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by Suzanne Steele


  Oh shit. Not sure if this is a good thing.

  She picked at her fingernails as he stood over her looking down on her while he removed his cufflinks, Rolex, and then his shirt. The natural bronze color of his skin accented his massive chest. One corner of his mouth slightly curved in a mocking manner when he noted her chewing on her bottom lip. He always knew when she was checking him out. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see when she went into a trance staring at him like he was a Greek god.

  His moves were deliberate as he made his way over to the dresser and placed the cufflinks and watch on it. He neatly folded the shirt, placing it to the side. She watched as he removed the rest of his clothing, covering his nude body in nothing but a pair of drawstring pants. Why does he have to look so damn good?

  He walked back over, standing in front of her. She wondered if he was purposely drawing out the moment. Anticipation was a funny thing when it was mixed with the right amount of fear.

  “I want to do things to you, Lydia. My mind doesn’t work like most men’s when it comes to my sexual preferences. My tastes are exclusive, singular in nature. The things that turn a normal man on aren’t the things that turn me on.” A slight tremble made its way through her when he took a lock of her hair fingering it. “You had to know I enjoyed caging you, kidnapping you, blackmailing you. I enjoy making a woman do things she’d never do with another man. I enjoy making a woman do things she never imagined she would do. I enjoy taking a woman and turning her into a very dirty girl in the bedroom. The nastier the better. I enjoy it when she resists me. I enjoy it when she struggles and I have to overpower her. To put it simply, I enjoying taking a woman in every sense of the word. When a man is turned on by those types things he has to be very careful about choosing his sexual partners. I may decide to do anything, anywhere to you. The only thing I won’t subject you to is someone else touching you or even viewing your body. You belong to me now, and I’ve already seen the rage I feel when anyone gets near you. I’m not safe when it comes to you. My lifestyle preferences aren’t new to me. The feelings I have for you are. Don’t fuck around and get someone killed playing with me. I’m not humored concerning things that have to do with you.”

  “Dominic… if you’re asking for consent, I think my body has already given you that. Do whatever it is you think you need to do.” She tilted her head up at him in a defiant manner.

  “Things can get very intense in these kinds of relationships. There has to be trust. If things ever get too intense you need a word—a safeword.”

  “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

  She smiled when he roared laughing. She’d never seen him laugh liked that before, and it felt good to know she made him do it. She knew he wasn’t the type who was humored by much.

  “You’re nuts. I’ve finally met someone who is crazier than me.” In a microsecond, his facial expression changed from humored to austere. “Get your ass over on that bed.”

  When she attempted to unzip her dress, he leaped from where he stood and jerked her head back by a handful of her hair. “Did I tell you to get undressed?”

  “No.”

  “Did I tell you to speak?”

  He was scaring the shit out of her and she was feeding off the adrenalin rush of it. It was the reason she stole, lied, dressed up, and conned men out of everything she could—the drug that was always there for her—adrenaline. It never let her down and she didn’t need a dealer to cop. It was the one thing she could always depend on—until Dominic. Now… she could depend on his obsession for her.

  He pushed her onto the bed and she backed away scrambling into the headboard. A predatory grin, followed by what he said, gave testimony to the fact he was enjoying this already. “Go ahead… run. I fucking dare you.”

  She contemplated her odds of beating him to the bathroom. The odds weren’t good. She was beginning realize she enjoyed pushing boundaries with Dominic. It shouldn’t surprise her. She pushed them everywhere else.

  He never took his eyes off of her as he reached into the nightstand and grabbed a knife. There’d be no running now.

  “I think it would be in your best interest to lay down. Spread eagle. Arms over your head and out to the side. Spread those long ass legs of yours as wide as you can. Good girl. It’s nice to see we have a good line of communication. Now for the fun stuff.”

  He straddled her body, sitting on top of her with his legs bent at the knees on each side of her. He taunted her, grinding his rock hard cock into her pelvis. She glared at him, giving an exaggerated swivel of her hips beneath him.

  “I knew you were perfect after all those months of stalking you. I just happened upon you one day. I was sitting at a light and you came out of the library. I copied your license plate and the rest is history. When I started digging up all of your dirty little secrets, I knew I had to have you. You like to push boundaries. You’re the type who will never use your safe word because you need danger.”

  She watched his eyes gloss over with lust as he took the tip of the blade and ran it down her collarbone. She flinched.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that. I keep this blade very sharp. I tend to run it over a stone when I get in pensive moods. It’s my hunting knife. As you already know, I don’t hunt animals. I hunt people. There’s nothing like it once you’ve experienced it. Hunting a human who can think, reason, and possibly outwit you takes the thrill to a whole different level. Hunting you is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. You’ve got your hooks in me, girl.”

  “You hunt me now. Only me.” Now, she was the one daring him to defy her.

  “You’re the only person I hunt sexually. I hunt people to kill. I hunt them to torture, to maim, to interrogate. I’d like to interrogate you one day. No waterboarding for you, though. The terror in a man’s eyes when you’re drowning him is like nothing else. Well, I take that back. The guy I blow torched was terrified.”

  Suddenly, in one swift hand movement, he sliced through the dress she was wearing.

  “Damn it, Dominic! I liked this dress.”

  “I’ll buy you another one—in every color.”

  “Only the best for arm candy.”

  He ignored her, slicing through the rest of her clothing but leaving her panties, thigh highs, and shoes on. She jumped, causing him to chuckle when he tossed the knife over and it landed on the nightstand with a thud.

  He slipped his fingers beneath the sides of the G-string she was wearing.

  “If you remember anything I’ve told you, remember I’m a man of my word. I don’t make idle threats, baby girl.” She jumped when he ripped the panties off. “Open your mouth.” When she resisted he squeezed the sides of her cheeks so hard it forced it open.

  “If you spit them out, I’m going to spank that little ass just like I told you I would. It will hurt. I hope you spit them out.”

  She glared at him, rapidly shaking her head back and forth in defiance.

  “You and I fit like a hand in a glove, you little brat. You’re just what I need. The fire in you will feed the longing in me. Fire and gasoline, babe, that’s you and me. I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. I want to savor that faint, musky scent you get right before your pussy starts twitching for me. I want to taste your come on my tongue as I lap your orgasm up and drink you down like a fine wine.”

  He positioned his head between her legs, forcing her knees back, and slowly ran his flattened tongue up her slit.

  “You are so fucking kinky and you don’t even know it. There’s no way I’m ever letting you go. Your pussy is dripping for me.

  He slipped a finger in her flicking his tongue over her clit until her hips were bucking and she was right at the point of coming. Then he stopped. Garbled noises came from behind the gag and he knew she was pissed.

  “Tsk, tsk. That’s quite the temper you have. Calm down, you little hell cat, It’s called edging.”

  He laughed when she growled at him through the gag.

  Over and over he brought her to
the point of climaxing, only to stop, leaving her in anguish. It was only until the pleading reached her eyes that he let her climax. The orgasm was so violent he had to lock her hips down with his hands, forcing her to take every electrifying jolt of pleasure that surged through her body. She would never be the same, not after this, not after him.

  “Get those fucking legs back by your ears!”

  She willingly pinned them back, holding herself open so he could penetrate every inch of her core. If she could have opened her body up and let him climb down into her soul she would have. It was the first time in her life she’d ever felt complete—like she wasn’t broken. She didn’t understand how a killer could fix what was broken in her. She needed to be needed, to be obsessed over, and he gave her that. Until then, she hadn’t realized why no man had ever satisfied her. Her needs went too deep, far beyond the physical.

  He fucked her like he owned her, and he did. They’d done too much together. Now they were bound by another man’s blood. They both had his blood on their hands. It would be a secret they would take to their graves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She waited until she knew he was in a deep sleep to ease out of the bed. It didn’t matter how bound by blood they were, she wanted to know why. No, she needed to know why he’d killed that man.

  It had been gnawing at her since she met him: what was his job and why did he do it? She knew instinctively that he wasn’t just a killer, hitman, assassin, whatever term you wanted to use for it. There was more to him than just the killing. From what she had pieced together so far, he did jobs for gangsters. The question was: why did he pick and choose the jobs?

  He knew everything about her and she knew nothing about him. Maybe finding out who the guy was on this last job would give her some insight into the man who had gone from tall, dark and dangerous to tall, dark and deadly.

  She grabbed the briefcase from the floor and tiptoed into the huge office that was next to the bedroom. She liked the way the office was connected to the bedroom. Cool idea, kind of like a high dollar penthouse. One thing was for sure: the guy had class in his surroundings as well as his taste in clothing.

  She winced when she popped the buttons on the briefcase and they made a clicking noise. She leaned around the corner enough to see he was still asleep, and when she was satisfied he hadn’t heard anything, she went back to work.

  She booted up the computer, expecting it to have a password. She was relieved when it didn’t. She didn’t know enough about the guy to go through the normal mental files she went through to crack into things that were none of her business.

  She took a minute to go through his suitcase. She worked her fingers around the bottom. They moved with the precision of a woman who knew exactly what she was looking for—a false bottom. When she lifted it and found it full of cash, she felt that familiar shot of adrenaline and fear, but this time it was mixed with a shot of victory. She grabbed three stacks of the bills, turned and grabbed two more, and tiptoed to the closet where she hid it in one of her hat boxes on a shelf.

  A quick look over her shoulder ensured he was still asleep. Must have been a good fuck for you too, buddy. I’ll have to remember that in the future when I want to go through your stuff.

  She grabbed a flash drive she’d seen from the suitcase and popped it in. A child actor’s portfolio popped up. Different pictures of her in beauty contests and professional head shots filled the screen.

  She flipped through those and looked at some different ones. She came across some with her mother. The resemblance was uncanny. The only difference was the air of being a cold, stuck-up bitch that the woman in the photo possessed. The pious look on her face made Lydia’s stomach turn. Maybe I’m projecting my own Mommy Dearest issues on this poor woman. Then… she came across photos of the man at the bar with the little girl. Oh my God. She felt like she was going to have a panic attack. Was what she was thinking true? Did that bitch of a mother do what her mother had done: turn a blind eye?

  She jumped up from the chair and bolted towards the bathroom and heaved in the toilet. All those years spent ducking and dodging the drunks her mother brought home had done a number on her. She’d avoided their groping hands but she never got over the fact her mother turned a blind eye. You abandoned me, you bitch! What if that little girl didn’t survive like I did? Bile rose in her throat and once again she threw up.

  It wasn’t until she felt his hands holding her hair back that she knew he was there.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that. It’s why I killed him. He’ll never hurt another little girl again.” He picked her up, holding her in his arms while she sobbed. “Damn you. You’re making me fall in love with you.” It was out, before he could stop it.

  He ushered her over to the sink to help her brush her teeth and clean her face off. Then he carried her back to bed and held her, stroking her hair until she fell back asleep.

  Day by day, hour by hour, and minute by minute they were bonding—whether they wanted to or not.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He’d had women, countless women, but this was different. As soon as he dug up the secrets of her past he’d known they would work well together. The more he’d found out about her the more intrigue sucked him into her story. There was so much more to her than what met the eye, and he wanted to know every last detail. She took cunning to a whole new level—she was smart. He’d never seen a woman who could reach into a man’s front jacket pocket and remove his wallet without him knowing. It was the single hardest place to get to unnoticed. It took agility—speed—a bump—a smile—and hands that moved as light as they did swift. It was like she had tentacles that could reach into the darkest corners of the unknown. What he hadn’t counted on was her wrapping those tentacles around his heart and squeezing out every bit of reasoning his mind held.

  He was a man accustomed to thinking with his head, not his cock, and never his heart. He placed his finger on her juggler and another one on his—he had to know. It was true. Their hearts were beating in the same exact timing.

  By the time he was finished training her, they would know what the other was thinking before they spoke a word. If they didn’t already.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “I’m sure I will. I did fine with you and you’re a killer.”

  He eased up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his body. Though his voice was barely above a whisper, there was something threatening about the tone.

  “I’m so much more than just a killer. You limit my abilities.”

  She turned so quickly she almost bumped noses with him.

  “Details, please.”

  “I’m a Renaissance man. I level the playing field. I take jobs for people who can’t do what needs to be done—just like that little girl. That son of a bitch was a pedophile. He deserved what he got.”

  “You won’t get any arguments from me. You killed him, but if her mother is allowing her to be subjected to men like that, nothing will change.”

  “You let me deal with her mother.”

  “No! If I’m going to work with you”—

  “You have to have complete honesty.”

  “Full disclosure is what I refer to it as. By the way, you scare me with that whole finishing my sentences thing.”

  “Good. Your pussy loves it.”

  She wiggled from his grasp. “This or this? She held up two dresses, one black and one teal with a plunging backline.”

  “It’s a formal, so black is always appropriate.”

  “Teal it is,” she announced. He scrunched his brow in confusion. His eyes studied her with a need to know intensity.

  “Everybody is going to be wearing black. I don’t want to be like everyone else there. Standing out from the pack”—she wiggled her eyebrows teasingly—“it’s my trademark.”

  “Since you’re running with the wolves now, I want to brand you with mine.


  “Brand me? And what’s your brand Mr. Renaissance Man?”

  “My name, of course.”

  “Nope. That’s bad luck. Couples always break up after they do that.”

  “Oh. So we’re a couple now?”

  “Yeah. A couple of killers. Forced to stay together because we know too much about each other to separate.”

  “Fine… property of Renaissance Man it is.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Thank you. Are you going to wear the hat in that box?” He pointed to the box that held the money she’d hidden.

  “You know.”

  “Damn straight I do.”

  Once again those black eyes of his had gone from humored to ominous orbs that held the promise of trouble if this conversation didn’t go well.

  “I have no intention of allowing you to leave me. I will use whatever means necessary to keep an eye on you. I’m having a tracker put on you—or rather in you. This”—he reached into the formal tux jacket he was wearing and pulled out a phone—“is your new phone. It also has a tracker on it. I’ve sold your car and there’s a new SUV being sent tomorrow.”

  “And it has a tracker on it,” she finished for him.

  “You catch on quick. You could have asked me for the fifty thousand dollars. You helped do the job. You deserved to be paid. When you steal from me, it does nothing to put my mind at ease. Do you know why, Lydia?”

  “It makes you think I’ll leave.”

  “And yet you stole from me. You lied too.”

  “How could I have lied? The subject never came up.”

  “Deception is a form of lying. Let’s get one thing straight: I get that it’s in your nature to steal. I get that it gives you a high that nothing else does. But this”—he pointed his finger back and forth between them—“what we have, what we’re doing, leaves no room for mistakes. How can I watch your back if I don’t even know what you’re doing? How can I kill and interrogate with you if I can’t trust you? You don’t want me hiding shit from you, so don’t hide it from me.”

 

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