Jack Stone - Deadly Revenge

by Vivien Sparx

  When he came back into the room, Celia was sitting rigid on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together, back straight, hands clasped in her lap. Her skirt had ridden high up her thigh but she hadn’t seemed to notice. She sat there wordlessly for a long time and Stone said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched her and imagined all the things and emotions that were rumbling and crashing around in her mind and her imagination.

  She stirred at last, like she was coming out of a trance, or waking slowly from a troubled sleep. Her eyes were dark and huge.

  “The Dom,” she said. “That woman called him The Dom.”

  Stone nodded.

  “Not ‘a’ dom. The Dom. Like that was his name.”

  Stone nodded.

  “But we still don’t have a real name.”

  “No, but we don’t need one,” Stone said. “We know who he is, and we know where he is. Whether he calls himself Adolf or Ghandi is irrelevant. The man who runs that club is the man we need to talk to.”

  Celia nodded and sprang to her feet. “That’s why we’ve got to go back!”

  Stone balked. “Go back?”

  “To the club, Jack! That’s where the man is. We’ve got to go back and confront him. Find out if he is the one who murdered Katrina!” There was a hectic, fanatical flush in her eyes.

  “I agree,” Stone said carefully. He put his hands on her shoulders and stared evenly into her eyes. “When the time is right.”

  Celia chewed her lip, fighting to control her urgent impatience. “How? When?”

  Stone shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, looking Celia in the eye and lying, because in the back of his mind, Stone had a plan. But it was a plan he didn’t think he could carry out with Celia at his side. He needed to work alone – to protect her from the risks that would need to be taken, and the one big gamble that would require every ounce of his ability to bluff. “And I don’t think it’s something we should decide right now,” Stone said smoothly. “Only fools rush in…” he said.

  Celia nodded reluctantly, suppressing her impatience and her thirst for revenge and justice. But she was also strangely restless. She sighed and her expression changed. It was like she had mentally flicked channels completely, switching from one subject to another like she had some kind of remote control thing going on inside her head.

  She glanced up at Stone suddenly and her eyes were hooded, her face flushed warm.

  “Tonight was… was stimulating,” she said vaguely.

  Stone shrugged, because he didn’t know how else to respond, but he could sense the direction Celia’s mind had diverted to – and he was keen to encourage her distraction. Anything that took her mind off her rush for instant revenge. He waited. Celia moved on the bed a little until she was facing where Stone stood. Her knees fell open a few inches.

  “Seeing that woman chained to the ceiling…” Celia began and then her voice drifted to silence. She shook her head in wonder, and her hair bounced and rippled across the smooth shape of her shoulders. “And when she was down on her hands and knees, Jack. I saw one of the men bring another woman over to her and they…”

  Stone nodded. “How did it make you feel?”

  “I don’t know,” she gasped suddenly. “I just don’t know. It’s what I’m trying to figure out,” she said. She stared at the window for a moment like the answer might be there. It wasn’t. “I was shocked… and I was aroused,” she confessed. “Very aroused.”

  “That’s good.”

  Celia shook her head. “It’s confusing, Jack. I’m not into women. I like men. But when I saw that submissive girl sink down and begin to pleasure the woman on her hands and knees with her mouth and tongue… I… well I just don’t know!”

  Stone smiled. “Celia, You’re normal,” Stone assured her. “You don’t have to be into other women to be deeply aroused by a scene like that. It’s not about being turned on by other women. That scene was about power, and power can be asexual. Power as an aphrodisiac transcends genders.”

  Celia thought about that for long moments, and some of the anxiety and tension seemed to melt from her body in a subtle wave of relief.

  “Oh,” she said softly. “Yes, of course.”

  Stone said nothing more. Just let her dwell on her thoughts and feelings while he took a can of Coke from the tiny refrigerator and shared it into two glasses. He took one to Celia and she clutched at it absently.

  Stone sat down on the bed beside her. He felt Celia shudder suddenly. She turned towards him, her face close to his.

  “Is that what BDSM is for you, Jack?” she asked him. “Is it all about power?”

  Stone thought about the question.

  “Partly,” he admitted. “I’m an alpha kind of guy, Celia. I like being in control, and I like being dominant,” he said. “Learning the skills of a master suited my personality – but it’s only half the story.”

  Celia smiled wistfully. “You’re such a contradiction, Jack. I saw the way you fight,” she said, looking up into his face and seeing the wolfish danger of him like a glint of steel in the shadows. “You’re the kind of bad-boy my mom warned me to avoid – and yet below that tough exterior, I get the feeling you’re a good man.”

  Stone stayed silent for a long moment. “It’s hard to make your mark in this word if you’re always walking on tip-toes,” he said at last. “I’m not trying to be anything other than the best man I can, Celia, whether people like me or not, makes no difference. I sleep with a clear conscience.”

  “Do you think BDSM scenes create the best sex?” she prompted him.

  Stone sipped at his drink. “I found that the best way to pleasure a woman is when she is submissive,” he said. “For me, anyhow. It is when we are in those rolls that I feel a woman is at her most natural and most instinctive – and that’s why the sex seems better for them. And that’s the other part of the equation,” he explained. “Because great sex can’t happen unless both people are enjoying the moment. If it’s only fun for one, it can only ever be average.”

  Celia paused, carefully framing her next question.

  “So… any woman who submits to you is guaranteed great sex?”

  To her amazement, Stone laughed. It was a natural, somehow reassuring sound of genuine delight, made rich and vibrant by the natural timbre of his voice. Celia felt a small thrill sizzle down the length of her spine and she noticed the way Stone’s face took on a totally different appearance – maybe becoming even more ruggedly handsome.

  “There are no guarantees,” Stone said. “But I haven’t had any complaints.”

  Celia blushed. “I bet you haven’t,” she muttered softly. And then – overwhelmed with an impulse she had been fighting with all her energy to resist – she threw her arms around Stone’s neck and kissed him fiercely.

  “Show me,” she breathed against his lips, crushing her body against the hard lean muscle of him. “Treat me as your submissive girl, Jack, so I’ll know exactly how great sex can be.”

  Stone kissed her back. His tongue teased her mouth, tasting the corners of her lips. His kiss was ravenous, his body tough and hot against her own.

  Celia pulled away for a moment, breathless and shaking.

  “I need you to know that I’m not normally like this, Jack,” she said defensively. “I don’t usually do casual sex.”

  The intensity in Stone’s eyes burned into her. “I assure you,” he said calmly. “There won’t be anything casual about it.”

  Then he kissed her harder, wrenching her lips apart and using his tongue like a weapon as he plundered her mouth. He pushed her down onto the bed and gripped his hand around her throat, forcing her chin up, making her mouth even more vulnerable to his. Celia’s eyes flashed wide and wild, and the desire in her eyes burned with the intensity of her lust.

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  Stone straddled her body, holding her captive, and ripped at the front clasp of her bra. Celia’s breasts were warm and firm and he bit and nipped at the flesh around her nipple
s until the sparks of pain and the ache of her need began to blend and blur into deep yearning for more.

  He reached back and found the hem of her skirt, then worked it up until it was bunched around her waist, exposing silken thighs and lacy suspenders, and the heat of her femininity. “Spread your legs,” Stone said, and there was a sexy husky growl in the back of his throat.

  She obeyed, and then threw her hands out to the side and grabbed at the bedspread so that her body was his to explore.

  Stone climbed off the bed. He tore off his t-shirt and slid out of his jeans. Celia raised her head off the mattress and watched.

  His body was all hard lean lines of muscle, broad and defined across the breadth of his chest and then becoming corrugated ripples across his abdomen, each contour clearly defined. His arms and shoulders were thick, roped and corded with veins that stood proud beneath the tautness of his flesh.

  Stone came to the foot of the bed. Celia felt her body twinge in melting heated anticipation. He was hard and vaulted, the arrogant maleness of him like a thick iron bar. Stone reached down and tore her suspenders off.

  “Get up,” Stone said. “Come here.”

  Despite the harshness of his voice, she went to him, unable and unwilling to resist, even though she could see the smoky look in his eyes and knew exactly what it meant. He was gazing at her like she was an object – and she had to crush down on a flicker of resentment, realizing that this was exactly what she had asked of him.

  She looked up to him, suddenly timid and breathless. “You… you won’t hurt me – will you?”

  Stone gave her an enigmatic smile of menace. “Not unless you want me to…”

  He took her into the bathroom. Pressed her up against the shower screen. Celia felt the cold touch of the glass against her breasts and she flinched.

  “Reach up, and take hold of the bar,” Stone ordered.

  The shower cubicle was a small square, with a sliding door of frosted glass that slid on tracks. Celia reached up for the top slider and grabbed the aluminum frame. Stone pulled the delicate fabric of her panties to one side and began stroking Celia with his long fingers. She groaned aloud. Then he circled her entrance with teasing touches, moving his hand so that it brushed gently against her sex – and then not so gently.

  Celia made a sound of helplessness, but then her hips began to rock against his hand, riding him as she clung desperately to the bar above her head.

  Stone tore at the thin fabric of her panties and the satin fell from her hips. The panties were damp with her arousal and perfumed with her scent. Stone tugged the skirt off her. Left it lying on the cold tiled floor.

  “Now I’m going to fuck you,” Stone said softly in her ear. She could feel the heat of him against her back, and feel the urgent press and demand of his body against the smooth cleft of her bottom. She arched her spine to give him better access and parted her legs as far as she could.

  Stone slid his hand back down over her skin, following the contours of her body until his fingers were possessively dipping within the warm cleft of her sex again. Celia made a throaty sensuous sound of need.

  “I’m going to take you, and use you for my pleasure,” he whispered. “I’m going to fuck you with long slow strokes, Celia, until you can’t take any more,” he said.

  Celia moaned softly. She tried to look over her shoulder to see the blaze in his eyes but her body was too taut, too finely stretched, so that all she could do was lay her cheek against the cold glass and close her eyes – concentrate on the sound of his voice – concentrate on breathing. She felt as though she might suffocate. Every breath was an effort. Every nerve in her body was strung tight to breaking point.

  “I’m going to give you this one night,” Stone said. “This one night of sex – and I swear to you, it will be a night you will never. Ever. Forget.”

  Celia gasped. She was trembling. It was a combination of the sound of Stone’s voice and the strained pressure on her thighs. She was tensed and flexed, drawn tight in anticipation, and the soft rhythmic slide of Stone’s fingers along the wet folds between her legs was only serving to heighten her anticipation. She whimpered softly. Then Stone clamped his hands around Celia’s hips and pushed himself into her from behind.

  She gasped, and then groaned. The breath left her body in a sudden long slow moan of wonder, and she felt the strength melt from her legs.

  Stone growled. Celia’s body felt tight and silken and gripping as he filled her. He pulled her back against him and thrust forward at the same instant so that his full length touched her deepest, most intimate places.

  Her breathing became hectic as he drove his hips forward into her again and again. She began to gasp with panting urgency. He sensed the tension within her body build as her grip on the bar above her head became clenched with her desperation. He reached around her with his left hand and squeezed her nipple, feeling her heart beating like a crazy hammer beneath her slim frame.

  “Do you want more?” Stone’s voice rasped.

  “Yes,” Celia hissed through tightly clenched teeth. “God, don’t stop, Jack. I want more. I need more!”

  He slapped her thigh hard and growled his lust. “I like that you know to beg,” he said. He grabbed at her hair and she opened her eyes, shocked into awareness. She caught a glimpse of his face. There was a compelling twist to his lips. He looked dark and sexily dangerous.

  And masterful.

  Stone kept hold of her hair and turned Celia around so that she was bent over the small bathroom sink. She folded forward at the waist and parted her legs for him. Clamped her hands on the rim of the basin and held her breath.

  Stone thrust himself back inside her. Celia moaned again. The desperate sense of feeling complete overwhelmed her instantly, like the satisfaction of an addictive craving. Then Stone caught hold of her hair and lifted her face.

  “Look at yourself,” his voice rasped. “Watch yourself in the mirror as I take you. I want you to see how you look and remember how it feels.”

  Celia stared into the mirror above the vanity. She saw her own reflection – saw her eyes wide with desire and her mouth open. Saw the way her breasts swayed in rhythm with each powerful thrust into her, and the peaked hardness of her nipples. She saw Stone behind her, his broad chest becoming flexed, and his corded forearms as they pinned her in place. She sobbed and gasped for air. She tightened her grip on the cold porcelain of the vanity until her knuckles turned white. She could feel the sensations of intense pleasure welling up within her, building pressure and threatening to overflow. She hung her head, licked her lips, and then glanced back at her reflection.

  Stone was watching her. Their eyes met in the mirror. His face was hard and dark. His eyes burned.

  “Touch yourself for me!” he said.

  Celia felt a flare of wicked shock. A surge of sinful passion flashed behind her eyes, and then suddenly the force of her orgasm struck. Her release ripped through her, starting in the pit of her stomach and racing to every part of her body like the tremendous pressure wave that follows an explosion. She cried out, and her body began to convulse against the restraint of Stone’s clamping grip, and somehow that sensation magnified the intensity of the moment so that for a split-second the world around her went dark.

  She cried out again, and then everything around her was bright and blinding, slowly ebbing back to reality in a series of ragged little whimpers and gasping breaths.

  Celia went limp. Her knees buckled. Her arms were shaking. Tiny ripples of pleasure lapped at the edges of her consciousness, merging with each other so that her whole body tingled. She felt light-headed, made giddy with the force of her release. She slumped against the edge of the vanity, only vaguely aware that Stone was still hard and hot and deep inside her.

  He stepped away and took Celia by the wrist. Led her to the big bed and laid her gently down. She looked up at him with dazed dreamy eyes.

  He stood over her beside the bed, cutting the rope she had purchased into lengths with
a pocket knife. She sighed, and her hand drifted languidly down across her breasts towards the place lower where the heat still lingered.

  She closed her eyes, and then felt Stone’s weight come onto the bed. Her legs spread for him, and yet he did not cover her. She felt herself drifting on a cloud of weary exhaustion, and then Stone was taking her by the wrist and tying her hands to the bedhead.

  He kissed her with long lingering passion and she felt herself beginning to stir again. She felt aching need to be filled by him once more begin to simmer, and she moaned into his mouth, her lips dewy and soft. She arched her back in a slow voluptuous movement, and he traced his fingers down her flank. She shivered under his touch and her hips tilted up instinctive and inviting as she tried to wrap her arm around his neck.

  She couldn’t.

  Stone broke the kiss and went to the foot of the bed. Celia began to come alert. She turned her head and saw that each wrist was bound and tied to the timber headboard. She frowned. The knots were snug, and complex. Maybe a little too snug… It’s not like she was going anywhere…

  She lifted her head. Stone was pulling on his jeans and t-shirt. Her eyes went suddenly wide with alarm.

  “Jack…?” her voice was confused. “What are you doing?”

  Stone stared down at her. Her legs were still parted, and he could see the puffy arousal of her sex, wet and swollen. He could see the tautness of her nipples. He came to the edge of the bed and sat down on the mattress. He slid his hand across her stomach and slowly let it glide towards her femininity.

  Then stopped.

  “I’m going back to The Cage,” he said.

  Celia frowned in a moment of confusion, and then her face became dark with outrage and alarm.

  “Not without me!” she said. “Jack – you’re not going back there without me, damn it.”

  He nodded. “I am.”

  Celia wrenched her hands against the bonds. The rope was not thick, but the knots were tied with expert skill. She couldn’t move. She tried again, furious and enraged as a trapped panther, and her eyes were wild and hateful.