Staring at the door, she ground her teeth, willing Flynn to walk through it so she could smash her fist against his face.
The doorknob didn’t move.
Neither did the cuffs hanging from them. Katrina stared at them. Her cuffs. A parting shot from Flynn Marsters, no doubt, but a cold reminder of why she was here. Turning her gaze from the door, she studied the crumpled heap of latex on the floor beside the bed. The cat costume.
Da Boss’s Masquerade Ball was tonight. The Mouse would be there, watching her from the shadows. Laughing at her. As he always did.
Steely resolve shot through Katrina’s veins, turning the numbing chill to hot determination. Tonight, the cat was going to unsheathe her claws and catch herself a mouse. Regardless of what it took. And damn Flynn Marsters to Hell.
Chapter Seven
She moved through the thrumming bodies writhing, grinding and generally dry-humping all around her. The musky scent of sex and lust hung heavy on the air-conditioned air. The low, muted lights cast the other guests -- all masked, all barely dressed -- in warm purple shadows, highlighting enhanced cleavage, bare torsos and sublime forms.
She threaded her way through the crowd, searching the shadows for a figure she knew well. Seeking the only man that mattered to her now.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she muttered under her breath, feeling strangely uninhibited. It had something to do with the mask, she was sure. The moment she’d clasped the final hook on the corset of the costume, she’d felt like sin, but the second, the second, she’d placed the mask on her face she’d wanted to live sin. As though the tiny sculpted item tapped into the dark side of her she wanted to forever forget. Remembered, oh so briefly, in Flynn’s treacherous arms.
Focus, O’Brien. Think of The Mouse. Not the yellow-bellied snake.
She continued to move deeper into Da Boss’s ball, too aware of her body. The boots, long and snug with just a tiny flare at the top, brushed against her inner thigh with each step she took, feeding the warm pulse in her core. Even the thick but subtle length of suede representing a tail made her want to squirm and purr with pleasure. It brushed her thighs and calves in a delicate swish-swish motion, like soft fingertips feathering her flesh.
Whose fingertips? Surely not Flynn’s? A heat stole over her, through her body, like an erotic ebb and flow. The mask felt warm and in turn, she felt warm. No, not just warm. Horny.
She cast her gaze around the room. She had to remember why she was there. Why she’d come to Los Regalos in the first place. The Mouse. The Mouse was there somewhere. Goading her from the shadows. Watching her. The thought sent another warm tingle through her body and her head swam. She felt intoxicated. But on what?
Lust?
A loud cheer rang through the room, making Katrina jump. Suddenly every head turned to the center dais on which stepped a man dressed in an immaculate white suit and what looked like blue cowboy boots. The thick, black hair and pitch-black aviator shades were undeniable, as was the diamond studded belt buckle in the shape of a set of elaborately curved gates complete with music notes sitting low on his abdomen. He held up his hands, the diamond rings adorning each pinkie glinting in the light, and another cheer rippled through the audience, glasses of champagne raised to meet his acknowledgement.
Katrina cocked an eyebrow. “So much for him having left the building,” she mumbled, stepping backward and running her hands down her rib cage. Da Boss’s arrival seemed to shatter the heady lust threatening to overwhelm her and she pulled a deep, steadying breath, casting a look up at the man -- the bloody impressive impersonator -- on the dais. Thank you. Thank you very much.
Turning, she began weaving her way through the crowd. She needed to take the mask off. She might be just imagining it, but she didn’t like what it was doing --
She froze as a man dressed entirely in black threaded through the shadows before her. A man whose frame she recognized.
Flynn? Or The Mouse?
Her mouth went dry. Really dry -- just as her pussy fluttered with a damp excitement too ominously ambiguous. She took a step, pushing her way through the masked guests around her.
Quickening her pace, a distant part of her mind aware the people around her had returned to their… activities… she followed him deeper into the Dominate Play Room, her heart thumping hard in her chest. This could be it. This could be --
A man stepped directly in her path, blocking her line of sight. Eyes the color of a brilliant summer sky devoured her from behind a blood-red devil’s mask. “You make a very delightful cat, Ms. O’Brien.”
Katrina stared up at the devil, her pussy suddenly wet with cream. “Mr. Abaddon.”
The sensuous lips under the devil’s mask curled. “Going somewhere?”
Surreal rapacious hunger swept over her. Followed by irritated impatience. “Yes, actually. If you’ll excuse --”
He destroyed the small distance between them, his eyes flaring with blue fire. “No.” His arms snaked around her waist, his hands grabbed her ass and, before she could stop him, his mouth slanted over hers.
The mask erupted in scalding, exquisite heat, a wild, wet, surging heat. Consuming her. Taking possession of her completely.
His tongue plunged past her lips, taking and demanding more. He yanked her harder to his body, his cock grinding against her belly, his fingers digging into her ass. Ribbons of dark pleasure unfurled in the pit of Katrina’s stomach. She squirmed in his punishing embrace, a prickling moisture between her thighs. God, she felt out of control. Like her body and its responses were no longer hers to govern.
Abaddon’s tongue flicked at her teeth before his mouth dragged a hot line up to her ear. “Yessssss. You are soooooo right.”
The low hiss made Katrina’s blood chill. And her cunt pulse. She closed her fingers around the steely broadness of his shoulder and shoved.
Nothing -- except a low chuckle in her ear and another pulsing wave of wet hunger in her sex.
Abaddon’s lush lips pressed to her ear. “Now I know you don’t want me to let you go.”
He squeezed her ass harder, yanking her hips firmer to his, his cock grinding to her belly with such arrogance her knees shook. Abaddon’s right hand left her ass and closed completely over her left breast, fingers mauling the uplifted swell of flesh almost spilling from the corset. Katrina gasped. She tried to pull back, her cunt pooling with cream at the illicit desire her struggles evoked in her own being. Abaddon laughed, his fingers tugging at the corset’s bra until they exposed her nipple to the air.
Her eyes flung open and she stared up at him, hating what she was letting him do, wanting to stop him, stop him for God’s sake, O’Brien, stop him, but drowning in the dark passion rolling over her at the same time.
He stared down at her, blood-red mask somehow melding to his perfectly handsome face. “Fighting me is half the pleasure, is it not, Ms. O’Brien?” He smiled, the action both cruel and seductive. “Being subdued and owned, the other half.”
His fingers pinched down on her nipple and rampant, erotic lust devoured her. Over-powering. Compelling. She cried out, arching into his towering frame, ramming her sodden cunt to the rigid length of his cock.
No! No! Not him! This is not right!
Abaddon smiled again. “Says who?”
He sank his fingers into her ass cheeks and twisted her nipple at the same time. Twin jolts of exquisite pain lanced through her and she cried out again. He latched on to her bowed neck with his mouth, sucking on her flesh with painful greed. She writhed in his hold, pushing at him even as she rolled her mons up and down the length of his cock.
Around them, the ball continued. The cop part of her mind, the part that never switched off, heard other people laughing, dancing, fucking. Hands slid up her thighs, joined Abaddon’s on her ass. Tongues dipped into her ear, delved past her parted lips. God, she was being mauled by who knew how many people and she didn’t care…
Yes, you do!
“No, you don’t,” Aba
ddon whispered, before, with brutal savagery, he pulled her left breast entirely free of her corset and closed his lips around her bruised and tortured nipple.
“Fuck!”
A loud cheer followed Katrina’s raw cry. Abaddon chuckled against the captured nub of flesh between his teeth, and then proceeded to suck and gnaw on its rock-hard form. She bucked in his grip, fingers clawing at his shoulders, breath coming from her in shallow gasps. Suddenly her right breast was free of the corset, and new lips closed over its nipple, suckling just as hard, just as greedily as Abaddon’s. She moaned, writhing and arching her back more, pushing her breasts harder into those two ravenous mouths.
Wet heat built like a wall of molten lust between her thighs. Thighs spread to align her cunt closer to Abaddon’s cock. Oh, God, what was she doing? What was she doing?
She pushed at his shoulders, ineffectual and angry at once. The show of resistance made Abaddon ram his cock to her latex-covered sex, made him close his teeth down on her nipple in a bite both terrible and wonderful.
Katrina whimpered, the sound lost as a mouth crushed hers in a demanding, taking kiss. Three! There are three of them… The thought wafted through her mind. Made her cunt gush with delight and her heart hammer with shame. She was here to find a jewel thief. Not partake in an --
The unknown mouth on her right breast drew her nipple deeper, tonguing it with ferocious frenzy. The unknown tongue mating with hers grew wild.
Three!
Her pussy constricted, the nub of her clit a swollen button of sensitive want. God, she hadn’t felt this turned on since…
Flynn… Ravenous want pooled in Katrina’s cunt. The only man to give her what she truly hungered for. The only man to break her heart. Twice.
“Forget him.” Abaddon’s whisper tickled her ear. Katrina didn’t know how the man knew what -- who -- was in her head. The surreal sensations of three pairs of hands on her body, of hot, wet lips worshipping her even as they took from her the will to force them off, denied her the ability to form coherent thought.
She felt like she was drowning in lust.
“Then drown.”
The murmured command from Abaddon sent a wave of salacious heat through her body and her knees gave way. She slumped and Abaddon caught her, lifting her feet from the floor, one arm under her knees, the other her back.
The unseen hands and mouths ravishing her body disappeared. All that existed was the mysterious man from The Wicked Lynx. “Capitulation. Such a delicious thing to discover in a police officer.”
Abaddon’s whispered statement should have made Katrina hiss with fury. Should have made her smash her fist to his chiseled jaw. Should have made her want her gun. But instead, it made her pussy flutter and her eyes close. Languid fingers of warmth spread out from the mask, down her body, pinching her nipples in eager want. Her pussy fluttered again, more demanding, and she pressed her thighs together. Oh, where are you, O’Brien? What is going on?
“Let me show you…”
She felt Abaddon move through the crowd, felt new hands caress her limbs and torso as he went.
Stop him! Stop him! The cried order flooded her mind -- just as Abaddon’s lips found her neck. He drew her flesh into his mouth, nipping it with sharp teeth, and Katrina moaned, letting her head fall farther back, granting the man greater access. Why should she stop him? When he made her feel…
The sounds of the ball, the sounds of partying guests and the familiar rhythm of a song about blue shoes made of suede faded, becoming a faint ghost in her head. She opened her eyes and found herself in a secluded alcove, the muted lights casting the room in deep shadows.
With fluid grace, Abaddon lowered her to her feet, holding her with his blazing blue stare. “I know what you want, Ms. O’Brien.”
Katrina stared at him, a twist of anger tightening in her chest. “How?”
His cerulean stare burned brighter from behind the devil’s mask. “I’ve told you already. Because I know everything about you.” His arms slid around her torso, his hands finding her arms and lifting them slowly above her head. His cock a long, thick rod against her belly, his hips pushed into hers. She took a step back, her breath catching and her nipples pinching harder, even as her mind -- her ever so distant, rational cop’s mind she so valued -- told her to kick him in the balls and ram her knee into his chin.
Abaddon chuckled, white teeth flashing. “Why would you do that, when I’m just about to do this?”
His hips pushed her back again, his hands snaking up her forearms to press her wrists to something cool and soft yet firm as well. A dull click sounded in the room. And Katrina’s eyes snapped open.
He’d cuffed her.
Pointed white teeth flashed from behind a conceited grin, the devil’s mask appearing less artificial with each second. “Not cuffs, my delectable pussycat.” He ground his rigid cock to her belly, rubbing its length against her mons in slow, languid strokes. “Shackles.”
Cold rage and blistering, shameful excitement roared through her. She stared up at her wrists, seeing them encased in thick leather bands with shiny silver locking mechanisms attached to a thick silver chain hanging from the ceiling.
“No key is required to release you,” Abaddon went on, trailing his fingers down the extended line of her arms until they brushed the tops of her breasts. “Just a simple word from me. So it is pointless trying to tug free.”
“Let me go.”
Abaddon chuckled, sliding his hands entirely over the swell of her breasts. He kneaded them gently, capturing her nipples between his knuckles immediately. “That’s not what you want, Ms. O’Brien.” He pinched the exposed nubs and a sizzling jolt of concentrated pleasure shot into Katrina’s pussy. “Is it?”
Katrina sank her nails into her palms, doing everything in her power to fight off the waves of wanton hunger trying to consume her. She didn’t want this. Not from this man. So why did every fiber in her being quiver and ache for his touch? “What have you done to me?”
He chuckled again. “The mask releases you, Ms. O’Brien. Lets your desire run free when you would have it hobbled and imprisoned. Nothing so powerful should be contained, my little cat.” He pinched her nipples and ground his cock against her. “As you will soon see.”
Hot tension shot through her, making her gasp. She bucked, her pussy clenching along with her fists. “Take it off.”
“You do not mean that, Ms. O’Brien.”
Katrina jerked on the shackles, glaring at the masked man before her, her cunt heavy with hunger. “Take. It. Off.”
Abaddon smiled slowly, pushing his hips harder to hers. “Tell me…” His foot smacked against the inside of her right ankle with brutal force, knocking her legs wider apart with an abrupt jolt. “To suck…” He kicked at her left ankle, spreading her legs even farther. “Your…” He rammed his cock to her cunt and pinched her nipples with punishing strength. “Tits.”
Dark rapture smashed through her. Flooded her sex. She lifted her chin, fixing Abaddon with a level look. “No.”
With a low chuckle making her pulse quicken, he snaked around her body, pressing his rigid cock to her butt. “Defiant,” he whispered in her ear, his lips caressing her flesh as he scooped one breast into his hand. He smoothed his other hand down the length of her torso, over her stomach and between her spread thighs, slipping his fingers under her thong until they found the swollen lips of her pussy. “Defiant, but so very, very wet.”
“Let me go,” Katrina ground out from between gritted teeth, feeling awash in squirming heat.
Abaddon’s hand on her breast skimmed up to her chin and, fingers cruel and inescapable, he twisted her head to the side, nibbling on her ear with ungentle care. “Tell me to suck your tits,” he ordered, the words barely more than a breath.
Unable to stop herself, Katrina pushed her hips to the fingers stroking her throbbing clit. “No.”
Teeth bit at her earlobe and she gasped, the pain igniting a carnal lust both frightening and compelling. “T
ell me.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Abaddon ground his cock to her ass. “Then tell him.”
He turned her head back to facing forward and Katrina’s stare fell upon the man standing before her. Watching them. Silent. Still. The man she’d seen threading his way through the ball guests earlier. The man all in black. The man she thought was…
Flynn? The Mouse?
She gasped, a bolt of liquid electricity stabbing into her pussy. Eyes like wild moss and fresh soil stared at her from behind a silk black mask. He stood perfectly still, the only sign he had any awareness of the scene before him the slight flaring of nostrils on a nose both strong and commanding.
God, it was Flynn.
And he moved exactly like The Mouse. Exactly. As though they were one and the same. Katrina stared at him, and suddenly -- seeing him shrouded in shadows, like those found in a darkened mansion or museum or jewelry store -- it all became clear.
Abaddon rolled the pad of his finger over her clit, breath scalding the flesh of her neck as he slid his hand from her chin down to capture her left breast again. “Quite a surprise, isn’t it?” He pinched her nipple, and a shard of painful pleasure ricocheted down to her throbbing sex. “Tell him, my little captured pussycat, to suck your tits. Tell the man you’ve hunted for so many years to take one of your nipples into his deceptive, lying mouth and suck.”
Green-flecked eyes held her frozen. Eyes betraying no emotion whatsoever but speaking volumes all the same. God, she loved him. She was a bloody fool but she loved him.
Abaddon ground his finger to her clit. Squeezed her breast and twisted her nipple. “Tell him.”
Pleasure and guilt turned Katrina’s blood to a surging river of conflict. Her lips parted. To ask her old lover if he really was Australia’s most notorious jewel thief? To tell both men to fuck off? To tell them both to fuck her?
It didn’t matter. The second her lips moved, Flynn did. He closed the distance between them in a single fluid move, grabbed the front of her corset and ripped it open. Tiny metal pings filled the air like bullets as the corset’s eyehooks popped apart. Her breasts tumbled free.
Viva Los Regalos: Kat and Mouse Page 7
