by Jane Henry
“Tell me. Tell me you’re daddy’s naughty little slut.”
I mewl a little in protest, but when he spanks me again, I breathe, “I’m daddy’s naughty little slut.”
In reward, he glides his fingers to my pussy and pumps hard and fast. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Daddy’s,” I moan, and he spanks me again, and again, his huge palm covering every inch of my bare ass. Then he drapes me over his lap and squeezes my ass cheeks.
“And whose ass is this?” he asks.
“Daddy’s,” I whisper, flushing red hot at the insinuation. Oh, God. I gasp when his thumb glides across my asshole.
“Who’s gonna give that ass to daddy to fuck?”
“Okay, now, wait a minute--ow!”
Another hard spank.
“Yours, daddy,” I finally say, not because I’m afraid of him but because I want him to do just that, to fuck me every which way he wants and can. Stefan is the master of my heart and master of my body, and nothing thrills me more than being fucked by him.
In minutes, he’s got me divested of my clothes, his own quickly discarded. He lays me onto the bed and I part my legs, my spanked ass aching on the silky sheets but making me impossibly wetter when he rolls on a condom. He glides his cock between my thighs, and in silence, with perfect, vicious, exquisite strokes of his cock between my legs, he fucks me.
He bends his mouth to mine and kisses me, pumping his cock in me in flawless rhythm, working me to ecstasy. This is unlike our lovemaking before. This is hot and hurried, but sweet and sensual, and I come with his lips still on my mouth, his own release on the heels of mine.
When we’re panting and satiated, he brings his mouth to my ear.
“Now do you remember?”
I grin. “Yes, daddy.”
We dress in amicable silence, though the shower together nearly delays us even further. I remind him Demyan and Larissa are likely waiting for us, and I get away with no more than a quick, teasing slap to my ass. When we make our way down to the dining room, we hear heated voices in a doorway to our right. I look at Stefan curiously, and he meets my gaze. It sounds like Demyan and Larissa.
“You know it’s the only way,” Larissa says. “None of our sources are on the inside of the trade. But if she could get in… and with her profile and coloring, she easily could… she could get us information no one else could.”
Stefan steps to the door, not one to eavesdrop. He clears his throat.
Demyan looks up and nods to him. “Hey. You two hungry?”
“Very,” I say, grateful for something to say, because I’m shaking with the knowledge of what she wants me to do, but more importantly, I’m shaking with the knowledge of what I must do. And I further know that I’ll have to fight Stefan tooth and nail.
We walk in silence to the dining room, and when we arrive, Stefan pulls out a chair for me. I sit and gratefully take a cup of coffee. After a simple breakfast of eggs and toast are served, Stefan clears his throat.
“We overheard part of your conversation,” he says. Demyan sighs, and Larissa nods.
“Did you?” she asks. “Which part?”
“You suggested ‘she’ go on the inside. I’m assuming you mean Taara?”
Larissa nods and Demyan growls low and angrily, but she ignores him. “As I was saying to Demyan, there are no other options here. We have men on the inside, but they’re not privy to the type of information she would be.” She shrugs.
“Yes, but the only problem is, no way will I allow that.”
“And what if I want to?” I interject. Stefan shoots me a murderous look, but I look away from him and speak to Demyan and Larissa.
“You have men on the inside, yes?” I ask. “Well, why couldn’t you have them prepared to defend me if anything went wrong?”
“Because it’s too dangerous,” Stefan says, but Larissa interrupts him.
“Not necessarily. You told us yourself last night that you were in danger of losing the entire American Bratva. And you have Taara here to prove that she’s loyal to you, no?”
“Yes, but—”
“And do you not trust that our men would protect her?”
“Larissa, enough.”
“Please,” I say. “I’m the one who’s safety is on the line. Don’t I have a say in this?”
None of them know that it isn’t just important to me that I find the information Stefan needs. I want to prove to Larissa, and, if I’m honest, to Caroline as well, that I am made of Bratva girl mettle.
Demyan and Stefan meet each other’s eyes, and Stefan finally nods.
“Go on.”
“I can defend myself if need be,” I tell him. “But I also want this chance to prove myself innocent once and for all. You might know that I am,” I tell Stefan. “But does your brotherhood?”
“No,” Stefan says staunchly. “I won’t allow it.” He squeezes my leg in warning, but I push his hand away. It doesn’t work, though, because he’s right back at my leg again and squeezing me even tighter and higher, and this time it works, because I know he means what he says.
“If you let me in on this, a few things can happen,” I explain. “I can get insider information no one else will know. I can prove that I’m not a threat to anyone. We can find who’s responsible for taking over America and end this.”
“Taara,” he growls.
“She has a point,” Demyan says, stroking his chin.
“The fuck she does,” Stefan growls. “You’d let Larissa go?”
Demyan grits his teeth and meets Larissa’s eyes. “Against my better judgment, but yes. I have let her work with us.”
“A true king’s ransom,” I say to Stefan on impulse, but it was maybe not the smartest thing to say because his eyes narrow dangerously.
“You are not my ransom,” he says. “Not at all.”
I place my hand on his leg. “But am I the king’s ransom?” My voice wavers as I hold his gaze. I need him to know he can trust me. I want to do this.
“Ty moye sokrovishche,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You are my treasure.”
I forget that we’re right there with Demyan and Larissa and that his men could likely see us. I forget everything, as I lean over and place my hand on his chest.
“Then let me help you. You will protect me.” I lift his hand off my leg and kiss his fingers to my mouth. “I trust you. Please.”
He curses under his breath, but finally, shaking his head, concedes. “We’re meeting with the rest of the brotherhood, no?” he asks Demyan.
“We are.”
“Let’s see what we can find out.”
But he’s already made the decision. He’s already decided.
We meet with the men, and it’s much like the meeting with Stefan’s own brotherhood, only this is a much smaller group. The inner circle, I surmise. They sit and stand, arms crossed, with grim expressions, as Demyan and Stefan relay the purpose of their meeting.
“Fucking Thieves,” one man growls. “Who was this woman in America who ordered you killed?”
“She commands some of them, but we aren’t sure who.”
They continue discussing options and a strategy, until Larissa brings up her proposition.
“She looks the part,” one of the men says. “Are you Afghani?”
I swallow hard. “I am. And I’m willing to do what it takes.”
“Can you play the part of frightened slave?” another asks. I tremble when I answer, because I know the part of frightened slave all too fucking well.
“I can.”
“They’ve captured half a dozen more women as of tonight,” one man says. “Bringing their current total to two dozen.”
“Do they count them?” Stefan asks, his expression grim.
“Yeah. We’ll have to take one and hide her.”
I stifle a groan. This is starting to make me a little nervous.
“Okay, okay, so… let me get this straight,” I say. “The new shipment comes in and I go in as one of them.
We somehow sneakily hide one, so they don’t mess up on the count. I find out what I can, and report back to you.”
“Christ,” Stefan says.
“You’ll have a comm device,” Larissa says. “Something in your ear if you need to talk to one of us.”
“And a weapon,” Stefan says grimly.
“That’s too dangerous,” one of the men says, but Stefan turns on him so furiously that the man slams his mouth shut and stops talking.
“Brother, he’s right,” Demyan says gently. “She can’t carry. Far too fucking dangerous.”
“Fine, then,” Stefan grits out. “I’m her weapon.” He stands to his full height, and all the men in the room look up to him. He’s taller than most, and with the silver in his beard and massive stature, he looks like a Viking God. Are they all looking at him adoringly, or is that just me?
“You be my weapon,” I say, tapping his arm. “I love that idea.”
Larissa catches my gaze with twinkling eyes.
“Son of a bitch,” Stefan grits out, but we manage to continue our plans despite his blustering and anger. It’s the only plan, and it has to work.
We finally get out of the meeting, and I’m taken with Larissa to get outfitted for my undercover job. Stefan follows, scowling at his phone. “Motherfucker,” he whispers.
“What?” I ask. “Everything okay?”
But he won’t meet my eyes. “It’s fine,” he says. Then to Larissa, “How much further?”
“Oh, just up ahead, Stefan,” she says, but he’s impatient and irritable. “We should get her there within the hour, so she can quickly amass with the others before any of the guards begin to recognize faces.
“Fine,” he snaps. Thankfully, she’s used to grumpy, bossy men, because she barely reacts at all.
“Here, Taara,” Larissa says. We made it to a storage room of sorts. She pulls out a white sheath from a pile in the closet. “You’ll have to wear this.” She can’t hide the way her lip turns down in disgust.
Stefan grabs it. “This? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Stefan, you agreed to this,” Larissa warns. “Can you please just try to get used to the idea?”
“No, I will not fucking get used to—”
I place my hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear. “Daddy. Please.” That softens the worry line at his brows, but he doesn’t speak. I know he’s concerned, but is there something else going on that I don’t know about?
I actually wonder for a moment if I mean to him what I hope I do. Or has this all been just a game he’s been playing? Gone is the tenderness I’ve come to expect, gone the gentle touch and soft words. I can still feel the residual effects of our lovemaking this morning, but it seems so long ago.
Stefan’s phone rings, and he scowls at it before he answers. His eyes come to me before he turns away, cursing.
What the hell?
“What is it?” I whisper. “Stefan?”
But he turns away from me and doesn’t answer. Larissa won’t meet my eyes when I look to her for answers, but instead helps me into the sheath.
“Come, Taara,” she says. “Let Stefan take the call.”
But my gut instinct says something is off. Is he hiding something from me?
I’d convinced myself that I mattered to him. That he cared. But now…
In minutes, I’m ready. Wearing the simple sheath with no makeup, no jewelry, it’s a stark reminder of my past and the women who’ve been in this position before me. I swallow hard, determined to give it my best. For me. For my mother. For every woman who’s been mistreated or abused. For Stefan and his brotherhood.
“How does she look?” Larissa asks him.
He only grunts in reply, then turns away, as if disgusted with me. My heart sinks. I hate this. God, I hate it so much.
“Stefan…” my voice trails off as I look to him for something, anything to give me reassurance that I still mean something to him. How could I have fallen in love with a man like him? Someone so brutally possessive and fierce, who can turn like this? He’s unpredictable, and that scares the hell out of me.
“She looks fine,” he says to Larissa, not meeting my eyes. His phone rings again, and he curses, taking the call and stalking out of the room.
Larissa must note my hurt, because she puts an arm around my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “He’s just concerned. Don’t think too much of it. He hates the idea of you being put into danger.”
But no. There’s more to it than that, and I know it. When we get into the hall, some of Demyan’s men, the ones who brought us to the compound the night before, wait for me.
“Abram is in place,” one of the men says to Stefan.
“He your mole?”
“Yes. He’ll help swap out your woman with the other.”
Your woman. As if. I want to roll my eyes and stomp my foot. I hate that I don’t know where I stand with him. Demyan enters the room and walks to Larissa. Without a word, he draws her to him and kisses her.
“All well, my love?”
“Yes,” she says, taking his hand. “She’s ready.”
Their brief gestures make me feel bereft without Stefan’s support. I want to know that he cares. His aloof attitude makes my heart ache. But I have a job to do.
I get into the car that waits, Demyan’s men joining me.
“I’m going, too,” Stefan says.
“Bad idea, brother,” Demyan warns. “If anyone sees you, you’ll draw suspicion.”
“I’ll make sure no one sees me.”
“And I don’t need his help anyway,” I interject. “I’m totally fine not having his help.” I don’t miss the way his eyes widen in surprise then narrow. He’s not happy with me at all.
“Like hell you are,” he says. “Are you out of your mind? I’m going.”
Demyan holds up his hands in resignation, and I huff out an angry breath. He slides in beside me and slams the door.
“Go,” he orders the driver, then he turns to me once we take off. “What the fuck was that about?”
“What?” I say, turning away from him. I don’t look at him, because a lump has risen in my throat and I don’t want to cry.
“What?” he repeats. Trees whiz by our windows as we speed toward the Thieves location. “What? The sudden ice show,” he says. “You’re freezing me out. Why? What the hell is your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem,” I say through gritted teeth. “Seems like you’re the one with the problem.”
Asshole.
“My problem is there isn’t enough space in the back of this car to haul you over my lap and spank the truth out of you,” he growls.
I roll my eyes. “Naturally.”
He grips my leg and squeezes it. “Taara, you talk to me.” But I don’t know what to tell him. I want his attention? I want some affection from him? I’m sick of wondering if I matter to him at all? I’m questioning why I ever let myself fall for him in the first place?
And even if everything was just peachy, where does this leave us? If we take down our rivals like we’re planning. How will his group ever welcome me as one of their own? I shake my head. There’s so much to say, that I don’t say anything at all. It pisses him off, but I’m almost beyond caring.
Almost. My heart aches. I long to lie my head on his chest and let him comfort me. To feel his arms about me and know that I matter to him. But the time has been too short, his actions toward me inconsistent. And I can’t take the whiplash.
“We’re here,” one of the men says. Thank God.
“Stay here,” the guy in front says over his shoulder.
“You wait until Abram gets you,” Demyan insists. “Do not get out of this car.”
I sigh and wait, until the door opens. “Come with me,” a man says.
“Are you Abram?”
He nods politely. “I am.”
He’s the one supposedly on the inside with the Thieves. “It’s lunchtime,” he explains in a hushed whisper. “Though it isn’t
the safest place, lunchtime makes it easier to avoid notice. The surveillance is a bit more lax. And the girls are hidden in the back, so it will be easy enough to swap you.” He sighs. “It’s dark in there.”
I nod. I can feel the other men surround us, though they quickly make themselves scarce in the woods surrounding the compound. They’re here for one reason only, to be sure to protect me.
Though it’s still daytime, it’s dark where he takes me. Devoid of both artificial and natural light, he has to shine a flashlight beam from his phone just to see where we’re going. The air is heavy with anticipation, the stench of body odor permeating the air. My stomach clenches with nausea. This is the place where they take the women they sell for auction. It should come as no surprise to me how disgusting it is.
“Stay there,” Abram says. He opens a gate that swings from a chain link fence.
Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. I keep my head down as I suppose a good slave should. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. But I catch the glimpse of silver, and when I look up, Stefan is standing only a few yards off. I wish it gave me the reassurance it once did.
There’s a scuffle and the sound of footsteps, then Abram’s standing before me. I blink in surprise when I recognize the girl from the slave ship in America, slave to her blond master. I open my mouth to say something, but Abram cuts me off. “Stay right here and do not make a sound,” he whispers. I watch in stunned silence as he takes the woman and brings her to Stefan. He reaches for her, and my heart squeezes when I see him pull her close to him.
Of course he does. He doesn’t love me. I don’t matter to him. He’s only taken care of me, like he will her, because it’s who he is, not because I’m anything to him.
No.
“Come,” Abram says, grabbing my hand and dragging me inside. I go blindly, my eyes are blurry with unshed tears.
Chapter 17
Stefan
Abram shoves the stolen woman into my arms before I can say a word. I look at him in surprise, and Taara stares at us just before Abram whisks her into the compound. She takes a piece of my heart with her. I can’t believe I agreed to this. I can’t fucking believe I did.
