Black Sheep

by Zara Cox

  He hands it to me, nodding at me to put it on. I pull the material still holding his scent over my head while his hands hold me tight against him and I continue to throb around him. Still in silence, he walks us to the passenger side.

  He hesitates beside the door, his eyes piercing mine. It’s as if he doesn’t want to disengage. When he eventually does, we both smother groans.

  He places me in my seat without my feet touching the ground. He crouches next to me, and the effort it takes not to stare at or hungrily inhale his sweat-damp body makes my eyes water. He pulls my seatbelt across my uselessly weak body then tucks a swathe of hair behind my ear before he kisses my temple. “Look at me, baby.”

  I don’t want to. I just want to close my eyes and will myself back to a time before the McCarthys imagined that getting involved with the Rutherfords was a good idea. Before my father and my mother’s thirst for more uprooted us from mundane hell to the devil’s playpen.

  But his low voice, his body, bleed immutable, savage authority. And for now, I’m his.

  So I turn my head and look into haunting eyes.

  “My name on your lips, my cum inside you, every single second of every single day. That’s the way it’s going to be for you from here on out.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  ANOTHER WOMAN’S SHOES

  You can’t keep me forever, Axel.”

  Lust cooled. Purpose restored. The flame of retribution rekindled in my heart. The shaky yet controlled words don’t elicit an immediate response. Nor does he bother to zip up the leather jacket he shrugs back into. He stands, tucks his semi-hard cock back into his boxers, and zips up with sickening composure.

  Sliding behind the wheel, he revs the throaty, powerful engine, executes a perfect U-turn and accelerates back down the deserted road. His body now loose and relaxed, he rests a wrist on top of the wheel.

  “Don’t delude yourself, baby. I don’t want forever. What I do want is answers. Answers you’ll give me before this thing is over.” His voice reeks of arrogant assurance.

  “You sound very sure about that.”

  He shrugs, a ghost of a smile whispering over his mouth. “I was sure you would let me fuck the hell out of you when I turned onto that road. And now there you sit, wearing a just-thoroughly-fucked glaze in your eyes and gorgeously flushed with my scent all over you.”

  Heat spreads up my neck. “If answers are all you want, you should’ve just said so and spared us both a hell of a lot of time.”

  “I think we just established that answers aren’t all I want.”

  After the darkness of the park, the bright lights of the highway blind me for a second but my eyes adjust, and I stare at the profile of the man behind the wheel.

  “You can have any woman you want, Axel. Why me? Why force this…thing on me?”

  The questions seem to give him pause. Or perhaps he doesn’t intend to answer. He changes lanes and steps harder on the gas, a blatant disregard for the rules of the road stamped into every gear change.

  It’s only when light traffic forces him to ease up that he casts me a sizzling glance. “Besides the fact that you make me as hard as a fucking rock just by breathing in my direction, there are a few things you need to atone for.”

  “Things like what?”

  Another blithe shrug, despite the stiff clench of his jaw and when he speaks, his voice is granite hard. “The small matter of eight years of my life.”

  Shock powers my breath out of me. “What?” My voice is a ragged croak.

  “You’re not deaf, sweetheart.”

  I frown, wondering whether the madness that seems to dog us has finally addled our brains. “How…?” I stop. Shake my head. Regroup. “How the hell did you arrive at that wild and amazing conclusion?”

  “Very easily. With irrefutable video evidence. You know the one.”

  “Video…?” A block of ice lodges itself in my chest. That sounds a little too much like a Finnan-made version of hell for it to be a coincidence. I open my mouth to ask for verification then absorb his whole answer. “What do you mean, I ‘know the one’?”

  The languid man who slid behind the wheel like a sated predator is gone. In his place is the snarling beast I recognize. “You knew his sick little game of filming every Hallmark moment. You knew he was recording what took place in his office the day he threw the let’s-convince-Axel-with-a-little-grievous-bodily-harm party for me. What, did you forget to turn off the camera after you were done?”

  The ice spreads further, numbing me from head to toe. “God, you think I enjoyed knowing that was happening to you in there? That I condoned it?”

  His mouth twists in a macabre smile. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

  “Axel—”

  “I saw you! On video, offering to ‘take care of me.’ You want me to recite it word for word for you? Or maybe you’d prefer to watch it again, with popcorn and a giant cocktail thrown in?”

  The blood drains from my head, and the hand I lift to my head shakes uncontrollably. “He filmed that?” Of course he did.

  A grating laugh barks from him. “That’s what you’re worried about? That you were caught on camera?”

  I rush to speak before I can think it through. “Axel, I can—”

  “Explain? Really? You have an excuse for sticking to your word and offering me three days’ false sanctuary of pussy and sympathy before helping him ship me off to West Point?” His voice is a deadly dagger wrapped in soft velvet.

  I open my mouth again, then realize no, I can’t explain. Stating my reasons why will bring everything I’m fighting for to one brutal end. “I…I didn’t want him to keep doing…that to you.” A partial truth. Despite knowing the extent of his cold-bloodedness, the sight of Axel beaten to a pulp still wrenched at the part of me that insisted on remaining innocent.

  They turn off the highway. He stops at a red light, the less-than-smooth stamp on the brakes testifying to his shredding control. Eyes the color of frozen ice chips find mine in the dark. “You’re a fucking liar, Cleo.”

  There is no way to escape the cold, bald indictment. But I can’t keep silent. “You thrived in the army, hell, you positively excelled. I may not know much, but I know they don’t hand out medals on a whim. You may not have wanted to go, but in the end, was it all so bad?”

  His ragged hiss stops my breath. The knowledge that I’ve touched a nerve, perhaps one so raw it’s a live grenade, smashes through me a second too late.

  A horn blares behind us. His eyes don’t budge from me, nor does he attempt to move. Not for another charged ten seconds. In those seconds, I see a thousand howling demons leaping through his eyes.

  “The beating was nothing. I could’ve withstood ten times worse.” His hand rises, and two fingers toy with my hair, twisting, smoothing, tucking, all while horns blast and cars swerve past us and drivers hurl abuse. “But you used this,” he traces my lips, his touch whisper soft, “and this,” his hand drops to my lap, dives beneath the T-shirt to stroke my pussy, “to change the course of my life. That deserves a reckoning, don’t you think?” He withdraws and calmly sets the car in motion.

  As if he hasn’t just shown me the underbelly of his psychopathy. As if he hasn’t just left me gasping.

  “Axel—” I stop, my mind blanking in the face of that casual damning. Clearing my throat, I attempt to speak. “You can’t lay the blame for…all of that on me.”

  “No, not all of it. But you’re one of a collective, sweetheart. Everyone else will get what’s coming to them.”

  Oh God. “What does that mean?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “So tell me what you would’ve done if you hadn’t…if the army wasn’t…”

  “Rammed down my throat? It’s okay, you can say it.”

  Except it isn’t okay. Not by a long shot if the hands clenched tight on the steering wheel are an indication.

  “Same thing you would’ve done, I suspect, if lust for power hadn’t made you decide that being Finnan’s
whore was more your speed; I would’ve chosen my own fucking path.”

  I flinch. “I’m not his whore.”

  “Then you’ve done something with that interior design degree you were so giddy to achieve?” he asks.

  My lips firm, shame and rage boiling my insides. “You would’ve found your own path? Really? When the two of you are forged from the same damn fire you may as well be one person? Isn’t that why you’re both so intent on destroying each other? So there can only be one to assume all the power?”

  His thighs bunch in latent aggression as he navigates early-morning New York traffic. “I’m nothing like him.”

  The hollow in my shattered heart mocks me as I sit there, knowing he is exactly like his father while wishing he wasn’t.

  “You have the power to do so much, Axel. And yet here we are,” I say, my voice bleeding emotions I can’t stem.

  He guns the car through an amber light then turns sharply down a ramp into an underground parking garage. He pulls into a private slot and kills the engine. Silence engulfs the car for tense seconds until he turns to me.

  “No, darling. We’re here because you had the power. And you chose to abuse it. You chose the wrong fucking team.”

  I don’t get the chance to ask what power he’s talking about because he pulls out his phone, conducts a terse conversation with someone called B, then hangs up. He turns his undeniably magnificent body toward me. Even seated, the chiseled perfection of his abs is on full display through his open jacket. The shameful throb that never quite abated kicks up again between my legs. I drag my gaze away, hoping not looking at him will help allay his effect on me.

  I can’t do anything about his intoxicating smell, which is filling the car. So I search for a distraction. Remembering my phone, I turn and look for it. The car is a two-seater with very little space behind the seats. But my phone is nowhere in sight.

  “Looking for this?”

  I glance over to find him clutching my phone.

  I hold out my hand. “Yes. Can I have it?”

  He slots it into his jacket pocket. “In good time.”

  I throttle back the panic that rises. “You can’t withhold my phone from me, Axel.”

  Gray eyes narrow with sharp intensity. “Who are you calling at five in the morning?”

  “No one. But that’s not the point.”

  “Isn’t it? Imagining you have any power here, at all, is only going to bring you disappointment, baby. I advise you to dial down your expectations.”

  “I’m not cowering before you just to give you a cheap thrill,” I snap back.

  A lazy finger drifts down my cheek, leaving a path of heat. “Don’t sell yourself short. Not now. Not when I’ve paid such a heavy price to have you again.”

  “What did you pay?”

  He taps me on the nose. “Don’t concern yourself about it. Just know that nothing you give me will be considered cheap.”

  A weary sigh bursts free before I can stop it. “Axel—”

  The click of heels halts my response. I twist in my seat to see a familiar figure striding toward us. It’s the woman who approved my application to join Axel’s club. The club that grants individuals their darkest fantasy atonements on a plate.

  When Finnan handed me the file, I was too distraught to look at it. I didn’t read its contents until twenty-four hours later, when his warning that I needed to step up my game or else forced me to. At first, the depravity behind the concept turned my stomach. Until further investigation mitigated my preconceptions.

  First of all, no one is forced to do anything they don’t want to.

  Second, nothing that risks life or safety is permitted.

  Third, all acts that stray towards the unconventional are carried out in a supervised environment. While I didn’t know what that entailed, my imagination stopped its wild and desperate spinning.

  I’m fully aware how less scrupulous places than the Punishment Club operate. My father had been an owner of two of those clubs when we lived in Boston, before he was lured to Connecticut by Finnan Rutherford. Finnan supplied him with girls. I know about this because I heard him arguing with my mother about what went on there. He eventually sold the club when a customer accidentally strangled himself during autoerotic asphyxiation.

  My seatbelt snaps free, dragging me back to the present. Axel’s gaze rests on me, but he makes no move to get out. When the footsteps halt beside his window, he lowers the window and takes the bag she hands him.

  She bends and scrutinizes my face with sharp, intelligent green eyes that hold a touch of concern. She’s about to speak when her phone rings. Digging into the back pocket of her tight leather pants, she pulls out a sleek phone and walks away.

  Axel reaches into the bag, pulls out a coat, and tosses it in my lap. “Put it on.”

  I eye the garment, a rebellious fire igniting inside me at the thought of wearing something that belongs to another woman. His woman? “Why?”

  “Because we’re walking through a club filled with depraved, desperate assholes. Your body isn’t going on show for them to fucking salivate over.”

  I want to ask him why he’s brought me here then, but I already know the answer. This is to be part of my punishment. The ironic thing is that I set the ball rolling myself.

  I take the coat and shrug into it.

  He finally steps out and comes around to open my door. I notice the other things he’s holding. The highest pair of fuck-me shoes I’ve ever seen. They’re black patent leather with lethal-looking silver studs down the back.

  They aren’t tacky, but the fire inside me, which is taking on a decidedly green tinge, ramps higher. “Those are—”

  “Likely the most harmless shoes B owns. She’s your size so they should fit.” He crouches next to the open door like he did in the park and reaches for my foot.

  My breath catches as he cradles one ankle and slips the shoe on then repeats the action with the other. Although casual, almost gentle, his touch still races fire up my legs to my core.

  I’m still fighting to pull air inside my lungs when he surges to his feet and holds out his hand. I take it, battle with yet another dimension of sizzle stemming from his touch, step out and struggle not to topple over in the sky-high shoes. He catches me as I pitch forward, steadying me with both hands at my waist.

  “You okay?” he asks with a raised eyebrow once I regain my feet.

  I nod, temporarily unable to speak because my borrowed heels elevate me closer to his fierce, unnerving regard. And at this height, his full, sensual mouth is so tantalizingly close that mine tingles wildly.

  We freeze in place, my gaze on his mouth, his on mine, for seconds. Or minutes. Until the sound of agitated heels pacing closer shatters the erotically charged standoff.

  The hands at my waist move. He fastens the stylish summer coat with the single button, and although I’m not thrilled to be wearing another woman’s clothes, I’m grateful for the cover it provides.

  “Come on.” His hand catches mine, and he leads me to the waiting elevator twenty yards away.

  “—no! There’s nothing to discuss. Stay the hell away from me. I mean it.”

  We both turn as B hangs up and crosses over to join us. She takes one step inside, and her phone rings again. Her elegantly manicured fingers curl around the device and a look passes over her face, gone quickly before I can decipher it.

  “You coming?” Axel demands with a bite of impatience.

  She eyes him. Then me. Then she looks down at her phone. Shaking her head, she backs away from the doors. “No. You two go ahead. I’ll grab the next one.”

  As she turns away, I can’t help but notice she’s decidedly paler than she was when she approached the car. But her shoulders and spine bear the hallmarks of one pissed-off female when she stalks away in heels even higher than mine.

  “What’s up with her? Is she okay?” I ask.

  Axel hits the button for the first floor without taking his eyes off me. Darkened eyes f
ull of intent. “B can handle herself. Which makes it very easy for me not to give a fuck.”

  The moment the doors slide shut, he backs me against the wall. His scent, his size, the heat emanating from his exposed skin all crowd into me, feeding the frenzied madness that seems to be a hairsbreadth away.

  “I like you small…A delectably fuckable handful I can manipulate on my cock any which way I choose. But I like you in these heels too.” He raises my hand and plants an open-mouthed kiss in my palm before dragging it down to rest on his iron-hard erection. He covers my hand with his, pressing our fingers so I feel every thick ridge.

  “You feel how fucking hard I am right now? I’m imagining how it easy it’ll be to slide my cock into you. You won’t even need to bend over to receive me.” Hot, vulgar words, crooned against the corner of my mouth before he licks the curve. A casual flick of his wrist, and the coat falls open. Heated eyes drag up and down my legs, and a hoarse sound escapes his throat.

  “You’re not…I’m not doing…that with you while I’m wearing another woman’s shoes.”

  One brow rises, and there’s brittle amusement in his eyes. “Jealousy looks…interesting on you.”

  The pulse of dark satisfaction in his voice makes my teeth clench so hard my jaw aches. “I’m not jealous.”

  His hands trail up my thighs, teasing through the dampness still very much present between my legs from our mutual release. “Am I misremembering an incident where you threatened to ‘beat the shit’ out of a waitress who smiled at me as she took our order? Or when one of Troy’s girlfriends accidentally got shoved into a pool for brushing her tits against me at a pool party?”

  In hindsight, a shockingly foolish period in my life I want to take back and crush to oblivion simply because it makes everything that followed so much more devastatingly bleak in comparison.

  “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago, before…” I press my lips together to stop from saying something that will come back to haunt me.

  The fingers playing dangerously close to my labia freeze. “Before?” The satisfaction is gone, in its place a tightly knotted cluster bomb that can go off at any second.