VICIOUS MEN: THE COMPLETE VICIOUS CITY COLLECTION

by Renard, Loki

  “You can’t hurt me,” she moans, her teeth nipping at my neck. “The only way you could hurt me was if you stopped being with me.”

  We kiss, and I caress her, trying to settle her down. It has the opposite effect. Her hunger is as intense as mine. She wants me, and I need her.

  “You asked me once, what we were,” I say. “I tell you what we are, what I want you to be. Mine. Forever.”

  She smiles up at me. “Does that mean you want marriage too?”

  “Marriage is nothing compared to how I intend to own you, Kitty.”

  I spread her legs, bury my face between them, the tip of my tongue finding her lower lips. She arches toward me, her sex eager for my touch, her sweet juices already flowing at the merest touch of my tongue.

  I taste her, devour her. I trace every line and fold of her pussy, whipping her into a slow sexual frenzy. The first day we met, I chained her to the wall and I whipped her until she came. I no longer need a whip where she is concerned. She is so much more responsive now. Her obedience comes willingly as she submits not just to me, but to the thing between us, a powerful dynamic which I am sure would cross all boundaries, even those of death.

  Suckling her clit lightly between my lips, I listen to the music of her moaning, and relish in her wholehearted submission.

  Blaze

  “Naughty girl,” Slick chides me. I am on my knees before him, my neck encircled by his collar, my legs spread, the tip of his cane between them, tickling my clit.

  I can’t help a little grin. I am naughty, and never more than when he tries to make me behave.

  “Quite a delayed honeymoon,” he muses, letting me grind against the hard line of the cane between my legs.

  “Not my fault. Blame Kitty.”

  “I will never blame anyone else for your mischief, Blaze,” he promises me with a throaty chuckle. “Do you regret the marriage?”

  “What?” My eyes widen in surprise. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “You fought me,” he says. “You refused me for so long, until…”

  “I thought you were some kind of fucking spook.”

  “I am some kind of fucking spook.”

  “Well, now I know that’s a good thing,” I moan, the tip of the cane using my wetness against me, slipping between the soft lips of my sex.

  “Oh?”

  “Mhm. You’re a ruthless sick fucker, Slick.”

  The cane leaves my pussy and taps my inner thigh. “Language, Blaze.”

  “English language,” I smart back, tempting a stronger strike which does not immediately come. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was concerned,” he says. “After what happened with your ex, you wouldn’t respond to this anymore, that it would be too much like that…”

  “This is nothing like what he did,” I say, my smile fading. “He hated me because I wasn’t his. He hurt me to prove something to himself. This is different, Slick. You do this because I let you.”

  He nods, gliding the cane up and down the inside of my thigh. “That is true,” he acknowledges. “All of this happens because you need it, and you want it. If you ever stop wanting it, you tell me. It stops.”

  He’s so fucking sweet.

  I reach for the cane, wrap my hand around it and hold it against my sex. “I want this, Slick. I need it. I need everything you have. It’s gonna take everything, you know that, right?”

  He draws himself fully erect and nods, tapping the floor in front of me. “Hands out. Face down. Ass up.”

  The position exposes me, makes me vulnerable, and gives him full access to my ass. The cane lays lightly across my cheeks for a second, then slips away and returns with a hard CRACK, sending a burst of pure pain through my body.

  “You’re right,” he says from on high. “I do need to be ruthless when it comes to you.”

  “Owww!”

  Kitty

  “Mmmmmm…”

  Vicious is working magic between my thighs, his mouth hot against my sex, massaging every part of my pussy toward climax. I am arched against the bed, my thighs quivering with impending orgasm.

  My fingers curl in his hair as he lifts his head, those wicked green eyes capturing my soul.

  “What do you want, Kitty?”

  “I want to cum….”

  He lashes his tongue against my sex, a near punishing stroke of that hot wet appendage which has become the center of my world.

  “I think you’ve been a good enough girl to cum,” he drawls before turning his tongue back to soft circles around the bud of my sex. He’s tormenting me in the sweetest way, taking me to the very edge of climax before slipping away. I feel like my pussy is on fire with need, every part of my existence focused on the need for orgasmic release.

  “Pleasseee….” I moan. “Please, Vicious…”

  He pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers, slipping two inside me, twisting them slowly, mimicking the penetration I truly need.

  “Why…”

  This is an exquisite torture, and I don’t understand it. I deserve to cum, don’t I? I’ve been a good girl.

  “I’ve been good, so good…”

  Slick

  “You were a bad girl,” I lecture, whipping the cane down across Blaze’s bottom.

  We are not done for what she did in Russia. Not one little bit. A little spanking is never going to get the message through to her, nor is pain alone. I am not like the brute who hospitalized her. This is discipline delivered with precision, and a point.

  “I know,” she gasps, her breath sucked between her teeth in a hiss.

  She’s so fucking wet. Her ass is lightly marked with six lines of the cane. Six times she has lifted her rear for me. Six times she has taken the stroke willingly, six times she has welcomed the pain.

  I drop the cane and move behind her. I need to be inside her. I need to feel her wet cunt wrapped around me. I need to claim my goddamn wife.

  Vicious

  Kitty is everything. My beginning. My end. My entire world. I pull my fingers from her sex, put my lips to her pussy and her orgasm flows into my mouth, her juices covering my tongue.

  Now it is my turn. My cock is rock hard, finding the soft, hot slit of her sex unerringly as she spreads her legs and invites me in with a kittenish look.

  “Mine,” I say, gripping her hair and tilting her head back.

  Mine. With every stroke of my cock.

  Mine. With every beat of my heart.

  Mine. With every breath I take.

  Kitty

  I love him so much. In the aftermath of our lust, we lie in bed, limbs entwined, bodies pressed so close together there is no space between us. I can smell the sex on his skin, and mine. Our juices and sweat gleam on our bodies, physical manifestations of the bond we share.

  Vicious caresses my hair gently, brushes the bright colors back from my face and he murmurs what sounds like a sweet nothing, until my brain processes the actual words.

  “I’m going to lie to you.”

  “Awww… wait… what?”

  “I’m going to lie to you when I need to,” he repeats. “I’m going to do what I think is best for you, and you might not always like that, but I’m going to do what’s necessary. I’m going to be as ruthless as I’ve ever been, Kitty. There are no white picket fences in your future with me, and I’m not letting you go.”

  I sit up and look at him. “Why are you saying this? Everything was so nice…”

  “Because I want to be honest in my dishonesty,” he drawls, putting his hands behind his head. “I want you to know what your life with me will be like - and perhaps, I suppose, I’m giving you some sporting chance of escaping it. In this bedroom, between us, everything is real. Once we step outside, I promise very little.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re trying to tell me something, aren’t you.”

  “I believe I’ve been fairly clear.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “Something else is a lie. That’s what you’re trying to
tell me. Something else that happened to me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, but…” I cast my mind back over events. Where’s the lie? The CIA is real enough. The Russians were certainly real. I watched them die. If something is fake, then it’s something… Oh I know. Something that has been bothering me ever since I asked Slick and he refused to answer. I look at Vicious, my eyes going wide. “The fucking brain surgeon.”

  “Hmm?”

  “That wasn’t real. That was a set up. Wasn’t it.”

  He raises a brow. “Well,” he says. “It was real to a certain… oof!”

  I pick my pillow up and slam it down on his face as hard as I can.

  “You DICK!”

  Vicious pushes the pillow from his face. “It was my attempt to make you realize there was real danger in the hopes that we could avoid the Russians if you could be controlled. You weren’t listening to me.”

  “So you had me kidnapped. And Coco was in on it.”

  “Yes, and a few other associates of mine, people you haven’t met ye… oooFFF!”

  I bring the pillow down hard against his stomach.

  “Cut that out, Kitty.”

  I smack him with the pillow again, and not lightly. I am putting all my strength into it as I flail the soft stuffed surface against his impossibly hard form, until he grabs it in one big hand and yanks it away from me, flipping over and using the weight of his leg to pin me to the bed.

  “Don’t be angry, Kitty. It won’t get you anywhere,” he smirks down at me.

  “Don’t be a pussy. Don’t sneak and hint and lie to me, just tell me the fucking truth.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “The truth is far more dangerous, in general, than lies. Nobody tells the truth, Kitty.”

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t. You lie to yourself constantly. Right now, you’re not angry that I set you up with a fake kidnapping…”

  “I’m pretty fucking sure I am…”

  “No. You’re angry that I didn’t leave you with that illusion. You see, Kitty, the fact that I tell you I lie is more truthful than anyone has been with you before. It takes away your cozy little illusions. It makes you face reality.”

  “No, Dr Freud,” I sigh. “You’re just rationalizing your dishonesty.”

  “I don’t have to rationalize a thing,” he smiles broadly. “If I wanted to take you and keep you prisoner, I could have done that. Instead, I gave you freedom, but helped you shape your perceptions so they could be more accurate.”

  “You’re a sociopath.”

  “Probably,” he agrees.

  His hand is sliding down my belly. His fingers slip over the cum soaked mound of my sex and two of them push inside my pussy.

  “The world is run by the ruthless, Kitty,” he says, stroking his digits slowly in and out of my aching sex. “And you are a sweet girl with innocent desires. The world will twist them against you, make you a slave. You can spend the rest of your life running on a treadmill for baubles, in debt for the basics of existence. Or, you can experience the freedom of the life I can give you.”

  His fingers plunge deeper, the heel of his hand massaging my clit. I am lost in the intensity of his gaze, the pure recklessness of his spirit.

  “Sometimes, lies are more true than truth itself,” he rasps against my ear as his palm starts to slap against my pussy, his fingers plunging in and out of me, driving me to an orgasmic revelation.

  Vicious is a devil and the world his is playground. I am his plaything, a toy he has taken to his bed and into his heart. I will forever be trapped in his desire, but I will not go easily. He will try to impose his order, but I will bring fresh chaos, and the clash of our wills and our bodies will satisfy us both in ways no conventional coupling ever could.

  He may be a liar. He may be a criminal. But I am equal to him, and I will grow to match him in wit and will.

  As fresh orgasm rips through me, I capture his lips in a violent kiss, finding rapture in the darkness of his vicious heart.

  “I’m going to get you back for that,” I gasp against his mouth.

  A deep chuckle escapes him and runs through the core of me.

  “Kitty, I’m counting on it.”

  VICIOUS REVENGE

  1

  “Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”

  “Far too late, Kitty.”

  Those unique green eyes sear into me with a mixture of lust, pity, and desire for pure revenge. I know I deserve this. I know it’s been coming for a long time. I’ve caused him more trouble than any other woman, maybe any other person in his entire life. He still loves me. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to hurt me.

  “These clothes are coming off.” He says it as a matter of fact. I have no choice in this. I forfeited my right to choose when I made him my enemy. A tremor of fear runs through me, but I know better than to resist. If I want to make amends, if I want to escape this prison I’ve found myself in, I have to show him three things: submission, obedience, and contrition. None of those things come naturally to me.

  He undresses me slowly, peeling the fabric from my skin. My clothes are the last vestiges of armor against him, and I feel the final shreds of my resistance going with them. He is wearing an impeccable suit. My nudity is a shame I will bear alone.

  I want to fall into his arms and beg forgiveness, but I can’t. There can’t be forgiveness yet. Not after everything I’ve done.

  “Turn around. Let me see you.”

  I turn slowly, feeling his eyes devour me. It has been so long since we were last intimate, our separation caused by mutual arrogance and my ill-fated madness. Vicious looks at me and I feel myself swallowed in his gaze. I am falling into him and he’s not even touching me.

  “I am sorry.”

  “I know,” he says softly, leaning back into the armless chair which is so ornate it looks almost like a throne. “Come here.”

  He reaches for me and I take his hand. I want to feel him against me. The brief touch of his palm is pleasure enough for all that will come once I am over his thighs.

  This all started because he told me he was going to lie to me. This time, he tells me the truth.

  “This is going to hurt.”

  * * *

  Weeks earlier…

  “This is a bad idea,” Blaze declares.

  She’s right, of course. But I have my own to get back on a certain English criminal mastermind, and I have to be bold about it. When it comes to messing with Vicious, I know I’m walking a dangerous line. He doesn’t need much in the way of encouragement to commit some seriously twisted acts, but nobody makes me think I’m going to be given a back-alley lobotomy and gets away with it.

  It has been a month or so since the chaos of my Russian abduction, and I am ready to follow through on the threat I made when I discovered the more twisted aspects of the way Vicious recruited me. He has been lying to me from the beginning, and he’s not sorry about it. Not at all.

  “You can’t tell Slick.”

  “Sure, let me keep a secret from my CIA agent husband. That’s totally doable,” Blaze rolls her eyes at me. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her pink socked feet sticking out under black jeans.

  “You’ve changed since you got married,” I sigh. “Where’s the girl who used to throw herself between balconies hundreds of feet in the air just to hang out with me?”

  “She got married to a man who is even more twisted than yours.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Oh yeah, it is.”

  I casually swing the vase I picked up before we started this conversation.

  “Okay, so. You’re going to tell Vicious that you came in, the window was broken, and I was gone.”

  Blaze waves her hands in a ‘stop’ motion. “Wait. This plan involves ME lying to his face?”

  “Well, yeah. To start off with.”

  “I’m out.”

  She’s out? Blaze is never out. />
  “Okay what the fuck has marriage done to you?”

  “Nothing,” she says.

  “Oh, it has done something.”

  “Maybe it’s stopped me being completely stupid?”

  “This isn’t stupid. You came in through the balcony to try to tell me Vicious was lying to me. That’s like three hundred feet up in the air. Now you won’t even tell him one little white lie?”

  Blaze tosses her hair and sighs. “Things change, Kitty. People change.”

  “No, they don’t.” When did I become the cynical one?

  “They do when they marry CIA agents who use canes.”

  I take a deep breath. She is married now and Slick is hyper protective. I understand why. In all the craziness which has ensued since I met Vicious, it’s Blaze who has been the worst hurt. Slick doesn’t want to see that happen again, and neither do I.

  “Fine,” I relent. “I’ll take care of this on my own.”

  I swing my arm back, and then whip it forward and send the vase crashing through a floor to ceiling window which looks out over the balcony. There’s no real need for this part of the plan. I just want there to be some drama to the occasion. I want him to walk in and find the glass shattered, just like the trust I had in him.

  “Right. I’m out of here.”

  “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.” Blaze follows me out the door. We run to the stairs and dash down. I feel a mischievous thrill running through me. Vicious is going to come home to a smashed window and a missing me. It’s going to freak him the fuck out, but he deserves it. He had me kidnapped and made me think I was going to be brain surgeried. At this point, anything I do is justifiable. I feel like I’ve been written a blank check for mayhem, and I’m writing in a whole bunch of zeroes.

  “Fuck, fucking, oh my god,” Blaze is muttering under her breath as we pile into the car I bought with cash. Vicious doesn’t know I got this. I’ve had it parked in a corner of the garage for a good week, waiting for my opportunity.

  “You have to drop me home,” she says. “Slick is gonna be back from work in less than an hour. I don’t want to have to answer any awkward questions about this.”