by Lynn Burke
He flicked my clit with his tongue, and I arched off the bed. “O-oh.”
“Mmm.” He tongued back down to my quivering hole, his hands sliding beneath my ass to palm my cheeks. “Goddamn, woman.” He blew over my wet core sending goose bumps to race over my body.
“P-please, Bowie,” I heard myself whimper. “Please.”
He rimmed my asshole with his tongue, and I squeaked, flinching. “Relax, sugar. Let me please you.”
Oh, mercy, yes.
He tongued me again, pressing against my back hole, and I panted, tugging on my restrains, licking my dry lips although a sheen of sweat broke out on my skin. He teased my puckered hole with a fingertip, pressing and rubbing in time with his tongue shoving into my pussy.
My toes tingled. Ears rang. “Going to c-come.”
He slid his finger past the ring of muscle in my ass, slid his thumb into my pussy, and latched his hot mouth onto my clit, sucking hard.
I shrieked as my climax slammed into me, wrecking me, racing through my muscles, over my skin, squeezing. Spasming and erasing every thought, flooding me with sensory overload.
He fucked my ass with his finger, my pussy with his thumb with just enough sting to feel luscious, his teeth on my clit, and I came again before settling back to reality from the first.
“Fuck, Hannah.”
I fought to fill my lungs as he pulled away with a groan, the sound of his zipper barely reaching through the ringing in my ears. I lay lax and ready to be filled by him.
The sound of slapping skin lifted my head, and I whimpered at the darkness behind the blindfold. He jerked himself rather than use my body to find his release. I opened my mouth to beg, but he groaned so deep my toes curled, another wave of lust heating my core.
Hot jets of cum shot over my pussy, my stomach, and Bowie growled, the mattress shuddering as he came all over my skin.
Heat fused through me again as he cursed. “You look so fucking good with my cum all over you.” His raspy voice, hoarse as if from shouting, slid over me as he smeared his hand through his cum, rubbing it into my stomach, over my pubic bone, all over my pussy.
He groaned and slid his finger partway into my swollen folds, teasing in and out of me just deep enough to sting again. A pinch to my clit with his other hand, and I bowed off the bed as another climax robbed me of breath.
I floated back to life, my extremities tingling.
Bowie kissed each of my thighs before his weight disappeared off the bed, and I relaxed in pure bliss, a shuddering sigh rippling through me.
He returned a few minutes later and used a warm, wet towel to clean his cooled cum off my skin. Without a word, he released my legs from his rope and massaged my feet and ankles one at a time, his rough palms and strong fingers rubbing with a gentleness I hadn’t expected.
My shoulders ached, but same as my legs, he set me free and worked the pain from my arms until I lay spent, on the verge of sleep.
The blindfold slipped off my head last, and I blinked up into his caramel-colored eyes. I hadn’t expected devoted love to shine on his face, but the lack of anything -- even satisfaction -- sent a pang through my chest.
“Rest,” he murmured, laying the blindfold aside. He stood, grabbed a newspaper off the bed, and strode away as I blinked again, baffled.
The door closed behind him, and everything I should have said, should have asked, finally cleared in my brain.
Too late.
Eyes stinging, I curled onto my side and gave into the self-pity I deserved.
* * *
Bowie
No woman tied up for me had looked as good as Hannah did. No woman had tested my resolve, my self-control in the way she did. The sight of her swollen pussy lips, her tight holes clenching at my fingers raced my blood, buzzed my brain.
I’d bit my lip until I tasted blood as she’d come down from her second climax, her tangy sweetness and the scent of cotton candy clinging to my nose. No fucking way could I leave her without blowing my load. I’d palmed my dick and jerked hard in a bruising grip, fighting the need to shove into her virgin hole -- either of them. Both of them.
I came harder than I’d ever coming in my fucking life, spurting all over her pussy and stomach. Marking her. Growling mine in my fucking head with each spurt, teeth once more biting into my lip.
Blown a fucking gasket and wanted to gather her body against mine. Feel her skin caressing mine. Her breath on my face, her satisfied sigh in my ear.
Walking away without even a word beyond “rest” hurt like a motherfucker. I collapsed onto my office chair, tossed the newspaper I’d clenched in my hand into the trash can.
“Fuck.” I pulled my cell from my back pocket where I’d shoved it and forwarded the picture I’d taken to Val. Face red, strands of hair plastered to her sweat-lined face, my angel lay blindfolded, arms bound overhead.
The newspaper I’d lain beside her head was all the proof of life her parents needed.
Also made me feel like a pile of shit.
I pulled out my flask from the top drawer and guzzled until it emptied. “Fuck,” I muttered again, tossing it back into the drawer and slamming it shut.
A soft knock sounded, and I growled. “What?”
Ave stepped into my office, her gaze piercing. “Where is she?”
“Upstairs resting.”
“Did you claim her?”
“No.” I cursed myself for not doing so and praised my self-control and preservation at the same time.
“You wanted to.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You need something?” I asked, my tone low and unaffected.
She narrowed her gaze. “Nothing, but if you hurt her, so help me God --”
“Don’t get your panties in twist, momma bear. Just gave her the release she wanted. Nothing more.”
Ave glared. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” She stormed out without another word, and I tipped my head back, thankful as fuck the whiskey burned through my empty stomach. I buzzed Austin through his earpiece.
“Yeah?” he responded immediately.
“When Angel comes downstairs, walk her home for me, will you?”
“Sure thing.”
I took off before Hannah could seek me out, confront me for not giving her what she really wanted. Fuck knew, I wouldn’t ever tell her why. Shit like that was best left unsaid, memories buried beneath thirty years of a hard life.
* * *
Hannah
I rested my body, but my mind raced. Bowie had taken so many firsts from me, things I had planned on saving for a godly husband someday. While my desires for the godly part had most certainly changed and the whole “save it for that special man,” I still felt cheated. Bowie’s manipulation of my body’s responses that first day in his office hadn’t necessarily been consent as I saw it in my head.
Being tied up, however, had definitely been on my wish list -- but he still hadn’t given me what I wanted. Overcome with need, even after he sent a raging climax through my body, and all I could think about was getting his cock inside me, taking my virginity.
I wanted to give it. I would willingly give it, no manipulation needed.
But even telling him I was wet and willing the first night he’d walked me home hadn’t been enough. What about me turned him off? Nothing from what his body language suggested. I turned him on, and that angered him for some reason.
He’d claimed I was too young, but didn’t bad boy bikers get off on stuff like that? What man didn’t have a schoolgirl fantasy, even if it was sick? I wanted to make that come true for him, more than was probably healthy.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I pulled myself into a sitting position, dried the tear tracks from my cheeks and glanced around the room. It was sparsely furnished with enough essentials to get the job done. He’d gotten the job done, but I hadn’t.
I grabbed my robe and pulled my arms through, feeling like an absolute failure. Time to face the gossipers in the dressing room. Not something I looked forward to.
Pulling my shoulders back, I forced a satisfied smirk and strode back downstairs. Keeping my silence would heighten the excitement between the other dancers, I was sure. Might as well go for secretive smiles and shrugs -- best way to hide my shaky voice, because there’s no way I would be able to speak out loud and have them not hear my disappointment.
They grilled me as expected. Ave, tight-lipped, brushed out my hair, pity and pissiness in her eyes. She, too, kept quiet as the girls tittered and giggled, asking if I’d enjoyed Bowie’s cock as much as they had.
I kept my back to them while dressing so they wouldn’t notice the lack of knife marks Ginger and Candy bragged about receiving when in his bed.
Jealousy clenched my stomach, and seeing Austin waiting for me by the back door rather than Bowie turned the green snake into pure disappointment, going so far as to tighten my throat.
“Where is he?” Ave asked as we drew near the tall Texan with the beefy arms.
“Gone for the night.”
Austin was as talkative as Bowie, which meant we started out across the lot in silence. The streetlight of the alley leading to the main street had blown out, and I stayed close as we traipsed through the falling mist.
Maybe I needed to get a man’s point of view. Never having a brother and male cousins, I was about as clueless as a young woman could be when it came to the opposite sex.
I opened my mouth to spill my guts in hopes of some advice, when a shadow barreled from behind the neighboring building’s dumpster. He slammed into Austin, catching him off guard, and the two tumbled to the ground.
Another shadow grabbed at my arm before I could shriek, but I swung wildly, crying out as my half-closed fist hit flesh. Grunts and curses sounded behind me, and I kicked and screamed at the man who wrapped his arms around me.
“Austin!” I shrieked again, kicking back and hitting something hard enough the arms around me loosened.
“Fucking bitch!” the man growled, and I jerked my head back as hard as I could, just like Cadence had shown me. “Fuck!” His shriek accompanied his arms dropping from me completely, and I rushed toward Austin who sat atop the other attacker, fists flying.
“You don’t touch the Outlaws’ property!” Austin landed another punch. “Got a fucking death wish, you prick?” Another grunt tore from the limp man beneath him as running footsteps faded behind us. “Motherfucker!”
“Austin!” I hollered, too scared to touch him as he whaled away. “Austin!”
His head swiveled my way, but I couldn’t make out his face in the darkness. “Get me out of here.” My voice broke. “Please.”
One last punch, and Austin stood and pulled me up into his arms. “Sorry, Angel. Was too fucking distracted. So goddamn sorry.” His boots slapped on the wet pavement, and once reaching the main road, light flooded over his blood-splattered face.
“Bowie is gonna kill me,” he muttered.
I cupped his cheek in my hand. “I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.”
Jaw clenched, Austin nodded.
“You better put me down and wipe your face,” I said. “Otherwise, people are going to think you just killed a man.”
“Fucker isn’t dead, even though he deserved it.”
Legs shaking, I clutched at his tense forearm, exhaustion weighing like a ton of bricks on my shoulders. He saw me to my apartment door, and when Cadence opened to my fumbling with the lock, her eyes widened.
“Shit!” She grabbed me, and I fell sobbing into her arms. “What the hell happened?” she demanded, but I was too busy crying on her shoulder to answer.
“Assholes tried to grab her in the alley,” Austin mumbled.
“Shit.” Cadence led me into the living room. “You can clean up in the bathroom if you want,” she said over her shoulder. She and I sat on the couch, and I quieted enough for a quick explanation of what had happened while Austin ran water in the bathroom.
He returned a minute later, the blood wiped off his face, and although dark spots littered his red plaid shirt, they weren’t too noticeable. “You okay, Angel?” He peered down at me with intense blue-green eyes, more than a little concern etching his brow.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Austin, this is Cadence. Cadence, Austin.”
He glanced at her, a flicker of interest crossing his face. “She stays in until one of the brothers is here to walk her to work tomorrow afternoon.”
“You got it.” Cadence hopped up to see Austin out, grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, and sat back down beside me. “Now.” She poured the glasses full and handed me one. “Tell me why Bowie didn’t walk you home this time -- and then tell me more about that hottie from Texas.”
“I’m gonna need to drink this first,” I said with a sigh, grasping the goblet in my still-shaking hand. Once fortified, I spilled my guts, more tears pouring at the end of my tale.
“Fucker.”
I couldn’t have agreed more with Cadence’s mutter, but emotions finally drained, I found I was more baffled than anything. The why over his not taking what I offered drove me nuts, and Cadence didn’t have any thoughts besides the age-gap thing.
She asked about Austin, but other than being a bodyguard and originally from Texas, I didn’t know much about him. He kept to himself as far as the other dancers went. Not a one of them claimed to have gotten him in the sack.
Cadence murmured she wouldn’t mind doing that very thing, pulling a small smile from me while heading toward our rooms.
Once in bed, I stared at the dark ceiling, my head killing me, my body feeling as though I’d been hit by a truck. Perhaps Avril, with her experience in life, would be able to offer me some guidance on either getting over Bowie, or getting him right where I wanted him.
Even though his lack of action pissed me off, I still wanted him. Every part. I wanted to burrow into his brain and learn his ways, figure out what made him tick and why. Learn how to please him. Make him smile more.
I curled on my side and closed my eyes, determined to rest, but it was a long time before sleep finally took me.
Chapter Five
Bowie
I fucking flipped when Austin called to tell me what had happened. The monster had at least two inches and thirty pounds on me, so it was probably a good thing he’d been the one walking her home and not me; otherwise, things wouldn’t have turned out as good as they had.
The guy he’d beat to hell had disappeared by the time he made it back to the club. Had I been the one attacked, he would have been dead. Drained from a hundred stab wounds. The other fucker who had his hands on my Angel? I’d have found him. Sliced his dick and balls off before shoving them down his goddamn throat.
It took everything inside me to not speed over to Hannah’s apartment to see for myself that she was okay. Obsession for the little minx already bordered on madness. Seeing her hurt and scared would have snapped my sanity.
I stayed away. Drank like a motherfucker all night long, and didn’t bother heading into the lounge the next day. Austin stood in for me, watching and caring for our girls. Angel ended up calling in, saying she was sore from the attack, and although not hurt badly, I was glad she took the night off. I ended up going in, and fuck if the entire night fell flat -- felt off -- without the anticipation of watching Hannah on stage.
My body ached for her, even my goddamn nose. I wanted to fill my lungs with the scent of cotton candy. I wanted her sighs and laughter to caress my ears.
Fucking done for, and I didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.
* * *
It took another twenty-four hours for Hannah’s parents to respond to the picture Val had sent from his untraceable email account, and in those hours, the press snagged a leak, and Hannah Harris’s image plastered the TV with news of her confirmed kidnapping and the ransom being demanded for her return.
Her grieving parents agreed to pay.
“An offshore account, same as always,” Val told Gunner when questioned on specifics.
The three of us sa
t in the compound office, Gunner’s window unit AC drowning out the music and partying of the Outlaw’s private bar beyond.
It was Angel’s night off, so I’d taken off as well, after making sure she’d stayed holed up in her third-floor apartment.
“Send them the account number,” Gunner said. “Tell them once the payment has been verified, we’ll send coordinates on where to find her.”
Val clicked away on the laptop he held. The press of a few keys offered us the two million Gunner had demanded. Enough to keep us comfortable for a long time, but not more than Hannah’s rich-as-fuck daddy would be able to afford.
“Done.” Val grinned.
“You going to send her to the pickup?” I asked, my stomach churning. I wanted her gone. I wanted to claim her.
“Fuck, no.” Gunner returned Val’s grin and sat back. “Angel is worth her weight in gold to the club. She can stay for however long she wants.”
I dipped my head, pleased and pissed at the same time.
“Get on back to the club,” Gunner said. “Take what you want and fuck her until she screams.”
“Goddamn it,” I grumbled, and Val chuckled.
“Do something, for fuck’s sake,” he agreed with Gunner. “Your goddamn blue balls are killing me.”
“Fuck you, Val.”
“No thanks. I don’t do dick.”
With a snort for him to take however he wished, I stood and strode out, looking forward to watching Angel onstage more than I should have.
* * *
Hannah
“I don’t get it,” I muttered, lifting my gaze to Ave’s in the mirror before me as she curled the last bit of my hair. “He didn’t watch me dance this afternoon.” I kept my voice low so the other girls readying for stage didn’t overhear.
I’d told Avril what Bowie had done in the private room above us, and she frowned once I finished.
“He might not be in the lounge,” Avril said, sitting the curling iron aside, “but he’s watching.”
“From where?”
“Cameras.”