by Violet Blaze
No doubt there'd be suspension kits already rigged up and waiting to go. Adelaide didn't know what she was doing, but I did. I could do a partial suspension over a bed, maybe fuck her from behind? Jesus, I could hardly believe I was even planning this out, how to screw this girl without letting anyone else touch her and without letting on that that's what I was trying to do.
It was beyond fucked-up.
“We listen and observe tonight,” Adelaide said, her attention focused on the now mostly empty box in front of her as she picked at a small yellow piece of egg fluff with her fork. “No matter what we see,” she whispered, and I think she was talking more to herself than to me.
Adelaide glanced up with those pretty hazel eyes of hers, the lashes long and curved, her expression stalwart and ornery as hell.
“Are you scared?” she asked me as I finished my coffee and set it aside, the white mug clinking against the black granite countertop. I had to think about that for a long moment.
“Yeah,” I admitted, looking back up, catching her gaze, “yeah, I am.”
“Thanks for not going all macho on me and spewing a bunch of bullshit out your ass.” She smiled and the expression was warm and bright, the best one I'd gotten from her yet. “That's what I'm used to seeing back home, with the boys in my dad's club. They're always posturing, trying to see whose machismo is the biggest and baddest. They're too stupid to realize that fear isn't what makes you weak; it's the denial of it that turns men into monsters. Accepting that fear and overcoming it, that's what makes a real man.”
“You are one wise, wise woman,” I told her as she continued to hold my gaze, fierce and wild and untamed. Just me, I was the only one that'd get to dominant her, force her out of that cage she'd built around herself and free her from own demons.
O' course, only if we managed to live through this shit.
“You know, I'm really glad I didn't slit your throat up on that roof.”
I grinned back at her.
“Well, sugar, I have to say: I'm really glad about that, too. If I were dead, I couldn't fuck ya, now could I? And wouldn't that just be a damn shame?”
#
Adelaide set her sister up with food, water, a remote control, and a bucket to piss in.
“You fucking cunt!” Layla screamed as Adelaide pulled the door closed, her lips pressed into a grim line.
“This sucks,” she said as she sighed and put her hands on her denim clad hips. She was dressed in another new outfit, this one made up of dark blue jeans with rhinestones on the ass. All of that sparkle on a butt that was already round and plump and perfect made it just that much harder to resist. Paired with a black v-neck shirt that showed off far too much cleavage for me to think straight and Adelaide Vaughn was a walkin' talkin' vision. I could've stared at her all day and not got tired of the sight. “But if I let her go, I guarantee she'll do exactly as she says, run off and tell Cainen or Dad. I don't want anymore of my family than necessary to get involved in this.”
Adelaide touched her fingers to the tattoo buried under her hair and followed me into the living room, hefting up one of the bags we'd packed with the copious amounts of shit and glitter we'd need to get into the Gibbous Moon—jewelry, fancy shoes, a dark purple dress (looked as if we mighta got some unfortunate stains on the black one), the bondage rope, my best suit and loafers, and so on and so forth. Felt like I needed a whole fucking day just to catalogue all of this crap.
“Let's go,” she said as I snatched up the other bag and we left, locking the door behind us and pausing in the security office to pay Cecil a visit. I didn't bother to tell him about the girl trapped in my apartment, but I did drop him a few hundred bucks and asked if he might walk my floor every now and again. Layla had Adelaide's Ruger, and at this point, there was no reason for TSR to suspect me of anything, so she was as safe in that bedroom as she could be anywhere else. Adelaide also told Cecil that if there were a fire, he'd have to go in and rescue her cat, and took another hundred from my wallet to give to the man.
Very smooth, Miss Vaughn.
The giant touring motorcycle was right where we left it, sitting next to the airbrushed beauty of the Sideswipe in my single parking space. I gave Adelaide one helmet, took the other and flipped open the saddlebags so we could stuff our shit inside.
“For all your dad's faults,” she told as I mounted the leather seat and she climbed up behind me. “He makes beautiful bikes.”
“Yeah, well, that's his one and only talent in this world besides singing. He didn't get the capacity to love—not any woman, not even his own son—so I suppose God felt like he owed the asshole something of value.” Adelaide chuckled and slipped her arms under my leather jacket, leaning that warm curvy body of hers against mine, turning my cock to stone as I kick-started the engine on the Country Cross-XX and pulled out of the space like a bat outta hell.
Adelaide made a sharp sound of pleasure as I rocketed out onto the street and took the curves a little too quick, just enough to make my stomach clench with nerves, send a giddy rush of adrenaline shooting through my body. We wove in and out of traffic in the bright sunlight, making our way back to the Hard Sell almost too quick. I wanted to keep Adelaide close, drive off toward the horizon and just keep going until I was too tired to keep my eyes open. Then I wanted to pull off into some shitty roadside motel and fuck her brains out.
But instead, we were gussying up to go out and mingle with a bunch of billionaires that would rape and kill a bound woman as guiltlessly as if they were slaughtering a rabbit on a hunt, the screams of their prey falling on deaf ears. Taking revenge on those pieces of shit was not something I wanted to do, but something I had to.
“Think we have the luxury of stopping in for a drink?” Adelaide asked as I parked in my usual spot and tried to see if anything looked amiss. But no, the sun baked pavement was dry as sin and I could smell the rank scent of the dumpsters as I swung my leg over the bike and pulled Adelaide along with me.
“Do we have the luxury of not stopping in for a drink?” I asked with a sharp smile. “Because I'mma need if we're going to pull this thing off.” I stepped up close to Adelaide, sweeping some hair from her forehead, wondering if I really had gotten lucky and found the right girl or if I was just fooling myself.
“I'll take another One-Night Stand,” she said and I grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and taking her into the dark haziness of the bar. At this time of day, it was damn near empty, a few regulars slumped over the counter, a couple of young women giggling at the slot machines. Black Stone Cherry's “White Trash Millionaire” played over the speakers as Liv cleaned glasses behind the bar.
She glanced up at me when I came in, raising her eyebrows at the sight of the same girl from last week. It was a rare treat that I ever brought in the same woman twice. It was a bit of a risk bringing Adelaide in here when several of my dad's men sat at the bar, but I decided to start the show now, tugging her close and grinning at Liv.
“You remember Adelaide, don't ya, Liv?”
“The girl with the purple hair. How could I forget?” Liv asked, turning away to put up the glass, the bare skin on the back of her neck making me smile. At least she was just normal, regular old Liv, the cranky bitch from the bar who tried to fuck me every chance she got. “You two an item now, Dash Buchanan?”
“Guess you could say that,” I smirked as I pulled Adelaide closer and planted a kiss on the top of her head. She stayed completely quiet, the men glancing our way and then focusing back on whatever daydream it was that was floating on the surfaces of their drinks. I knew the World's End MC sometimes worked security for TSR events, but I wasn't sure exactly how intertwined they were, and we weren't taking chances. Adelaide stayed stoic and silent, face downturned, eyes on the floor, like a zombie.
I hated every second of it.
“A One-Night Stand, and a Captain 'n' coke real quick, sweetheart.”
“Hmph,” Liv snorted, her arms covered in Sailor Jerry style tattoos, her makeup
thick and dark, brows drawn on, and a silver ring through the center of her nose. She mixed our drinks, gave Adelaide an appraising once-over and then set them on the bar as I passed her some cash.
We headed through the empty room the same way we did last time we were here, slipping out the back door and moving up the steps in the sunshine. I didn't breathe easy until we were inside and I'd checked to make sure everything was locked.
After talking to Apollo via text earlier, we'd decided he should stop in here on his way to the Block to check our mics or cams, but he said we were clear and I believed him. He was a strange little fucker for sure, but there was something about him that I liked. At least, there was until I spotted the poster and t-shirt sitting on my fucking counter with a silver Sharpie and a note.
Sign these for me? –A
That stupid son of a bitch.
“Aw, he likes you,” Adelaide said, sipping her drink and standing next to me, her arm brushing up against mine. I liked that, the easy way she was touching me, like a promise of something that could be between us if we gave it enough time. One week was not enough, but it was going to take more than a week and a single party to bring TSR's house of cards crashing down. We'd get to know each other before this was all over—whether we wanted to or not.
But right now, it's about all I fucking wanted to do.
A sub. A girlfriend, maybe. A friend if I were lucky.
That's what I wanted from Adelaide Vaughn.
“You should just sign his shit and make nice with him,” she said as she turned and leaned her butt against the counter, half of her drink already missing from the glass. “If he can do all the things he claims, then this is a game changer. Having somebody around that can do what Apollo does is priceless. In fact, it almost makes it too easy.”
“Nah, nothin' about this is easy—with that genius techie boy around or not,” I told her as I unzipped the duffel bag I'd brought in with me and pulled out a dark wood case, setting in on the coffee table and sitting down on the leather couch with my drink in hand.
Inside were the syringes provided to me by the auction house, filled with the clear liquid they used to subdue the women. I had no idea what was in it, but there was no way in fuck that I was injecting this shit into Adelaide. Unfortunately, it'd be expected for me to bring some, maybe even to use it. One of the side effects of the drugs was dilated pupils. The type they used in doctor's offices wasn't something that was readily available, but I'd used my phone to search for information while Adelaide was dealing with her sister and found that Visine caused a slight dilation of the pupils. It wasn't a perfect solution, but for tonight it'd work. After that, we'd find some way to get the real drops. Hell, the men in this bar would fetch any drug for a price. If I paid them, I bet we'd get what we needed within a few days time.
“I don't much like this,” I said as I stood up and carried the case over to the sink, shooting the chemicals into a ceramic bowl from under the cabinet and wrinkling my nose at the smell. It was sharp, almost metallic and it made my stomach churn just thinking that they'd pumped this shit into Adelaide to keep her docile. That girl was a fighter, and her submission to me last night was a goddamn gift. For someone to force something like that … it made my damn blood boil.
“Saline is perfectly safe, especially in small amounts,” Adelaide said, retrieving the bottle we'd had the personal shopper pick up for us along with the Visine and a bunch of other random shit, just in case she was being watched or reporting back to TSR in any way. We'd just started this venture and already everyone was a suspect. This was going to get exhausting quick, wasn't it? “We probably won't even need to use it.”
“Optimism,” I told her as we rinsed the syringes thoroughly and replaced the chemicals with the saline. “I like it, but I'm not sure it suits you, darlin'.”
Adelaide smiled, but the expression was tight. She was talkin' a big game, but she was nervous as hell.
I set a freshly filled syringe back in the velvet lined case and turned to look at her, crossing my arms over my chest and watching those gold-grey eyes lift to mine.
“What?” she asked as she drew up another syringe with saline and replaced the cap on the end, laying it next to mine and waiting for me to speak. “Seriously, Dash, what?”
I grinned and dropped my arms to her hips, using my body to tilt her so that her ass was pressed into the cabinets. When I lifted her up and stepped between her legs, a small moan slipped from between her lips and her hands came to rest on my shoulders.
“You are one brave woman, Miss Vaughn,” I told her as I ground the stiff aching bulge in my jeans against her heat, rocking us together with a slow, easy motion that made her gasp. “And tonight is not the end; it's just the beginning. This'll be an easy one, in and out, no trouble to stir up. We'll go, mingle, and we'll fuck.” I reached up to take her chin in my hand, cupping her face and enjoying the way she leaned into me. We just met, but we fit together mighty fine. “When we do, it'll just me and you in there. And when we get out, we'll have some time to really explore whatever it is that's happening between us, see how much further this goes than just a job.”
“That sounds nice, Dash,” she said with a small smile as I reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, tugging them down her legs and yanking off her boots, tossing the denim aside and freeing my own cock. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, trapping her against the side of the counter and driving into that pulsing warm heat between her thighs. We pressed our foreheads together as I used a few slow, hard thrusts to chase away the anxiety, the fear. We were both afraid, but if we went in there with it clinging to our skin like sweat, those wolves'd smell it.
“I can't die yet, Dash,” Adelaide whispered to me, right before she came. “I haven't had the chance to fall in love yet; everyone deserves that chance.”
And she was right; everyone did.
I wasn't about to say it aloud—because I am one macho motherfucker—but I wanted that chance, too.
Thing was, those two stupid fucks in the kitchen right there, they just didn't know that they were both already pointed in the right damn direction.
#
My father sent the same car—the black Mercedes-Benz S550—and the same driver, a man whose name I didn't know, didn't really care to know either since he seemed to be one my old man's favorite lackeys. At least he had the common decency to keep his eyes off my fucking date.
And trust me—that was no easy task.
She was wearing this floor-length dress that matched the color of her hair, the skirt flaring 'round her knees and covering the simple black velvet pumps I'd chosen—easy to remove for a little bondage play, simple enough to keep on if I needed to execute the back up design I had in mind. The dress was backless, but the front went all the way up to her neck, sleeveless and pinched in at the straps making this deep V down her back that flashed the slightest hint of ass when she moved.
Her purple curls were swept up into a bun, a small circlet of diamonds above her short bangs, attached with a silver chain at the back that matched the one I'd placed on her wrist. It had a cross on it, just like the one I wore around my neck, the one I'd taken with me the day my dad had kidnapped me away from my own mother.
To this day, I still could not figure out why he'd kept me all those years, why he hadn't just shipped me back to live with her. I wasn't under any delusions that the man gave a flying rat's ass about me, but that just meant there was some other secret motive he'd had in mind all these years. Truth be told, it was probably something I didn't want to know anything about.
I helped Adelaide into the car since she was already trussed up and glittering in the silver rope. Sure, I could've easily tied her up during the drive or after we arrived at our destination, but this game, it was already started. Everything I did, she did, it would get passed around The Sovereign Revolutionists like high school gossip.
Adelaide kept her head down, her purple-black painted lips in a neutral frown. Her pupils were nic
ely dilated from the Visine and her arm and neck still had tiny puncture marks from the syringes used at the Block; we didn't need to add anymore just yet, but I had them inside my jacket pocket just in case.
The driver closed the door to the Mercedes with a quiet click and climbed in, glancing up in the rearview for just a split second before he started the vehicle. He tossed a quick smile over his shoulder and pulled out of the space, leaving me to smoke a cigarette and stare out the window like I just did not give two fucks about anything.
Adelaide's body was warm beside mine, but it was strange how disconcerting I felt her silence, how bothered I was by the false meekness of her expression. I didn't like what I saw, not one bit. It just pissed me off all the more, made me wonder how many other girls like Adelaide Vaughn were suffering in drug induced silences because of TSR and it's dickless sociopathic members.
So for thirty minutes, Adelaide stared at the floor, at the puddle of purple fabric around her feet, and I looked out the window and chain-smoked my way through several cigarettes.
The city whisked by, the buildings getting shorter, smaller, fewer and farther between until suddenly there were large gates and glowing mansions tucked behind palm trees, hidden behind thick desert foliage as they sprawled across the red-brown landscape.
The Gibbous—some fancy name for a phase of the moon—was really just a private residence owned by the TSR conglomerate and used for their black tie parties. It was a thirty million dollar estate perched up on a curved drive and backing a nature preserve.
Basically, it was the perfect place for their bullshit bacchanalias.
“Mr. Buchanan, we'll be arriving at our destination in just a few moments,” the driver said, and then there it was, a massive architectural nightmare in shades of gray, squatting against the red-brown richness of the mountains behind it.
Well-dressed men and women streamed across a curved bridge, a vibrant blue pond glistening beneath it, lit from within and topped with its own rocky waterfall. Lights strung across the bridge guided the attendees to the two story floor to ceiling glass front doors that I could see from all the way back here.
