Sawyer began the dance of domination and submission, expertly moving from side to side, sending the leather tails along the submissive’s shoulders and bottom, turning her skin a deep red. The sub wasn’t moving away from the hard whacks of the flogger, she was arching into them. Her moans poured out through the air, indicating her pleasure.
Porter decided he needed to thank Sawyer later, because this sub didn’t just like pain, she got off on it. A perfect show for Kenzie. A horrible tease to watch and not experience it herself, when Porter knew she ached to. He lowered one of his hands to Kenzie’s sex, cupping her and discovering her soaking wet.
She moaned as he rubbed his fingers against her clit, slowly and seductively. He licked her neck, appreciating how she angled for him, inviting him to do whatever he wanted to. Yet all the same, proving to Kenzie, again, that she didn’t need pain to get off. Intimacy aroused her. That he could give her something more. Something she clearly had never experienced before.
The submissive’s loud moans drew Porter away from kissing Kenzie’s neck, and he noticed that Sawyer was now smacking the woman’s sex with the flogger. The thuddy flogger would provide a similar sensation to the woman being fucked. And her response was near immediate. With dark red skin on her shoulders and back, the woman screamed out, reflecting the rise of her climax. Sawyer reacted instantly, smacking harder and faster against the woman’s sex.
Porter mirrored the movement, going as hard and fast on Kenzie’s clit, swirling her into the rise of her climax. She shivered against him, and it took all of Porter’s control not to bend her over and take her now. “Are you going to come for me, beautiful?” he murmured in her ear.
Sawyer’s sub stole the moment by screaming so loud as she came undone. Porter stayed focused on Kenzie, always on her. She tensed in his arms, her muscles bunching, and her clit was so hard beneath Porter’s fingers.
“Yes, sir,” she wheezed.
He jerked his hand away, and he heard Kenzie’s soft curse, felt her knees go weak. He placed his mouth right by her ear and said sternly, “Orgasms are for good girls. That could have been you tonight on the cross. Too bad for the both of us, it wasn’t.” He sensed her go still in his arms, stiff. “I have patience, Kenzie. More patience than I think you are used to seeing in a Dom, but don’t defy me again. It will lead nowhere good.”
She snorted, and he spun her in his arms, only finding her glare. “Is this the time I apologize?”
“No.”
Shock rippled in her wide eyes. “You don’t expect me to apologize?”
“I only want to hear truthful things from your mouth.” He slid his touch across her warm cheeks, not blind to the way she leaned in to him, no matter how annoyed she was. “Don’t insult me by telling me an apology you don’t mean.”
Surprise lightened her features, and he did enjoy how much he shocked her. It meant he was doing things exactly as she needed him to do them. “So what now?”
“Now…” He stepped back and folded his arms. “You go home.”
She frowned. “You cannot be fucking serious?”
“Very serious,” he replied evenly. “Next time you walk through the dungeon’s doors, you best be horny enough to hump anything that walks.”
“I’m ready to hump anything now.” Her eyes slowly narrowed into slits, her voice growing tighter. “Why wait?”
He trailed a finger over her arm and, as expected, she shivered. So aroused now by the visual, and the refusal of an orgasm, she was wound up tight. Her features instantly heated, becoming dark and sensual. He grinned at her, quite loving the way she reacted to him. “See, kitten, that’s how I want you.” Needing me. Aching for me. Not refusing me. “Burning with desire.”
“You. Are. An. Evil…” He arched a brow, and she huffed. “Fine. Whatever. But don’t hold me responsible for either clawing off your face or jumping your bones the next time I see you.”
He winked. “I eagerly await either possibility.”
Chapter Six
By Tuesday morning, Kenzie wished it was the weekend all over again. She sighed at herself in the bathroom mirror above the white vanity, desperate for a do-over in which she received the BDSM she needed. Porter’s touch was confusing, at best. She kept thinking she should be annoyed that he’d cleverly punished her, leaving her more aroused than she was before she’d entered Club Sin. Somehow, all she could think of was how different she felt around him. How easy it was for him to make her mind shut off in the moments she was with him, simply falling into his glorious touches. How aroused she became in ways she hadn’t before.
If she didn’t know better, she might think that Porter was stealing her heart. She wasn’t blind to how different she acted with Porter. How safe she felt. How much she reacted to his touch. But she couldn’t forget there was the underlying truth between them that this was only an agreement. None of his affections were real. He wasn’t with her because he wanted to be, but because he had an ulterior motive.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, hating how easy it would be to fall into Porter, and even more so to trust him. His affection confused her, making her feel alive and protected. His Dominance put her in an extremely dangerous position.
Her heart had been broken enough, and it couldn’t manage any more daggers. The wounds were deep and they still bled. Opening her eyes, she scrunched some gel into her curls, then, leaving thoughts of Porter behind, she strode out of the bathroom. She moved past Gran’s bedroom, which Kenzie had made into her reading room. Something she knew Gran would’ve liked. It didn’t have much, just an oversized chair, with pictures of Gran everywhere.
The room was perfect, and it also held the only new furniture in Kenzie’s apartment. A lump began to form in her throat as she strode down the narrow hallway, entering the living room. From corner to corner, it was filled with Gran’s old knickknacks and antiques. Kenzie wondered often if the apartment needed a makeover, since the space didn’t reflect her personality, but so many of Gran’s touches remained.
She moved past the dark leather chair in the corner of the room by the window with the plants on the windowsill, noting to herself to water them later. Her focus drifted to the yellow-and-white afghan that Gran made Kenzie when she was eleven years old, and her steps faltered as she remembered the day Gran gave her that blanket—a day when the second dagger had entered her heart.
The wind flew through Kenzie’s hair as she rocked back and forth on the swing strung up to the big oak tree in her backyard. A year had passed since Joslyn’s death, a long year that seemed to have so many dark days.
She leaned her head back, embracing the wind brushing over her face as the sun beamed down on her. So many days she and Joslyn would swing here, with Kenzie being pushed and Joslyn laughing behind her. Kenzie swore she could still hear that laughter.
A loud bang echoed in the air and all the birds around the house scattered. Kenzie scanned the backyard, not seeing her mother anywhere. A sense of panic washed through her, but at least her mother was home.
Kenzie never told Gran how many times Mom left her alone to go on drinking binges. Sometimes she’d come home and Kenzie would help her get into bed or place the bucket under her when she vomited into it, instead of on the floor. No one knew the life Kenzie now lived. She’d never told anyone about the downward spiral that her mother had gone on after Joslyn’s death.
She dragged her feet along the grass until the swing came to a stop, then pushed off and headed toward the back door. Maybe Mom fell and hit her head, or maybe she was unconscious in the bathtub. A thousand things rushed through her mind as Kenzie entered the house, which was small, but Kenzie had always liked it. She also thought Mom had done a good job raising two girls on her own after Kenzie’s father skipped out on them.
Kenzie entered the kitchen, and only silence greeted her, so she headed down the hallway and peeked into the living room. Her mother wasn’t on either of the flower-patterned couches. Kenzie headed upstairs and passed by Joslyn’s
bedroom, which hadn’t been changed since she died. Kenzie never minded, and often went in there when her mother didn’t know. She swore it still smelled like Joslyn. Then Kenzie strode by her bedroom, where clothes were scattered all over the floor, and she made a note to pick them up after she checked on Mom. Whenever Mom was drinking, something as small as that could set her off. Kenzie hated the yelling. The scent of dust and musk led her to the end of the hallway and toward her mother’s room.
“Mom,” she called.
Silence surrounded her, so she hurried her steps, more worries rushing through her mind. Though as she entered the largest bedroom of the house with the four-poster bed, her mind went blank. Her eyes became frozen on a gun lying on the bed with her mother’s hand next to it. Blood drenched the white sheets, turning them a dark crimson, and her mother’s blond hair was now a deep red.
The metallic scent swept through Kenzie’s nostrils, then all that followed next was Kenzie’s scream.
Kenzie returned to the present drenched in coldness, wishing she could erase that memory from her mind. It seemed permanently fixed there. She remembered when Gran had brought the afghan over to the house shortly after the ambulance and police had arrived. Kenzie didn’t recall what she’d said in her phone call to the police, but she did remember what Gran had said to her: “I had made this for you to always keep you warm and safe. Now I know I made it for you for this day. Let this always feel like my arms wrapped around you, my sweet darling.”
Tears leaked from Kenzie’s eyes as she tore away from the blanket. Haunted, yes, she was at present being haunted by memories she wanted to forget. And it was all Porter’s fault—if he’d given her what she needed, this wouldn’t be happening.
Flickers of anger burned through her as she moved to the kitchen counter and grabbed the coffeepot, filling her to-go mug to the rim. Pushing away the heaviness in her soul, she added the top to her mug and then hurried out of her apartment, scared to look at anything. Maybe it was time to get new furnishings and pack up anything that stirred a memory. Or maybe Porter needed to give her a damn scene that would make her forget.
That seemed easier.
She hurried out the front door and headed down the long staircase leading to her bookstore on the lower level. A sense of peace washed over her as she entered the store, spotting the sun shining through the big windows at the front. While there were many painful memories, there were also so many happy memories in this store. Kenzie moved in with Gran after her mother’s death, and she gave Kenzie a life filled with love.
Her breathing was a little easier now as she approached the counter and noticed an envelope on the oak desk—a letter that hadn’t been there when she closed up shop last night. Confused, she reached for the letter and opened it, and that easy breath was now sucked out of her lungs.
I imagine you know who I am now. Take what I say seriously. There will be consequences. I’ll be expecting your phone call to the real estate agent by tomorrow night.
Kenzie dropped the letter as if it burned her, shaking from the inside out. Not only because she did take Adrik seriously, as it seemed that he had no intention of leaving her alone. Now it also appeared that he had the means to break into her bookstore without setting off the alarm.
He could have gotten into my apartment…
—
Wednesday afternoon couldn’t have come fast enough. Porter had been craving a beer all day long, and tonight was guys’ night at Mickey’s, a local pub in Vegas where all of the Club Sin Masters met weekly to shoot the shit.
Porter sat in his black Dodge Charger and zoomed his camera on the couple sitting in the small park that was only blocks away from the office building owned by the multimillionaire computer whiz Malcolm Holmes. Two weeks ago, Malcolm’s wife had come to Porter with suspicions of adultery. She’d been right on the money. Porter clicked his camera, taking pictures of Malcolm with his hand on the breast of a young woman in professional attire.
While Porter had mixed feelings about capturing the secret affairs of others, it also gave him a high. He loved the hunt, but he liked it even more when the person he tracked was proven to be innocent.
Malcolm was not such a case.
Through the investigation, Porter had learned that Malcolm was twenty years older than the woman he was currently devouring. The woman seemed to be anything but enjoying it. Porter supposed that sometimes money made someone ignore a lack of sexual attraction, since the money was attractive enough. It made Porter glad few people knew of his wealth.
He lived modestly, buying a Dodge Charger that wasn’t anything fancy but that suited him. His house wasn’t luxurious, but a good-sized home that he could raise a family in when the time came. His parents, who lived a retired life in Argentina, had been smart with money and had given him a trust fund, since he was an only child. Porter became a millionaire at twenty-one without doing a single thing. He still had that money, he just didn’t use it. He preferred paving his way with his hard work.
A couple more clicks of his camera had given him enough damning evidence to prove to Mrs. Holmes that her husband was indeed cheating on her. When Porter first got into the PI business, working under the best PI in Vegas, who was a friend of his father’s, he’d hated these types of cases. Breaking up marriages wasn’t a part of the job he preferred. Though after years of seeing men and women disrespect their marriage, he hoped that the wronged spouse eventually moved on and found someone he or she deserved, and a life built on honesty and integrity.
Four years back, Porter had formed his own company, Marshall Investigations, which investigated everything from crimes to cheating spouses to everything in between. He was proud of what the company had become. His name was well known now, and there wasn’t a case that he hadn’t gotten to the bottom of. But that was also due to the three PIs working for him, though his best clue finder was Chloe Nash. She made his job easier. For that, he paid her well.
He took one final picture of the couple getting up from their bench and straightening their clothes. Porter snorted, not understanding the stupidity of people. Cheating behind closed doors made sense. Cheating in public was just asking to get caught. Maybe that’s what Malcolm wanted.
They strode off down the stone pathway, and Porter put the camera back in his bag and then started up his car. The loud rumble of the engine was a sound that always made him smile. He put the car into gear and drove off. Streets flew by his window as he drove on the back roads to avoid typical Vegas traffic. When he made it onto the strip, the sounds and smells coming through his open window, and the hordes of people, delighted him.
Born and raised in Vegas, he loved this city.
He took a hard right onto one of the side streets and parked behind Kyler’s Dodge Ram at the curb. Within seconds, he was out of his car and rounded the corner, entering Mickey’s in only a few short strides. The scent of greasy food and the loud banter washed over him, and he couldn’t think of a better place to meet. The pub was the kind of place where peanut shells littered the floor and sports games played on the big-screen televisions.
The door shut behind him and he immediately spotted Kyler, Dmitri, Aidan, and Sawyer sitting on stools at a bar table. He was disappointed not to see Miles, but wasn’t surprised since Miles hadn’t been to Club Sin in weeks. The man worked harder at his construction business than anyone Porter had met before. He’d even heard Miles recently talking about selling his company and investing in businesses instead. Porter was sure Miles was very likely financially sound already. He suspected that Miles was tired of the grind and ready to get a personal life.
As Porter reached the table, Kyler mused, “He finally decided to join us.”
Porter hopped onto a stool next to Dmitri, grinning at Kyler. “Had some pictures to take.” He waved at the waiter and pointed to Kyler’s beer. The waiter gave a nod, retreating to the bar to get Porter’s drink.
Dmitri smiled. “Someone doing something they shouldn’t be?”
“Not
doing something, doing someone they shouldn’t be,” Porter retorted.
Loud laughter erupted as the waiter delivered Porter’s beer. Seeing that all the menus were gone, indicating the guys had likely ordered already, Porter said to the waiter, “I’ll take an order of the hot wings.”
“I’ll put your order in with the others,” the waiter replied.
As the waiter headed back to the bar, Porter examined Kyler, who couldn’t sit still in his seat. “What’s with you?” he asked.
Kyler stilled on the stool, bowing his head and drawing in a deep breath. “I have some news.”
“Good news, I hope?” Aidan asked.
A slow smile spread across Kyler’s face. “Ella’s pregnant.”
Silence.
Kyler scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m happy she is.”
Breaths of relief followed before congratulations were given. Aidan ruffled Kyler’s hair, giving a beaming grin. “Our Kyler is going to be a dad, hmmm?”
“Seems so,” Kyler replied, his eyes lit with an inner glow. “She’s only a couple of weeks, so let’s keep this to our inner circle. Ella doesn’t want to make it public until she’s passed the first trimester.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The other part of the news is we’re getting married on the weekend.”
Porter’s brows shot up. “This weekend?” Christ, he’d always known Kyler was impatient, but he had no idea he was that impatient.
Kyler nodded.
Sawyer asked with a low voice, “Not to put a damper on things, but isn’t she still married?”
Kyler turned to Aidan, who gave a nod and replied, “I took care of that. I went to law school with a judge in Savannah, so immediately after Ella’s ex signed the divorce papers, I sent them to the judge. Because of the circumstances with the abuse, he immediately granted the divorce.”
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