Hacked For Love & The Dom's Songbird

by Michelle Love

  “One of the men got hit in the vest. He’s bruised and lost his supper, but he’s conscious. Every other casualty is on their side, and they’re trapped now.”

  Drake smiles. “Good. Keep up the good work. From now on, contact me only if there’s an emergency, or when the police actually arrive.”

  “That could be a while. The ’copters just got grounded by snow, and the streets may be impassable soon.” I hear the man chuckle. “We’ve turned off heating in the section the goons are trapped in. That should soften them up just like the boys on the roof.”

  “Sounds like they’re in for a long, cold wait!” He laughs as he hangs up. I can’t help but smile as well.

  Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he looks down at me, and his smile goes lopsided. “How about we make our own wait a lot hotter?”

  I’ve never done this. I have to push my self-consciousness down…but I want this so damned bad. And the fact that he wants it as well makes me braver. “If…they really can’t get in…”

  He smooths my hair back. “They really can’t get in.”

  I smile softly. “Okay.” Then drown out the world for me.

  This time his kiss is softer, lingering, teasing at my lips, making me chase his. His playfulness eases my nerves. I giggle—and then he silences me with his mouth.

  My hands start exploring his back, learning the way it tenses and flexes under my fingertips, the smooth skin, the slick patches of scars. I wonder how many fights he's survived if he's treating being grazed by a bullet so casually. It feels like a lot.

  His fingers are busy unbuttoning my blouse while his mouth ravages mine. I want this. I want his big, rough hands sliding over my skin—and when I slip out of the blouse and feel just that, I moan with delight.

  His hands slide up and down my back, over my sides, my arms, my belly…and then up to cup my breasts. He kneads them softly through the fabric of my bra as I relax against him, then he tugs the cups upward a little and slides his hands inside.

  The feel of his fingertips brushing against my nipple almost hurts; a rush of sensation overloads my nerves, and I whimper and bite my lip hard. He nuzzles my cheek, and then nibbles his way back along my jawline and up my chin before teasing me into another kiss.

  Every stroke of his fingers over that sensitive skin makes my muscles tighten. I shake, knees clenched together, my cunt starting to ache. Then his hands slide back behind me to unfasten my bra, and he tugs it off my shoulders as I squirm to help get it off. I have to fight off the shy urge to hold the cloth over my breasts, but I'm determined now. I want more.

  His eyes light up fiercely as the cool air hits my breasts, and my nipples tighten almost painfully under his gaze. I've always been self-conscious about my body, but the hungry way he's staring at me helps…a lot. But I'm not quite ready for what happens next.

  He scoops me up, arms around my waist, and starts covering my chest with kisses—between and under my breasts, then all over them. He grunts a little as my thigh hits his wound, but a shift of position fixes his discomfort, and he goes right back to what he was doing.

  I dig my nails into his shoulders and cry out sharply as I feel his tongue play over my nipple. Then his mouth closes over it, and a long, warm, rough pull makes my voice rise to a scream.

  I squirm, not sure whether to pull away or push closer, my nerves overloaded. He pushes me back against the wall, pins me there, my breasts pillowed against his face as he sucks and licks and nibbles greedily. My voice is out of control; I can hear it echoing off the walls, my cries growing more desperate over time.

  Don't stop…

  He groans against my breast, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks as he holds me up. My skirt has rucked up past my hips, leaving only my wool tights between my flesh and his hands. He starts to knead my ass as he pins me against the wall, his thighs and shoulders taking my weight as if it’s nothing.

  I cling to him, crooning, and then my voice rises sharply again as he starts suckling my other breast. His hands knead me firmly; the ache inside me is gathering into a knot deep inside my cunt. The sensation leaves me dizzy and drunk—I need more sensation, but what I’m experiencing already is driving me wild.

  He shifts his grip on me, and then starts carrying me toward that massive bed, moving easily. My head is swimming, the brief reprieve relieving me and disappointing me at the same time. My breath comes in little whimpering sips, and as he settles me down on the broad mattress, I squirm against its velvet coverlet and reach for him pleadingly.

  He stands back, out of reach, and slowly removes his clothes. His actions are almost meditative, except for the burning heat in his eyes—and the enormous bulge in his crotch that I can’t easily look away from.

  His legs are as powerfully muscled as the rest of him, crossed here and there with more faint scars. When he unzips and slides out of trousers and boxers at the same time and steps forward, his sleek, uncut length bounces free of his fly, and I reach out for it greedily.

  The skin is silky, and I run my fingers over it. He stiffens and sucks air. I start to stroke him, intrigued at how even a gentle touch can make him shake. He lets out a soft grunt and gently pushes my hands away.

  “You first,” he rasps huskily, moving forward to pull off my skirt.

  He’s almost dainty in the way he rolls my tights down and lays aside my skirt. His warm hands slide over the bare skin of my legs as he frees them from the tights…and then he parts my thighs and moves up in between them, running his mouth up the inside of one in a way that makes my toes curl.

  His breath is warm as it blows over my mound, and then his long fingers are sliding in between my lips, slowly starting to explore. I let out a low sob, lifting my hips—and he stuns me completely when he lowers his head and kisses my cunt tenderly.

  His tongue darts between my lips and starts to meander up and down, exploring every fold of me…and then works its way upward, bit by tantalizing bit. My eyes fly open as I feel him kiss nearer and nearer to my aching, neglected clit—and then he pounces, and starts lashing his tongue over and around it firmly.

  My head snaps back and I wail, grabbing handfuls of the covers, pushing up on my heels as I roll my hips against his face. He feasts on me, the long, swirling strokes of his tongue growing firmer and faster as time goes on, until I feel the muscles of my cunt tighten.

  Everything catches fire—ecstasy rockets through me, exploding outward in waves through my body while I scream and thrash as he holds me down. It’s so good that I almost blackout for a moment, washed away on a tide of pleasure. And still he keeps tonguing me mercilessly, up until the point where I collapse and feel him climbing onto the mattress over me.

  He seizes my hips, pushes my knees up and apart, and settles over me. His powerful weight makes the springs creak. I feel the push of his cock against me—and then he’s sliding into my slick, tingling wetness. Being filled sets off aftershocks in my body, which only intensify as he groans and starts to thrust.

  I sob, clinging to him, overwhelmed in the best way possible, as he drives against me hard enough to push me deep into the mattress. He shouts with pleasure every time he sinks into me, his voice deep and hoarse. I croon and clutch at him, feeling my body tingle with pleasure at each fresh jolt.

  He’s tireless, feral, his voice hoarse in my ear as he moves against me endlessly. I’m going to explode again.

  I start to squirm under him, rolling my hips up to meet his. He gasps through his teeth and starts pounding harder. I look up and see his back arched, head thrown back, his every muscle taut. Then his cock jolts inside me—and the sudden movement sets me off.

  I thrash mutely this time, my muscles clenching around his shaft—which jumps and shudders inside me as he pants and shouts with bliss. We pull each other so close it’s like we’re trying to become one…and then relax, gasping softly for air.

  He collapses over me, completely spent. Low groans escape him with every breath, and he shivers when I stroke my hands up a
nd down his back. Inside of me, his cock is dwindling, and as we both catch our breath, I have to smile at myself.

  That was definitely worth taking the risk, I think, and stroke his hair as he dozes, enjoying his warm weight pushing me into the mattress.

  We drowse together for a while before I wake to find him bundling us in under the covers. He yawns in my ear as he curls up behind me and wraps an arm over me. “Get some rest,” he purrs in my ear. “I’m definitely not done with you yet.”

  I smile, and murmur sleepily, “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”

  Chapter 12

  Drake

  As it turned out, it took six hours for the storm let up and the streets to clear enough for the police to come collect all our half-frozen mobsters. Marcone himself went missing—word on the street says that Yoshida is after him along with the police.

  Which is why my dear little Robin and I leaked the list of safe house addresses to the both of them.

  Two weeks later, and he’s still hiding. We’ve got a bet running on who will find him first. I say the police; she says Yoshida. We’ll see who wins—the loser gets blindfolded and tied to a bed. Which is another way of winning, but we both like leaving it to chance.

  Not so the fate of her twenty thousand or the displaced tenants who were once her neighbors. I’ve been helping Robin with that, as has my team. The more that we get done, the more free time she has—for me.

  It’s around midnight, and we’re in bed again after a long day of saving lives with my money. The marks from her nails still sting my back, and she’s a warm, soft, sleepy ball curled against my chest. My nose is buried in her hair as I listen to her soft breathing.

  I’ve never been more content in my life.

  I haven’t had any nightmares since before our first night together. The kid in that prison yard is done growing up, and something in my head has finally sorted out that I’m free of that place for good. Now maybe my heart can move on, just as the rest of my life has.

  Now and again, though, Robin still has nightmares of her own, and cries softly in her sleep. She’s told me about the box that served as her shelter, and the men in the alley, and how alone she felt then. I’ve decided to make sure that she never feels that way again.

  It’s so strange that we switched places in our lives: the heiress turned thief, and the thief turned wealthy man. Yet somehow, we work together.

  We have a lot to do. There are people to save—and people to get revenge on. I’m already planning to cause some trouble for her uncle, who has been sending her several nervous, unanswered messages since the first paparazzi photos of the pair of us together started making the rounds.

  He must recognize me. And he must know that in me, Robin has an ally far more powerful than her uncle ever dreamed. That’s big trouble for him.

  I wonder how he’s sleeping. Probably not well.

  I’m settling back in and closing my eyes when my phone buzzes on the shelf beside my bed. I reach for it as Robin stirs.

  It’s a message from John. As she uncurls and rolls toward me, stretching against my body, I read the text, and smirk.

  Marcone gave himself up to police after receiving a…request…from Yoshida regarding the return of his missing Bitcoin. It was apparently delivered to one of his safe houses by courier. He’s asking for protection.

  I start laughing, and Robin yawns and stretches against me, blinking up at me curiously. “What is it?”

  “You’re not going to believe this, but…” I show her. “Looks like our little bet ends in a tie!”

  She scratches behind her ear, her emerald hair mussed with sleep. It’s growing on me, though I don’t think I’ll be sporting the merman look myself anytime soon.

  She starts snickering as she reads the text. “If it’s a tie, though, who gets tied?”

  I rumble contentedly and nuzzle her cheek, then lie back and draw her slight form over me. “We’ll have to take turns.”

  It’s a cold world out there; we’re both intimately familiar with that. But we’re making our own warmth together. I still hate being stolen from—but if I get Robin in return, she can take as much from me as she wants.

  The end.

  The Dom's Songbird

  A Billionaire BDSM Romance

  Dark and dangerous desires run wild at the exclusive seaside resort owned by Donovan Fox. He's a wealthy man with the world at his fingertips, and frankly he's bored with it all. Then he takes possession of the penthouse, and meets his own employee, Gwen Lovett, a sweet-faced aspiring singer. Then he learns that there's something about Gwen that pulls him in like a magnet, and Gwen learns that Donovan wakens something inside her that takes her breath away as much as it scares her.

  Can the billionaire and the songbird waitress cross the dark waters together and learn how deeply they can love?

  When it comes to romance and love, Donovan Fox, powerful hotel magnate just says “no thanks.” He likes his women worldly and as good at the game as he is, so when he runs into a sweet and shy waitress pressed into unexpected room service, he thinks she's adorable and not much else.

  However, Gwen Love's got a voice like an angel, a spirit that rises up no matter what knocks her down, and a sensual streak that speaks to something darkly primitive in Donovan's own usually cold heart.

  It becomes Donovan's sole mission to seduce the blond chanteuse into his bed, but while he isn't looking, Gwen find her way into his heart instead. Can the billionaire and the songbird find a place where their song will truly be heard?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Gwen

  It was the sweet lull after the lunch rush had died down and the dinner rush hadn't yet to begin. We were supposed to be rolling up more silverware for the tables, but instead, Andrea and Carly and I were taking a little break in the tiny courtyard outside of the restaurant. Carly was hiding a cigarette in her hand, Andrea was fighting with her mom on Facebook, and I was just trying to recover from the press of people from lunch.

  "You look like hell, hon," Carly said, glancing at me. "Did you stay up all night again?"

  I grinned ruefully. "Not all night.”

  Andrea looked up from her phone to frown at me.

  "I would feel better about that if you were actually staying up for something fun. Was it more music?"

  I made a face, and Carly chuckled. "That song about the girl and the bird and the man again?"

  I sighed, which was as good as saying yes. "It's coming along. I just want it to be perfect, and... it's not."

  Andrea snorted. "No such thing as perfect in this world. Not when there are bills to pay. Get it good enough, and move on."

  I knew that Andrea was right. People didn't make livings off of perfect songs. They wrote a lot of songs, refined their skills, sang their heads off whenever they could, and over time, if they were lucky, if they were clever and quick enough, they might make it.

  I wasn't built that way, however. I wanted this song to be perfect, and despite all the evidence to the contrary, I thought maybe I could get it there. Maybe if I just put in enough work, enough time, enough long nights...

  Carly interrupted my thoughts with a gentle elbow in my ribs and a nod towards the atrium. Across from the restaurant in the courtyard was the hotel lobby, where we could see jet setters from all over the world checking in. The sunny Florida beaches brought all sorts of people to the Fox Hotel, Resort and Suites, but I could tell who Carly was pointing at right away.

  "Well look at that," said Andrea, impressed.

  The man walking into the hotel was handsome, but then it was a high-end luxury resort. We saw handsome people every day. This man was different. He was in his late thirties or early forties with a lean body that was only emphasized by his well-cut linen suit. His dark hair was a stark contrast to the pale suit, sleeked back in a fashionable cut, and when he smiled, his white teeth flashed. For just a moment, I was convinced that he had seen us, or rather, seen me. Our eyes locked, and in the back of my mind, I not
ed that his eyes seemed as dark as his hair, almost sinister.

  Then he half-turned to greet a gorgeous redhead in an emerald designer dress—one that looked like it would cost a year of my salary, bare minimum—and to offer his arm and a quick kiss. I stifled a sigh. Of course it was ridiculous that he had even noticed me for a moment; whoever he was, he didn't keep company with cheap little waitress.

  The three of us watched as he crossed the lobby and was greeted by a dark-haired woman who looked fresh out of the pool, clad in a long and flowing robe. My eyebrows shot up to my hairline as I saw him offer her a kiss.

  "Oh come on," I muttered. The man, a gorgeous woman on either arm, merely nodded at the concierge and swept towards the elevators to the penthouse suites.

  "Well, that was like being visited by royalty," Carly said shaking her head, and at my confused look, she added, "That was Donovan Fox."

  "The owner of the hotel?" That was an admitted surprise. I had been working at the hotel for almost two years, and had never given its owner much thought. I was too making ends meet. If it did ever cross my mind, I just assumed he was a stuffy older man with a golf habit. The man we had just seen in the lobby might have been a golfer, but that certainly wasn't the game he had in mind just now.

  Andrea laughed at the slight blush on my cheeks.

  "Awww, does baby girl not know that she's working for a damned Casanova?" she cooed. "That man gets more tail than all the Kennedys combined."

  "Stop it, you're embarrassing her," Carly chided. "I’m surprised that you've never seen him around here before, Gwen. He shows up, usually with a beautiful woman or two on his arm, checks to make sure things are going well, and then moves on after a few weeks. He gets treated like a king, but he does tip well."

  "That's good, I guess," I said dubiously, and Andrea threw an arm over my shoulders.