The Complete Contract Series: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, & Part Four

by Steele, Suzanne

  He takes one finger and places it under my chin, lifting my face and forcing me to look at him. Though his voice is barely above a whisper, it resonates deep in my core.

  “Everything… I want everything…”

  “Sex?”

  He chuckles, “Am I that appalling to look at?”

  “I think we both know that isn’t an issue. It’s just…well…”

  “You haven’t been fucked since Tommy’s father. I would even wager that you have never truly been fucked. What do you think about when you pleasure yourself?”

  I can feel my face and neck turning red. I’ve never been spoken to in this manner.

  “By the time I get done with you, they’ll be no need to pleasure yourself.”

  “I probably need to get back to Tommy.” I don’t wait for an answer or give him a chance to stop me. I just get up and rush out the door, leaving him alone in the apartment. He’s too intense and I need time to process him.

  Black Rose

  I push my hardened cock down as I view her almost trip going out the door. Her confusion, embarrassment, humiliation, and uneasiness make my cock hard because I know I caused it. She couldn’t be any more perfect for what I have in mind.

  It takes a certain kind of woman to please me. I purposely picked her because she is unworldly and innocent. I will train her to be the woman I want her to be.

  See…to the untrained eye, she would appear to be weak but that isn’t the case with Melanie. It takes a very strong woman to raise a child alone. It takes a loyal mother to do what she’s done for Tommy. My own mother had it all and refused to raise me. The fact that I was spawned from an affair she had decades ago is no excuse. I’m positive that had she been able to put me up for adoption, she would have. Appearance is everything in the lives of the rich and elite—another reason Melanie will need training. She is going to grace my arm at functions and she needs to know the proper etiquette. In the sitting room, she will be a lady but in the bedroom, she will be my dirty little whore, spreading her legs and giving me full view of what now belongs to me.

  It has been eons since I have felt what I’m feeling now—expectancy. I’m looking forward to this. I’m looking forward to Melanie…

  Chapter Six

  Stormy

  “What do you see, Stormy?”

  “I see a quack doctor coming out of a house that looks like it should be condemned.”

  “Why?” is all he says and I know from previous training, he wants to know the what and the why. He wants me to be able to assess the psychology of the mark in question.

  “I think he picked this location because hearing screams, shots, or pleas for help wouldn’t cause problems for him.”

  “Very good, grasshopper,” he teases. “Now, how do we know she’s in there?”

  “We don’t.”

  “That’s why you’re going to go in there and make certain she is.”

  “I can’t go in there alone.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Either.

  “You don’t have that option. Now, get your tight, little, designer jean wearing ass out of my fucking car and don’t come back without evidence of that woman being held hostage in that house.”

  I hear the bastard’s laugh as I get out and slam the door so hard I can’t believe the glass window doesn’t shatter.

  “Fucking bastard!” I mutter under my breath as I feel around in my back pocket, grateful for the lock pick kit I remembered. I grab the ponytail holder on my wrist and tie my hair back, all the while trying to psych myself up for work.

  I know why he is being an ass. He doesn’t want me getting killed or caught, in that order. Miller is the master at throwing curveballs my way. He only does this shit to try and make me back out which, in turn, only makes me more determined. The familiar release of the lock sends my already pumping adrenaline into overdrive; I love my job.

  I ease in, shutting and locking the door behind me. The thought to return anything I move back to its precise location goes through my mind. I know instinctively that this man is going to carry OCD traits. It goes with his job description.

  I flip through the mail on a side entrance table as I wait to make sure there are no pets in here, specifically dogs. I certainly don’t need my presence made known by some yapping ankle biter, or worse, a guard dog. I’m already pretty certain there is no threat of a dog or he would be at the door barking by now but if I have learned anything in this job so far, it’s to not take anything for granted. There’s nothing but junk here and I’m just about to move on when the unthinkable happens; the son of a bitch pulls back up to the house. I quickly lay the mail back down the way I found it and head up the stairs and into the master bedroom. I drop to the floor and roll under the bed.

  My mind is a cluster-fuck of chaos. Where’s Miller? Is he going to come in and kill this guy and then rescue the woman? I’m so pissed at him right now for sending me in here. Visions of beating his ass are at the forefront of my mind when I look over and see his feet—high polished business shoes—and I know it’s the doctor.

  I am absolutely, undeniably, cocksure convinced this man can hear my heart beating out of my chest. I just know he is going to bend down and say, “Boo!” Looking over and seeing the bed skirt bunched up convinces me that he has seen me. I’m absolutely sure I am going to die of a fear induced heart attack before he even has the chance to kill me when he bends down to straighten it and then rises to walk towards the closet, retrieving something I can’t see. He turns and walks from the room and all I can’t think is don’t breathe, he’ll hear you.

  I have never been as relieved as I am right now when hear his hard soled shoes making their way over the wood floors and exiting the front door.

  Miller, I’m going to kill you.

  I wait a couple of minutes and roll from beneath the bed. I still have to present Miller with proof that the woman is being held here or that sadistic son of a bitch is going to leave me here. I can just see me now, trudging through the ghetto in a mini-skirt.

  I’m going to strangle you in your sleep, you sadistic asshole!

  My blood is boiling. I’m so pissed at Miller right now but I use it to my advantage. I quietly make my way down the steps and view a woman cuddled up with a blanket, asleep in a cage. My anger with Miller is quickly redirected towards this heinous individual who has committed the atrocity of caging this woman for research so he can gain a little notoriety. He’s crazy, and he calls people like me crazy? Oh, the irony. One of the hardest things I will ever do is to walk away from this woman and leave her in the care of this mad man.

  I snap the picture with my phone and I rapidly make my way to the front door, doing a quick mental once over that I returned everything as it was. I walk with purpose and make my way to the passenger door with intentions of smacking Miller’s smug face when I get seated in the car. He is ready for it and he grabs my flailing fists as I attempt to beat the shit out of him.

  He’s laughing; he thinks this is funny. I fail to see the humor in it.

  “You could have gotten me killed, you smug bastard!”

  “And yet here you sit.” He holds out his hand for the proof I was sent in to get.

  “You have the audacity to insinuate you will drive off and leave me if I don’t get proof.”

  “I don’t insinuate.” His hand is still out and I all but throw the phone at him. If it hadn’t cost as much as it did, I would have.”

  He looks at the picture and eyes me. “Very good,” he says.

  I just shake my head, partly due to what he just subjected me to and partly due to the fact that he isn’t as appalled as I am at the woman’s living conditions.

  Miller

  I prepare myself as soon as I see the look on my little hellcat’s face. She is pissed. She immediately begins swinging at me and I catch her wrists, laughing at her.

  I sent her to do a job and I want evidence that the job was completed. If she doesn’t have proof because she got sc
ared, she will be walking home and then she will be getting strenuously disciplined. My job isn’t a job, it’s life or death. I don’t play when it comes to work. Well, I don’t play period.

  I patiently ignore her screaming and bitching all the way home until I pull into the garage and get the car parked. Her eyes look as big as saucers as I lunge for her, grabbing her throat and squeezing it until I have all but cut off her air supply.

  “You want champagne and roses? Candlelit fucking dinners and the opera? Then you have the wrong guy. If you don’t like the way I’m training you, quit! You can stay at home and read about the bullshit romance I’ll never give you. But if you’re going to work with me, then shut your fucking pie hole and get with the program!” I look at her, waiting for an answer I don’t know if she can give me due to her lack of oxygen. “One more thing, princess… If you do decide to stay with your little book boyfriend, then that’s where you’ll be—at home.” I lean in and viciously growl, “Because you are NEVER leaving me. I own you. Lock, stock, and Glock, baby girl. Now get your ass in the condo.”

  I waste no time grabbing a handful of hair and leading her over to the bed.

  She’s face first in the pillow with her lips and face all scrunched up due to the fierce hold I have on her.

  “It’s time to finish our conversation, baby. Now if you’re looking for black roses, knives, and a guy who’ll fuck you like he hates your guts, then I’m your guy. See, when all the pansy boys are gone, I’ll be the one who has your back.”

  “You call sending me into a house by myself and leaving me there when the crazy doctor comes back, having my back?”

  “I call it having enough confidence in my partner that she won’t freeze up.”

  I can feel some of her anger melt away when I say that. “You learned a valuable lesson today, little girl, and that’s this: there’s always the possibility a target forgot something at home and will have to turn around and come back to get it.”

  “He’s a genius, Miller. Geniuses don’t forget.”

  “Well, then I guess that gives the rest of us hope... if it was true. Don’t assume anything in this line of work.”

  I can feel my cock harden because I’ve got her pinned down; I’m so twisted.

  “That’s it, baby, squirm for me. You’re going to hate yourself in a minute when you come for a man you’re so pissed off at. You may hate me right now but when you realize you can’t control your lust for me, it won’t be me you’re pissed at anymore.”

  “Fuck you, Miller!”

  “I think I will.”

  I’ve got my face right by her ear and I jerk a handful of her hair. “Get up on your knees. I wouldn’t even think about not obeying me right now because you’re already in trouble. Whether you like it or not, if you’re going to work for me, you’re going to do things my way. You want to be pampered by some fucking pansy boy, you’ve got the wrong guy. I would suggest, being that you are in as deep as you are, that you adjust.”

  She gets up on her knees, seething, and I love it. That short ass mini-skirt she is wearing is already bunched up over that perfect, heart shaped ass of hers. Just one swipe of my hand and the G-string is gone. She’s so wet that I’m in like Flynn and fucking her like I hate her guts in no time. It is good to be me…

  Chapter Seven

  Dr. Winslow

  I sit in the shadows on a chair I have placed here for the express purpose of watching her. She is cuddled up in a blanket and holding a teddy bear that I gave her. She looks as though she is feeling right at home.

  I’m conflicted. This research was initially done to prove she would bond with me even under the most horrific of circumstances and, true to form, she has just like I knew she would. The problem is that I have too. I have to admit the probability of that happening never entered my thought processes. Being a child prodigy has its perks, but it also comes with its own set of issues. One of these drawbacks is the fact that my emotions are turned off. At least, they were until now.

  I don’t want to kill this woman. This poses a problem because as soon as she goes to the police and tells them I kidnapped her, everything I have worked for will be gone. On one hand, I can’t count on her being bonded enough to not turn me in to the authorities but on the other, I can’t see myself killing her either. What was I thinking? I’m not a killer. I have never carried those traits, never had the desire to take someone’s life. Thoughts of having Trent do it, in exchange for me signing off on his psychological evaluation, cross my mind but, to put it bluntly, I’m scared of him. Anyone whose girlfriend nicknames him the Executioner can’t be a safe, sane individual to deal with.

  For the first time in my life, I am, for lack of a better term, mentally stumped. This is the reason I haven’t had sex with this girl; I knew it would cloud my thinking. I can’t remember a time I have ever been confused. Decisions are made quickly in my line of work. I’m decisive and unemotional by nature.

  She’s still in a dirty and now tattered dress. I purpose in my mind to buy her a new one. I’ll have to go to a thrift store, wear somewhat of a disguise, and pay in cash. We live in a big brother society where cameras watch our every move.

  She begins to stir and open her eyes. When she realizes I’m seated in the shadows, she turns to the front of the cage, eyeing me expectantly as she holds onto the bars. She’s looking at me as if I hold all the answers to the universe and, in a sense, I guess I do. At least I do in her universe.

  She waits, saying nothing and just looking at me. A wave of sadness washes over me as I notice how at peace she has become since she has come to terms with her predicament. Why am I sad? Isn’t this what I wanted?

  Suddenly world renowned fame doesn’t seem so important or glamorous. I’ve never fit in anywhere. I was always the youngest in school, dubbed ‘the walking encyclopedia’ for my extensive vocabulary. I was beyond socially awkward and my emotions are practically nonexistent.

  I get up, slowly make my way over to the cage, and bend down so that I am eye level with my captive. I rub my thumb over the fingers she has firmly wrapped around one of the bars of her cage.

  “What size dress do you wear?”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know this is the first time in my life someone has ever wanted me…”

  When I hear her response, the wave of sadness I felt just moments ago becomes a tsunami of emotion. Whether I like it or not, I know with absolute certainty that I have bonded with my captive.

  Miller

  I lay in bed watching her nap and letting my mind wander. I’ve been the biggest prick known to man trying to purposely drive her away and she still refuses to back down.

  It isn’t that I want her out of my life. On the contrary, that isn’t going to happen because I would never let her go. What I am trying to do is solidify in both our minds that this is the type of lifestyle she wants.

  I have to admit that she has surprised me. In the past, she would have been someone I would have pegged as most likely not to succeed at being a hit woman. She has shattered every preconceived notion I had of her. She’s tough as nails, thinks quick on her feet, presses on through the fear that comes with the job, and she’s hot as hell. Being hot doesn’t just work for me in the bedroom, it works luring my marks in too. There isn’t a man alive that wouldn’t follow her out of a bar and up to a hotel suite. Working with a woman definitely has its advantages.

  I was shocked when she came out of whack-a-doo doc’s house with a cell phone pic of that woman in a cage. Anyone else would have panicked and escaped the place as soon as he left for the second time, but not my girl. She fought through her fear and did what had to be done.

  I know I’m being old-fashioned, as old-fashioned as a killer can be anyway. I want her home behind closed doors for one reason and one reason only: she’s safe here. I’m doing everything in my power to make her give up on working with me but she is meeting every challenge I throw her way.

/>   This girl—my girl—has everything she needs to be successful in our line of work. It all boils down to one thing: she has heart. She has this inherent goodness that can’t be taught to a trainee. It is an innate thing for her. Like a lion is born with courage and heart, for Stormy it is instinctive and natural as well. She is one the gutsiest people I have ever met. It confuses the hell out of me how a former agoraphobic can be so ballsy. I believe exactly what she said; she chose to lock herself away from the world because she wanted to disconnect. Now she is choosing to pass every test I throw at her because she wants to be a killer. Why would any woman want to be a killer?

  Is it that, or is it the desire to work with me and know my world? Whatever it is, one thing is certain. When Stormy Dawn Weathers makes up her mind to do something, anyone would be hard pressed to change it.

  Whether I like it or not, agree to it or resist it, she is not going to be moved. A smile crosses my face as a sense of pride courses through me. She has gone far above and beyond what I ever believed her to be capable of and I am proud of my girl…

  Black Rose

  I look up to view the temporary secretary I currently employ eying me as I run my hand through my wavy, copper colored hair. The funny thing about it is… lately, there is only one woman I care to have more than a mere sex fest with and that is the woman I have religiously stalked.

  I rise from my desk, in the mood for a good ‘mind-fucking session,’ and I make my way towards the temp. I latch my hands to the back of her chair and lean down, whispering into her ear, “You’re looking at me like you need to be fucked and you want me to do it. Shame on you for lusting after your boss.”

  “Uh, uh, uh,” the poor girl stammers, baffled by my blatant demeanor.

  “Shh, don’t talk, listen. Now, normally I don’t fuck the help but with you being a mere temp, I might just decide to detour from my normal policies. If I choose to do so, I will inform you of that decision. Tsk, tsk, don’t turn around. You’re at work. Keep those fingers on that keyboard. That’s what I’m paying you for.”