To spoil her chances. Or maybe not. “Listen, I’m not sure what I am to Ian, but I’m definitely not his one-and-only. So, be my guest. Go for it.”
“Oh, I will.” She smirks. “I don’t give up easily.”
“Good for you,” I say with a chuckle as I down what’s left of my beer.
She climbs to her feet. “Don’t say I didn’t play fair and give you ample warning.”
Like I care. But I do. I hate that I do. Even more determined now to forget, I go to the bar and order another beer.
“Put my drinks on Ian’s tab,” I tell the barman with some glee.
“For you?” He gives me a wide smile. “On the house.”
“You should charge Ian double,” I say as I take my drink and make my way back to the table.
After my fourth glass, my head is spinning. Belatedly, I remember I forgot to take my pills. Someone kindly brings me a glass of water, and someone else puts a plate of grilled vegetables and corn on the cob in front of me. I eat to line my stomach and chuck back the pills with the water before joining the girls on the dancefloor again. We’re stamping out the rhythm of the music, cheered on by the boys. It would’ve been a lot of fun if I didn’t feel like crying.
With all the beer I drank, my bladder is full. When the women go to the bushes where everyone relieves themselves, I follow. We’re laughing as we make our way back, but close to the bar, the laughter dies down. I look around for the reason.
Shit.
My laughter dries up too.
Ian leans on the pillar of the awning, looking as pissed off as hell.
Chapter 12
Ian
When that delectable woman enters my line of vision, I relax considerably. Banga is getting a bonus for tipping me off. Her friends notice me first. They approach with caution, probably from the look on my face. Cas finally spots me. Her reaction is the same as that of her friends. Damn right. Coming out alone at night is no laughing matter.
Instead of coming over, she goes to a table and downs the dreg of a beer. Her gaze is defiant as she holds mine. Of course it is.
As she’s making it clear that she’s not going to come to me, I push off the pillar and walk to her. Her pretty blue eyes are spitting fire, throwing me back to the first night I saw her at the casino. In hindsight, that fire and sassy attitude attracted me more than her angelic face and centerfold body.
She lifts her chin when I stop in front of her. Her tone is full of bitterness and sarcasm. “Did you have fun?”
“Are you?”
She cocks a hip. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Fun’s over, baby doll.”
I turn in silent instruction for her to follow, but her, “No,” finds my back.
Pausing, I look at her. “What did you say to me?”
“You can’t go out and do whatever the hell you please and leave me grounded here like some fucking teenager.”
“Grounded?” I have a good mind to ground her now.
“Or do you get to have five wives?” she asks with a taunting smile.
Whoa. Where is this coming from? What’s with the anger? If anyone should be angry, it’s me. It’s been a long night, and I’ve left our meeting early to haul her ass home.
My patience snaps. She shrieks when I fold my arms around the back of her knees and throw her over my shoulder. Wolf whistles and clapping follow us from the bar and across the street.
She slams her fists on my back, hammering my kidneys and injured shoulder. “Put me down.”
“Stop making a scene.”
My words seem to fuel her anger. She redoubles her efforts, actually getting a punch in on my wound that hurts.
I nod at Banga who’s sitting in the parked Jeep, a command to drive back, and lower my obstinate package into the passenger seat of the Hummer. She fights me as I strap her safety belt. I’m seriously starting to consider tying her up.
“Want me to tie your hands and feet?” I ask, voicing my threat. “As your punishment, I may just decide to leave you tied up the whole damn night.”
She stills, but she doesn’t hold back the insults. “You’re a brute.”
Damn right. She has no idea.
I get behind the wheel and drive us home in brooding silence. Banga continues to the main building to park the Jeep. I stop at my bungalow.
Before I can grab my rifle, she’s already out of the vehicle and stomping to the room. She doesn’t wait for me to go inside and make sure it’s safe. I catch up with her by the bed, pushing her aside to do a quick evaluation. Despite all the precautions of doorstoppers and mosquito screens, reptiles do sometimes get in. Scorpions have a cunning way of crawling through the drainpipes and surfacing in the shower, and snakes have a way of wiggling through the thatch.
Only when I’ve checked under the bed and behind the furniture do I lock the rifle in the closet lest she gets the idea of shooting me with my own gun. I wouldn’t put it past her.
She’s watching me from the side of the bed, her arms crossed. Her cheeks are flushed with a mixture of too much sun and anger. I want to strip her from those baggy jeans and hiking shoes and whip her ass before covering her in punishing kisses, but what I have to say is more important.
“You’re never to go out at night on your own again.” I tower over her, intimidating her with my size. I need this message to sink in. “Is that clear?”
“Sexist much?” She cocks her hip. “I don’t care for your double standards.”
“Dammit, Cas. It’s not safe. You won’t risk your life again.”
“But you go out whenever and to wherever you please.”
“I’m a big man and I have a weapon to defend myself.”
She lifts her chin another inch. “Then give me a gun.”
We’re not back to talking about trust again. “Do you even know how to shoot one?”
She narrows her pretty eyes. “Better than you.”
I suppress a smile. “That’s a big statement.”
“Give me one and I’ll prove it.”
“No.” The idea of her with a gun in her small hand makes the blood in my veins run cold.
“Scared I’ll win?”
“It’s not about winning. It’s about safety.”
She laughs. “If you expect me to sit here like a good girl and say prayers or read poems while you go fucking around, you’ve got another think coming.”
“Where’s this coming from?” I try to take her hand, but she steps out of my reach.
“Don’t touch me,” she says through thin lips.
My frustration mounts. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She balls her hands at her sides. “If you get to fuck around, so do I.”
The mere idea sends me into a rage. “What gave you that idea that I’m fucking around?”
“You went out with your brother and buddy to get laid,” she says, her plump lips curling around to get laid with disgust.
Ah. The lightbulb goes on. I can see how she’d assume that. I didn’t tell her where I was going because I couldn’t. I don’t want her involved in my shady business. Yet I involved her the minute I dragged her into my life. She’s part of it now whether I like it or not. I can’t compartmentalize my life and put her in a safe box on a glass shelf. I decided to keep her without being prepared to make her a part of every aspect of my life. That’s neither my nor her modus operandi. We’re both all-or-nothing people. Despite all the bullshit he’s spewed, Ruben was right about one thing. She’s not that kind of woman. She’s not going to sit here and look pretty for me. Neither do I want her to.
Tears well up in her eyes when my silence stretches for a second too long. “I hope you enjoyed our last fuck, because you won’t touch me again.”
“Cas, baby doll, I didn’t fuck anyone else.”
“If you put your hands on another woman you can keep her. I’m not your plaything.”
“I didn’t look at or touch another woman.”
Her expression turns uncertai
n. “How can I believe you?”
She’s tipsy and hurt, but I don’t let her escape any longer. I cup her head with one hand and thread the silky strands of her hair through the other. “Why would I do that when everything I want is right here?”
A sob catches in her throat. She says in a hoarse whisper, “Because I didn’t tell you I wanted to be exclusive.”
I drag her to my chest. “You don’t have to say it. We are.”
She fights me to pull away. “If that’s true, why did you want me to ask for it?”
“I wanted you to admit what you wanted to help you accept it quicker.”
“Accept what?”
“That I’m never letting you go.” This has nothing to do with the fact that she’s my prisoner. I mean this in a totally different way. Lowering my head, I brush my lips over the soft spot behind her ear and whisper, “You’re mine. You have been from the moment I saw you, and you will be until I blow out my last breath. Nothing is going to change that.” Just because I love the sound of it, I repeat, “You’re mine.”
The fight leaves her. She agrees by snaking her arms around my neck. The gesture is sweeter than any words. The way she leans her weight against me gives me every answer I could ever want from her.
The handbag that’s slung across her chest digs into my stomach. Gently, I remove it, taking care not to catch her hair on the buckle of the strap.
Sniffing, she asks, “What time is it?”
I check my watch. “Just after one. Why?”
“Just wanted to know. Habit, I guess.”
“Time for bed. You need to sleep off all the alcohol in your system.”
“I only had four beers.”
“Those beers are strong.” Reluctantly, I push her away to help her undress. “Next time, tell me if you want to go out. I’ll take you.”
“Why?” She lifts her arms when I yank on the hem of her tank top.
“So that I can look after you while you lose control.”
“We can both have fun.”
I let the T-shirt drop to the floor. Fuck me. She’s wearing the see-through red bra with the black lace trimming. On the store shelf, it looked tacky in the slutty kind of way most men find sexy, but on her body it’s as hot as hell. I barely manage to tear my gaze away from the hard tips of her nipples visible through the hazy red voile.
“You bet your life we’ll both have fun,” I say in a hoarse voice.
She unbuttons her jeans. “Where have you been anyway?”
I crouch down at her feet to untie her laces. “Business.”
“Doing what?” She sways a little. “Robbing a bank?”
That makes me grin. “Changing cash into electronic currency.”
She grabs my shoulder for support and lifts a foot so I can pull off her shoe. “What did you steal?”
“A painting.” I let the other shoe drop and straighten to pull the jeans over her thighs.
“Don’t you have enough by now?”
I still. The red thong with the black trimming barely covers the triangle between her legs. She looks like a classy model in trashy underwear, and it makes me stone-hard. I shouldn’t take her while she’s tipsy, but my morals are shady at best.
Giving her shoulder a little nudge, I make her fall down onto the edge of the bed. I drag the jeans over her feet, pull off her socks, and finally she’s just how I want her—dressed in a translucent bra and thong.
My voice cracks, lust seeping in. “Spread your legs.”
She opens her thighs and lets me watch.
I reciprocate by letting her watch while I undress. She does so greedily, taking in every action and lingering on my cock that stands on attention and leaks precum.
Showtime is over. “On your hands and knees.”
She turns around and climbs onto her knees. My cock jerks when I move to the edge of the bed. I trace the elastic of the thong with a finger, starting at one hip and following it over top of her ass to the other. The lace ruffles under the pad of my finger. She shivers. I caress the string that runs through her crack, pausing to tease her rosebud asshole before dragging my finger over her covered slit. Her wetness soaks the voile. Hooking a finger under the string, I move it aside and get a prime view of her tight pussy. When I sink into her, I won’t be able to stop. I know that, but the need driving me is too fierce to pause for a condom.
I grip the base of my cock and squeeze to alleviate some of the pressure before dragging the crest over her slit. At the first contact with her skin, I already feel like exploding. I have an uncontrollable urge to impale her and take everything in one go, but I lubricate the head with her arousal and inch forward just enough to split her open.
She moans and leans back, urging me to take what I want. Instead, I close my fingers around the soft flesh of her hip and force myself to enter her slowly so I can enjoy every inch as I sink deeper. I don’t stop until there’s nothing left between us, and then I slam our groins together, fucking her around the thin string of her thong.
In the reflection of the mirror on the wall, I have a prime view of how her breasts sway in the red bra. The sight makes me clench my teeth in an effort to hold back. The straps of the bra cut a little into her skin, the black a stark contrast against her perfect white. I let go of her hip to move the strap over her shoulder. The thin red welt the strap has left is both disturbing and erotic. It’s disturbing to see her skin marked, even by something so trivial, and erotic because I want to leave deeper marks inside her.
I never take dick pics or record make-outs on my phone. I’m a stickler for privacy, knowing how easy it is to hack into just about anything. However, I now regret not recording this, because I’d come to the image of fucking Cas through her thong on sight alone.
When pressure builds in my balls, I pull the triangle of fabric aside and slip a hand around her hip and between her thighs. The nub between her legs is wet and swollen. I rub the button the way she likes, using two fingers pressed together to massage in circles. She comes in seconds, her inner muscles locking around my cock and milking like a hot, tight, velvet fist.
Release tightens my balls. For a second, I hesitate, but I promised myself I’d play Russian roulette only once. Right before the moment of no return, I pull out. Jets of cum erupt on her back. I come over her ass and her thighs, letting it drip down her crease and run over her pussy. She’s such a dirty little slut on her knees, covered in red voile and cum, and I love and revere the fuck out of her. Only I can turn her into my dirty plaything. Only I have the right to paint her with my cum. Nobody but I get to degrade and respect her. Nobody but I get to love her.
She collapses onto her stomach with her face turned to the side, watching me with her big blue eyes like the pretty doll she is. She gave her body to me freely on the first night, and I knew she’d give it to me again. What I didn’t know was if she’d let me keep her, but she’s not trying to run away. She’s not going anywhere as I step out of the room and get a wet facecloth and towel from the bathroom.
She’s still on her stomach when I get back, lying there like the most beautiful portrait with my cum on her skin. I clean her up with the facecloth and dry her with the towel, but I don’t remove the underwear. I want to enjoy the fantasy a little longer. I drag her against me, fold my arms around her body, and kiss her in a backward way of lovemaking.
I can eat her lips all night, but she pulls away and says after dragging in some air, “I want my own gun.”
“No.”
“How am I supposed to move around freely if you won’t let me drive anywhere without a gun?”
“You’re not getting your own gun. Anyway, you first have to prove to me you know how to use one.”
She scoffs. “Told you, I shoot better than you.”
I tug a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m a damn good shot. You don’t want to take me on. You’ll only lose.”
A challenge sparks in her eyes. “You’re on.”
“You sure that’s how you want to play
?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, but you’re not getting your own gun.”
“Fine, but if I win, I get a prize.”
She can get anything out of me. She doesn’t even have to try very hard. I don’t tell her that though. It’s enough that I’m letting her be a part of every ugly facet of my life. She doesn’t need to also know she holds all the power.
Chapter 13
Cas
A headache splits my skull in two when I wake up. It’s early, but Ian is already gone. Considerately, he’s left headache tablets with my heart pills.
The sheet falls away when I sit up to drink the medicine, revealing the black and red underwear. A hot flush creeps over my cheeks when I think about last night and what we did. Our sex had been downright dirty. Perfect. I’ve never had sex with a man like Ian. He makes our dirty feel right. Special. I’ve never felt so revered or sated. This morning is different because I know he won’t look at someone else. He told me I’m the one-and-only, and with those magic words he took all the hurt from last night away, leaving me light and relieved.
Happy.
I’m his, but he’s just as much mine.
After a shower, the pills kick in, and the headache lifts. I dress and call to the lodge to ask for someone to fetch me. Banga answers.
“Hi, Banga. Can you please come get me?”
He clears his throat. “Ian said you should have breakfast in the room. Shona is busy now, but she’ll bring it over in a while.”
Inwardly, I groan. We’re not back to that, are we? I thought we made progress last night. “Ian doesn’t tell me what to do.”
“Cas.” He sounds panicked. “Please don’t be difficult. Ian won’t like it.”
“What he won’t like is if I walk over there unescorted.”
“Don’t put me in that position.”
Shona’s voice comes from the background. “You heard her. She wants to come here. Go get her.”
He blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m on my way.”
Stolen Life Page 12
