Hot For His Hostage

by Angel Payne

  “While I was figuring out how to solve the issue of the kink itch, my sister got officially engaged to her Dom.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “He’d proposed already, but when the rock came a few months later and they were official—that was when she told me he was her Dom, too.” Her stare, still directed at the ceiling, tightened a little more. “Seeing Ava that happy…it gave me hope.”

  “So you called Bryce again.” His tone was tight. It was difficult to watch her relive a hope that had clearly not been satisfied.

  “Fine,” she confirmed, picking at the pillow’s edge, “I called Bryce again.”

  He resettled his head, confirming his deeper focus to her. “And?”

  His chest clenched when new tears sprouted in her eyes. “You know how disaster stories are sometimes bloodier the second time around?”

  Before he could stop it, the pain beneath his ribs was intensified by a sharp breath. Shay hitched up onto an elbow, barely refraining from shaking her shoulder with his free hand. “What happened? Did the bastard physically hurt you?”

  He wouldn’t be romping in Stock’s circles forever. Once he found Mom and rescued her, he’d practically be in Vegas, anyhow. How many Bryces could there be in the city’s police department—especially ones who could, with a little digging, be traced to dalliances in the lifestyle there?

  “No,” Zoe spurted. Her answer came almost too fast for Shay’s liking, but he detected nervousness more than deceit in her voice. “Perhaps that was the problem,” she added, looking down.

  “Huh?” Shay retorted.

  “Let’s just say…I wasn’t his flavor of naughty.”

  “Still in the dark here.” He wasn’t lying. The woman’s willingness to please a Dom was clear as the gorgeous nose on her face. How could she not be a man’s most favorite flavor of anything?

  “I was a little more vocal about things when we went back to the dungeon,” she explained. “Listening to Ava talk about what she has with her Sir…it made me bold about asking for what I wanted.”

  “Which is…?” He sensed he could pre-write her answer already but still wanted to hear it. There were few things more exhilarating than watching a submissive start to articulate her hopes, fantasies, deepest desires. And with this submissive, he wouldn’t forget the magic for a very long time. Perhaps not ever.

  “The connection,” she supplied, the ends of her lips turning up. “The exchange part of it, you know?”

  “Yeah.” He rendered his reply with soft understanding. “I do.”

  “I want that tangle of souls. That awareness of every breath my Dom makes…and knowing he’s aware of all mine.” She shook her head. “That sounds so stupid.”

  “The fuck it does,” Shay snapped.

  “Really?” When her inky lashes turned up and revealed the hope in her eyes, his chest didn’t hurt anymore. For a long moment, he wasn’t sure he felt anything anymore. His attention narrowed to nothing but her breaths.

  “Yeah,” Shay murmured. “Really.” All too fast, ire bashed at his senses again. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what is his favorite ‘naughty flavor’?”

  She exhaled hard. “Not exactly sure, but it’s definitely someone who has a better knowledge of blowjob techniques than me, as well as a deeper working knowledge of using the f word in colorful sentences.”

  Shay released a disgusted hiss through his teeth. Her talents in the verbal turn-on department had been exceptional in his book, but that wasn’t the issue here. Bryce’s asshat-in-Dom’s-clothing act was. “So he played the ‘flog her then fuck her’ card,” he muttered. “Should I even ask if he bothered with aftercare?”

  He almost regretted the outburst. Zoe squirmed a little before murmuring, “He took me out afterward. It wasn’t bad. We snuggled a little before the game started.”

  “The game?”

  “Yeah. The Angels were playing the Yankees, and Trout was on a hot streak that week. The bar had the game on, so—”

  “Whoa.” He sat all the way up. “Let me get this straight…”

  Her ‘Dom’ took her to a dungeon, stripped her and used her, then took her to a bar afterward—so they could catch the damn ball game?

  He barely bit himself back from spewing it. Clearly, the woman had no idea that a trip to “Wings ‘n’ Wins” was a shitty excuse for aftercare. “Never mind,” he said instead, before pressing himself over her again.

  Without pausing momentum, he sank all the way, taking her mouth under his once more. She tasted so perfect, like spice and cream and sex, and it occurred to him in a daunting rush that their time together was dwindling by the minute.

  He only gave her a moment to catch her breath before taking another long, deep sample of her lips. He only drew back when he’d coaxed out a moan that matched his own.

  “I take it you’re not into the Angels and the Yankees?” she murmured.

  Shay ran a thumb across her cheekbone. “I have an angel right here in my arms.”

  Her face lit up with the smile he’d hoped to inspire. “Hallelujah,” she drawled.

  Their laughs mingled before their mouths fused. Shay inhaled hard, breathed her in, reveling in her willingness to part her legs when he skimmed his hand down, blatantly seeking the heat at the center of her body.

  “Ohhhh,” she cried as he found her pouting flesh, pressing his finger to her most sensitive button. “Shane. Yes.”

  He bit her upper lip with demanding pressure. “No. Use my other name, baby girl.”

  “S-Sir.” Her compliance was immediate and raspy. “Ohhhhh…Sir…that’s—mmmm—really nice.”

  “Yes.” He ran the edges of his teeth over her bottom lip, too. “Very nice.”

  After a few seconds of letting him kiss her like that, she whispered, “Do—do you have another condom?”

  “Not a relevant question,” he countered.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Didn’t ask you to. This moment is all about you. Your surrender. Your pleasure. Give it to me, Zoe. I want it all…one more time.”

  She pulled in breath as if preparing to protest but when Shay shifted his hand, slipping two fingers into her warm little cunt while keeping pressure on her clit with his thumb, he won her over. After a stunning moan ripped up her throat, she lifted her hips off the mattress. A wanton sigh tumbled off her lips. “Sí…sí…”

  “Good girl,” he encouraged. “Arch up for me, beautiful. That’s it, Zoe. You’re so perfect. So goddamn sexy.”

  “Ay Dios mio! It’s so good…”

  “Yeah,” he growled. “You’re right. Your cunt feels so good around my fingers. So sweet for me. So ready to come for me. And that’s what you’re going to do, Zoe. You’re going to let me fuck you with my fingers until you come for me again.”

  Just a few minutes later, she climaxed with breathtaking passion, rocking her mound against his touch in a shuddering mix of laughter and tears. Shay closed his eyes for a long moment as her body constricted around his fingers, reliving how good it felt when his dick was in the same position.

  After her body went limp and she melted back to the mattress, she gazed up at him with bottomless lagoon eyes. “That was…amazing.”

  Shay kissed her forehead. “That, sweet lady, was proper aftercare.”

  He began a sarcastic laugh, expecting hers to ensue, but should’ve known the woman would take him by surprise without even trying. The press of her fingers on his jaw tugged his stare down to her face, cast in angles of solemn softness. “I think I’ve become a new fan of aftercare.”

  “It’s not one of my favorite parts for nothing.”

  That did inspire a giggle in her, filling the time it took Shay to pull the blankets over both of them. He pulled her close, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder and draping her arm over his chest.

  “I do have one objection,” she murmured into their comfortable silence.

  “Oh?”

  “I think you’ve ruined me for sleep.”r />
  “Sorry.” He brushed her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “But not really.”

  She batted his chest. “Evil.” After a glance at the clock, she moaned. “Mierda. Five-thirty is going to hit like a hammer. But we all have to be on that flight. The mayor is bringing a group of big-wigs to the show tomorrow night. If we’re not on Sunset flight number four-oh-three, there will be hell to pay.”

  Shay barely refrained from freezing his fingers on her skin. They sure as hell felt like ice now—a horrific contrast with the fire clawing through his gut—and the words of Wyst’s text, scorching back into his mind’s eye. The messages were still saved on his phone, in his jacket, not more than a dozen feet away.

  New hatch time. 8 AM tomorrow. Sunset Airlines #403 to Sin City. Papa Fox wants hens as insurance now.

  Fuck.

  Zoe and her friends were going to end up being the “insurance” of Cameron’s new plan.

  Unless Cameron could be stopped.

  But if Shay did that, his cover would be severely compromised. He’d blow the sole chance he had to rescue Mom. If Cameron didn’t kill him first, he’d be standing with Dan Colton in an office somewhere, staring at files representing years’ worth of investigative work by a dozen different agencies in twice as many countries—all blown to hell. And Stock would likely be a ghost once more, disappeared to God knew where, as invisible as a terrorist general in the caves of Afghanistan. And once again, just as dangerous.

  Fuck.

  His rule about life was getting a giant shot of justification—fueled by the fact that he’d just violated it in shit-righteous glory.

  Caring was a luxury for those who wouldn’t jeopardize lives when they indulged it.

  That included every speck of feeling he’d basked in for Zoe Margarita Madonna Chestain.

  Which meant he had to get out of here. Now.

  Chapter Six

  Zoe sat up, pulled the sheet against her chest, and peered at Shane. Make that gawked.

  What the hell had just happened?

  She rewound her brain, trying to click on the thing she’d said or done to flip the man’s spigot from hot to cold in seconds.

  “Shane?” She hastened to correct herself. “Uhhh, Sir?” Was she even supposed to call him that anymore? He’d changed so fast, and now bolted from the bed so urgently, she was seriously lost about decorum. “What’s wrong? What did I—”

  “Everything’s fine.” But his tone, now forcing the cordiality, blared otherwise. “Everything’s just fine.”

  He tossed an equally feigned smile while yanking on his pants. His hair tumbled into his eyes. He scraped it back with one hand, unwittingly taunting her with the perfect flex of his bicep. Less than an hour ago, he’d been braced on those arms while meshing his body with hers, gazing at her like he never wanted to leave. Now he couldn’t get dressed fast enough.

  She tucked the sheet closer while battling an idiotic wave of ire. He doesn’t owe you anything. If anything, he gave you something. Two brain-bashing orgasms and one renewed hope of finding your submissive side.

  Either conclusion should’ve silenced her terse mutter, but didn’t. “I guess your idea of ‘fine’ is much different than mine.”

  The man had the grace to grimace. He paused with an arm jabbed in his shirt, leaning down to kiss her on the mouth. “It’s late, baby girl. You said that yourself. You’re dancing for the mayor tomorrow night. You need your sleep.”

  At the risk of looking pathetic, she grabbed his collar and tugged. “And you’re the Energizer Bunny, so you don’t?”

  His eyes darkened in a mock glare. “Did you really just compare me to a rabbit?”

  “Hmmm. A bunny, actually. A pink one that likes to beat on a big drum.”

  “Well, I’m tempted to beat something.” He slipped a hand down to tug on one of her nipples. “Or someone.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Despite the seductive sigh she gave it, Shane slipped out of her reach. His posture retightened as he turned and fastened his shirt. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  She had a feeling he didn’t say those words often. They ground out of him like his last statement before heading to the gas chamber. Zoe leaned against the headboard and studied him carefully. The man moved with such athletic grace, every action fluid but practical. She’d bet the breast he just tweaked that he was a gifted dancer, too.

  They weren’t the moves of a man who sat at a desk all day. Or even traveled the country with his ass on planes, sipping martinis and making “business deals.”

  What the hell was he really all about?

  Nothing about his posture or his face, both newly stiff, gave her a clue. And Zoe was watching. More intently than she should. Watching Shay put his clothes back on had turned her stomach back into quicksand. He was like some CG creature from a fantasy film, a half-god dipped in bronze then sent to Earth for the sole purpose of seducing mortal women into his lair of sin…

  Single ticket to the lair of sin, please. One-way? Perfect.

  She yanked the sheet tighter around herself. No. Craving him again would only postpone the inevitable. She had to accept that the dream-come-true of this night had come to an end.

  “Sí,” she finally answered him, forcing strength to the tone and a matching tilt to her jaw. “Perhaps it is best that you go.”

  There. Done. That had to make it easier for him to shove out of here and get to the fire he clearly had to put out.

  So why the hell did his face contort as if she’d just jabbed his side with a lighted torch?

  “Zoe—”

  “Shane.” She sliced her gaze up at him with as much severity as her tone. Like that did her composure any good. The second her gaze hit his again, her lungs constricted all over again from the torment in his eyes.

  Torment? Seriously, chica?

  She stood by the description. Either he really was leaving here to walk into a fire, or the demons in his soul were nastier cabróns than she assumed. Since the latter was more likely, she reached for his hand again.

  “It was wonderful, okay?” She curled the tips of their fingers together. “Every minute. I mean it.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “It was. Thank you.”

  She slipped her hand free. “I really am tired.”

  “Yeah,” he repeated, lowering next to her again. He plumped the pillows and arranged the blanket around her. “I understand.”

  Zoe glanced away, swallowing against another influx of tears. When was the last time someone had tucked her in? “Gracias,” she managed, forcing herself not to focus on his hands, so big and assured and comforting.

  And gone. Soon.

  He continued for a few more seconds before raising a hand to her face, tracing the arches of both her eyebrows. His own pushed into a tight V. “Why don’t you sleep in and just take a later flight? Planes leave for Vegas every five minutes out of LAX.”

  He was right about that. And there was genuine concern beneath his murmur, but she heard something else, too. The verbal version of that damn agony from his eyes. It made her long to yank him back down before somehow turning time back by an hour. It was also why she had to squeeze her eyes shut and roll free from his tingle-inducing fingers. “I’ll—I’ll be fine. I need to call Ry back, and he’ll likely keep me up the rest of the night wanting a report card on you, anyway.”

  That should’ve stressed him out enough to finally leave. If he insisted on getting out of here—and for his own strange, haunted reasons, he did—then dragging this out any longer wasn’t benefitting either of them.

  There weren’t any ropes here—of any kind.

  It was best to keep it that way.

  But dammit, the man once more shocked the hell out of her. Instead of the tension she anticipated from him, Burnett presented a picture of gorgeous confidence, beaming a subtle smirk while leaning back and crossed his arms. “Report card? Is that so? Well, then…where do I hit on the bell curve, Miss Chestain?” His tongue swept his lo
wer lip, slow and alluring. “I hope I brought enough apples for extra credit.”

  Despite everything that screamed uncomfortable about this moment, Zoe giggled. “You blew the curve up before the apples made it to the desk, Burnett, and you know it. Now kiss me and go to—wherever you need to be going.” She pretended preoccupation with her cell as she finished that, but gasped as he pulled the device from her hold. “What the hell? Shane? What’re you—”

  She froze when she heard her name being yelled from the device—by Ryder.

  “You did not,” she gasped. “Shane! Give me the—”

  He easily held her back with one arm. “Good evening. Is this Ryder? Excellent. Name’s Shane Burnett. How are you, man?” He glanced to her, sliding half a smile that threatened to melt her so totally, his physical blockade wouldn’t be necessary. “No, no. She’s fine. She’s right here. I’ll hand you over in a second. But she’s mentioned you two having a little chit-chat, and that doing so might keep her up until dawn. As you know, the woman has a high-profile performance tomorrow, and my concern is for her health.” He paused, listened then nodded. “Glad you agree. I know you’ll do the right thing and let her get some rest, so I don’t have to do anything like use the number I’ve stored for her in my phone for a three a.m. emergency break-in on the call…or even track down your number or anything. Thanks. Know I can count on you, man.”

  Zoe’s jaw dropped. She managed to close it again as he handed the phone back over, though her lips parted as he bent once more to settle a perfect, soft kiss on them. When he pulled up, she shook her head, not even trying to hide her bewilderment.

  “I don’t know whether to say thank you or fuck you.”

  Shane gave her a little frown. Didn’t seem as if he had the answer, either. He only kept his gaze on her, permeating and unwavering, fading the room—then the rest of the world—behind its golden intensity. “If you did either, I’d probably be a lost man again,” he whispered. “Or perhaps I’d be found…a scarier idea.”