The Lady (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 14)

by Golden Angel

  The blue gown was beautiful, but not his preferred state of dress for her.

  As soon as they crossed the threshold into the bedroom, he leaned her back for a hard kiss, his tongue dueling with hers before sliding away. Dropping her feet down and steadying her, he kept kissing her as he undid the buttons down the back of her dress. He might have torn it from her if he had not seen how much she liked it when she put it on. Occasionally, she may require a dress, and this one did look particularly comely on her. Even better, it was not pink.

  Once the dress slid from her body, leaving her naked, he pulled away from the kiss and reached into his pocket for the collar he’d bought her that morning. No longer a thin strip of leather, this was gold-plated steel with a special lock, once set, could not be undone. The only way for it to be removed was for it to be cut off, and even then, it would take a blacksmith’s tools.

  “It’s beautiful...” Delilah stretched her neck out, eagerly accepting its cool clasp about her throat.

  “You will not be able to take it off,” he told her, the lock clicking into place.

  “I will never want to,” she said firmly.

  “Good girl.” Spinning her around, he bent her over the bed and smiled when he saw her pussy was already swollen, wet, and eager for his cock.

  First things first, though. He opened the box with her new tail and liberally smeared oil across its surface before pressing it against her anus. She wriggled and cried out, her bottom lifting as it swallowed the plug, leaving her panting and even more aroused than before.

  “Please, Master, please,” she begged. “I need you inside me.”

  He was certainly not deaf to such a pretty plea, but... Running appreciative hands over the swells of her bottom, he squeezed her flesh, then turned slightly, lifting one hand and bringing it down with a hefty whack.

  SMACK!

  Delilah shrieked, feet kicking up, but like any well-trained pet, she remained bent over the bed where he’d put her, despite the pain now throbbing through her bottom.

  “Do not ever doubt me again, pet.”

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  The Tramp’s Lady

  The hard swats stung as they landed, making Delilah shriek and wriggle, even as her arousal shot higher. The punishment inflamed her as much as it chastised her. She knew what he was speaking about. She had not truly believed he would protect her, that he would come for her, but he had proven her wrong. She should have trusted him.

  “You could have seriously harmed yourself, climbing out of that window,” he scolded before landing another hard swat, this one on the sensitive spot between her thigh and her bottom.

  Delilah howled as a matching one came down on the other side. Those stung the most, far more than when he spanked her anywhere else. Yet even as the heat in her bottom grew, so too did the fire in her core. Her bottom clenched around her tail, but she was still far too empty. She wanted, needed, Henry’s cock inside her, but she knew that would not come until he was done punishing her.

  Every slap of his hand against her skin throbbed, her flesh becoming hot and swollen from the blows. Tears began to slide down her cheeks, and she writhed against the sheets, her nipples rubbing against the fabric with pleasurable stimulation that provided an erotic counterpoint to her throbbing bottom. Her fingers curled, gripping the bed to keep from putting her hands back to cover the flaming skin of her bottom.

  She did not regret her impetuous climb from the window, even though Henry was right about the dangers. The act had proven to her she was stronger than she had realized. She did regret it made Henry feel as though she did not believe in him, and truthfully, she had not when it came down to it. So, she took her punishment, her bottom full of plug, her pussy empty and aching, and loved every moment as much as she hated it.

  The moment the spanking stopped, his cock was pressing at her pussy and thrusting in, splitting her open. She was so slick with arousal, he slid into her easily, filling her completely, the ache of emptiness quickly replaced by the burn of her muscles, stretching around his thick length. Not giving her a moment to adjust, his hands curled around her waist, pinning her in place. Fucking her roughly from behind, his body slapped against her hot cheeks in a pleasurably painful staccato that was almost like a second spanking. Delilah cried out, euphoria sizzling through her, the pain and pleasure wrapping around each other and spinning her into a chaotic mess. Her body sang with the hot bliss and exquisite pain, like an orchestra of sensation, swelling and crescendoing to the highest peak.

  She screamed with triumphant ecstasy, her body shuddering and clenching around him, the waves of rapture going on and on and on while he emptied himself into her.

  The Tramp

  Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to make their wedding day special, in many regards, it was like any other.

  His pet did not seem upset, though. She preened whenever anyone noticed her new collar and was constantly stroking it with her fingertips. Whenever she was sitting by his side, she was pressed into his leg, one arm casually wrapped around his calf, as if she could not bear not to be touching him. Henry felt much the same way, and his hand was constantly on her hair, stroking the soft strands fondly.

  That night, on the balcony, was the first time he fucked her as she looked down at their audience. Whether any of them recognized her, he did not know, nor did he care. Her orgasm was explosive and met with cheers from the lords and gentlemen below.

  Curled up in his bed, in his arms, she nuzzled her nose against his chest hair.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  A strange emotion seized Henry, gripping his heart as if she’d thrust her hand through his chest and held it with her delicate fingers. Love? That had not been part of the bargain.

  Yet... he would have burned down the world to find her.

  Had married her, so he never had to let her go.

  Put a collar on her that could not be removed.

  Claimed her in every way he possibly could.

  In the darkness, with no one to see them, the Tramp finally admitted his vulnerability.

  “I love you, too.”

  His lady smiled.

  Epilogue

  The Tramp

  Two Months Later

  His sweet pet was bent over in her favorite position, hands on the rail of the balcony in front of her, her leash trailing down her back and wrapped securely in his hand. When he pulled hard enough, her back would arch, head falling back, and breasts thrusting forward, down to the eager spectators below. His cock pumped in and out of her tight ass, making her squeal and cry out as much from the rough thrusts as from her arousal at being watched.

  To their left, both Butch and Frank were standing, cocks in hand, watching with pure lust as Henry fucked her arse. They could look, but they could not touch. Everyone could look, but they could not have her. No, his sweet little debutante turned debased pet was all his. No one would recognize her as Lady Delilah Darling anymore. She was—and forever would be—his lady.

  Her tight arse spasmed around his cock, and he slapped her already reddened ass, making her tighten around him again.

  Cheers rang out below as she cried out in ecstasy and curses. The men had taken to betting on how long it would take her to climax whenever Henry fucked her during the evening. It was one of their favorite games.

  Feeling the tight grip of her arse pulling at him, Henry groaned and buried himself inside her. The clenching muscles of her narrow channel pulled at him, milking his cock of its seed. Panting, he bent over her as she hung down in front of him, arms trembling from holding herself in position.

  “Good girl.” He breathed the words, giving her a kiss between her shoulder blades. Her arse spasmed again in response, pulling one last spurt of pleasure from him.

  Butch approached them, holding out her tail, breathing hard himself. He tended to bring himself to completion while watching them fuck, whereas Frank would disappear for a bit to find one of the tarts, often reenacting whatever Henry
and Delilah had done. Accepting the tail with a nod, Henry pulled himself from Delilah’s tight hole, then pushed her tail back in before any of his cum could escape. She whimpered as the sore orifice was filled again but did not protest. Just having his seed plugged inside of her would arouse her all over again, and by the time they returned to their room, she’d be eager to take him in her mouth and revive his cock to its full potential, so he could fuck her before bed.

  Down on the floor, no longer caring about the occupants of the balcony, now that the show was over, the gambling recommenced.

  His pet dropped to her knees, leaning her head against his thigh, so he could stroke her hair while he surveyed his domain.

  The Runners had not been back since the time they’d taken her away. Lady Felton was no longer a concern. Her granddaughters had not been able to keep their mouths shut about the ‘uncouth’ man who had carried Delilah off in the middle of the night. They had paid for their loose tongues when the ton turned on them, horrified Lady Felton had allowed her ward to be abducted and wed to a common ruffian. Lord Greene had kicked up a fuss, but since Henry had legally married her, there was nothing he could do. Delilah had written to him and Lady Greene, explaining she was very happy with her life, but the letter had gone unanswered. That weighed on her, but it was likely for the best. If Greene had said anything unkind to her, Henry would have been forced to deal with him, and he knew his pet was grateful to the man and his wife.

  Rowdy Roddy’s crew was now being run by a man by the name of Stone and were no longer quite so rowdy. Unlike Roddy, Stone had real brains. As for poor Roddy, his body had been found in the Thames a fortnight ago. No one seemed to have any idea how he might have ended up there, and only a few even seemed to care to speculate.

  A soft arm snaked around Henry’s calf, fingers resting gently on his boot, and he smiled.

  All was right with his world… as long as he had his lady.

  The Black Fox - Sneak Peek

  For fifteen years I was the Black Fox, the hero of Spain, the good-luck devil. I made my enemies dance to my tune and fall to my sword.

  The day must come when every hero hangs up his cape, and for me, it was the day I outsmarted the curse. I would not die for love, because I didn’t love the woman I married. Valeria Hernandez didn’t love me.

  Then I met her. Lolita. Fresh from boarding school, as beautiful as a rose’s thorn and poised to pierce my heart. Little Lo is as dangerous as sin and twice as forbidden. She hates me, but she loves her Black Fox. Her savior. Her devil in black.

  How he loves to hear her call him daddy.

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  The Black Fox is a novella of 25,000 words. All characters are over 18. Zacarias is married.

  Prologue

  Zacarias

  I dig a knee into my prisoner’s throat as the clock in the church tower starts to chime midnight. Beneath me, he growls and thrashes about, but his efforts are futile. I tighten the ropes binding his chest and arms, and then hold up a finger.

  “You hear that?”

  The man stops struggling. Each of the deep chimes sound through the still night air. I wait for them to end, and then say, “It’s my birthday. Today I’m forty years old.”

  “Happy fucking birthday,” chokes my prisoner, and goes back to thrashing about.

  “That is kind of you.” I leap to my feet and haul the man’s dead weight over my shoulder. As if out on nothing more than a midnight stroll, I whistle under my breath. The steep streets of the village of Atienza are deserted at this hour. Up ahead, a skinny cat slinks along the laneway, its tail caressing the ancient stone wall.

  “I find I’m in a very good mood tonight,” I tell my prisoner, giving him a friendly pat on the rump. “Not only is it my birthday, but I’m going to be married. Fifteen whole years as the Black Fox, but it’s time to hang up my cape.”

  “Felicidades,” my prisoner spits. “You couldn’t have retired last night?”

  I ignore that. “I never thought I’d be married, because of the…” I swallow and swerve the conversation in a different direction. “I never thought I’d be married, but I saw her, and I knew.”

  People say this often, that they fell in love at first sight. For me, it wasn’t quite like that. I met Valeria Hernandez, and I was overwhelmed by a sense of confidence. I was thirty-nine. Falling victim to a curse was a young man’s folly. I would marry Valeria and simply outsmart it.

  “Valeria is my destiny. I feel that in my soul.”

  “Good for you,” snarls my prisoner.

  “But do I love her?” I muse aloud, as if my prisoner has asked me. “Oh, not exactly. What is love, when you respect each other? She likes me as I am, and she doesn’t need to change anything for me. I will find a new hobby. Golf, perhaps.”

  I grimace. All right, not golf. But it’s time for me to step out of the shadows and my life as Zacarias to begin.

  “As you’re hanging up your cape, Señor, maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement?”

  The man’s wheedling tone makes me slow to a stop, and I cock my ear. “An arrangement?”

  He tenses on my shoulder, and I sense his excitement. “Think of it as a birthday present. No, a wedding present, for you and your good lady. Something for you to retire on and live out your days in comfort.”

  I study the church across the square, black and faceless against the night sky. “What did you have in mind?” He names an obscene amount of money, and I shift on my feet. “That is…very generous of you.”

  “No more than the Black Fox deserves,” simpers my prisoner. “For keeping Spain safe all these years. Your exploits have been fine, and many.”

  That sort of money could buy a yacht for my wife and me to sail around the Mediterranean in, before returning to her hilltop castillo. I jostle my prisoner on my shoulder. “And you? What will you do if I let you go?”

  The man’s voice is syrupy with contrition. “Señor, I have learned the error of my ways. I will live a life beyond reproach from now on.”

  I rub my free hand over my jaw. “I was going to hand you into the chief of police. He lives at this address, I believe?” I indicate the nearby white stucco house, all its lights extinguished and shutters drawn.

  “You can put me down here,” the man says in an eager whisper. “I’ll make my own way home. Tomorrow, a messenger will come to your house with a suitcase full of money. Used notes. The least I can do for you on your birthday and for your impending nuptials.”

  “The very least,” I agree. I drop the man on the cobbles at my feet, and then hoist him up and slam him against a post. “But still not good enough.”

  “Wha—what are you doing?” he wheezes, the breath knocked out of him.

  Instead of answering, I tie him to the post, and then yank down his pants and underwear. His privates shrink up in the cool air. From behind my mask, I grin at him, my hand drifting to the hilt of my sword.

  The man’s eyes widen in horror. “You wouldn’t!”

  I draw my sword, and he all but sobs with fear. With the tip of my blade, I tickle the end of his floppy privates. How pathetic they look in this state, like the wattles of an old chicken.

  He gasps and twists, trying to escape. “No, please!”

  I sheath my sword with a theatrical sigh. “Well, all right then. But I was just starting to have a little fun.” I dig something out of my pocket. A small cardboard sign, which I tie around his dick and balls, yanking the string tight. Maybe they’ll drop off by morning.

  I draw my sword once more and hold the tip against his throat, not a trace of humor in my expression now. The man’s Adam’s apple bobs against the blade.

  “Bastardo. Fucking asshole. I’ll kill you for this.”

  His threats might have more impact if he wasn’t whispering. He still thinks he’s going to get out of this without any consequences. “Why are you not screaming for help? Afraid to shout and wake the chief of police?”

  The man just glares at me, the white
s of his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

  “Or are you worried about drawing the neighbors to their windows?” I press the blade against his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. “Because they’ll recognize you, won’t they, Police Chief Martínez?”

  Martínez’s face goes slack with shock.

  “Photographs. Stained clothing. Ropes. They’re all on their way to police headquarters in Madrid,” I tell him. “To an officer who can’t be bribed.” I lean close and whisper, “Like I can’t be bribed.”

  Above his head, I carve a mark into the post, as fast as lightning. Then I salute him ironically and saunter away. Come morning, the townspeople will find their chief of police tied to a post outside his own home, a sign dangling from his cold, pathetic genitals that reads VIOLADOR. RAPIST. Above his head will be three slashes. The letter Z.

  I melt into the shadows for the very last time, and the Black Fox, as Spain has known him these past fifteen years, is no more.

  GRAB IT ON AMAZON

  About the Author

  About me? Right… I’m a writer, I should be able to do that, right?

  I’m happily married, and I like tater tots, small fuzzy animals, naming my plants, hiking, reading, writing, sexy time, naked time, shirtless o’clock, anything sparkly or shiny, and weirding people out with my OCD food habits.

  I believe in Happy Endings. And fairies. And Santa Claus. Because without a little magic, what’s the point of living?

  I write because I must. I live in several different worlds at any given moment. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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