by Lynn Burke
Panting, my mind in a vortex of need, I lifted my eyelids and fought to focus on his face.
Jaw clenched tight, he peered down at me. Sweat glistened on his tensed shoulders, and I realized he fought for control.
“I can take it,” I whispered, that feeling of being in control rushing through me. “Give it to me.”
He shoved in fully, arching my back off the bed.
“Adrian!”
He grasped my thighs. “Sorry, baby,” he growled, his control snapping, hips thrusting in and out. “Gonna tear this ass apart—fill you with my cum.”
Relaxing wasn’t an option as he plowed into me over and over, but I found I needed more, the mixing of slight pain and absolute torturous pleasure every rough thrust spiraled through me, throwing me towards oblivion.
Adrian slid two fingers inside my pussy, his thumb on my clit—and I came with a shriek, wetness rushing from me, my pussy pulsing, my entire body convulsing in my restraints.
“Yeah … fuck.” His fingers worked me fast, rubbing deep inside me as he shoved deep into my ass, my cum squirting over his hand and cock. “Squeeze my dick, pussy cat, take it all.”
He grunted and slammed in deep, his cock swelling. Wet heat shot inside me, his cock jerking, every slight thrust of his hips as erratic as his grunts and groans.
I went lax before he did, gasping for breath, my lips dry as fuck, every muscle in my body trembling.
Good and truly wrecked.
Best. Feeling. Ever.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Devil
Dasia lay lax and pliant as I cut her free and carried her into the bathroom where I’d gotten the shower going. I held her tight against my front as she melted against me, her cheek on my chest, her arms in a light hold around my waist.
We stood sideways beneath the spray, the water hitting the back of her head and my right side. A shuddering sigh—at least the fifth since I’d fucked her ass—escaped her lips.
I hadn’t checked in with her nearly as much as was probably appropriate, but the lack of tension on her face the entire time I’d trussed her up let me know all I needed to.
Dasia trusted me. And she definitely got off on being tied up. I hadn’t planned on taking her ass, but with her spread open like a goddamn buffet, her pussy red from our fucking earlier in the day, and that untried rosebud...
She hadn’t tapped out at one probing finger. Her pussy had oozed cream as I added a second, and the haze of lust in her eyes when I’d stretched her with three...
My kinky little pussy cat. She’d taken it all, every goddamn inch of me into her tight body.
“Goddamn, you’re something else,” I groaned, squeezing her tight. “You okay?”
“Fuck, yeah.” A light laugh shook her in my arms, and she tipped her head back. Flushed face. Strands of red hair plastered to her cheek from the shower’s spray. Eyes bright yet satiated.
“So, do you still think getting tied up is sick?” I had to ask, my own lips curling upwards.
“No. It’s hot as fuck.” She leaned up, and I lowered my head, giving her my mouth. “I want to do it again,” she said against my lips before sliding her tongue between them.
Goddamn, this woman...
I pulled her up into my arms, and she wrapped her legs around me.
Never enough.
Fucking never.
****
For three days, we stayed holed up in our room, only going downstairs to shove food in our faces before escaping back upstairs. Without rings in the ceiling like I had plans to install at home, I couldn’t string Dasia up, but we made do. I wrapped her with decorative patterns, that when taken off, the rope left gorgeous as fuck indents in her pale skin.
I tied her tight, immobile, legs spread or sometimes pressed tight together but pussy and asshole available for the taking. She’d had a taste of my dick up her ass, and she fucking loved it. My kinky, little pussy cat couldn’t get enough.
Twice, Ricky pounded on our door telling us to calm the fuck down and shut the hell up so he could sleep.
I felt for the guy, but not enough I invited him to join in like we’d done a time or two with club whores.
Nope. Dasia was all mine—her lush body, her quick mind, and her soft heart. She’d claimed to be broken, but she was goddamn perfect in every way.
Perfect for me.
We were perfect for each other.
My cell rang, dragging my exhausted ass out of sleep. Morning light hinted around the blinds as I grabbed my phone off the bed stand, knocking the bottle of lube beside it onto the floor.
I recognized the lawyer’s number, but didn’t answer in time.
Laying on my back, still grasping my cell, I waited for the ding of the voicemail to sound.
Dasia peered at me through sleepy eyes—fucking beautiful without a stitch of makeup.
I leaned over and kissed her lips. “Morning.”
“Mmm.”
My cell dinged, and I pulled up the voicemail transcript.
“What is it?” Dasia asked, propping up onto her elbow.
“Deposition is scheduled in three days.”
“For the priest?”
“Yeah.” I tossed my cell aside, for the first time ever excited to meet with a lawyer for something legal. “Gonna bury his ass.” I pushed my girl onto her back, both of us laughing, and within seconds, buried myself deep in her wet heat.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dasia
Adrian was gone most of the day to give his deposition down in Boston, so to combat boredom, I started cleaning. It began in the kitchen when I went down for coffee after he left and found a mess left from the brothers who’d partied the night before—too loud, the damn men kept me awake long into the night.
Adrian and I had found things to combat the sleeplessness, though, mainly me tied spread eagle like a buffet, and oh, how he had feasted.
Sully and two other bleary-eyed brothers sat at the kitchen’s table nursing mugs when I walked in.
“Morning,” Sully muttered into his cup, lacking the usual jollity in his voice I was used to.
“Hey.” I grabbed a mug and poured what they’d left while the other dirty blond-headed guys who looked like brothers grumbled a greeting.
I made a second pot while sipping the dregs from the first pot. My stomach rumbled, so I started opening cabinets to see what I could find. They didn’t offer much.
Pulling open the fridge revealed a box of leftover pizza with Greed’s name scribbled in black marker across the top. The “Property of” had me snickering.
These men and their claiming.
It was kinda hot—I wouldn’t argue. I’d noticed a few of the old ladies had that very thing tattooed on their skin along with their man’s name. I grew warm thinking about having Devil’s name inked on me. With his love of my ass, I knew I’d get a nice script along my lower back for him to stare at while he pounded me from behind.
Warmth grew between my thighs, and grumbling internally about his not being back to the club for a few hours at least, I pulled out a dozen eggs that sat alongside the pizza box.
“You boys hungry?” I asked without turning, grabbing the tub of butter and a loaf of bread.
“Shit, yeah,” Sully muttered. “You gonna hook us up, Kitty?”
Kitty. I huffed a bit of laughter. “That gonna be my nickname?”
“Can’t call you pussy cat like Devil does,” Sully said. “So, Kitty it is. Better than DeeDee, too. Sexier.” He chuckled.
Well. I grinned while dragging out a pan and spatula. I have a nickname. Warmth of a different sort flooded through me, a feeling of belonging, that feeling of what I expected family must be like.
Fifteen minutes later, we all held egg sandwiches—three with ketchup slathered inside, mine without.
I found myself snickering again as Sully and the other two moaned and groaned over every mouthful. You’d think they never had a home cooked meal even if it was a simple one.
I worked with Sully, a goofy Irishman with dark hair and equally dark eyes that twinkled even when his lips weren’t smirking. The other two, brothers by blood, I learned, Hammer and Crow, short for crowbar, had their own construction company. They’d built Adrian’s house a few years earlier and had been hanging since Vigil moved us in almost a week earlier.
While cleaning up after the boys, I considered Adrian’s home and wondered over what future we might have. I went from scrubbing dishes to wiping down the counters, and moved to cleaning out the fridge, my mind flying from one thing to the next, getting out restless energy.
I lived at the club for free, so why not do my part to help out?
Adrian had told me one of the club whores—not Tina—was paid to clean the place once a week, but she sure as shit didn’t do a good job. Once finished with the fridge and taking out the trash bag of moldy shit I’d found inside it, I stood, hands on hips, taking in the kitchen as a whole.
While the floor was a decent tile, a darker tint hinted at the most travelled areas. The cabinet faces had finger prints around the knobs and splatters across some of the lower ones. Add in the old beer spills, sticky beneath my slippers, and I couldn’t fucking stand it.
Lips in a thin line, I yanked open the cabinet doors beneath the sink and found what I needed—rubber gloves, a small bucket, rags, and a spray bottle of cleaner.
Two long as hell hours later, that fucking room sparkled and smelled fresh as a baby’s ass—a clean one.
Satisfied and smiling, I made my way back to the main area. The bar snagged my attention, but I’d had enough of wet scrubbing. The entire room needed a good dusting and sweeping.
Sully watched from one of the couches on the far wall, his dark eyes full of mirth. “If Devil doesn’t keep you, I’m available for the taking. Just sayin’.”
I smirked. “Where’s the vacuum?”
He pointed toward a door. Behind it sat a janitor’s closet of sorts, the shelves stocked with extra toilet paper, paper towels, and other cleaning supplies. I got to work while Sully, Hammer, and Crow bullshitted. Turned out, all three were my guards for the day, and another two sat out in the guard house watching over the security cameras Adrian and Warden had installed.
Hammer and Crow were more on the quiet side, both cute as hell with wide shoulders and greenish eyes, but they didn’t compare to my Devil.
Mine.
Yeah. I liked that thought. Maybe I could get him to tattoo “Property of Kitty” across his hard pecs.
Vigil, Pia, and Greed showed up with a pile of groceries not long after I started vacuuming, and Pia helped me clean while Vigil and Sully headed out to the shop to work. Vigil’s suggestion I spend the rest of my work day doing what I’d been doing all morning kept me put, rather than out in the shop I’d been ignoring since moving into the club, and also kept my mind occupied from missing Adrian too much. I ended up wiping down the baseboard and all the chairs and tables, disinfecting the stale cigarette scent from every surface possible while Pia made a huge pot of chili to simmer on the shiny stove top.
I took my sweaty ass to our room once finished, and stood beneath the hot spray, washing off the ick from my hours of work, missing Adrian like mad. We’d spent days on end without a break from one another, and I liked it. Maybe too much.
The bathroom door opened, and I welcomed my man into my arms, my world completely right again.
“How’d it go?” I asked as he tugged me tight against his chest, melting my body against his hard warmth.
He grinned, those sexy as hell lips curving to the point my stomach flipped full of butterflies. “That fucker is going down. They’ve got so much shit on him, he doesn’t stand a chance of paying his way out of it this time.”
I leaned up on my tiptoes and he met my mouth halfway, both of us greedy. With a groan, he yanked me up into his arms, and I settled my legs around his waist, the cold tile pressing against my back.
One thrust seated him deep inside me, settling my world entirely right. I’d found my forever home with Adrian, I just hoped nothing in our future would threaten it.
He grasped my ass cheeks and buried his face in my neck, teeth nipping over my sensitive skin while dragging his hard cock out of my clenching walls and shoving back in.
“Fucking perfect,” he growled against my neck, his fingers bruising my flesh, “Fucking missed you.”
“Missed you more,” I managed to gasp out between pants.
“Fuck, baby...” He ground his pelvis against me, and I fell apart in his arms, shaking and crying out with my climax. Two more grunts, and he came with me, his hot cum like a brand against my womb.
“Devil!” A fist pounded on the bathroom door, and I seized up with a quick shriek.
“The fuck, Ricky?” Adrian hollered, his face falling into a scowl.
“News just broke! Fucking take down of the goddamn century!”
Adrian caught my gaze, and we stared, both still gasping for breath and coming down from our climax high.
“Cut your fuck session short and get your ass downstairs!”
Adrian grinned and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Ready to go see if our plan worked?”
“He said takedown of the century.”
“I’m thinking freedom, pussy cat.” One more peck, and he backed out, leaving me dripping.
A quick scrub, and we tossed on clothes, hurrying downstairs to see what sort of future I had ahead of me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Devil
Ricky had the main room’s TV on NECN when we got downstairs, both of our hair still soaked. At least Dasia had wrapped hers up in a sexy as hell messy bun. Mine just plastered to my forehead, but I brushed it back, not giving two shits what it looked like.
The newscaster laid it all out—what they knew so far, anyway. Dozens of men had been taken into custody, some being named and labeled. The head of the Russian mob in New England. Fucking Martínez, the head of the Martínez cartel. They even had an image of him in handcuffs where he’d been nabbed at Logan Airport while coming in from South America on his private jet.
I fucking cheered at that one.
They showed clips from the harbor—and young women being led out of containers.
Dasia gasped and stepped closer toward the TV, and I followed after, wrapping my arms around her waist and setting my chin on her shoulder. She chewed on her lower lip.
“I don’t see her,” she whispered, lacing her fingers through mine and squeezing tight. “I don’t see her.”
Stacey. Shit.
The newscaster went onto something else, and I kissed Dasia’s cheek. “Be right back.” I sprinted upstairs, grabbed my laptop, and hurried back to my woman who stood right where I’d left her.
I pulled her along toward Vigil’s office, glancing at Ryker who had come over from the shop at the same time we’d gotten downstairs. He dipped his head at me, Pia tucked against his side, teary-eyed, although hope filled her smile.
They followed on our heels while the rest of the brothers hung in the main room, their focus still on the TV.
While the club as a whole didn’t know all the details, they knew the basics of what had happened to my girl and also knew we’d taken measures to see the fuckers behind bars. They just didn’t know the lawless extent I’d gone to ensure my pussy cat could walk around free from fear.
I booted up in my usual spot in front of Vigil’s desk, and set to work hacking into the security system I needed access to. Slipping in the back door was too damn easy, but same as always, I thanked the IT gods for idiots who didn’t know how to firewall against sneaky fucks like me.
“Dasia.” I motioned her over from the couch, patting my lap. She sat facing my screen, and I scrolled through files around her, recalling when the newscaster said the busts had begun. I clicked on the right timeline and started the feed, keeping it on fast forward until the action began.
FBI agents and SWAT teams swarmed the harbor, and I clicked through different camera feed
s, finding what I needed.
A few tweaks cleared up the grainy images enough the girls being led out into the light were clearer beyond what the media had managed to get their hands on.
Dasia leaned forward, her hands on Vigil’s desk as she studied each and every one.
“Stacey,” she breathed her friend’s name, her palm slamming over her mouth. A sob ripped from her lips.
I reached around her to pause the feed. “That her?”
Dasia nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Thank fuck,” Ryker muttered, and I glanced over to find him holding Pia in his arms. She, too, cried, fat tears slipping down her face.
Only time would tell what we’d truly managed to accomplish, but I held onto hope enough of the fuckers had been taken down that Dasia could live without fear for her life.
****
Vigil came into the club along with Warden and Stone, and we all sat around the club eating chili with shredded cheddar, chives, and sour cream, and homemade corn bread slathered in butter, while the TV continued with coverage on the confirmed sex slave operation take down.
Klingon called Vigil, letting him know over a dozen Vegas fuckers involved in the same mob had been taken into custody, bringing the total number to thirty-two.
Alexi Dvornikov, aka Ivan the sex slave ring leader, the fucker I wanted to end, had also been arrested along with his two goons, Dasia confirmed upon seeing their faces. The tears had given way to a healthy, happy glint in her eye, and she packed away the food for the first time since I’d met her.
She laughed. Joked. Her eyes sparkled with life, fucking beautiful, and my heart ached to tell her how much she had filled my life to the fucking brim.
I carried her upstairs before everyone else left for the night, Sully, Hammer, and Crow staying, too.
I set my girl on the edge of the bed and cradled her face while kneeling between her legs.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes welling even though the joy there stole my breath.