by Wild, Cassie
I had just ducked behind one of them, tucking my skirt in tight so none of the plaid showed. It was dark down there. I just hoped it was dark enough and that nobody looked in this direction.
“Come on inside, Raymond,” Marcos said, and I heard the click as a door was unlocked.
“I heard your new brother-in-law ran into trouble in New York,” Raymond said.
Marcos chuckled. “He did, indeed. Arrogant prick.”
“You have anything to do with that?” Raymond sounded amused.
“I might have helped…facilitate things.”
Now it was the unknown Ramon’s turn to laugh. “Facilitate things? Is that the new way of saying a hit was ordered?”
Hit?
Although English was my second language and some of the idioms went over my head, I understood that word. Understood its meaning.
And my blood ran cold.
Hoping I wasn’t about to get caught, I crept closer. Their voices had grown faint, and I could barely hear them now. Marcos closed the door, and although I heard his voice, whatever he said was too faint for me to hear, and I had to know what they were talking about.
Slipping out from behind the fern that had been my only protection, I eased closer to the door, keeping my back pressed against the wall.
I could hear them now, but only faintly.
“… trying to kill him or did you just want him hurt?”
Marcos spoke again, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice as he replied, “Just hurt. If he’d been killed, his family would have turned over every stone to find who did it.”
Hot anger burned in my gut.
Opening my eyes, I stared at the wall in front of me, my mind spinning furiously. I wished desperately that I’d had my phone. If I could have recorded this…
But that was a waste of time.
Somewhere off in the dark, a floorboard creaked, and I jumped at the sound.
A new set of voices caught my attention, and I pushed away from the wall. I had to get out of there before I got caught.
Desperately, I cast one last look at the door. Then, moving as quickly as I could, I started down the hall.
Every step I took, I feared I’d hear that door open, that Marcos would see me.
If he did…
I had little doubt about what he might do, starting with one thing and ending with another. I could only imagine the pain and humiliation he was capable of causing, what he would cause if he saw me.
But he didn’t.
I made it to the end of the hall and turned left, hurrying back to the party.
What I wanted to do was get out of there. I wanted to run away, very far away.
I couldn’t, though.
I’d come here looking for information, and I’d gotten it.
But it wasn’t enough. I needed more…and I needed proof.
* * *
Marcos returned to the room before I’d even finished gathering up a fresh tray of drinks. The skin on the back of my neck crawled just looking at him. More than once, I found him watching me, and I carefully avoided meeting his gaze.
I’d developed a pattern to evade both him and the wandering hands of the partygoers. More than a few of the guests were looking for more than just the glasses of champagne I carried on the tray.
I set my jaw tight against the anger burning inside.
Being here now was the last thing I wanted to do, even more now than before.
Who was I supposed to tell about this information?
I knew I needed to let Brooks know, but I didn’t know how I could reach out to him and tell him what I’d learned without letting him know how I’d learned it.
I had no plans to call things off until I was done doing what I needed to do. But how long could I keep quiet about this? Would Marcos try something else?
It was a heavy weight in my chest as I moved among the partygoers.
One of the men hailed me down, and I stopped in front of him, using my tray like a shield as I offered him a glass.
He took it and asked me for my name. I had to bite my tongue against the urge to tell him it wasn’t his business. Through that plastic smile, I told him, “It’s Katarina.”
I edged away when nobody else in his party took a glass from the tray, but a prickling on the back of my neck had me going still. I turned my head, searching for the source of that prickling.
I almost dropped my tray when I saw him.
Brooks stood less than a dozen feet away, staring at me with what could only be described as shock.
I understood the feeling well. He was the very last person I’d expected to see there.
My heart thundered in my chest, pounding against my ribs with what felt like bruising force.
What was he doing here?
Heat crawled up my neck as I saw him taking in the ridiculous outfit, from the lace bra that covered my breasts to the short skirt on down to the white stockings that went up over my knees and the black patent leather Mary Janes.
He’d seen me naked, but in that moment, I’d never felt more exposed. Humiliation burned inside.
What was I supposed to do now?
He was never supposed to know about this.
Did I go over to him?
Did I pretend not to have noticed him?
He started in my direction, and I knew that wasn’t much of an option.
He was still almost ten feet away when a man came up behind me and grabbed my hip, hauling me back against him. The tray I’d been fighting so hard to keep steady now wobbled precariously in my shaking hands.
“You look like a dirty little schoolgirl. Want to teach me a lesson?” the man behind me murmured in my ear.
I didn’t even have time to come up with a reply before Brooks appeared in front of me, towering over us.
“She’s with me,” he said in a tight voice, his eyes burning into mine for a long moment before he flicked his gaze to the man behind me. “Get your hands off…and get away.”
The man behind me started to protest, but something he saw on Brooks’ face had him yanking his hands away. He let me go so abruptly, I staggered, and the tray wobbled once more. I barely managed to right it before calling more attention to myself by dropping the whole thing, although one of the flutes of champagne did tip over.
A few drops splashed across my bare midriff as Brooks moved in closer.
He took the tray from me. I swallowed as he turned to shove it into the empty hands of one of the caterers.
He caught my hand in his, and before I knew it, he was pulling me along behind him at a clip so fast, I had to practically jog to keep up.
“Slow down,” I said urgently when one of my heels wobbled, threatening to break my ankle. “These shoes aren’t really made for running.”
He glanced at me, looking like he wanted to argue, but he did slow his steps a fraction.
He made twists and turns, and I was soon lost in the cavernous house. When he finally slowed, it was to pull open a door, and once he checked inside, he tugged on my hand, drawing me into the space.
He turned to face me, and I braced myself for the questions, the accusations.
I wasn’t prepared for the brutal assault of his mouth on mine, and as he pushed his way inside my mouth, I moaned.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I arched against him in surrender. One big hand settled on my ass under the brief hem of my skirt.
The heat of his skin seeped into my flesh, which had gone cold the moment our eyes met, and he witnessed me dressed in clothes barely large enough to be worthy of the name.
He still wanted me.
I didn’t know what would happen after this, but for now, he still wanted me.
He spun us around and placed my back against the door behind me. The hard, wooden surface contrasted delightfully with his hard, warm body. Through the bra, I could feel the wall of his chest, and my nipples drew tight, tingling.
He grabbed the strap of my bra and yanked it down, kissing
a hot line down my neck on his way to the breast he’d just exposed. I cried out as his mouth closed around me, teeth and tongue working the stiff peak until it throbbed.
With a whimper, I shoved my hands into his hair, already aching for the hard thrust of his body.
“Brooks…”
The second I gasped out his name, his mouth returned to mine, tongue driving deep. He gripped my hips and guided my legs up until I had them wrapped around his waist. He then proceeded to rock against me. The thin strip of the G-string that covered me was absolutely no barrier to the heavy ridge of his cock, and I whimpered yet again as he pumped against me.
He grabbed the material of the G-string and jerked. I felt it tear, then it was gone.
He lowered me to the floor and growled against my lips, “Take me out, Daria.”
I did so with shaking hands, my hunger deep and all consuming. Once I’d dragged down his zipper, I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked him from root to tip. He closed his hand around mine, squeezing lightly.
I followed the silent command and tightened my fist. He pulsed in my hand. I whimpered as an answering ache echoed between my thighs.
He caught my lip between his teeth and tugged.
Reflexively, I tightened my hand around his cock.
He groaned.
Realizing what I was doing, I eased up on my grip.
“No…again. Just like that,” he muttered, biting my lip once more.
I squeezed him again, and he rocked into my hand.
The moment was erotic and hot, and I already felt so primed, so crazy ready for him. My hips pumped forward, and I gasped out in shock as he slid his fingers over the silken triangle of my panties, pressing against me through the material before dipping inside.
“You’re so wet…” he muttered against my lips. “So slick and hot. Tell me you’re ready.”
“Please…you know I am.”
He pulled the damp fabric away from my flesh with one hand. With the other, he tugged my hand away from his cock. A noise caught in my throat as he boosted me up once more, this time moving between my thighs and replacing his questing fingers with the blunt, hard tip of his penis.
Arching my back, I whimpered as he pushed inside.
He wasn’t gentle. He pressed against me while simultaneously pulling me down onto him. He didn’t even give me a chance to adjust before he withdrew, then slammed back into me. The noise that escaped me defied definition—a whimper, a groan, a squeal, all wrapped up into one.
Brooks grunted and swiveled his hips, then drove back inside me. He adjusted the angle of my hips, and the next rough drive of his body into mine had him rubbing my clitoris.
Heat burned in me, so intense, so all consuming. I tightened my legs around his hips and tried to hold him inside me. He responded by catching my legs and unwrapping them, hooking one knee over each of his elbows.
As he held me pinned and impaled, his cock felt massive inside me.
“Look at me.”
Helpless to do anything else, I lifted my eyes and stared at him.
His eyes bored into mine as he withdrew, then thrust inside me, again and again. Each thrust knocked the wind out of me, and I was helpless, wrapped up in the power of the sensations bombarding me.
Oxygen burned inside my lungs, the air as hot as everything else taking place within me.
He swelled in me, the head of his cock pressing against that sensitive spot deep inside.
Shuddering, I clung to him, begging now.
Brooks cupped my ass, his fingers pressing against the seam running between my cheeks. I gasped as the tip of one penetrated me there, pushing just barely inside that tight area.
“Come for me, Daria,” Brooks demanded, his mouth going to my neck.
He pushed his finger deep, while at the same time, slamming me with ferocity.
The orgasm slammed into me, and what precious little air I had left evaporated with my ragged cry.
Brooks stiffened, and a guttural groan vibrated out of him.
I felt his cock jerk as he came.
He muttered my name against my ear. Curling my hand around his neck, I tugged him closer, as close as I could.
It still wasn’t close enough.
Thirteen
Brooks
Her breathing was still ragged.
So was mine.
She was shaking.
So was I.
The room around us was dark, the air heavy and humid. I could smell her, on my clothes, on my skin.
My brain was still struggling to process the fact that she was here, that I’d found her, that she was safe. A little slower, I started to process just where I’d found her, what she’d been doing.
Anger burned inside me, and I thought that if Marcos was in my sight at that moment, I would have killed him.
That single thought burned away the fog in my brain.
Carefully, I eased away from her, smoothing down the pathetic excuse for a skirt that she wore as she lowered her legs to the floor.
She swayed. I waited until she was steady before I moved away. Once I’d turned my back, I tugged up my zipper and adjusted my clothes. Shoving my hands through my hair, I drew in a deep breath and forced my thoughts into order.
My temper was threatening to burn out of control, but I got a grip on it as I paced a few steps away.
Of all the places I’d expected to find Daria, one of Marcos’ booze and drug orgies hadn’t even been on the list.
Maybe it should have been, knowing Marcos as I did.
Marcos.
Slowly, I turned and looked at her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, and I could see the nerves dancing in her eyes.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Nobody touched you?”
She dragged her tongue across her lips and hesitated for so long, I started to see red.
“No, Brooks. Nobody touched me…not like that.”
Her eyes held mine levelly, and I knew she was telling the truth, but I couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by…not like that. My mind turned her words over, and I came to a conclusion.
She hadn’t been raped…but she had been touched.
My thoughts went hazy with anger once more.
She’d been dancing again.
And I knew how some guys acted with strippers, especially in a club like the one owned by the Castellanos.
I closed my eyes against the anger burning inside. “What were you thinking, Daria?”
She didn’t answer me, and I opened my eyes, glaring at her.
She flinched as I took a step toward her, and it pissed me off. I held still even though all I wanted to do was go to her and drag her against me, hold tight and never let go.
But I was fighting a surge of rage so intense, it practically consumed me.
I squeezed my hands into fists so tight my knuckles ached as she turned away. In a rapid, jerky motion, she locked the door. Her shoulders slumped on a heavy breath, and she sagged forward, pressing her forehead against the wooden surface of the door.
She looked fragile. Helpless. The thought pissed me off all over again.
I reached out a hand, but in the end, I just lowered it to my side as I gazed at her.
“What were you thinking?” I asked again, the words coming out through a throat tight with tension. “Coming down here like this? After what happened last time?”
Fourteen
Daria
The room was vibrating.
I closed my eyes against the sensation, and that was when I realized it wasn’t the room.
It was me.
My entire body felt like I’d grabbed onto a live wire, but instead of causing destruction, my being was suffused with sensation. Almost too much sensation. It didn’t help that my brain was whirling inside my head. Words like what…how…please…touch seemed to reverberate through my consciousness, but when I opened my mouth to speak, I c
ouldn’t manage to form even one single, coherent sentence.
“Are you hurt?”
Brooks’ question came in a raw, hoarse demand. Still unable to speak just yet, I shook my head mutely. The way he watched me was intense, so intense. My skin burned under the hard scrutiny of his eyes, and I couldn’t suppress a shiver.
That midnight gaze seemed to consume me as he asked, “You’re sure?”
“I’m okay.” Finally. My throat managed to work in time with the rest of my body, and I was able to squeeze those words out, although my voice shook.
“Nobody touched you?”
The question caught me off guard. People had been touching me in ways I didn’t like for what felt like a lifetime. The first time I’d danced for Duardo, then again over the past days.
But none of it had even come close to the liberties men had been taking since I walked into this house, carrying a tray of drinks and trying hard to pretend none of this was really happening.
It had all stopped with touching, although the looks I’d gotten had made me very certain I didn’t want to get caught alone with any number of the men I’d run across here at Marcos’ party.
I could tell Brooks that, but I didn’t think it would help.
I chose, instead, to answer the question I saw in his eyes. Licking my lips, I took a deep breath before responding.
“No, Brooks. Nobody touched me…not like that.”
A muscle bunched in his jaw. It started to twitch as he watched me, and I knew my vague answer hadn’t satisfied him. But I couldn’t tell him any more right now. I didn’t want him storming out there and trying to find everybody who’d looked at me sideways.
I could see by the watchful way he studied me that it wasn’t answer enough.
“What were you thinking, Daria?”
The hard edge of his voice startled me, and my nerves, already stretched thin, twanged inside. I couldn’t have stopped the way I flinched as he stared at me any more than I could have stopped breathing.
He wouldn’t hurt me.
I knew that.
There was just too much tension in the air, too much anger and confusion…and fear. My fear. The door was still against my back, steadying me as I eased away, looking down at the knob.
