Songbird

by A. J. Adams

  Solitaire was staring at me open mouthed. “Really?”

  “Really. So stop thinking that I see you as just another ho.”

  When Solitaire sat in silence, I thought that was it, and we could move on from there. I was just wondering if I should show her the blue suite first or take her straight to the dungeon when she stirred and sighed.

  “It’s not enough,” Solitaire said quietly. “You talk about loyalty, Arturo, but if you want me, that commitment has to go both ways.”

  Do you know, I was shocked? I’ve had women talk about love and a monthly allowance – and most have taken those as being one and the same thing – but none of them had ever talked about my being loyal to them. I just sat there, staring at her. “You mean you want an exclusive?”

  “Stop thinking with your little head, okay?” Solitaire sighed. “I know you can do whatever you want, and there’s nobody who would stop you, but you don’t want that, do you?”

  It actually sounded pretty good to me, but I’m not stupid, so I gave her the answer she wanted to hear. “No.”

  “I could run your house and go to bed with you, but if it’s just an arrangement, it would be an empty thing. If you want me, all of me, then we have to work this differently. We’d need to trust each other. That means no going hysterical if I go out without telling you, no accusations of any kind, no bullying and no other women – in other words, it means trust, loyalty and respect.”

  This was new territory, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted it.

  “And if you say yes, it doesn’t guarantee anything,” Solitaire mused. “I mean, people don’t always get along.”

  It sounded like a business proposition to me and I answered without even thinking, “So you’re asking me to invest in something that possibly has no future?”

  Solitaire was laughing. “Yeah, what’s wrong with that? Aren’t you a risk-taker?”

  “Actually, I’m not. I’m alive because I minimise my risks.”

  “I have first-hand experience of that,” Solitaire said dryly, “but it strikes me that you want me for a reason, and that’s because you’re bored with what you’ve had so far.”

  She hit that nail right on the head. Six months of permanently available gorgeous women who did whatever my evil heart desired had become boring even before I’d bedded Solitaire. To tell you the truth, that surprised the hell out of me.

  The first girl lasted a month, the second a fortnight, and after that it had been a new face every ten days. I put it down to the girls being pros, which meant their heart was purely on the money. Fucking is always fun, but when you’ve had girlfriends as well as hookers, it’s the girlfriends you remember most. There’s something about actually liking someone that makes sex magical. Call me a pussy if you like, but it’s true.

  I knew already that other women had palled for me, so giving Solitaire an exclusive wasn’t a problem, but I wasn’t sure if I could deal with an equal partner. I’m a control freak, you see. It’s not pretty, but I know what I am.

  “You can have any number of women, Arturo, and for some men that’s enough, but if you really want to live, you’re going to have to take risks.”

  I was still thinking it over. “You mean like a relationship?”

  Solitaire was laughing. “Yes! For goodness sake, Arturo! You look as shocked as a virgin at a fuckfest! Do you think because you’re a cartel boss that you can’t have a normal relationship?”

  Frankly, that was exactly what I was thinking. Part of the reason I’d never had what Solitaire called a normal relationship was that I’d always kept work and sex strictly separate. Sure, the regular girls I’d dated knew about my business, but what you don’t see, you can forget about. Also, I planned our time together very, very carefully.

  Having Solitaire live with me like an equal partner, able to come and go as she pleased and to do what she liked, meant she’d see it all. I wasn’t sure if she could cope with that. She could tell herself that what I did to Escamilla was all right because he’d raped her, but it would be different if she saw me deal with someone she didn’t hate.

  “Solitaire, can you accept my work, my life? Because I can’t change. I am what I am. And my business gets rough.”

  “I know that, Arturo.” Solitaire paused and I could see she was coming to a decision. “There’s something you should know,” she said slowly. “When I had that accident at Escamilla’s, something funny happened. Well, not funny exactly. I lost my memory.”

  “Yes, Kyle said.”

  “Oh!” Solitaire was genuinely taken aback. “So how then can he be sure –?”

  “You hate the cops. Even if you’ve forgotten why, the hatred goes deep. So deep that Kyle says you can’t bring yourself to work with them.”

  “Well, he got that right,” Solitaire confided. “I think plod, and I instantly lose it.”

  “How much do you remember?”

  Solitaire shrugged. “Not much. When Kyle doped me up, I got some more back, but it’s like a dozen memories.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. I think I’m only getting the stuff that made a serious impression. Some of it’s funny, like being chased by a camel in the desert and watching some amazing double-jointed topless bint hang from a stripper pole and pour a martini with her toes.”

  “That sounds like Night Flight in Moscow.”

  Solitaire grinned. “Really? I wonder if I’ve been to Russia?”

  I would have thought it would be terrifying not to know, but Solitaire didn’t seem that bothered.

  “There’s some fun stuff, but most of what’s come back is dark,” she said thoughtfully, “like visiting mum in the hospital and being tasered by McKlutsky.”

  “I’ll kill him!”

  It came out instinctively. I don’t usually identify with people who aren’t family, but the thought of anyone hurting Solitaire made me mad.

  “Killing a copper is dangerous,” Solitaire said judiciously. “But if you beat the crap out of him, that should be okay. The wanker set me up twice, and he deserves a good bashing. But do it when I’m around, please. I want to watch.”

  Definitely a girl after my own heart. “Next time we’re in London, you get a ringside seat. Promise.”

  Solitaire sighed. “From what I do remember, I decided that the system only works for the people in charge, so I now look after me and mine, and the rest of the world can go to hell. I do what I want, when I want, and I don’t give a damn about any laws.”

  “See, I’ve found the perfect girl.”

  My light answer cheered Solitaire up. “Right. I’ve been living on the sharp end, and what I want now is to belong. I need a home, a life and someone to share it with.” Those deep blue eyes were gazing into mine. “I like you, Arturo, and you like me. The sex works for us, and we’re both pretty hardnosed. So I’m asking: are you up for it?”

  I hesitated, wondering if it would work. Then I thought about what life without Solitaire would be like. “Yes.” That answer came straight from the heart.

  She was giving me an odd look. “You’re uncertain.”

  “I know I want you.”

  “All terms and conditions okay?”

  It made me uneasy, but I could see I couldn’t have her without them. “All right.”

  Solitaire was silent a moment and then she smiled. “I’m not saying it will be rainbows and roses,” she cautioned me. “I think I’m not the easiest person to be with.”

  “I’m a prince, so we’ll be fine.”

  “Arsehole!”

  She was giggling, playfully punching my arm. At the sight of her laughing eyes, my breath caught in my throat. Now I had it all: beauty, brains and a sweet slut, all on a plate and all mine. For a moment I couldn’t believe it.

  “What happens next?” Solitaire asked.

  “I hear make-up sex is the best.”

  Solitaire swallowed, tried to look cool and failed. “Would it involve that flogger you mentioned?”

  Her voice sounded
hoarse, and she was a little flushed. I could see those pierced nipples stand up underneath her top. Solitaire was excited. I could tell this was going to be fun.

  “Been flogged before?”

  “Don’t know.”

  I was on the point of rolling her into the roses and having her. I didn’t, because I wanted our first time here to be superb. Yeah, romantic huh?

  I stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Come and see my dungeon.”

  My dungeon is very possibly my favourite place on earth. It’s only accessible via a lift to my bedroom upstairs. My private world has scarlet and black walls, black flooring and no windows. I’ve everything from a St Andrew’s cross to my very own rack, and the ceiling is rigged with anchor points for the sex swing and ropes. The lighting varies from bright white to red to purple spots. And of course it’s soundproof. Apart from the playroom, there’s a prison cell, a bedroom with a massive custom-made bed with a mirror on the ceiling, and a bathroom with a sunken bath.

  You could live down here if you wanted to. In fact, I had a girl from China about three months ago, Ying-tai, who arrived, went down to the dungeon and didn’t surface until her ten days were up. Except for the man on the gate, nobody saw her come in, and nobody realised she was here. Luz, my housekeeper, might have noticed some extra supper dishes, but it’s doubtful. It’s just as well I’m not a serial killer; I’ve got the perfect set-up.

  Solitaire took one look and swallowed. “Jesus, I don’t know if this is a nightmare or a dream.”

  I did something I rarely do. “We can take it slow.”

  Those big blue eyes were examining me. “Is that what you usually do?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so.” It didn’t seem to worry her. Solitaire looked around and sighed. “I’ve no idea if I’ve done this before. Isn’t that weird?”

  Part of me hated the thought of anyone ever having touched her, which was really stupid and juvenile. The other part of me was curious. “What do you remember of the fuckers you’ve been with?”

  Solitaire collapsed in giggles. “Talk about possessive!” Then she saw my face and hugged me. “You are sweet to care, Arturo.”

  Sweet, really – she had no idea. If she gave me names, I might just take out some contracts.

  “I remember being slapped about a lot but nothing in the bedroom,” Solitaire confessed. She smiled at me. “It’s kind of like being a virgin again, I guess.”

  “I’ll do anything to make you happy.” The words ripped out of me.

  “Think you’ll know when I hit my limit?”

  “Just tell me to stop.”

  “Is this the same man who told me ‘no safe words’?”

  “You get safe words. Anything you want, Solitaire. Just name it.” That was my gut talking again. My brain wasn’t involved in this conversation at all. It was the right thing to say, though.

  “I had a blast in England,” Solitaire sighed. “You lead, Arturo. To the limit and beyond it, right?”

  She gave herself to me without reservation, and suddenly my hands were shaking.

  Chapter Twelve: Solitaire

  Dear lord, that dungeon! Black and red, leather and steel. It was a sight that went straight through me, paralyzing my lungs and making my insides clench with shivers that were equal parts fear and excitement. It was the scariest and most intoxicating place I’d ever been in. All right, seeing I wasn’t exactly overrun with memories, that might not mean much, but I was damn sure I’d never seen anything like this.

  “Do you like it?”

  Arturo was standing so close to me that I could feel the heat from his body on my skin. It was cool down here, not surprising considering we were underground and that there were no windows. No windows and no doors – only that lift, tucked away in a corner behind a machine that looked like a rack. I was a million miles away from home, but that thing was straight from the Tower of London.

  “It’s interesting.”

  And just before, when Arturo had casually mentioned his flogger, my voice had gone squeaky again. Interesting? Who was I kidding? My insides were doing flip-flops, my face was turning pink, and I could hear myself begin to pant. Interesting, my arse. I was turned on as hell.

  Arturo put his arms around me. The silk shirt he wore whispered against my skin while the warm solidity of his body underneath and the hooded look in those dark brown eyes were playing merry hell with my lungs, turning every breath into a gasp. A pulse began beating between my legs.

  “Want to play?”

  The soft words in my ear went straight to my clit, strangling my vocal chords on the way. “Gah.”

  He took that as a yes, and I found myself hanging onto his shoulders, my knees entirely liquid as he undressed me. The fuchsia blouse that had cost a bomb in a little boutique in Oxford Street slid to the ground, followed by my jeans. I stood there, shivering with nerves and excitement, unable to look away from those dark eyes. The pulse between my legs was now drumming steadily.

  He must have known that I’d fall to my knees if he let me go, because he held me up with one arm while running the ball of his thumb over the lacey cups of my bra, teasing the tightly puckered flesh underneath. The pulse turned into a tattoo.

  “Sweet sirena.”

  That hard mouth smiled and dipped, sucking lightly at the barbells beneath the thin material. I stood there, swaying as if intoxicated, every fibre of my being centred on that gentle touch. I couldn’t see, couldn’t move. The universe was filled with that touch.

  His hands swept over my back, freeing my breasts, spilling them against those sweet sucking lips. The gentle touch became insistent, his teeth nipping my soft flesh, sending shivers of pleasure rushing through my body.

  I hung in his arms, whimpering with desire. His arms slid around me, pulling my body hard against his. His lips sought mine, his tongue sweeping over my lips. A long drugging kiss, punctuated by his hands running over my back, running along my spine before sliding underneath the silk knickers, drenched now with my want.

  “Corazón! Me vuelves loco!”

  I was drowning in love, melting in his sweetness.

  “I want you.” Chestnut eyes gazed into mine. “Possession,” he husked. “I need you, sirena.”

  His hands moved again, pushing the thin silk of my knickers to join my bra on the floor. I leaned against him, feeling the cool air of the dungeon waft over my heated flesh. Drugged with desire, scarcely able to keep my eyes open, I was aware of his cock straining hot and hard against me. His breath was ragged. Arturo wanted me as much as I wanted him.

  I leaned into him, kissing the warm taut skin rising from that soft silk shirt. His lemony scent tantalised and teased my senses. I could feel my heartbeat drumming in my nipples and clit.

  “The flogger,” he murmured.

  My body froze. I stopped breathing. I hung on him, suspended in time.

  A gentle push, and I was facing a leather covered X-frame placed by a scarlet wall. He lifted my wrist, kissed it lightly and raised it high to the corner of the X, snapping it into a leather covered restraint. He kissed my other wrist, lifted it, and then I was leaning against the leather crossbeam, my arms spread wide and high above my head. A knee between my legs, and a few snaps, and I was spread out, locked in place.

  He stood behind me, running his hands over my boobs, rolling the balls of his thumbs over the barbells in my nipples, blowing in my ears, and rubbing up against me with his straining cock, letting me feel how much he wanted me. I wanted him so badly that I heard myself whimpering.

  “Not yet, sirena, not yet.”

  A whisper of silk and the handkerchief he always carried in his pocket was tied around my eyes. My breath was coming out in short, sharp excited gasps. The drum between my legs was drowning in juices. Spread out and helpless, my body resting against the leather, I could just touch the wall with my forehead. It was padded, the soft leather cool against my skin.

  He stepped back, and all I could hear was the blood thund
ering in my ears.

  “Ready, sweetheart?”

  He was back, trailing strands of soft suede over my shoulders. The flogger. I could see it in my mind’s eye: a long handle ending in a bunch of thin suede strips.

  I couldn’t speak, but he ran his hand up the inside of my thigh and chuckled. “So ready,” he whispered. “So hot. So wet.” He stood back. “Here it comes.”

  The first blow landed on my shoulders, the tails fanning out, thudding onto my skin. A second blow, slightly lower down, spread the warmth. It was like percussion massage, that warming tattoo of being beaten with the sides of the hands. It was relaxing yet invigorating.

  He worked the flogger down my side, reaching all the way to my arse, and then, teasing, he avoided my thighs, and moved up the other side. By the time he reached my shoulders again, I was flooded with warmth, moaning continuously, revelling in the thud of the suede against my skin.

  “We’ll turn it up a notch.”

  I heard the words through a haze of delight. Then the flogger landed again, fiercer and faster. Before I could draw breath, it landed on the other side. One, two, one, two... With each intake of breath, another blow fell into place. I sensed he was sweeping the flogger in a figure of eight, bringing it down hard and bringing it back up with a curl of the wrist before driving it down again. The warmth was turning to fire, and I was singing, crying from pleasure, begging for more.

  He worked his way up and down my back three times, and then stopped, leaving me ready to explode, dying for his touch, moaning for more.

  “Not yet, sirena.”

  I was almost weeping for him, kissing the hand that ran over my lips. He was pushing something against my forehead.

  “And now, a game.” His voice was warm yet husky. I could feel his rod pushing into my back: huge, hard and hot despite his still being fully dressed.

  I wanted him so badly that I was whimpering. “Please don’t stop. Please.”