by May Sage
Fuck, what the hell was that thing and how come she'd only heard of it now?
Ryn was pretty sure she couldn't take any more, so of course Desmond chose that moment to wrap his mouth around one of her nipples and suck at it, all while pinching the other one between his fingers, playing with it, twisting and pulling at it. Just when it started to be painful, he let go, and his hand cupped her breast, caressing it softly. She was breathing hard, wincing at the effort it took to fight the growing pressure building up inside her. Desmond pushed her underwear aside, and curved one finger inside her heat. Then another one. Shit, he was so very gifted with his hands.
She remembered she'd been asked to keep quiet. Shit. She'd been yelling like a banshee. No doubt she'd pay for that later.
"How are you doing, beautiful?"
"Am I allowed to come?"
"No."
"You're a fucking asshole."
He chuckled low, before pressing his mouth to hers. "Fucking asshole...now talking about planting ideas. Lean forward. Hold on to the bottom of the bed with one of your hands. You'll need to take two steps to reach it. Keep that wand in place."
She welcomed the invitation to move, but fuck, it didn't help; each step changed the angle and increased the unnerving tension. She bent down and reached forward blindly until her left hand reached the bed, and held on to it.
"Are you ready?"
Good question. She had no idea how to answer it, given the fact that she had no idea what was coming. Was he really going to fuck her ass like he'd suggested? Part of her hoped he would. God knew she needed the pressure to stop. She'd never been so close to the edge for such an extended amount of time. Keeping herself from coming while the wand was still pounding against her clit like a goddamn electric screwdriver was nothing short of torture.
"I think so?"
"Good."
Something pressed on her asshole; cold, hard, but too small to be his dick. The butt plug. She pushed out against it to let it go in easily, and groaned when it filled her up so completely. Her legs were cotton, her insides, molten lava. She was going to fucking explode.
"Five hits, a sixth for most definitely not staying silent, and another one for moving your arm," Desmond said. "You will count them down out loud. And you will remember you can use any of your safe words."
She heard a sudden whoosh, followed by a slap as his leather paddle hit the skin of her butt cheeks, hard. She yelled out, although if there was any pain, her body was taking in too many sensations to notice it. Her muscles, already tensing harder than they ever had during any sort of exercise, tightened and the butt plug resisted against it. Oh fuck, there was no way she could stop it, she was going to come. The second hit was harder, just a little higher on her buttocks; the third came on her thighs. By this point, Ryn was begging, "Please, please, please, let me come!"
“Count! You’ve earned another one.”
Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.
She couldn't hold it much longer.
"Not yet."
The fourth, fifth, and sixth hits were all on her ass. She counted them out loud.
Before the seventh fell on her sensitive skin, she yelled, “Hobbit.”
Desmond immediately stopped, and walked around her to look at her face, frowning in concern.
“Are you okay? Should we stop?”
She shook her head weakly. Fuck no, she most definitely didn’t want to stop. She would have just shattered in millions of pieces if he’d carried on right then.
When she could speak, she smiled and said, “I just needed a second. I’m okay now.”
Desmond pressed his lips on her forehead. “You’re doing so, so well, beautiful. All right. Last one. Ready?”
She nodded, and he returned to his initial position. Ryn found herself pushing her ass higher up in the air.
His paddle went down again, this time on her leg.
“Seven,” she whispered.
She wondered if she might pass out. What the hell was he going to tell the ambulance if they had to pick her up now?
She heard a ruffling noise and next thing she knew, Desmond was putting her panties aside and pushing his long, hot, hard cock deep side her. She screamed. It shouldn't be possible to be so fucking full, so tight, and stretched to the max. Wet as she was, he'd fully lodged himself in one thrust. Had he not told her to hold on to the bed, she was certain she would have fallen; her legs couldn't carry her. Desmond held on to her hips, keeping her ass up in the air, pulled out slowly, and pushed back inside her, languorously, like he had all the time in the world. She was going to go insane.
Her right hand joined her left on the bed, and immediately the paddle fell on her ass again, hitting it hard.
"What did I say? The wand stays on your clit."
"I can't keep it on my fucking clit and not come, you sadist!"
"You can, and you will."
She had many a thing to say to him about that, but the next instant, there was a hard ball between her teeth, preventing her from uttering any distinctive words. A volley of insults flew out, but he could hear none of it, given the fact that he'd put the ball gag in her mouth. Damn him.
If he'd threatened anything at all—particularly more paddling—she would have let go, but he'd said he'd stop the scene. No fucking way was she letting that happen.
"Until the gag comes off, you will use hand signals instead of your safe words, Kathryn," he said conversationally, his hips meeting hers at every other word. His rhythm was picking up.
By this point, she felt almost numb, and dizzy. She wasn't sure she'd survive the experience.
"Hold three fingers up to say stop. Two slow. One for pause. Nod if you understand."
She bobbed her head.
"Good girl. Soon. Be good, and I'll let you come soon."
She held onto that promise like her life depended on it.
Ryn was fairly certain feeling more desperate than she did now was entirely impossible. He proved her wrong. His hands grabbed something on the floor and wrapped around her nipples again. She yelped as something clicked around them. Were those tears that she felt on her cheeks?
"Thumbs up if you can deal with the clamps, Ryn. Two fingers up if you want them off."
She considered holding two up, but Desmond started to caress her breasts, and she found herself holding her thumb up, all the while groaning, grunting, and moaning. At least he wasn't demanding her silence.
"Good. Get to your knees. Your legs are going weak."
They'd been beyond weak for a while now. Ryn welcomed the reprieve. The marble floor was cold and hard under her knees. She appreciated that, too.
Desmond tilted his pelvis, and thrust hard at a different angle, hitting right on the mystical spot no man had ever found. She couldn't help herself now. She came, and came, and came. Desmond was done being gentle; he pounded her hard from behind, fucking her through the longest, hardest, most painful and mind-blowing orgasm of her life.
She was a limp form, entirely unable to move, think, talk. She didn't even feel him carry her to his bed and tuck her in. Ryn had no idea how much time passed between then and the moment when she blinked to find Desmond holding a mug of hot chocolate in front of her.
"Does that smell good?" he asked, smiling at her eagerness as she wrapped her hands around the hot drink.
"Divine."
She took a long sip and moaned in pleasure, closing her eyes to appreciate it.
"Sub drop. It happens," he told her with a wink. "Well, when you're with someone who knows what to do, in any case."
And there was no doubt that he most certainly did.
"How are you doing? Was the first scene too intense?"
He seemed genuinely concerned.
"I could have died of orgasm denial. Seriously. I'm pretty sure I kinda did."
He laughed. "It definitely didn't feel like fucking a corpse. You're so very responsive. How are your knees? Your nipples? I put some cream on them while you were passed out; you should be all r
ight by morning, but there will be some bruising."
She drank some more chocolate. "I feel great. I feel sexy, and beautiful, and cared for." After some thought, she added, "And alive. Above all, I feel alive."
35
Korol
Desmond let Ryn sleep as long as he could. He knew just how much he'd exhausted her the previous night. After the first scene in front of the bed, he took her slowly from the side, while she was recovering. A couple of hours later, he woke up to find her straddling him, claiming what she wanted. That had been a bit of a mind-fuck, but he got used to her on top.
She'd gone back to sleep. Desmond had glanced at his phone, and seen that Lillie had sent him a text.
"He's in the building."
Desmond sighed, and left the room to call the Donaldson brother currently in charge.
"I'm heading out for an hour or so. Is everything in place?"
"We got it," Taylor replied. "We have eyes on the apartment and men in the lobby."
Despite the fact that he knew she'd be safe, leaving her as she slept was physically painful. He did it nonetheless, taking his car to get to The Tower.
Lillie was charming a handful of men in dark suits in the lobby when he got there. Tall, broad, tattooed men who looked like they bench pressed cars before breakfast.
Desmond joined them, and greeted them warmly.
"Alexei, Valery, Dima, Maksim, Daniil," he called them by name, "It's been too long, cousins."
"Korol," said Alexei, greeting him by a name that didn’t quite belong to him.
Back when his family had moved from Russia, his grandfather, Piotr, chose to change his name to Peter King, but Piotr's brother, Vadik, kept Korol. The five men in front of him were family; the kind of family one didn't quite understand, didn't agree with, and didn't trust. Family nonetheless, when it mattered.
"Dobriy vyecher. Dmitri was surprised you wanted to talk."
Desmond lifted a brow. "Why would he? I speak to him most weeks."
"Not outside of football practice and not unexpectedly. He's waiting in your office."
Desmond nodded before bumping fists with the rest of the group. "You're good?" he asked Lillie.
"I'm great. It's not often that I get to see the Korol boys up close. You guys have always been so mysterious in your secret rooms."
He let her get back to her gushing and flirting. She could handle herself, and besides, his cousins weren't the kind of guys women had a reason to fear.
Desmond headed to his office, opening the door to find his eldest cousin sitting behind his desk, a book in hand.
Dmitri lifted his eyes from the volume and smiled.
"I like your style, man. Intimidating. Easy to wash if there's a little blood spilled."
"I'm not in your trade, cousin. The amount of blood spilled in my job is sadly underwhelming."
Dmitri sighed dramatically. "You do like to take the fun out of everything. Now. Your charming CEO informed me that you'd like to talk to me. Business, or are you thinking about old Ded's birthday?"
"Ah, yes. He's turning, what, ninety-eight?"
"Ninety-seven. He says he wants to go to Vegas. Marry a dancer while he can still get it up."
"Did you book him a flight?"
"You know I did."
Desmond laughed, heading to his mini bar and pouring a glass of the old bottle of vodka he kept at the back for just such reunions.
"Enough small talk, cousin. You don't do business with me, I don't do business with you. Those are the rules. Tell me what I'm doing here."
"I'd like to call in a favor."
"Callum got me a car a time or five when I was in a pinch. Maverick got me five hundred grand in cash in under an hour. You, I don't owe any favors to."
"But I will owe you one after you help."
Dmitri lifted a brow.
"I thought you liked to keep your hands clean."
His cousins weren't outlawed, technically. In fact, most of them were viewed as reputable investors. Under the surface, they ran a firm of very high-profile hitmen. Politicians, royals, drug dealers, governmental agencies; they worked for just about anyone who could afford a seven-figure fee, although Desmond knew they'd refused a contract or two in the past. The Korols had no problem killing bad men, good men, and anything in between. However, they didn't touch women, children, or great men.
"Some things are more important than staying out of your way, cousin."
"Ah. A woman. Tell me."
It took a while to explain about Ryn, her sister, Wallace, the tape, and everything else, but he disclosed it all. Dmitri listened in silence. Once he was done, he downed the vodka.
"No favor owed. This is a family matter. We take care of our own." Dmitri got to his feet. "Tell your woman she's safe."
Desmond hesitated, wondering if he should tell his cousin not to murder Wallace. That was probably the right thing to do...but at the end of the day, he really didn't feel like saying it.
"You can't kill the sister," he warned.
Ryn might be pissed at her little sister, but that didn't mean that she wanted her dead.
"We don't harm women, cousin. You can take care of that one. And you can rest easy. We won't kill the worm, either. Death is too easy for men like him."
Desmond decided he preferred not to ask questions. He had no doubt that Dmitri would get the job done somehow. And he sure as fuck didn't want to be in Wallace's shoes when he did.
"How's your papa?"
"Same. Some days, I'm me, some days, he sees Marvin. Good, overall. Still beating my sorry ass at chess."
Dmitri laughed. "My father and I took him shooting the other day. He got five bullseyes out of five. Once a Korol, always a Korol, whether or not you translate the name." His smile faltered. "Alzheimer's is a bitch. You take good care of him."
"He took good care of us."
"All of us." Dmitri nodded, no doubt remembering the Sarabeth’s breakfasts, shows, tours, and Saturday afternoons at the Long Island house. "Now if you don't mind, I have a date with the most delicious redhead."
Desmond smiled. "Same, man. Same."
Ryn was still asleep by the time he got back home. He joined her under the sheets after setting an alarm clock.
It was dawn now; she'd only slept about four hours, and he, two.
"Morning, Ryn," he said, kissing her forehead.
She moaned in protest and wrapped his covers tighter around her shoulders.
"You can sleep, or we can go to the Caribbean for the rest of the day."
Wallace was displeased. It had been days now, and he had had no news from the useless whore. She should have something to tell him by now, surely.
He knew that that damn slut, Kathryn, had something to do with his arrest. Although the Kings' lawyers had been careful to leave her out of the court case, they were citing files and details they wouldn't have had access to without her help. And the fucking video shot in his office? The camera must have been on her, he was sure of it. She'd been careful to make him say just the right things. Fuck it. Now, he was toast because of her. Dumb cunt. He'd show her. He'd fucking ruin her. She deserved it.
His lawyer had said that he'd be in for ten years, max. No way was he waiting ten fucking years to make that bitch pay for what she'd done to him, so he'd gotten his lawyer to get in touch with her sister. Nat had come running at the first mention of money, like the whore she was. She’d been all in.
But it had been over a week.
He restlessly paced in the cell he shared with some dumb Latino kid. Hearing a buzz go off, his head popped up, and he walked to the bars eagerly. Was it for him? He was dying for news.
One of the guards on duty walked in the corridor. There was another set of steps.
Wallace frowned, a little confused to see a handsome, well-dressed young man instead of his usual lawyer.
The man's suit was a lot more expensive than Ben Plucket's, that was for sure.
The man turned to the guard. "Is this he?"<
br />
The guard nodded. "Yes. Wallace Clarke."
A buzzer went off and his cell, along with the rest of the floor, unlocked. Wallace frowned. Something was wrong, off schedule. They weren't supposed to be out for a while.
He stepped to the door.
"Tut, tut, tut," the man said dismissively. "Not you, my friend. You stay."
He smiled pleasantly. There was something cruel in that smile.
The Latino boy rushed out of the door. Wallace swallowed a protest. Something told him he didn't want to be left alone with the stranger.
"You have half an hour," said the guard.
"Half an hour will be quite sufficient, thank you."
"Hey, hey!" Wallace exclaimed in protest. "You can't do that. You can't just let him..."
The man was six foot three, at least, and well-built under his clothes, but Wallace was still shocked when he grabbed his throat with his left hand and pulled him off his feet, choking him.
After ten unending seconds, the stranger tilted his head before letting go.
"Rule number one, Wallace. You do not speak. You listen. You will find that disobedience does not come without consequences."
* * *
Dmitri Korol smiled. He was going to enjoy himself.
36
The Winning Side
“This is totally worth the sleep deprivation!” Ryn purred, extending her legs into the sand.
She would never say another word against the heavenly island. There was no pollution in the air, no traffic, no noise except that of the waves crashing on the shore. While she was at it, she was also done complaining about private jets. Fuck waiting in line for two hours. She totally got it now.
Desmond laughed at her side. "I distinctly remember you snoring for a few hours, at least."
She pouted. "I do not snore. And if I did, a gentleman would certainly not mention it."
He blinked in confusion. "Whatever have I done to make you believe I'm a gentleman?"
She laughed, feeling like she was in the middle of a weird-ass dream. If anyone woke her up, she'd punch them in the throat.