by Dani René
“It’s okay to say his name you know. I’m not a fragile doll that’s going to break when you mention Sam,” I remind her with a small smile.
“I know, I just don’t want you to be upset that he’s contacted us and… Well, I don’t know, I feel like kicking his ass into gear.” She shrugs with a grin that only Theia can pull off when talking about something serious like my heart breaking.
“I’ll be okay.” With that, she leaves me to memories that haunt me as I lie back. The one that hits me is from the night I was so well and truly fucked by Sam, that I felt him for days after. We were rough, both of us devouring the other. For many nights after, I would touch myself remembering how he took me. How he thoroughly claimed me. Not only that night, but all the nights before and after.
I trust he’ll come for me. I believe we were destined. And even though my life didn’t turn out the way I wanted, I know I was put through hell to find the heaven he’s given me.
The metal is cold against my skin, but I know he’ll love this. I started dressing for him long before we figured out there was something real between us. The way his hungry gaze trails over my skin every day is enough to set me on fire. This ensemble is new, I’ve asked Theia to buy it for me and when she brought it to me a few hours ago, I knew tonight would be the perfect night.
I’m scheduled to dance tonight and this will look incredible against the silver backdrop I’ve asked the guys to set up for me. The choker that clips around my neck is a thin gunmetal leather with three chain links that have thin, beaded metal balls hanging from them in a pattern which covers my breasts. They’re strategically placed so they cover my nipples, but I know when I’m dancing they’ll shift over my skin and I’ll be on display.
Men have seen my breasts before, they’ve seen my nipples, but I’m not brave enough to bare my pussy, so my panties are a pair of thin silk boy shorts that hug my pert ass cheeks.
“You’re not fucking wearing that,” a venomous growl announces from behind me and I find the gaze I’ve been longing for burning a hole into me.
“Why?” Squaring my shoulders, I feel the chains shift and suddenly his gaze turns molten.
“Jesus, Angel, your tits are hanging out.” He steps into my bedroom shutting the door behind him. I stifle a giggle because this is what I wanted. They always say never poke a sleeping bear, but I’ve just gone and woke the beast.
“Don’t I look pretty?” I challenge. A deep rumble, almost an animalistic growl, comes from his chest and suddenly I’m slammed against the wall. His hard body pressing me against the cold tiles.
“Pretty? You want to know if you look fucking pretty?” he hisses under his breath. Deep blue pools are dark with frustration and desire swirling like a cloud about to consume me.
“Yes.” The response falls like a drop of oil in water, settling on the liquid, not mixing.
I’m taunting him. And I love every second.
“Do you like fucking with my head, little pet?” he growls. “Do you enjoy making me hard as a fucking rock while I watch you sway your little ass for those assholes?” His grip on my arm tightens painfully, but I revel in it, aching for more.
“No, because I don’t dance for them, I dance for you.” Everything stills at my honesty, our breathing, our hearts, and the air around us is heavy with emotion. We wait, both watching, like hunters. I break the silence with more foolish words. “I like taunting you, I love feeling your eyes on me. And yes, making you hard as fucking steel is my ultimate goal so you’ll come back here and take it out on me.”
His eyes narrow, his tongue darts out to wet his lips and then his mouth crashes down on mine in a soul stealing, all consuming kiss. His tongue darts into my mouth dancing with mine as our breaths become one, our bodies both hungry with need, and our hearts both beating with the same rhythm. My hands come up, and I hold him against me, needing the rough with the soft.
Big, strong hands grip my ass painfully as he squeezes both cheeks, pulling me against his body. The thick hardness of him presses against my core, but nothing he does satiates the ache deep in my belly. Only having him inside me will do that, and I know we don’t have time.
As quickly as it started, he breaks the kiss and steps away from me. “Jesus, Angel. We need to go.” He scrubs his hand over his head, over the short dark hair that’s shaven within an inch of its life.
“Is that it? You treat me like I’m yours, by being jealous over something I’m wearing, but when I allow you in you push me way?” I grind out, biting back the tears threatening to ruin my make up.
“We can’t do this now. Let’s go.” And he closes down again, as always.
Pushing by him, I make my way up the stairs, ignoring him shouting for me. Every time I dance, he does this, and every time I fall for it. I let myself feel for him, well fuck him.
Stalking into the club, I head backstage and almost knock Genie on her ass. “What the hell, girl?”
“Sorry, I’m just pissed off, he’s an asshole.” She’s one of the girls I’ve gotten friendly with, and she knows about my feelings for Sam, what she doesn’t know is that I’m falling in love with him.
Her long black hair swishes as she shakes her head. “You and the boss man must be careful, okay?” I nod, and head into my dressing room to check my make up.
He hasn’t followed me, and frankly I don’t want him to. No, that’s a lie, I do want him to. Theia’s voice booms through the thin walls as she announces me. I make my way to the back of the stage and wait for my song to start. I’ve asked her to play a new song, one he hasn’t seen me dance to before. Even after the stupidity in my bedroom moments ago, I still want to do this for him. I still want him to see me.
The song echoes, booms, and vibrates through me as I step on stage. “You’re The One That I Want” by Lo-Fang is slow, sexy, and the lyrics are perfect for the message I’m trying to convey.
I twirl, my long blonde hair swirling loose around me. The pole they’ve put on stage for me glitters and shimmers. As I grip it, I see him at the bar with a tumbler in his hand. With a naughty smirk, I wrap my legs around the metal and do my sexiest dance yet.
As soon as the song ends, I’m back on my feet for my second and last song of the night. “Dirty Little Secret” by Bullet for My Valentine booms around me and my body moves in time with the music. Closing my eyes, I get lost in the song, ignoring the jeers and words being thrown at me from the vile creatures I’m entertaining. There’s only one man I want and I can feel his gaze on me like he’s right here touching me.
I feel his hands, lips and body as I bend. When I kneel on the stage in the pose he taught me, ass up head down, I can practically feel my skin burning from his glare.
When I open my eyes from where I’m positioned, my gaze lands on his and, in that moment, as the lyrics—“You’re an animal”—seem to be talking about us, I smirk and slowly push myself up.
The song ends and I give my audience a curtsy and head off stage to screams for an encore. But I don’t go back. I can’t. I head to my bedroom. The hallway is dimly lit and I don’t hear him behind me until I’m at my door and suddenly I’m propelled forward. “Did you like your little display out there?”
“You mean me doing my job? Yes, it was fun.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Angel.” His anger is palpable, but he has no right to be. This is the life he’s given me, so he’s got to get over it.
“You have no fucking right to be angry, you also have no fucking right to scream at me for no reason. You’ve—”
My words are halted when he crashes his mouth on mine. With a tight grip on my hips, he brings my body flush with his and I feel every ridge of his torso. Reaching up, I twine my hands around his neck and hold on for dear life, because there’s no other place I’d rather be.
I’m unsteady when he lifts me and allows me to wrap my legs around his waist. “I want to fuck you into next week for your childish display.” He growls out in frustration.
“Then why don’t you?
” I taunt. He walks me toward my dresser and gestures with his chin to the sound system, which I turn on to my playlist for him.
“I’m going to, right now. I’m going to fucking hurt you, my little Angel.”
“Good.”
“You’ve turned into a little masochist, baby,” he murmurs in awe. Nodding, I grin under his heated stare. It’s true. The pain he doles out takes me higher than I ever could have imagined. He reaches for my hand and tugs me to my bed. “Bend over, grip the sheets and hold on tight.” I do as he says, then before I have time to think, my panties are ripped away and I’m bare to his gaze.
“Sam—”
“Quiet. Nothing from those pretty lips of yours unless it’s you moaning my name.” His words send a tingle through me. He kicks my legs apart and I’m now splayed to whatever the hell he has in mind as my punishment.
“So pretty, this pussy is mine. It belongs to me, Angel. You belong to me,” he states with confidence, more so than ever before. The feather light touch of his fingers trails its way down my spine to my ass, then slowly, he makes his way to my core.
I’m soaked just from a simple touch.
With both hands, he grips the globes of my ass, opening me in an obscene manner, and devours me. My knees start trembling as my belly tightens, and I feel the orgasm that’s about to implode ease its way to my pussy.
“Sam, Sam, oh God.” I can’t form complete sentences, and the only word that escapes my lips is his name. His fucking name.
The white-knuckle grip I have on the sheets is so tight, I’m sure I’d be able to shred them. “So delicious,” he growls behind me, his warm breath fanning over my drenched entrance. “You taste like sin, my Angel.”
“Please, Sir, may I come?” I purr in the way I know he likes.
“Not yet. You haven’t earned it.” He rises, leaving me panting for more. I hear the shuffle and my drawer opening and closing, then my hands are pulled behind my back and my wrists are bound at my lower back. “Up and turn around. I want you on your knees.” Obeying the command, I quickly rise and pivot, meeting dark pools of desire. I drop to my knees and open my mouth. “Good girl.” No more words are spoken while he pushes his briefs down and strokes his cock for me.
I flick out my tongue and lap at the salty pre cum on the tip, savoring him like he does me. Then he slides into my warm mouth. With my eyes trained on his, I watch his head drop back when I swallow him into my throat. Humming around the crown, making him growl out my name.
This man is utter perfection when he’s lost inside me. He grips my hair and starts moving back and forth in my mouth, again and again. When suddenly his body locks and I feel warm jets of release coat my mouth and throat. And I do what any good girl would. I swallow each drop.
When his eyes meet mine again, he grins. “You’re perfect. Now you will come.” His cock falls from my mouth and he lifts me to my feet. “You ready to come, baby?”
Nodding, I offer him a shy smile. “Yes, please.” He reaches behind me and unfastens the rope.
“Hold on tight, Angel, you’re going for a ride.” I frown in confusion when suddenly, he lifts me up and walks toward the wall. “Ready?” I’m still confused, but nod, then let out a squeal when he lowers, lifting me so my legs are draped over his shoulders, my back flush with the wall, and his face buried between my thighs.
“Samael!” He ignores my cries and eats me like I’m his salvation, redemption, and absolution.
Shaking my head of the memory, I push off the bed when Layla starts screaming. Lifting her, I hold her to my chest and coo in her ear to calm her down. She must feel the tension in me because she doesn’t simmer down.
I head to the music player and turn it on. She normally calms down when there’s music playing. “Shh, little one, you’ll be okay. We’ll both have your dad here soon enough. I don’t know how he’ll take to being a father, but he’ll just have to learn, won’t he?”
The sun is setting on the horizon and our room is bathed in the deep orange glow. Walking over to the window, I glance outside wishing with everything I have in me that I’ll see Sam walking up my drive with nothing but a ring in his hand.
When I find it empty, my heart drops. It’s silly. I’m being silly. Glancing down at my baby girl, I notice she’s suckling on her thumb. Her big blue eyes are exactly like her father’s. “You’re just like him aren’t you? You’re going to give me grief,” I tell her earnestly and she coos and giggles.
My heart constricts painfully, but when I remember the night we conceived her, I can’t deny it was one of the most beautiful moments I’ve ever had with him.
I just hope there will be more of those. I pray there will be.
“Sleep now, little one. Daddy will be home soon,” I promise her, but deep in my heart, I don’t know if he will. All I can do is hold out hope. And that’s what scares me.
“Man, we need to get into the East Wing where your father kept the safe.” I regard Dax and nod. He’s right, we need to see what he hid in there, perhaps more evidence, before I head to the FBI tomorrow. The key he found on my father’s body is held tight in my fist.
“Let’s go.” As we head up to the side of the house I’ve never been to, wariness settles over me and when I turn the key to the double doors which lead into the private wing my father lived in, I’m taken aback. There’s a whole other world inside.
The living area is furnished like an elite gentleman’s lounge, beautiful, expensive sofas and a pool table. The place is kitted out like it’s part of the club, but I’ve never seen it. As we delve deeper into the space we find a bar with more sofas and then I see it. Three St. Andrew’s crosses against the wall, further in are more cuffs, chains, whips and toys against the wall.
“Jesus.” Dax’s voice grabs my attention and I find him opening drawers of condoms, dildos, clamps. It’s like a fucking torture chamber in here. I head out toward the bedroom and find a small office. I know this is the camera room. My father had so many set up around the house to watch his girls.
Opening the drawers, I find rows and rows of tapes. Pulling them out, I notice they’re each titled. Paige, Freya, Kandi, Brit, Charley, and they just keep going.
“Sam, take a look at this.” Pivoting, I head out of the small office and find a door cracked. Pushing it open, I take in the opulent bedroom decorated in creams and pastel colors. It’s outfitted like a bedroom for a girl, and bile rises in my throat.
“What the fuck is this?” I step farther inside to find Dax poring over papers, photos. When I join him, I notice each page is titled with a girl’s name and the date. He flips through them, one by one, and there are some I recognize and some I don’t, when suddenly a blonde beauty snags my attention. “Go back, go back.”
He does and there she is. Sitting on the bed before us, her wrists bound to the headboard and her long blonde hair loose in waves. She’s naked except for a pair of soft pink panties. Freya Blythe.
Jesus, she was only sixteen when she came here. How the fuck did I not know this? Kael was right. My father was always a monster.
Pushing away, I head back into the camera room and pull out the tapes, finding the one’s marked Freya, I take the one with a number one on it and pop it into the player. The screen lights up and there’s my girl, my woman, my fucking pet. The man who walks in only moments later has my hackles rising. It’s not my father—it’s a man I thought was dead. The one person I believed was murdered for what he did.
My uncle. Harkin Wolfe.
Twins, Harlan and Harkin Wolfe were well known in the upper class social circles, but when the older brother by five minutes was pronounced dead, we all breathed a sigh of relief. It seems he’s alive and well.
Anger boils from deep in my gut. Guilt, confusion, everything hits me at once. I watch them all, tape after godforsaken tape and with each one I feel more pain, more agony, and the fierce need to hold her, to make up for what my father and uncle did.
The fifth one sparks to life and there she is, bent o
ver with the sick bastard I called uncle behind her, when he shifts I realize he’s got an anal hook inside her with a rope tugging it every time she moves. She’s pleading with him and all I can fucking do is slam my fist into the desk so hard it cracks under the sheer force I hit it with.
“Fuck!” I growl when I see him continue with his assault on her, only he’s not fucking her, he’s hurting her more than I ever did. More than I ever would. The hot wax he drips on her sensitive areas must be excruciating. Rearing back, I slam my fist into the screen. The pain from the glass slicing my skin doesn’t even register because all I see is red. I storm back into the bedroom and tear it apart in a haze of fury.
Ripping paintings, vases, whatever I can find from the cabinets and off the walls. By the time Dax puts a hand on my shoulder, the place looks like a tornado has swept through it.
“Say goodbye, man. We’re leaving.” With that, I walk out without another look back. We’ve got all we need, and it’s time I claim my woman and give her the vows she needs to hear from me.
xxx
“This is the paperwork you need. It took me so long because he never trusted me. When he died, I found the keys, combinations, everything I could to get what you needed.” I place the folder with every client’s name, address, their kinks and fetishes on the table. The two agents nod. They don’t know I killed my own father and they’ll never know. They think he had a heart attack, Dax and I covered all our bases so all that’s left is to get all the other fuckers arrested.
The folder I’ve just handed them has every name of all the clients that ever visited and partook in the events at Caged. And as I sit back, watching them pour over the pages, I know I’ve done the right thing. It’s been years coming, but after what happened with Kael, I had to make it right somehow.
“Thank you, Mr. Wolfe. As we said, you’ll be acquitted in exchange for a full testimony and access to the mansion with everything as it is now. The girls will be released to a home for abused women and they’ll be cared for and assisted in finding jobs, possibly education for those who want to study. They’ll have a full life. We want you to remember that as of now, you’re no longer an employee of your father or Caged. The money from the estate will be transferred to you—”