by Asha Daniels
She was panting, her chest heaving, and she kept her eyes open as he positioned the tip of his cock at her cunt. “Yes. God, yes.”
Cutter thrust the entire length of his dick inside her pussy, holding his breath as his cock throbbed, swelling and filling her. Sweat beaded along the back of his neck and he pulled out, slamming into her again. And again.
Moaning, she jutted her hips back, meeting every savage thrust, her mouth drooping, her eyelids lazy. “Damn. Fucking huge.”
He moaned and continued fucking her until his shaft was coated with her juice. Pulling out, he gave her a commanding look before shoving his cockhead into her asshole.
“Fuck!” Slapping the glass, she rose onto her tiptoes, the pain evident by her flushed face.
He was shaking, every muscle tense as the desire swept through him. Unable to hold back, he thrust the rest of his cock inside, holding back a roar as the feel of her heat, the way her muscles constricted around him was almost perfect. He’d waited far too long.
“Yes. Fuck me! Harder!” She wiggled as he drove in and out, the force pushing her stomach against the cheap plastic counter.
Cutter moved into a perfect rhythm, shoving every inch of his cock deep inside. He was on fire, current jetting through his blood, every cell and he wanted to be brutal. He needed to be the savage lurking deep inside.
And so, he continued fucking her.
She kept her position, her body shaking as he drove in deeper. Faster.
He could no longer hear anything but echoes in his ears, the pumping of his racing heart. As the climax rushed up from his tense legs, pushing into his groin, he threw his head back and allowed a single moan.
“Yes!”
When he was finished, he pulled away, now disgusted with his actions. He removed the condom, tossing it into the trash can and washed his hands, every action methodical.
She wiped her mouth and reached for her dress, a smile remaining. “You want to do this again sometime?”
After reaching for a paper towel and taking his time drying his hands, he addressed her question. “You were satisfying, but we will never see each other again nor will you attempt to contact me. Do you understand?” He anticipated anger, even rage. When she blinked several times then nodded, he touched her face, rubbing his thumb across her mouth, gathering her scarlet lipstick.
The only gentle touch he knew or gave a shit about. After all, he wasn’t a man any woman would ever get close to. If she did, she could die.
Chapter 2
“Heard you were a little rough on an innocent man.”
Cutter walked into his study, easing onto the leather chair. “The asshole got too close. He was drinking and driving. That sure as shit isn’t innocent.”
“Uh-huh and point taken, but you need to control your anger.”
The reminder was perhaps justified. “What do you need, Mr. Gammon?”
“Right to the point. Business as usual. I need you on an assignment and before you say anything, I know you’re already on one, but this ranks,” Mr. Gammon stated. “We have a young woman in trouble and Daddy’s a big player.”
A big player? Weren’t they all, at least in their minds?
Cutter exhaled, remaining silent as certain demands were barked into the phone. He’d been called on a Sunday morning about a protection detail and one he had no desire to accept. He was still on the job with the governor, at least as far as he knew, incident aside. Jeff Gammon had a weary tone to his voice, as if berated into taking the job and the client. A damn girl? Had he heard Jeff correctly? He processed the information before delving any further. “Her life is in imminent danger?”
“Without a doubt. I need you on this one. You’re the only man for the job and I know exactly what you’re going to say, but I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important.” Jeff continued with the particulars, keeping the information short and sweet.
Yeah, Jeff sure as shit knew what was on Cutter’s mind. To ask this was pushing every boundary. He listened to the additional details and realized almost instantly the order had come from a higher place of authority or serious money had changed hands. He’d never seen his boss sweat or heard any discord in the man’s voice.
He did today.
“What about the governor?” Cutter asked, almost casually even though he already knew the answer.
“Already reassigned. The man is in good hands. Jasmine is quite the celebrity; time is of the essence. The Press have been calling her father’s house as well as being planted outside of the neighborhood where her father lives, waiting for the next great story.”
“Why in God’s name is she there?” The name rolled off his tongue. Jasmine Rush. A flash of the past dragged him into the quiet and very personal place of sheer hell. Beads of sweat formed, threatening to roll down his face. Control. Get fucking control.
“Her father insisted she be rushed there after her concert in Philly. You don’t know this man.” Jeff laughed. “Formidable isn’t the word. I need you to roll on this one. I’ll pay double your normal salary and trust me, I can afford to make the offer.”
Of course, he had no choice in the matter. Still, the money was good, more than his normal salary. “I understand and yeah, I can be there in two hours.” This wasn’t turning out to be the kind of day off he’d hoped.
“Keep it quiet.”
“You don’t have to tell me that this is top priority as well as top secret. I understand what’s required of me, Mr. Gammon. You know that I do. Send me the directions and I’ll be there.”
“Cutter, I know you didn’t want anything of this nature again, but I don’t have a choice.”
“I get it.” The call was concluded, and he tipped his head back, groaning. “Fuck this shit.” As if anyone was listening or cared. He tapped his fingers on the desk and tossed his phone. He’d had his share of interesting clients, but he suspected this would yank every chain. A freaking princess rock star. And Jeff was right.
This was the last thing his soul could take. Dropping his head into his hands, he concentrated on his breathing, moving to a place of peace. Just a job, nothing more.
He had limited time but given the circumstances, he certainly needed as much information on the girl as he could locate. What he found on the internet certainly wasn’t an accurate picture. At least he hoped the hell it wasn’t. Glorified rag magazines and newspapers almost never told the full story, but the patterns of the girl’s childish behavior could endanger her life if proven accurate. “Fucking fantastic.”
Sighing, he rose to his feet and glanced at his watch. It was too damn early to start drinking but the concept was a good one. One drink rule. Right. Yeah, the term ‘professional’ floated in the back of his mind. He would maintain a particular decorum and get the job done. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be a long gig. However, he didn’t know any of the details.
He headed out of his office to change. The location was over an hour away. He would have just enough time to make the appointment. After taking a quick shower, he grabbed a pair of black jeans and a shirt. If he accepted the position, or he should say when, he would need to blend in. He shoved clothes into a bag, prepared to accompany the rock star to a safe house. He didn’t need to learn the particulars to realize the girl’s life must be in imminent danger.
Minutes later, he held his hand in front of a scanner, watching as the blue light shifted back and forth, reading his finger and palm prints. Hearing the click of the lock, he slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The extra security, the locked down rooms would never be discovered, not by friends or those he worked alongside. Being a loner had saved his life. Grabbing a duffle bag, he contemplated the amount of fire power he’d need.
He’d amassed a serious collection, a variety of guns and other lethal weapons all designed to keep his clients alive. Selecting his weapons of choice was usually a moment of satisfaction, a knowing centered in his gut that he could keep anyone under his protection alive. Today? He had no clue what he was faci
ng.
After debating, he selected a Ruger P, a Colt 911, a Glock and a variety of knives. As he slid into his holster, he grabbed the various boxes of ammunition, sliding the magazine into the Glock and securing it. He added a second handgun to his ankle holster then slid a Bowie knife into a leather sleeve.
When he was finished, he locked the cases and moved out into the hallway, making certain the door was closed and locked behind him. He grabbed the bag as well as his duffle and headed toward the garage, yanking his leather jacket from the hall closet. He was ready to face whatever attacker the girl might have.
If the girl followed his rules to the letter.
Cutter walked into the garage, pressing the key fob. The Dodge Ram would suit his particular needs if the safe house was located in the mountains or even on the Eastern shore. The information was carefully guarded, only allowed at the moment of departure. He tossed the bags behind the seat then climbed inside, starting the engine. There was no way of determining how long the job would last.
The drive was without incident and he checked the address twice as he rolled down the long pathway heading into the gated community. With the dark shades he was wearing, he was able to scrutinize the various media vans aligned on both sides of the road. Disgust rolled into the pit of his stomach. The vultures had no idea how distracting and dangerous their presence usually was.
The guard behind the impressive stone building seemed trained and observant. He rolled down his window.
“Yes, sir?” The guard glanced inside, a quick check, nothing more.
Cutter merely handed the man the address, preferring to stay silent. The special emblem was on the letterhead, an indication of his credentials, ones that were widely known in the industry.
The guard’s eyes opened wide and he nodded. “Yes, sir and I was told you were coming. Take your first right and go all the way down to the cul-de-sac. You can’t miss the house.”
“I need you to do something for me,” Cutter stated quietly.
“Of course, sir.” The guard had obviously been told to follow any of his directions.
“Call the police. Tell them that various press members are on private property and make certain that they are escorted off. Under no circumstances are any of the weasels to find a way inside that gate. Is that understood?”
“Clearly, sir. And very happy to call the police.” The guard grinned and grabbed his telephone.
At least the man could follow orders. The press would remain hovering, a feeding frenzy of need for a picture or a story. Hell, if he was going to give them one. Channel 8, 6, 12 and Fox news were all present, with no doubt national in the larger and better equipped vans. Attempted murder of a supposed rising star was big news? This must be a slow day in the media world.
He drove slowly through the neighborhood, passing by what could only be described as mansions. He’d heard of this particular association and knew it housed some of the most influential as well as affluent Virginians in the state. This included politicians, authors, Fortune 500 executives as well as those considered criminal masterminds. The job was getting more interesting.
As he pulled down the street, he scanned the expansive driveways, the few passing cars for any sign of acknowledgement. There was none. He was nothing more than a blip.
Cutter studied the house before easing onto the cobblestone pavement. Grand in design, he could only imagine the value. While the community itself was protected from the entrance, there were gaping holes coming from all sides. The opportunity for an attack was significant. The girl couldn’t stay here and already a first mistake had occurred. Jeff had allowed the owner to take control of the assignment. Bile formed in his throat. This was not how he wanted the assignment to begin.
The knock was short and solid, and he expected to be met by a staff member. Instead, the man standing on the other side of the door he recognized instantly. He hadn’t made the connection.
Until now. Things just got dicey.
“You must be Cutter Thomas.” His handshake was firm, his expression stern if not tinged with anger.
“Senator Rush.”
The man chuckled. “Your reputation precedes you and you come highly recommended. Please come in.” He closed the door and immediately began to walk down a hallway. “I hope your knowledge of me was because you voted for me in the last Senate race.”
“No, sir. I did not.”
“A man of few words without reservation speaking them. I like that.” He continued walking and when he reached a set of closed double doors, he stopped, turning to face Cutter. “I don’t care what your salary is or what you end up doing with the asshole threatening my daughter. Just make it happen. Are we understood?”
“Mr. Rush. I have a solid set of criteria I follow and I never waiver. This isn’t about money but about being able to do my job as required. I do not follow orders, I give them and that includes you. If I sense that your daughter cannot or will not follow my set of rules, then I will refuse to take the job. I have a one hundred percent protection rate and I’m not about to allow anyone to interfere. My rules. My way. Period. Are we clear?” Winston Rush was considered to be a tough task master in all aspects of his life. He had few friends but a score of enemies, any of which would enjoy destroying the man, possibly through his daughter. What little he did know about him was Rush’s sense of entitlement, something he loathed.
Mr. Rush gave him a long once over, studying Cutter’s eyes before speaking. “Your rules. Just keep her safe.” He opened the doors and walked into an oversized living room.
Jeff Gammon jerked up from the couch, moving toward Cutter, his eyes pushing away obvious amusement. Jeff knew Cutter more than any man, including his refusal to accept bullshit or attitude from anyone. “Right on time. Let’s get this started. We are worried that the perpetrator will attempt to harm or execute Jasmine at any given opportunity.”
“Where is she?” Cutter asked as he darted glances around the room.
“She’ll be brought in shortly. As you can imagine, she’s very distraught. There is no need for her to listen to the details,” Mr. Rush stated as he rubbed his eyes.
Cutter cocked his head, never blinking as he gave Winston a cold glare. “Ms. Rush needs to hear every single detail. She needs to comprehend what we’re facing and what could happen. I won’t sugarcoat for anyone, Mr. Rush, including your daughter. Please. Go. Get. Her.”
Winston sniffed and gave Jeff a harsh look before nodding. “Very well.” His polished shoes tapped against the hardwood floor as he walked out of the room, his pace clipped.
“Going to be a hard ass, I see,” Jeff said casually after Winston left the room.
“Just doing my job, Mr. Gammon.” He walked toward the window, peering around the closed blinds. “You asked me here because I’m the best at what I do.”
Jeff sighed. “I did, but this isn’t going to be a standoffish situation. You will be the only one keeping her safe. I don’t like what I’m hearing about this either. Too many players.”
Snapping his head in Jeff’s direction, he exhaled, allowing the sound to be exaggerated. “No one else on her detail?”
“By request of her father as well as my recommendation.”
“Why?”
“Because this is what needs to happen, Cutter. You’ll have to trust my judgment.”
Cutter knew there was more to the story, as well as the specific request to have him involved. Jeff was astute, having served with the CIA as well as the FBI during his long tenure. The security corporation was merely another faction, specialized and expensive, the level of protection reserved for those in the upper echelon of society. He would find out what the man was hiding. “Fine.”
Jeff shook his head. “Just consider this a mini-vacation.”
For some reason, the words stung. He hadn’t been on vacation in years and Jeff knew the reason why. He was the only man Cutter had allowed to know any aspect of his life. “What are you worried about?”
Jeff
darted a look over his shoulder before answering. “From what she told the police, she thinks this is nothing more than an exuberant fan turned to stalker. You know, infatuation gone awry.”
“But you have your doubts.” The words were a statement. He’d worked enough cases to realize that very few obsessed fans had the capability, even the intelligence to pull off a several month cat and mouse game. They acted on their desires, nothing more.
“Far too calculated. You know the drill. Plus, not a lot of people in her entourage doing much talking. Pretty much no one. They don’t seem to think the fact that Jasmine has been shot at is an issue.” He snorted. “Imagine that. Who needs enemies?”
“And the FBI?”
“They were called in because of Mr. Rush from the get go. Local Philadelphia police were shoved out.”
Cutter knew there was more. He held his rebuke as the sound of two sets of footsteps could be heard.
Winston walked back into the room, followed by his daughter. “Cutter Thomas, this is my daughter, Jasmine.”
Cutter was taken aback, not only by the girl’s beauty but by her intense violet eyes, mesmerizing in their shimmer, their intelligence. They were also exactly like a woman from his past. His heart thumped, creating an almost violent reaction. He swallowed hard, realizing Winston was watching, even scrutinizing his mannerisms. There was no trust. Not that there needed to be at this point. “Ms. Rush.”
She remained where she was for a few seconds then headed in his direction. While her gait was steady, her eyes told a different story entirely.
She was terrified for her life.
“You can call me Jasmine, that is if you’re a very good boy.” She held out her hand. There was a slight shake, but she masked her emotions, doing her best to maintain a certain composure. Arrogance.
And Cutter knew it had very little to do with the person stalking her.
“Jasmine! You will not talk that way in front of anyone.” Winston admonished.