His Devil's Desire (Club Devil's Cove Book 1)

by Linzi Basset

  “If not?” He prodded without taking his eyes off the road. He turned into the driveway of his estate and sat waiting for the electric gate to close behind them.

  “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “But not if she is alive, I assume.”

  This time, there was no hiding the simmering anger in his gaze.

  Samantha swallowed but didn’t back down.

  “He doesn’t know I’ve found out his true identity. Please, try and understand, Rhone. It’s the only leverage I have.”

  “It might be in your eyes but listen well, Samantha. If anything happens to my friends or family—and let me make this clear, that includes Keon’s daughter, Rebecca—because of your continued refusal to oust that bastard, I will personally take care of you. Bulldog won’t have the opportunity to use you for shit.”

  Samantha jumped when he slammed the door shut behind him. Her shoulders slumped as she sat watching him stomp toward the front door. He flung it open, only to realize, with a curse, that she hadn’t followed him.

  The look he shot at her was enough to make her scramble from the Hummer and follow him inside.

  Chapter Six

  In a flash of a moment, he found himself standing in the midst of a vast darkness, with a dull spotlight shining down on his head. He glanced down at his hands and feet. He was wearing a white shirt and pants, which he couldn’t recall belonging to him.

  What the fuck is going on?

  He’d never given into the unknown or to the fear that came with it. Nor did he do it now. He was barefoot and the soles of his feet were burning from the searing heat of the ground. The hair on his nape rose. He stared at a vast, empty, wasteland that surrounded him. It was pitch black all around.

  Where the hell am I?

  His eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness no matter which way he turned, except for the dull light around him. The darkness weighed so heavily on his shoulders it felt like a vortex rotating about him. Then, the loneliness, and the depth of his seclusion shook him.

  It was a feeling he was used to. He’d lived with it for years while deep undercover and when he’d been taken captive and tortured for months at end. Screams echoed in his mind and he knew they were his own. He felt the pungent vapor of sulfur filling his nostrils which caused his stomach to churl. He could feel his throat contracting as he struggled not to choke.

  He could hear muffled voices from his left and behind him, followed by a ripple of mocking laughter. Waves of hatred swept through him like the heavy stream from a fireman’s hose.

  They fucking won’t capture me again. Not again! He swore as he tried to run away, but slammed into an invisible barrier.

  A vision appeared from the dark void. Shimmering like a golden halo as it came closer.

  “Rhone.”

  He heard his name coming from the apparition, which took the form of a woman walking toward him. Naked, with long sleek limbs. He tried to stall her; scream at her to turn around and run, but he couldn’t form the words.

  Then she reached him and touched his brow. The darkness dissolved like mist before the sun, as her smile filled his essence. Her face resembled an angel of mercy.

  “Samantha,” he whispered, his lips barely moving.

  “Rhone! Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  He blinked once, twice and opened his eyes—immediately wide awake.

  Samantha leaned over him; her brow was creased with concern.

  “Are you okay? You seemed very distressed,” she lilted.

  “I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” he said in a rough voice. His throat felt raw. Just like the emotions raging through him like a wildfire.

  What the hell does that mean? Why would she turn the darkness around me to light? Fuck, I hate nightmares!

  “Rhone, do you want to talk about it?”

  The look he slanted her was answer enough. Clearly, he was one of those alpha men who didn’t dissect dreams.

  “I said, go back to sleep.” He turned his back on her.

  Samantha didn’t move; just kneeled on the bed, watching him.

  “Except, if you wanna fuck. That I can do,” he muttered, sensing her watchful gaze.

  “Oh, please. You made it clear what you think of me. That prospect has obviously flown out the window.”

  Rhone looked at her over his shoulder.

  “You don’t know men very well, do you?” His eyes took a slow trip up and down her body which was clearly illuminated by the full moon shining through the window. “I don’t need to trust or even like you to fuck you, Samantha. It’s easy science. My cock goes into that little hole of yours and once your tight walls pull me deeper, I don’t need to think. My dick takes control and that’s all there is to it. Don’t delude yourself into believing that I won’t fuck you again, because I will. I’m gonna fuck you any which way I want and as often as I want and you, my pet, are gonna take everything I give to you. Do you know why?”

  “I’m waiting with bated breath,” she bit out through pressed lips, anger turning her eyes into liquid gold.

  “Because your pussy has had a taste of me and you can deny it all you want, but I smell the lust on you every time you come close to me. You might not want it, my lovely, but that delightful pussy of yours, is begging for it.”

  “You’re delusional, Rhone Greer,” she snapped and fell on her stomach onto the bed, turning her face away from him. She knew he was right. Her stupid libido spiked in his presence and she was constantly wet and dripping. She could smell her lust at times, so it was little wonder that a powerful Dom like him would too—and know it was because of him.

  “Hm, well, I’ll just put it to the test then. If you want me to fuck you again, you’ll have to beg for it.”

  “Not until hell freezes over,” she mumbled into the pillow. She cursed herself. Her body was throbbing with need. It’s been two days since he’d fucked her and she’d been craving more of him. Living in such close quarters with him and being forced to sleep next to him was torture. Especially when she’d woken up more than once to find her legs tangled between his.

  Samantha yanked on the cuffs and growled when she heard the clank of the chains. Since she’d managed to escape the rope he’d used the first night, he now tied her with a leather cuff which had a small lock. This he attached to a chain which was locked around the bedpost under the bed. She could move around but no more than a couple of feet from the bed. And without any tools, she had no way of getting out of them, to find a bed elsewhere.

  “Quiet down, Samantha, otherwise I might just believe you want me more than you let on.”

  “You are beyond vain; do you know that?” she sneered and flopped over onto her back. He was still on his side, facing away from her.

  His chuckle was the only response. “No, but at least I am honest enough about my cock’s response to you as a woman.”

  His cock’s response! Fucking bastard!

  Rhone couldn’t have dampened Samantha’s desire quicker with a bucket of ice. He’d as much as told her that his attraction to her was purely physical. And not because of her, but just because she was a female.

  While she was struggling with the emotions he’d awakened inside her soul. Stuff, the experts referred to as love and forever after. She scoffed at her own thoughts.

  Stop dreaming, woman. You’ve never believed in any of that. And with this man and your background? Never gonna happen.

  * * * * * * * *

  Rhone waited until Samantha was asleep before he got up and pulled on his running gear. Within minutes he was jogging down the dark street in the direction of Fort Washington Park. His estate was located on the edge of Harmony Hall Park on the banks of Broad Creek, a tributary of the Potomac River.

  He coveted the peace that surrounded the estate, which was why they’d decided to renovate the old mansion into something more modern and build the new club here. Initially the plan had been to use the mansion as the club, but he’d come to love the house and the inher
ent character of, what was once, a stately old mansion.

  The distance to New York, to visit Ruark and his nephews, was short enough since he had his own plane and chopper. He was happy here. Finally, after all the years, he had roots. Nothing and no one was going to uproot him. Never again.

  This was where his children would grow up. A vision of a little girl with golden locks, bright glowing eyes and a whimsical smile flashed through his mind.

  “Fuck, Greer. Get your head straight,” he snapped at himself and pushed his legs harder to run faster up the incline of the hill.

  The dream had shaken Rhone more than he cared to admit. Mainly because it was similar to one he used to have during those months of incarceration and torture. Dreams that had become his saving grace during nights when despair threatened to drag him under. Only then, he never saw the face of the woman in his dreams. But the hair, the body . . . all of the memories he had of those dreams were identical to the one he’d just had.

  Rhone couldn’t help but wonder if there was a deeper meaning to all this. Was she meant to be his savior? The one to finally pull him out of the muck his mind had buried him under, for the past ten years? Was she the one to save him from drowning in a well of loneliness; the one to tame the dark beast inside him and take him to the light? Like she’d done in the dream.

  His retrospection had taken so long, Rhone only returned to the house well after sunrise. The moment he opened the front door, he could hear Samantha’s panicked shrieks from upstairs.

  “What the fuck? No one can get inside the house. It’s a fort,” he muttered as he ran upstairs. He halted in the doorway. He leaned against the door—a picture of easy insolence—and watched Samantha doing a jiggle and a bounce next to the bed.

  “Where the hell have you been? Damn you! Untie me. I need the bathroom,” she demanded in a thin voice.

  Rhone’s one eyebrow slanted in an upward arc. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked her up and down; hiding an appreciative glimmer in his eyes at how sexy she looked with her disheveled hair, sweatpants and t-shirt.

  “You do? Sorry, my dear, you’ll have to wait. I’m all sweaty and stinky, so I’m gonna take a shower first.”

  Samantha’s mouth gaped open. “You’re not serious. Hell and damnation, Rhone! Oooh!” Her voice thinned out. She crossed her legs, squeezed her thighs together and did a quick hop-scotch-jiggle.

  “I need to pee! You’ve been gone for hours and I can’t hold it any longer.” Her voice sharpened.

  “I warned you about all that water you drink during the night.”

  “I always drink water . . . mmm . . . un-fucking-tie me, you bastard!” She spat at him.

  Rhone swore he could see her eyes swimming with the need to relieve herself.

  “Sit down on the bed, my pet. I’ll be quick—”

  “Don’t you dare! If you don’t untie me, I swear I will cut that damn bar counter into pieces before the opening!”

  “You should know better than to threaten me, Samantha. I don’t scare easily.”

  “Rhone, please, I beg you,” she pleaded while doing another quickstep back and forth with her knees squeezed together.

  He conceded and unlocked the cuff around her wrist. She tore across the room and disappeared into the bathroom. He followed her and took the same lazy stance against the door, watching as she sat down on the toilet with a relieved sigh.

  Until she looked up and saw him watching.

  “What the fuck? Go away, Rhone!”

  “I want to take a shower, Samantha. Pee and get it done with.”

  “Not with you watching,” she wailed in a small voice. Her eyes squinted as another rush of painful need pulsed low inside her belly. The pressure was unbearable.

  “Come now, my pet. Don’t tell me you’ve never peed in front of one of your lovers before.”

  “For your information, Rhone Greer, we’re not lovers! Go away! There are six bathrooms in this mausoleum of a house. You don’t need to use this one!”

  “But this one is my bathroom and besides, I have the showerhead set at the exact angle for me.”

  “Oh, for god sake,” Samantha snapped. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate but to no avail. Just the thought of him watching stayed the stream that pulsed painfully in her bladder.

  “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna scream at the top of my lungs for Enzo to come,” she tried to threaten to call the resident chef as a final resort.

  Rhone chuckled, “He might still be faithful to his wife in his heart, my pet, but he loves a beautiful woman. Especially a near naked one and would probably want to stay and watch.”

  His lips flattened when she began to moan in despair. “Enough, Samantha. Get it done. Now.”

  Her eyes widened when her bladder released a gush of liquid. It was like her body had been waiting for his order.

  “You’re a fucking asshole, do you know that?”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  He shrugged out of his t-shirt and kicked off his sneakers and shorts. Samantha’s mouth began to drool at the amount of naked flesh in front of her. Not to mention the huge cock moving in a pendulum arc as he turned toward the shower. She licked her lips watching his buttocks flex as he stepped inside and turned on the water.

  The crisscross scars on his back appeared more prominent in the well-lit bathroom. Samantha wondered about them briefly. She blinked to force back the tears at the thought of the pain he must have suffered.

  The shower was massive, with only a glass pane on the one side and open on the other. Samantha had joked when she saw it the first time that it was large enough to accommodate an entire rugby team. He, of course, had come back with, “Yeah, there has been a time or two when I’ve had an entire . . . eh . . . team in there with me.”

  She’d scoffed and walked away. Not impressed with the knowledge that he’d had sex with other women in this room.

  Samantha sat as still as a statue. Her stomach tightened when he began to soap himself. She followed the soap suds travel in lines over his corrugated stomach and sighed when he turned his back to her.

  Her libido had spiked when he’d taken his clothes off. Her loins throbbed with desire. She could almost feel his tumescence spread her open as he pushed himself into the hilt.

  His words flashed into her mind, “If you want me to fuck you again, you’ll have to beg for it.”

  Well, Master Razor, two can play that game and I’m desperate enough to play dirty.

  Samantha removed her clothes and tip-toed into the shower. She turned on the second set of sprays. “Ah, now this is heaven,” she moaned with her eyes closed and her head tilted backward.

  The water rained all over her, turning her into a sleek mermaid right in front of Rhone’s eyes. “What are you doing?” he barked.

  She smiled at the irritation in his voice but kept her head lowered. “What does it look like? I may as well shower now, seeing as I’m fully awake.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, almost bursting into laughter at the pained expression on his face. “Mind you, that is your fault. If I had the means to get to the toilet, I would’ve just gone back to sleep.”

  He mumbled incoherently but returned to washing his hair. Samantha pressed her palm low against his stomach as she reached upward in pretense to adjust the showerhead.

  Rhone cursed and did it for her. She let her hand slide over his wet skin until her fingers fell away mid-thigh, after a brief brush against his shaft. His jaw had turned rigid. The slow rise of his cock didn’t go unnoticed either.

  With a secret smile, she turned and began soaping herself. With her legs straight, she bent over double and pressed her buttocks against his thigh.

  “You are asking for trouble, Ms. Frazer,” he warned in a chilled voice.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was standing so close.” She turned around while speaking and ensured that the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest.

  “Goddammit!” He jerkily switched of
f the water and stepped around her. “I can’t even shower in peace.”

  Before she realized his intent, he reached up and around her. “And you, little carpenter, need to cool off.”

  With those words, he turned on the cold water full blast and twisted the showerhead to hit her directly on her chest.

  Her surprised shriek didn’t marry well with his deep laugh of enjoyment as he walked out.

  “Where are you going?” She called after him when she managed to catch her breath and switch off the tap.

  “To shower in peace in one of the other six bathrooms,” he growled and stomped off in his naked glory.

  This time her tinkling laughter followed him down the hallway.

  Chapter Seven

  “She hated doing chores.” Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. “Lauren,” Samantha added by way of explaining the wayward thought that had echoed in the luxurious interior of Rhone’s Hummer. They’d been waiting for nearly an hour. She’d been surprised when she’d received the coordinates from Bulldog without having to ask.

  She glanced toward Rhone. He had been adamant that he wasn’t allowing her to go alone and that Max had to accompany them to enable him to set up their own surveillance. Her concern that he might be seen didn’t faze him.

  “We’re not leaving the Hummer, Samantha. Even if he has aerial surveillance on her house, he won’t detect us.”

  Rhone had wanted to take the chopper but Samantha insisted they drive. She needed time to prepare herself for the possibility of seeing her sister for the first time in sixteen years.

  “Then she and I would get along well. I used to find all sorts of excuses to get Ruark to do mine,” he said in a gentle voice.

  Samantha hadn’t spoken since they left the house, over three hours ago. The thought, that her sister had been living this close to her all this time, weighed heavily on her mind.

  “I can’t believe she’s been in Charlottesville all this time,” she finally whispered. Her gaze scouted the houses on either side of the street.