Avenge Me

by Maisey Yates

  “I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “Come here.”

  She was across the car from him, her seat belt buckled. She pressed the button slowly and then put her hands on the seat, crawling to him slowly, on her hands and knees.

  Everything in him tightened to the point where he thought he might break. It was the practical way to move across the car; he knew that. But there was something about it that grabbed him by the throat and shook him hard.

  His eyes dropped to her breasts, emphasized by the motion, pale and round, spilling over the top of her black dress. Her red lips were parted slightly and it was so easy to imagine them wrapped around his cock. And her hair loose, wrapped around his hand...

  Not yet.

  He captured her face and leaned in, kissing her firmly, his tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth, delving in deeply when she parted for him. A muffled sound escaped her and he captured it, kissing her harder.

  Lust, need, fired through him. All heat and desire, the kind he’d never known had existed before. He’d tasted it. On the edge of dreams, with fantasy women, when he woke up, sweaty and wrapped in his sheets, slick with shame and release.

  But never in reality. Because he’d always held a part of himself back. And he’d imagined he always would.

  Not tonight.

  He kept kissing her, their bodies separate, need roaring through him. He wanted to tug her up against him, to feel those delicious curves pressed against his body, but he was determined to wait.

  Determined to prolong the torture because there was something about it—this lust that bordered on pain—that appealed to him in a way that was beyond description. Beyond comprehension.

  It wasn’t even his own deprivation that mattered. It was hers. She wanted more. And he wasn’t allowing her to have it. He had her on the brink with just a kiss, and he knew it. And he had the power to deny her pleasure, and right now he was using that power.

  The car stopped and he pulled away from her. “Ready?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “You get out first,” he said.

  She did, as she slid past him and opened the car door. She got out and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for him as people walked past, her breath a cloud in the cold air.

  He got out, shutting the door behind him. “Walk ahead of me,” he said. “I want to watch you.”

  She did, and he followed, his eyes on the elegant curve of her neck, the delicate line of her spine. And her ass. So round and perfect.

  She went through the revolving door of the hotel and into the lobby, and he continued in behind her. He liked this. Liked the feeling that she was putting on a show, in public, meant only for him.

  Her legs demanded at least an hour devoted to a fantasy starring them exclusively. Sky-high black pumps emphasized the length and the sleek muscles. The seams of her stockings—damn, he hoped they were stay-ups—centered so perfectly in the backs of her calves, a tease, a hint that she was some sort of sweet old-fashioned girl. Which made him want to do bad things to her even more.

  He could picture her now, without the dress, stockings and shoes on, bent over a piece of furniture, just waiting for him to take her....

  That was going to happen. At some point tonight, he would be sure that it did.

  Another damned elevator.

  She got inside and leaned back against the walls. The doors started to close and he had to jog to make it in time. He stuck his arm in between them, then slipped inside, letting the doors slide shut behind him.

  “That was naughty,” he said.

  Her cheeks colored and she met his gaze. “Sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you going out of your way to misbehave?” he asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s almost like you want some consequences,” he said, his voice tight, making it almost impossible to breathe. He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

  Except that it was hard to think with all of his blood just south of his belt.

  But fantasies, erotic images, didn’t require much thought. He could think of so many ways to punish her....

  No. He had to have a limit.

  “If I did?” she asked, sounding breathless. Excited. Aroused.

  Damn. This woman was a lit match against a pool of gasoline inside of him. Sitting there, dormant and under control for so many years.

  Yeah, he’d known it was there, but he’d done his best to ignore it.

  But with her, he was on the verge of exploding. And it was too late to go back.

  “I can give them to you, baby, but I’m not sure exactly what you expect.”

  “I’m not sure, either. Only that...you make me want things... I don’t know what I want,” she said, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ll have to show me.”

  The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He took her hand in his again, her fingers icy now. Nerves. It made him feel like the asshole he very likely was.

  He was a stranger. Much larger than her. And here he was, taking her back to a hotel to play power games that not even he knew the boundaries to.

  He might just have a spot in hell next to his father yet. The kind of man who said he only wanted to protect women, while he used and manipulated them.

  No. This isn’t the same.

  Isn’t it?

  He shut down that thought and held her more firmly, walking toward the room and checking his phone before keying in the code on the ornate door.

  “Ladies first,” he said.

  Katy shivered as she walked into the hotel room. There was nothing restrained or modern about their surroundings. It was like a vampire whorehouse. Black fleur-de-lis wallpaper gilded with ornate sconces. A sumptuous bed with deep purple velvet pillows and a black bedspread. Everything about it screamed dark seduction, which was appropriate, since that was what she was in the middle of.

  And she didn’t know what she’d been thinking. Not in the car when she’d crawled over to him, not in the elevator when she’d tried to... Had she been trying to make him angry?

  No. Because she hadn’t really thought it would make him angry. But she’d thought it might provoke a reaction.

  Earn her the threat of punishment.

  And there was something about it that she liked. Something about the edge of danger that was wrapped in gauzy sensuality that she found irresistible.

  Something that made it feel real and present. It was a desire she’d always known she’d had, but had never, ever been brave enough to go and get.

  Until him.

  This moment, this man, was like coming up to the surface for air after years of being held underwater. And all she could do was gasp for breath. Take in everything she possibly could.

  Because it wouldn’t last. This feeling, this moment, wouldn’t—couldn’t—last.

  He closed the door behind them, the sound so final. Strangely arousing. Because this was it. The point of no return.

  And she didn’t want to stop anyway.

  She turned to face him, his eyes dark. In that moment, she felt she saw this man, this stranger, in a more honest light than she’d ever seen anyone else in her life.

  Her parents were always lost in a drug haze. Sarah wrapped up in her ambitions, working to make a life for them, away from the hellhole they lived in. Trey in the safety net of anger that kept him from having to feel just what a horrible life they had.

  And as for her? She hid everything. Even from herself.

  But this man was looking at her, stark and hungry, in pain. He was stripped bare, standing there in his custom suit. All the expensive fabric a
nd elegant tailoring couldn’t conceal the fact that he was a man on the edge.

  And everything in her responded to that fact.

  Maybe because it forced her into honesty. Because it made her have to break through the glass case she surrounded herself in. Keeping everyone and everything at a distance so that she could simply make it through life. So that she could make it through to the end without falling into the dark places she used to be.

  Because she had no choice but to make it to the end.

  To her revenge. To her justice.

  Her entire life was lived for someone else. All of her desires sealed away safely.

  Until now. Until this moment.

  That was why she wanted it all. Every emotion in this one experience. Why she wanted it intense and dark and everything she’d ever wanted sex to be.

  Because this was all she would get. This night. This man. And then it was back to living for other people.

  Back inside her glass case.

  Not tonight. Tonight she was simply going to follow his orders. And whatever it made her feel would be for her. Not anyone else.

  Confessing ignorance. Asking for help. They were two things she never did. Normally she would rather chew glass. But this...game. Whatever it was. This thing with him made it okay. It made it feel right. It made it feel okay.

  More than that, it felt like a release in and of itself. The slow removal of a weight she hadn’t known she’d been carrying.

  “Stand against the wall,” he said.

  She did, because obeying him gave her a sort of illicit thrill. “Now what?”

  “I want to see you without that dress.”

  “You don’t want to kiss me first?” she asked, feeling nervous.

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “Take off your dress for me. Now.”

  She put her arm behind her back and gripped her zipper with shaking fingers, drawing it down slowly, her breathing harsh and unsteady, her heart thundering in her ears.

  The bodice went slack, sliding down and revealing her breasts, covered by a black satin push-up bra that was doing her a whole lot of favors.

  His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched tight as his hand drifted to the bulge at the front of his slacks. His fingers drifted along the ridge there and she had to squeeze her thighs together to try to assuage the answering ache between her legs.

  “The rest,” he said, his voice rough.

  She pushed the dress down her hips on her exhalation, and let it pool at her feet. She kicked the dress aside, leaning against the wall. The velvet fleur-de-lis and satin that covered the wall was both warm and cool against her skin.

  She lifted her hands to the front clasp of her bra.

  “No,” he said, his hand pausing over his clothed erection. “Leave it. Everything else stays for now.”

  He approached her slowly, a predator stalking his prey. His movements liquid and powerful. He extended his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek.

  “I think I first saw you two hours ago,” he said. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for you for a lot longer than that.”

  “Forever, even,” she said, her heart pounding hard, virginal nerves starting to get the better of her.

  What had she gotten herself into? This was a situation, a man, way above her pay grade.

  But he’s the man you deserve. After waiting so long. After working so hard for everyone else. You haven’t felt anything for so long. And he’ll make you feel it all.

  Her inner selfish heathen was determined to have her way tonight, and damn the consequences.

  He moved to her, pressing his body against hers, her back firm against the wall. He leaned in, kissing her hard, his mouth savage, demanding. He cupped her face, blunt fingertips digging into her skin as he took possession of her with his lips, teeth and tongue.

  She kissed him back, helpless to do anything but answer his every demand.

  She’d never even conceived of a kiss like this. Filled with so much desperation. So much need.

  The need to control, the need to submit. The need to possess and the need to yield.

  It was everything, and it all blended together. His needs and hers. It was a perfect storm, and it was happening around them. In them.

  He lowered his head, lips on her neck, her collarbone. He cupped her breasts, lowered his head and slid the flat of his tongue down between the valley of her breasts.

  She arched into him, her shoulder blades still against the wall, a hoarse cry rising in her throat.

  “How should I punish you?” he asked, scraping his teeth along the plump curve of her breast before soothing it with his tongue. “With pleasure? With pain? Or do you like both?” He bit her again, harder this time, the shaft of pure, undiluted lust it sent through her far more shocking than the sting he left behind.

  “I like whatever you want to give me,” she said, shocked by the huskiness in her tone. By the confidence in the statement.

  “That’s what I want to hear.” He grabbed the cup of her bra and tugged it down. “You are beautiful.” He rubbed his thumb over the tip of her nipple, drawing it into a point so tight it hurt in the best way possible.

  Yes. She liked whatever he wanted to give.

  And it made all of this so easy.

  He tugged the other side of her bra down and squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, increasing the pressure until she had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering from the pain.

  “You like it,” he said, not a question.

  She nodded.

  “Good. I like it, too,” he said. “I like that I can push it to the edge with you. That you want me enough that it all feels good. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  A rush of warmth burst through her. “Yes.”

  “I bet I know what you want,” he said.

  “Do you?”

  “You want to come.”

  His words sent a shaft of heat—embarrassed and aroused—through her. “Well, doesn’t everyone?”

  He chuckled, low and sexy. “I suppose. But that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want to...” She’d never said anything like this out loud before. “I want to c-come.”

  “Have I mentioned,” he said, not addressing what she said at all, “that I was dying to see you in these stockings and heels?”

  “No...”

  “I was.” He slid his finger along the lace top of her stay-ups. “So sexy. And these...” He moved his index finger to the top of her panties and dipped it beneath the thin black fabric. She could hardly breathe. Her body felt like it was going to burst into flame at any moment. “These are perfect. But—” he slipped his hand down inside, his palm barely skimming the most intimate part of her as he pushed her underwear down her legs “—I don’t think you’ll need them for a while.”

  He cupped her then, sliding his fingers across her slick flesh, one pressing inside of her. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

  He rocked his palm against her clitoris as he pushed his finger in deep, sending a shock wave of sensation through her.

  He dropped down to his knees and kissed her stomach, leaning in then and removing his hand, flicking his tongue over her clit while his finger worked in time with the strokes.

  “Oh...” She laced her fingers through his hair and held her to him, her head back against the wall as she warred between trying to figure out how she’d gotten here tonight, mostly naked, with a man on his knees in front of her, and just trying not to black out.

  She held him tight to her, flexing her hips and chasing her release. She was close...so close...

  “Enough,” he said. “Not yet.”

 
“No,” she said, tightening her hold on his hair.

  “You aren’t in any position to give orders,” he said, moving away from her and standing. She wanted to cry with frustration now.

  “I need...”

  “I know what you need,” he said. He started to loosen his tie, undoing the knot and letting it drape over his shoulder. Then he shrugged his coat off. Undid his cuffs. It was maddening to watch. Each detail meticulous, far too slow and utterly arousing.

  She didn’t want to watch him do the world’s slowest striptease. She wanted him to touch her again. Taste her again.

  “We do need some rules,” he said. “Because I want control, but I don’t want to hurt you. Not really. If you need me to stop, you tell me to stop. Just say the word. Don’t think it. Don’t hope it. Say it. I want control, but not force. Do you promise to tell me to stop?” There was something in his eyes when he said that, something that tugged at her. And there was a strand of fear in his voice.

  As if he were truly afraid she would let him go too far.

  And she realized something. He wanted control, but only the control she would give him.

  That was her power. He needed this from her, but she had to be willing to give it. She had to trust him enough that she believed he would stop if she asked.

  She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said, the word rough. “Now, on the bed.”

  “What...now?”

  “On the bed,” he said. “Don’t talk unless I tell you to. Get on the bed, in your high heels and stockings, and spread your legs for me.”

  She kept her eyes on his, because she had a feeling she wasn’t permitted to look away, as she got onto the massive bed. She lay back, breathing difficult now as she put her feet as flat as she could.

  Her sky-high shoes almost lifted her rear up off the mattress, leaving her feeling extra exposed. Exceedingly vulnerable.

  She’d never been naked in front of a man before. Ever. And this didn’t follow any guidebook she’d read for sex. Didn’t evoke any of the random novels she’d thumbed through looking for the good stuff.

  But what she wanted never had. But that hadn’t stopped her from wanting it.