by Meghan March
“Fuck, I don’t know what turns me on more. When you fight me or when you obey.” His palm strokes my ass almost reverently. “As much as I want to fuck you right now, I won’t. But I’m sure as hell not waiting a week for that pussy.” A cold drizzle of lube hits my crack, and Mount spreads it around my hole.
Now that I know what’s coming, I try not to tense. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy this earlier today, even when I wanted to hate it.
As he rims the pucker with lube, he presses against it with a finger until it gives way with less resistance. “No longer completely virgin territory, but it won’t be official until my cock is buried inside this tight hole.” His lubed finger slides inside to the second knuckle, and I fight the urge to press back against it. “After this plug, you’ll take two fingers and I’ll stretch you more. Eventually I’m going to fit, and you’re going to fucking love it.”
I believe him, and that scares me more than any butt plug ever could.
He removes his finger and lubes up the plug, pressing the tip against me. “Press your pussy against the bed and then push out as I slide it in. This one’s thicker, but still not as big as my cock.”
I do as he says, the pressure on my new jewelry unleashing a torrent of sparks from my clit as he presses the plug inside, fucking me slowly with it.
“My little hellion is finally acting like a good girl. Finally taking what I give you. Letting me fuck your ass. Piercing your clit. Bending you over my lap.”
His words throw me over the edge into orgasm with a wail. My own cries almost drown out his words, but I still catch them.
“Sweet fucking Christ, I want you so goddamned bad right now, but—” He cuts off his own words and seats the plug with a final push.
As I release a breathy moan, Mount flips down the skirt of my dress, turns, and is at the bedroom door before I stand up.
All I catch is the sight of his perfectly tailored suit coat stretching across his broad shoulders as he strides away. But he doesn’t make his usual silent exit.
This time, the door slams, and I’m left more confused than I’ve been yet.
A new tingle pulses between my legs, but it’s not my accessories causing the confusion. No, that’s due to one very specific man who I don’t have the urge to curse to the devil for the first time since this all began.
Keira
Mount isn’t waiting in my room the next morning like a part of me hopes.
I remove the plug myself, but there isn’t another box waiting for me. There is, however, another outfit. This time it’s a white blouse and high-waisted black pleated skirt with a gold chain belt. The bra is lacy and white and appears that it might be marginally effective at shielding my nipples today, because the piercing is rendering me more sensitive than normal. There are matching panties, which brush against the jewelry constantly, driving me crazy in the best way possible. The pumps are black patent leather and higher than anything I’ve ever worn. They also feature the famous red soles I’ve always coveted but could never afford. When I slide my feet into them, I can’t help but survey my appearance in the full-length closet mirror.
I look good. Even I can admit that.
I eat the breakfast that’s waiting in the sitting room, but Mount still doesn’t appear. I wait for Scar to collect me, and after last night and being escorted back to my room without the hood, I’m hoping it’s gone for good.
Not so.
For some reason, it seems more insulting than it did before, if that’s even possible.
As I walk in the door to the distillery, I vow to focus on business all day, and nothing else.
I’m marginally successful. I wait for another text from the unknown number.
Nothing.
No food deliveries. No notes. Complete silence, almost like Mount has disappeared from my life, leaving a hood piercing as my only souvenir.
This is a good thing, I tell myself, even as I begin to worry that something is massively wrong. I help Temperance nail down the final details of the football event and check almost every item off my to-do list, a task that has been impossible to accomplish for months.
“You’re in beast mode today, boss. Nice work.”
I shoot my assistant a smile as she leaves my office. “I only work in beast mode. Ever.”
When I’m finishing up a final task and ready to wrap it up for the day, Temperance bursts into my office without knocking.
“Holy shit. Have you seen the news?”
“No. What happened? Someone get traded?”
Her face, already pale, loses its remaining color. “No. They found Lloyd Bunt’s body this afternoon.”
Everything in me goes still except the blood pounding at my temples and whooshing through my ears. “What did you say?”
“Lloyd Bunt. He’s dead. They’re saying it was suicide, or maybe murder. They haven’t been able to rule either out. But he wasn’t alone.”
I curl my fingers around the arms of my desk chair. “Who was he with?”
“A hooker. There’s speculation that her cause of death was autoerotic asphyxiation.”
Lloyd Bunt. Murder. Or suicide. With a dead hooker. The facts slam through my brain like cars in a head-on collision.
“That’s awful.” My voice shakes, and I truly mean it. Just a few minutes ago, when I was putting the loan docs back in the filing cabinet where they belong, I was counting myself lucky that he hasn’t contacted me today.
Now I know why.
Or who.
“I have to go.” I grab my purse and my trench coat and rush past Temperance, bolting out of my office.
Scar is waiting out front with the car. I yank the back door open, not waiting for him to come around and get it for me.
“Take me to him,” I demand.
Scar meets my gaze in the rearview mirror and nods before tossing the hood at me.
I don’t complain as I pull it on, because I need to see Mount right now. We take the usual—and what I assume is a ridiculously inefficient—route to return, and I don’t fight as Scar carries me to my sitting room.
My jail cell.
That I only get to leave on work release.
Everything about this feels completely and totally wrong, if what I suspect is true.
Mount isn’t just ruthless. He’s a psychopath.
I pace the room, working myself up more and more until he finally arrives what feels like an eternity later.
I don’t wait for him to speak before I fire my question at him. “Did you do it?”
His expression, already blank, doesn’t change. “Do what?”
“Did you kill him?”
Mount raises that arrogant fucking eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Lloyd Bunt. My banker.”
“The one who attempted to begin forcing you into a sexual relationship yesterday?” Mount asks.
My stomach drops to the floor. I can’t be responsible for Lloyd’s death. I can’t be, I tell myself.
To Mount, I give a different reply. “That’s not what it was. He only wanted dinner. A date.”
“And he would’ve kept pushing for more. Threatening your precious distillery until he got exactly what he wanted. To fuck you.” Mount’s declaration is harsh, and bile rises in my throat.
“And how is that any different from what you did?” I fling the accusation at him like a knife, and his blank expression disappears as his dark gaze flares.
“I was fucking honest about what I wanted—you in trade for the debt. No bullshit. Lloyd Bunt couldn’t wipe your debt away. He didn’t have a single fucking shred of real power.”
“But—” I start to argue, but Mount interrupts.
“And there’s another important difference.”
“What?”
“You didn’t want him.”
My shoulders stiffen. “And you think I wanted you?”
“I know you did, whether or not you’ll admit it to yourself.”
“You arr
ogant asshole—” When Mount steps forward, I hold out one hand like I could possibly stop him. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me right now. Or ever again.”
My hand may not have the desired effect, but my words stop him cold. And when I say cold, I mean frigid.
Mount’s features harden into the granite mask he never uses on me as he turns to walk away.
“You killed him, didn’t you? And her!”
Once more, Mount ignores my question and slams the door on his way out.
Keira
As soon as the door is closed, I run to grab my purse and my phone. I have zero cell service and no Internet connection, both of which must be controlled by Mount. I wait about two minutes before I head for the door and try the knob.
It turns freely.
In his fury, the all-powerful Mount forgot the most important thing—you can’t keep an unwilling prisoner in an unlocked cell.
I dash into the hallway, retracing the path we used last night until I reach the courtyard. The hallways are silent and empty, and I don’t give a damn if the cameras catch me. My goal is to be out of the gate and gone before he can reach me.
I don’t know if it’s the good Lord smiling down on me or a twist of fate finally working in my favor, but the courtyard gate is secured with a double dead bolt from the inside and not a key.
As soon as I hit the cracked sidewalk of a familiar block of the French Quarter, I take my first breath of freedom, but I know I can’t waste any time appreciating it. I sprint down the street to one where I know there will be cabs waiting, expecting Mount or Scar to yank me back into the shadows at any moment.
But they don’t.
Probably too busy covering up a double homicide.
I slide into the first cab that stops and give the driver the address to my apartment. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m hoping Mount will assume I’m too smart to go there, which will buy me some time. Maybe.
The cabdriver fights traffic while I grasp my apartment keys in my purse until the sharp metal edges make my eyes sting with tears. I have to keep it together, even though I feel like everything is splintering out of control. I can’t risk going to the police because I have no idea who is on Mount’s payroll. More than one, I would bet on that.
Nothing is what it seems. Or maybe everything is exactly as it seems. Mount is the villain here. He manipulated me, and I fell under his spell. End of story.
As soon as we reach my block, I toss some cash at the cabbie and run up the sidewalk to the door. Again, I’m expecting to be captured at any moment, and God knows what they’ll do to me now. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by finding the gun I keep locked in my nightstand drawer. After I have some way to protect myself, I’ll find a cop who isn’t on Mount’s payroll.
As soon as I step into my apartment, I scan every surface in the open kitchen and living room area. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here.
I race to the bedroom, intent on getting the gun and as many rounds as I have left in the box of ammo. I have to be ready because I know he’ll come for me.
When I rush for the nightstand drawer, there’s a box on the bed that brings me to a halt. A black one. The same type that carried each of the sex toys Mount used on me.
I grab it off my bed and fling it at the wall, not caring about the dent it will leave. I expect a vibrator or a butt plug to fall to the floor, but neither do.
What looks like a pair of underwear and a piece of paper flutter to the floor.
What the hell?
Looking over my shoulder out of instinct, I slowly cross the room and crouch down to retrieve them.
I expect the bold handwriting I’ve come to know as Mount’s, but the curving feminine letters were written by my own hand.
I remember writing the note all too vividly.
* * *
Meet me at Bal Masqué in the back alcove at midnight. Don’t say anything. Just take me.
* * *
Reading the familiar words drops me to my knees. I grab black fabric. It’s a thong I bought specifically to match the jeweled bra I wore under my gown for Bal Masqué.
It was just after Brett and I met and we were still in the sexy, flirtatious phase, which quickly turned into a whirlwind courtship. We got married the next day, in large part because of the events of that night.
How could Mount have these?
A chill snakes down my spine as my memory of that night returns.
* * *
Seven Months Earlier
I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but God, it finally felt good to take control and demand what I wanted. What I needed. This was the test, the true test to find out if Brett could be the man who would give me what I’d been missing my whole life.
I slipped into the dark alcove, away from the dancing, hoping he’d gotten the note. If not, I’d be going home disappointed and sexually frustrated.
Basically, my normal state in life, it seemed, especially lately.
I looked down at the watch I wore, even though it didn’t go with my outfit, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the midnight deadline.
I needed a man who wasn’t afraid to take charge, and I didn’t know how I could be any clearer about what I needed other than to spell it out like I did in my note. This was make or break for Brett and me, as far as I was concerned.
Both hands of my watch landed on the twelve, and I turned toward the wall in the hidden alcove that was known for trysts. Honestly, I was lucky to find it empty. Well, not lucky. As soon as people saw me here for the last half hour, they moved off to find another likely location.
I wanted what they were having.
Why was that so much to ask for?
Heavy footsteps sounded on the marble floor behind me and I stilled, keeping my face toward the wall. My nipples peaked and I clenched my thighs together in anticipation. I was already wet and ready, since I’d been thinking about how incredible this night could be.
A hand closed over my bare shoulder, and when I tried to spin around, his other hand gripped me by the waist, pushing me toward the wall before binding my hands with something soft. Silk?
Thank you, Lord!
He didn’t say anything, and the unique scent of citrus mingled with spice and woodsy notes stole over me, kicking up my desire another notch. The hand on my waist gripped the skirt of my long ball gown and yanked it up until cool air rushed over my thong-clad behind. I wondered if he could see the sparkling crystals winking in the dim light. It was probably dumb to buy special lingerie for this occasion, but I was ever the optimist.
He groaned as he cupped my ass and squeezed hard, no hesitation in his touch. Only the dominance I needed.
Again, I tried to turn my head but he wouldn’t let me, wrapping a hand around my throat and pulling me back against him as his decadent scent washed over me.
The gesture said it all. He was in control and I was at his mercy, which was exactly what I wanted.
Releasing my throat, he wrapped my hair in his hand and forced me to bend forward a few more inches.
One foot nudged mine, and I spread my legs for him willingly.
“Please.” The plea came out as a moan, and he met it with a deep growl.
He released my hair to slide his hand between my legs. My thong was soaked. My desire dripped down my thighs, but I wasn’t ashamed of it. His deep groan told me he thought it was sexy as hell.
He tucked a finger under the back strap of the thong and followed it down to the part that was drenched with my slickness. That’s when he truly turned into the barbarian I’d been hoping he would be.
His grip went to the top band and he shredded the delicate lace, tearing it from my hips. He wasted no time finding my clit and teasing it with slow circles before plunging a thick finger inside me.
“Ahhhh.” When he paused at my breathy moan, I urged him on. “No. Don’t stop. Please. You have to fuck me. I swear I’ll die if I don’t have you inside me right now.”
A growl of satisfaction met my ears and he finger-fucked me, alternating with teasing my clit until my orgasm burst through me. His hand disappeared as pleasure swamped me, but only for a moment. The music from the ball faded away as I focused on the sounds right behind. A zipper. The crinkle of foil as he tore open a condom.
Thank God one of us was thinking, because I’d lost all normal brain function at this point.
With one hand, he pinned the skirt of my dress to my back and guided his cock to my entrance with the other. As soon as he fit it against my slick heat, he plunged forward, burying himself with a single thrust.
I sucked in a ragged breath as his thickness stretched me decadently, almost to the point of pain, but all I felt was pleasure. My moans turned into cries, and he released his hold on my dress and covered my mouth with his hand while he fucked into me over and over, harder and deeper with each thrust. A scream threatened to leave my lips, and my only choice was to dig my teeth into the palm covering my mouth, not even caring that I might leave marks. His mouth dropped to the curve where my shoulder met my neck, and his teeth scraped across my skin before sucking hard.
My orgasm shattered inside me as he tore his mouth away, but he didn’t stop his movements. He dropped his hand from my mouth and released mine from their bondage, bringing one to my lips to silence myself so he could continue to work my clit and fuck me harder and deeper at the same time.
I didn’t do nearly as good a job at covering the sound of my orgasm as he did. I was pretty sure the entire ballroom heard me yell, “Yes! God, yes!” as another one ripped through me.
My inner muscles clamped down on his thick cock as it pulsed inside me, his orgasm filling me with a sense of power.
I did that.
And it was fucking incredible.
He pulled out of me and I lost my balance, stumbling to the side as I tried to right my skirt. He steadied me with a hand on my waist before crouching down. I leaned against the wall, still attempting to catch my breath. The grin on my face widened as I realized I’d finally found the one. The man who could give me all the things I needed.
