Safe?
His climax wracked his body is violent shudders, even as the word stilled his heart. Safe. She’d never be safe with him. He was a thief and she was a cop.
Two different worlds. As it always had been. Too different, too dangerous for their love to survive.
“Flynn. Flynn. Oh, fuck me, Flynn. I love you.”
Katrina’s cries rent the air. Her pussy constricted on his pumping, spurting shaft. She bucked and moaned and milked his cock of every last drop, and he gave it—willingly, desperately.
Because in his head two words threaded through the absolute rapture consuming him: dangerous, love.
His body afire, his blood ice, he cried out one more time and then slumped onto her body. Holding her, wanting to imprint this very moment on his psyche forever.
“Oh, God, I love you, Flynn,” Katrina murmured, tracing her nails up and down his back in languid, lazy patterns, a smile of wonderment in her voice.
Flynn closed his eyes and held her close. This moment. This moment. He brushed his lips over her temple. “I love you too,” he whispered in her ear, pulling her closer.
Knowing exactly what he had to do.
***
Katrina opened her eyes and smiled at the ceiling. She felt aglow. Clichéd, she knew, but aglow all the same. Aglow and warm and completely, wonderfully sated.
Stretching slightly, she turned her head.
And found the space beside her empty.
A chill stabbed at her euphoria. Surely he wouldn’t do it to her again? Surely…
She sat up, looking around the room.
Not a sign Flynn Marsters had ever been there.
Except for the dampness between your thighs?
A tingling sensation began to grow in the pit of her stomach. The “cop” part of her stomach. She swallowed. “Flynn?”
Silence.
“Flynn?”
How many times do you have to call his name to know he’s not here, O’Lauchlan?
Icy numbness rolled over her. Embarrassed disgust devoured her. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her face with hands that trembled. “Oh, you bloody idiot, O’Lauchlan.”
She stayed that way for a long moment, part of her pretending she only waited for Flynn to come back from dashing to the ice-machine. The fact her suite had a mini-bar didn’t matter. Where else would he be, if not at the ice-machine?
Dragging her fingers through her hair, she looked up, staring blankly at the suite’s door, framed by the ornate archway separating the bedroom from the ‘living’ section of the suite.
Her gut clenched, almost as tight as her fists. She deserved this. For being an idiot. For not learning a lesson. Self-contempt churned through her, and with it came anger.
Staring at the door, she ground her teeth, willing Flynn to walk through it so she could smash her fist against his face.
The doorknob didn’t move.
Neither did the cuffs hanging from them.
Katrina stared at them. Her cuffs. A parting shot from Flynn Marsters, no doubt, but a cold reminder of why she was here.
Turning her gaze from the door, she studied the crumpled heap of latex on the floor beside the bed. The cat’s costume.
The Big Man’s Masquerade Ball was tonight. The Mouse would be there, watching her from the shadows. Laughing at her. As he always did.
Steely resolve shot through Katrina’s veins, turning the numbing chill to hot determination. Tonight, the cat was going to unsheathe her claws and catch herself a mouse. Regardless of what it took.
And damn Flynn Marsters to hell.
Chapter Seven
She moved through the thrumming bodies writhing, grinding and generally dry-humping all around her. The musky scent of sex and lust hung heavy on the air-conditioned air. The low, muted lights cast the other guests—all masked, all barely dressed—in warm purple shadows, highlighting enhanced cleavage, bare torsos and sublime forms.
She threaded her way through the crowd, searching the shadows for a figure she knew well. Seeking the only man that matter to her now.
“Come out, come out, where ever you are,” she muttered under her breath, feeling strangely uninhibited. It had something to do with the mask, she was sure. The moment she’d clasped the final hook on the corset of the costume, she’d felt like sin, but the second, the second, she’d placed the mask on her face she’d wanted to live sin. As though the tiny sculpted item tapped into the dark side of her she wanted to forever forget. Remembered oh, so briefly in Flynn’s treacherous arms.
Focus, O’Lauchlan. Think of The Mouse. Not the yellow-bellied snake.
She continued to move deeper into The Big Man’s Ball, too aware of her body. The boots, long and snug with just a tiny flare at the top, brushed against her inner-thigh with each step she took, feeding the warm pulse in her core. Even the thick but subtle length of suede effecting a tail made her want to squirm and purr with pleasure. It brushed the cheeks of her arse in a delicate swish-swish motion, like soft fingertips feathering her flesh.
Whose finger tips? Surely not Flynn’s?
A heat stole over her, through her body, like erotic ebb and flow. The mask felt warm and in turn, she felt warm. No, not just warm. Horny.
She cast her gaze around the room. She had to remember why she was there. Why she’d come to Los Magia in the first place. The Mouse. The Mouse was there somewhere. Goading her from the shadows. Watching her.
The thought sent another warm tingle through her body and her head swam. She felt intoxicated. But on what?
Lust?
A loud cheer rang through the room, making Katrina jump and suddenly every set of eyes turned to the centre dais on-which stepped a man dressed in an immaculate white suit and what looked like blue cowboy boots. The thick black hair and pitch-black aviator shades were undeniable, as was the diamond studded belt buckle in the shape of a set of elaborately curved gates complete with music notes sitting low on his abdomen. He held up his hands, the diamond rings adorning each pinkie glinting in the light, and another cheer rippled through the audience, glasses of champagne raised to meet his acknowledgement.
Katrina cocked an eyebrow. “So much for him having left the building,” she muttered, stepping backward and running her hands down her ribcage. The Big Man’s arrival seemed to shatter the heady lust threatening to overwhelm her and she pulled a deep, steadying breath, casting a look up at the man—damn, that was a bloody impressive impersonator—on the dais. Thank you. Thank you very much.
Turning, she began weaving her way through the crowd. She needed to take the mask off. She may be just imagining it, but she didn’t like what it was doing to—
She froze as a man dressed entirely in black threaded through the shadows before her. A man whose frame she recognised.
Flynn?
Or The Mouse?
Her mouth went dry. Really dry.
Just as her pussy fluttered with a damp excitement too ominously ambiguous.
She took a step, pushing her way through the masked guests around her.
Quickening her pace, a distant part of her mind aware the people around her had returned to their…activities…she followed him deeper into the Dominate Play Room, her heart thumping hard in her chest. This could be it. This could be—
A man stepped directly in her path, blocking her line of sight. Eyes the colour of a brilliant summer sky devoured her from behind a blood-red devil’s mask. “You make a very delightful cat, Ms O’Lauchlan.”
Katrina stared up at the Devil, her pussy suddenly wet with cream. “Mr Abaddon.”
The sensuous lips under the devil’s mask curled. “Going somewhere?”
Surreal rapacious hunger swept over her. Followed by irritated impatience. “Yes, actually. If you’ll excuse—”
He destroyed the small distance between them, his eyes flaring with blue fire. “No.”
His arms snaked around her waist, his hands grabbed her arse and, before she could stop him, his mouth slanted over hers
.
The mask erupted in scalding, exquisite heat, a wild, wet heat that roared through her. Consumed her. Took possession of her completely.
His tongue plunged past her lips, taking and demanding more. He yanked her harder to his body, his cock grinding against her belly, his fingers digging into her arse. Ribbons of dark pleasure unfurled in the pit of Katrina’s stomach. She squirmed in his punishing embrace, a prickling moisture between her thighs. God, she felt out of control. Like her body and its responses were no longer hers to govern.
Abaddon’s tongue flicked at her teeth before his mouth dragged a hot line up to her ear. “Yes. You are so right.”
The low hiss made Katrina’s blood chill. And her sex pulse.
She closed her fingers around the steely broadness of his shoulder and shoved.
Nothing.
Except a low chuckle in her ear and another pulsing wave of wet hunger in her sex.
Abaddon’s lush lips pressed to her ear. “Now I know you don’t want me to let you go.”
He squeezed her arse harder, yanking her hips firmer to his, his cock grinding to her belly with such arrogance her knees shook. Abaddon’s right hand left her arse and closed completely over her left breast, fingers mauling the uplifted swell of flesh almost spilling from the corset and Katrina gasped. She tried to pull back, her pussy pooling with cream at the illicit desire her struggles evoked in her own being. Abaddon laughed, his fingers tugging at the corset’s bra until they exposed her nipple to the air.
Her eyes flung open and she stared up at him, hating what she was letting him do, wanting to stop him, stop him for God’s sake, O’Lauchlan, stop him, but drowning in the dark passion rolling over her at the same time.
He stared down at her, blue eyes like cerulean fire, blood-red mask somehow melding to his perfectly handsome face. “Fighting me is half the pleasure, is it not, Ms O’Lauchlan.” He smiled, the action both cruel and seductive. “Being subdued and owned the other half.”
His fingers pinched down on her nipple and rampant, erotic lust devoured her. Over-powering. Compelling. She cried out, arching into his towering frame, ramming her sodden sex to the rigid length of his cock.
No. No. Not him. This is not right.
Abaddon smiled again. “Says who?”
He sank his fingers into her arse cheeks and twisted her nipple at the same time. Twin jolts of exquisite pain lanced through her and she cried out again. He latched onto her bowed neck with his mouth, sucking on her flesh with painful greed. She writhed in his hold, pushing at him with her hands even as she rolled her mons up and down the length of his cock.
Around them, the ball continued. The cop part of her mind, the part that never switched off, heard other people laughing, dancing, fucking. Hands slid up her thighs, joined Abaddon’s on her arse. Tongues dipped into her ear, delved past her parted lips. God, she was being mauled by who knew how many people and she didn’t care…
Yes, you do.
“No, you don’t,” Abaddon whispered, before, with brutal savagery, he pulled her left breast entirely free of her corset and closed his lips around her bruised and tortured nipple.
“Fuck.”
A loud cheer followed Katrina’s raw cry. Abaddon chuckled against the captured nub of flesh between his teeth, and then proceeded to suck and gnaw on its rock-hard form. She bucked in his grip, fingers clawing at his shoulders, breath coming from her in shallow gasps. Suddenly her right breast was free of the corset, and new lips closed over its nipple, suckling just as hard, just as greedily as Abaddon’s. She moaned, writhing and arching her back more, pushing her breasts harder into those two ravenous mouths.
Wet heat built like a wall of molten lust between her thighs. Thighs spread to align her pussy closer to Abaddon’s cock. Oh, God, what was she doing? What was she doing?
She pushed at his shoulders, ineffectual and angry at once.
The show of resistance made Abaddon ram his cock to her latex-covered sex, made him close his teeth down on her nipple in a bite both terrible and wonderful.
Katrina whimpered, the sound lost as a mouth crushed hers in a demanding, taking kiss.
Three. There are three of them…
The thought wafted through her mind. Made her sex gush with delight and her heart hammer with shame. She was here to find a jewel thief. Not partake in an—
The unknown mouth on her right beast drew her nipple deeper, tonguing it with ferocious frenzy. The unknown tongue mating with hers grew wild.
Three.
Her pussy constricted, the nub of her clit a swollen button of sensitive want. God, she hadn’t felt this turned on since…
Flynn…
Ravenous want pooled in Katrina’s core. The only man to give her what she truly hungered for. The only man to break her heart. Twice.
“Forget him.” Abaddon’s whisper tickled her ear. Katrina didn’t know how the man knew what—who—was in her head. The surreal sensations of three pairs of hands on her body, of hot, wet lips worshipping her even as they took from her the will to force them off, denied her the ability to form coherent thought.
She felt like she was drowning in lust.
“Then drown.”
The murmured command from Abaddon sent a wave of salacious heat through her body and her knees gave away.
She slumped and Abaddon caught her, lifting her feet from the floor, one arm under her knees the other her back.
The unseen hands and mouths ravishing her body disappeared. All that existed was the mysterious man from The Wicked Lynx and his blazing blue eyes.
“Capitulation. Such a delicious thing to discover in a police officer.”
Abaddon’s whispered statement should have made Katrina hiss with fury. Should have made her smash her fist to his chiselled jaw. Should have made her want her gun. But instead, it made her pussy flutter and her eyes close. Languid fingers of warmth spread out from the mask, down her body, pinching her nipples in eager want. Her pussy fluttered again, more demanding, and she pressed her thighs together. Oh, where are you, O’Lauchlan? What is going on?
“Let me show you…”
She felt Abaddon move through the crowd, felt new hands caress her limbs and torso as he went.
Stop him. Stop him.
The cried order flooded her mind. Just as Abaddon’s lips found her neck. He drew her flesh into his mouth, nipping with teeth that somehow felt pointed, and Katrina sucked in a sharp breath, letting her head fall further back, granting the man greater access. Why should she stop him? When he made her feel…
The sounds of the ball, the sounds of partying guests and the familiar rhythm of a song about blue shoes made of suede faded, becoming a faint ghost in her head. She opened her eyes and found herself in a secluded alcove, the muted lights casting the room in deep shadows.
With a fluid grace that made her shiver with anticipation, Abaddon lowered her to her feet, his blazing blue eyes locked on hers. “I know what you want, Ms O’Lauchlan.”
Katrina stared at him, a twist of anger tightening in her chest. “How?”
His cerulean stare burned brighter from behind the devil’s mask. “I’ve told you that already. Because I know everything about you.” His arms slid around her torso, his hands finding her arms and lifting them slowly above her head. His cock a long, thick rod against her belly, his hips pushed into hers. She took a step back, her breath catching and her nipples pinching harder, even as her mind—that ever so distant, rational cop’s mind she so valued—told her to kick him in the balls and ram her knee into his chin.
Abaddon chuckled, white teeth flashing. “Why would you do that, when I’m just about to do this?”
His hips pushed her back again, his hands snaking up her forearms to press her wrists to something cool and soft yet firm as well. A dull click sounded in the room.
And Katrina’s eyes snapped open.
He’d cuffed her.
Blue eyes flared, the devil’s mask appearing less artificial with each second. �
�Not cuffs, my delectable pussy cat.” He ground his rigid cock to her belly, rubbing its length against her mons in slow, languid strokes. “Shackles.”
Cold rage and blistering, shameful excitement roared through her. She flung her stare up at her wrists, seeing them encased in thick leather bands with shiny silver locking mechanisms attached to a thick silver chain hanging from the ceiling.
“No key is required to release you,” Abaddon went on, trailing his fingers down the extended line of her arms until they brushed the tops of her breasts. “Just a simple word from me. So it is pointless trying to tug free.”
“Let me go.”
Abaddon chuckled, sliding his hands entirely over the swell of her breasts. He kneaded them gently, capturing her nipples between his knuckles immediately. “That’s not what you want, Ms O’Lauchlan.” He pinched the exposed nubs and a sizzling jolt of concentrated pleasure shot into Katrina’s pussy. “Is it.”
Katrina sank her nails into her palms, doing every thing in her power to fight off the waves of wanton hunger trying to consume her. She didn’t want this. Not from this man. So why did every fibre in her being quiver and ache for his touch. “What have you done to me?”
He chuckled again. “The mask releases you, Ms O’Lauchlan. Let’s your desire run free when you would have it hobbled and imprisoned. Nothing that powerful should be contained, my little cat.” He pinched her nipples and ground his cock against her. “As you will soon see.”
Hot tension shot through her, making her gasp. She bucked, her pussy clenching along with her fists. “Take it off.”
“You do not mean that, Ms O’Lauchlan.”
Katrina jerked on the shackles, glaring at the masked man before her, her sex heavy with hunger. “Take. It. Off.”
Abaddon smiled slowly, pushing his hips harder to hers. “Tell me…” His foot smacked against the inside of her right ankle with brutal force, knocking her legs wider apart with an abrupt jolt. “To suck…” He kicked at her left ankle, spreading her legs even further. “Your…” He rammed his cock to her groin and pinched her nipples with punishing strength. “Tits.”
Kat and Mouse Page 7