by Lee Taylor
He kept his gaze on her as he stood up. She moved to the other side, and they pulled the spread, blanket and top sheet off the end of the bed. She looked at the mattress, finding two handles on each side. Pointing them out, she said, “We can use those to tie me down.”
“And what do we use for rope?”
She laughed. “We can rip up the top sheet—and leave some money to pay for it.”
He thought for a moment. “I guess I’ve got something in my car we can use.”
He walked to the door and exited the room, and she wondered if he was going to drive away or come back. He reappeared a minute later with a roll of duct tape, his expression challenging.
Her mouth was dry as she looked at the tape, but she managed to say, “You’re in charge. Tell me what you want me to do.”
He waited so long to answer that she thought he still might back out.
Finally he said, “Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed.”
Was he testing her to see if she’d go through with it? Her hands weren’t quite steady as she pulled off her tee shirt and bra, then unhooked and unzipped her jeans. When she was naked, she lay down on the bed with a pillow behind her head. She had never done anything like this in her life, and she felt a strange mixture of fear and sexual excitement.
He stood over her, looking down at her body, his eyes bright. “Stretch out your arms and legs to the side.”
She did as he asked, already feeling more vulnerable. And the feeling increased as he wrapped her right wrist with the tape, then attached the other end to the handle on the side of the mattress.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she managed to say.
He swiftly did the same with other hand, then went on to do her ankles.
A little trickle of fear made her shiver as she moved her arms and legs as far as the tape would allow. Maybe she could have ripped herself free, but she didn’t want to do it. She wanted to find out what would happen.
He stayed where he was as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it away, and she stared at his broad chest with the scar angling through the dark hair. He kept his jeans on, but she could see from the bulge at the front of his fly that this was exciting him.
Her throat was so dry that she could barely speak, but she managed to say, “You’d better tape my mouth.”
“Why?”
“So you have complete control over me.”
“What are you doing, topping from the bottom?”
“That’s an expression you learned on the Windward?”
“Yeah.”
“An interesting way to put it. But go ahead and do it.”
His manner was grim as he pulled off one more piece of tape and pressed it over her mouth, making her nerves jump. What if he went too far? Could she get out a scream?
He took the other pillow from the head of the bed, raising her hips with a hand under her butt, and arranged the pillow so that her middle was thrust upward toward him, giving him total access to the most vulnerable part of her body.
He was frightening her and exciting her at the same time. She could feel wetness gathering between her legs. He touched her there, running a finger through the folds of her sex, collecting some of the slick moisture, then wiping his finger on her abdomen.
He could whip her now. For that matter he could take out a knife and cut her. Instead he sat down on the side of the bed and stroked her cheek, then her collarbone, working his way downward to her breasts, lifting and shaping them in his hands, making her nipples rise to tight peaks. He skimmed the very tips with his fingers, then took them between his thumbs and fingers, twisting and pulling on them, increasing her arousal so that she had trouble lying still.
Leaning over, he replaced one of his hands with his mouth, sucking on her, taking her nipple between his teeth, teasing her with small bites that alternated with the sucking motion, drawing a moan from her gagged mouth.
He raised his gaze to her face as he slid his free hand down her body, making a trip through her wet, swollen folds and pressing his finger into her vagina, slipping in and out, imitating the motion of intercourse.
She raised her hips toward him, silently pleading with him to stroke her clit. She was sure he knew what she wanted, but he ignored the plea.
He moved away from her, and she wanted to scream in frustration. Then she saw that he was standing up so that he could unbutton and unzip his jeans. He pulled them off, along with his briefs, freeing an enormous erection, and she knew this was turning him on as much as it was arousing her.
Leaning down, he played with her breasts again, making her writhe on the bed in frustration. Then he knelt between her legs and spread the lips of her sex, exposing her to his gaze.
“Lord, that’s a beautiful sight,” he murmured, slipping one finger into her again, twisting it with a maddening circular motion. “You’re all hot and creamy for me.”
She couldn’t speak, but she hoped her eyes told him how much she needed release.
He smiled down at her. “You’re right. Having you in my power is a learning experience.”
Gently, he stroked a hand up and down her ribs, then caressed her abdomen and ran his fingers through her pubic hair. Although his touch was light, she was so sensitized now that she felt like she might burst.
He continued speaking. “Do you need to come?”
She nodded and rocked her hips against the pillow.
“I could free one of your hands so you could show me what you do when you pleasure yourself. Would you do that for me?”
Her face reddened, the thought of doing something so personal in front of him filling her with embarrassment. But she nodded again.
“But I’d rather do this,” he said, kneeling between her legs
Lowering his head, he lapped at her with his tongue, slipping his finger into her again, stroking in and out as he sucked on her clit then caressed it with his tongue. Small tremors shuddered through her sex, tremors he must feel. He continued to work her with his mouth, bringing her up and up until an all-consuming climax rocketed through her.
While she was still coming, he shifted his position and plunged his cock into her, moving in a frantic rhythm, following her over the edge after only a few quick strokes.
He cried out, gathering her in his arms, and she yanked one of her wrists free so that she could pull the tape off her mouth, then circle his shoulder with her arm and hold him close.
He lowered his lips to hers for a long, hungry kiss.
“That’s what you wanted to do when you had me in your power?” she gasped when he raised his head. “Make me so hot I thought I was going to explode.”
“Yes.”
“I think it’s a good sign.”
He laughed, then sat up and twisted around so that he could untape her legs while she pulled her other hand free.
He came down beside her, holding her.
“You learned something about yourself?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“And you’re okay with what you found out?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“That . . . I’m the same as I was before the Windward. Well, more aware of the dark side of life, but the same man.”
“Good.” She swallowed. “I realized something about myself, too. Not just then, but as we got to know each other. I’ve had relationships before, and they never worked out. I think a lot of it was my fault. I was afraid to open myself totally to a man because deep down I was terrified of being dependent—like Mom.”
“You’re not her.”
“I know. But she was a lousy role model. Then I met you, and I knew everything could be different for me—if I stopped being afraid to open myself up.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Maybe I was testing myself too. Seeing how far I could open up to you.”
She found his hand and knitted her fingers with his. “Ben, I know there are people who would say we only met a few days ago, and we should wait to . .
. decide where we want to go from here.”
She felt him relax and knew she was giving him the reassurance that he needed, and perhaps she needed too.
“Promise me you’ll give us a chance.”
He swallowed hard. “I can do that.”
She rolled toward him, pillowing her cheek on his shoulder and holding on to him. “And I want you to know, I accept everything you are. Even the ghost stuff—or do you want to stop getting memories from the dead?”
He shook his head. “I’d like to stop, but if I can help people, I will.”
She held him even tighter. “If you want me there with you when you do it, I will be.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course.” That and so much more. But now she knew they had time to find out how much the two of them were going to mean to each other.
She wanted to tell him she loved him. But she wasn’t sure he was ready to hear that yet. Instead she snuggled against him. She knew that he still had doubts about himself, but she was here beside him now, and she knew that as long as they were together, they’d manage anything the future threw at them.
THE END
Afterword
Thank you for purchasing DARK POWERS, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.
If you enjoy my books, do me a huge favor. Go back to www.amazon.com, and please leave an honest review. Authors live and die by their reviews. The few extra seconds it takes are really appreciated. Thank you!
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If you enjoyed DARK POWERS, you may also enjoy other books in the
Decorah Security Series
To purchase On Edge (a novella and Decorah prequel) simply click here.
To purchase Ambushed (a short story) simply click here.
To purchase At Risk (a novel) simply click here.
To purchase Chained (a novella) simply click here.
Christmas Captive (a novella) will be published in October 2013.
To purchase Dark Moon (a novel) simply click here.
To purchase Hot and Dangerous (a short story) simply click here.
To purchase Decorah Security Collection (an anthology with Ambushed, Hot and Dangerous, Chained, and Dark Powers) simply click here
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PRAISE FOR REBECCA YORK
Rebecca York delivers page-turning suspense.
—Nora Roberts
Rebecca York never fails to deliver. Her strong characterizations, imaginative plots and sensuous love scenes have made fans of thousands of romance, romantic suspense and thriller readers.
—Chassie West
Rebecca York will thrill you with romance, kill you with danger and chill you with the supernatural.
—Patricia Rosemoor
(Rebecca York) is a real luminary of contemporary series romance
—Michael Dirda, The Washington Post Book World
Rebecca York’s writing is fast-paced, suspenseful, and loaded with tension.
—Jayne Ann Krentz
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A USA Today Best-Selling Author, Rebecca York is a 2011 recipient of the Romance Writers of America Centennial Award. Her career has focused on romantic suspense, often with paranormal elements.
Her 16 Berkley books and novellas include her nine-book werewolf “Moon” series. KILLING MOON was a launch book for the Berkley Sensation imprint. She has written for Harlequin, Berkley, Dell, Tor, Carina Press, Silhouette, Kensington, Running Press, Tudor, Pageant Books, and Scholastic.
Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. And her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series.
Many of her novels have been nominated for or won RT Reviewers Choice awards. In addition, she has won a Prism Award, several New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf awards and numerous other chapter awards.
Contacts
Rebecca York loves to hear from readers!
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BOOKS BY REBECCA YORK
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Copyright Information
Published by Light Street Press
Copyright © 2012 by Ruth Glick
Cover design by Patricia Rosemoor
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AFTERWORD
DECORAH SECURITY SERIES BY REBECCA YORK
PRAISE FOR REBECCA YORK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CONTACT INFORMATION
COPYRIGHT
* * * * *
THE HUNTRESS
By
Dorothy McFalls
* * * * *
Kindle Edition
Dedication
For the strong women I've been lucky enough to know and, sadly, the world has since lost. I have been forever changed.
Without them, I would have never had the courage to write. God bless you.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thank you for reading
Also available on Kindle
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Chapter One
Vega Brookes sighed and let her head sink deep into Butch Polsen’s pillow. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.
Butch was a hulk of a man with edges rougher than shattered glass, but damn, he knew how to touch a woman’s body. Stripped nude, he balanced on top of her with his battered, leather cowboy hat sitting at a crooked angle on top of his blond head. His blue eyes sparkled. He liked to be on top. It was a power thing for him.
Today, she wanted him on top, too. She’d spent most of the previous night chasing a drug pusher with an arsenal of guns who got his jollies putti
ng nasty holes in people and didn’t think bothering to show up for his own jury trial important. The slushy Detroit alleyways she’d chased him through had nearly ruined her favorite lace-up boots. And they weren’t cheap.
So when Butch pushed her onto his bed and climbed on top, she didn’t complain. Let him do all the work, she was tired.
At the moment, he was tracing a line with that hot tongue of his around her breasts until her nipples turned hard before working his way up her neck.
“Butch,” she whispered on a weighty breath, “do that thing with your fingers. That thing that makes me crazy.”
He raised his head and smiled. He had that look in his eyes, that sharp, assessing stare. Vega knew what it meant.
“Let me tie you up.” His hot breath caressed her neck.
“Butch—” The shrill chirp of her digital phone cut everything short, including her need to lose herself with him no matter how rough he liked to make things. With a push, she rolled him off her and slipped from the bed.
“Ignore it,” he growled.
“Can’t. Told Jack I’d be available.” She pulled her leather jacket from the chair, and her phone from its inside pocket.
“Jack!” Butch punched the bed.
“Yep?” she said into the phone. Standing in the middle of Butch’s one-room apartment not worrying about the uncovered windows or her lack of clothes, she scribbled a barely legible name and court date into her small notebook. “He’ll be easy to get. This is what, the third time I’ve had to bring him to court? I feel like a freaking nanny or something.”
But as long as the money was good, she’d happily bring in Lionel every day.
Lionel Wahl, aka “The Great Wall” because of his massive size, followed a rigid routine, including his attempts to give the law the slip. If she worked quickly, his pickup would bring her an easy paycheck. She uttered a quick goodbye to Jack—the owner of the bail enforcement agency that signed her paycheck—before snapping the tiny silver phone shut and jamming it back into her jacket pocket.