Claire was different. She was all business, classy, and had heart. She didn’t need a man to take care of her and it was a total turn-on. Granted, she might come from money and high social standing, but she was nobody’s fool. If anything, she was more of a fighter.
It took a certain kind of woman to work in a man’s world and this chick had what it took to work with the best of them. Her accounts were some of the most prestigious commercial properties in the city. He wasn’t a man who was threatened by a woman’s success. He was a man who not only respected it, but was thoroughly turned on by it. Nothing aroused him more than a professional woman with an alpha personality. A woman who was an alpha in business and a sub in bed was beyond sexy. Those attributes and personality traits were hard to find and Striker had no intention of letting this one get away. Suddenly, killing her was becoming less of a temptation but toying with her, much like a cat does prey, well, that was a different story. There’s nothing like a major mind-fuck to exact revenge. The challenge she offered by being smart and on top of her game only made her that much more intriguing. Much like a game of chess, each move he made would need to be well thought out and calculated. Let the games begin…
Chapter Eleven
Claire
Claire made her way into her house carrying a box that held files, her purse, and her laptop, which she always kept with her. It seemed like every time she left home she had to pack a suitcase. Unfortunately, it was unavoidable. There was more work that needed to be done tonight so she did what she did many days and brought her work home with her.
She set the box and her purse down so that she could lock the door. The last thing she needed was Victor taking it upon himself to walk in uninvited. He had already shown he wasn’t above trying to bully his way into her home. The fact that Striker had set him straight would probably scare him from doing anything overt, but covert, now that was a different story.
She never saw it coming. He grabbed her from behind and slammed her back into his chest, a chest that felt more like concrete than flesh. She couldn’t breathe. The air had been knocked from her lungs and the fact that he was using his hand as a makeshift gag over her mouth wasn’t helping. His breath was hot in her ear as he spoke and his voice had a predatory edge. This did not sound like the man who she had enjoyed having as a guest in her home. He sounded like a beast getting ready to feast on his prey. This was every woman’s nightmare so why the fuck was it turning her on?
“Look at you,” his voice taunted, “you are in a fix, aren’t you? Letting a man in your home you don’t know… I could be a serial killer for all you know. I’m going to tell you a secret, angel of mercy. There are two kinds of people in my world—predator and prey. You, my dear, are prey. You really should stop squirming like that. It’s making my cock very hard. I’ll tell you what. You be a good girl and go sit on the island in the kitchen or I’m going to hurt you. Granted, I would love nothing more than to subject you to pleasurable pain but if you want to keep that appointment you made at the Jeep dealership, you’ll do as I ask.”
Claire’s mind was in chaos. She couldn’t figure out how he knew about the appointment because she knew, for a fact, she hadn’t told him about it. All she had told him was that they were going car shopping. This wasn’t the first time she had noted that he knew something he wasn’t supposed to know.
His body pulled her back and he practically dragged her towards the kitchen island. Her heels were straight out and she had to scramble, taking awkward steps backwards just to keep up with his pace.
Once again, his hot breath tickled at her ear and caused goose bumps to form all over her body. “Get on the fucking island and don’t make me pick you up. You wouldn’t want me to hurt my ribs again, would you?”
She quickly got on top of the island, feeling a mixture of fear and anger towards her assailant. He never took his eyes off of hers as he removed her shoes and then bent her knees to position her feet on the edge of the countertop.
“Pin your legs back by holding onto your ankles and then don’t move.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Striker?”
The sound of a knife being flicked open silenced her and her only reaction was the shaking of her head no as her eyes widened.
“I hate pantyhose.” The knife sliced through them like butter as he spoke and, even as he cut, he never broke eye contact.
He rubbed his fingers over the wet spot that had formed in her silk panties and he tutted. “Your body tells on you. It reveals all of your deep, dark secrets. All of those dirty, nasty, little secrets, that you work so hard to keep hidden from that highfalutin social circle you run in, are mine to explore. In time, I’ll know every filthy, forbidden fantasy you have and I’ll play on them. I will use all those indecent thoughts you hide behind that professional armor you wear against you.”
He bent down and slid her panties over to run just one swipe with the tip of his tongue over her slit before he spoke again. “What did I ask you to do, Claire?”
“Pin my legs back by holding onto my ankles and then be still.”
“You would do well to follow my instructions.” It wasn’t a request and the look in his eyes scared her enough to obey him.
He pushed her folded knees down and out which caused her legs to spread even more. At this point, her knees were almost touching the countertop. His tongue flicked out of his mouth as he languidly licked her while he looked up and watched her face. She knew from previous experience that he didn’t want her closing her eyes. In a matter of moments, her breathing became heavy as every nerve in her body stood at attention.
“What are you doing to me?” she groaned. His full lips were now wrapped around the bundle of nerves at the center of her core, pulling and sucking as his tongue made its way around, swirling anywhere it could reach.
“You’re going to make me come.” Her voice was almost panicked, as if she was scared of what he might do if she came without his consent. A simple nod of his head, granting permission, gave her the relief of knowing she wasn’t getting on the bad side of a man who may or may not be crazy. With it came the explosion of her body responding to his mouth working its magic. He lapped at her juices, like he was cleaning up the mess he had made, before he answered her question from earlier.
“I’m doing the same fucking thing you’ve done to me. I’m getting in your head…”
Chapter Twelve
Striker
Watching Claire in her element was the ultimate turn-on. This was one savvy businesswoman and Striker could feel his cock twitch as the memory of what he had done to her crossed his mind. It was such a thrill to know that she was so composed and elegant, competent and professional, and yet, with all the polish she exhibited, he was the only person who was able strip that veneer away and make her his. The poor car dealer looked like he was scared of the woman who was confronting him.
“You and I both know that I have impeccable credit scores.” She pushed the paper across the desk and back in the dealer’s direction with emphasis, as if to say it was unacceptable, before she made her next statement. “Either you go back in there and talk to whoever it is you need to talk to, or I’m going to a different dealer and paying cash.”
The poor guy stumbled from the room and Striker waited until he was gone before he spoke to her. “You might be better off doing that anyway; pay it off and keep it in your name.”
Claire eyed Striker as if she was bored with the whole process of car shopping. “For tax purposes, it’s better to do it this way. The only reason I’m keeping it in my name is because you would have to answer to the government as to where you got that much money. The amount of money it takes to buy a Jeep Wrangler (Rubicon Hard Rock 4x4) will raise a red flag. I, unlike my father, don’t use money to control people. Therefore, as I previously stated, I would put it in your name just to corroborate that fact if it weren’t for the red flags that would be raised.”
“You have nothing to prove to me, Claire. I have never been under
the misconception that you were controlling like your father.” He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Wasn’t he doing just that by making her pay for the sins of her father? Wasn’t he assuming she was just like the man she was fervently trying to escape?
Striker leaned towards her and growled, “I don’t think I’m the one being controlled if our earlier activities are any indication. I’m not the kind of man who can be dominated in any way, shape, form, or fashion.”
Claire flushed bright red at Striker’s words as the dealer entered with a much better deal. She wasted no time signing the papers and waited until she reached the door to speak again, “follow us back to my house. I’m riding with him in his new car.”
Striker chuckled, shaking his head. This girl was one of a kind; that was for sure. “You do realize that it’s going to take a three car parade to carry out your command, princess?”
He had to duck as she threw the keys at him instead of to him. He just laughed, still managing to catch them.
“No mercy for a hurt man?”
“You’re almost healed so no.”
“Be careful. You may have to reap what you sow.” Though they had been bantering back and forth, the look on his face was serious enough that he was sure she was questioning just how ruthless he could be. He didn’t necessarily want Claire to be afraid of him, but he did want her to know that she was dealing with a man that could be cruel when necessary. When he had fought in the ring, there was a part of him that enjoyed the violence. It remains to be seen if any of that will bleed over into his personal life.
Striker
Striker watched as the woman who had, just minutes ago, been calmly sitting in the Jeep passenger seat beside him, now stood up and gripped the roll bar with both hands. As they sped down an open stretch of River Road located by the Ohio River, he watched as Claire threw her head back, allowing the wind to blow through her hair. They had taken the top off before they left her house and she had changed into a simple, cotton dress with spaghetti straps before they left.
She looked so fucking beautiful with her long, brown hair flying in the wind and her eyes closed, enjoying the freedom of the road. He had to have her and he couldn’t wait until they got back home. The sight of her being as wild and free as the wind took his breath away.
He pulled over into a secluded spot and yanked her from the Jeep. He was ravenous, a carnivore hungry for flesh. He slammed her over the hood, fisted her hair, and pulled her head back so that her ear was close to his mouth. “You’re going to hear every fucking threat I whisper in your ear.”
He tore at her dress and ripped her panties off, twisting them in his hand and throwing them to the side as if they were nothing but a nuisance. Her hands clawed at the hood of the Jeep they had just purchased. This was the first time he could ever remember her looking so unrestrained. “Don’t scratch your new car or I’m taking my belt to you later. I’m just itching to whip you, girl. I almost kind of hope you disobey.”
“You make me feel so fucking alive,” she gasped as he pushed his cock into her. He pounded at her insides as if his life depended on taking her.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he hissed.
“Like what?” she questioned him, confused.
“You weren’t supposed to get in my fucking head!”
“You’re in mine too, Striker.”
“It. Wasn’t. Supposed. To. Be. Like. This.” Each word was emphasized with a vicious thrust of his cock. He wanted to punish her for invading his thoughts.
He brutally yanked her head back by the fistful of hair he held. He growled out one more threat before exploding into her, “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done to me.”
As soon as he said it, Striker knew that he had made a mistake. He looked at her, ready to explain, but soon realized she was too far gone in the throes of the orgasm that ravished her body to understand the gravity, or meaning, of the threat he had made. His revenge could continue on as planned. He got lucky this time but he would need to take care not to expose himself in the future.
Chapter Thirteen
Claire
“You’re such a contradiction in terms,” Claire chuckled as she placed her laptop on the end table. She had been working in bed and was glad to finally put it down; she needed the break.
“What do you mean?” he asked, setting the tray of oriental take-out between them.
“You know, you’re bossy and dominant and yet you wait on me hand and foot.”
“Being an alpha personality doesn’t mean being a dickhead.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that because I’m an alpha personality. So, what would that make me if I was a jerk?”
“A princess twat head,” he answered without missing a beat.
She reached over and smacked him in his chest. He dramatically grabbed at his ribs. “How cold can a person be? Hitting a wounded man?”
“I call bullshit, Striker; you’re almost healed.”
“You’re assessment is correct. Now I’m wondering… If I can wrangle your little, independent ass in bed when I’m wounded, what do you think I can do when I’m at a hundred percent?”
“Well, whatever you’re thinking you’ve probably miscalculated by not factoring in that I’ll fight back now, with no consideration for your boo-boo.” She made sure to say boo-boo with pouty lips and a baby face as she mimed wiping a tear away.
The look on his face when he answered made her blood run cold, “I’m looking forward to it. There is nothing more exciting than taking a woman—my woman—while she writhes and attempts to fight me off. I like that. Taking you, from fighting me off to crying out my name in ecstasy, while I tease and taunt you, is a very intriguing thought to me.”
She could feel the challenge in his gaze while he held the chopsticks out to her. Tempting smells from the food he selected for her wafted in her direction. She opened her mouth, taking what he was offering her.
“Are you taking all that I’m offering you, Claire?” It was like everything he did or said had double meaning.
She opened her mouth, taking another bite of sweet and sour chicken, and it was as if she was simultaneously answering his question. She was taking everything this mystery man had to offer.
“Blind faith is a wonderful thing. Isn’t it, Claire? It’s intriguing, dangerous, yet undeniably alluring.” He set the chopsticks down and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.
“You brought a stray home, a feral stray, and if I didn’t know any better, I might think that I’m bringing out a side of you that you never knew existed. Be careful, princess, you could very well get much more than you bargained for. I guess none of that matters now because you, young lady, are at the point of no return. I’m not a man who permits U-turns.”
Everything he said to her seemed to hold some level of ambiguity, a veiled threat, or a double meaning. She wasn’t in the habit of second-guessing herself when it came to people’s motives but he was confusing her. Many times, they would be bantering like old friends and, out of nowhere, a solemnity would descend upon him and she couldn’t get a read on him. It was all very bewildering, yet stimulating at the same time.
The doorbell rang, pulling her from her musings. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No, but wait here in case it’s my father.” She intentionally didn’t say Victor even though she suspected there was a possibility it could be him. Better to not rile the beast in Striker, she reasoned.
She opened the small brass door that served as a peephole but couldn’t see anything but a delivery truck making its way back down the street. She couldn’t remember ordering anything but there was always the possibility that a client had sent her something.
She opened the door, picked the box up, and then made her way towards the kitchen island. She was just about to retrieve a knife so that she could cut the box open when Striker’s voice cut through the air.
“Wait a minute!”
“What?”
/> “Are you expecting any deliveries?” He made his way to her side, moved her out of the way, and took the knife from her hand to begin the task of opening the box.
“Oh my gosh! You are so silly. Don’t you think that you’re being a little bit paranoid? It isn’t uncommon for me to get gifts from clients.”
His head jerked around and he coldly eyed her as he spoke, “There better not be any fucking men sending you gifts.”
“So now you’re being paranoid and territorial. Perhaps you should contemplate peeing on all four corners of the house to mark your territory.”
“If memory serves me correctly, I’ve already marked my territory.”
A shrill scream cut through the air as Claire covered her face and backed away from the box. “Who the fuck would send me dead flowers and an oiled down, dead kitten.”
“That’s not oil; it’s blood. Still think I’m being paranoid?”
Claire
“He’s not dead,” Striker stated, taking the tiny bundle over to the sink. “Do you have any Dawn dish soap? It’s animal friendly.”
“Yes, here you go,” she answered, reaching under the sink and grabbing it.
She watched, completely mesmerized by the gentle touch he used with the tiny, little, black bundle. Thankfully, the kitten, now softly mewing, revealed as he was cleaned up that the blood he was covered in wasn’t his own.
Claire kept herself busy, filling a dish with cat food that she had from feeding a neighborhood kitten that had taken to her and would stop by every now and then to visit.
She was able to round up a litter box that she still had from cat sitting for a friend a few months back, and had the new little guy set up by the time he was finished with his bath. She watched as Striker wrapped the tiny, black bundle in a towel and made his way to a barstool.
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