by Henry, Jane
“Don’t promise what you can’t deliver,” I interrupt. “You’re never going to be the most obedient anything.”
“I’ll do everything you say. I’ll even let you fuck me…”
“Whoa!” I stop her again. “What are you talking about, Sonya? You don’t get on my team by having sex with me. Is that how you think this works?”
“I think you took me and whipped me and had sex with me, and I think…”
“I think you wanted it,” I growl. “I think you asked for it.”
She stops arguing and just looks at me. Her gaze tells me everything I need to know. She wants this, bad. I’m willing to bend the rules, step outside the law to get what needs to be done, done. And so is she. The reason I’m having so much trouble handling this girl is because in some ways, it’s like handling a little female version of myself. She’s focused on her goal. She’s prepared to do anything to get it, and if I don’t let her join me, she’s going to put herself in more danger than I can save her from.
This does not please me in the slightest. I’d hoped I could discipline her into submission. But a girl like Sonya never really submits. She can be tamed, she can be redirected. She can even be subdued for a while, but in the end, she’s always going to be a handful.
“If you are on my team, I’m going to expect a lot from you,” I growl. “And if you step even a pinky out of line, I’m going to take a cane to you—or whatever else I like. You are going to be my girl, and you are going to be under my control. Understand?”
“Yes!” She practically squeals with excitement. “Thank you, sir! I promise you won’t regret this. Thank you!” She’s beaming. So damn happy. Goddamn it.
“Get your nose back in that corner, girl,” I growl. “Show me you can behave yourself while I sort things out.”
“Yes, sir!” She turns around, practically head-butts the wall putting herself back in the corner in her eagerness to prove her temporary, conditional, obedience.
My mind is already trying to work out how we’re going to do this. I’m going to have to clear this with command, somehow. I’m going to have to make this right.
The only upside to all this is that Brava and the rest of them will now fully believe I am what they think I am. They’re going to think Sonya is my little fuck toy. Even that horrible black and blue mark on her face is going to work in our favor in terms of cover.
I stand back and look at her. I want to put her in bed. I want to tuck her in and keep her safe from the world. But the hardest part of this is just going to be keeping her safe from herself.
Chapter Nine
Sonya
I stand in the corner of my apartment, making sure I look as obedient as I possibly can. What does obedience look like, though? I face the wall with my nose tucked into it and keep my shoulders erect like I’m in the service ready for inspection. The only difference is…well, everything. My pants are around my ankles and my ass throbs from the spanking he gave me.
My pulse races with the knowledge that what he’s done to me is so fucked up, and he hasn’t even apologized. The raw, unadulterated way he just does whatever the hell he wants excites me. He follows no one’s rules but his own. His personal code of conduct. And now he’s let me in on this, which is what I’ve wanted from the beginning, a chance to take down the traffickers for real, instead of pushing papers and playing the part of a glorified secretary.
“Turn around, Sonya,” he orders. “Eyes on me.” Obediently, I turn to look at him. I can’t quite wrap my brain around him being here, in my apartment, sitting on my threadbare loveseat. It’s incongruous somehow, like a king sitting at a child’s tea party. Though I keep my place clean and I’ve done the best I can furnishing it with second-hand furniture, it doesn’t fit with a man like Colt. He’s too big, for one. The loveseat he’s sitting on is meant for two, but he dwarfs damn near two-thirds of it. It sags under his weight. But it isn’t just that he doesn’t fit in here. It’s that the time I’ve spent with him has changed who I was, and returning here, to my place, feels wrong. He’s put me through things I’ve never experienced, never felt before, and being here is like a vivid reminder that I’m no more than a lackey with a badge.
He’s rolled his shirt sleeves up, revealing strong, corded forearms. I swallow. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, his piercing blue eyes focus on me. His hands are lightly folded, contemplative even, as he eyes me, and everything about him is bridled strength and control. A low pulse of need throbs low between my legs when I look at him, my body remembering the unabashed way he’s dominated me.
His lips twitch. I’m not sure what amuses him, so I tap my foot to keep the nervous energy coursing through me in check. If I do anything stupid and reckless, he won’t let me work with him, and I can’t let that happen.
“You look like a racehorse pawing the ground, ready for the race to start.” He shakes his head and his voice lowers, the deep resonance of it making my nipples furl. “Easy, little filly,” he chides. “Don’t jump the gun.”
I snort. “Mmm, filly. Sexy,” I say sarcastically, but it fucking is. My heartbeat races and the way he sits there, dominating my furniture and filling this room to bursting with his mere presence, while I stand apart from him half-naked and freshly spanked, is turning me on and he doesn’t even have to touch me.
“So kinky,” I mutter. “You need a saddle and a crop?” My cheeks flush. What the hell am I saying?
The blue of his eyes turns cloudy. I’ve only just met him, and I already know that look means danger. I shouldn’t be alone with him. I should be running for my life. He’s an agent with a badge who does whatever the fuck he wants, and he wants me. Silently, he unfolds his hands and crooks a finger at me.
Without conscious thought, I begin to walk toward him. It’s more like a shuffle since my pants are still lowered, but I’m grateful for the slower pace. I like him waiting for me. Before I reach him, he stands, unfolding himself from the couch and towering over me, and closes the distance between us. He’s an impatient man. He couldn’t even wait for me to shuffle over to him.
Reaching down, he lifts me up, holding me in one arm while he strips my pants off with the other. When I’m stripped from the waist down, he holds me to his chest and walks toward my bedroom. He bends down and places a gentle kiss on my temple. I close my eyes and let myself feel the warm, possessive touch of his lips on my skin, the only part of his body that isn’t hard and unyielding, a chink in his armor. I want his mouth on mine.
I lift my chin, welcoming him to kiss me, but he doesn’t give me what I want easily. He kisses the apple of my cheek, first the left, then the right. He’s walking me to my bedroom, and I know what that means. Arousal weaves its way through every inch of my body. My skin crawls with need, my pulse races. My hands look so little wrapped around his strong neck. He kisses my chin next and just as we hit the bedroom, his mouth travels to my neck. He suckles the tender skin, making me arch into him.
Lowering me to the bed, he cages me in, his large, powerful frame suspended over me.
“Take ‘em off,” he growls, as if the fact I’m wearing clothes is a betrayal. My hands fumble at my waist, and he helps me, strong, powerful fingers raking my top right over my head. He reaches behind my back to unfasten my bra, and when it doesn’t come undone in five seconds, he reaches for the straps and tears them off.
“That was a nice bra,” I protest.
“I’ll buy you a dozen nicer ones,” he quips. Now he’s ripping the rest of the bra off me with his fucking teeth.
“Savage,” I say approvingly.
“Don’t bait me,” he growls.
I want him to fuck me so damn bad, my body vibrates with need, but I want him all in. I want to see what he can really do now that I want this, now that we’re on the same team. I want him to make me forget my name and how to breathe.
“Bait you?” I ask. “I was merely encouraging you.”
His heated gaze swings to mine. “I need encouragement?” I can’t rep
ly as my breath is swallowed in a moan when he sweeps his tongue across my nipples, at once both torturous and delicious. He takes my nipple between his teeth and bites down. My hands fly to protect the sensitive skin, but he captures my wrists and pins them above my head so firmly I feel my pulse pound against his skin. He pulls my nipple fully into his mouth and sucks. My hips buck. I whimper when he lets go of one nipple only to torture the next.
Releasing the sensitive, hardened bud, he brings his lips to mine, but he’s gone too quickly, just a glimmer of a kiss before his teeth are at my neck. I gasp. He’s capable of anything, and I’m somewhere trapped between terror and exhilaration. He nips and licks his way from my neck to my collarbone, still pinning my wrists so hard I can’t move. His whole body pins mine in place, orchestrating every second of this delicious torture. When he reaches the tops of my breasts, he rakes his teeth along the tender skin.
“Don’t,” and I’m not even sure why. I don’t want him to stop. His free hand crashes against the fullest part of my thigh, leaving a bright red handprint. He rolls me slightly to the side and slaps my ass once, twice, three times, without a word. He doesn’t need to speak, though. I get the message loud and clear. Colt does whatever the fuck Colt wants.
I swallow a moan and if I could writhe beneath him I would, but he’s pinning me down so tightly I only pulse beneath him a little. His mouth comes to my ear and he orders, “Spread your legs. Keep your hands exactly where I put them. If you move them, my belt meets your ass.”
He releases my wrists and I keep them in place, watching his deliberate moves while holding my breath. He scowls at my knees. The five second delay is apparently pushing the limit on obedience. His eyes swing to mine while he reaches for the belt buckle. I spread my legs wide open, and watch as he inhales and groans, as if the scent of my arousal feeds him, but I’m intent on the way he pulls the leather belt through the loops of his pants. Tugging it loose with one firm pull, the leather slithers like a snake through grass, before he tucks the buckle in his hand and wraps it around his fist, leaving a dangling strap. He snaps the leather against my pussy. I’m so shocked I only gasp, but when he lifts his hand to strap me again, I tense and involuntarily close my knees. The leather meets the inside of my thighs, painful stripes to remind me to obey. Shaking, I part my knees.
“Good girl,” he says, slapping at my pussy again with the leather. I flinch, but damn, my pussy throbs. My racing heart warms at good girl, and I spread my knees further.
“Very good girl,” he says, flicking the leather again. I whimper. He places the coiled leather next to me, a reminder that if I do anything short of obeying him, I’ll feel the sting of his belt. The scent of leather mingles with my arousal. I shiver as he positions himself between my legs, vulnerable to his wicked mouth. He bites the fullness of my thighs, and my back arches, but he holds my hips in place. Red half-moons and marks of his belt grace my inner thighs when he’s done with me, and my pussy throbs so badly it’s painful.
He places a warm, heated kiss to my pussy, and my clit pulses. I need more. I want him closer. I need to feel his mouth on me. His eyes meet mine as he strokes between my thighs, priming me for his tongue. I swallow and bite my lip and then he begins. Slow, wicked, heated torture. He eats at my pussy hungrily and I raise my hips, eager for more. He lifts his mouth and growls against my swollen sex.
“Greedy little girl wants her daddy’s mouth?”
My pussy clenches at his words and I whimper.
“Please,” I beg.
“Are you going to be a good girl?” he asks, his mouth hovering over where I need it.
“Yes,” I pant. “God, yes.”
He nods and rewards me with a quick swipe of his tongue. I lift my hips, wanting more, but he won’t until he’s ready. He brings his fingers to my pussy and plunges one in my core, his thumb circling the tight ring of muscle at my ass. I squirm. This is wrong, I think, even as my body teems with need. But hell, the man does what he wants and doesn’t care about right or wrong. “What happens if you move your hands?” he asks, raising a stern eyebrow.
“You’ll spank me,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush.
He nods. “With what?”
My words are jumbled and barely coherent. “With your belt, daddy,” I breathe.
He moves his mouth just above my pussy, the heat making my clit throb. “Do you want daddy’s belt, baby?”
“I want daddy’s mouth,” I groan.
He gives me a wicked, devilish grin. He’s beautiful when he’s angry; he’s damn near blinding when he smiles. I smile at him. “Please, daddy,” I whisper.
“If you’re close to coming, you say daddy.”
“Daddy,” I say immediately.
His eyes crinkle at the edges, he takes my clit in his mouth and sucks hard. I’m on the cusp of losing it, so close to shattering in two and he keeps on licking and suckling.
“Daddy,” I repeat, louder this time, my voice hoarse.
Still, he licks and sucks. I close my eyes. I can’t control this. Can’t stop it.
He plunges a finger into my core and pulses while he laps my clit. He nods, permission to climax.
“Daddy,” I groan, just before an orgasm splinters through me. My pulse races, waves of ecstasy course through me. I come so hard I can’t think or breathe, but he works me until the last spasm ripples through me. He’s tearing off his clothes now, and I watch in hazy arousal as he strips naked and gets ready to take me.
“On your knees,” he orders. I flip to my belly and get up on my knees.
“Chest down,” he says with an encouraging slap to my ass. I groan and press my chest to the bed. “Spread them.”
I spread my legs obediently. He grasps my hips and thrusts into me, impaling me with his swollen cock. He fills every inch of me, and my walls clench around his cock.
“Fucking beautiful,” he approves in my ear. He winds his fingers around my hair and tugs my head back so hard my eyes fly closed. “Whose cunt is this?”
“Yours, daddy,” I moan.
He slams into me and tugs my hair again. “When do I fuck this cunt?”
“Whenever you want, daddy.” He pounds me again, every thrust pushing me toward orgasm again.
“Where does daddy fuck this cunt?”
“Wherever daddy wants.”
He approves because he lets go of my hair and lowers his body to mine, thrusting and moaning. His mouth goes to my ear. “That’s right, baby. You’re mine. Daddy’s little plaything. Mine to fuck. Mine to punish. Mine to own.”
I let out a shuddering gasp as a second orgasm claims me. His seed lashes into me as he groans. I fall to the bed, exposed and replete. He kisses my shoulder, rolls over, and pulls me onto his chest. I like this. There are sheets and clothes all over the place. We’re sweaty and breathless but sated. His arms tighten around me.
“This is dangerous territory we go to now,” he says. And I know then that the entire time he fucked me, he had a purpose in mind: he wanted to remind me who I belong to. To remind me he owns my obedience. So he can protect me.
“It is,” I say, trailing a finger along the dark, coarse hair on his chest. I trace his shoulders and neck, then glide the side of my finger along the scruff at his jaw. “You’ll protect me.”
His voice tightens. “Only if you do what you’re fucking told.”
“We’ve been over this,” I remind him.
“Mmm,” he grunts. “If fucking Brava even looks at you, I’ll blind him. If he touches you, he loses a hand.”
“Could get a little messy,” I mutter.
“Fuck messy.” He sighs. “I have to take you back there. It’s the only way.”
I nod. I know it. And though part of me cringes at going back, I want to take them down, and I want to do it in the most expedient way possible.
“We’ll have to convince them you’re my little fuck toy,” he says.
I nod. “I could get into that role,” I quip.
He laughs and shakes
his head. “I’m serious, Sonya.”
I swallow. “So am I.”
“Not only that,” he continues. “But I have to convince them I’ve broken you. Trained you. That you’re ready for the market.”
I nod my head. I didn’t get to this stage of my career without knowing how this has to play out from here. “I know,” I tell him. “That could be a little trickier.”
The smile fades and he takes my chin between his fingers, making me meet his gaze. “I have my methods,” he says, all stern daddy. A shiver slides through me.
I swallow and try to nod, but I can’t because he’s still holding my chin. “You do,” I say, then I make him a promise. “But I’ll be your good girl.”
Chapter Ten
Colt
She’s promising to be a good girl. Somehow, I doubt she even knows what that is. Sonya is rebellious to the point even the agency took note. I checked her file, and she has a marker on her file not to promote her until she settles down and shows she can follow orders. They want to see obedience out of her. I’ve managed to get it, but I doubt they’d like my methods. Spanking and fucking subordinates into submission is frowned on pretty much everywhere, but right here, right now, it’s my way of saving her life.
And I can’t say I don’t love every bit of it.
Taking her back to that basement is the last thing I want to do. Every male impulse I have is telling me to get her out of this dubious apartment and get her to my place. Look after her. Treat her like daddy’s little princess.
But that isn’t an option we have. I have to take this woman I’m starting to… can I even admit it to myself? Love? Yes. Love. I’ve only known her a day or so, but the idea of losing her already makes my stomach clench. She’s mine, dammit. Mine to protect. I have to pick her up and I have to take her back to one of the most dangerous places in the city.
She looks so pleased with herself, curled up with my cum dripping from her pussy. She’s mine. I’ve made her mine so completely that if anyone else ever lays so much as a finger on her, they’re going to lose their whole arm.