Devil's Prey

by SE Chardou

“You want my jizz coating your walls and running out of your hungry pussy? You want my mouth to fuck it out of you?”

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  “Then tell me what I want to hear, Mags.”

  My eyes met his own in defiance and although I didn’t want to say the words, if he came and then satisfied me, surely the power exchange was worth it?

  “I love you, Max.”

  Those four words. So small yet so big and they changed every-fucking-thing I never wanted to be any different than what they were now.

  He grunted and I felt his release inside me as he rammed me hard several more times and stilled in satisfaction.

  I could deal with a lot and that’s why what we had together didn’t bother me the least bit. He practiced selfish sex where I rarely got off but that was never the point. My reward always came after his and I was fine with that. Max didn’t just make me come, he took me to orgasmic heights I’d never had with any other man.

  During the act of intercourse, he had nothing to give because he’d never been given anything himself when his own innocence had been stripped from him. This couldn’t be fixed with a few self-help sessions—it was truly the only way he knew how to have sex.

  Afterward, when he kissed his way down my body and spread my legs, his mouth doing things his cock could never do, I surrendered to the sensation. His tongue fucking me in the same spot his dick had been moments before. The way he pulled on my clit piercing and licked me hard yet soft; rough and then gentle before bringing me to an earth-shattering climax. I lost all sense of reason and room for belonging anywhere except with this man.

  It was beautiful and I loved every minute of it, including his kisses afterwards and the way we spooned on the sofa.

  Max wrapped a leg around my waist to keep me in place and held me as close as possible, his face buried in my hair.

  “It was never supposed to be like this, was it?”

  Both sated and our sex highs only a lingering after thought, I replied, “What do you mean?”

  “Was I always supposed to crave you like the air I breathe? Why couldn’t you just be a great lay and nothing else, Mags?”

  “Who ever said that had to change? I certainly didn’t.”

  Max sighed and said something in a foreign language I couldn’t understand before he spoke English. “I hate oral sex. I never practice it because it’s disgusting. I don’t want to put my mouth anywhere near where my cock has been. But with you, it’s compulsory. I need to taste you and to taste me intermingled with you. It turns me on so much I want to fuck you again but then I’m too tired. You drain me of energy and the very essence that makes me a man.”

  I turned toward him though we couldn’t see each other fully. “You hate eating me out?”

  “No, I love eating you out but I’ve never done it with another woman before because I couldn’t bear the thought. No way would I have ever done that to anyone who isn’t you. Do you get it now?”

  “Why me?” I whispered. “What’s so different about me? Do I taste like vanilla and honey?”

  He chuckled and I felt the rumble in his chest against my back. “No, you don’t. You smell like the deadliest sin and taste sweeter than the ninth circle of Hell but I can’t say no to you.”

  “Pride and treachery.” I laughed. “Shit, I’m impressed.”

  “Pride goeth before destruction . . . The integrity of the upright guides them, but the crookedness of the treacherous destroys them.”

  “I prefer ‘the path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men,’ but hey, that’s just me.”

  Max sat up and looked down at me with clear blue-green eyes. “I didn’t realize you were a Pulp Fiction buff.”

  I smiled before I bit my lower lip playfully. “You never asked.”

  “So, we can have a Pulp Fiction night?”

  “You bet your ass but if you forget Jackie Brown, Goodfellas or Natural Born Killers then I just might have to kick your ass,” I snapped.

  “Personally, I’m more of a Reservoir Dogs, Casino and True Romance type of guy.”

  I leaned up and kissed his lips. “That’s not an all nighter, that’s an all day, watch-awesome-movies-in-between-fucking-our-brains-out type of day.”

  He trapped my bottom lip between his teeth before he let go. “And what do we do after that?”

  “Well, I figure once all this shit blows over, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up with all sorts of stuff. Mainly, we can watch our favorite shows too. I’m a Sex & the City, Sons of Anarchy and Vampire Diaries type of girl. If you make fun of my third choice, I will kill you.”

  “I won’t . . . my poison is American Horror Story. Not exactly alpha male television.”

  “I’ll forgive you but only because Adam Levine makes an appearance in Asylum.”

  “Well, I’ll forgive you because I think Maggie Siff is one hot chick.”

  We both laughed together and settled into one another’s arms.

  I couldn’t have been happier even if I tried yet the good times couldn’t last forever and the next day, the real world would close in and blow our whole cushiony situation to smithereens.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maxwell

  If one city haunted him in his dreams, Boca Raton was surely at the top of his list. The beautiful and affluent area of Palm Beach County was revered for its shopping, gorgeous estates and lovely views but the city would never be known to Max for anything more than the living nightmares he’d been forced to endure.

  Mila had never bothered to move from the gated, ostentatious and pretentious home Dimitri had bought for her. She loved it—the gilded ceilings, the objet d’art, the Picassos and the Degas ballerinas, Fabergé eggs and antique furniture that was not made for children, adolescents or animals.

  For as long as he’d known her, she always loved beautiful things but nothing and no one more than she adored her own self-preservation regardless the cost to others. Dimitri was a means to an end and she had a child if only to keep them tethered to one another. If she never had to see him again, she wouldn’t give a damn. She still had everything in life she’d ever dreamed of and for her that was more than enough.

  Not even the sacrifice of her own children could damper her spirits for possessing everything her heart desired.

  Max drove a 2015 Range Rover in Barolo Black to blend in with all the other wealthy residents of the exclusive Lake Drive area. He pointed out the elegant, gated white mansion that was over sixteen thousand square feet, not including the outdoors area covered in native foliage, or the grand pool and Jacuzzi you couldn’t see from the front view.

  “That’s the place where all my nightmares began,” he said in a flat, unaffected voice.

  Mags stared at the place for a long time before she replied, “Drive up to the gates. Let’s see how many guards and gunmen we’ll be dealing with when all the shit goes down.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  She smiled. “I’ll do all the talking. You just be a good boy.”

  Max chuckled as he drove up to the gates. There was an elaborate “K” engraved in the gates he couldn’t forget if he tried to and suddenly, he found it hard to catch his breath. He recognized the same monsters that not only enjoyed what happened to him but also relished in the torture Dimitri had carried out on him. He was much older and perhaps they wouldn’t recognize him but there was always the slim chance they might and he wasn’t willing to risk it.

  Before he could slide the SUV into reverse to drive away, Mags hopped out of the passenger door and strode directly to the gates. He couldn’t deny she looked smokin’ hot in a pair of designer jeans, white halter-top and white sky-high espadrille wedges. The whole outfit had cost a pretty penny in the Miami Design District but her beauty was so fucking versatile, she could easily transform from white-trash chic to spoiled, rich bitch princess in a heartbeat.

  A couple of Hispanic guards followed by brute,
steroid-raged Eastern European men—obviously of Russian descent—appeared out of nowhere with guns and bad attitude.

  “Where the fuck is she? Where is that Cuban whore?” Mags screeched aggressively as she rushed angrily toward the men.

  “Miss, we are going to have to ask you to step back?”

  “Step back?” She pushed a soldier Max personally knew as Viktor, a mean motherfucker with a penchant for fucking and killing underage boys and girls. “That fuckin’ skank was all over my man like a cheap ass motherfuckin’ suit last night at Oasis and I truly don’t appreciate it! Where the fuck is that plastic ghetto beyatch?”

  “Miss, I assure you this is the wrong residence. There are no Cubans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans or any other members of Hispanic descent who live here,” Viktor replied in a cold voice. “You see that ‘K’ right there? If you knew what it stood for, you wouldn’t even be this close to me right now.”

  “Fuck you, you ‘roid-raged Polack! I wanna see her right now!”

  “What the fuck did you just call me?” Viktor began to curse in Russian as Max stepped out of the Range Rover and rushed over.

  “Grace, I told you that bitch didn’t live here!” He grabbed her by her waist as she put up a fight.

  “Mark, fuckin’ let go of me right now. You would have fucked that stupid cunt if I hadn’t walked in on the two of you! Piece of shit! I’m gonna send your broke ass back to Pensacola where you came from—spending my fuckin’ money like it’s water! You can’t fuck for shit anyway!”

  “Sorry, guys!” Max looked back as they all shook their head while he dragged Mags back to the Rover and threw her into the back seat.

  As soon as he jumped into the driver’s side, she began to beat him over the head from the back seat as he pulled out and drove away. The minute they were at a safe distance, she stopped and laughed out loud.

  “You think they bought it?”

  He shook his head sadly. “Does it fuckin’ matter when I have a raging migraine on the horizon?”

  Mags leaned over and kissed his neck. “Sorry, babe. Didn’t mean to get too real back there. I did notice besides the six guards and thugs who came to meet me, there were at least a half dozen more patrolling on the inside of the property. That doesn’t include security cameras—which, someone is probably manning at all times—and guards inside the house. Would they have this much protection if your mother was outside the country?”

  “She’s here,” he replied as he drove directly to the Boca Beach Club. “Viktor follows her everywhere she goes.”

  “Why was he outside?”

  Max shrugged. “She’s probably sunnin’ her naked ass by the pool. He’s never too far from her so if he was there to prevent any unwanted visitors, you better believe Mila is outdoors. No way would he leave her alone for too long.”

  They pulled up to the Beach Club hotel and had the Range Rover valet parked while an attendant gathered their two Louis Vuitton trunks and walked them inside to the Registration Desk.

  Like most of the local joints for the wealthy, plastic and fabulous, the Beach Club catered to the upper crust with five-star amenities, an amazing pool area and ocean views of bluer than blue water. Max checked them in under Gemma and Geoff Jones. He slid over a platinum American Express card to pay for the three nights they booked while Mags looked around, hyper-aware of their surroundings.

  They took the elevator up to their hotel room and once they arrived, their luggage had already been delivered thanks to the bellboy. He hung around at the door as they looked around. Mags handed him a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

  “Tell me, is Oasis as great a club as I’ve heard about? It had mixed reviews on Yelp so I thought I’d ask a local.”

  “Yeah, it’s fuckin’ awesome. You’re gonna have a blast! Enjoy your stay in Boca Raton.”

  Her smile dropped the moment she closed the door behind her.

  Max walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist as he held her close and breathed in her scent of expensive perfume and frustration. “How the hell are we gonna get past all those men? It’s a fucking death trap, babe. We would have had a better shot robbin’ the goddamn Heritage in Reno.”

  He tilted her face up to his and smiled. “Have faith in me, Mags. We won’t have to sneak in at all. In fact, I’ll get Mila to invite us in.”

  “How the hell are you gonna do that?”

  “To find out that answer, watch and learn the master at work,” he whispered in her ear.

  That evening when Max and Mags ventured into Oasis, the place was packed solid with the young, wealthy and beautiful of Boca Raton. They blended in perfectly, opting for designer clothes that were both classic yet flashy enough to signal they were part of the same scene most of the club-goers were obviously a part of.

  He looked around casually after both of them grabbed drinks and strolled through the club.

  There was a second level to the club that happened to be VIP only with a velvet rope and a burly security guard who stood directly in front of the stairs. Max palmed a one hundred dollar bill in his hand. The burly security guard looked both him and Mags up and down before he unsecured the rope and let them both pass.

  Ever the gentleman, he allowed Mags to walk up the stairs first but it only was because she provided a hell of a view as she sashayed her ass in a dress that barely came to mid-thigh. Not that getting his engine revved was the reason they were there at all. He knew one person who wouldn’t miss a night back at her favorite club, despite being old enough to be most of these young people’s parent.

  Mila Koslakova had never grown up and even at the tender age of forty-six, she could be found in the VIP area, snorting coke and laughing with some smarmy looking dealer of Hispanic descent. He was young, probably closer to Mags age than his, fit and hugged up tight enough next to his mother to know they were more than “tennis partners.”

  Mags looked back at him and smirked once they reached the top of the stairs. The music was a bit lower and they could talk without shouting but he merely wrapped his arm around her waist and walked over to where his mother and her mystery coke dealer sat.

  Mila laughed at something her lover said to her but her face barely moved thanks to the Botox treatment she’d heavily invested in. She turned toward her son casually before doing a double take, her face—unable to feign surprise—looked merely frozen in place.

  “Hello, Mila.” Max smiled though it never reached his eyes. “Might we have a word without your playboy hanging on to our every word?”

  Her cerulean blue eyes looked dark in the dim light but she finally acquiesced. “Javier, go get me a drink,” she said with a hint of a Polish accent she’d never managed to lose. “I’m thirsty.”

  Her lover stood and walked past the two of them, brushing against Max hard enough to almost push him out of the way.

  “You do that again and I will break your fuckin’ neck. Here. Now. And in this goddamn club,” Max said loudly.

  The guy smirked before he continued toward the upstairs bar area.

  “What are you doing here?” She ran a finger through her professionally dyed flaxen blonde hair—top of the line extensions included—before she set the mirror down with several lines of yayo ready to be snorted. “Don’t you know Dimitri has everyone looking for you right now? He’s put a price on your head and even I can’t save you. Surely you didn’t come all this way thinking I could.”

  “Actually,” Mags began as she placed her hands on her hips, “we were thinking about killing you just to send Dimitri a message.”

  Mila attempted to smile as she murmured an insult about Mags in Polish. “This can’t possibly be true. You wouldn’t do that to me—you couldn’t. I’m your mother. I’m the woman who gave you life. I chose you.”

  Max could barely contain his temper as he shook his head. “I would prefer we go somewhere private to talk about the negotiation of your life, Mother. I still might blow your head off just because I can. If you don’t want to go back to the esta
te then we’ll go somewhere else but we will talk about this. Tonight.”

  Mags swallowed her dirty Martini and set the empty container on the art-deco table as his mother stood and teetered toward him in ridiculously high heels. “We’ll go back to the estate. I’m safer there than anywhere else, especially if I am alone with you and that girl. I am pretty sure you’ve made that point, even if you hadn’t planned to, my son.”

  He was more than happy to leave that god-awful club with Mags next to him. She retrieved their Range Rover from valet while he climbed into an exclusive bulletproof top of the line Porsche Cayenne with his mother. She had a driver who immediately rolled up the partition between the front and the back, granting him and his mother complete privacy.

  “Are you crazy?” she murmured in Polish. “You’re wanted by one of the most dangerous men in the world and you show up here? Do you think Dimitri is stupid? He has been waiting for you to come here. I can hold him off but not for long.”

  Max glared coldly at the woman who’d given him life. “Do you truly give a fuck about me at all or was I always just a means to an end?”

  “Why would you ask me something like that? Of course I care about you. You’re my son—I carried you for nine months—”

  “You also carried Edward too but that didn’t stop you from handing him over to our father like he meant nothing.”

  Mila pinched the bridge of her nose. “The situation between Sean and I was very complicated, Max. When we were together, I was property of the club. It was a horrible life to live and to be honest, if I’d been smart, I would have never ventured there in the first place. I should have quit when Sean bought the Kitty Kat Club from Raymond Jackson.”

  “Why didn’t you?” he questioned in an icy tone.

  “Sean liked me from the moment he saw me. I decided to use the situation to my advantage. I came from a poor country while it was still under Communist rule, Max. You have no idea what it was like because you’ve never lived in those conditions.”