of Dasha, thrusting into his mistress.
And Dasha?
Dasha is on her feet, coming at me like a woman on a mission.
“What are you doing?” I ask as she secures my hands on the chair.
“Whatever you do, soldier,” she looks at Deveraux, “keep your hands off me. You understand?”
I need to stop this. Whatever the fuck this is. She just fucked her boyfriend, and now…now she’s unzipping my pants, freeing my—
Fuck!
“Dasha, what—”
Her lips wrap around my cock. Her hand finds the spot at my balls, the one that makes the best of us forget who we truly are. She sucks me. Hard. Merciless. Like a lollipop she needs to finish off.
I forget her boyfriend fucks Angela across the room, am oblivious to the brutal reality that her lips and pussy aren’t mine. For fuck’s sake, all I do remember is to keep my hands off her, and that takes everything I have.
I hold onto the chair, digging my nails into the wood, praying for strength to withstand the temptation.
“Look at me,” she says, coming up to straddle me.
“You’re killing me,” I whisper as she takes my cock into her heavenly kingdom.
Dasha moves slowly, deliberately.
Her forehead meets mine, and I’m dying to kiss her.
She won’t let me. Instead, she licks my lower lip, pulling back every time I attempt to claim her, taste her. “Don’t touch,” she warns again.
This isn’t fair. Not kissing her, not touching her—fucking torture, that’s what it is.
Dasha holds onto my shoulders, riding faster and faster.
Never in my fucking life did I feel so out of control. My cock thrives with the sweetest pleasure and
burning heat.
And when Dasha whispers my name, I can’t stop myself.
Need moves my hands to her ass. Ecstasy forces me out of the chair. Something foreign, growing in my aching heart, silences Deveraux’s warning.
“What are you doing?” she asks, eyes wide with…fear? Desire? Terror? Lust? All of it.
I answer her with a kiss so deep it makes the whole world gray in comparison. Let Deveraux see us. Let him choke on the reality that she moans my name when he fucks her. Let him watch me fuck his goddess. I. Don’t. Care.
I slam her back against the wall and thrust my cock into her. So hard, she’s going to have bruises when I’m done with her. She’s going to—
“Boulder.” Deveraux yanks me back.
I’m ready to do whatever it takes to stay inside Dasha. To have her for me and me only. I’ll fight him if I have to.
The expression on Deveraux’s face isn’t one of a man ready to fight over a girl. It’s that of a man who faced a fucking demon. “We have to go downstairs. Now.”
My lips part. I’m not going anywhere. Not until she breaks apart in my arms. He knows it. It’s why he flashes me the screen of his phone.
Viktor: SOS!
“Stop making excuses, little bitch.”
Markus
Once the message sank its fangs into my soul, I didn’t lose any time. I pulled out of Dasha, put my pants on, and sprinted down the stairs.
Deveraux followed. He felt he was safer with me. There was no time to argue, so I just nodded.
Now we stand in front of the massive wooden door leading to the ballroom. There’s no music, no commotion. Instead—
Remember that annoying-as-fuck voice in the Scream movies? For those who never indulged in teen horror, it’s a distorted mechanical voice, asking its victims random questions about all sorts of horror flicks. If they answer correctly, they live. If not, they die.
The very same voice is what we hear right now. “Did you fuck her?” it asks.
“No,” someone whispers.
Spine-chilling screams follow.
“What the hell is going on?” Deveraux asks, face pale, jaw tense.
Shadow Page 24