by BJ Wane
Time for plan B, Zach decided as he cleared their plates and then strolled over to Sandie, his eagerness to get inside her again only tempered by the need to pull the truth from her and end this stalemate between them. With Dax’s return, he planned to introduce her to not only the rest of the guys, but what they enjoyed most when they all got together. A BDSM party on the yacht would be a good diversion and give him time to come up with a plan to help her out of whatever dilemma she’d got caught up in. But first, he intended to torment the truth out of her the best way he knew how.
“I don’t mind.” Clasping her hand, he urged her off the stool thinking his shirt looked damn good enveloping her slender frame. The bumpy outline of her areolas and stiff peaks of her nipples pressed against the soft silk, the green highlighting the color of her eyes as she peered up at him with desire etched on her expressive face. He admired the way she didn’t try to hide either her responses or her blatant lust for his kinky demands. She’d embraced his every demand and introduction into his sexual preferences with enthusiasm and whole-hearted approval, and he was counting on the thread of submission he’d exposed to aid in getting his answers.
“In fact,” he said, lifting his other hand to undo the shirt buttons, “I’ll join you.” Her quick inhale as he removed the shirt lifted her breasts, and his mouth watered to feast on the succulent globes again. Tempering his own lust, he led her back to his room, her quickened breathing and eager step a good start.
“It’s… it’s a little early for you, isn’t it?” she asked as he flicked the wall switch to the right of inside the door, dimming the lights a touch.
“Not for what I have in mind. Lie in the middle of the bed, arms above you.”
“You have a thing for silk,” she commented as she crawled atop the downy, navy comforter and settled on her back with a sigh and eyes full of need.
“Only the best,” Zach returned without qualm, biting back a smile when Sandie rolled her eyes and her own lips quirked with his conceited, succinct reply. Her pale body sprawled against the dark background of plush silk presented a lush picture of pure, carnal pleasure to be had. Zach found himself hard-pressed to keep from pouncing on her and sliding into her slick heat, saying to hell with getting answers tonight. Calling on the rigid control that seemed to have deserted him from the moment he laid eyes on her in his stateroom, he reached above her and wrapped both wrists in a wide, lined cuff attached to the headboard.
“Oh,” she breathed with a jerk against the restraints, her pebbled nipples standing up in quivering invitation. Bending, he sucked one turgid tip into his mouth while cupping his palm over her smooth, bare folds, took a moment to suckle with strong pulls then pulled back with a sharp bite. Circling his hand over her plump labia, he spread the gush of cream she released as he traded the nipple for her mouth.
His heated kiss pressed her into the pillow, her low moan filling his mouth as their tongues dueled, and she arched against him. Releasing her before she stripped him of his intentions, he ordered against her trembling, damp lips, “Spread your legs as wide as you can.” She complied with a hitched breath, the telltale sound diving straight to his cock, engorging his hard flesh into a steel rod as he watched her folds unfurl to reveal the slick, pink inner recess of her swollen vagina.
“Damn, but you’re making it difficult to wait.”
“Then don’t.”
He drilled her with a cobalt stare. “Tell me what I want to know and I won’t,” he said before securing her left ankle to the bedpost.
“That’s not fair, Zachary,” she wailed, frustration and desperate need reflected in her tone.
“Life’s not fair, baby. Deal with it.” He moved to bind her right leg, shooting her a sharp glance when she muttered under her breath, “Believe me, I know that.”
“What?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do, you moron,” she snapped as she shifted her legs and another spate of moisture dripped from her gaping sheath.
Zach admonished her with a hard swat over the tender flesh between her spread thighs. “Manners, Sandie. It looks like you need a reminder of who calls the shots. You’ll answer my questions with respect,” he instructed as he stripped out of his clothes, keeping his tone matter-of-fact. “And address me as Sir. I let a few things slide while we were out at sea, thinking we’d never see each other again. but that’s changed. Lift.” With a hand gesture, he indicated she should raise her hips for the extra pillow he snatched and held out.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Sandie couldn’t believe he would insist on such a thing even though she couldn’t deny the little frisson of pleasure his dictate caused.
“I don’t kid when it comes to sex and what I want.”
She couldn’t fathom why his answer turned her on, but couldn’t deny it did. Her skin burned where he slapped her, the heat egging on her arousal as he stuffed the pillow under her butt, elevating her hips and putting her mound on display.
“Oh, God,” she groaned when he covered her with all six-foot-two of his glorious hardness.
“I told you, Sir will do,” he teased as he nipped his way down her arched neck. “I briefly considered adding a few toys to torture you with, but don’t want to take the time to dig them out. Besides, I believe my hands and mouth will be sufficient.”
She held her breath as he lowered his head and assaulted her nipples, shifting back and forth to suckle one while plucking at the other before switching. Sandie couldn’t argue there, he had diabolical hands and a sinful mouth that worked over the sensitive peaks until they throbbed from the rough attention and stood up in pinpoint hardness by the time he maneuvered his whole body lower.
“Tell me your last name.” Zachary breathed that order against her parted folds, his warm breath shooting straight up her pulsing core.
“Please,” she whimpered, thrusting her mound against his mouth, the move emphasizing her desperate plea.
“Tell me and I’ll lick this pretty pussy.” He looked up the length of her perspiration slick, quaking body, his gaze as hot as the rapid flow of blood through her veins.
Sandie wanted to feel his mouth on her aching flesh so bad, she relented, praying she was far enough away from home the information wouldn’t lead him there. “Bowlin, now, touch me.”
His low chuckle vibrated against her sensitive tissues right before he murmured, “Good girl,” then took a slow swipe up her seam, his tongue slipping just far enough inside to graze her protruding clit before retreating.
“What? Why’d you stop?” she gasped, trembling from uncontrollable need.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“Why’d you stop, Sir.” Zachary teased her with another lick, his look of enjoyment a hint he relished the taste of her cream as he waited patiently for her compliance.
Shaking with pent-up lust, she gave him what he wanted. “Sir. Now, do that again.”
His deep sigh and shake of his head didn’t bode well for getting her demand met. “Again, you don’t call the shots.” The sudden pinch on her clit drew a pain-filled, startled shriek and a brief, futile struggle to disengage him from between her sprawled legs. “Behave,” he ordered sharply, pinning her again with just a look.
“What do you want, Zachary?”
He tightened his jaw at her plaintive question before replying with one word. “Answers.”
Zachary slid his hands under her buttocks, cupping the malleable globes then squeezing as he lifted her pussy to his descending mouth. Taking his time tormenting her flesh, he nipped at the soft folds then licked inside her slick channel. His low hum of approval drew goosebumps along her skin as he seemed to savor the taste of her on his tongue. He bided his time, waiting for the tiny contractions of her impending climax to clutch around his jabbing tongue before he frustrated her again by pulling back.
“Who’s after you, Sandie?” He punctuated the question with a slow insertion of three fingers. She shook as her inner muscles clamped around them, and she
felt another spurt of cream soaking his digits.
Shaking her head, she fought against answering him, but the sudden invasion of his fingers replacing the soft strokes of his teasing tongue proved too much, especially when he hit that special spot deep inside her. The pressure sent her flying into orgasmic orbit, spasms of pleasure threatening total eruption until he once again backed off. “Please, please, Sir,” she chanted, her hips gyrating with urgency against his face, so lost in the desperate demand of her body she didn’t realize how easily the title accompanied her pleas.
“Tell me.”
He added to his insistent demand with another deep-rooted plunge, the sawing of his hand back and forth, in and out with forceful plunges and mind-numbing strokes against her swollen tissues met with the slick slurp of her ever-producing juices. Shaking, her fierce arousal neared the critical stage, threatening to drive her mad if she didn’t attain relief soon. In dire need for the exquisite end to this torture, Sandie caved to his demand, willing at this point to do anything, say whatever he wanted her to if it meant an end to this torture.
“My… my stepfather. I… oh, God,” she groaned when he tugged at her clit then laved the ache before pulling back and waiting with a patient look up. Too far gone to continue resisting, she caved. “I witnessed a murder, ordered by him… he’s been after me ever since… please Zachary!”
“Good girl.” His approval reverberated up her quivering pussy as he dipped his head and wrapped his lips around her clit. Two strong suctions and she splintered apart, gyrating against that talented, marauding mouth as he slurped between her legs with a voracious appetite. Even Sandie heard the fear and relief in her cry before the pulsations left her reeling with their intensity.
Before she could come down from the exalted high and get her bearings, Zachary slid up her body and plunged inside her still convulsing pussy. She smelled herself on his shiny mouth as he whispered in a harsh tone, “Again, with me,” then tasted her release on his tongue and lips when he commanded her body’s response with as much force as he did her pussy again.
Zach pounded into Sandie with all the finesse of a raging bull. Her words echoed in his head, fear for her driving him to coerce her compliance in staying with him where she’d be safe the only way he knew how. The spasm of her blistering hot walls seared his dick, milking his climax out of his sac to spew forth in a fiery release of blinding pleasure. He dimly heard her mewls of pleasure as the continued spasmodic clutches threatened to strangle his cock along with his sanity.
“Fuck,” he swore as stars lit up the darkness that had descended with her revelation. “It’s not the thugs after you who’ll be the death of me, Sandie,” he ground out as he slid out of her one slow inch at a time. Needing to think, and plan, he released the bonds, removed the hip-elevating pillow then rolled her limp, sated body to the side so he could scoot her under the covers.
“I need to shower,” Sandie mumbled in drowsy contentment, her eyes still bleary with pleasure as she gazed up at him.
“In the morning. Go to sleep, you’re safe here, baby.”
She was asleep by the time he had cleaned up in the bathroom, the exhaustion on her face even more pronounced now. Imagining what she’d been through, wondering how long she’d been trying to stay one step away from her stepfather’s goons and living in constant fear, he berated himself for ignoring the telltale signs of her ordeal those few days on the yacht. Vowing he’d make up his selfish neglect to her, he donned a pair of jogging shorts and slipped quietly from the room.
It was still early with the sun disappearing on the horizon and the moon taking its place as Zach strode to the leather and chrome bar and poured himself a stiff drink. Sandie’s disclosure explained why she slept so much when she felt safe. How long had she been alone, on the run and afraid? And why hadn’t anyone told him when he fell for a woman, it would be with the soul-shaking rush of a headlong dive over a steep cliff into the swirling, raging depths of uncharted waters? “Christ, what a cluster fuck,” he swore, running a hand down his bristled face.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his cell and pressed Troy’s number. He’d start with his cop friend and then send a text to the rest. Anyone willing to lend him some advice and support, he’d gladly accept. The only good thing to come of hauling Sandie back here and seducing her secrets from her had been the diversion from his mother’s death. Scanning his eyes over the pictures on the mantle, he acknowledged the ache in his chest still hurt, but had lessened to a dull throb from the excruciating pain he’d experienced a few short days ago. Channeling his energy and focus on freeing Sandie from the threat of what she witnessed offered him a new purpose in life and a way to come to terms with his perceived failures with his only relative.
“Hey, Troy,” Zach said when Troy picked up. “Guess who decided to return home?”
“What the fuck did you just tell me?” Jacques Deveau roared before remembering where he was. Swearing, it took supreme effort on his end to control his hair-trigger temper as he listened to the failure Joe was relaying. Clutching the phone in a tight-knuckled grip, he surged out of his office chair and stood looking out the window at the oasis of his professionally gardened back yard. Anger over yet another botched attempt to grab Cassandra prevented him from appreciating the summer beauty of the landscaping. Damned imbeciles.
“You let a good Samaritan get the better of you?” he questioned in a softer tone he knew reflected the deadly intent filling his mind. “You’ll be on the receiving end of the next bullet to the head if you fuck up again, Joe. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir. We’ll find her, Mr. Deveau, don’t worry.”
“Do you have any other leads, anything to go on now?” He wouldn’t panic, he thought, at least, not yet.
“I managed to jot down partial plates on the two cars parked in front of the shelter then we circled the block and those were the only two gone, so one of these has to belong to those guys.”
“Guys?”
“Yeah, boss. Four of them, big dudes. But, we’re on it, no worries. If you can have your man on the inside run these numbers, maybe give us a lead, that’d help.”
Make that fucking, moronic imbeciles. “Just what is he supposed to do with partial information?” he asked, not bothering to temper the sarcasm. The long pause came close to drawing a humorless grin from him.
“Maybe come up with a list we can start whittling down? They were Florida plates, does that help?”
Sighing, Jacques closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll check with him. And, Joe?”
“Yeah, boss?”
Ignoring his henchman’s hopeful tone, he stated with quiet emphasis, “I want her found and dealt with, soon. Or else.”
Snapping the phone shut, he tossed it on the desk with a loud clatter, uncaring the corner chipped off the cheap plastic. Maybe he should take Victoria on a long vacation, a really long one, like in, never coming back. Say to hell with the mayor’s gig and fold up his side business. He could afford to live on an island, just not in the style he was used to and preferred. Picturing everything he’d have to give up, he squelched that idea for now. Besides, the way his wife had been moping the past few weeks, nagging him for news of Cassandra, it was all he could do not to smack her around some, just to shut her up. It was doubtful he’d get her to agree to moving until her daughter was found, so it’d be best to bide his time a little longer, call in a few favors if necessary, before he moved on.
Resuming his seat, he noted there was still a good hour until dinner and dove into work, shoving aside troubles he couldn’t do anything about right now.
Victoria inched away from her husband’s closed office door, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to pop out of her chest. A lump of terror lodged in her throat as she tiptoed back down the hall and padded into the kitchen to oversee dinner. She’d never heard that cold anger reflected in Jacques’ voice when he’d been yelling at someone and never wanted to again. The menace in his tone came throug
h the closed door and caused dread to churn in her stomach. A mother’s instinct told her that phone call and his rage over what he heard concerned Cassandra, adding to the icy claw of fear for her offspring. How could she have let herself get so caught up in her grief and pathetic neediness to the extent she failed to protect her and Ted’s daughter?
Taking a deep breath, she worked to get her jittery hands under control as she stepped into the kitchen. Marchand, their chef, had a discerning eye and could read her like a book. Since he was one of her husband’s employees, she couldn’t afford to let him catch her unawares. There’d be no telling what he’d report back to Jacques. One thing was for sure. She needed another night alone in the house to retrieve the voice recorder and prayed it held something she could use to help Cassandra.
“Everything okay, Mrs. Deveau?” Marchand asked as soon as he set eyes on her, proving she’d failed to get herself under control.
Shifting her eyes away from the probing intent in his dark brown gaze, she padded over to the refrigerator, saying over her shoulder, “Fine, Marchand. How about if I make a salad to go with whatever smells so good?”
“That’d be good. Hopefully my ‘to die for’ chocolate mousse dessert will put Mr. Deveau in a better mood. Something sure has him riled up.”
The chef’s comment took her by surprise. She’d never heard the man make such a personal comment about Jacques before. Fearing he might be testing her, Victoria strove for a lighthearted response. “You know how cranky he can get when his golf game isn’t up to par. He mentioned the lieutenant governor got the best of him yesterday.” In his mid-fifties, Marchand wore his long, salt and pepper hair pulled back in a small bob, and with his rugged features and well-toned body despite his calorie-laden job, she imagined he turned more than a few female heads. Right now, between her husband’s secretive behavior and her daughter’s unexplained absence, all she could see was a possible threat.
