by Olivia Ryann
Monster closes the door behind the girl, turning to introduce himself.
“I’m Arsen,” he says, not bothering to extend his hand to her. I catch my breath; this is the first time he has identified himself as anything other than Monster in front of me. “And this is Fiore.”
I extend my hand to the girl careful not to catch Damen’s eye. “It is very nice to meet you…”
She jumps in. “Bianka. Pleased to meet you. I imagine you already know Damen?”
I grit my teeth, willing myself not to bare them. “Yes, we’ve met.”
Monster snakes his arm out and pulls me close. I avert my face, heat blooming in my cheeks. I can see Bianka trying to make a connection between Damen and me, but I just keep my mouth shut.
Monster clears his throat. “Damen’s going to play nice. Isn’t that right, brother?”
Damen looks to Bianka. “I’ve got other things on my mind. Right, Bianka?”
She smiles. “Yes, daddy. That’s right.”
Damen leans in and kisses her, which makes me shudder. And she just lets him… hell, I think she actually likes it.
“I need a drink,” Damen says, not breaking the eye contact he’s making with Bianka. “And then I need to dance with my girl.”
I have never worked so hard to repress an eye roll before. Monster looks at him speculatively.
“We’ll talk later,” he says. He looks down at me. “I have things to attend to, but don’t leave town without talking to me, Damen.”
If Damen responds, I don’t hear it over the sudden blare of music as Monster opens the door again. We head back out onto the dance floor.
I pull Monster to a halt, going up on my tiptoes and pressing my mouth to his ear. “I want to leave.”
Monster considers that his eyes scanning my face my face for a long moment. “All right.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise, but he just turns and makes his way through the crowd, gripping my hand. We discard our masks as we step out of the noisy club.
“Come on,” he says, guiding my shoulders as we head away from the entrance. “The car is over this way.”
It starts raining suddenly, that heavy New Orleans kind of rain. Icy wet drops, already beginning to fill the gutters as we dash to the SUV, soaking my hair and my heavy ballgown. I slide inside the door that Monster holds open for me, grinning.
When Monster climbs in, he snakes his arm around my waist. “Take us to a hotel. I want to be catered to tonight.” He looks at me, his eyes glinting with a new kind of mischief. “How do you feel about ordering room service so late at night?”
Biting my lip, I lean close to whisper in his ear. “How late do you think they’ll be open? I want waffles… after I work up an appetite. Any ideas on how I’m going to do that?”
He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I can think of a few. I can tie you up. Truss you and fuck you?”
My eyes widen a little. He runs his fingertips down my arm, then up to toy with my collar. He considers me as I shiver with pleasure. “Mmm, or maybe I can dominate you in other ways? We haven’t tried breath play yet…”
His fingers slide around my throat, a teasing imitation. My breath catches in my throat. I stare up at him, watching his steel grey eyes.
He smirks, drawing his fingertips down my collarbones, to my neckline. He traces the expanse of skin he finds there. “I think you’d like that too much. Would you do that with me? Maybe I could watch your touch yourself first?”
I am too excited and nervous to speak my mind in front of the driver, so I just nod. He leans down, catching my chin, and places the lightest kiss on my lips. I sigh, sinking into it, opening my mouth to his invasion. More than that, I welcome it. Beg him for it.
Demand it.
His mouth tastes sweet, his tongue finding mine. He makes a noise as he grips my arm, holding me down a bit. Dominating me with his touch and his kiss.
We pull up outside the St. Pierre hotel, a little place on the edge of the French Quarter. Inside the rather boring beige facade is a heart of gold; everything I see from the second I walk into the lobby is gold, or a mirror reflecting some gold surface.
The room is sorted very quickly, once Monster throws a wad of hundred-dollar bills onto the counter in front of the front desk person. Before I know it, we’re being let into the presidential suite on the top floor. It’s much classier and more subtle here than in the lobby. It’s rather modern, with an elegant black bed frame taking up one whole wall on one side and a set of gray couches on the other wall. Between them, a spotless white rug stretches across the hardwood floors.
The second the door begins closing behind him, Monster picks me up, his mouth descending to cover mine. He moves across the room. Staring up into his eyes, I am on fire for him.
I need him, need him to dominate me and make me feel like only he can. I giggle when he deposits me on the bed, my skirts flying everywhere.
“You laugh now,” he intones, stepping back to strip off his coat. “But we’ll see who’s laughing when you’re bent over my lap, being spanked. I know that you’ll like it. I know that it’ll get you wet, but you won’t be laughing at me anymore.”
My mouth drops open, my eyes widening. “You wouldn’t.”
He grins wickedly and begins rolling up his sleeves. “Oh, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to you, princess.”
That nickname only comes out of his mouth when I’m about to do something dirty. At the sound of it, my core tightens. Everything is suddenly sensitive; the brush of the fabric at my neckline against my breasts, the feel of the satin of my panties against the crinolines under my skirts.
The chill of the white gold collar at my throat. My fingers come up to touch it as I nervously lick my lips.
Monster considers me for a moment, taking off his shoes and socks. “Turn around. Let me help you take off that dress. You won’t be needing it anymore.”
My heart in my throat, I shake my head. “No.”
His brows shoot up. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
Feeling bold, I repeat myself. “I said no. What are you going to do about it?”
He lunges forward, I let out a scream as he grabs me by the ankles. I kick and thrash as he pulls me to the edge of the bed, turning my body over.
“No!” I protest, continuing to struggle as he throws my skirts up, baring my white lace panties. “Monster…”
He grabs me by the hips, raising them while pushing my head down. “You talk too much. Did anybody ever tell you that, princess?”
When he uses that nickname again, I grimace, pressing my thighs together. As if that was enough to stop me from making a damp spot in my panties.
I gasp as Monster grasps my panties, yanking them down around my knees.
“Mmmm, what a pretty little pussy you have,” he murmurs, drawing his fingers across the back of my thighs. My core tightens as I grip the comforter.
He nudges my legs apart, spreading my pussy further for his viewing pleasure. Then he grips my hip, raising his hand. It lands with a startling smack on my ass cheek, stinging a little. I’ve no doubt that the impression of his hand is still there in scarlet.
“It’s nice, how your ass wobbles when I teach you your lessons,” he muses.
Then, without warning, he hits me again. Smack!
My fists bunch in the blankets. I can feel my juices start to drip from my pussy onto my thighs. I’m not sure why, but I fucking love every second of what he does to me. What he’s doing to me now.
Smack! Smack! He hits me again and again. I find myself loving that bite of pain, leaning into it as I clamp my eyes and my mouth shut.
I almost come off the bed when he finally touches my pussy with two fingertips, seeking out my aching clit. Fuck, that’s so good.
“Ahh!” I cry, pressing my face into the mattress. I moan needily for more.
Monster unzips his pants and pushes the blunt head of his cock against my throbbing pussy. I groan and push back against him. He thrusts inside,
filling me up like no one else can.
No one will ever give so much pleasure as this man does, I swear.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and rams himself into my body, again and again, being as brutal as possible. And I love it.
I live for it.
He knows my body all too well, knows from the way my pussy clenches him that I am almost there. Almost…
“Fucking play with your clit,” he grits, hammering my body roughly. “Get yourself off, you little slut.”
I slide my hand up and touch my clit. A few strokes is all it takes, and then I am spasming around his cock, screaming into the comforter.
“Fuck!” he whispers, his voice gone to gravel. “You’re going to make me come.”
A few seconds later he tenses then slams into me, his voice hoarse as he bellows his release. He withdraws and sinks down onto the bed next to me, his eyes closing.
I scoot a little closer, and his arm comes up, automatically sliding around my shoulders. We lay like that for a long time, our breathing ragged.
13
Fiore
In the early hours before dawn, I am sick. I wake up with my stomach in a tumult, vomit rising in the back of my throat before I even open my eyes. Plastering my hands over my mouth and running to the bathroom, I barely make it to the toilet before I retch up all the waffles from last night. I kneel before the toilet, tears streaming down my face, and silently gag for twenty minutes.
Afterward, I feel headachy and lightheaded, so I just sit by the toilet for a long while. It’s cold on the floor. I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing, not since Monster stripped me of it earlier. All I have is the collar, and that won’t keep me warm. I pull a towel off the counter, sitting on it.
I’m not sure what made me sick. I’m usually not sensitive to anything. It must have been the waffles, although how you make waffles bad is beyond me.
When I finally get up and rinse my mouth in the sink, I hear Monster’s faint call from the other room. “Are you alright?”
I pad out of the bathroom, giving him a sheepish look. “I’m fine. I think something was weird with the waffles I ate, that’s all.”
Monster pulls back the covers, making a space for me. I settle back on the bed, comfortable in his arms. Soon the warmth makes me drowsy enough that I close my eyes, drifting off.
I open my eyes again to find myself staring at Monster’s place in bed. It’s dawn, or almost… the faint light in poking slits in the curtains that Monster drew close over the windows. I sit up with a yawn, looking for him. I find him at the desk, staring down at the phone in his hands.
He looks worried. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Monster look worried before this moment.
He glances up, seeing that I’m awake in the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t move, just keeps looking at me. The frown lines bracketing his mouth deepen.
“What?” I ask, tousling my hair. “What is it?”
“That was Damen, just now. He said that our house…” He stops and swallows. “He said that our house is gone.”
My jaw drops. “What… what do you mean, gone?”
I’ve heard of houses disappearing in the hurricanes, but not in this weather we’re having tonight. It might’ve rained for all of twenty minutes earlier, but now it’s promising to be a beautiful late fall day.
I’m honestly not even sure that I heard him right.
He clears his throat. “He said that there was a fire. Not a naturally occurring one; he meant someone started a fire that demolished the house. It’s just… gone.”
My hand comes up to my throat, feeling for my collar. “I… I don’t know what to say. God, are the servants okay?”
His face wrinkles for a moment. Is he worrying about them, or wondering why I’m even saying anything? With Monster, it’s impossible to tell. “I don’t know.”
“We should check on them. We should see the house,” I say. A thought occurs to me and I look to Monster, horrified. “Thank god that Cerberus is still at that training camp you insisted he go to.”
I feel winded like I just can’t quite get my breath. When I imagine that great old house being nothing but a pile of smoking rubble, I want to cry.
“Hmm,” he says, looking out the window. “The club we were at last night, The Balconnet?”
I look at him expectantly. “Yes?”
“There was a mass shooting there, too.”
My eyes go wide. “So… this fire…”
He finishes my thought. “It wasn’t an accident, no.”
I feel the same kind of queasiness that I felt this morning. The same bitter bile, backing up into my throat. I collapse backward in the bed, feeling strangely hollow.
“People are after us,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “How does that happen, exactly?”
When he doesn’t answer after a minute, I turn my head and open my eyes. Monster looks pensive, gazing out the window. His dark hair is slightly flattened on one side, his normally dewy and dusky complexion has gone a bit pale. He has dark circles rimming both eyes.
He looks human, I suddenly realize. He looks worried. That means we have something to be afraid of.
“Monster,” I say, calling his attention away from the window. He looks over at me, his grey eyes serious.
“What?”
He sounds a little lost, although there is an undertone of anger there too.
I start to cry. I can’t help it. “What are we going to do? Where are we going to hide?”
He sighs, getting up and coming to sit beside me. “Look at me. Look at me, okay? That is not for you to worry about. You’re going to be safe and well cared for, no matter what.”
I don’t like how distant he makes that sound. As if I will be cared for after he’s murdered. Pushing myself up, I throw myself in his arms, hiccuping and sobbing.
“No! I just found you. Don’t say that I will be taken care of… tell me that we will be okay.” It sounds hysterical, probably because it is. “Promise me!”
His hands descend on my back, comforting me.
“I can’t tell you what I’m not certain about myself,” he says quietly.
My hands tighten into fists and I pound them into his chest. “You have to promise me. You don’t understand!”
His hands are soothing on my back, smoothing back and forth in a rough arc. “What don’t I understand, Fiore?”
I gulp. The words are out of my mouth before I even think about what they truly mean. “I love you, damn it. I can’t lose you!”
Monster freezes for a long second, then his hands start rubbing my back again. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re upset.”
I push off of him, willing him to see the truth that is written plain on my face. “I’m upset, but that doesn’t change anything. I still love you.”
His expression is just short of incredulous. “You can’t.”
“I can!” I say, my jaw squaring. “I do. I may be young, but I know my own mind. I love you, Monster.”
He pulls away from me, getting up to walk to the window. His face is grave. “I hope you don’t expect me to say it back to you.”
I recoil just a little, stung by his words. “No. I don’t.”
But a little part of me is angry that he doesn’t. Am I the only one who feels this way when we’re together?
That’s a fact that I had not considered. It certainly weighs on me now.
“We’re getting off track,” he says blearily, wiping his hand over his face. “I have to focus on the house being burned down and the shooting at the club. I don’t have time for this… this… whatever this is.”
He’s so damned dismissive, but he’s also sort of right. I’m definitely not done talking about the issue, but there are other more immediate concerns at the moment.
I wipe my face with the sheet, sitting up. “Let’s make a checklist. Or a list of priorities.”
Monster turns his head a little to look at me. “Yeah?”
I slide out of bed, p
ulling the sheets off and tucking the ends around myself to make a toga. “It’s what my mother used to do when a situation was overwhelming. Make a list, then start ticking things off. Do you know where you want to start?”
“Mmm.” He considers that. “Well… I guess I’d start by getting all my bodyguards here. Then I’d dispatch a couple to do reconnaissance on the house, find out if the servants made it out or not. If they did, I’ll need to track them down, because they might know something helpful.” He shrugs. “That part is easy enough.”
“What’s next on the list?” I ask, grabbing the comforter and pulling it over my shoulders for warmth.
He sighs. “We have to assume that this is motivated by my business. Who would be upset that I’m about to close the deal here in New Orleans?”
I frown. “I don’t know. A rival gang, maybe?”
Monster slides me a curious look. “Yeah, maybe. Somebody that isn’t getting a cut, I guess. Maybe one of the factions that were forced out of New Orleans when I took over.”
“Makes sense to me,” I say with a shrug.
His expression grows conflicted. “I don’t think you’re going to like this, but I am going to have to go out.”
“Like hell you are!” I utter sharply. “What, are you going to lead the murderers away from me? What if they’re after me, and you leave me alone?”
Alright, that isn’t my real concern, but it’s real enough to get my point across. I can see the war of emotions as they play out on his face.
“Fiore, this is very serious. Dangerous, if you get down to it.”
“And what isn’t, exactly? Because if you’d left me to sleep alone tonight, I would have probably died in that house fire.”
He flinches at that. There is some satisfaction in knowing that even if he doesn’t feel the same way that I do, he doesn’t welcome the idea of my demise. It may be pathetic, but I’ll take any little scrap of good news right now.
“It’s hard to know what to do,” he says at last. He hangs his head. “Just tell me what to do.”