Sarasota Revenge: BBW Contemporary Menage Romance (Level 69 Trilogy Book 2)

by Scott, Talyn

  She refused to take her eyes off him, even for a second. “W-what do you want?” He blocked the only exit, which forced her back into the room to put distance between them, making her a sitting duck.

  “You were supposed to be gone.”

  Payton didn’t recognize his voice. “And you’re not supposed to be here.” She picked up Libby’s small desk lamp, clutching it with trembling fingers. “Get out!”

  He lifted his fisted hands. “Right after I take care of you.” He lunged over the desk, holding his fists high, aiming right at her head.

  Payton blocked his first punch with Libby’s lamp, then matching him swipe for swipe, blow for blow. “Help!” she called out repeatedly, wondering where her illustrious security detail was when she needed it. Considering the size of him, how long could she hold him off alone?

  She rounded the desk. He lifted his fists again, using both hands to deliver a punch that would surely land her in a coma. She kicked high for his balls, yet he caught her blow by crushing her foot between his thighs.

  His fist came down, slamming the top of her collarbone. A rush of pain penetrated Payton’s shoulder but adrenalin charged her. She rolled quickly beneath her assailant.

  When she pressed her forearms together and clasped her hands, weaving her fingers, she delivered a fierce uppercut beneath his chin with her elbows. Losing his balance, he stumbled over the fallen printer.

  Pain shot through her arms, which didn’t deter her from reaching for Libby’s favorite Etruscan chair and swinging it into his stomach. It didn’t faze him the same as the uppercut had, and he kicked it aside and reached behind his belt.

  What if he had a gun? She backed away, moving through the door like a rocket wearing stiletto heels. She spun a few times, her knees going strangely numb, but she kept her head low and stopped screaming. He may have all the deadly tools, was stronger and certainly more agile, but Payton wanted to live. So that had to count for something.

  She bolted down the corridor, aiming for the front door.

  Suddenly, his fist collided with her temple, landing a searing pain she couldn’t ignore. She clutched the side of her face. Surely, her flesh had separated layer by layer, and then blood poured on her fingertips. “No! No! No!” Payton heard her voice cry out, but it sounded far away from her ears.

  Her vision went in and out right before she hit the floor. No matter how she tried, her body refused to obey what her mind willed — to escape the lunatic. He spun her over, kneeling with his knee on her chest.

  Crying out in pain, she pleaded for her life, “P-please, no!”

  Through the opening of his mask, he bared his teeth and grabbed her chin forcefully with his fingers. Strangely enough, he kissed her tenderly on her lips, making a rough sound in the back of his throat. “S-stop,” she demanded against his mouth.

  “You were always such a tease.” Dropping her head, he drew back his hand and smacked the exact temple he’d slammed with his fist.

  Payton gasped at the fresh wave of agony, her vision flickering in and out, staying darker at longer intervals, until she drifted quickly to a dreamy place free of pain.

  Chapter 5

  “Hold still, Pay, please.”

  “N-noah?” Her ear pressed to his chest, she could hear his thundering heart and smell his familiarly reassuring scent. “Where a-am I?”

  Gingerly, he ran his fingertips down her nose, her cheeks, and up her temple. She flinched and he swore a blue streak. “You’re in the main gallery.” Lifting her on his lap, he asked, “How do you feel?”

  “Rough.”

  He slid his index finger across the seam of her lips. “Open up so I can count your teeth.” She complied, tasting his salty fingertip as he probed each tooth, wiggling them and checking the undersides for chips. “All there.” He wrapped a warm hand around her nape, massaging. “Any neck pain?”

  “Not really, but my head hurts.”

  “Let’s get you in the light, then.” He stood up, carrying her entire weight with him. “You might need a doctor.”

  “Noah, put me down,” she argued. “I’m too heavy.”

  “How emasculating, next you’ll tell me I can’t piss while standing.” He carried her through the corridor leading outside, stopping to thrust a key in the lock to secure the gallery. He kept her high in his arms until they reached a bench beneath a pole light in the children’s outdoor gallery. After Noah eased her on the slats, she winced when her elbows touched the wood.

  “What’s hurting other than your head?” He lifted her chin, working his eyes over her temple.

  “Elbows.” She raised them, and his mouth dropped open.

  “What the hell, Pay?” His furious glare jumped to her throat, then to the left. “You have a glowing golf ball sized lump on your collarbone. Might be broken.”

  “B-broken?”

  “How much did you drink, and why did that asshole leave you alone in your condition?”

  “Drink? I sipped two drinks, but after that everything is fuzzy.” She stared at the dried blood on her fingers, trying to piece the night’s events chronologically seemed impossible. “Can you help me upstairs to the loft?”

  “I’m helping you to the hospital.” His fingers flew over his phone screen.

  “No hospital, it will turn into a media circus.” She glanced around, looking for the ominous black SUVs but couldn’t find a one. In the distance, she spotted a small sedan. Usually the paparazzi traveled in smaller vehicles, even motorcycles, so she didn’t find the vehicle attention worthy.

  Noah pressed his phone against his ear. “Yeah, Lib, she must’ve fallen flat on her face. Sure am, I’ll need to take your Porsche. In the shape she’s in, there’s no way she’s riding on the back of my Harley. No, no, I’ve got her. Just stay at Stephen’s as you planned.” With his other hand, he fiddled with his keys. “Yeah, I’ve got it your backup fob on my ring. Text you in a bit.”

  She waved him off, when he made to lift her. “I need to walk.”

  “You act as though I’m going to sprain a shoulder carrying you.” Carefully, he wrapped his arm around her waist, allowing her to lean onto him. “Even with bumps and bruises, your body is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. Just watching you dance tonight teased me.”

  A shard of memory pierced her mind. A stranger’s heated voice saying, ‘You were always such a tease’. Her steps faltered, her hand cupping her throat as the night unfolded in her mind, the scenes in rolling succession.

  “Pay, what is it?” Noah pulled her tight against him. “You’ve scared me enough tonight. Tell me what’s happening.”

  “A man did this!” Payton gasped, her eyes flying in all directions, wondering if he was still lurking. Turning to the faraway sedan, she tried to make out the driver.

  “A man?” Noah growled, gently cupping her face. “Explain!”

  “Oh.” Her legs started buckling. “Hurry! Take me to the car,” she pleaded, while gripping his forearms and willing the strength of his body, his unfailing legs, to carry them to Libby’s Porsche quickly. “I’ll describe everything I remember.”

  Dylan tossed his jacket on his passenger’s seat and a whiff of Payton’s delicate scent brushed his nose. Oh, how he ached for her! He longed for her beneath him, connecting to him in the most primitive way possible, where he would push his way in her body, in her soul until she could feel nothing but peace and pleasure. He ground his molars against the gnawing pulsation in his cock, the stabbing in his heart. “Yeah, Michael, I’m hearing you.”

  His leg started cramping, and he glanced at his watch. With a shake of his head, he realized he’d sat in his Bugatti for two flipping hours, searching his connections for his former live-in lover Caroline Roslyn, since she refused to make it easy on him by answering her damned phone. He hated using his head of security for such a banal task, which demeaned both of them, but discretion was the name of this game. “See if Caroline is still in Sarasota.” He opened his door, stepping into his private parking gara
ge at The Easton Hotel. “I won’t rest until I talk to her, so make it happen by morning,” he demanded, ending the call.

  After sliding his card key through the panel, he rubbed his eyes, wondering why they were heavy and burning. To his surprise, his fingertips came back damp. He stepped into the elevator in utter shock, wondering when was the last time he cried over a woman? Surely, he’d been a kid the last time, right? What was Payton doing to him? Instead of going up to his lonesome penthouse, he punched G and lowered the elevator car to the ground floor.

  As the doors swooped open, he walked an exclusive corridor leading to Tower Amore, where two things dawned on him at once: Firstly, the last time he cried over a woman was the fateful night Helen died. Secondly, he was completely and madly in love with Payton Calloway. That revelation was staggering, although he’d truly wanted to marry her the night they’d touched intimately inside Hytel Plume, still, Dylan wondered how he had fallen so…instantly?

  With hasty introspection, he searched for any semblance of truth in Payton’s claim, that he was replacing her with Caroline, and he came up with nothing. Payton was Payton and he wanted no other. If she only knew how far off the mark she was, Payton would understand how different she was than Helen. Despite the color of their hair, two women couldn’t be farther apart.

  So how was he going to fix this mess?

  Either Payton had probed into his past or Caroline graciously tipped her off. What better revenge could be had for a woman scorned? He’d tried apologizing to Caroline countless times for their relationship not working out, but she’d refused to listen. He’d even offered her the multi-million dollar penthouse they’d shared briefly as a parting gift, but Caroline had refused to accept. Not that she needed money, coming from wealth herself, but it was the best gesture he could think of on short notice. Until he talked to her, Dylan was left wondering if Caroline had pierced Payton with vengeful hooks. Caroline wouldn’t be the first woman to get nutty after he’d moved on to another.

  Finding the secretive key on his ring, he unlocked the elevator leading to Level 69. After the elevator doors closed, a side panel opened and he walked inside another world. He sucked air between his teeth, closing his eyes briefly. He was miserable, lonely, and thoroughly devastated.

  Right on cue, another dose of misery latched onto him, in the shape of a former mistress. “No,” he growled, removing her seeking fingernails from his arm. In comparison to Payton, another woman’s touch left him cold.

  She asked, “Why not? You’re here and your fiancée is not.”

  What had he ever seen in Marla Fallcioni? Dylan barely held back the urge to say that she looked ridiculous puffing out her overinflated lips. “For starters, I’m not interested, so my other reasons aren't necessary to recite.” He walked away, waving off a server’s offer of whiskey, but Marla stayed fast on his heels.

  “If I’d known you wanted marriage,” she shouted at his ear as they entered the main corridor where bodies pressed bodies in time with blasting music, “I would have never agreed on becoming your mistress in the first place.”

  “Hindsight can sneak up on you like that.” He shrugged off her touch, catching the growing scent of musky sex. “But if you’re thinking I would have proposed to a mistress who slept with my employees during the day and came beneath me at night under the guise of fidelity, stop deluding yourself.”

  “Obviously, your wife-to-be isn’t doing a thing for you or you wouldn’t be here,” Marla sang in her patented baby voice.

  “Don’t be a bitch.”

  Julian stood beneath the main archway of his Opera House, Level 69’s main showcase for exhibitionists and voyeurs. He descended ten curved steps, glanced dismissively at Marla, and cupped Dylan’s shoulder. “I hope you’re here to see me.”

  Meaning Julian sincerely wanted him to stay with Payton instead of partaking in a sexual feast. Was Dylan’s love for her written all over his face? “If you’d answered your damn phone, I wouldn’t have had to hunt you down.”

  Julian nodded toward a side door painted black to match the corridor wall. He slipped a card key through the slot and ushered Dylan inside an exclusive wing serving high-rolling dominants with boundless bank accounts and their personal subs they adored or subs-in-training provided by Julian. On any given night, the cream of modern-day aristocrats met in each of the unique rooms. Often celebrities sneaked in to participate or watched from behind mirrored walls. They satisfied their fantasies without the media getting wind of their baser needs, since Julian ran a tight ship, never tolerating any indiscretions made by members and keeping security tight. And if anyone touched a sub in a less than respectful fashion, Julian took it upon himself personally to teach all offenders a hard, unforgettable lesson. Afterwards, their keys were permanently revoked.

  As they made their way down the wide hallway, many windows were open, inviting those exclusive members to watch. Dylan had no desire to glance anyone’s way as he passed, but he nearly stumbled when he passed the last window. He stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that Stellan Hudson?”

  “He’s as skilled with intricate suspension as he is his guitar.” Julian laughed low. “When his tour is on break, he vacations here among my best subs.”

  He opened a door revealing an empty room complete with rows and rows of the good stuff, shiny new toys and benches in all Dylan’s favorite positions.

  “I would love to bring Payton and Avery here, just the three of us playing throughout the night.” He leaned against a contoured spanking bench and flicked his eyes around the room. “Well, minus the wood stocks…Of course, I have this thing for Payton’s toes.”

  “So the ankle stocks would keep her still enough for you to lick them as long as you want.”

  Dylan shook his head. “It’ll never happen.”

  Julian eyed him speculatively for a few heartbeats. “Is your Payton still hiding from you and Avery? Your relationship would be intense for someone so young and innocent. You said she was a virgin, yes?”

  “She wasn’t hiding as we’d earlier thought.” Dylan scrubbed his face with his hands. “She, ah, found out about Helen and-”

  “No need to explain.” Julian stepped forward, putting a reassuring hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “After we first saw Payton, I think all of us must have thought what she currently suspects, that you were using her to rekindle the past. And although I’m certain her startling similarity to Helen first attracted both of you to her, I know you, and it would have taken far more than physical attraction to make you propose marriage.”

  “The paparazzi were screaming at her outside Hytel Plume, implying Payton was using her body to negotiate over the firehouse situation.”

  Julian waved a dismissive hand. “This is me you’re talking to, and I know better. You’ve never chased after a woman in your life, and you wanted her legally bound to you.”

  “I can’t seem to make her understand how I feel without coming on too strong for her,” Dylan growled.

  “How exactly do you feel?”

  Dylan wasn’t used to saying the words. “I love her.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you…I guess.”

  “Are you really coming on too strong for her?” Julian probed.

  “Your nature is your nature, though you would never hurt her, Payton Calloway needs to accept you for who you are.” Julian picked up a paddle, swiveling it in his palm. “How can you change so much in order to please her, without denying yourself in the process?”

  “It’s not only me, Julian.” He walked a circle around the room, nosing through drawers, lifting a narrow two-pronged dildo that would work perfectly for Payton’s inexperienced body. “Avery hasn’t truly claimed a woman since Helen, and I’ve never seen him want anyone as much as he wants Payton.”

  That gave Julian pause. “He’s still jacking off?”

  “Yep.” Avery’s sexual roadblock set Dylan’s teeth on edge.

  “Everything below Avery’s belt
’s operational, so far as I can tell. He thinks he looks like a freak, so that’s the way he acts between the sheets.”

  “None of your mistresses ever saw him completely naked?”

  “Not a one,” he explained, “yet they obeyed every command out of his mouth. Avery got his sexual fulfillment from controlling them, and then he blindfolded them in order to masturbate. Or we’d digitally record me fucking them and he’d use it to get off wherever, whenever.”

  Julian was too polite to say what he really thought, so instead he offered, “I don’t know Payton that well, but I read most women nearly perfectly. I don’t see her as anything close to the women you two chose as mistresses. So if he’s able, Avery should claim Payton as the man he is or risk losing her.”

  Dylan’s fist came down on a table, knocking assorted spreader bars to the floor. He wasn’t used to this disconcertion. “I’ve never been this helpless, not in years, and I don’t appreciate the sensation centering the woman I love.”