by Maren Smith
He slapped his shaft against her ass before thrusting the entire length inside, tossing back his head and issuing a keening roar. Adrenaline pumped wildly in his veins, constricting his muscles as he plunged deep inside, using the strength of his thigh muscles to pummel into her wet cunt. He kept his fingers intertwined in her long strands of hair, the fingers of his other hand digging into her hip.
She arched her back, meeting every savage thrust, her breath sounds now animalistic.
Images from the past rushed into his mind, dragging him straight into the same private hell he’d fought to destroy. The only woman he’d ever cared about, stripped away, taken from his life. The only time he’d ever let down his guard. In his mind, Carmen was to blame. Yeah, karma was a supreme bitch.
He plunged harder and faster, skin slapping against skin, the massive bed creaking as sweat beaded across his forehead. His actions were wild, brutal and she accepted every primal thrust as if she’d been waiting her entire life for exactly this moment. Fear and self-loathing clamped around his throat, closing off his air supply. Panting, he tossed his head back and forth, his balls filling with cum, his shaft swelling.
Scarlet moaned, undulating her hips as he picked up the pace. “Oh!”
Grunting, he knew he would come soon and willed his body to obey. There were too many questions, bold images playing in his mind like motion pictures, jerking through every frame. Death was raw and pure. Death was the only real understanding. Removing his cock, he squeezed the base, twisting his hand until the friction reminded him he was very much alive.
“Fuck me, sir. Please.”
There was no need to answer. He placed his slickened cockhead between the cheeks of her ass, pushing until the tip was just inside. Using both hands, he cupped her breasts, his grip firm as he slid inside inch by inch.
“Oh…” Her voice rattled, she threw her head back, her face glistening, her mouth slack, her ass muscles clamping around his wide girth.
“Fuck,” he hissed, electricity shooting down the backs of his legs, rolling into the balls of his feet. On fire, he drove all the way inside, blinking several times. She was hot, her asshole tight and he wanted the single moment of personal bliss to last.
Scarlet slapped her hand on the bed, her face pinched from the pain. “I…”
“Now, you belong to me.” Inhaling, he pumped in slow and easy motions, savoring the intensity, the rush of full domination, her complete submission to him, to his will. A wave of satisfaction, even peace settling deep inside, allowing a smile to cross his face.
Jutting her hips backward, she stole a glance over her shoulder, her face pensive. “More.”
Chuckling, he smacked her ass several times. “You will experience much more, sweet kitten.” He kept his thrusts slow and even, pulling almost all the way out then plunging deep inside. Exhaustion mixed with euphoria until he was unable to hold back any longer. As cum rushed up from his testicles, filling his shaft, he was forced to accept the one thing that would no doubt end her life.
He was falling in love.
Chapter 5
“Now, you belong to me.”
As he lifted her chin with a single finger, she realized, gazing into his soulful eyes, that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him, no matter what he asked. “Yes, sir.”
“My sweet kitten.” Taking the leash, he guided her through the house on all fours, slowly taking the stairs and into their bedroom. “You are the love of my life.”
“Yes, sir. And you are mine.” As he stopped in front of the cage, she rubbed her face and head against his leg, purring.
“God, what you do to me.” He unlocked the cage door, swinging it open before unclasping the leash. “Time for bed, sweet kitten.”
Cassandra blinked, her eyes remaining heavy as she rubbed her face against something soft and cool, the visions from seconds before fresh in her mind. However, the dream wasn’t real. Shifting, she winced as she rolled over, the crisp sheets rubbing against her ass. After she became accustomed to the darkness, she put the pieces together. She’d stayed in Slice’s room, in his bed.
The clock on the nightstand read 3:30 in the morning. Turning her head, she was almost surprised to see his sleeping form, his chest rising and falling in a way she could tell he was fast asleep. She hadn’t expected anything like the experience in the afternoon, nor had she anticipated the man she’d called a monster to have any level of a conscience. However, she reminded herself that this could be a complete act. The way her body and mind responded to him, the warm simmer exploding into utter fusion had left her craving more, questioning her rational mind.
Shifting onto her side, she could just make out his features in the limited moonlight. He was far more attractive than she would have imagined. With a strong jawline and chiseled features, wavy black hair and a sculpted body, he seemed almost aristocratic, rather than a natural born killer. Yawning, she dared to brush just the tip of her finger across his cheek.
Murmuring in his sleep, he nuzzled into the pillow, now only inches from her face.
Unable to keep her eyes open, she curled on her side, placing her hand on his arm. He didn’t flinch or pull away and as she drifted off to sleep, she had a smile of contentment on her face.
Her eyes shot open, a different kind of tingling encompassing her entire body. The room was still completely dark, but a sliver of light came from the bathroom. A quick glance at the clock and she was surprised only forty-five minutes had passed. What had awakened her? The covers were pulled back, the other side of the bed empty. A muffled sound, no a voice came from behind the bathroom door. She crept closer to the end of the bed, craning her neck in order to listen. When he spoke, his words were riddled with anger.
“I don’t care and yes, I’m well aware of what I’m required to do.” Slice’s words seemed carefully selected.
She waited, holding her breath.
“Complications? You know what I do with complications. You do not tell me how to run my operation. That will never happen.” He swore under his breath, a hard thudding sound floating into the bedroom as if he’d slammed his hand down on the counter.
Cassandra scampered to crawl under the covers just as the door was flung open. He stood in the doorway, the garish bathroom light highlighting his still form, as if waiting to see if she had awakened. She feigned being asleep, her eyelids mere slits, but was able to see that he’d dressed in dark clothing.
After turning out the light, he padded to her side of the bed, peering down. He reached out, as if to touch her, then recoiled his hand. Seconds later, the dim light from the hallway indicated he was leaving.
The second she heard the door click, she rolled out of bed, tiptoeing toward the door. She counted to five before opening and glancing out into the empty corridor. Wherever Slice was going, he was certainly in a hurry. She closed the door with a soft click before taking long strides, yanking the robe from the floor. Her room was merely around the corner, a benefit. She grabbed her clothes, finding the small pouch built into the costume and secured her keycard.
She had maybe ten, fifteen minutes tops before she knew he’d return and he wouldn’t take kindly to the fact she was missing. Leaving the door ajar, she raced around the corner, heading for her room, throwing the card into the slot. When she was safely inside, she rushed to turn on a light and grab her phone. Even in this hour of the morning, Sheila would no doubt be monitoring her calls.
“Come on. Come on.” Cassandra remained in a cold sweat.
“You were supposed to call when you arrived,” Sheila stated, her tone carrying a distinct edge.
“The Castle runs a tight schedule. There was no time, especially when I was paired with Slice as my companion for the weekend.” She heard the slight gasp and cringed.
“What? You are kidding me?”
“No. What are the odds?” She grabbed her suitcase from the closet, tossing it across the bed. At this point, she was going to need all the protection she could get. Pressing the sp
eaker button on her phone, she placed it on the dresser.
“That’s it, Cass. We need to abort the mission. Your cover has been blown. Far too risky.”
She located her handgun, pulling out the clip, her hands shaking. “I don’t think you want me to do that since I think Mr. Massino and Slice are actually working together on this particular operation.”
“You’re certain of this?” Sheila demanded.
“As certain as I can be. While everyone wears disguises, The Butcher is here, and I overheard a discussion he had with Slice. I can confirm that The Butcher is here to kill the witness. Have you confirmed that Grace Barnes is in the Castle?”
“As you can imagine, her whereabouts are being kept on the hush-hush. No one is talking at this point, including our informants. For all practical purposes, Miss Barnes has all but disappeared. However, if two assassins are working together, then you can be certain there will be additional bloodshed. I’m pulling you off this case and calling the local authorities. They can handle this bullshit.”
“No,” Cassandra said defiantly.
“And you will follow orders.”
“This is the only chance we have to arrest two significant players. Slice has no idea who I am, so I have a distinct advantage.”
“And you have zero way of confirming his identity. That is, unless he spills his guts to his submissive.”
The words rang true. She could be completely off her game at this point, blindsided by a good-looking man with a penchant for danger. “I’m following my gut, Sheila. This is as close as we’ve ever been. I know what I’m doing. Trust me for once.”
“This isn’t about trust, Cass. This is about your life. Do you honestly think that Carmen Massino will allow you to live if he finds out who you really are?”
“I can handle him.” Cassandra slipped the magazine into place, holding her Glock in both hands.
Sheila exhaled. “While I appreciate your exuberance, this isn’t the kind of case you can handle alone. Massino is bound to be working with someone at the Castle. He has powerful friends in all the right places.”
“Then connect me with the other five or ten officers and agents that are running around this elaborate castle. They stick out like a sore thumb. Some undercover operation. All amateurs and you can bet, every criminal in the state of Ohio is keeping a wide berth from Georgia, the Southern peach from South Carolina, who just happens to crave having three men whipping her. Or perhaps Master Ronald, who has utterly no idea how to control himself out of a paper bag. You forget how observant I am. I suggest you call your buddies from other FBI departments and get them the hell out of here, because they’re the ones who might end up dead.” She slipped the gun into the pocket of her robe.
“The next bus leaves later this morning. You will be on it. Am I clear?”
She stood in front of the mirror, turning and lifting the edge of the robe. The welts on her ass and thighs were a light purple and the spot where the cane had cut her could barely be seen. She fingered the marks, shuddering from the memory of how they were received. “Thank you for everything, Sheila, but this is something I have to do.” As she ended the call, she heard a snippet of what might happen to her if she didn’t follow orders.
She would be terminated for insubordination. Somehow, she didn’t think Sheila’s threat was idle this time, especially given her boss had no doubt crossed the line even assigning this case. Everyone wanted to catch Slice in action. The collar would advance their careers. She snorted and placed her hand over the leather collar strapped firmly around her neck. The irony was delicious indeed.
After turning off her phone and dropping it into her suitcase, she moved quickly toward the door, cracking it open and darting her head into the hallway. There was no one in sight. She crept along the hall, heading back to his room, determined to find a hiding place for her gun, one that was easily accessible. There would be no way to explain her desire to carry a piece, not to a man like Slice.
The door was still ajar, the room just as dark as when she’d left. She scurried into the room, closing the door softly.
Whoosh! Bam!
Tossed against the wall, the breath knocked out of her, she struggled to breathe. One hand was wrapped around her throat, the other grabbing one of her wrists and yanking it over her head. She jerked forward, gaining enough momentum she was able to lift her knee, catching the attacker in the groin.
While the perpetrator grunted, the sound winded, he only lost his grip for a split second.
The hard smack against her face forced ringing in her ears. She shoved her one hand out, slapping against the attacker’s chest. The man didn’t budge. Another hard kick connected, and the asshole tumbled backwards. Scuttling away, she ran into the dresser, pain tearing into her left side, but she was able to grab the gun, swiveling as she placed both hands on the barrel.
A blur rushed forward, knocking the Glock out of her hand, his arm pinned around her throat, cutting off her air supply.
Wheezing, she grabbed his arm and knew the tip of a knife was placed against her cheek.
“Stop struggling, kitten. Now.”
Slice…
A cold shiver raced down her spine. His hold was too strong, and she was dragged backwards until a bedside lamp was turned on, flooding the room with a warm glow. Blinking in order to focus, she noticed her gun on the floor in plain sight. Shit. Shit. Shit!
He lessened his hold, still keeping her in place and lowered the knife. “This is a fascinating scenario.”
“Let. Me. Go.” Cassandra was livid even as a strong wave of terror remained. She’d been an absolute fool to trust him or to try and pretend that she was anything but an agent searching for a perp.
Exhaling, he waited for a solid five seconds before releasing her.
She spun around to face him, coughing and rubbing her throat. The gleam of the knife in his hand was enough to shake her fear, replaced with blinding anger. “What do you think you’re doing?” She took a side step, trying to move in front of the gun.
“I wouldn’t try it, Scarlet, or should I say Agent Cassandra Wright.”
Cassandra bristled yet refused to give him any indication she was flustered. “Should I address you as Master Diablo or the assassin known as Slice?”
“Touché, Miss Wright.” His eyes twinkled as he said the words, obviously amused with the predicament.
She had never been so damn uncomfortable, let alone felt so utterly stupid in her entire career. She’d allowed her guard to fall, including having sex with the man. Undercover or not, he no doubt banked on her desire to submit. “We should talk.”
“You’re right. Why don’t you have a seat?”
“Put your knife away,” she countered.
“Then hand me your gun and I’ll be happy to. We are going to make a deal, you and I,” Slice stated as he held out his hand. “And you are still my submissive.”
The audacity of the man was blasphemous. She wanted to rip out his eyes, feed them to whatever creatures she could only hope lived in the moat. Yet, she had absolutely zero choice at this point given her vulnerable state. She crouched down, her eyes never leaving the hulking man as she picked up the gun.
He kept his smile as he beckoned, curling his fingers as if requesting her complete submission. “Come on, kitten. Trust. We need to relearn trust between us.”
She almost laughed as she took two steps closer, handing him the Glock.
Nodding, he placed the gun on the nightstand before snapping his knife shut and doing the same with his weapon. “I assure you, my beautiful submissive, I have no plans of hurting you. That is unless you do something ridiculous like that again.”
“I am not your submissive.”
He chuckled as he shoved his long sleeves up over his elbows. “That is where you are very wrong. This game is just getting heated and we will need to maintain our enchanting identities.”
“You are serious.”
“Very much so.” He closed the distance.
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She backed away two feet.
Slice took another stride, lifting a single eyebrow.
Cassandra took another step, hitting the edge of the dresser. My God. She was acting as if she’d never confronted a criminal before. This man was about to derail her entire career, if not end her life.
He towered over her, studying her eyes, his gaze dropping down to her chest. “You are truly a beautiful woman and quite formidable. No other FBI agent has been able to get this close to me in the entire ten years I’ve been doing this. Give yourself a round of applause.”
“Fuck you.”
“That will cost you, sweet kitten, in more than one way.”
She was shivering, and her condition had nothing to do with his threat. Biting back another caustic remark, she held her head high, refusing to blink or give in to the man. Not now. Not ever.
Her little voice laughed hysterically, creating a wave of heat between her legs.
“You need significant training, but I will enjoy taming you, garnering your full surrender.”
Her laugh was laced with a bitter tone. “And you really believe that I’ll submit to you fully.”
“Yes.”
The single word couldn’t have riled her any more.
Slice brushed hair from her face before taking a step away. “Sit. We will talk.”
Resigned, she inched toward the set of chairs near the window, the small table between them the only protection she would have. When she sat down, she made certain her robe was closed as well as trying to keep her hands from shaking.
Slice eased onto the chair opposite and crossed his legs, looking very comfortable in his skin. “Your assignment is to catch and arrest me. Yes?”
There was no sense in lying. “Yes. You are on every most wanted list.”
He appeared delighted as he shook his head. “I’m certain I am. Why were you able to get so close to me and how?”
“Informants. You may think you have anonymity, but junkies and gamblers have no issue giving out information for a few hundred dollars.”
