Ransom (Dead Man's Ink #3)

by Callie Hart

  “Open yourself up,” he says softly. “Show me.” I use my other hand to do as he asks, spreading my pussy open so he can see every last milimeter of me, and he groans. He moves on the bed, kneeling I think, probably so he can get a better view. “Now touch yourself, Soph. You’re lying on your bed, and your legs are spread wide open. You’re touching yourself with your fingers, gently, cautiously, and you’re enjoying how good it feels to make your body react like this.”

  Holy fucking shit. Just listening to him say this to me is driving me insane. It feels a little wrong to be rubbing my clit while he watches me, moving in small circles over and over the swollen bundle of nerve endings, trying not to moan as the pleasure begins to build inside me. My fingers are slick and wet, making my job easier; I slowly slide my fingers down a little, so I can tease myself around my pussy, and Jamie swears under his breath. I want to open my eyes, to see what he’s doing, to see how he’s touching himself, but I also don’t want to spoil the game. Instead I push my index finger inside myself, gasping a little at the sensation.

  “Does that feel good?” he asks.

  I’m so swept away in this that I can’t speak. I just nod, pushing my finger deeper, my back bowing off the bed, fireworks going off inside my head. I won’t have to do this for long. I’m going to come so quickly. Something about being watched has me feeling completely outside of myself. Jamie shifts on the bed again. The mattress dips and then I feel his hands hooking under my thighs, dragging me toward the edge of the bed. Still I manage to keep my eyes closed, though I whimper when he roughly pushes my legs further apart and positions himself between them. I can feel his breath on my pussy, so I know he’s not going to fuck me. Not yet, anyway. No, he’s moved both himself and me because he wanted a better vantage point, and now he’s watching me touch myself up close.

  “Jesus Christ, Sophia. You’re incredible.”

  I’m not even thinking anymore. I palm my own breast, rolling my nipple, gasping as I squeeze it tight. It feels so fucking good. My brain has completely shut down, ceasing all coherent thought. All that matters is Jamie’s eyes on me, feasting, enjoying the show I’m putting on for him.

  “Now imagine that you know you’re not alone, Sophia,” he says. “Imagine that someone’s entered the room, and you know they’re there with you, watching you. How does it make you feel?”

  “Wet,” I pant. “So fucking turned on. I can’t help it.”

  “You want to look, but you know you’re not allowed. So you keep on touching yourself, knowing you have an audience, getting wetter and wetter. Do you want to feel him touching you, Sophia? Do you want his hands on your body?”

  “Yes. Yes. Fuck, yes!”

  “Do you want his tongue on your pussy, sugar?”

  I can’t even answer this question. The thought of Jamie going down on me right now is almost too much to bear. I writhe on the bed, increasing the pressure I’m applying to my clit, rubbing in faster, smaller circles as I’m overtaken by my need for him to touch me.

  “I’m afraid if you want something, you’re going to have to say it,” Jamie says, his voice low.

  “Fuck, yes. Yes, I want it. I want his tongue on my pussy. I want your tongue.”

  Somewhere far away, I can hear him laughing a wicked laugh. His hand is suddenly on mine, ripping it away from my body as he licks and laves between my legs. The sensation is intense and soul shaking, and I can barely keep myself together. When he grazes my clit with his teeth, I can’t do it anymore.

  “Fuck, Jamie. Please. Please, I need you. God, this is insane.”

  “You need to lay still,” he tells me. “You need to let me taste you. You need to let me make you come with my mouth.”

  I fist the over starched sheets underneath me, incapable of speech and incapable of laying still. If he wants that from me at this point, he’s going to have to strap me down and gag me or something. That might not necessarily be such a bad idea. It’ll take time, though, and I couldn’t bear him to stop what he’s doing. I’d be hysterical.

  “God, sugar. You taste so fucking good. I could do this all day,” Jamie groans.

  I buck my hips against his mouth, my back bowed so far that only the base of my skull and my butt are in contact with the mattress. I squeeze my breasts, my nipples, pinching them until they send darts of pain racing through me, and still it doesn’t seem enough. My body is electric, my soul is fire, and every single sensation I feel, powerful and devastating, is connected to another more intense sensation that threatens to disconnect me from consciousness and reason.

  Jamie doesn’t get to continue for very long. I’m primed, ready to go off. I try to squirm away from him as my orgasm rips through me, my vision whiting out as a million pin pricks of pleasure explode all over my skin, but he grabs hold of me by the thighs, refusing to let me go. He forces my legs open as he carries on teasing me with his tongue, his hold tight and unescapable, and my climax deepens, creating almost painful waves of ecstasy that sink down into my bones.

  “Shit. Shit, Jamie. I can’t—I can’t—God, stop!”

  He does stop then, an evil laugh reaching my cottonwool-filled ears. I can only just hear him above the muted ringing sound that’s humming inside my head. My lips are twitching like crazy, along with the rest of my body. Jamie nearly has me rolling off the bed when he places one last, quick kiss on my pussy, sucking the slick heat from me. I nearly knee him in the head as my body spasms.

  He pulls back, giving me a moment to regroup. “You’re amazing when you come,” he says. “Fucking amazing. I love watching you lose your shit. It’s my favorite pastime.”

  He says that a lot. I’m beginning to believe his ass. “Can’t. See. Straight.” I pant. “Can’t. Move.”

  Jamie’s laugh grows louder. “We’ll have to see about that, sugar. I’m gonna fuck your mouth, remember?”

  I do remember. I think I’m going to need another minute, but my clit has other ideas. I’m still so sensitive, so over the edge, but I’m aching between my legs at the thought of Jamie’s hard cock inside my mouth. “I know. I want you to. I want to feel deep in my throat.”

  “You’re about to,” he whispers. “But first, open your eyes.”

  My eyelids feel like they’re glued shut at first, refusing to obey me, but eventually I manage to crack them open. Jamie’s naked—god only knows when he slipped out of his clothes—and he’s standing between my legs at the end of the bed, still stroking his dick, cupping his balls in his other hand. The hand he’s using to stroke his cock is slick and wet, and the tip of his cock is shining, too, covered in pre-cum. That only ever happens when he’s incredibly turned on—so turned on that he can barely restrain himself as he fucks me. I’ve always had trouble walking afterward when he’s turned on like that. I love that feeling—the soreness that comes from a hard fucking. It reminds me for days how he claimed me, how he worked my body until it was pliable. Until it was his.

  “You look like you’re about to do some damage with that thing,” I say, my voice hushed, laced with desire.

  Jamie presses his lips together, looking up at me from underneath drawn brows. It’s such a fierce, dangerous look on him that I begin to shake with anticipation.

  “You couldn’t be more right,” he tells me. “Just you wait and see. Get up off the bed, Sophia. Come and kneel in front of me.”

  I love kneeling for him. Having him towering over me is so sexual; I feel vulnerable, so small, completely at his mercy, which makes my head spin. I get up and coerce my limbs into doing as they’re told so I can sink to my knees in front of him. My lips already feel swollen and pouty from where he’s kissed me, bruised almost, and I know they’re about to be even more so. Jamie steps forward, brushing the tip of his cock over my lips. “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I nod, looking up at him, eyes wide and unblinking, knowing how that makes him feel. He shakes his head, muttering something softly, and then he rubs his fingers over my mouth, parting my lips open, sliding his index fin
ger inside.

  I suck. I flick my tongue over the end of his finger, and Jamie’s head rocks back, exposing the strong column of muscles in his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Jesus, Soph. Goddamn it.”

  I allow myself a small smile. I love having this kind of effect on him. It’s so gratifying, to know that I can bring him to his knees if I really want to. He’s still cupping his balls in his other hand, squeezing and gently massaging; I take over, ducking down a little so I can use my tongue on him there. Jamie sucks in a sharp breath, the muscles in his thighs tightening up, locking, keeping him in place as I run the tip of my tongue over him, wetting him, sucking him into my mouth.

  “You have no idea how fucking good that feels,” he pants.

  I’m sure I have a fairly solid idea. He did just send me spiraling into oblivion with his mouth a few minutes ago after all. He uses both hands to take hold of my hair, and I tentatively move upward, taking the tip of his hard, rigid length into my mouth. He curses, his hands tightening their grip on my hair. He wants to push all the way into my mouth, his hips thrusting forward a little, but I tease him, pulling back, only allowing another inch of him inside me.

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” he groans.

  “Mmmhhh.” It’s hard to respond with my mouth full of his dick. Jamie pulls on my hair slightly, angling my head back so I have to look up at him once more. “I’m going to come so hard in your mouth, Sophia. My cock is gonna be so far down your throat, you’re not going to be able to breathe. You want that?”

  Back when we started embarking on sexual escapades together, I would have been intimidated by this statement, but not now. I’ve been here before. He’s done exactly what he’s saying he’s going to do now, and not only did I enjoy it, but I wanted more. Maybe that makes me a slut. Maybe that makes me dirty. So be it. I don’t care, either way.

  I nod, telling him how badly I want that with my eyes. Jamie’s chest rises and falls quickly as he grows more and more excited. “Good girl.” Still holding onto my hair, he tips my head back even farther and begins to push himself into my mouth. There’s no teasing him now. I can see the look of intent in his eyes, and he wants more than that. He wants everything.

  He’s so fucking hard in my mouth. I can taste the pre-come all over his cock, and it drives me crazy. He so goddamn beautiful, so powerful and strong. The deeper he pushes into my mouth, the harder he becomes, until he’s rock solid and throbbing against my tongue, the roof of my mouth, the back of my throat.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. “Oh my god.”

  I massage him as I suck, taking hold of the base of his shaft as I slowly slide my mouth back up his cock. I’m so fucking pleased with myself when his eyes literally roll back into his head. I watch his stomach muscles flex and contract as I lick and suck at him. He seems to oscillate between trembling uncontrollably and then becoming completely paralyzed as I work my mouth up and down, making sure to take him as deep as I possibly can every time. Jamie makes a frustrated, rumbling sound that has me shivering down to my toes.

  I don’t think it’s possible for him to get any harder, but somehow he manages it. I know when he begins to thrust into my mouth that he’s getting close. I squeeze the base of his cock hard as his movements grow faster, more labored. I know all too well what that will do to him; he swears again, growling through his gritted teeth, and then he’s roaring as he comes, his legs shaking as he tries to remain upright.

  I never knew what it was like to almost reach orgasm simply because you made someone else come. Not until I met Jamie. I swallow every last drop as he pours himself into my mouth, and I feel myself glowing. I eventually let him go, and Jamie drops to his knees in front of me, scrubbing his face with his hands.

  “I swear you’re going to kill me one of these days,” he tells me.

  “I hope not.”

  Jamie blows out a deep breath and grins at me. He plants a kiss on my forehead, and then takes me in his arms, pulling me over so that I fall on top of him as he sags to the floor. We end up in a pile of tangled limbs, my head resting on his chest, and we lay there for a moment, both breathing hard, Jamie’s heart hammering beneath my ear. For a split second, everything is perfect. There is no Hector Ramirez. My father isn’t being held hostage. Agent Denise Lowell has crawled back under whichever rock she came from.

  There’s nothing.

  There’s nothing but me and Jamie, and the beautiful ring he just put on my finger, and everything is perfect. I know it can’t be this way forever, but for now it’s more than enough.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  REBEL

  Honestly, I didn’t think she would say yes. I mean, why the fuck would she? Doesn’t make any sense. Things would be so much easier for Sophia if she packed up her shit and went back to Seattle. Well, maybe not Seattle given Ramirez’s interest in her, but somewhere else. Somewhere I couldn’t find her. She surprised me when she agreed to my proposal, but then again Sophia regularly surprises me, almost on a daily basis. I didn’t expect her to want to prospect for the Widow Makers, and I sure as shit didn’t expect her to stick with it once I gave her the green light. Being a prospect is basically bullshit. She’s had to babysit drunk bikers, clean up their puke, stand watch outside while deals are going down, cook breakfast every morning, clean the clubhouse, and put up with every sexist remark under the sun while she’s been wearing that prospect cut, and yet she hasn’t complained. Not once.

  Maybe the guys have gone easy on her since I made it clear they were to show her respect, but still. Being a prospect is fucking terrible. I definitely wouldn’t want to do it.

  I find myself grinning like a fucking tool as Soph pulls up next to me outside Julio’s compound. She yanks her gloves off her hands, and Mom’s engagement ring flashes in the sunlight, sending fractured rainbows dancing in all directions. She catches me looking at it there on her left hand and slaps me on the arm.

  “Focus. We’re about to walk into the lion’s den. You can’t be smirking like the Cheshire cat.”

  She’s right. Julio will probably see it as a sign of weakness or possible insanity if I go in there looking like this. It takes me all of ten seconds to master my expression into one appropriate for the situation. All I need to do is remember why we’re here, after all, and my smile suddenly feels like it’s land sliding off my face to be replaced with a stern, downturned grimace.

  “That’s more like it.” Soph swings her leg over her bike, climbing off, and I do the same. Julio’s men are slowly approaching the gate to the compound, assault rifles butted up against their shoulders, dark eyes fierce and pissed off. Sophia tenses at the sight of the weapons, but her reaction is barely noticeable. I only note the way her shoulders rise a little because I know her so well. To an outsider or a stranger, she would appear to be completely at ease. Her poker face is phenomenal.

  “What the fuck you doing here?” a tall, skinny guy yells over to us. “This is private property.”

  He’s obviously new. The three other men that are with him, guns also raised, snicker at his expense. One of them whispers, “That’s Rebel, man. The Widow Maker.” The tall guy in the middle squints at me, as if he was expecting someone more impressive.

  “You can’t be here, man,” he shouts. “You weren’t invited.”

  “I have an open invite, ese. Might want to check that with your employer.” Beyond the four men, on the inside of the compound in front of Julio’s Spanish style villa, numerous cars are parked in rows. Mercedes Benz. Maserati. Bugatti. Lamborghini. There must be at least eight million dollars lined up in front of the house, shiny and colorful in the early morning sunlight. The tall guy makes a tsking sound with his tongue, waving the muzzle of his assault rifle in front of us.

  “Ain’t nobody getting in here today that ain’t on the list. Julio said so. No exceptions.”

  I lean against the gate, propping myself up with one elbow. The smile on my face is disingenuous to say the least. “Why don’t you go see if I’m an ex
ception, asshole? I’ll wait right here.”

  “You’re gonna be waiting a long time, motherfucker. Maybe I should just shoot you right now before Mr. Perez comes out here and does it himself.”

  “Julio hasn’t shot anyone in nearly ten years,” I say. “And even if he tried, the fat fuck would probably miss. Now be a good little boy and run along, tell him he has visitors. Visitors that don’t appreciate being left hanging on the doorstep.”

  The tall guy lowers his rifle, looking at me and then at Sophia like we have three heads apiece. “Did you not hear me, shit eater?” he snaps. “Get the fuck out of here right now, or these guys will shoot you.”

  Next to him, his three friends all look at each other, shaking their heads. “We ain’t shooting Rebel, man. No fucking way. He’s protected.”

  This is news to me. I’m protected? Man, Julio really doesn’t want those files I have sitting on a hard drive back in Freemantle falling into the wrong hands. He knows the club voted for me to release the information we discovered about his operation to the cops. He knows, without me around to talk some sense into the club, the details I have stored on him in my office would become public knowledge very quickly.

  “Alright. One of you go and get the boss, then. Fuck!”

  The three other guys look at each other like they don’t know what they’re supposed to do. Tall Guy jabs the closest of them with the muzzle of his gun and hisses at him, baring his teeth. “¡Ir a buscar al jefe, idiota!”

  The other guard hurries off with a murderous expression on his face, his hands gripped tightly around his weapon. Sophia inches a little closer to me, hands by her sides, though I can tell by the way her fingers twitch that she wants to take my hand. She won’t, though. She knows better. Doing so will make us both look weak. She straightens her back instead, her gaze traveling from one man to the next, unfazed by the lecherous, openly lewd looks they give her while they wait for their comrade to return with Julio. I’m so fucking proud of her. There was a time when she would have shrunk away from men like this. They would have reminded her of Raphael, and the memories of him trying to assault her would have had her cowering on the ground. These days, she’s strong. Stronger than I sometimes give her credit for.