The black leather skirt I’m wearing barely covers my ass and I find myself tugging at it self-consciously as I exit the car. The shirt I wear is more like a black leather triangle of material that ties in the back with a leather corset type lace—at least it serves to cover my augmented breasts. Suddenly I no longer feel sexy, but vulnerable. As if reading my mind, he leans in and whispers, “you’ll do fine.” I can only hope he is correct, after all…this is a matter of life and death…
Miller
She looks so fucking hot. Everything in me wants to turn the car around and go home. That...or bend her ass over the hood of the car and fuck her brains out. I toss the valet my keys and nod at the doorman as he opens the door, acknowledging me by name. People know I’m here and I haven’t even graced the doors yet. I feel her lean into me and it feels good to know I am her anchor in shark infested waters—this is where the most dominate sharks in the business congregate.
“You have to check that heat” the large doorman states. As badly as I hate to, this is Diego’s turf, not mine—his turf, his rules.
“Both!” He stoically commands. I can’t help but smirk knowing my boyish charm, looks, and demeanor are seen right through by Diego’s trained men. These boys know me all too well. However, he is so focused on firearms he misses the blade housed in my boot. Stormy and I look more like bikers tonight than anything else.There isn’t a damn place on her anywhere to hide a weapon due to the skimpy outfit that she has on.
“Boss is over there,” he nods. We make our way through the crowd and in the back is a table roped off in a reserved area. Women surround a man seated in a white suit casually leaning back with his arm draped over the back of a circular booth. He looks as if he owns the world and I know all too well… it’s only because he does. This is his world and he rules it with an iron fist.
His eyes never leave Stormy as he speaks to me. “Miller, so good to see you. I heard the rumor a beautiful blonde was by your side of late. I’m sure many hearts are broken, but I can see why you are off the market.”
“You know me, I never was on the market and as far as she is concerned, she has no fucking choice—I own her.”
“Still the same, I see—taking what you want and making no apologies for it.”
“It’s in my DNA,” I chuckle.
I cut my eyes at Stormy to see how she is handling the attention of one of the most dangerous Colombian drug lords in the country and her eyes are locked on me.
“Good girl,” I whisper in her ear before turning my attention back to Diego.
“Sit, we need to talk.”
“Vete´. Get the fuck out of here.” He growls at the women. The women scatter, almost tripping over themselves to obey him, but not before his main lady, Selena, turns and invites Stormy to go with her. I find myself dealing with an emotion I very seldom encounter—indecision. I can't ever remember a time being this conflicted and I don’t like it.
“She will be fine with my Selena, nobody wants to deal with your crazy ass and they all know that she is with you,” Diego speaks, trying to put my mind at ease.
I crook my finger and Stormy leans in to listen. I speak low enough for no one else to hear. “You keep that fucking cell phone in your hand and either text 911 to my number or hit 1 on speed dial if you need me.”
I direct my attention towards Diego and speak, “You tell your fucking men to keep an eye on her; I don’t play when it comes to her.”
He only chuckles, “Everybody up in this mother fucker knows she’s your property and nobody wants to deal with your crazy ass.”
I wouldn’t let her go but any fear she is dealing with right now is nothing compared to what she is going to feel if she overhears the conversation I’m getting ready to have with Diego…The less she knows, the safer she is.
Stormy
I follow Selena and I notice people part out of our way. I am sure it is due to the fact she is the owner’s girlfriend.
We make our way to the bar and I order a margarita and a shot of Patron. As stereotypical as it is to order tequila in a Latin American establishment, I know the drinks will be off the charts good. I slam the Patron down and order another shot before he begins making the margarita.
“Damn girl, you’re trying to get your buzz on aren’t you? I’ve got something better than that,” Selena says.
I find myself being pulled along as soon as I grab my drink and slam the other shot down. This girl is in a hurry.
“Hey hold on I have to pay for that.”
“Your money is no good here, come on.”
I find myself almost running behind her to keep up. The slutty stripper heels I’m wearing are foreign to me. I’m doing good to walk in them, much less run. She ducks down a hallway and around a corner that leads to a door which has a name plate that says: ‘Diva’.
“Membership has its privileges,” she chuckles.
“I see,” I state, as I stare in awe of the private dressing room/bathroom we now inhabit. The room we are standing in is decorated flamboyantly in red, black, and gold colors. A black leather couch with an ornate golden coffee table in front of it sits against the wall at one end of the room. To the side there is rack of clothing that looks more like what would be worn in a strip club rather than a social hangout. A long counter with a huge lit-up mirror covers one whole wall. It is lined with expensive make-up brands, colognes, and even wigs neatly placed on it.
She locks the door and pulls a vial from the small clutch she carries and begins spreading out lines on the coffee table with a credit card she also has stashed in her clutch. The card looks like it serves dual purposes due to the fact that the fine white powder is evident on its black facing.
“What is that?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
I watch as she rolls up a bill and snorts the whole line up with ease.
“It’s the best fucking grade of cocaine available anywhere. Why else would I stay with that crazy mother fucker Diego?”
Miller
“He’s back” was all I said and I had Diego’s full attention.
“That crazy mother fucker worries me. Anyone who kills for sport and not money isn’t right in the head.”
“He was crazy when we were in Iraq, I answer.”
“Well, being crazy at war is one thing, but bringing that mindset back to the states is unacceptable. Business is business, Miller, but just killing for sport takes it to serial killer status.”
“Has he killed anyone yet?”
“Tortured some junkie and her pimp.”
“Do you know why?”
“Retribution—what else? He is a full-blown vigilante.”
“The streets aren’t safe as long as he is on them.”
“The streets aren’t safe with any of us on them. None of us have been truly right in the head since we came back; he is just full-blown crazy.”
“This stays between us. Even if he is dead wrong, we don’t turn him in. Like it or not Diego, we are all bound by blood.”
“Yeah, I know, but is hard to watch the news about a serial killer running rampant and not be able to say anything when you know who it is.”
“Doesn’t matter—like I said…Bound. By. Blood.
Stormy
My mood is great as we exit the club and get in the car we’re laughing and hanging onto each other in lover’s bliss, and then…
As soon as we get in the car, his fingers clench so roughly on my chin that I’m certain there will be bruising if he doesn’t stop squeezing. Tears stream down my face as I’m crying out for him to stop and though the valet clearly sees what is going on, he purposely turns his back ignoring what Miller is presently doing to me.
Is everyone scared of this man or is this just him turning a blind eye due to some street code?
“How much of that fucking coke did you do?”
“None! I don’t do drugs.”
He is jerking my head back so hard that it won’t go back any further as he looks up my nose for evidence
of me lying to him.
“Don’t fuck with me, Stormy; you won’t like what you see if you do. Anytime you’re presented with doing drugs, just remember what your ex did to you. You have no idea the kind of people I deal with. They would think nothing of drugging you and sending you into white slavery—not to mention you could O.D. on something. Don’t think I won’t have you tested. We did it for sex and I’ll damn sure do it for drugs. If it doesn’t come from your doctor, you better not fucking take it. You can drink if you watch it being prepared, but you better not willingly partake of street drugs. You have no idea what punishment is until you cross the line with me. Up until this point, it has been play. Do you understand me?”
“How could I not?” I wiggle my chin when he jerks his hand away and wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand as I stare out the window at the useless piece of shit valet who didn’t intervene.
I hear tires squeal as Miller takes off and for the first time since being with him, I’m contemplating how to get away from a killer…
I make my way into my condo and head for a spare bedroom. I have no intentions of sleeping with him. What was I thinking? I want him out of my life. Suddenly being holed up in my residence alone sounds like a good idea to me.
Now I’m faced with the question of ‘just how dangerous is this guy?’ How could I have been so stupid to fall into this fantasy? Maybe being locked away in my condo for too many years has affected my decision making process.
I’m so stupid, if I wanted a fantasy, I could have read a damn book, but no, I had to go to the extreme of falling for a killer. I just need time to think away from him. I hope he will leave me alone and give it to me. I just want a shower and a bed and tomorrow I will get back to my old, boring, life…
Miller
Damn that girl. She has no idea how crazy things can get over a simple mistake. Not that doing drugs is to be taken lightly, but that is my point: if a simple mistake can get people killed, a major mistake can have detrimental consequences—not to mention the fallout after the fact.
I turn the TV on to get my mind off of this woman who I am now wishing I didn’t care about. What the hell was I thinking getting involved romantically with a woman? I was doing better when there weren’t any emotional ties and I just randomly fucked different women every night. Now I doubt my dick will get hard for anyone else and I have no desire to find out. She has me twisted and I don’t like it one damn bit!
The voice of the news anchor cuts through my thoughts.
A single signature black rose was left on local pimp’s body. Viewers may recall last week the death of a local drug addicted prostitute—the ironic thing being that these two deaths are connected. It has been confirmed by local authorities that this was her pimp and the two were allegedly robbing customers by having the woman lead them back to a hotel where the pimp would then beat and rob them.
The screen is then switched back to the station where the news anchor begins with a story of a local veterinarian who will be offering discounted spay and neutering to try and alleviate the problem of too many strays in the city.
What the fuck do those two things have to do with each other?
I know I need to go and talk to that woman of mine in the other room, but I honestly don’t know what to say. I’m not used to relationships. I have purposely avoided them for years. War in Iraq fucked my head up and I just disconnected from anyone but my brothers in arms. They understand me and I understand them. I don’t have to work at connecting to them because we are bound by blood, guts, and the horrors of war. I’m not used to talking things through with a woman. For years I have done nothing but fuck them and forget them
I had two rules: Never fuck a woman more than once and never kill one. The woman in the other room—my woman—made me break one of those rules the minute I fell into her sky-blue eyes. It isn’t just the matter of conflicted feelings either; she knows too much. I warned her when she got involved with me it would be for life and I know she is having second thoughts about me being here.
I honestly don’t know how to deal with this. I’m a man who knows how to deal with everything but her. I need a good night’s sleep and a clear head, I will deal with this in the morning.
Stormy
I don’t sleep well at all—numerous times of waking up and using it as an excuse to go pee keep me up and down all night and waking up to Miller’s antics isn’t helping matters.
“I just got back to sleep, Miller. Take the fucking handcuffs off—now!”
“No. Can. Do.”
He leaps from the chair he is seated in so quickly that I jump, straining and pulling at the cuffs in fear. He scares me—I don’t know what to expect from a man who kills people for a living.
He is straddled over me even though the cuffs have secured me and there is no reason to pin me down. The yellow hue in his eyes tells me I’m in trouble.
“You think you can fucking leave me? I own you!”
He is now tweaking and pinching at my nude body and I find myself wishing I hadn’t slept nude.
“Stop it, Miller.”
“Fuck no, I’m not stopping. I am proving a point though.”
He turns his body slightly and begins to run his finger over my already wet opening. His touch is feather light and he faces me, eyeing me in an accusatory manner.
“Your body understands the concept of being my property. Now we just need to get it into that hard head of yours. I’m going to paint a very grim picture for you. If you leave me or ever open your mouth about who I am or what I do, I’ll kill you. I don’t think you understand just how deeply entrenched into my world you are. The most dangerous player in the game, Glazov, knows who you are and he has you under surveillance. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that my emotions for you will save you. If you fuck up, you die.”
“Who is Glazov?” I ask trying to remain calm with the new information that has been thrust on me.
“Only the top Russian mobster in all of Bratva.”
“I don’t understand any of this stuff you’re telling me.”
“The only thing you need to understand is you aren’t going anywhere and I’m damn sure not. There is one way out of your predicament—death!”
He moves the finger he had used to gently tease me and grabs my chin with a tight grip, forcing me to look at him.
“I own you, I own those plump perfect little pink lips, those ocean blue eyes, that corn-silk blonde hair, those full tits, your taut little abs, and your tight little pink pussy.” He pointed to my head poking his finger into the side of it as he spoke. “But most of all, I’m in here. I own your mind girl. You can never dislodge me from there. I’m in your thoughts, your dreams, your fears, your insecurities—because I am your security.”
He stands removing his clothes but never removing his eyes from my face.
“I’m so glad we got tested because there is nothing I would rather do than have you sheathed around my cock.”
He lowers down on me and slowly pushes into me as he studies each detail of my face. “I need you Stormy—you’re not the only one who needs someone. I need you as much as you need me. You get me and I’ve never had that with a woman before. Please think about me and don’t do anything stupid; I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
He runs the pad of his thumb over the single tear that is running down my cheek, wiping it away. He is right—I do need him. How can it be I trust a man who kills for a living more than I have ever trusted anyone? I know he would step in front of a bullet for me and no one has ever been willing to lay their life on the line for me. I can’t walk away from him even if I want to. Fear isn’t the emotion that connects me to him—security and trust are.
No longer do I feel the need to control every aspect of my life because now I have someone who does it for me—someone I can trust—someone I’m connected to—someone I…Well, I don’t even want to go there…
He feels like steel as he slowly takes me—hard, cold, relentless,
strong and sure. As his unforgiving eyes bore into me, he never breaks contact or the connection we share. Already the trials of fire are forging us, intermingling us into one, as if we have been soldered together by our secrets and weaknesses.
My hands are no longer pulling at the restraints, I allow him to take me, own me, and I will allow him to mold me into the Femme Fatal he has summoned to the forefront of my being and before he is finished with that which he creates, we will be just as his brothers in arms are: bound by blood…
Miller
If I could climb inside of her and become one with her, I would. I am a man who has been made cold and unfeeling due to the horrors of war yet I feel with this woman beneath me. I feel down to the marrow of my bones. Losing her isn’t an option—keeping her is a vital necessity.
I know instinctively I will die without her by my side. Not only will the last spark of hope to ever be human again die, but the distraction of not having her will give my enemies the weakness they need to kill me.
I take my time relishing in the moist, tight warmth she provides me; if I could make this last forever I would. I raise my body, holding myself above her with the flat of my palms supporting me. My thrusts become more urgent as her begging me to let her come rings in my ears.
“I love knowing you beg me for release and I love knowing I am the only man who possesses that part of you—any part of you to be precise. I feel her tightness clench around me as her body rises up to meet mine in an effort to take all I am giving her and more.
She brings out the best in me and she brings out the worst in me. She has the key to all of my secrets I have been so careful to keep tucked away and hidden for all these years. I am desperate for her to adjust to my horrid lifestyle, to pull her into my darkness, for her to dwell in the abyss of a cold-blooded killer because if she doesn’t adjust and conform to my lifestyle, it will mean the death of not only her, but me. I am a man possessed by an innocent woman who will be tainted with the blood on my hands by the time I am done with her—but nonetheless, possessed is what I am. I love her with a dark, demented obsession, but it is all I know. For me, love is obsession and there cannot be one without the other—they are one in the same.
The Complete Contract Series: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, & Part Four Page 11