Deal with the Devil

by March, Meghan

  32

  India

  Is he fucking serious?

  All my warm and fuzzy feelings of appreciation disintegrate as soon as Forge throws down his gauntlet.

  I came in here to thank the man for getting my sister back safely—with genuine gratitude—and he throws it back in my face.

  What did you think you were getting into by marrying him, Indy? The voice in my head asks the rhetorical question, because it clearly doesn’t require an answer.

  But me, in my desperation and moment of naivete, didn’t expect this. But I should have. Because he’s a man, and they’re all the same.

  I know I’m out of my league with Forge, despite the fact that we’re married, but that won’t stop me from trying to hold my own in any way I can.

  I straighten my shoulders and stare him down with my don’t fuck with me gaze, the one I normally only pull out in a room of misogynistic poker players. “You played me.”

  His lips quirk, but not quite far enough to be labeled a smile. “Call it what you want.”

  “Why?” His dark stare is the only answer he gives, so I keep going. “You’re not even going to pretend that this wasn’t all part of your premeditated plan, are you? You knew I’d do anything to get her back, and you put the whole operation into action before you even offered me the solution, because you were so damn sure I’d say yes to it.”

  His expression stays static, but heat burns in his eyes. “You’re not stupid, India, so why are we having this discussion when you’ve clearly already figured everything out?” Forge’s drawl takes on a mocking edge.

  It’s clear this man I married not even an hour ago thinks he has me figured out on every level, but he forgot that I live and breathe strategy. When I sit down at a table, I take the emotion out of the game. I don’t just play the hand; I play the people. I fucked up at La Reina. I let emotion get to me—specifically, fear that Forge would fuck everything up—which is exactly what happened. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I won’t make that mistake again.

  It doesn’t matter that my fuckup actually saved my sister’s life. Because now I’m in debt to a man I’ll never be able to repay. When I said “I do” and became another one of Jericho Forge’s possessions, my life changed irrevocably. My only shot at not losing myself completely in these new, uncharted waters of being tied to an infamous billionaire is to go back to basics.

  Play the man. I can’t let him best me, which is exactly what’s going to happen if I’m predictable.

  Jericho Forge may think he has me figured out, but he has no idea who he’s fucking with—or who he married.

  My every instinct tells me to run, but instead, I take a step forward. “Right here? Are you sure you’re not too busy?”

  One of his dark eyebrows rises arrogantly as I take another step toward him. “I’m never too busy for my wife to suck my dick.”

  Rage, the likes of which I haven’t felt in years, boils up inside me, and my decision is made.

  I’m going to break Jericho Forge.

  33

  Forge

  She closes the distance between us, her steps no longer hesitant, and more blood rushes to my dick.

  Anger burns in her eyes. Rage rolls off her. My plan to keep her away failed spectacularly, and now she’d rather kill me than wrap her mouth around my cock. If I were a careful man, I’d keep my distance.

  But I’ve never been a careful man. I take risks that sane men call crazy, but when I walk away with a prize that’s bigger than anything they’ve ever conceived in their limited imaginations, I feel their envy.

  Having India Baptiste on her knees, choking on your dick, is something any man would envy. Yet no man but me will ever know what that feels like from this moment on.

  The thought shakes my composure for a second. I never planned on keeping her, but watching this fire-breathing dragon of a beauty walk toward me with murder on her mind while she’s still willing to go to her knees changes everything.

  She’s fucking magnificent.

  If she can suck dick half as well as she can make me hard just by breathing, I may have found my newest addiction.

  She stops, and I wonder if she’s partly bluffing, but the determination in her gaze says no. I was before, but I’m sure as hell not bluffing now either.

  I reach for the button on my shorts and flick it open before tugging down the zipper. “I’ll let you take it from here, wife.”

  The sharp slice of her blue eyes could cut a man to shreds, but it only makes my dick harder.

  “You’re an asshole,” she says.

  “Don’t talk about assholes unless you want me to fuck yours.”

  Her pretty mouth drops open to form a little O, and my cock throbs. Her reactions to my obscene language only make me want to tell her more of the depraved things I’ve imagined doing to her, simply to watch her shock.

  “Second thoughts? If so, feel free to show yourself out.” It’s my last offer to let her walk out.

  She bares her teeth at me, which should be a sign to tell her to get the fuck away from my dick, but I won’t.

  “No teeth,” I tell her.

  India bends forward, laying a hand on each of my knees, and stares at me point-blank. “You are either a very brave or a very stupid man.”

  I can’t help but smile at her actions and words. There are grown men, CEOs of billion-dollar companies, who have a hard time looking me in the eye.

  I reach out and grasp her blond hair in my fist. “You don’t have a single clue what kind of man I am, India, but you’re about to find out.”

  With a tug, I bring her to her knees between my legs, and revel in the shocked breath that escapes her lips.

  Fuck, taming her is going to be fun—or the death of me.

  34

  India

  My knees hit the plush pile of the carpet, and the only thing I can think is that he has a dickless death wish. Or he’s just that arrogant.

  I curl my nails into the muscles of his thick, hard thighs, and my resolve doubles down. I’m going to bring him to his knees. He’ll never know what hit him.

  It’s a vow that I would sign in blood, but Jericho Forge’s grip moves to my neck, squeezing just enough to let me know that he’s in control.

  Bullshit. I’m in control. This is my choice, not his.

  He may think he’s won this battle of wills, but it isn’t even close to being settled yet. Any other woman in her right mind would probably decide she’s going to give him a half-assed blow job just to get the hell out of here, but not me.

  Fuck no. I’m going to blow him better than any woman who has ever come near his cock. Why? Because when you own a man’s dick, you control him. Since I just married this man, it’s time to stake my claim, especially before he can stake his.

  “I hope you’re ready for this.”

  “Darlin’, I was born ready.”

  I roll my eyes. “Cliché much?”

  A wolfish smile spreads over his face but then disappears in an instant. “I didn’t marry you for your opinions. Those lips, on the other hand . . .”

  I glare, but reach into his fly and wrap my hand around his monster of a cock. “What about these hands?”

  I stroke him hard, once and then again, gripping the smooth flesh over steel. His dick responds with a jerk, and I keep my eyes on his as I lower my mouth to circle the head with my tongue.

  He attempts stoicism, but I catch the shift in his hips as he spreads his legs to make more room for me, and the upward buck of his hips he tries to fight.

  Sorry, Mr. Forge, this is my game. You don’t make the rules here, but feel free to beg.

  I circle the head again, flicking my tongue at the clear pre-cum that beads on the tip. I lift my head slowly, my gaze never leaving his, and lick my lips and moan. “You taste delicious.”

  His brow furrows as his gaze narrows on me. “Tease me at your own risk.”

  I huff out a laugh. “If you think this is teasing . . . just wait.”


  I break our eye contact and lick him from base to tip before taking him deep. His hips lift and his hand tenses on my neck, just enough to tell me that it’s killing him to let me be in control. He wants nothing more than to hold me where he wants me and to fuck my face until he shoots his load down my throat.

  Heat blooms between my legs, despite the fact that it should piss me off.

  I try to tell myself I’m only doing the unexpected to keep him off guard, but the wetness slicking my thighs tells me I’m a liar.

  I lift my gaze back to Forge’s and pull my mouth off the end of his dick with a pop. “I have three words for you, Mr. Forge.”

  His brows dive together, his expression turning angry. “If you tell me to go fuck—”

  I shake my head, cutting him off. Then I deliver my coup de grâce by holding up one finger at a time as I say the words.

  “Fuck. My. Face.”

  35

  Forge

  Jesus fucking Christ. Who is this woman?

  I don’t have time to answer that question because I’m too busy complying with her order, something I never do.

  With one hand wrapped around the back of her neck and the other alongside her cheek, I shift both of our positions so that I can get the right angle, and then I do exactly that.

  Thrust after thrust, I plow between those pillowy lips, fucking her gorgeous face. She tilts her head back when I hit the back of her throat, no doubt adjusting to her gag reflex. I give her a moment to recover when I see unshed tears forming in her eyes, but she gives me a nod to keep going, and there’s no fucking way I’m about to stop now. Not when I’ve just found heaven.

  My cock disappears down her throat as she breathes through her nose and there’s no hesitation. Pump after pump, I fuck her face like it’s her cunt. Her hands grip my thighs, and I watch the tears streak down her cheeks.

  Fucking beautiful.

  I swipe my thumbs along her skin to catch them as they fall. Another thing I’ve never done before. Then again, I’ve never been married before either.

  Another thought follows. She’s too fucking good at this.

  Something akin to rage that she’s had enough practice to perfect the art of having her face fucked sends me spiraling. I lose my rhythm, fighting the urge to come.

  She digs her nails into my legs, almost like she’s encouraging me to keep going. With a harsh breath, I flex and pump between those lips until I’m about to blow my load. Just before I come, I pull out.

  “Don’t you dare come on my tits, Forge. Don’t you fucking dare.”

  She releases her grip on my thighs and wraps her hand around my cock, stroking before she closes her mouth over the head of my dick. Then she sucks and strokes, and her other hand finds my balls.

  Fuck.

  I can’t hold it back another second. I blow hard, and she swallows every drop as I come down her throat.

  When my cock softens in her mouth, she retreats, using my knees to push herself to her feet as she wipes her fingers across her grin with triumph lighting those vivid blue eyes.

  “What the fuck are you smiling about?” I ask, my tone low and deep.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ll see you later, Forge. I’m sure you know how to find me.”

  And with that, my fucking wife turns on her heel and walks out of my study, leaving me with my dick out and a fuck-ton of questions about what the hell I really got myself into.

  36

  India

  “This boat is insane. How the hell did you end up on here? With him?” Dressed in a cute pink blouse and white shorts provided by Dorsey, my sister braids her hair, wet from the shower, as she looks around the salon where I retreated after my encounter with Forge.

  My husband. I still don’t know how I feel about that.

  I haven’t told my sister yet. She’s been more than a little distracted since she got off the helicopter, which is probably the only reason she hasn’t noticed my ring and started asking a million questions. Thankfully, the shower seemed to have washed away most of the terror from her ordeal—or she’s pretending it never happened, which is a skill we both picked up during childhood.

  “We need to get in touch with Alanna and let her know you’re okay. She’s been worried sick,” I say instead of answering her questions.

  Summer’s brows go up. “I already did. That chick gave me a sat phone when she showed me to the cabin for my shower.” My sister pauses, her voice lowering. “Alanna told me what happened with Forge. That you played him in a game and you lost.”

  Dammit, Alanna. She didn’t need to know.

  Now what the hell am I going to tell Summer? You’d think the truth would be the obvious answer, but I’ve spent so many years telling my little sister half-truths and white lies to shield her from the harsh realities of life, the truth isn’t my go-to reply.

  “It’s a long story, and the only thing that matters is you’re here and away from those awful people.”

  “You’re deflecting, Indy. If you don’t want to tell me, don’t. But I don’t need you to try to protect me from this. I’m an adult, not a kid. I got myself into this situation, and now I need to figure out how to get you out of whatever mess you’re in because of me. I owe you that much.”

  I paste a smile on my face, because Summer’s like a dog with a bone. She won’t let go of this.

  “Let’s go find some food, and I’ll avoid your questions over lunch. Sound good?”

  Summer rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you know I’ll find out eventually, even if I have to ask Forge himself.”

  Normally, I’d beg her to leave it alone, but in this case, I don’t think it’s necessary. Letting her question Forge would be like letting her talk to a granite rock face. All she’s going to get is hard looks and silence in return.

  “Knock yourself out. Now, come on, let’s eat.”

  I lead the way to the sundeck, following the scent of food. Even all these years after our stint of living on the street, my nose is still highly attuned to such things. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

  Under the massive fiberglass roof, we find a teak table set with linens that match the navy and white uniforms of the workers on the boat. Fresh fruit and vegetables are set out, along with salads and pastas and a plate of thinly sliced meats and cheeses.

  Summer’s stomach growls. “I think I’ve found paradise,” she says as she pulls out a chair and drops into it. She grabs an olive and pops it in her mouth. “I might eat this whole damn spread.”

  I look around for a sign of Dorsey or another person to ask if they mind if we eat, but I see no one, so I take a chair as well. Forge is always trying to feed me, so it’s not like he’s going to object.

  Why am I looking to him for approval? That has to stop. I make a mental note and grab my napkin.

  “How do you know where we are?” I ask Summer.

  Her hand pauses as she reaches for the olive platter. “Am I not supposed to know?”

  “I was just curious. Did they tell you on the chopper? Do you know where you were being held?”

  She scoops up a handful of olives and drops them on the silver-rimmed white china plate emblazoned with the stylized F logo in front of her.

  “Not exactly. I just know it was hot, sticky, and dusty, and no one spoke English. I heard some French and Arabic and Italian, though.”

  A thought strikes me, reminding me I never asked Forge about the Russians who were looking for me.

  “No Russian?”

  Summer frowns. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Miguel said there were guys sniffing around the building, looking for me, and he thought they were Russian mobsters.”

  The color drains from Summer’s tanned face. “Those are some serious bad dudes, Indy. I would never get involved with people like that.”

  “Russians weren’t running the poker ring you played?”

  “I don’t think so. Although, I don’t really know anything for sure. My contact was Spanish.”r />
  “But you didn’t say anyone spoke Spanish where you were being held.”

  She pauses in mid-chew. “They didn’t. They handed me off to some other guys who kept me blindfolded and gagged and tied up.” Tears fill her eyes. “I thought I was going to die, Indy. I knew that if there was anyone who could save me, it would be you . . . but I thought I finally did something that couldn’t be undone. I’m so sorry. I will never stop apologizing for it.”

  “Good.”

  Forge’s deep voice comes from behind us, and we both whip our heads around to look at him as he crosses the sundeck. He’s wearing black slacks and a dress shirt, like he’s going to a meeting instead of standing on a boat at sea.

  “Thank you, Mr. Forge. You have my undying gratitude. If there’s anything I can ever do to repay you, I’ll do it.”

  Forge’s cursory gaze sweeps over my sister before shifting to me. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my wife.”

  Summer’s eyebrows climb up her forehead as she looks from Forge to me and back again.

  “Wait. Wait just a freaking second. You’re saying . . .” She jerks in her seat as she catches sight of the ring on my finger. “What in the actual fuck happened while I was gone?”

  My lips press together because I have no idea how I’m supposed to handle this. Forge and I never discussed what story we’d give people, because the chopper touched down with my sister. Then again, Forge is the one who raised the subject, so he can deal with the explanations.

  Except he doesn’t. He’s totally silent, watching us both.

  Seriously, man? He just unleashed a tidal wave of curiosity, and he isn’t even going to toss me a life raft?

  Wait. Maybe this is some kind of test?