Circle of Death

by Colleen Masters

  “Good work, Simmons,” Jim says, pocketing the drive. “Looks like your leg of this operation is over. We’ll be in touch about your next assignment.”

  “Actually,” Elliot says quickly, as the men turn to go, “I was hoping you could pass along a message to the boss for me, about my...responsibilities in this corporation.”

  Mike cocks an eyebrow at the editor. “Go on,” he drawls.

  “If possible, I’d like to take on a more peripheral position,” Elliot says, lifting her chin. “Maybe something advisory, less hands-on. The editorial life has treated me well, but it’s a lot to keep up with. I think it’s time to pass the baton—”

  “Now now, Elliot,” Jim says, clicking his tongue. “You know the boss will never go for that. You’re too valuable to this operation for him to let you go now.”

  “I wouldn’t be going,” Elliot says hurriedly, “I just wouldn’t be dealing with this aspect of the business—”

  “Cut the shit, Simmons,” Mike snaps, losing his patience all at once. “You know as well as we do that the only way you’re getting out of this job is in a box. That was the agreement you made with the corporation. You remember—when they decided not to just put a bullet through your skull and bury you in a shallow grave instead.”

  “Most girls who were in your position didn’t get such a generous deal,” Jim goes on, his grin mean and sinister. “You should take a minute to remind yourself just how lucky you are, Elliot. How much you owe to Leviathan. The least you could do is help them out in this tiny little capacity, don’t you think?”

  At a loss, Elliot averts her gaze from the men before her. She bites her tongue until she tastes blood, a thousand unsaid words vying to escape her mouth. All she wants is to beat the shit out of these fuckers, each in turn, and disappear without a trace. But of course, that’s not an option. Leviathan would get her in the end. Leviathan always gets what it wants.

  “There’s a good girl,” Mike says quietly, laying a hand on Elliot’s arm.

  The editor jerks away from his touch, and the men laugh cruelly, strolling out of her office and into the warehouse elevator. It isn’t until she’s heard the front door slam shut, listened as their car drives away into the night, that Elliot sinks down onto the floor of her office, weeping. Her keening cries fill the abandoned office space, echoing off the high walls.

  “I’ll never shake them,” she sobs to herself, rocking back and forth on the hardwood floor. “No matter what, I’ll never shake these fuckers.”

  She lets herself cry until the morning sun begins to brighten the sky outside her office windows. In vain, she tries to tell herself that it’s just another day. She’s sold plenty of girls down the river before, only to brush herself off and continue on as if nothing had happened. But something about this latest girl, Logan, makes it impossible for her to carry on.

  As the first FootSoldier bloggers arrive for the day, Elliot is gathering her things and making for the door.

  “Where are you off to?” asks a senior writer.

  “I’m taking a personal day,” Elliot says vaguely, stepping into the elevator. “I’ve got some things to attend to. Carry on without me. You are FootSoldiers, after all.”

  And with that, the elevator down slams shut. Elliot Simmons is in the wind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The deliciously scalding bath water laps against my skin as I settle back against Devlin’s chest. It’s been another long few days of hiking, swimming, and vigorous fucking. We’ve decided that we deserve a long, hot bath before tonight’s debauchery begins again in earnest. But even in this restful moment, my mind is working to accommodate everything I’m learning, here. I hold up eight fingers, ticking them off as I quiz myself once more.

  “So you’re the president,” I say, putting down a finger. “Packer’s the VP,” another finger down. “Lobo’s the Road Captain, and—”

  “Lobo’s the Sergeant at Arms,” Devlin corrects me, running his hands down my sudsy arms. “Leon’s the Road Captain.”

  “Shit. Right,” I say, shaking my head. “Then Chip is the Treasurer, Dean is the Secretary, Otis is the last founding member, Brutus is the Enforcer, and Xan...is set dressing, I guess.”

  “That’s about right,” Devlin laughs, “But there’s not going to be a quiz, you know.”

  “I know,” I smile, turning around to face him in the expansive bath. “But I want to know my shit if I’m going to be hanging around the Circle of Death from here on out.”

  “That’s a very admirable notion,” Devlin says, placing his hands on my thighs beneath the warm water. “But I’m having trouble concentrating on anything admirable when you’re sitting in front me naked.”

  “Sorry. Am I distracting you?” I grin, standing up from the piping hot bath. Rivulets of water course over my curves as I move to step out of the tub.

  “Get back here,” Devlin commands, his voice calm and even.

  At once, I obey, spinning around to face him again. A rush of anticipation flows through me as his tone darkens. I’ve come to love following his instructions, showing him that I can match his intensity, his desire. With every command of his I obey, I feel stronger. More cherished. I never thought it would be possible to draw power from submission, but that’s exactly what happens when I let Devlin do what he wants with me. He’s always so overcome, so transformed by his want of me. It makes me feel incredible.

  “Come closer,” he says, placing his hands on the sides of the marble tub. His black hair is wet, pushed away from his forehead. His fine features are flushed with the heat of the bath, and his every muscle shimmers in the candlelit air. My sex pulses eagerly as I ease my body back into the water, placing myself between his spread legs.

  “Touch me,” he goes on, leveling his dark gaze at my upturned face.

  “Like this?” I ask, running my hands along his sculpted thighs. I can’t help but tease him a little, even in these passionate moments. I’ve learned that he likes a little kickback from me, every once in a while.

  “Wrap your hands around my cock,” he says slowly, spelling it out for me. His bluntness makes me shiver with delight. Obediently, I take his massive member in my hands. It’s hard as stone, ready and waiting for me.

  “I can barely get a hold of you, you’re so big,” I whisper, working my fingers down the length of his shaft.

  “You love how huge I am, don’t you?” he grins, letting his head fall back as I caress him. “I really do,” I murmur, running my thumbs along the round, tender head of his cock. I loose one hand, reaching for his balls. My fingertips brush against his swollen sack as I tighten my grip on his thick member.

  Devlin’s eyes close in blissful silence, and I can feel that place between my own legs aching with delight. Pleasing Devlin, making him feel amazing and taken care of, gets me off just as much as being pleasured myself. As his hands tighten around the edge of the marble tub, I can feel my sex pounding with desire. It’s like I’m absorbing the shockwaves of his pleasure. We’re a closed circuit, Dev and I. Every thrill and spark of sensation that we set off in each other comes back, redoubled, to ourselves.

  I have to say, it’s a pretty fabulous arrangement.

  “Turn around,” Devlin says suddenly, sitting up in the hot bath.

  Without another word, I turn my back to him, gasping as I feel him grab hold of my hips. With a firm tug he pulls me into his lap. We groan together as his staggering cock drives straight into my body. I settle back against him, sliding down onto his massive length, pulling him all the way inside. His arms tighten around my slender waist as I feel his cock pierce through the very depths of me.

  I rock against Declan’s cut body as he bucks into me, again and again. His hands close around my breasts, his fingers kneading and pinching at my hard nipples. His cock is slamming against my g-spot, sending me spiraling ever closer to the edge of bliss. I shove my fingers through my long black hair, amazed at the feel of him so deep inside of me.

  “I want you to
touch yourself,” Devlin growls, his voice rough and ragged in my ear.

  “Right now?!” I gasp, glancing back at his dark, smoldering eyes.

  “Now,” he commands, burying his fingers in my hair.

  I draw my hands down to my sex as I ride Devlin’s fierce thrusts. Just as I place two fingers against my hard, swollen clit, he tugs back on my long locks. The sudden firm jerk makes me dizzy with excitement, and I rub eager circles around that hard nub of nerves between my legs. A pool of pleasure wells up in my core, ready to spill through me.

  “I’m so close,” I gasp, bouncing wildly on Devlin’s cock.

  “Come with me,” he commands, pulling my hair tighter as he pounds into me.

  Whether it’s his words themselves or his massive member pummeling into that delicious spot that sends me over the edge, I can’t say. All I know is, I’m a goner. I don’t even try and swallow the cry of ecstasy that spills out of me as Devlin and I erupt together. I can feel him coming into me, hard and fast. I grind my hips against his as he fills me up, holding me flush against him. Our bodies relax into each other as our twin orgasms sweep through, leaving us spent and happy...if not as clean as you might expect from a bath.

  Devlin lays his lips against my throat, kissing me deeply. Unhurriedly. I settle back against his chest, a slow smile spreading across my face. We get to take our time now, I realize. Now that I’ve decided not to rush back to Boston, to stay with the MC for the foreseeable future, there’s no need to rush. We can simply enjoy ourselves, and each other, at our leisure. It’s a luxury I never thought I’d get to experience with Devlin.

  Of course, things will be different once we leave the island. The MC is set to depart the day after next, after a few long weeks of endless partying. The Circle of Death may be outlaws, but they still have affairs of their own to see to. I only have a pretty loose understanding of how the club sustains its sizable fortune, but it’s like Devlin’s said time and again—I’ll know what I need to know when I need to know it. That’s a tough pill to swallow, what with my curious, journalistic mind. But I can try my best. For him.

  Eventually, Devlin helps me out of the deep tub and hands me a soft hotel towel. I wrap myself up, luxuriating in the feel of the soft cotton against my naked skin. Juliet has assured me that the Circle of Death members don’t live in grungy hovels, like some movies and TV shows would have you believe. Most of the guys keep nice homes near the headquarters, as a matter of fact. But however nice Devlin’s digs turn out to be, I don’t think anything I experience from here on out will ever compare to the grandeur of The Club.

  I glance across the room at Devlin’s naked form, as thoughts of the future whir about my mind. We’ve decided that instead of heading back to my Boston apartment, I’ll head back to Maine with the Circle of Death and see what their life is all about. I’ll stay with Dev while Juliet teaches me the ropes. Devlin and I are being very careful not to throw around any titles—like “girlfriend” or “old lady” or anything along those lines. This situation has us both out of our comfort zones. We’re figuring it out as we go along. No reason to spoil anything by trying to slap a label on it, right?

  “Goddamn,” Devlin growls, wrapping a towel around his tapered waist. “I am sure as hell glad you missed that boat of yours, babe.”

  I laugh, standing in front of the wide bathroom mirror. It’s incredible how comfortable I feel, standing naked in front of Devlin with wet hair and not a smudge of makeup on my face. It’s only been, what, five days now, and already I feel more at ease with him than any man I’ve ever dated. I wring out my long hair, studying his perfect body in the mirror before me.

  “That makes two of us, Dev,” I tell him.

  “Stay right there,” he says, striding into the bedroom. “I have a surprise for you.”

  I shake my head, grinning to myself. “I’ve already decided to stay on with you, Dev,” I call out to him, “You don’t need to keep spoiling me.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t mind too much,” he replies, reappearing in the doorway with a black garment bag. “Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. You’re with the president of the Circle of Death himself, babe. That means you get to live it up at little.”

  My eyes go wide as Devlin unzips the garment bag, revealing a slinky scarlet evening gown. I spin around to take in the incredible dress, almost afraid to touch something so fine.

  “I thought we could use a night off from the woods,” Devlin grins, amused by my baffled expression. “That is, if you don’t mind wading through the douchey finance bros who hog all the blackjack tables.”

  “I think we can manage,” I smile, running a hand along the silky red dress. It moves like liquid under my fingers. This had to have cost Devlin a fortune. “The MC must be having a pretty good year, if you can afford to splurge on me like this.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” he chuckles, “The MC has never been stronger. Financially or otherwise.”

  “So whatever bad news Packer had for you the other day is taken care of now?” I say, trying to sound casual. We still haven’t really discussed the outburst of that day. Or the fight between us that followed.

  I can feel Devlin start to withdraw the moment I press for details about the MC. But to my happy surprise, he offers up an actual response.

  “That’s an...ongoing headache,” he allows, handing me my dress. “There’s another group that wants to do business with us, and they can’t seem to get it through their heads that it’s never going to happen.”

  “You’re not interested in partnering with them?” I ask.

  “Not in the least,” Devlin says firmly, “They’re into some nasty shit, those guys. Drugs, weapons, human traffic.”

  “Jesus,” I whisper, feeling my stomach turn at the very idea of Devlin being mixed up with all that.

  “Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms, “Like I said, my club’s going nowhere near that stuff. But these guys just won’t take no for an answer. They want us for distribution, and their means of persuasion are getting a bit too...aggressive for my taste.”

  “Why can’t they just find someone else to do their dirty work for them?” I ask.

  “They want the best,” Devlin says proudly. “But I love how defensive you’re getting on our behalf.”

  “Can’t help it,” I shrug, “Between you and Juliet, all the people I care about most in the world are in the Circle of Death.”

  I bite my tongue, glancing up at Devlin to see if I’ve gone too far. We try and steer clear of sentimental, lovey mutterings between us. And right now, I can feel that I’m toeing the line. But Devlin takes it in stride, thank god.

  “Anyway, I’m sure they’ll back off soon,” he says. “They tried going through one of our smaller chapters. That’s the news Packer had for me the other day. We had to get rid of the brother they bought off. But it’s all taken care of now. No other weak links to worry about.”

  “What do you mean when you say ‘get rid of’?” I ask nervously.

  “Try on that dress,” Devlin replies, dodging my question entirely, “I want to see how fucking sexy you look in it.”

  He leaves me alone to get ready for the evening. I can’t help but be a little perturbed by the details of Devlin’s club business. It would almost be easier if I knew everything about the situation at hand. Knowing only a few details leaves my imagination to run wild. But I guess the only way to be trusted with more information is to prove myself trustworthy.

  Lingering shame tugs at my heartstrings as I do up my makeup for the night. It doesn’t escape me that my motives for coming to this island make me the least trustworthy person imaginable to the Circle of Death. Even though I’ve officially killed the story I was meant to write about Devlin and the guys, I can’t help but feel residually guilty about the whole thing. Should I just come clean to Dev about how I ended up here?

  “Don’t be stupid,” I mutter to myself, swiping some red onto my full lips. “You’ve got a great thin
g going, here. No need to fuck it up with full disclosure.”

  With my vixenish makeup completed and my hair smoothed out into long, black waves, I’m ready to slip into the dress Devlin so generously bought for me. I step reverently into the gown, holding my breath as I zip up the sinfully low back. When I turn to face myself in the mirror, I barely recognize the person staring back.

  The crimson dress glances elegantly against my every curve, showcasing my full bust, cinched waist, and firm ass. I look like a grownup woman of the world. The whole effect is overwhelming. Empowering.

  “I didn’t think you could look any sexier,” I hear Devlin growl from the doorway. “But I’ll be damned...”

  I turn around to face him, my face breaking into a wicked grin. I’ve never felt more beautiful in my life than when his eyes are on me.

  “It’s funny,” I laugh, striding across the bathroom toward him. “You get the same hungry look in your eye whether I’m wearing hiking gear or an evening gown.”

  “You’re fucking gorgeous in both,” he shrugs. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me want you less.”

  Another twang of guilt pulls at me. I suspect that I know one thing that would, in fact, make Devlin less of a Logan Farrah fan. But no need to think of that now.

  “You wanna get dressed so you can show me off to all the douchey bankers downstairs?” I ask, lacing my arms around Devlin’s neck.

  “What I want is to throw you up against the wall and fuck you until you scream,” he replies, tugging me hard against his body. “But I don’t want to mess up your hair.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” I tease, planting a kiss on Dev’s defined pec. I smile to see that a red lipstick mark is left in its wake, right across the capital “D” of his Diabolus tattoo.

  “When it comes to you, I sure as fuck am,” he says, cupping my chin in his hand. “You know, I thought I’d be sorry to leave this place behind, after this week. But now that I know you’re coming with me? I don’t mind one bit.”