Circle of Death

by Colleen Masters

  “You’re way off,” I reply sharply. “That’s not me.”

  “That’s you all over!” he crows, tugging me hard against his incredible body. “Come on. You don’t have to be shy, babe. I know it’s hard, saying what you really want out loud. Saying that all you want is for me to ride you dirty. Teach you what a good fuck is really like. Lucky for you, I can read your mind like an open book. And it’s one hot read.”

  I let out a surprised yelp as I feel my feet leave the forest floor. The fireside scene goes topsy-turvy as Devlin slings me over his broad shoulder, running a hand up the back of my toned, bare thigh.

  “Put me down, asshole!” I yell, pounding my fists against his leather-clad back. “What are you, a caveman or something?”

  “Come on, live a little!” he crows, carrying me off toward the thick forest. All around, his MC buddies are pointing and laughing, cheering him on as he bears me off into the darkness. He strides along quickly, covering ground. With every step, the sounds of the bonfire fade a little more. Where the hell does he think he’s taking me?

  “I mean it, Devlin,” I growl. “This is not what I’m here for.”

  “Sure it is. You don’t have to be coy with me,” he insists, that hand gliding over the firm rise of my ass. “Trust me, babe. I know exactly what you—”

  His words cut off into a groan as I cock back my knee and drive it into his gut. Finally, his arms loosen, and I tumble from his unwavering grasp. I dance beyond his reach as he straightens up, staring at me with a mixture of intrigue and awe. Plus a little indignation thrown in for good measure.

  “There,” I breathe, straightening my clothes. “You know, if I wanted a bunch of sloppy horseplay, I could have just gone to the frat house. What, don’t you know how to get a girl without literally throwing her over your shoulder?”

  “Little girl, I could land you from a hundred yards off just by looking at you the right way,” he grins, leaning back against a thick tree trunk and crossing his arms. “But, in my vast experience, most girls like getting swept of their feet. Or snatched off their feet, maybe.”

  “Not this girl,” I inform him.

  We’re off a ways from the rollicking party, just me and him. Away from the flickering, demonic flames, he certainly looks more like a real, human man. He’s still the most handsome person I’ve seen up close, that’s for sure. But he’s still mortal, and therefore, in theory, attainable. I watch as he produces a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lights up. With each drag, his sculpted features are illuminated in the darkness. And each time, I feel a tug of desire in the very center of my gut. How am I supposed to investigate this guy if I can’t stop staring at him?

  “So. Logan,” he says, exhaling a blue cloud of cigarette smoke, “You’re telling me that you brought that sexy little body all the way out here, to an island overrun with criminals and playboys, because you’re not looking for a one night stand with a dangerous, experienced older guy like yours truly?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” I reply, amused by his sense of humor, despite myself. “I just don’t think there’s anything particularly sexy about getting dragged back by the hair to some dude’s man cave. I prefer to get to know a guy, first. Or at least trade more than a few grunted phrases before doing the nasty.”

  He raises his scarred eyebrow at me, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a smile. “Well, well. Looks like I was mistaken. You’re not like the girls we usually get out here, are you?” he asks, his voice lusciously low.

  “Nope,” I say softly. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  “Fuck no,” he says, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “I’ve been getting a little bored of whiny college girls throwing themselves at me. Too fucking easy. You seem like more of a challenge. And I happen to like a little challenge.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you,” I laugh, planting my hands on my hips. “But if you’re trying to take on this particular challenge, you’re off to a rocky start.”

  My breath catches in my throat as storm clouds roll through Devlin’s dark eyes. I need to watch myself, make sure I don’t push this guy too far. Sure, he’s handsome and charming, but he also runs a gang of outlaws and criminals. I’m out on this island alone, for all intents and purposes. If something happened to me, no one would notice until it was way too late. Have to remember who I’m dealing with, here.

  “You know I could stroll over to that gaggle of girls who just rolled in and land any one I wanted, right?” he challenges me, crushing the cigarette beneath the heel of his steel-toed boot. “Hell, I could snag three of them at the same time and really have myself a party.”

  “But you’re not interested in the rest of the girls,” I point out, clasping my hands behind my back. “You’re interested in me.”

  “You’re a fuckin’ mind reader, babe,” he grins, closing the space between us.

  I back up against a wide birch trunk, flattening my back against the smooth wood. My heart beats wildly against its cage as Devlin comes closer. Unbidden, the image of him pushing me up against this tree and having his way with me springs to mind. I shake my head, dislodging the surprising image. I’m not usually one to get swept up in the heat of the moment. But then again, I’ve never encountered a moment—or a man—this hot before.

  “Why don’t you tell me what it is you are looking for, if not a stiff cock and a quick fuck in the woods?” Devlin growls, planting a hand just over my shoulder. There’s barely a foot of space between us, and it takes every ounce of my concentration to form a reply.

  “For starters...you mentioned a drink?” I say softly, lifting my face to his.

  Devlin throws back his head and lets out a bark of laughter. Slipping his thick, corded arm around my waist, he steers me back toward the bonfire in the clearing. “Finally. Something we can both get into,” he says. “Besides, you’ll need a little lubrication before you’re ready for me.”

  “Ew,” I say, punching him in the arm and biting back my smile.

  As we step back out of the forest into the light of the flames, my jaw nearly hits the leafy ground. All around the fire, the girls I showed up to The Club with are sprawled across the laps of MC dudes. Gone are any inhibitions they brought to the island with them. Kari has her tongue down the throat of some guy with a blonde crew cut, Brie is straddling the grizzled man who seemed to terrify her not moments before, and Ani is topless, grinding up against the most model-esque of the MC members. It’s like all of the girls have fallen under a spell or something.

  “Christ,” I mutter, “That didn’t take long.”

  “This place has an...intense effect on all the people who seek it out,” Devlin says, tightening his grip on my waist. “Except for you, right?”

  “You don’t seem too terribly bewitched yourself,” I reply, glancing up at him in the orange light.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he murmurs in my ear, letting his hands wander all over my body. “But it’s not The Club that’s got me reeling, babe. It’s you.”

  “Sweet talk,” I grin, daring to let my fingers glance against his hard chest. “You’re making some real progress, Devlin.”

  He tugs me firmly against his side, as if guarding me from the drunken, horny dudes that rove and stumble around the fire.

  “Here’s the first thing you should know about me,” he says, his voice low and hoarse, “I don’t do sweet talk. Perish the fucking thought.”

  For the first time, I notice the rough wooden bar built into the woods before us. I examine the setup as we make our way over. At first glance, the bar is little more than a long wooden slab propped up by some hewn logs. But behind it, obscured by some foliage, stand shiny industrial fridges and tools—real state of the art equipment. Turning back toward the fire, I see that it’s not haphazard at all, but a carefully constructed blaze arranged in a well-made, carefully disguised fire pit. All of the rustic touches around this place are just for show. I wonder if the owners swap out the aesthet
ic for every group that rolls in here; bonfires for the bikers, infinity pools for the coddled bankers, that sort of thing.

  “What’ll it be, you two?” asks the bartender, a bottle blonde beauty who happens to be topless. Naturally.

  “Whiskey neat,” I tell her.

  Devlin raises his eyebrows at me. “Whiskey? Christ. No girly drinks for you, huh?”

  “Not on your life,” I smile back.

  “Full of surprises, aren’t you? Make it two whiskeys,” Devlin tells the woman. “And make them doubles.”

  With a placid grin, she produces a bottle of incredibly expensive booze and pours us each a deep glass. My eyes pop open, imagining what those drinks must cost. I’m not in the practice of letting guys buy my rounds for me. Better start practicing now.

  “Aren’t we going to toast?” I ask Devlin, as he makes to shoot back the smoky booze in one big gulp.

  He looks down at me as though I’ve just spoken French. “Toast? Where the fuck do you think you are?” he laughs.

  “Come on. Here’s to...?” I prod him, swallowing a smile.

  Devlin looks me up and down, his gaze leaving trails of heat as it glances against my bare skin. “What are you doing, trying to make me jump through hoops for you or something?” he asks suspiciously.

  “Maybe,” I shrug. I’m having way too much fun with this assignment already. Holding the attention of a man like Devlin makes me feel powerful. Poised. In control.

  “Fine. Jesus,” he replies, raising his glass gamely. “Here’s to you, Logan. The strangest, sexiest girl I’ve run into on this rock.”

  “Now that, I’ll drink to,” I laugh, clinking my glass against his.

  The whiskey burns deliciously as it slides down my throat, warming me from the inside out.

  “Atta girl. Now come on,” Devlin says, catching my wrist in his strong hand and giving me tug away from the bar.

  “Where are you taking me now?” I ask, planting my feet.

  “You’re going to finish that whiskey and dance with me,” he replies, brushing a lock of black hair away from my face. “And don’t bother refusing. I’m done taking no for an answer.”

  I let Devlin tow me away from the group of girls and bikers gathered around the fire. My heart lodges itself in my throat as I see where’s he’s leading me—straight toward the sprawling, centuries-old fortress that has come to house The Club. I drain the rest of my strong liquor, jonesing for an extra ounce of liquid courage. I have a feeling that I’m going to need it.

  “Looking a little pale there,” Devlin remarks, glancing at my over his broad shoulder. “I thought you were a no-nonsense woman of the world, Logan. Don’t tell me you’re scared to see what this place is really all about.”

  “Not at all,” I squeak.

  “Good,” he replies, as we draw closer to the towering, stone structure. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you for the night.”

  The Club stands at the highest point of the island, surrounded on all sides by the thick, rocky forest. Part of me was expecting some dinky little lookout post, but this old building is far from little. It’s the size of an estate mansion, tall and broad. The Club towers over the tree line, looking down on the wild scenes of debauchery unfolding all around the island with approval. The front doors of the structure are flung open—the tall, arched doorway looks like a grinning mouth, ready to swallow me whole.

  “Here we go,” Devlin says with a wide grin.

  I look at his brooding features, those darkly unreadable eyes. Despite the fact that I’ve only just met him, and know full well that he’s a dangerous outlaw, I find myself trusting him to lead me through the night unharmed. There’s something in him that I recognize. Something I can have faith in, and maybe even understand. I only catch flickers of it, simmering beneath his dangerous demeanor, but I swear it’s there. Or maybe it’s just the booze and my suddenly overactive libido talking. Either way, he’s my companion for the evening. May as well give him the benefit of the doubt.

  We plunge through the wide-open doors of The Club, Devlin’s firm hand clasped tightly around my wrist. The stone tunnel we make our way through is dimly lit with torches mounted in sconces on the walls. A second set of heavy oaken doors reinforced with iron braces swims up before my barely-adjusted eyes. This false entryway must have served to keep enemies out during the Revolutionary War—and to keep inmates in afterward. But what do those imposing doors keep hidden now?

  A metallic glint catches my eye as the torchlight dances against a thin object Devlin produces from his cut. It almost looks like one of those fancy platinum credit cards. He extends the mysterious object toward the door and feeds it into an obscured slot. The heavy, clanking sound of a lock snapping open rings out through the dark passageway. That shiny sliver is a key card, I realize, as the second set of doors swing inward. I hold my breath, bracing myself for my first ever glimpse of The Club’s shrouded interior.

  Sensory overload slams into me like a ton of bricks, knocking the air from my lungs. It’s as though we’ve just taken a thousand-mile step from the woods of New England to the glitziest of Las Vegas resorts. The soaring mirrored ceiling above amplifies the already unbelievable sprawl of The Club below. An expanse of earthly delights stretches before us. Black Jack, craps, and poker tables are scattered about the main room, rivaled in number only with the spinning daises bearing gleaming stripper poles and undulating nearly-naked women.

  Smiling, Barbie-shaped cocktail waitresses roam the floor, bearing trays of champagne, plates of gourmet cuisine, and boxes of Cuban cigars. Sunken in the very center of the space is a shining dance floor, presided over by a lounge singer who would make Jessica Rabbit feel downright mousy.

  Though the woods just beyond these stone walls are populated by the MC members in residence here on the island, all sorts of men are crowded within the interior of this vice-ridden carnival. Business types with whitened teeth and tanned skin, slender Silicon Valley geniuses in black turtle necks, grungy musicians, slick mobsters—it seems that men from all walks of wealth have been drawn in by the siren song of The Club.

  I look over at Devlin Vile, my jaw hanging open in baffled wonder. But the most perplexing thing of all is that the Circle of Death president’s eyes are locked on my face. In the midst of this carnal, indulgent circus, filled with women far more conventionally beautiful than myself, it would seem that Devlin only has eyes for me.

  “Think you can handle it?” he shouts over the music, his dark eyes sparkling with intrigue and desire.

  I square myself against his staggering body, raising my chin defiantly. In answer to his question, I snatch a champagne flute off a passing tray and drain it in one long, bubbly gulp. The room is already starting to tilt on its axis as I lace my fingers through Devlin’s and pull him toward the teeming dance floor.

  “I guess that answers that,” he laughs, as we step into the mass of writhing limbs.

  I feel his firm hands on my waist as he spins me around to face him, drawing me tightly against his solid body. I gasp as he grinds his tapered hips against me, my arms falling around his shoulders. His cock is rock hard, pressing urgently against me as we fall into step. I look up into his intent, irresistible face, surprised and more turned on than I care to admit.

  “Looks like the real question is,” he growls, sliding his hands along the curve of my ass, “Do you think you can handle me?”

  “Devlin,” I breathe, daring to run a hand through his crop of jet black hair, “I can sure as hell try.”

  As the vixenish singer wails into a swelling, sexy rendition of “House of the Rising Sun”, I give myself over to the glorious, overwhelming moment. Between the liquor and the pulsing desire building in my belly, I can’t hold onto a single care or concern that came with me to this island. All I can think of is the feel of Devlin Vile pressed flush against me, the hard length of his swollen member grinding into me. My hips gyrate madly as the music rushes to a crescendo, the crush of people all around us whipping
and spinning faster and faster.

  Devlin grabs my hand tightly and spins me out, snapping me into the crowd with a mischievous grin. A full-throated laugh escapes my throat as he wraps me back up in his muscular arms. I press myself to his chest, collapsing into the solid weight of him. He holds me up as my body loosens, gives up its fight against decency and decorum. Before I realize that I’m doing, I take Devlin’s perfect, bearded face in my hands and raise my lips eagerly to his.

  The briefest spell of pleased surprise runs through him, giving way to a deep surge of lusty fervor. He wraps his arms around the small of my back, crushing me to him. His strong jaw works my mouth open, and his sure, expert tongue glides against my own. The taste of him is as intoxicating as anything I’ve poured down my throat this evening. I bury my fingers in his pitch black hair, letting my teeth close around his full bottom lip.

  He sucks in a sharp breath as I bite him, twisting my body around so that my back is pressed against his leather-clad chest. He lowers his firm lips to the long, bare stretch of my throat. A low groan rises from my mouth and gets lost in the rollicking music as he kisses along my neck, nipping at my pale, sensitive skin. His hands glide up along my torso, sliding along the silky fabric of my blouse with ease. I screw up my eyes in ecstatic pleasure as he cups my breasts in his capable hands, brushing his thumbs against my hardening nipples.

  Not a second goes by that I’m unaware of his rock hard manhood pressing against my ass. I’ve never had a one night stand in my life, never knew I could desire someone this much after a few short hours. But I know that if I don’t go to bed with this man tonight, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I spin back to face him and run my hands along his staggering cock. Need smolders in our shared gaze as I brush my fingers up and down the length of him, feeling him harden even further in my grasp. I feel myself become airborne as Devlin lifts me from the ground once more, carrying me out of the surging, roiling crowd toward a more private corner of The Club.