Winner Takes All (A Full Length Erotic Romance Novel)

by Gray, Sherilyn

  Sasha forced a glib smile past her astonishment. “Are you sure you’re not saying that just because of how good the sex is between us?” She meant to be dismissive, but her voice shook.

  Damien’s eyes did not release hers. They relentlessly poured his love into her while he held her hands clasped in his. As if he knew how hard it would be for her to say the words they both knew waited for him under her tongue. He leaned across the table and kissed her. His mouth pressing sweetly against hers. Then his tongue, a gentle intrusion, slipping against hers, stroking, bringing a slow pleasure. Even in the midst of so many people at the restaurant, the heat between them rose like a swift tide. Damien slowly disengaged their kiss, nibbling her lips before he pulled back to his side of the table.

  Sasha licked her mouth to taste the faint traces of scotch and sweetness he had left behind. “I love you, Damien Taylor.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  Sasha flushed, embarrassed she’d been so transparent. And happy that, incredibly, this man loved her too. She reached for her hot apple cider with a hand that shook, took a sip, swallowed the hot and spicy drink. She jumped when Damien touched the back of her hand. She looked at him. And felt her mouth go dry.

  His face had changed, had the hard look she’d come to associate with his desire. With sex. His mouth was curved and firm. Eyes a burning, bright blue on her face.

  “Put your hands flat on the table,” he murmured, his voice low and almost conversational.

  She knew it was a tone that had to be obeyed. Sasha put her hands on the table in front of her, bracketing her half-empty glass of hot cider. Damien took a sip of his scotch, pursed his lips as he watched her from across the table. Then he deliberately put down the crystal tumbler and stood up.

  Sasha clenched her teeth to prevent herself from crying out in disappointment, to ask where he was going. But he only left his seat across from her to sit in the chair next to her. Air leaked from between her lips. Relief.

  With him beside her now, she could smell the subtle spice of his cologne, the Scotch on his breath. Something darker, masculine. Intoxicating. He shifted, the jacket moving across his broad shoulders, giving a hint of the hard muscles she knew coiled beneath the expensive fabric. He reached across the table for his drink and put it directly in front of him.

  Around them, the restaurant carried on as before. The wait staff moving efficiently amid the tables while the restaurant spun lazily on top of the world. The city lights winked like diamonds.

  One of Damien’s hands dropped beneath the table to rest on his thigh out of sight beneath the black and white print table cloth.

  “Tell me,” he murmured. “What’s the thing you like about me best?”

  She startled at the question, not at all expecting something so innocuous given with the wickedly sexy look on his face. Sasha licked her lips, opened them.

  “You can’t say anything about my looks or the way I make your body feel.”

  Her mouth snapped shut. A moment later, she felt his hand on her thigh, over the deep rose fabric of her dress. A dress he’d complimented when she’d come out of the walk-in closet wearing it with black high heels and her hair swept up in an elegant topknot.

  “Tell me, darling,” he said softly.

  His fingers floated over her clothed thigh, distracting all thought from her mind, but the whip of command in his voice brought her back to what she should have been saying. She licked her lips again. Her hands twitched against the table cloth.

  “I like that you make me feel special,” she said finally.

  “Tell me more.”

  His fingers caressed her skin through the silk, making slow circles that sent ripples of arousal between her legs. Sasha’s thighs fell open. Her nipples grew hard against the thin silk of the dress, tightening almost painfully, sinfully. As he caressed her, she told him about being in group home and never having anything for herself, how everything she’d ever called her own had been taken away, stolen, or lost when she’d been moved from group home to foster family then back to a group home again.

  “Although I don’t own you,” she murmured. “I love the feeling of you belonging to me, and of me belonging to you. That no one can take us away from each other.” She said the words as his fingers tugged the silk of her dress higher until nothing lay between her flesh and his touch. Her breathing sped up.

  On a whim, she hadn’t worn any underwear on their dinner date. She was glad she’d planned ahead.

  Damien touched her thigh, caressed the sensitive flesh, nakedness upon nakedness. Then he slipped his hands between her thighs. She was already wet for him. He hissed, reached out to pick up his Scotch with his left hand, while the fingers of his right swirled in her wetness, delicately caressed her swollen clit. Sasha bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from making any noise.

  “And what else?” he asked as he sipped his drink. “Are there any other reasons that an incredible woman like you would want a man like me?”

  “Plenty!” She gasped the word as he thrust two fingers inside her, a slow and delicious stroking that made her want to sink her fingers into his shoulders, bite his throat, whisper his name. But she could do none of these things. She couldn’t even think of what else he might want to hear. She could only feel. Only react. Only revel in the bliss taking over her body. Her hands flattened against the table cloth. Widened as the fingers teased her opening, moving in and out of her in an unpredictable but spine melting rhythm, his thumb circling her clit. Hard then soft. Hard again. Tingling heat filled her belly, pooling between her thighs, making her muscles tremble. Her breath staggered, a whimper left her throat.

  She wanted him to touch her breasts. Touch them just like he knew she liked. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The other diners loitered around them. The efficient waiters that had long ago dropped off the check and didn’t try to rush them through their drinks.

  Although no one looked at them in any particular way, she felt they all knew that Damien’s hand was between her thighs, that he was driving her closer and closer to a chattering climax. Her lashes fluttered low over her eyes as his fingers moved in her pussy, coaxing the pleasure from her, licking heat and fire and a lush desire into her.

  Her body quivered on the edge of orgasm even though Damien’s fingers didn’t get as deep as she liked. He stroked her again. She whimpered behind her teeth, her breath coming quickly as the orgasm rolled into her pussy, into her stomach, into her entire being. She shuddered around his fingers as she came. Her teeth clamped hard enough on her lip to draw blood. She called his name, softly. Softly while her fingers flexed and curled involuntarily on top of the table.

  “That was very good,” he murmured. “You deserve a reward for being so quiet.”

  He drew his hand from between her legs, sucked the fingers that had been fucking her. “A nice appetizer.” Then he reached for his drink and finished it with one swallow. Drew several bills from his wallet and left them with the check.

  “It’s time for us to go, darling.” His voice was low and urgent.

  They only made it as far as the hotel downstairs. In a room there, he slammed the door shut, yanked down his zipper, shoved up her dress and sank his hard cock into her. Knife. Hot butter. Throbbing cock. Wet pussy.

  “Oh!”

  A shoe fell off her foot and thudded to the floor. She sank her fingers into his neck, locked her ankles behind him, pulling even more into her as he fucked her against the wall. Kneading her breasts through the thin material of her dress. Pinching her nipples while she cried out, her pussy dripping and squeezing him tight, already on the verge of another orgasm.

  “You feel so fucking good!” he gasped into her throat.

  Then they were done talking. It was simply his cock in her pussy, prickles of sensation washing over her in waves, Damien angling his cock just right to stroke her g-spot, to make her scream his name. They finished together, a symphony of satisfaction singing loud and long in the room.

  Damien
panted, released her. Her legs loosened around him. Her feet fell to the floor. He kissed her damp throat, bit the sensitive spot where her neck and throat met.

  “Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” he growled. “The celebration just got started.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The warm Saturday evening air stroked Sasha’s face as she walked through downtown Louisville toward the side street where she had parked her car. Her skirt fluttered around her knees, moving with the rhythm of her meandering stride. She adjusted the canvas shopping bag with asparagus, purple potatoes, scallops, and fresh herbs she’d just bought from a gourmet market. Tonight, she would make Damien dinner, pour her love for him into a homemade meal he would never forget. With a quick nod of acknowledgment, she moved to the other side of the sidewalk to avoid bumping into a couple strolling arm in arm and eating ice cream cones.

  It had been almost a week since one of the most incredible nights of Sasha’s life. She could barely believe how her life had turned around. Damien loved her. Everything in her life was perfect. Supporters had come out of the woodwork after all the suspicion about the doping cleared away. She was looking for a new apartment now that she was able to keep her paychecks again. And best of all, Damien loved her. A smile flashed across her face.

  In the last week, she’d been breaking out into spontaneous smiles all over the place. At work. In the middle of the line at the supermarket. Sitting at a table in the coffee shop. In the shower while the soapy loofah ran over her skin, rough and invigorating like Damien’s kisses. She was filled to bursting with happiness and it felt incredible.

  As she turned off the main street to find her car, she looked down to open her purse and pull out her car keys. Someone bumped into her from behind and she looked up sharply. It was a man. He appeared suddenly in front of her, his face hard and cold. Something about him was familiar. Her eyes widened as she recognized him. Anthony Barnes. The trainer from McGreevy Stables.

  “Sasha Cormick?” He asked her the question of her name as if he already knew the answer. Of course he knew her. He had tried to hire her on at McGreevy nearly a year ago.

  She backed away, staring at him in suspicion with the keys grasped in her hand. Her heart began a frantic beat in her chest. Her adrenaline surged. She was poised to spin and run the other way back to the main street.

  But he grabbed her arm, slapped a hand over her mouth. It was musty, dirty, and smelled of rope, horse, and liniment. Her belly tightened with fear. Her throat locked up in panic. She screamed but the sound was muffled. She kicked. Fought. Screamed again. But he only grabbed her off her feet, using his stocky and powerful body to full advantage and wrestled her into a nearby white van that already had the side door open.

  In the van, he slapped a damp cloth over her mouth and nose. A sharp, sweet smell filled her nose. She drew a deep breath scream again but immediately felt her vision start to dim. Her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton balls. Then everything went gray. Black.

  Sasha swam slowly to the surface of consciousness. Her world rocked from side to side as she gradually opened her eyes. The van. She was in the van. She blinked at the white ceiling as her vision cleared. Her arms and legs tingled, prickled, as she came back to herself. Anthony Barnes!

  A startled gasp left her throat. She felt tape across her mouth, her skin pulling as she tried in vain to cry out. She opened her eyes wide, trying to pierce the darkness of the van. But she could see nothing. Light from passing cars and from streetlights slipped in then out of the vehicle as they drove. Her heart pounded with fear. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her hands were tied together behind her back. Her ankles were roped together, the cords chafing her bare skin.

  She twisted around, rolling her entire body across the dirty floor of the van that was littered with pieces of hay and bits of dirt. The smell of horses, hay, and sweat was strong around her. A pungent reminder of a barn. Sasha frantically looked around as her senses returned to her, the numbness in her arms and legs going away, her hearing returning to normal. She slid across the van floor, slammed into the side, as it made a turn. Within a few minutes, they stopped. Her pulse pounded in her throat as she waited for whatever would come next. Her palms were damp, sweating in her anxiety and fear as she twisted her wrists against the ropes.

  Oh God! What’s happening?

  The door of the van abruptly burst open. She flinched at the sudden bright light of a flashlight in her eyes. The spark of the overhead light. Anthony Barnes appeared in the opening like a beast from one of her nightmares. He was eerily composed. Every strand of his salt and pepper hair in place, the sleeves of his dark blue checkered shirt rolled up on his brawny forearms, the faded jeans belted and loosely fitted on his body.

  Even in the dark, she could tell that his left forearm had been badly burned. The scars rippled over his skin and up into the sleeve of his shirt. The left side of his neck and the lower part of his far were also marked by that old fire. Except for the scars, he didn’t look like a maniac. And that scared her more than if he had come at her foaming at the mouth and threatening to beat her to death.

  She slid backwards in the van away from him. But it was no use. He reached in as if she was nothing more than a stubborn horse and jerked her out by her arms. She cried out at the pain in the shoulder, the ropes chafing her wrists even more.

  “Come, Ms. Cormick,” Barnes said. “I don’t have all day to train you properly.”

  She stumbled when he dragged her out of the van. Her ankle twisted painfully despite the low-heeled sandals on her feet. Sasha gasped in pain, struggled to keep her feet even as Barnes dragged at her arm. She looked around, shocked to see that she was on the property of Taylor Stables, just down the hill from the burnt out old barn.

  Barnes was merciless as he dragged her through the darkness, the bobbing shaft of light that was his flashlight illuminating their way through the darkness. He yanked her toward the old barn. The building reared up, frightening and charred, in the darkness; its days of usefulness long gone.

  Why is he taking me there? What is he doing?

  Fear knocked against her chest from the inside out. Her breath came in ragged gasps from her throat. Sasha fought him. She dropped to the ground, gasping as her tailbone hit the hard-packed dirt and grass. She tried to roll away from him but he stopped her, dropped to his knees and grabbed her, pinning her against the ground. He breathed heavily on top of her.

  “If you force me to knock you out again, I will.” His voice rasped in her ear, rough and dangerous.

  Then, before she could respond to his threat, he hefted her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour. Barnes walked quickly with her into the barn, between the charred stalls, and under the roof that was half gone, pieces of it eaten away by the fire, snaggled teeth of burnt wood thrusting up into the night sky. Barnes dropped her into a pile of musty hay. Her teeth snapped together. She grunted and curled into herself as pain shot through her hip from her abrupt contact with the ground. He tied her to the remnants of a stall, lashing her against the blackened wood.

  Then Barnes made a dismissive noise and turned away from her. He took a cell phone from his pocket. Dialed a number.

  The moon above them was bright and thick, its substantial half disc pouring light down into the barn. It showed Barnes on the phone with the cell held to his ear, the light from the screen illuminating his face.

  “Good evening. Anthony Barnes here.” He stopped speaking for a moment, listening to whoever it was on the other end of the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear what I have to say? I have your little slut with me.” He paused again, a cold smile moving across his face. “Yes. That one.” Now, an actual laugh tumbled from him, joyful and truly amused. “This is not a ransom demand. I just want you to know that I have her. I’m going to fuck her.”

  Sasha shivered at his cold tone. The terror ratcheting higher in her throat.

  “I’m going to fuck her hard until this place runs
red with her blood. Then I’m going to burn her alive just like your family burned me.” Barnes strolled toward Sasha and she cowered back against the stall where he had tied her, shivering and crying in her fear, her body swarmed in alternating waves of heat and cold. She was terrified.

  “But she won’t be saved like I was. She’ll die here in this place and your happiness will be over.” His eyes burned down at Sasha. “Then you’ll know the kind of hell I’ve been in all these years since you threw me out.” Barnes knelt down on the ground next to Sasha. Before she could twist away from him, he grabbed her face, snapping his fingers tight around her cheeks and mouth.

  “You can call the cops, Taylor. You can call all the powerful contacts you have in your entire self-serving universe, but by the time you find your little slut, she’ll be a melted and ruined mess you won’t even recognize.” A frantic voice burst from the other end of the line. Damien calling Sasha’s name. Barnes laughed and hung up the phone. He released Sasha’s face.

  She sobbed behind the tape sealing her mouth shut. Barnes only looked down at her, moonlight and the sharp illumination from the flashlight bringing his face into painful focus.