by J. L. Beck
I put the wine bottle down on the table and shove open the heavy door and peer out into the alleyway behind. There’s a fence line a few feet away, and on the other end, the fence cuts over into the building, blocking the path. I can’t see the other side without walking out there. The organ in my chest squeezes tightly, and there’s an ache radiating outward with every heavy beat.
The image of his lips sliding over delicate knuckles. His lips on a woman who isn’t me. Those thoughts alone give me the strength to step out into the darkness.
Consequences be damned, I’d be stupid not to try to escape.
18
Nic
The one thing I didn’t expect from this evening was the look of jealousy on Celia’s face the second she saw our lovely dinner guest.
Honestly, Celia’s reaction is the only reason I keep touching Reya. Well, her’s and Soo’s. They were both on edge and tense, neither of them speaking, just glaring between Reya and me before I sent Celia off for wine. It makes me wonder if Reya noticed the tension as well. Most likely, but she’s not dumb enough to say anything.
From what Soo’s said about her, I suspect she has much more going on in her head than it seems from the outside. And she likes for people to see her as simply another bimbo. She doesn’t feign the heat in her gaze. The rare sex worker who enjoys her job makes the package she presents even more fascinating.
Reya focuses on her plate for a moment, and I sit back in my chair, surveying my second-in-command. His jaw is clenched as he watches his spy. He hasn’t touched his food since Celia served it, and he’s been glaring over my shoulder whenever I put my hands on her.
If I didn’t know for a fact Soo has sworn off women completely, I might think he had himself a little crush. But, surely not. A man doesn’t bounce back from his fiancée trying to carve out his heart on his wedding day.
“What do you think, Soo?” I ask, drawing his attention.
He clenches his jaw again and stares through me. “About?”
“Allowing our beautiful friend here to see what else she can learn for us. Maybe keep her on the payroll indefinitely if she turns over some useful little tidbits.”
Soo shrugs, eyes skipping Reya completely as he scans the room for threats. A habit he’s never broken from his days running with the unorganized street gangs of Korea. “You do what you want anyway. I’m sure she’ll be an excellent asset.”
I smile at the chill in his tone. Reya glances up at him over her plate, perhaps noting it too. How much time do these two actually spend together? Maybe I don’t know Soo as well as I thought. Or maybe he’s getting better at keeping secrets?
After she takes a sip of wine, I snag her hand in mine and carefully drag her back into my lap. I don’t really care for fucking her today, but the fire in Celia’s eyes makes me want to keep touching Reya.
However, the second she touches me, I compare her to Celia. Reya is taller, thinner, more like a supermodel. But I prefer how sweetly Celia fits to my body.
Even now, the only reason I’m hard—and have been all fucking night—is because of Celia’s petite frame in the scrap of silk she’s wearing.
Reya twines her hands around my neck and resettles against me. Her perfume is too strong, but she’s warm, and I’m enjoying the tension on my friend’s face. It’s not that I want to hurt him, but he rarely shows me even a twinge of emotion. I’ve seen more in the short time we’ve been in this room than I’ve seen on his face in years. Which makes Reya more dangerous to our situation than anything.
If Soo loses control, cities burn.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, “What have you done to my friend here?”
She giggles and glances at him as if we’re sharing a secret. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what you mean. He and I have a working relationship, that’s all.”
I reach down and cup her round ass in my hand. It’s firm and full, and the reaction I expect from my body isn’t the one I get. She does absolutely nothing for me. “A working relationship or a working relationship?”
Another giggle escapes her painted lips as she cups my cheek. “Oh, baby, I never kiss and tell.”
I shoot Soo another glance, but he’s not looking at us, he’s sipping his wine, feigning disinterest. Oh, he’s interested, more than interested.
I twist her in my lap, so she’s facing forward, and I gently lean her over the edge of the table. Her long arms narrowly miss my plate.
“Then if no one else is interested. I guess I could take the edge off.”
She tenses underneath me for a fraction of a second and then relaxes, resting her cheek on the table. When she looks up at me from the corner of her eye, she whispers, “Do it hard.”
Fucking hell. My cock doesn’t even twitch. I should want to do nothing more than beat that fight right out of her and fuck her until she’s begging to follow my orders, but I’m not even a little interested.
Speaking of orders, I pause and listen intently, closing my eyes. I hear nothing but the faint sound of slots from the distant casinos. I don’t bother helping Reya up, but skirt around her lifted ass and march toward the kitchen. It’s way too quiet, and Celia has been gone for far too long. When I reach the kitchen, I find it empty. A few bottles of wine sit on the stainless steel counter, and as I look around the kitchen, I find a lone bottle on the counter further away, near the wide open back door.
She ran. I can’t believe she actually ran.
A smile tugs onto my lips before I even clear the doorjamb. The little brat wants to escape. Then I guess I’ll be the one to capture her again.
Then I’ll show her what happens when you try to run from the devil.
19
Celia
My heart is pounding in my chest, and fear zings up my spine. I miscalculated the distance that this place is to the actual casinos on the other side. Nor did I see the massive fence which lines the entire place from side to side, brick building to brick building.
“Fuck,” I shout into the chilly, empty darkness of the alleyway.
Light seeps from the still ajar doorway I exited.
If I go back now, no one will know I tried to run.
No, he’ll be able to read it all over my face as soon as he takes his mouth off the other woman long enough to notice me.
Wow. I’ve fallen so far. Jealous of some random woman my kidnapper flirts with. It doesn’t matter anymore. I take one last look at the door and head in the opposite direction, up the alley toward a streetlamp cutting through the dark. I hit a fence before I can reach it. My only choices are to retreat inside or keep following the fence until I make my way out of this warehouse maze.
Forward it is. The urge to run beats at me, especially knowing the second he realizes I’m missing, he’ll come chasing after me. The farther I get, the less of a chance he has to find me.
I drag my fingers along the chain-link fence, picking my way through the alley. Trash and debris line the fences along either side of me, so it’s a tough walk to manage in high heels. I peer behind me but can’t see the building I left or the casino on the other side of it. Even the lights are mostly gone. Just a faint brightness in the sky remains from that direction. I keep moving, focusing ahead again, praying I don’t run into anyone out here.
A shout comes from somewhere behind me, and panic rushes through my veins. Fuck these shoes. Quickly, I unbuckle the tiny silver buckles at my ankles and rip the shoes off my feet. Then I do the only thing I can… I run.
My bare feet slap against the rough concrete. Each step shoots a twinge of pain into my ankles and calves, but I shove the pain away. I can’t slow down. Not with him chasing me.
I need to get out of this maze. When I reach the end of the fence line, it cuts to the left, and I jog, hoping it will eventually let me out. Another bellow of rage reaches me, so much closer than before. The fence cuts in another direction, and finally, it opens up to a vacant lot.
My muscles burn as I push forward through the knee-high grass. Every rock scrapes against
the soles of my feet, but none of the pain matters if I can escape. I can feel freedom, see it, almost taste it. I don’t know where I’ll go after this or how I’ll survive, but I will manage.
The bubble of joy pops when an arm clamps around my midsection and drags me into the solid rock of a body. I don’t need to look to know it’s him. I let out a whimper of defeat and try to shove his arm away. He only adds his other one, squeezing me tighter in his grasp.
I use my shoes as a bat, swinging them wildly toward his face and head. One makes contact, or at least I hope it does by the grunt I catch. When I go for another swing, he loosens his hold enough to grab my wrists and tosses the heels away into the field. It doesn’t stop me from fighting. I claw, scratching at his arms and twisting to do the same to his face.
“If you don’t fucking knock it off, I’m going to knock your fucking lights out,” he growls into the shell of my ear.
I scream, the sound piercing the night air while I continue to fight, adding my legs to the mix, kicking and shoving my heels into his shins. With every twist of my body against his, my dress rides up to bunch around the arm that is pinning me tight against him. I don’t care that my ass is hanging out for the world to see. I just need to get away from him.
“Stellina,” he warns, his voice an angry hiss of air in my ear.
I’m almost out of strength. The lights in the distance seem so far now, out of my reach. I give him one last kick to the shin and sink my nails into his forearm. True defeat claims me. I’ve got nothing left, and I sob in his hold. No tears fall, though. It’s more out of exhaustion than anything else.
When I don’t hit him again, he relaxes his grip around my middle, allowing me to draw a full breath again. He spins me in his arms to pin us together, front to front. His dark blue eyes are calm, but I can tell he is seething by the hard set of his jaw and the way his fingers dig into my back. My dress is still bunched up between us. My legs and underwear are completely exposed to the cool night air. I don’t dare pull them back into place for fear of him growing angrier.
“The first thing I’m going to do is spank the shit out of you. And then, depending on how well you endure it, I’ll drag you back to my house and keep you in chains until the auction. Are you happy now? You don’t have a single thing to say to me?” he bites out an inch from my face.
I flinch away, turning my cheek, so he’s not screaming directly at my mouth. He doesn’t like that, and his jaw tightens, as do his fingers, digging into my tender flesh.
He shoves me backward, and I nearly trip over my feet. “Stay the fuck there. If you so much as move an inch, I’ll knock you out and drag your unconscious body home.”
I gulp and pull at my dress to cover some of my exposed skin as he jerks his suit jacket off and throws it on the dirt. Then splits his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. Even in the dark, I can see the ink splayed up his forearms that disappear under the fabric.
He holds his hand out to me, and I drag my eyes between his outstretched fingers and his eyes. When I don’t take his hand, he steps forward, snags my wrist, and yanks me into him again. I trip, and he uses the momentum to pull me down to the ground. The rocks in the dirt cut into my legs as he carefully lays me across his knee.
“You’ve earned yourself a punishment. First, I’m going to spank you, and then we’ll get on with the rest of the business.”
He lifts my dress back up over my ass. I try to reason with myself. Maybe this is another scare tactic. Maybe he won’t actually hit me. That thought evaporates into thin air when the flat of his hand connects to my ass, and I jostle forward across his leg. My flesh burns from the impact, but then the burn fizzles into something deeper, something weighty in my core.
He delivers another smack on the other cheek, and again, I grit my teeth with the impact and ride out the pain into a faint throb that blooms into something else inside me. The next smack is harder, and I hiss out a breath, clawing my nails into the arm clutched tight around my upper body.
“Let go,” he orders. I ignore him and dig my nails in deeper, the pain overtaking reason.
He doesn’t hit me again. Instead, he flips me onto my back and climbs on top of me, pinning me to the ground. His hips part my legs open around him.
I shove at his chest, and he moves my hands above my head and holds them there.
“Guess you should’ve thought about all of this before you ran,” he growls.
“I hate you.” I curl my lip and spit the words at him. I wish they were daggers and had the power to pierce his flesh.
I continue to struggle and wiggle against him, trying to shimmy out from under his body until I feel the hard outline of his cock against my bare thigh.
I freeze at the revelation and suck a ragged breath into my lungs.
He tugs me back into position underneath him, his face even with mine. “Hate me all you want but, if I were you, I’d remain very still, so I don’t forget how much I need you to be a virgin.”
His words sputter through me, and I fold my lips together to keep a moan locked inside. I’m soaking wet from the spanking, and even now, my no doubt welted ass lies in the dirt, and I don’t care. Not when his cock is so close to where I need it.
His exhales shoot sparks along my neck. Even as he speaks, he arches his hips into me, rubbing slowly, deliberately. “Oh, no. I don’t reward little brats who don’t follow my instructions.”
With his face so close to mine, I can see every line, every worry, and maybe a hint of fear. Without thinking of any further repercussions, I press my lips to his, and heat consumes me. I have no idea what pushed me to do it. Curiosity? Fear? Or maybe I’m simply insane.
He freezes against me. He doesn’t respond to my kiss, and the hand that was digging into my thigh a moment ago stills against my fevered skin.
I pull away, heat already washing up my neck and into my ears. Of course, he won’t kiss me back. He’s been vocal about the fact I’m nothing more than a sex doll for his newest client. I close my eyes before the tears slip down my cheeks, and he sees them.
I want him off me, away from my body, so I can think straight. But he doesn’t move, even when I lift my hips to dislodge him. The movement only grinds my wrists harder into the rocky field, along with the backs of my thighs and calves. The pinpricks of pain cut through the haze until his mouth descends on mine.
Some men kiss with permission on their lips. Nic isn’t one of those men. He kisses me with demand and the expectation that I open for him in every way. And when he bites into my bottom lip, using his teeth to tug my lips apart, I pant and wiggle underneath him to pry my hands free.
He releases my wrists and fists the hair at the nape of my neck. The strands tangle between his fingers to deliver a delicious tug with every flex of his knuckles.
His lips plunder mine, devour from the inside out, all the while his hips rock into mine slowly, rhythmically even, as I thrash for more skin, more friction, more anything to reach the orgasm looming at the edge of my grasp.
Every swipe of his tongue against mine is a claim, a flag planted, his body marking mine as his. And I want it more than anything. Him to take everything and keep me.
The thought punches its way through the lust, and I freeze underneath him. Sensing my tension, he jerks up and stares down into my face.
He cups my pussy through my panties. “Every orgasm, every little whimper from your sweet lips belongs to me. And when you come, crashing into a million pieces, your pretty little pussy gushing against my hand, that’s mine too. Every drop of your sweet orgasm belongs to me.
It’s not a whimper he wrings out of me, but a full body shudder. He rips my panties to the side and threads his fingers along my wet skin. The wind across the field raises goosebumps up my legs. He takes his time exploring, tracing the contours of my pussy with his fingers as if he is memorizing every inch of my bare flesh.
It feels like forever before he nudges my opening, dipping in only enough to cause me to clench around nothing, my body ye
arning for more. Always more.
“Such a greedy little brat,” he whispers in my ear, his hips bucking against the seam of my inner thigh as he threads his fingers into my body inch by delicious inch.
Another whimper escapes, and I delve my fingers into his hair. It’s thick and soft at the nape of his neck. I breathe deeply, sucking in his manly scent. He groans into my shoulder and then shoves the last couple of inches inside me with those fucking clever fingers.
When he anchors himself over me to stare down into my eyes, a curl of unease washes through me.
“We’re going to play a game. I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer it correctly, I’m going to make you feel so good. You don’t answer, and I’ll leave you a quivering mess, aching for a release I’ll never let you have. Nod your head if you understand.”
I nod slowly, avoiding eye contact, so he doesn’t spy the urge to shove him off me, to fight his words and the demands of both our bodies.
“Good girl,” he whispers along the column of my neck, his lips tracing along every sensitive bundle of nerves there. “Let’s start with an easy one. Who do you belong to?”
He punctuates his question by shoving his fingers deeper inside me and twisting his hand so that his thumb grazes my clit.
I shudder. “You.”
He rewards me with another slow thrust of his hips and fingers. “Mmm. Very good.”
We stay locked together for a few long moments. I’m panting with the need to move on his hand, to feel any kind of stimulation.
And when I’m squirming below him again, he brushes his lips over mine. “Let’s try one I think you’ll find a little more difficult. Who does this pussy belong to?”
A groan rolls out of me, unbidden, as he rocks his fingers inside me a little faster this time. I meet his thrusts with my hips, trying to pump on him at the same time he pushes inside. He doesn’t let me. The moment I pant again, he stops moving, leaving me thrusting, and him simply holding steady. My ragged breathing doesn’t even sound like me.
