Slave To Love (sizzling erotic thriller noir - full length)

by Black, Nikita

  ***

  “Mick,” Caro pleaded as Mick swung around and grabbed her.

  Pleading for what, she wasn’t sure. Support? Reassurance? Absolution?

  Something more?

  She should feel humiliated by what had just happened. Ashamed, or at the very least mortified. She felt none of those things.

  All she felt was devastating pleasure. Her limbs quivered from repletion, her bottom stung with spent arousal, her sex throbbed with lingering guilty fulfillment. Her mind refused to think about what she had just done, or deal with the creeping unease that her soul had been laid so bare at the hands of Bobby and Cody, and the rest of the men in the room.

  “Shhh. It’s okay,” Mick murmured. “I’m here.”

  Beneath her blindfold, she pressed her eyelids closed. “I can’t believe I—”

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now, little slave?”

  She felt him move behind her, and heard the metallic rasp of a zipper.

  “There isn’t a man in this room who wouldn’t lay himself at your feet right now and beg you to be his.”

  “I should never have told you that story,” she whispered half-heartedly, trying to be angry with him for bringing her to this new, amazing level of discomfiting self-awareness. But failing.

  “You knew I’d use it well. And now I own your spanking fantasy. It’s my face and body you’ll see, my voice you’ll hear from now on, not his.”

  He pushed into her, and she knew he was right. She moaned with pleasure as he hilted, filling her from behind with his thick length.

  “Touch her!” she heard him order Bobby and Cody gruffly.

  She sensed them closing in at her sides. She tugged at her bonds, writhing helplessly when their hands grasped her breasts and began caressing her flesh all over.

  “No,” she moaned. This was not fair! Her body was so lit up from arousal she didn’t stand a chance against the combined onslaught of their hands and Mick’s cock thrusting in and out of her. Pleasure slammed into her.

  “No!” she cried.

  Mick groaned loudly, and she knew he was starting to climax. He loved it when she resisted, and she loved fighting him. She struggled harder, yanking at the silk scarf tying her to the post, squirming away from her tormentors. Making Mick hold her hips in an iron grip.

  “Stop!” she screamed, feeling the first hot spew of semen against her womb. She screamed again as her own muscles contracted around him and catapulted her over the edge of bliss once more. “Noooo!”

  All at once the air was rent by a yell not her own. A vicious, animal-like roar of male outrage.

  “Leave her alone!”

  For a split second everything went absolutely still, except for Mick’s final thrust deep into her. Suddenly, he made a choking noise, a sound she’d never heard from him before, and his body was brutally yanked from hers.

  “Hey!” Cody yelled, and a furious scuffle ensued on the stage behind her. Someone hit the wooden floor with a loud thunk and a grunt of pain.

  Chaos erupted all around. Amid a cacophony of shouts and running feet, panic avalanched over Caro. She had to get this blindfold off!

  “Mick? What’s going on? Mick! Talk to me!”

  Totally exposed and vulnerable, tied to the post like a sacrificial lamb, she wrenched at her bonds, this time in earnest, picking frantically at the knot.

  “Mick,” she whimpered, tears stinging her eyes. If he would just say something! Anything!

  She bowed her head and tore off the blindfold with her fingers just in time to see Lauren jumping onto the stage brandishing her handcuffs. Caro wrenched around. Smythe was on his stomach on the floor, Cody sprawled over his back and Bobby holding down his flailing arms as Lauren struggled to put the cuffs on him. A bloody knife lay by his side.

  “Get the bastards off me!” Smythe screeched. “Lauren! How can you do this! I was saving her!”

  “Shut up, Rodney,” she snarled, snapping the metal ring in place. “We know exactly what you were doing. And this time you’re going to fry for it.”

  Frantically, Caro searched the stage for Mick. When she finally saw him, she screamed again.

  But this time in horror.

  Mick lay on his stomach, his tuxedo jacket splayed around him like a tattered flag, shredded by two long slashes. An oblong blood stain slowly spread across the center of his back. His fingers gripped the wooden floor of the stage in evident pain.

  “Mick!” she screamed.

  “He was raping her!” Smythe yelled, his voice high-pitched and hysterical. “The bastard was raping her! They all were! I had to stop them!”

  Mick groaned and Caro pulled frantically at the last knot in the scarf, finally getting free. She ran to him, throwing herself to her knees beside him, terrified to hurt him more by touching him, but desperately needing contact. She laid her hand on his cheek as a man in a green jacket knelt on his other side, announcing he was the house doctor.

  “Baby, can you hear me?” she said above the din of the crowd. Cody ran over to them. “Get everyone out of here,” she cried. “The doctor needs quiet.”

  Cody nodded and began herding people away, giving the doctor space to work.

  “Help me get his jacket off,” he ordered.

  “I’m fine,” Mick said with another groan. “Just need to sit up.”

  “Not a chance. You’re bleeding,” Caro informed him, relief twirling through her like a top. He was cranky. That had to be a good sign.

  “Just nicked me,” Mick said, struggling up.

  The doc grabbed his arm and helped him sit. Together they peeled the slashed jacket down his shoulders and off. Caro let out a breath. Underneath, his shirt was hardly touched, save one ugly gash starting right behind his heart and ending at his waist. Blood oozed from the wound beneath, but it didn’t appear too deep.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Caro said as tears flooded her vision. The doctor ripped Mick’s shirt away and she gingerly put her arms around his neck. She wanted to hold him tight and never let him go. “That was close. Too close.”

  “Tell me about it.” He helped the doctor peel the shirt completely off, wincing at the movement, then put his arms around her and kissed her. “But you did great.”

  “Hell, I was tied to the damn pole the whole time. But you got him, Mick. You did it.”

  “With a little help from my friends,” he said, glancing over at Bobby and Cody who were getting ready to haul off Smythe. But Mick’s smile didn’t even reach the crinkles around his eyes.

  Whatever the doctor was doing to his back must hurt like hell.

  “Will he need stitches?” she asked.

  “About fifty, I’d say,” the doctor said, and Mick groaned. “Small ones. Unless you want a big scar.”

  “Scars can be sexy,” Mick said in that stubborn tone men used when trying to avoid something they didn’t want to do.

  “Forget it,” she said. “No scars.”

  “Hey, I’m the Master here,” he reminded her gruffly. But she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. This time.

  “Yes,” she whispered nevertheless, and kissed him.

  “You can drop the act now, McGraw,” Lauren said, coming up and rolling her eyes. “Our guys arrested Rodney Smythe and he’s on his way to lock-up.”

  “What act?” Mick said mildly, his gaze holding Caro’s.

  “Our guys?” Caro asked, nestling possessively against his chest as the doctor finished bandaging his back. What the hell was Lauren doing here? She was still naked, but parading around like she owned the place, looking somehow...official.

  “FBI. That’s who I work for now.” Lauren sent an apologetic shrug to Mick. “Sorry, I couldn’t get hold of you to tell you.”

  “You work with Tim?” Caro asked incredulously, seeking him out among the small group of cops who had gathered around them.

  Woodruff, standing close by, stepped forward and slid his hands around Lauren’s waist from behind. “Different division. Sp
ecial Agent Adams is undercover mostly...as it were.”

  Lauren spun from his hold, slapping his hands sharply. “Quit the jokes, asshole. And I told you, no touching.”

  “What about fucking?”

  “Drop dead, Woodruff,” she said, and stalked off in her spike heels looking confident, dangerous and sexy.

  The cops around them chuckled as Tim grinned at her rebuff, but every one of them watched spellbound as her pert little backside strode out of the room. In the hall Lauren greeted Rebecca with a kiss and linked arms as they headed for the stairs together.

  “She undercover, too?” Caro asked idly, trying to keep from laughing at the men whose tongues were practically hanging at their knees. What was it about lesbians that straight guys found irresistible?

  “No.” Woodruff cleared his throat and redirected his gaze to Caro, sweeping it appreciatively over her body. “You, on the other hand...”

  Suddenly she remembered she was also still naked. And recalled all the things she’d done tonight—in full view of Tim and all the other men in the room.

  “Touch my woman and you’ll need more than fifty stitches,” Mick said in a low growl, getting to his feet, pulling her up with him.

  Woodruff gave him an assessing glare. “I suppose it was too much to hope you really were the Teddie Killer. Looks like you’re off the hook for this one, McGraw. But that doesn’t mean I have to like you or what you’re doing to Caroline.”

  “But I do,” she whispered, wrapped her arms around Mick’s neck again, inundated with an overwhelming love for the only man on earth who truly understood her, and relief that he would be okay. That they had made it through this ordeal.

  She reached up and kissed him, so thoroughly the men got real quiet around them. And suddenly she realized she didn’t mind being nude in front of them. She enjoyed it. She loved the power it gave her over them, loved the way they looked at her, the fantasies she invoked in their minds.

  But most of all, she loved the lust her naked devotion aroused in Mick.

  It’s all about fulfilling the fantasy, she had told herself over and over throughout the past week.

  But what happened when the fantasy became real?

  Not just in the sense of sexual role-playing, but truly real? What, then, happened to reality?

  “Come on,” she said to him, giving him a last kiss, running her hands over the planes of his broad, muscular chest. Reality looked pretty damn good, that’s what. “Let’s go to the hospital and get those stitches over with.”

  “And then?” he asked. As if he really wasn’t sure what would happen now with them. As though he might actually believe her submission had only been an act.

  She smiled at his uncertainty. Loving him more with each moment that went by. Knowing she was truly safe with him. That she could trust him with her love. With her body. With her happiness. And that there was no one else on earth she’d rather spend her life with.

  Chapter 29

  Mick unfurled his body, stretched it out on top of Caro so he covered every inch of her, from their entwined fingers above her head, to her ankles, held firmly in place by the muscles of his lower legs. The slice in his back throbbed dully under the thick bandage, but not enough to stop him.

  They had made it through a night of hospitals, statements, a veritable media frenzy and even Captain Trujillo, after which Mick had brought Caro back to his apartment. The whole time he’d felt someone following them, lurking in the shadows, watching their every move. Ratcheting up his nerves. Now they were in his bed, and he was nervous as hell, restless as a caged animal.

  This was it. The final act. The place where his fate would be decided. What he had worked so hard for over the past two months. The final resolution of his guilt and his impotent fury.

  He looked down at his lover and tightened his hold on her. He wanted to cover her, to dominate her, to hold her down so she could never move out from under him. To subsume her body into his, her life into his, her soul into his. To keep her safe. He hated that he’d had to use her like this. Despised himself for putting her in danger, especially in this last unsuspected scene. But he was too close to turn back now. And she’d made her choice. As had he.

  Damn he wanted her.

  Putting his mouth over hers, he thrust his tongue into her. Tasting her sweet tension, her desire for him. Her eagerness for his possession.

  Nerves on fire, he rubbed his stiff cock against her clit and felt her squirm.

  “Who do you belong to?” he asked into her mouth.

  “You, Master,” she whispered, chasing him with her tongue.

  He allowed her to kiss him, her passion seeping into him like a powerful drug, calming his fears, then he tore his mouth away. “Who do you love?” he demanded softly.

  “You, Master,” she answered, breathless. “I love you.”

  He grunted in approval, feeling her tight little nipples poke into his chest. God, he loved that. But he wanted more.

  More.

  He teased her clit even harder, making her pant.

  “What would you like your Master to do to you?”

  She whimpered, low and sweet and pleading, just how he liked it. “Tie me up and fuck me, Master. Fuck me hard, so I can feel you deep inside me.”

  Her words dizzied him. He loved how Caro loved to be dominated. She loved to be tied up, and he loved doing it to her. He reveled in the power. Thrilled to the struggle she put up. Basked in her inevitable submission to his will.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he said, the tension in his muscles crackling anew. Perfect. This was exactly how he needed her. He wanted to control the situation totally, and this was the best way. The only way.

  Sitting up stiffly, he reached for the orange scarves from his kit bag next to the bed, but his elbow knocked the gun on the night stand to the floor. With a sharp oath he swiped it up and stuck it in its usual place under his pillow, then grabbed the scarves.

  “Wrists,” he ordered her, fighting to get his fingers to stop trembling.

  Caro lifted her wrists and gazed up at him expectantly. At her look, his heart swelled with feeling for the strong woman who’d chosen to become his pleasure slave. “Have I told you lately how much I love you, little slave?” he murmured, swiftly binding the scarves around her wrists. “How lost I’d be without you?”

  Her lips parted, her eyes suddenly vulnerable. “Really? Do you really love me, Mick?”

  He paused in his task. “I do, Caroline.” He took a cleansing breath. “No matter what happens, always know that I love you.”

  “What do you mean—”

  He cut off her question with a kiss, and finished binding her. “I’m tying this in a slip-knot,” he said, pulling at the scarf on her right wrist. Just in case. “But no fingernails in the back, all right?”

  She winced, eying the white bandage that wound around him, protecting his wounded back. “Your cut... Are you sure you want to do this tonight?”

  Unsmiling, he met her gaze. “I have no choice. And neither do you.” He yanked the knot taut on her left wrist, then threaded the two scarves through the spindles of the headboard and tied them behind it.

  Her tongue swiped over her lips. “Mick—”

  “Master!” he barked, making her jump. He leaned down close to her face. “I love you, but never forget, when we are in this bed I own you. You’ll do everything I say, exactly as I tell you.”

  With satisfaction, he felt a tremor go through her body and she went soft under him. “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  After a slight hesitation, he whipped out three more scarves and tied one securely around her eyes. Then he bound her ankles to the corners of the footboard, leaving her close to helpless.

  “Is this—”

  “Do you question me?” he said sharply, causing her to shrink into the mattress.

  “No, Master.”

  “Good. Because if you question me I’d have to punish you.”

  Her knees splayed reflexively. “
Yes, Master. If you think I deserve it.”

  “Spread your legs wider,” he ordered, and watched as she scooted down a bit and spread them far apart, exposing her smooth-shaved sex to his view. His cock jerked up, hard and hungry. “Stay exactly like that,” he told her, then rose and walked out of the room.

  He went to the dining table and fetched a chair, deliberately scraping its legs on the carpet as he brought it back into the bedroom and placed it at the foot of the bed with a thunk.

  “What are you doing?” Unable to see, she tilted her head toward the noise. Her hands flexed nervously.

  “I’m expecting company,” he said, and she caught her breath.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Who would you like it to be?” he countered. She remained silent. “Bobby?” he pressed. “Or Tim? Or maybe Cody...”

  Her body undulated as she pulled at her bonds. “I only want you, Mick. Nobody else.”

  He felt a surge of gratification. Just before he heard a light click from the front door, which he’d deliberately left unlocked. To let in the shadows. Her head jerked toward the nearly inaudible sound.

  “Baby,” she said, her voice rising to a squeak. “What’s going on?”

  He swallowed heavily. It was time.

  “Just let it happen,” he said, and walked to his kit bag to fetch a pair of leather gloves. “Trust me.”

  Too late to stop now.

  ***

  Caro started to tremble. Small shivers coursed through her powerless muscles. Whatever was going on, she didn’t like it. Not after the events they’d already endured tonight. She wanted to be alone with Mick. To confirm for herself she hadn’t lost him now the case was over. That he truly loved her.

  What was he up to?

  “Let what happen?” she asked, but he remained mute. She heard him walk around the room, stopping at the open bedroom door. Then something rustled and the chair seat squeaked. Had someone else come in? After a moment stretched out in echoing silence, somebody approached the bed.

  “Who’s there?” she whispered, trembling even harder. “What are you going to do to me?” She tugged at the scarves tying her to the bed, scraped at her blindfold with a shoulder, but they didn’t budge.