His Devil's Desire

by Linzi Basset

  “I have a business to run, Rhone. You can’t keep me under lock and key for the rest of my life. This is kidnapping.”

  Samantha skirted to the side of the room to avoid Rhone, who was adamant on cuffing her to the bed before he left.

  “As long as you remain a threat to me and my friends, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “I’m done trying to absolve myself. I have been nothing but honest with you.”

  “I guess the scab on the back of my arm is my imagination then?”

  “Fuck you, Rhone Greer—”

  “Watch your language, Samantha,” he warned darkly. He cursed when she managed to duck under his arm once again.

  “I didn’t shoot you,” she all but shouted at him. “I told you the truth. Bulldog was at the hunt. It had to have been . . .”

  She swallowed her words at the dogmatic expression that crossed his face. Her sigh was heavier than a ton of bricks.

  “You know what; I’m tired of this shit. I’m done. Do your worse, Rhone. I can’t force you to believe me but you have the technology at your disposal to verify what I said.”

  “Don’t you think I haven’t already done that? We checked the security footage. We didn’t see anyone in that maze and you weren’t with the group all the time. There was a period that you weren’t visible on the cam footage.”

  “Oh, for god’s sake. I was sitting on the stone bench under the tree in front of the patio! And as far as Bulldog is concerned, he’s not an idiot, Rhone. Do you honestly think he wouldn’t have checked that out? Of course, he would’ve stayed out of sight. Why don’t you ask Max to hack into the National satellite system with his program? If you’re really interested in finding the truth, you’ll find what you seek there,” she pointed out. “Now, unless you’re prepared to knock me unconscious, I am walking out of this room and going to work,” she declared and yanked open the door. She ran down the stairs as fast as she could, not completely confident that he’d let her go that easily.

  His voice grated in her ear when she reached the kitchen and proved her summation. It would take a miracle to get him to trust her.

  “And just how do you expect to get to work? You’ve got no transport.”

  She glanced at him briefly before she headed to the key holder against the wall and yanked off a set of keys.

  “Why, that’s easy, honey,” she all but crooned. “I’ll just take one of the seven vehicles you’ve got rotting in your garage,” she sassed him.

  Rhone glanced at the key holder to see what she’d selected. With a curse, he grabbed another set of keys and chased after her.

  “You aren’t taking the Harley. That thing weighs eight-hundred-pounds. You don’t have the strength to . . . Samantha! Get off that fucking bike!”

  He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off the seat. He ignored her flailing arms and legs and pushed her against the wall. His body slammed between her legs, stealing her breath with a whoosh.

  “Damn you. Stop mauling me . . . mmm.”

  Rhone’s lips captured hers in a hard, punishing kiss that effectively silenced her. She struggled in annoyance.

  “No, you don’t get to mistrust me and then kiss me. It doesn’t work like that. Get your fucking dick out from between my legs,” she ordered as she renewed her struggles, but with her legs on either side of his body and his unmovable strength, she had no leverage.

  She was breathless by the time she realized he was doing nothing but stare at her, unaffected by her fists slamming against his back. His gaze darkened.

  “No! Lemme go,” she shrieked when he caught her fists in one hand and slammed them against the wall above her head.

  The other hand roamed her hips and rubbed her nipples until they crested into hard nubs.

  “You have a short memory, my pet. I told you, I don’t have to like or trust you to fuck you. I have a considerable sexual appetite which you will feed. Whenever and wherever I demand. And I demand sustenance. Now.”

  “Go to hell. I’m not some fucking sex toy to be blown up and used when it suits you.”

  His voice lowered as he switched to full Dom-mode. “You will do as I say, Samantha. Get on your knees and fuck my cock with your throat. Now.”

  Her inner submissive responded to his command. She was helpless to fight the sudden urge to please him. To show him how good it could be between them. Her body relaxed as she conceded to his power, beguiled by the rough edge in his voice and the hungry look on his face. His arousal was manifested in every flex of his strong, muscled frame.

  Rhone felt her body’s submission before she did and released her. He stepped back to lean against the Harley, watching her through half-lidded eyes. He’d been wanting to feel her hot, pouty lips wrapped around his cock from the first day they’d met. Just the thought of pushing his length all the way down her throat, caused the veins in his cock to surge with charged pulses of blood that careened into the end of his shaft, hardening him firmly inside his jeans.

  Samantha went down on her knees and unzipped his pants, licking her lips when his large cock filled her small hands. She leaned closer and flicked at the blunt tip, tracing the slit with the edge of her tongue.

  “No. This is a throat fuck. Get to it,” he barked as he grabbed her head. He fisted her mane and jerked her forward.

  “Open,” he ordered in a raw growl. He fought the emotions that threatened to unhinge him; to swallow him whole and weaken his guard until he was so entranced by this bewitching woman that nothing else mattered.

  Keep a cool head, Greer. You can’t afford to trust this woman. She’s a killer in sheep’s clothing, remember that.

  Samantha’s mouth fell open. She looked up and winced at the chilling look in his eyes. A rumbling moan edged out from the back of his throat.

  “Get to it,” he ordered again and pushed his engorged cock into her mouth. He pumped vigorously, watching as viscous strands of saliva stretched languidly from her chin as she dutifully swallowed him.

  “That’s more like it,” he slurred, already half-drunk by the lust that careened through him.

  Every part of his body now ached and throbbed, demanding release. Pushing in to the hilt, he repeatedly impaled her. He watched dispassionately as tears started to wash down her cheeks, her hands pushing back against his thighs. Her throat convulsed around his cock as he pushed himself down her throat again and again with a frenzied urgency.

  Then she did something that pushed him over the edge. She wrapped her arms around his waist and offered her throat to him freely—his to plunder and pillage as he wanted. That trusting gesture almost unmanned him. Almost—but then he remembered just who and what she was.

  You won’t get me that easily. No, my little pet, it’s gonna take a lot more than that to win my trust.

  But Rhone had no defense against the sensations she evoked with her throat muscles clenching around his shaft. He came undone, got lost in the euphoria. Heat flared inside his chest, waves of rapture threatened to drown him in a state of tantric ebullience. His hips jerked as he thrust harder, grunting with satisfaction. The world fell away as he ejaculated.

  “Fuck me,” he groaned as he erupted in the back of her throat. Pulsating streams of hot viscous semen spewed out. Cupping her head, he emptied himself with short, quick thrusts.

  His breathing haggard and torn, he pulled her up and held her, watching as she gasped for breath. She looked beautiful beyond measure, even with the black smudges beneath her eyes, spittle and cum running down the sides of her chin—a sign of her capitulation.

  If only she weren’t my enemy, things could’ve been so different.

  He pushed the wayward thought back. She peeked at him from under long lashes. Her bedraggled hair shone in the sunlight.

  “You might control me as a Dom, Rhone Greer but don’t, for one moment, believe you have any other hold over me. Remember one thing, Master Razor, I chose to submit to you sexually, but if you abuse that trust, you can go fuck yourself.”

&
nbsp; She ripped loose from his hold and strode toward the kitchen door to go and clean up. She glared at him over her shoulder before she stepped inside.

  “And you came very close to a hand combat with your own dick with this scene, so tread carefully if you want to feel my pussy wrap around your cock again . . . my dear, Sir.”

  Rhone watched her go. The smile curving his lips spoke of the admiration he couldn’t suppress. Samantha Frazer had just proven that she wasn’t scared of him. That she would fight for what she believed was right and for what she wanted.

  The glint in her eyes when their eyes had met with his cock hilt deep down her throat that unfurled the need to investigate her innocence.

  Rhone’s mistrust stemmed from years of dealing with people who had ulterior motives. He’d been under cover for a long time and saw how people changed and manipulated others with lies and promises to pull wool over their eyes. He’d learned to step lightly whenever something didn’t sound kosher or suspicious. There were just too many holes in Samantha’s story and past to shatter that wall of suspicion in his mind.

  “Very well, Samantha Frazer. I will give you the benefit of the doubt but hell won’t be far enough for you to hide if I find out you that you lied to me,” he muttered to himself as he walked into the kitchen.

  “Enzo, tell that little hellcat she may use the Range Rover,” Rhone said as he tossed the keys at him. Enzo had been with him long enough not to be fazed, if he’d heard what they’d been up to in the garage.

  Enzo caught it with a surprised look on his face.

  “You’re letting her go?”

  Rhone’s shoulders lifted in a negligent motion. “There’s a tracer in her collar. I’ll know where to find her. Besides, aren’t you the one who very belligerently informed me how much of an imbécile I am?”

  “Oui, but you never pay any attention to my opinions. Why the sudden change of mind?”

  Rhone pondered over the question. His emotions were confusing him. Hot, then cold. It was frustrating and very unlike him. He’d never treated any woman the way he’d just treated Samantha. His mother would have a fit if she ever caught wind of it. Mistrusting her wasn’t even the reason. If he was honest with himself, he used it as an excuse. It was the only thing he could grasp at to keep her at a distance.

  His loyalty to Keon. That was at the root of it all. The loss of Amelia and Beckie had changed Keon. He’d become closed, cold and as emotionless as a dead piece of chopped up wood. And Rhone carried the guilt of their deaths to this day, especially as he’d been the one receiving threats that had led to the hit that killed her.

  Until Rhone knew for a fact that Samantha wasn’t the one who’d caused Keon’s heartache, he would never fully trust her.

  “I’m willing to give her one chance, Enzo but she’s walking a tight rope. If she slips, it’s over.”

  With those words, he walked out. His thoughts were in disarray all the way to Precision Secure’s offices for their daily meeting. It was time to bring all his friends up to date with the new developments. His gut warned him that Ace’s sudden reappearance had everything to do with Senator Kevin Douglas and the bill he was trying to pass; or, to be more accurate, to get him out of the way to make the senator and his family vulnerable.

  “You’re grasping at straws, Rhone, or rather, she’s leading you by the dick,” Keon scoffed when he told them his theory.

  The remark rolled off Rhone’s back. He understood Keon’s point of view. He would’ve felt the same way.

  “Am I? Why do you think I hooked up with Samantha in the first place, Keon? I believed she was a danger to you and I wanted to keep her close so that I can keep an eye on her.”

  “But now you’re the target, not Keon,” Lance reminded him.

  “Yes. If she is to be believed—and I reiterate, if—she has no intention of following through with Bulldog’s order.”

  “Are you saying that she claims not to be working for him?” Jack queried. He sat forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

  “Yes. He’s using her sister to force her to do his bidding.”

  “Ahem . . . then why has she just received five million dollars in her bank account, Rhone?” Max asked, tapping on his laptop. “I’ve set taps on all her accounts, cell phones, data, etc. It was deposited from an unknown Cayman’s account an hour ago.”

  Rhone stared at Max trying to compute what he’d just heard. Had he really been duped by her liquid gold eyes?

  “I’m not surprised. You need to separate your brain from your dick, Rhone. That woman is poison and mark my words, you’re gonna go to sleep one night and won’t wake up again,” Keon sneered.

  “Have any of you given a thought to the syndicate we’ve been helping the Government to unravel? The Sixth Order? We’ve intercepted a few drug deliveries over the past five years. We all know they have corrupted half of the police force and just as many high-ranking officials in the FBI and CIA. The fact that Samantha went to see Bulldog at the CIA head-office could mean he is a corrupt agent,” Lance prodded with his usual calming tone.

  “Not you too, Lance,” Keon growled. “What is it about blondes that turn you and Rhone blind? She’s a fucking liar!”

  “Come now, Keon. It’s the mafia’s MO. First, they will threaten, then they will set you up for a fall and if that doesn’t work, they’ll start by getting rid of those closest to you and then finally, you. I’m telling you now, the way she’s acting, it’s only because she’s scared of what could happen to Rhone if he knew just who Bulldog is. He is the mafia’s lackey if you ask me, but my bet is specifically on the Sixth Order. They’ve made it clear that they wanted us out of the way and nothing they’ve tried till now has worked. What better way to cripple us than to get rid of our leader? That’s why Rhone has been made the target.”

  “So, they deposited the money to put her in a bad light,” Jack speculated. “That does smell like a move a crime syndicate would make, Keon.”

  Keon grunted but didn’t respond. His expression was dogmatic. It was obvious that he didn’t want to consider any options.

  “Max, Samantha claims that Bulldog was at the treasure hunt. See if you can go back and find a trace of him or the shooter via the NASA satellite links. He—or she—would’ve been in one of the Bur oak trees on the south side of the maze to take a shot at me. Start there and corroborate her tracker’s movements around that time. If what she claims is true, she would be in front of the maze somewhere and not anywhere near the trees around the time I was shot.”

  Rhone hid his anger at this new development. It was possible that the deposit was made without her knowledge but until Max could confirm there had been someone in the maze, he would reserve judgment.

  “My guess is that we will find someone there, but none of you are considering that she is clever enough to know that we would check it out. She’s covering her own backside but you’re all too enamored by her cute little ass and perky boobs to realize it. What if that interception was in fact a planned meeting from Bulldog’s side? You’ve been keeping her under lock and key, Rhone. It would’ve been the only way he had, to make contact with her,” Keon interjected.

  “That’s an insult to all of us, Keon. None of us are young studs with only sex on our minds; we’ve been in combat often enough to know that life isn’t black and white. There are gray areas. You’re the one who taught us that. Maybe you’re the one who is blinded by hatred,” Lance remonstrated. “We’ve never been sure about what really happened that day, Keon. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Lance is right, mate,” Jack interceded. “Apart from the fact that you saw one assassin on the roof of the Hilton, we all saw and heard bullets flying from other directions as well. Remember, I was driving the limo and Max was in the passenger seat with me.”

  Keon’s expression remained impassive as he struggled to keep the memories of that fateful day at bay. He didn’t want to rehash it. He wanted his daughter.

  “What about Beckie? How are
we going to get her to safety? The thought that my little girl . . .” His throat clogged up and he swallowed hard. “That she’s wearing a fucking explosive around her wrist . . . that . . . You have no idea how it feels to know she’s alive and I can’t do anything to get to her. To hold her and . . .”

  With a curse, Keon jumped up and stormed out of the boardroom.

  Rhone had moved to stand in front of the window. He stared outside, sightless. He’d been unsuccessful to find a solution for extracting both Beckie and Lauren. The bracelets they wore, effectively tied their hands.

  “I’m not waiting any longer. Whatever Samantha’s true reasons are, she’s not going to budge. We need to find out who Bulldog is ourselves. Max, get Quinlan, Quade and Hagan involved. Maybe one of them has contacts in the CIA we could approach,” Rhone instructed.

  “What about that old varsity friend of yours? Isn’t he in the CIA?” Lance queried.

  “Yeah, he is but we’re not close and I’d rather not bother him.”

  “And Alex? I know he’s now the governor but he’s still involved with the CIA warfare division,” Max reminded him.

  “We need to go and speak to Alex anyway. I recall that he told us a while ago that they were working on finding a way to deactivate remotely operated weapons,” Rhone said, still facing away from them.

  “Fuck, yes. I forgot about that. It was after a terrorist group used one of the NASA engineers two years ago to steal information from their satellites. I’ll go with you,” he decided and shut his laptop.

  “Find Keon. I want him to join us.” Rhone instructed. “If there is a way to get it off Beckie’s arm safely, he should be the first to know.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Samantha breathed in deeply as she stood next to the Range Rover in front of Woodcraft Carpentry. She glanced around; the unnatural silence, at this time of day, gnawed at her insides. It hung in the air like a suspended moment, before a glass shattered on the ground. It was unusual, almost drawing her into a gaping void that should be filled with sounds; the whining of machines, the thump of a hammer on wood.