by Tawny Taylor
He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her head back. “If you ever bring a camera into one of my parties again, I’ll make you regret it for a long, long time.”
“Is that a threat?” she snapped.
Damn, she had balls.
“No, it’s a promise.” Not allowing himself to smile, he stepped back, motioning toward the door. “My security team will escort you off my property. Good-bye, Amanda Thompson.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, hitting the button to call Phillips, the man in charge of his security team.
She had the nerve to glare at him. “I don’t need an escort. I can see myself out.”
“Oh, no, you can’t,” he said through gritted teeth.
If only she knew how close he was to dragging her back to his bedroom and giving her what she wanted. The guard was for her sake, not his.
The beast inside had wakened.
2
Five minutes later, Mandy slumped into Sarah’s car and fished her cell phone out of the glove compartment. Because phones were not permitted at the party, Sarah’s phone was in there, too.
There was no way for her to get in touch with her.
And, of course, as luck would have it, Sarah had the car keys.
As a result, Mandy was stuck waiting outside until Sarah decided she’d had enough of the Wonder Twins. That could take hours.
Luckily, it was a pleasant early summer evening. The sky was clear, the cool air scented with the sweet smell of lilacs. Mandy dug around in Sarah’s car, scoring a pen and an unused bank deposit envelope. She scrawled a note on it for Sarah, positioned it on the steering wheel so she’d see it, shoved her phone into her pocket, and headed out, walking down the long, winding driveway toward the main road. Her destination: the coffee shop she’d spied as they’d driven in. It was still relatively early, not quite ten. She hoped the shop would be open as late as the one by her house. She’d kill at least a half hour. After that, she hoped she could find a bar where she could sit and nurse a margarita or two.
Three hours later, her phone, set on vibrate, buzzed. Sitting in a pine booth at a sports bar roughly a half mile from the party, Mandy hit the button, answering the call.
“Hey, girl, where are you?” Sarah’s voice was cheerful, as always. “I’ll come pick you up.”
“I’m at Sammy’s. It’s down the street, on the right-hand side.”
“Be there in a few.” Sarah ended the call.
Mandy paid her tab and headed outside to watch for Sarah. Her friend’s car zipped up to the front of the building a couple minutes later. As Mandy slid into the passenger seat, Sarah gave her an apologetic look.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you’d been kicked out.”
“It’s okay.” Mandy gave her friend what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m capable of keeping myself out of trouble for a few hours. How were the Wonder Twins?”
“Wonder Twins?” Sarah echoed as she pulled her little Fiesta out onto the street. “Oh! I get it now. They were good. Thanks. What happened to you?”
“Zane Griffin found out about my camera. I don’t know how. It was way too small to see. Someone must’ve told him. But who?”
“Wow, that’s strange.” Sarah’s features twisted into a look of confusion. “Nobody but you and I knew about it. You got through security with no problem.”
“I know. Someone must know I’m on a case. And they must’ve assumed I was there to collect information.”
“Did Zane approach you about it, or did he send one of his goons?”
“No, it was Zane.”
Sarah visibly tensed. “What was that like? That man intimidates the hell out of me.”
“It wasn’t pleasant.” That statement was partly true.
“I bet.”
“Needless to say, I won’t be coming to another of his parties.” Mandy let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes, the stress of the night setting in. “Dammit, I was hoping tonight would go better. I’ll have to find another way to catch Clark in the act. The bastard’s careful. Careful isn’t good.”
“You’ll do it. I have faith in you.”
“Thanks. That makes one of us. Maybe I’ll get lucky and another case’ll land on my desk while I’m working this one. I need something easy so I can get paid. Like a married man who likes to meet his girlfriend up at the Red Roof Inn.”
Sarah patted Mandy’s knee. “You know I’ll help you any way I can.”
“Yeah, I know.” Mandy gave Sarah what she knew had to be a wilted smile. “Thanks.”
“Find out who Amanda Thompson is,” Zane said to Phillips. “I want to know everything about her—where she lives, what she does to pay her bills, what she does in her free time. She’s up to something. Has to be an undercover cop or private detective. Maybe a journalist. Somehow she made it through the agency’s background check.”
“Got it.” Phillips pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and scratched her name in it. “Do you have more than a name?”
“We have the plate of the car she came in, though I’m guessing it isn’t her vehicle. She didn’t carry the keys, right? You said your team saw her walking up to the coffee shop?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Her friend picked her up at Sammy’s.”
“Okay. That’s it. Thanks.” Ready to work off the tension coiled through his body, Zane excused Phillips. No sooner was Phillips gone than Zane’s mind flashed back to that moment when he’d had Amanda Thompson caged between his arms. It had taken everything in him not to crush her mouth under his and drink in her flavor. How he’d wanted to strip off her clothes, tie her to his bed, and torment her until she begged for his cock.
That was what she’d wanted. It was what he’d wanted, too.
It was what he wanted now.
He closed his eyes and unzipped his pants, wrapping his fingers around his cock and giving it a few slow pumps. Damn that felt good, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted a tight, wet cunt. Her tight, wet cunt. Or maybe her ass.
His teeth sank into his lower lip as he pictured her on his bed, bent over, her round ass pink and warm from a spanking. Her pussy would be dripping with her juices, the air heavy with her perfume.
He stroked himself faster, imagining it was her hands closed around his rod, stroking him to completion. He could imagine her full lips pursed, her tongue moistening them, preparing them to slide around his cock.
His balls tightened. His muscles pulled into painful knots.
He stopped stroking and opened his eyes.
He needed to fuck. Now. He needed a partner who would be willing and able to take it hard and fast. He knew exactly who that partner would be.
His blood simmering, he went out to the orgy. His gaze found his first choice right away. Bruce Reeves was currently on his knees, driving his cock into some woman’s hungry mouth. Her saliva coated his condom-wrapped rod, easing its way into her throat. Bruce’s unclothed body was hard and tight, his suntanned skin glimmering with a light coat of sweat. But on his face was an expression of pure boredom.
Zane had the perfect cure.
He walked around the back of his chosen partner and hooked his fingers, dragging his fingernails down Bruce’s back. Instantly, the muscles under Bruce’s skin tensed, pulling into defined bulges. Goose bumps coated Bruce’s back and shoulders. His thrusts shortened, becoming faster, more jerky. Finding some lube next to Bruce’s knees, Zane coated his fingers, parted Bruce’s ass cheeks, and tested his anus. The ring of muscles relaxed, and Zane’s fingers slid deep inside.
Bruce groaned.
Zane bent over at the waist, whispering into Bruce’s ear, “I’ll make you feel better than you’ve ever felt. But only if you do as I ask.”
“Yes, please,” was Bruce’s response.
“Your cock is mine.”
Bruce yanked it out of the woman’s mouth. Hard and thick, the sheath coated with a glistening blend of the woman’s saliva and some flavored oil, his cock twitched.
“Yes, master.” Bruce disposed of the condom in a trash can positioned next to the door and followed Zane upstairs, to his suite.
Zane closed them inside, then turned his attention to his partner. The taut skin stretched over Bruce’s well-muscled body glittered in the flickering candlelight, the tiny droplets of sweat sparkling, making him look almost otherworldly. But the thick hardness of his shaft and the hunger in his eyes made him look 100 percent human. Zane slid his hand behind Bruce’s head, gathering a fistful of Bruce’s hair and pulling, extending Bruce’s neck. The pulse beating at his throat was a temptation Zane found nearly impossible to resist.
Growing warm as his hunger for the blood pulsing through Bruce’s body spiked, Zane dragged his tongue down the column of Bruce’s neck, relishing the taste of salt and man and need. His nostrils filled with the scent of sex, of cum, the smell heightening his hunger. Zane reached around Bruce’s body with his other hand, grabbing a handful of hard ass, and pulled Bruce flush against him. Their erect cocks, his covered by his clothes, Bruce’s not, ground against each other. His fangs lengthened, the pain only adding to his building arousal.
The pulse under that thin layer of skin pounded in his ears. His mouth flooded with saliva, and his mind and body focused on his one need. To feed.
Not yet.
Zane released Bruce’s hair, cupping his cheek instead, and plunged his tongue into Bruce’s mouth. He drank in Bruce’s flavor, savored the hint of pussy he caught on Bruce’s lips, the slight tang of cum on his tongue. The fingertips of his other hand slipped into the crevice between Bruce’s ass cheeks, their progression aided by a slick combination of perspiration and lube.
Zane’s tongue stabbed into Bruce’s mouth, and his fingertips glided down, working their way to Bruce’s anus. Bruce’s skin warmed under his touch, his breath escaping his nose and mouth in short bursts. He trembled, and a groan of hard male need filled their joined mouths. Zane drank it in, pulled it deep inside, letting it stir his own need.
Zane broke the kiss and shoved Bruce back. “On your knees. There.” He pointed at a spot on the floor, at the center of the room where the bearskin rug lay in front of the empty fireplace.
Bruce moved like a panther, his movements sure, graceful. He lowered himself to the floor at the precise spot Zane had pointed to. A slight tremble worked through his body as he waited.
Zane went to the cupboard. Inside, he found some lube and a handful of condoms. He carried them to his waiting submissive. The lube was all he needed. His body did not sustain disease of any kind, neither viral nor bacterial, and thus there was no concern about STDs. But to protect his identity, he kept up appearances, using condoms during most of his sexual encounters. But not with Bruce. Bruce knew what he was.
Standing before Bruce, Zane made an adjustment. His balls were snug and high, his cock straining against his pants. Thanks to that little exchange with Amanda Thompson, he had no patience. He didn’t want to play. He wanted to fuck. Fuck hard and fast and come. And then he needed to feed. But he was determined not to take any shortcuts, cheating his partner out of the pleasure he deserved.
Setting aside his own needs, Zane walked around to his submissive’s back. He dragged his fingernails down Bruce’s back, creating a series of red welts that traveled the length of his torso, ending just above his ass cheeks. He repeated the motion again and again, until there were only narrow patches of tanned skin between the deep burgundy stripes. With each set added, Bruce’s cock jumped. His balls tightened. Precum dripped from the ruddy head.
“Stand,” Zane commanded. “Now turn to me.” Zane took the submissive’s cock in his fist. With his other hand, Zane fondled his balls. “I’m going to suck you until you’re begging to come.” He gave Bruce’s cock a hard squeeze and licked his lips as a droplet of precum seeped from the slitted opening. “I’m going to lick away every drop of cream you give me. And then I’m going to fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.”
The submissive’s eyes rolled in his head. “Yes, please,” he whispered.
Zane pulled on his submissive’s cock, using it like a lead as he walked to a chair and settled into it. Then he put his hands on either side of his partner’s hips and pulled them toward him, taking his cock into his mouth, relaxing his throat so it could slide deep. He set the speed and depth of his submissive’s thrusts, forcing him to fuck his mouth hard, deep, fast. And when he trusted Bruce to keep that pace, he let one of his hands slide around to his ass to find his anus.
When Zane’s lubed finger slid inside the tight hole, Bruce’s cock jerked inside his mouth. Zane added a second finger, stretching Bruce’s anus, preparing it for him. Bruce’s breathing grew shallow and quick, his movements jerky. Zane added a third finger, and Bruce let his upper body fall forward, catching himself on outstretched arms, his hands braced on the back of the chair.
“More,” Bruce whispered breathlessly. “Oh, damn. More.”
Zane crammed his fingers inside Bruce’s hungry hole and swallowed Bruce’s ample precum, his every sense alert to his partner’s body. He could feel the heat radiating off Bruce’s skin. The scent of pleasure-pain filled his nostrils, so sweet, so intoxicating. His ears filled with the music of his partner’s gasps and groans and the slurping smack of his lips and tongue. Just as Bruce was about to come, Zane shoved at his chest, forcing him back.
“No. On your knees.”
Bruce trembled as he dropped to his knees. Zane handed him some pillows, positioning him so his ass was up high, at just the right angle to take him to the hilt. He spread some more lube around the ring of muscle, added a little inside, and entered him in one long, slow thrust. They both shuddered at the pleasure, and their voices carried around the room as they sighed with relief.
“Yes, more, please,” Bruce murmured, angling his body into a better position.
Zane passed him the lube as he slammed in and out of his ass. “Take your cock in your hand. Stroke it.” He was close. Damn close. So close, he didn’t give a damn about anything else.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Come for me. Come, dammit.” Zane’s body was on fire. His blood was burning. His cock was so hard, he gritted his teeth against the pleasure and the pain. His balls were about to explode. And a searing hunger tore through his whole being. “Come now!”
Beneath him, Bruce shook. He shuddered and quaked and moaned. Then there was a fraction of a second of silence and a long exhalation. “Yessssss.”
A picture of Amanda Thompson flashed through Zane’s mind, and his balls contracted. His cum blazed up his shaft, exploding from his body in white-hot bursts. Dizzy from the intensity, he drove into Bruce’s ass, filling it with his seed. He lowered his body, until his chest was resting against Bruce’s back. He licked a path around the side of Bruce’s neck, opened his mouth, and bit.
Bruce’s scream pierced his ears as the first mouthful of blood flowed over his tongue.
3
This was getting old.
Mandy had spent the last few weeks pretending to be a new submissive at a local bondage club, while watching mostly naked men and women of all ages, shapes, and sizes be chained up, tied down, spanked, paddled, flogged, and caned. At first, it was pretty damn sexy to watch. But gradually it lost its appeal. She just could not understand why they did it. What purpose did it serve? How could they mistake pain for pleasure?
She needed to wrap up this case and move on. She’d put in hours upon hours and had nothing to show for it. She was beginning to think her client was never going to get the proof she needed to win her case. And she was going to lose her reputation as the bulldog of Detroit.
Mandy yanked at the creeping hem of her miniskirt and shimmied through the thick crowd gathered at the far end of the public dungeon. This place wasn’t the best for her purposes. There was a no-penetration rule in place, and that rule was strictly enforced. There were security guards ensuring that nobody step
ped out of line and that all play was safe and consensual. Her hope was that she’d score an invitation to a private party somewhere else, a gathering like Zane’s.
Zane.
She’d thought about him a time or two since that night. He’d popped up in a dream every so often. In those dreams, he did things to her that she never would have guessed she’d like. She’d wakened in the middle of an orgasm more than once.
No man had ever done that to her before.
But, and this was a big but, he was more than she could handle—outside of a fantasy. She reminded herself of that fact every time one of those dreams had her second-guessing herself.
If only he wasn’t so ... darkly dominant. Intimidating. Fiercely gorgeous.
A pleasant buzz of energy zapped through her body as she pictured his face in her mind. What a face. What a body.
No, she wouldn’t wish him to change, not at all. It was that dark dominance, that sense of danger, that made him so damn sexy. He was the ultimate bad boy.
Someone tapped her shoulder.
Thinking it was Sarah, who’d scampered off to talk to a fellow dom, she spun around.
It wasn’t Sarah.
“Hello,” Zane said.
“Hi.” Mandy’s mouth went instantly dry. He was here. Zane. God, it was him. And he was looking just as good, if not better, than he had in her dreams.
He leaned over and murmured in her ear, “I’ve been watching you.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “And I know what you’re doing,” he added.
“Do you?” She wanted to get away from this man. No, she didn’t. She wanted to lean in closer, draw in his scent, and feel his heat burn over her body.
He slid an arm around her waist. “Come with me.” Not waiting for her to decide whether or not she wanted to, he started weaving through the crowd, pulling her along. She followed. Her mind screamed silent warnings. But her feet kept going. They left the dungeon, following a long, dark corridor that ran behind it. They stopped at the end.
