by Celia Loren
“You sure?”
“Now, baby. Fuck me, Dominic.”
“I need you, Harper.”
“Fuck me.”
“I love you.”
He angles himself, the head of his cock piercing the opening of my throbbing, wet pussy.
“Jesus Christ, Harper. You’re so good.”
“Oh fuck, Dominic, yes!”
“God!”
He’s so big, and somehow he knows to thrust slowly and let me adjust. But he’s relentless and doesn’t stop his slow, sensual domination until he’s sheathed to the hilt. It feels like I’ve come apart already, the pressure and size of him immediately hinting at orgasm.
“Oh god, baby!”
I can feel him so deep inside, a place no one else has ever reached, and I can’t help but let out a primal shout of welcome. We’ve come home.
“You’re perfect,” he groans, holding still at his full thrust. “You’re mine.”
His fingers twine in my hair, holding me down. He’s in control, claiming me, and it feels so good to let him.
He stares down at me, beginning to rock slowly, and the pressure begins to sweeten and burn. We’re both moaning, staring into each other’s eyes. It’s thrilling, somehow, the way he’s watching me. Wonder is on his face.
“Harper, yes. Fuck yes! You’re mine, baby girl. So sweet.”
My palms spread along his chest, surrendering to his rhythm inside me. “God, I love you.”
He smiles, a full smile I’ve never seen before. “I love you too baby. God, you’re so tight. Yes. Yes, baby.”
He pulls half out and thrusts in, this time harder.
“Oh god!” I wail.
He does it again, faster. Harder.
“Oh my god, Dominic!”
“Yes!”
“Dominic!”
“Yeah baby.”
This is it: this is right. No one else, ever. Never again.
“Fuck yeah.”
He leans back, one hand on my hips and the other kneading my breast as he continues to thrust, in and out, sliding effortlessly in my wetness. He flicks my nipples with his thumb until they’re hard and tingling. That sensation along with his thrusts makes me hotter, driving me wild, and I feel a burst of wetness between my legs.
“Holy shit,” Dominic cries.
“Was that me?” I laugh, breathless.
“Yeah it was, baby, that was fucking amazing. Oh my god. Oh god!”
He’s riding me fast and hard, each thrust of his cock filling me to the brim. Harder. Faster. Wilder. Stars burst in my vision, everything burning a nuclear white as a searing hot climax rips through every nerve ending in my body.
“Yes!” I wail. “Oh god, yes!”
I feel myself throb and squeeze around Dominic’s cock, every muscle inside me contracting with a powerful orgasm. Every atom is on fire; all I can breathe is his name.
“Dominic!”
We’re locked together like an eternity knot: cock, pussy, ecstasy.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Oh baby, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”
“Cum baby.”
“Yes!”
His body stiffens and I feel another burst of warmth between my legs before Dominic collapses on top of me, his weight sinking me deep into heavy bliss. We’re a big, hot, sweaty heap of skin and stupid grins, our chests rising and falling together at the same rate of disbelief. I can’t catch my breath.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
“Holy fuck,” Dominic agrees.
“Holy everything.”
“Yeah. That was fucking holy, woman. This is holy.”
We just lay there, panting, for a while - maybe an hour, maybe a lifetime, maybe ten minutes. Time stops. Dominic is so heavy, so relaxed and warm on top of me. He buries his head in my breasts, nibbling at my sensitive skin until I jump and chuckle.
He glances up at my face and smiles lazily. “Did I tell you I love you?”
I laugh, overwhelmed. “Don’t stop telling me, ok?”
“Ok.” He traces his fingers down my cheek, until his eyes catch on the silver sheen of my necklace. “What’s this you’re always wearing?” He asks, turning the pendant over in his fingers.
“Oh.” My heart is thumping, and not just from the orgasm. I’m nervous, suddenly. I’m just not used to him loving me. To being safe. “Um, it’s…a swan.”
A frown flickers over his face, and his eyes lock onto mine.
“A swan?” He repeats. His eyes are so piercing my chest aches.
I swallow, wishing I didn’t feel like my heart was clamoring to claw out of my chest. “Yeah, a swan. Swan’s mate for life. Right?”
“Right.”
He isn’t making this any easier.
I prop myself up on an elbow, so that my face is level with his. “Swans mate for life, and so do I. You said that to me, remember? At the lake.”
He smiles. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”
“Of course I remembered. And then…well, I thought I’d never see you again. I knew, deep down, that I’d never love anybody else, so I had to show it somehow. I’ve worn a swan for ten years. I’ve kept you here, all this time.”
I take his hand and spread it over my chest, where I am sure he can feel my heart freaking out.
His face is so serious as he leans forward and kisses my lips softly. He pulls back, and stares at the necklace.
“For life,” he says slowly. “You and me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dominic
I wake up disoriented; hung over from the best sex and the best sleep I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life. In my dazed state, it takes a few minutes for it to sink in that this isn’t the Sons of Lucifer clubhouse. It’s the opposite of the clubhouse; everything is clean and bright and white, and oddly quiet. That’s right—I’m in Harper’s apartment.
In Harper’s bed.
Rolling over, I reach to wrap my arm around her but come up with an empty pillow instead. The crinkling sound of paper surprises my eyelids open.
It’s a note.
Holy shit! She’s gone, and she left a note. I sit bolt upright in bed, instantly awake, and read Harper’s sloping, neat cursive: I love you. Leaving you for work was the hardest thing ever. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. I love you. Let’s never spend another night apart. Love, Harper. P.S. I love you.
“Shit!”
I’m out of bed and in my pants in record time. How the fuck could she not wake me? Everything I’ve said and done over the course of the last few weeks has been an attempt to make her understand the stakes and the risks of what we’re into with Colt. How could she be so stubborn, so cavalier as to just wander off by herself?
Fuck.
“It’s not her fault, Dominic,” I scold myself. “You know she doesn’t get it. It’s your job to protect her. You failed your job. How could you fail your job?”
How could I be so stupid, to sleep through the morning? Now she’s out there by herself, with no one protecting her. Colt’s blackmail threat is hanging over our heads, the settlement isn’t settled, and I fucking sleep on my watch and let Harper wander out into danger without anyone guarding her. This is my fault. I’ve created an opening, a weakness.
And if I know Colt, he’ll smell it a mile away. Just like the last time, with Heath.
Adrenaline is already pumping through my veins as I grab my cell, already walking toward the elevator. Fuck, it’s 1pm. How the hell did I sleep so god damn long? What is wrong with me?
I slam the elevator button, anxiety mounting with every second the slow elevator takes to move toward the ground floor. There’s a text message from Harper on my phone, saying that the settlement offer worked: Colt’s lawyer accepted, all the papers are signed.
I punch in her number and almost shake with relief when I hear her pick up.
“Thank god you’re ok,” I say. “What the hell were you thinking, running out like that by yourself?”
“Woah,”
she laughs, “Hello to you too! Congratulations would have been nice, too, Dominic—we did it! It’s settled. It’s over. I think a celebration is in order tonight, maybe some champagne or even tequila. Your days of dealing with lawyers are hopefully done and you’re about to be a very rich man.”
“Where are you, Harper?”
“Just leaving the meeting that’s saved our asses, geez, why don’t you sound even a little psyched? We won!”
I’m having trouble keeping my voice calm. We haven’t won yet. Winning means getting out of this alive and well. “Where was the meeting?”
“In my office, Mr. Gustappo. You’re awful possessive after love-making, you know.”
“Colt was there?”
“Yeah, Colt was there. Wow what is this, twenty questions?”
I grit my teeth with impatience. “What did he say?”
“Not much. I could tell he wasn’t happy about the settlement but his lawyer talked some sense into him. Everything is done. We’re okay, Dominic.”
I’m barreling through the lobby and trying to remember where I parked my bike. I can get to her building in ten minutes from here.
“Stay there at your office Harper. Lock the door. I’m coming to meet you. Don’t move, don’t talk to anybody, don’t go anywhere by yourself. Not even the bathroom, okay?”
“Dominic, calm down! I can’t meet you at my office, I’m already in a town car on my way to the Sons’ clubhouse. I need some signatures from your MC officers.”
“Shit.” This isn’t good: anything can happen on the road. “Where are you, where’s the car?”
“Dominic, what’s the matter?”
“You’re unprotected. Colt knows you’re unprotected. He could be following you.”
“I’ll be fine, Dominic, just—”
There’s a sudden screech and crashing sound on Harper’s end.
“Harper?”
I can’t hear her voice anymore, just chaos and static.
“Harper? What’s happening? Are you there?”
The line goes dead, and my hands start to shake.
“Harper? Babe? You there? Shit!”
I’m having a panic attack, struggling for air. I try to re-dial Harper’s number, but my fingers are clumsy and before I can call her my screen lights up with another message from her phone.
It says: D.C. 30 minutes. –C.
No.
Holy fuck. Colt. It’s happening. It’s happening again, and it’s all my fucking fault: first Heath, now Harper. He’s taken her.
And I didn’t stop him.
Not good enough. I don’t deserve Harper if I can’t protect her. I’m not good enough. I’ve never been good enough. Not at the reservation. Not in Plattsburg. Half-blood. Half-ass. I couldn’t save Heath, I couldn’t stop Colt, and I couldn’t protect Harper. Hard as I tried, he still got her.
Fuck! Everything is falling apart.
“Get a grip, Dominic,” I whisper to myself. “This would be time to do that hero thing.”
I am Dominic Thorne. I am Mohawk. I am white. I am two worlds and two people in one. I am a fighter, a survivor, and need no charity. I take revenge. I kill or be killed.
I kill.
Think, think—I’ve got to think. Thirty minutes. D.C. Depraved Club. I’ve got to get to the Depraved Club site, that pile of bones and filth. But there’s no demand for money. No bargaining. Colt’s only given me a time and a place. He wants blood.
Harper’s blood. Or mine.
Kill or be killed.
My body feels cold and dead as I force it to sprint towards my motorcycle.
Chapter Fourteen
Harper
The first thing I notice as I wake is a gentle swaying sensation. It brings back summers in the Caribbean. I’m reliving the memory of being in a boat, rocking in space to and fro: rock-a-bye baby. It’s almost nice. I don’t want to open my eyes for some reason. I want to stay in the boat. Safe.
Then I hear a faint hum, as if air is moving around me but not touching me. Wind? No. I’m in a vacuum: a cocoon, or one of those isolated, soundproofed music rooms at universities where the walls suck up sound.
For a drowsy minute I think I must be in one of those music rooms, an undergraduate again asleep on a practice piano between classes. That explains it. That explains why my head is heavy, why it’s quiet. Why I don’t want to wake up.
Something is wrong.
An odd cold is what gets me to open my eyes and move; I don’t want to be lying on this block of ice anymore and my elbows and hands and feet are aching with the cold. But it’s not cold. This is Las Vegas. I’m confused. Why am I cold? The back of my head is throbbing and when I reach to touch it my fingers come away sticky and red.
“Shit!”
I’m bleeding. A lot. Well, that explains the feeling of cold. Frowning at the blood on my fingers, I squint into the darkness around me. I seem to be floating, swaying in mid-air. Though it’s dark around me, I can see a gray concrete floor swaying far below me. What the fuck? How?
I’m in a glass box. It’s clear and square.
Where the hell am I, through the looking glass?
I’m in a fucking glass box, held up in the air and dangling from a warehouse ceiling by four huge chains. The ceiling is sheet metal. The glass box is clear and just large enough for me to sit up or lay down, like an oversized aquarium.
Oh my god, I know where I am.
I’m in the Depraved Club.
“Help!” I shout.
I’m in the Depraved Club and its dark and haunted and it smells like fear. I’m in one of those glass cages I remember seeing the women sex-slaves and wild animals displayed in when I was here before, trapped and dangling over the dance floor.
What the fuck is going on?
“Hello?” I shout, banging my palms against the glass. It hurts my hands, but I don’t stop banging. It’s so freaking cold! Of course the glass doesn’t budge, but my flailing makes the cage swing gently, creaking on its chains like a lonely ghost.
“Hello?” My voice reverberates back to me, sounding small and faint. I realize the glass cage has its own top. I’m sealed in from every side, and my voice probably doesn’t carry. But still, I clear my throat and shout at the top of my lungs. “Hey, anybody there? Help! Someone help me! Let me out! Hello?”
My cries die away unanswered. It’s then, in the dark, I see the flicker of a lighter. The spark of flame is not far from me, almost at my eye-level.
There’s someone sitting on the balcony in the dark, watching me.
“Who are you?” I shout, pounding the glass.
The point of fire rises and lights a cigarette, which glows like a demon’s eye and lets off smoke like tears. But I can’t see much of the person behind the cigarette, only the lonely dot of red in a big black room full of shadow.
My hair stands on end as a wave of panic and nausea compound the cold.
“What do you want? Let me out!”
The only answer is a puff of smoke. My eyes are adjusting to the dimness, and I can just make out the shape of a man around the cigarette.
“Mr. Colbain? Colt Cobain? Is that you?”
He doesn’t answer me, but a sinking sensation in my stomach tells me it’s him. It’s got to be. Dominic was right—Colt must have followed me from the settlement meeting this morning and caused the car crash that I’m just beginning to remember. It’s the last thing I remember before waking up here.
I should have been more careful. I should have thought it through. I should have made Dominic come with me to the office this morning. I should have been smarter than this.
“Why are you doing this?” I scream, enraged. “Let me out!”
No answer.
There’s a rumbling sound somewhere behind me, and I turn in my swinging cage to see the collapsed, unhinged metal doors of the Depraved Club being ripped open like a sardine can and tossed to the side. There’s a crash and a wall of light tumbles in from outside, a man’s silhouette falling over
the floor like an axe.
Dominic!
“Colt,” he shouts. “Show yourself, you cock-sucking bastard. If you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you slowly. You cowardly son of a bitch.”
The voice sounds far away, like through a tunnel, but even from a distance and in the dark I recognize the shape of his ripped body, like a UFC fighter standing proud in the doorway with his shadow filling up the warehouse floor. I sure wouldn’t want him angry with me. The sunlight behind him outlines every contour of his muscles like an etching in steel.
Colt doesn’t answer, and when I whip my head around to look, I see another puff of smoke from his cigarette. No movement. No sound.
“Harper,” Dominic shouts. “Can you hear me?”
“Dominic!” I shout, not knowing if he can hear me. “Dominic! Up here! He’s in the balcony! Be careful! Dominic, the balcony!”
Dominic shows no sign of hearing me. Instead, he crouches down in the doorway in a defensive position, aiming the beam of a flashlight ahead of him into the darkness.
“Dominic! Dominic? Up here, can you hear me?”
Frantic, I push with all my might against one side of the glass cage. It doesn’t budge in its seams, but the chains creak with my shifting weight, giving me an idea. With a deep breath, I throw my body as hard as I can against one side of the cage, then the other. The chains squeal and rattle as the cage begins to rock like a boat in the waves.
Dominic’s flashlight beam moves up toward the sound, and soon the light is shining in my face.
“Harper?” I hear him shout. “Are you ok?”
But there’s no chance for me to answer him. Out of nowhere I see another flash near Colt’s cigarette, but a different kind. This flash goes with an ear-splitting crack.
A gunshot. One of the chains snaps free from the nearest corner of my glass cage. Colt fired at my cage.
Gasping in panic, I lurch as the cage bounces and swings with the sudden loss of balanced support, making me fall to my side.
“Shit!” I squeal, scrambling for equilibrium.
