His Devil's Heat (Club Devil's Cove Book 2)

by Linzi Basset

  It was him. It had to be him. Only he can draw such intense arousal from me.

  “There you go. Now, Red, which Master was it?” Ethan asked next to her.

  “It’s Master Blade.”

  “Very well. Ace, how about you?”

  Samantha didn’t answer immediately. She had come to know Rhone’s touch very well over the past couple of weeks. This time, it was just as arousing, just as overwhelming but there was a difference. Very subtle but she’d felt it.

  “I’d say it was Master Blade too.”

  “Hm, two subs, one Master. Who got it right, I wonder,” Max teased.

  “Lift your masks, subs,” Ethan ordered.

  “Ah, damn,” Lauren puffed when she noticed Rhone standing in front of her, smiling, of course.

  “Here you go, Master Razor.”

  Lauren watched the sealed package that Jack handed to Rhone with trepidation. He tore it open and she cringed when she recognized the teardrop-shaped butt plug in his hand. He squirted lube on the tip and ensured it was spread all over.

  “Turn around, Red, bend over and grab your ankles, please,” his deep voice which toggled the submissive inside her to take the position without protest.

  Lauren hated butt plugs. Her previous experiences with them had been painful, which was why she jerked when Rhone carefully twirled and pushed amidst her aroused moans until it was settled.

  “Ah, such a beautiful view, wouldn’t you say, Master Blade,” he said while he tugged it back and forth. He only stopped when her knees threatened to buckle. “Up you go, Red.” He assisted her in straightening up.

  Lauren glanced at Keon, who was staring at her with heated eyes and a smile. “Blindfolds in place, please,” he ordered gruffly. “And spread your legs wider, both of you. Good, here we go.”

  This time it was a feather. It fluttered over Lauren’s nipples, teasing, and tantalizing. By the time it moved over her stomach, she was ready to combust. Her clit throbbed in anticipation and a carnal groan escaped her lips when it fluttered over the tip. She nearly jumped out of her skin when hot lips closed over her swollen nub and sucked and nibbled on it. She was so aroused; she couldn’t pay attention on what or how it was done, let alone who the Master was.

  “Ace, your guess, please,” Ethan asked when the ecstatic torture ended.

  Samantha’s breathing was uneven as she too tried to settle her spiked libido. She licked her lips, knowing this time it was going to be nothing but an educated guess.

  “Master Razor.”

  “Red, what say you?” Ethan noticed how Lauren was also battling to bring her arousal under control.

  “I’ll be damned if I know,” she admitted. She took a deep breath. “Master Blade.”

  “Voila! This time you got it right. No need to remove the blindfolds, subs. We’ll just move into the finale,” Keon intoned.

  Both women groaned when they identified the sound of ice bucket.

  “Yes, my pets. You seem to be overheating, so we’re going to cool you down some,” Rhone teased.

  Lauren jumped when the Master in-charge traced an ice cube over the curve of her breasts and slowly trail around her nipples, over and over, until they stood out taut and hard.

  “Fuck,” Lauren cried out when he moved the ice cube over her nipples; softly and then harder. She bit into her inner cheek, her body canting against the wandering hand trailing two pieces of ice over her body, the curve of her hips, to draw circles all over her buttocks. She hissed when the cold trickle of water disappeared in the crack between her ass cheeks, before it moved down the center of her body in front to tease her clitoris, gently, with slow rubs back and forth.

  Lauren couldn’t prevent her body from arching in tandem with the caresses.

  “Geezz!”

  “Fuck!” Samantha cried at the same time, when the Masters effortlessly popped both pieces of ice into their pussies. The ice melted from the heat of their bodies in no time.

  “Ok, Ace. Who iced you up?” Ethan asked. His voice sounded strangled. All of them were enamored with the reactions from the two women.

  “Fuck, how would I know?” She cried out in frustration. Her body tingled and pulsed with an overwhelming demand. She took a chance that the two men might have swapped again. “Master Blade.”

  “And you, Red?”

  “I don’t know either, but I’ll go with Samantha and say Master Razor.”

  They removed the masks to find they both had guessed wrong.

  “This, I’m going to enjoy,” Keon said, watching Lauren closely as he unzipped himself. “On your knees, subs. You’re going to give us a blow job hot enough to fry our minds.”

  Lauren dropped to her knees, eager to taste him on her lips. She stroked his shaft from the base to the tip in a slow rolling motion. The tip of her tongue flicked out to lick the pre-cum from his broad tip.

  “No playing, Red. This is penance. Get my cock down your throat.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She complied with his demand. She opened her mouth wide and closed her lips around his large cockhead. She made her way down his length cautiously. Her mouth stretched to its limit to take him all the way, halfway down her throat; sucking strongly on his cock as she went. His skin felt like steel covered in silk. She licked the underside, dragging her mouth back to suck on his knob.

  Keon hissed and caught a tuft of her hair in his fist. “Usually, I would love you sucking me off, but not this time. The fragrance of your arousal is driving me crazy. Get me down your throat, Red. Now.” The order sounded raw as he forced her head down, groaning as her throat convulsed around his length and he hilted inside her.

  “Now, I’ll do all the work, my pet. Just keep your jaw relaxed,” he ordered as he began to thrust into her. He groaned and increased the speed, fucking her throat with controlled jabs. His eyes were glued on her face, fascinated by the tears that trickled down her face and the saliva dribbling from her chin.

  Lauren had no intention of staying still and closed her fingers around his balls, stroking and rolling them softly within her palm.

  “Jesus, Red,” Keon grunted, thrusting harder with a rhythm that rocked her back and forth in his hands clamped around her face.

  She felt his balls tighten under her ministrations and knew he was on the verge of ejaculating. She pulled his pants down just enough to reach and stroke his perineum.

  “Fuck!” Keon roared. He pumped hard and held her face against his crotch as he froze, controlled by his dick, jetting semen down her convulsing throat. He continued with short, hard jabs until he had no more to give. His fist unfurled from her hair and he allowed her to pull off his cock, coughing and gasping for breath.

  Keon zipped himself up and took the warm and wet cloth Ethan held out to him. He tenderly wiped her mouth. “You continue to amaze me, Red.” He closed his lips around hers and kissed her.

  Lauren leaned into the kiss, surprised for the umpteenth time since they’d arrived. The kiss was soft and tender. Right then, he touched her heart. He touched her soul.

  He lifted his head and looked at her through heavy lidded eyes, leaving her defenseless. She had fallen; hook, line and sinker in love with this compelling man. One who had the ability to sear her with a single look but was always gentle. A gentle giant.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Meanwhile, in the Hard Rock Cafe in Baltimore . . .

  He could barely keep himself from tugging on the uncomfortable grizzly black beard—fake, but done so well, it was an effective disguise. The long hair wig was just as uncomfortable but he had no choice. He didn’t want ‘Damien Whittaker’ to be associated with this man. And he wanted this meeting to go as planned. He pushed the glasses back, annoyed that he had to keep wearing them.

  No one fucked with his life. Not even Vito Vitale. He had no intention of being a plaything for the mob. It was time to snuff out Vitale’s light.

  Half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, th
e interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful walls. Everyone returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrant; the cold breeze already forgotten.

  Adam straightened; he silently summed up the man who took a couple of steps forward. His cowboy gait was at odds with the Savile Row suit. There was a casualness to him that didn’t quite fit his crisp clothes. All that was missing was a gun and a ten-gallon hat. His black eyes met Adam’s and without breaking his stride, he strode toward him.

  “Buen día (Good day), Mr. Wallace, is that correct?” The man spoke with a Mexican accent. His hand was manicured, the skin softer than a baby’s. His face was chiseled, cold. On closer inspection, the contained darkness in his eyes chilled Adam to the bone. Here was a man unaccustomed to losing. Adam was confident that he’d made the correct choice. The man smiled like a long-lost brother and shook his hand warmly.

  Adam reciprocated. “Javier Velez?” At his nod, he waved him into the chair opposite him. “Please, take a seat.” He glanced around for the server and caught his attention. “A drink?”

  Javier’s black eyes scanned the patrons in the room, cataloguing each one with a brief but very thorough glance. He leaned back in his chair and looked down his aristocratic nose at the server. His accent was almost undetectable when he asked, “Do you know what a Michelada is, young man?”

  “Yes, sir. We have many customers who love Mexican cocktails. Let me see, it’s the drink that leaves your mind clear, but your body stops working,” he proudly relayed the words the barman had drilled into his head.

  Javier boomed with delighted laughter. Adam stared at him in wonder. He would never have classed this man as the deadliest assassin in Mexico if he’d met him under different circumstances.

  “I’m impressed. Not all pubs serve cerveza preparada (beer cocktails). Off you go then, dear boy, and bring me a Michelada and make sure the rim of the glass is well coated with salt.”

  Javier kept the conversation light until the server brought his drink. “We’ll call you when we’re ready to order. No interruptions until then,” he instructed.

  “Of course, sir. Just lift your hand and I’ll be right over; whenever you’re ready.”

  Javier observed the young man’s retreat. His eyes glinted as they followed the swing of tight jean clad ass.

  Javier’s black eyes drilled into Adam’s.

  “My time is money, Mr. Wallace. Talk.”

  “Money isn’t my problem, Mr. Velez. A certain American mobster is.”

  Javier showed no emotion. No flash of interest or disinterest in his eyes. He simply waited.

  Vito Vitale had overplayed his hand against him.

  Adam had originally planned to use Ace to eliminate Vitale, which was why he’d phoned Lauren. To set a plan in place that would eventually force Ace to bend to his demands to keep Lauren safe.

  His fingers stole under his coat sleeve to brush over the cold bracelet locked around his wrist.

  Until those bastards came to visit. Now, I have no other choice.

  Adam had tried all avenues to get the bracelet off, but no one had found a way to deactivate it. He was stuck with it for now; until the scientist on his payroll could come up with a solution. He wasn’t giving up.

  This is me fighting back.

  Starting with Vito Vitale, who posed an immediate threat to him.

  “I need you to eliminate him. For good.”

  Adam had done his homework. The Mexican cartel wasn’t happy with Vito Vitale, especially after the death of Julio Cortez. It didn’t matter that Vitale hadn’t been directly responsible for his death. What did matter was that the mafia had exploited Cortez’ death to infiltrate Mexican’s drug distribution ring during a time they were without a leader.

  Javier Velez was the trusted confidant of the Mexican cartel. Contacting him directly had been a stroke of genius.

  Adam knew that Javier won’t say no. Not with the amount of money he was prepared to line his pockets with.

  He’ll take the money and the fame of offing the feared Vitale.

  “You’re wasting my time, Mr. Wallace,” Javier snapped when Adam didn’t continue.

  “My apologies. I was distracted for a moment. Before I disclose his name, I need to know if there is a line you draw when taking on a new target?”

  Javier leaned forward. “Yeah, dogs. I love dogs and refuse to target them, no matter their size or breed.”

  Adam barked with laughter. “Ah, how I wish I’d found you earlier. You would’ve made my life so much easier.”

  Another idea surfaced in his mind. Rhone Greer and Keon LeLuc. This man would be perfect for getting rid of them. But, he had to park that for now. At least until he’d gotten rid of the ticking bomb on his arm.

  “Vito Vitale.”

  Javier’s eyes flared when Adam uttered the name. Then he stretched his legs out and sat back.

  “Well, now, you have my interest.”

  “Let’s just say, he overstepped the line and it’s time to level the playing field, so to speak.”

  “Indeed,” Javier muttered. He searched Adam’s face. He gestured toward the glasses resting on his nose. “Why do you wear these? Is it part of your disguise?” He laughed when Adam started.

  “Yeah, I know the hair and beard are fake too. Not that anyone else would notice, but I have an eye for detail.” He waved his hand in the air and took a sip of his drink. “It matters not. So, you want to get rid of the most feared mob boss since Damiano Vitale?”

  “Yes. Can you do it?”

  “Don’t insult me, sir. I’ve been doing this for longer than I can remember. I’ve never had a target walk away. But you had better be sure it’s what you want. I don’t miss.”

  “We wouldn’t be sitting here if I wasn’t. And, I want it done now. Within a week.”

  Javier shuffled his feet as he sat up. He gulped down the rest of his drink. “If I take the job, I decide when, how and where it’s done. I don’t take chances, Mr. Wallace. I like detailed plans. I need three weeks.” He rested his elbows on the table. “Take it or leave it.”

  Adam stared at him. There was excitement in his dark eyes at the thought of taking out Vito Vitale.

  Perfect.

  “Very well. Three weeks.”

  “Half a billion US dollars.”

  Adam swallowed. Jesus! Is this fucking man crazy?

  He held up his hand when Adam opened his mouth to protest.

  “Take it or leave it. I never haggle on my fee. And this one . . . I’m the one taking all the risks.”

  What the fuck am I worried about the money for? I’ve got much more at my disposal now.

  “One more thing; it’s payable upfront. No fifty now and fifty once the job is done.”

  “I suppose there’s no possibility of you failing? I wouldn’t want to see my money wasted.”

  “I never fail. You’ll get your money’s worth. You have my word on that.”

  He relaxed and passed a folded slip of paper toward Adam.

  “My banking details. If the money isn’t transferred by noon tomorrow, I return to Mexico.”

  “It’ll be done.”

  “Good. Now where is that young boy? I’m starving.”

  Adam took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes speculating as he stared at Javier. This was one of the best connections he had ever made. With the money available in the Whittaker’s coffers, he could have the world at his feet. His eyes brightened.

  “Once this job is done, I’ll have a couple more.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Back at Club Devil’s Cove . . .

  “Are you ready for us, subs?” Keon asked. He and Rhone were standing at the foot of the bed.

  Lauren glanced at Samantha. She could see her insecurity reflected in her eyes, since they’d stepped inside the Devil’s Delight room.

  Now that the moment had arrived, they were both filled with trepidation. Lauren—because she’d just discovered her love f
or Keon and didn’t know how she felt about watching him fuck her sister.

  Samantha had the same thoughts. It was easier to watch Rhone punishing a sub in the dungeon, than watching his cock driving into her sister’s ass.

  “Samantha, you know it’s something I wish for us to explore as a couple but if you’re not ready for it—”

  “It’s not that I’m not ready for it,” she glanced at Lauren, “but my sister? I’m sorry, Rhone, I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  Lauren nodded in agreement, which Keon didn’t miss. He glanced at Rhone. The two of them had done threesomes and had become a well-oiled machine. They’d been surprised when Samantha and Lauren had agreed to it earlier, but now they were getting cold feet.

  “So, if we find different partners, you’d be willing to continue? For example, Samantha, if I asked Max to join us in a threesome, you’ll be happy with that?” Rhone asked in an even tone. He didn’t want her to assume he was disappointed even though he had been looking forward to experiencing a threesome with her and Keon. Her feelings were more important than his desires.

  “Yes, Rhone, I’ll be fine with that.”

  “And you with Ethan, Lauren?” Keon asked softly.

  “Yes, I’ll be okay with Ethan.”

  “Very well,” Rhone said. Ignoring Samantha’s squeal, he picked her up and strode toward the door. “We’ll move to the Devil’s Throne room. I’ll find Max and Ethan on the way.”

  Keon was still watching Lauren intently. She squirmed under his regard.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “What were your dreams as a young girl, Lauren? About a man, I mean?”

  Lauren was stumped. Of all the questions, that was the last thing she’d expected to be asked. She frowned as she thought back to her carefree years.

  “Honestly, the same as any young girl’s, and quite meaningless now.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I was only fifteen, Keon, when my family was killed. It took me a year to recover and Adam took me under his wing immediately thereafter. At fifteen, what does a young girl dream about? To date a sexy jock in school? Or take the hottest guy to the senior prom?” Her smile turned bitter. “I wasn’t allowed to dream. He placed me in one of the strictest convent schools on the face of the earth. I got slapped if I looked at a boy. He kept me . . . a virgin. For himself.”