by Dani René
He doesn’t follow.
I don’t expect him to.
The ball is in my court.
7
Carrick
Yesterday has been on replay in my mind since Peyton walked out of my office. Our last and final kiss was the only thing left between us. She took the NDA and went on her way, leaving me wanting to follow. I have no idea what I’m doing. She makes me feel like a goddamn teenager who doesn’t know how to handle a woman. It’s ridiculous.
Her fire is intoxicating. I want her to burn me. To make me feel something other than the numbness that’s enveloped my life. From the outside, I come across as a domineering asshole, and that’s partly true, but deep down, at my core, I’m exactly what she called me—broken. Peyton sees me. Everything I hide, she seems to dredge up, and it makes me both angry and feral.
When my door flies open suddenly, I am met with Mason’s hard glare.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he grits out through clenched teeth. His jaw ticks in frustration as he regards me. The man is my height, almost six-five with broad shoulders encased in a blue button-up. His tanned Italian skin looks as if he’s been on vacation for months. He has a full head of black hair and stubble that looks like he hasn’t shaved this morning. His angry green glare tells me he knows something happened with Peyton.
Slamming the door behind him, he stalks to my desk. I’ve known him since I arrived in Chicago, and I’d trust him with my life. I know more about him than he even realizes. I always make sure to do background checks on everyone I plan to go into business with, and Mason’s had a rough life, but he got himself back on the straight and narrow, and now he’s one of the most successful men in the city.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lean back, my elbows on the arms of my chair, steepling my fingers under my chin as I regard him.
“Cut the shit, Rick. You’re going to train a submissive? And not just anyone, you’re offering to train Peyton?” I should’ve known the girls would have spoken about it. Perhaps Peyton needed to talk about what I’m offering her. She should have come to me. We’ll have to work on her trust issues. And her damn obedience.
“Yes, I am going to train Peyton,” I tell him with a nod.
“No. You’re going to tell her you made a mistake, and you’re no longer interested. Okay?”
I chuckle at his insistence. I’m not sure what the problem is. I’ve trained women before. Perhaps it’s because she’s so new to this lifestyle. This intricately woven web of darkness and desire that mingles like bourbon over ice. As I told Peyton, I’m not the trainer. Granted, I know how to do it. I’ve just never chosen to.
“This is none of your concern, Mason. My life. My rules. My woman.” I don’t know where the last two words fit into it, but for some reason, I feel the need to lay claim to Peyton. I told her this was no strings. I made it clear there would be no emotions, but with him forbidding me to take her as a sub, to train her, my feelings seem to skyrocket. He may be my friend, but the asshole will not tell me what I can or can’t do.
“She’s not yours. This girl has been through too much, Carrick. Normally, I don’t care what you do, but she’s like a little sister to me. And she’s not your type.” His words sting, but the memory of how she tastes has been getting me through the hours that have passed since last night.
“You don’t know my type,” I bite back, anger lacing every word. It’s not his fault for saying that. If I were him, I’d be telling myself the exact same thing. He thinks I have a type—brunette, curvy, with soulful brown eyes. What he doesn’t know is that the only woman who holds my heart was blonde, petite, and she had the most intense green eyes I’d ever seen.
The other thing he doesn’t know is, she’s dead. She was murdered in cold blood, and it’s my fault.
“I know that she’s too sassy for you. She’s got fire, and you love your women to roll over and heel for you. Peyton will never do that.”
Pushing up, I stalk toward him, getting in his face. It’s the first time we’ve ever had a standoff like this. A fight. But I’m not letting anyone forbid me to do anything again. “You’d be surprised by what she can do. Now, if you don’t have anything better to do than to come in here and piss me off, I’d like for you to leave.” With that, I turn and head back to my chair, flopping into it with a sigh.
“Fine. Do what you want, but do not, and I mean it, Rick, do not fucking break her heart.” He doesn’t wait for my response. He turns to leave, and I find myself alone inside my head.
“Aurora,” I call out to nothing. Silence greets me as I make my way into the apartment we’d been renting for the last six months. I know she said she was running late at work, but it’s hit ten already. “Tigress?” I call to her, stalking down the hallway toward the bedroom.
As soon as the door opens, my eyes are glued to the bed. There in red lace underwear is the woman who will wear my ring. She’s beautiful. Her long, blonde hair cascades over the pillows, her lips are plump, shimmering, and I lick my own wanting to taste her. Long, lithe legs casually settle on the dark blue bed sheets that set off her pale skin.
“Hello, Tiger.” She giggles as I drop my gun on the dresser where it will sit till morning. Pulling off my tie, I undo the silver cufflinks and set them down beside my holster and weapon.
Slowly, I unbutton my shirt as I regard her once more. “Did you want me to spank your pretty ass?” She nods, putting on the innocent expression I love on her. When she pushes up, I notice the way her bra shifts, causing her nipples to harden under the soft material.
“Where were you today?” she asks as I pull off my shirt, dropping it on the foot of the bed. Her gaze drops to the bandage covering my ribs. There’s no need to tell her because she already knows. A job her father sent me on was a bust. We had to get out of there quickly, but not before the asshole got a knife to my chest.
“Out. You know I can’t go into details, Tigress,” I tell her, crawling up the bed between her legs where I know I belong. A wince on my face tells her I’m still in pain, but there’s no way I’m not fucking her tonight. She can ride me. I love watching her above me, taking her pleasure. This is where I’m meant to be. It’s the only place I feel real, like a good man. One who doesn’t go out killing people.
“Well, come here. I’ll make you feel better,” she purrs as I kiss my way up her inner thighs. The smooth skin tantalizing as I suck and nibble on her flesh.
“Eating your sweet pussy will make me feel better,” I growl against the material covering her smooth lips. Her eyes meet mine in a lust-filled stare, and I can’t help the ravenous feeling that overcomes me. I need her. I’ll always want her. I love her.
I find myself smiling at the memory. The moment I knew she was my forever. That night I fell asleep inside her and woke up to her mouth around my cock. I don’t know what I’m doing with Peyton. Knowing how much she reminds me of Aurora is frightening, but it’s also her fire that pulls me in.
She’s not scared of me. That is clear in her words and how she challenges me. I’ve never felt so unsure about something, about someone. My phone buzzes, and before I grab it, I already know who it is. When I swipe my finger over the screen, her name is there, waiting for me.
It’s her answer.
I know it is.
My thumb hovers over the message app, not wanting to read her response. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t want her to refuse me. I want her. I want time with her, because for the first time since I broke, I suddenly feel an emotion that was lost to me—hope.
Swallowing my anxiety, I tap the screen, and I exhale a sigh at the word glaring at me.
Kitten: Yes
I tap out my response and hit send.
Me: Good girl. Tomorrow, midday, my office.
Time to go home. It’s been a long night, and I need to get some shut-eye. My sister arrives soon, I’ve got all the intel I need on Moran, and I need to make sure when I do pay a visit to the fucker, I’m ready.
/> I told Callan I’d sort it out, and I’m not one to break a promise. However, I have a feeling when my sister’s flight lands in a few days, my brother will be right there with her.
The wrath I know will course through my veins at seeing that asshole, Moran, will get me through what I need to do. It’s been a long road, but the image of Aurora’s blonde hair matted in crimson along with her porcelain skin, the pale blue dress she wore ripped and torn, soaked in blood is my fuel. It pushes me to do what I need to. One final kill. Then it’s goodbye to my past.
Night time used to be the worst. It was in the darkness that I would imagine her walking into the bedroom, looking me in the eye and telling me she’s not dead. That what I saw was a mistake. Those images play in my head, gripping me in both fear and elation. The thought of living a life without her when she’s alive and breathing slices through my heart and leaves me gasping for breath. Which is why I have a submissive in my bed each night. Not for the comfort of holding someone but finding a sleeping body beside me reminds me that I’m alone.
When you love someone so wholly and they’re ripped away, the cold, empty side of the bed haunts you. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m single, but it’s when I reach for someone and they’re not there, panic sets in.
When I wake to a stranger, I recall Aurora’s funeral, watching the coffin sliding into the furnace and walking away with a box of ash. Handing it to her parents the day after, I said goodbye and boarded a flight to America. I walked away from her, our memories, and I came here to lose myself in every woman I could find. To forget the pain. To hide the agony.
Closing my eyes, I lift my arm, draping it over my face so I can’t look at the red taunting numbers telling me it’s two in the morning. I don’t watch time as it clicks by. Each moment, every minute is another one reminding me I’ve wasted too much time not finding the vengeance to move on.
Revenge.
There was talk about Moran’s men living in Chicago, but they’ve been elusive for years. Hidden in the shadows. But when Callan told me I was right, and he is here, my fingertips tingle with the need to close the door to my past.
One more life to take. I’ve killed before; it’s not difficult. It becomes second nature when you’ve done it enough times.
Aurora’s memory is the only thing that will ensure I do make Moran pay for her death. She was my angel. A light in my darkest nights. With both our families deep in the vile depths of mayhem and murder, we’d always found solace in each other. She was trained, skilled with a gun, knife, and even a bomb. Nobody messed with her, not even me. As much as we loved each other, we knew that someday, one of us would no longer be there. No matter how long you train, how many times you pull the trigger, life is precarious.
Organized crime is a life of solitude, and I grew to understand that. And I accepted I’d forever be alone. Until my father and Aurora’s came to an agreement. To ensure their livelihood would remain intact, they wanted us to marry. As soon as my father told me about her when I turned twenty-one, I refused to do it. My life had been a party because I acknowledged my fate. With the money I had, my bachelor status was my ticket to endless pussy, booze, and whatever else would blur the horrific images of dead bodies that plagued my mind. But I realized that person I had become was forever changed the moment she came along.
When I admitted to wanting her, to agreeing to marry her, my family was shocked. They had even gotten so far as to ask Callan to take her as his wife. Which, of course, the asshole refused. He’s single, and I doubt he’ll ever find a woman who would put up with him.
Also, his playboy lifestyle means far too much to him to give up, and that brings my thoughts back to Peyton. To my new submissive. No. She’s not mine, she’s mine for now. My phone vibrates on the nightstand, causing me to jolt upright.
Her name flashes at me in the dark, and I don’t think twice about answering.
“Are you okay?” Those are the first words out of my mouth as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Panic flaring like a wildfire through my body. I’m awake in an instant when she doesn’t respond fast enough.
“I’m fine . . . I just . . .” Her words hang in the air, heavy, filled with . . . longing? Furrowing my brow in confusion, I relax, waiting for her to speak. “I’ve been awake all night, thinking about this thing between us.”
“And what were you thinking?”
“I’m nervous,” she admits, her voice low, husky, and I can tell she’s tired just from those few words. She must be exhausted. I know I am.
“It’s normal to be nervous. This life isn’t for everyone. I guess you could say it takes a lot of getting used to as well. I’ll take it slow. We can take each day as it comes, Peyton. If there’s anything you’re not comfortable with, you’ll call your safe word.”
She sighs through the line, causing my dick to harden in my boxers.
“Don’t do that,” I grunt, raking my fingers through my unruly brown hair.
“What?” I can picture her face scrunched in confusion. It’s cute. She’s cute. Too fucking beautiful for her own good. Her small button nose, those deep green eyes, and full pink lips that shine when her tongue darts over them.
“Don’t breathe down the line like that,” I warn her, my voice dropping into a feral growl.
“Why? Does it turn you on?” Her giggle is the next sound that has me groaning. Jesus, this woman is going to be the death of me.
“Yes. Stop.”
“What if I told you I was turned on by your voice? You sound angry, but sexy. It’s like you’re growling at me. Like an animal,” she says, her words lowering into a sweet yet sexy whisper in the earpiece, and I’m finding it difficult to ignore the fact that my boxers are now tenting.
“Kitten, I am an animal. I’m feral, dangerous, and deadly. Do you still want to play this game?” I rasp down the line. Hearing her soft gasp tugs on the restraint that I’m clutching onto. How she does this to me, I don’t know. I’m the one in charge of the toys I play with, but Peyton has a way of toying with me. Topping me from the bottom. She easily distracts me from what I want, what I need. Control.
“Then punish me.” Three little words, and I’m off the bed and tugging on my jeans.
“Where are you staying?” I ask, my tone rabid with hunger. My body is trembling with desire to take her, bend her over and whip her with my belt until her smooth, creamy skin is filled with red welts.
“Why?” Her question is murmured, curiosity filling it.
“Because I’m on my way to you now. And if you don’t tell me where you are, when I find you, it will be worse on that little ass.”
“I’m renting an apartment on the seventh floor of the Silver Leaf Apartment Building. Number seven-five-nine,” she whispers on a gentle moan which only sets me in motion faster than before.
Pulling on my trainers, I grip my thick black leather belt and feed it through the belt loops of my jeans. My white dress shirt I took off earlier is still on the floor. Once I have it in hand, I shrug it on.
“Good girl.” I hang up before she has time to respond, and I’m out the door and heading to my car without thinking. I don’t know what this girl is doing to me, but I want to find out how she feels around my cock, and I’m going to do it right fucking now.
I put the car in drive and head down the empty street, only passing a few cars on my way. The early morning is chilly, and I can’t help wondering how warm she’s going to feel. Soft and smooth. Her silky skin will be beneath me soon enough.
When I pull up to the building moments later, a valet makes his way out of the office and directly to me. I round the front of the car and give him a nod.
“Good morning, sir.” He offers a sleepy smile.
Chucking my keys in his direction, I tell him, “Look after her.” It’s all I can muster before making my way to the elevator, not bothering with acknowledging the sleepy security who's sitting in his small hidey hole office. I know where I’m going.
The long ri
de up to the seventh floor is slow. Anxiety churns in my gut. I want her. Too much. This isn’t good. The warnings are ringing in my mind, but I can’t stop now. I’ve already gone too far.
This time, even though I should walk away before we get attached, I can’t. I’m already feeling far too much. It’s too soon, but hearing her moan, gasp, and whisper on the line snapped all the control and restraint I normally possess.
When the metal doors slide open and spit me out onto the plush midnight blue carpet, I turn left and count the numbers on each door. When I reach the one I want, I lift a hand and offer three knocks. Sharp, abrupt, and commanding.
The door flies open and there, waiting for me in a pair of small pink panties and a white tank top that hugs every curve of her frame is the blonde, green-eyed kitten I’m about to devour.
“Carrick.” She utters my name on a moan which turns my blood molten. Lava races through my veins, heating every inch of my body. I’m hungry. I tamper down my savage, but I know soon enough, I’ll be taking her. Fucking her. I ache. And she’s the only thing that’s going to satiate my craving. I want to indulge in her, consume her. I’m a goddamn glutton, and this woman is going to be my end.
8
Peyton
He doesn’t say anything, merely drinks in my form with his golden eyes. As they roam my body inch by torturous inch, my skin prickles under his gaze. As if a match has been struck, I’m burning from the inside out. When he’s had his fill, he snaps those golden orbs back to my face then saunters forward, gripping my hips and tugging me against him.
Slowly, he drops his head. His full lips close to mine, so close I ache for him to kiss me. To devour me, but he doesn’t. Not yet.
“You’re a naughty kitten, Peyton. Do you know what I do to naughty kittens?” he breathes huskily. His warm, minty breath mixed with whiskey fans over me. It’s his own scent. Spicy, intoxicating, and addictive.
