“It's my turn on the rota, jefe,” Juan retorted blandly. The other man's dedication and loyalty shocked even Martinez, whose troops were blindly loyal to him in so many different facets, they were uncountable. “I will be fine until my relief comes.”
Jerking a shoulder, Martinez murmured, “As you wish. No disturbances tonight, Juan.”
Juan smirked. “I knew that already, boss. Buenas noches.”
He closed the door behind him, but didn't lock it. This door was never locked. Not even on nights like tonight. His office was, and there he had a closed-door policy. But here, if anyone needed to talk to him, they could do so in his private quarters. It was a backwards attitude, but it worked.
In many ways, he ran the gang like a feudal lord. He'd discerned it was the best way to keep control of the troops, the little guys. They were the ones who were collateral damage, the ones with the least responsibility, but more likely to get caught in the crossfire.
He rewarded that with his trust. If they needed to talk to him, that was the least he could do, he figured. And so, he made himself as available as his time allowed.
As the door shut behind him, he eyed the pool of clothes in the vestibule and had to palm his dick. The thick sludge of arousal was like a kick to the knees. Just knowing that she'd obeyed had everything inside him standing to attention. The idea that she was naked, somewhere in his apartment, was like a blow to the back of the head.
He'd pictured her nude in this way so often it was hard to discern the difference between fantasy and reality.
God, he wanted her. Martinez was certain he'd never wanted anything so badly in his life. The notion frightened him, made his heart pump with anxiety, but he had to let the fear go. He'd started down this path for a reason, and tonight was about the culmination of close to two years' worth of desire.
He didn't call out for her. She'd been gone about an hour, and if her earlier nap was any indication, she was fatigued enough to be asleep in his bed by now.
Quickly assuring himself she wasn't in the lounge, he headed for the bedroom where the lights were off. He pressed the switch that set the dim lights on the floor and saw the lump under the covers. A smile twitched his lips at that. A part of him liked that she could relax here. It boded well for his plans.
He walked deeper into the room, his gaze zeroing in on the mattress and the women atop it. His focus, his being, every bit of himself was directed on her. His need, arousal, the simmering attraction, it was all about to come true, and like a little boy at an amusement park, he was utterly fixated on what was about to occur.
He didn't realize the lump on the bed hadn't moved since he'd entered the room.
He didn't hear the whisper of footsteps slinking behind him on his way to the woman who'd been plaguing him for too many years, and when he bent down to touch her shoulder, to awaken Eva, he heard the whistle of sound too late.
A hand slashed through the air, slamming into the side of his throat, paralyzing his lungs, his vocal chords, and making him stagger for breath. As his knees crumpled, his left arm was raised, his head pulled toward it.
In less than six seconds, he could feel the blood boiling in his brain as drowsiness overtook him. He didn't even have a chance to cry out.
His knees caved in, and he dropped to the ground.
Chapter Eight
Adrenaline pumped through Eva's system like it was coke and she'd already downed four Red Bulls.
She'd only tried the drug before she'd graduated high school, and she'd vowed never to take Colombian Marching Powder ever again. The consequences of being out of control were too high, and ever since, Eva simply did not do out of control.
She was mistress of her own destiny, and it was time Martinez realized that.
Regardless of her own confidence in her strength, she was surprised at how easy it had been to down the gang leader. She knew for herself that bulky muscles didn't necessarily mean strength. She was agile, fit, and swift. A deadly trio when it came to downing guys who weighed two times her body weight.
As it was, she had to suck in a few breaths before her brain shifted back into gear. She bent down and checked Martinez's pulse. It was strong, if a little thready, but that wouldn't take long to balance itself out. She'd cut the blood flow to his carotid and already his body was getting back online.
Her intention hadn't been to kill him, but it was a dangerous move. Using a body's pressure points against itself was never easy, and in a man of Martinez's weight, she'd held on long enough to ensure success. Death might not have been far away...and she didn't mean only his.
Her death would be entwined with Martinez's. Juan would see to that.
She didn't have long to prepare him for her intentions. Some men could be knocked out for twenty seconds, others for a minute. She needed to move, and fast.
Unconscious, the man still exuded power. She studied his eyelashes for a second, finding them fascinating in repose. The gentleness was unexpected, the innocence of sleep even hitting a guilty man where it hurt.
She trailed a hand over his jaw, knowing she might not be able to do that again, and reveled in the secret caress. Her hand trailed down, reaching for the knot in his tie, and she unfastened it quickly. Next came his jacket then his shirt.
She'd located some neckties earlier. Sleep hadn't come as easily as it had in his office. The prospect of the evening ahead had filled her with dread, as well as need. The two dual emotions were too different, too distinctive to ignore. She could not relinquish control, she couldn't. As she lay there, the city at her back, her body nude beneath the sheets, she'd planned.
And so, neckties were at the side of the bed, ready for her use. She'd have preferred nylon ties, but not even gang lords stored them in their apartments beside breakfast cereal and aftershave.
She tugged his body, grunting with the effort it took to heft him into position. She was immensely grateful that the bed was floor level, as by the time he was dead center, his arms raised over his head, she was breathing heavily.
Estimating that ten seconds had passed, she moved faster. Grabbing his wrist, she held it against the low bedhead and wrapped the tie over the silver pommel and attached his hand to it. She used another tie to fasten his forearm to the lower rail on the bedhead and did the same on the other side. Eva hurried her pace, uncertain as to how long he'd be out, but knowing she'd only feel secure, in control, once he was positioned to her satisfaction.
The ties were tight. Too tight, really. But he was strong. She doubted strong enough to break through the silk weave of the fabric, but rage added extra power, and she countered that with the taut knots and the double bindings.
In her mind's eye, she swapped the ties with hemp rope and felt everything inside her clamp down. Oh, to be able to pop out to a hardware store and really take advantage of his unconscious body.
Shuddering with the power of such a thought and aware that she now had a little time to move as he was secured, she went to work on his belt and took a second to put on his shirt, fasten the buttons up to her cleavage then add the belt. He was tall enough, and she was short enough that the soft linen covered her to mid-thigh.
She could have redressed earlier, but his believing in her compliance had been elemental to her surprise attack. As it was, she couldn't believe how well it had gone, and even as she unfastened his pants and started to tug them down his legs, a part of her wondered if her PTSD had really driven her insane. For real, this time.
This was more than risky. It was suicidal.
Martinez had treated her relatively fairly so far, but he was ruthless. He was bloodthirsty, and he wasn't afraid to fight dirty and to the death.
She was fucking around with a rabid pit bull, but rather than feel fear, for the first time in too long, she felt alive.
The thought was enough to bring tears to her eyes, as powerful and painful emotions flooded her system. Each brush of her fingers against the soft skin of his thighs, as the hard, crisp hairs caressed her skin,
she felt to her core.
The depth of sensation each touch triggered in her was painful. She'd been missing this for so long. Had seen the world through a fog, one that dulled her senses, made her half-blind. It was something of her own psyche's creation, but that didn't make it easier to escape.
She sucked in a breath, reveled in the scents that powered through her olfactory system. Expensive aftershave, the starch on his shirt that had left faint traces on his skin, the scent of man, male musk. She wanted to curl up in that smell. Wished she could cover herself in it.
Another shudder worked through her as she unfastened his shoes, slipped them off his feet and pulled down his socks, before tugging his pants completely off his legs.
His cock was flaccid, but even in that state, generous. She'd expected nothing less. God couldn't be so cruel as to make a man look like Martinez and not follow through with the promise.
She wanted to touch it. Her fingers curled in on themselves. She had to fight the craving, had to. It was wrong. So wrong to touch a man like that when he was unconscious. But what was right about this situation?
The thought was comforting to her conscience, but she had to remain focused. There was still work to be done. After, she could touch. She could revel.
After.
The silent promise fired her onwards. The small pommels at the base of the bed that filled the corners of the groove made into the floor where the mattress rested, acted as her posts. She tied his ankles to them and surveyed her staked out foe.
Not that he was her foe. He might feel that way, though.
She had one more tie left, and she rolled it up into a tight ball, and rounded the mattress again. Kneeling beside him, she tugged at his chin, wiggled his mouth open, and placed the tie in his mouth, as deeply as she could without making him choke.
The fabric was unwieldy, and in comparison to a ball gag, useless, but she needed it to stave off the first struggles. He needed to hear her talk first. Then, she'd release the gag.
Once he was trussed to her satisfaction, Eva sank back on her heels and studied the creature before her.
He was glorious.
She could feel the slick juices of her arousal pooling in her core. She could feel the unsteady heartbeat that indicated excitement. Her lungs burned then raced for oxygen, and through it all, she had to fight the need to touch his shaft.
Eva closed her eyes, and when that didn't create enough distance, she pressed her palms into the sockets, pushing down hard. The aching pressure settled her, centered her even. Enough to move her hands away and look at him once more without wanting to defile him.
The urge disturbed her, but there was so much in her head that frequently concerned her, it was just something else to add to the list.
She sat there, on her knees, embracing the ache, needing it, for endless moments. How long, she couldn't have said, and the time didn't matter. She couldn't move, didn't want to. He had to wake up, to see her seated there. It was important.
If she left and he awoke, he might struggle, panic. He'd think she'd tried to escape and had left him there to rot, when that was the last thing she'd intended. As it was, if he saw her, there would be rage. Rage was good. Panic wasn't.
She'd felt panic enough in her life not to wish that on anyone else. Even if they were threatening her life to make her fuck them.
Well, she'd comply, but in her own way.
Her terms. Her agreement.
When her knees began to pain her, and she started to shift, she realized his muscles tautened once then released. She wouldn't have noticed if her eyes weren't trained on him. His breathing hadn't altered, his eyelids hadn't fluttered, but that involuntary twitch told her more than he realized.
“I know your head is probably pounding, and I'm sorry about that. I'm not going to kill you. I just want you to know that.”
Whether that was comforting or not, she didn't know. She hoped it was. Death was the last thing she wanted to rain on Martinez. She hadn't spared him from jail to waste his life the instant he burst into her world.
His eyes popped open, and she saw the lack of haze in the chocolatey depths. He'd been awake some time and had managed to fool her.
Interesting.
As well as the awareness, she saw anger, confusion, and if she wasn't mistaken, fear.
The combination made her clit pulse.
“I'm not going to hurt you. Not in the way an enemy would.” Her voice was husky as she continued, “You're tied up and gagged because I need you to listen to me. I need you to realize that I'm in control here.” She paused. “I'll move the gag, but if you scream out and Juan comes in, I'll kill him.”
When he studied her half-naked form, she realized why he'd done that. There was no attraction in that shrewd glance, but there had been an assessment.
“I can kill with my bare hands. No weapons, nothing to help me. And Juan is a good shot, but I doubt he's as good with his hands as I am. You think you've seen what I'm capable of, but you haven't. Not really.” She pursed her lips. “I don't want to gag you, but I want your promise that you won't yell out. Will you do that for me?”
His eyes narrowed, but he nodded.
“Remember, I'll kill him,” she warned. “Then, you'll be left with no right-hand man and a power struggle to boot.”
Those chocolate orbs turned into slits. Her words had hit their mark.
Good.
She reached the tab of silk she'd left pouting between his lips, and quick as a flash, tugged out the tie, keeping her fingers away from his teeth so he wouldn't be able to bite her.
“You crazy bitch,” he ground out, his voice a rasp.
“Do you want some water?” she asked, ignoring his remark.
“No, I want you to let me go.”
“I can't do that. Not until you let me explain.”
“Explain what? That you're fucking insane?”
“Strange how I'm the insane one, but you threaten me with murder and tell me that you'll put a gun to my head if I don't fuck you.” She shrugged. “I see this as my defense.”
“You're insane because doing something like this to a guy like me is idiocy.”
She'd made the argument herself, but she couldn't help but ask, “And what kind of guy are you?”
“A man with more firepower than some countries’ fucking armies.”
Eva smiled. “Fat lot of good that's done you here.” At his growl, she patted his chest, let her fingers move through the whorls of hair interspersed with the delineated muscles that tensed and released in rejection of her touch. “This is the only way I could get us on an equal footing.”
“You call this equal?” he snapped.
“We're both naked, aren't we?”
He grunted, eyed her shirt with distaste. “You’re getting there, I guess. This was not how I imagined tonight ending.”
“That's where you're wrong. It hasn't even started yet.”
“It fucking has. Whatever you have planned, you can back the fuck off.”
“I don't think you're in a position to make that decision.”
“What? You're going to rape me?” he jeered.
“I don't think that will be necessary,” she remarked, and finally did as she'd been dying to, touched his shaft.
A moan escaped her the instant she cupped the soft, flaccid flesh. Her belly did a somersault as she felt it begin to harden at her caressing fingers. He swore under his breath, and she noticed his belly muscles clenched down, almost like he was trying to stop himself from being turned on, but she wouldn't let him. She tightened her fist and jerked him off carefully. Her fist was tight, but not as tight as she'd have liked. Now was not the time to freak him out with how much she wanted to hurt him.
Softly, softly catchee monkey.
He shuddered at her continued ministrations, and she didn't stop the gentle masturbation until his cock was hard, the shaft weighty enough to fall back against his stomach with its own weight.
Such a simple and gentle
stimulation had caused such a strong reaction, one that pleased her greatly.
“I will sleep with you,” she murmured, her eyes on his cock. “I will fuck you. I will please myself with your body, but you can't please yourself with mine.”
He shook his head. “That wasn't what we agreed upon.”
“I never said yes or no. I merely went along with your plans. Because, if I hadn't, Rico and I might be swimming down to Hades together.”
“I wouldn't have killed you,” he retorted, his voice hoarse.
“No, I didn't think you would, but I knew you wouldn't stop with this. I knew you wouldn't relent.”
“Why not just run?”
“And have you chase after me?” Her laugh was mocking. “I'll comply with your deal because I want to. But I can only do so on my own terms.”
“Release me, Eva, and we can talk about those terms.”
She sighed. “I can't do that, Martinez. But, I promise that whatever happens tonight, you will enjoy it. Now, what is your safe word?”
His eyes widened at that. “My safe word?” He almost sputtered out the question.
“Yes. That's the only concession I will give you.”
“Fuck you and your concessions.”
Eva merely shrugged. “Fine. No safe words. Just let me know if you feel faint.” When his eyes widened, she couldn't help it. She laughed. “I don't mean because I'm going to beat you black and blue. Your head—” She tapped her temple. “You might have a headache. I don't want to cause you unnecessary pain.”
With his eyes bugging out again, embarrassment flooded her, turning her cheeks pink. In the dark, he wouldn't be able to see, and she was glad of that. Her inexperience could turn this into a farce, and so, she did what women have done since Neanderthals roamed the Earth: turned the tables on him.
She'd seen scenes like this more than she could count. Had masturbated to porn where the woman had dominated the man. But she'd never, ever, done this in real life. Sex hadn't been a part of her existence for years and years.
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