by Tara Leigh
Seb. She has a fucking nickname for him. “He’s heir to a drug empire. He’s hardly going to be sampling product.”
I send the photo I took in the bathroom to Finley. The man is dead, but I’m certain he wasn’t working alone. Everyone in his crew is as good as dead, too.
Aislinn puts her hand on my thigh. “Do you think Sebastián has something to do with this?”
“I do.” Not that I have a shred of proof. Yet.
“What would have happened if you hadn’t come for me? Would I have been taken to Mexico? Would—”
I answer with complete certainty. “Nothing. Because I will always come for you. No one will hurt you, Aislinn.”
No one but me.
My gaze lowers to her reddened throat. Staring until a blaze of rage obstructs my vision.
Fuck. Another man’s handprints are on Aislinn’s skin.
Before I can stop myself, I’m on her, claiming her, my fingers squeezing the slender column of her throat, my mouth swallowing the last puff of breath she manages to get out, my tongue pushing past her white, even teeth.
Aislinn tenses for just the briefest of moments before relaxing into me. Arching her back and opening herself up to me. I am fascinated by her neck. Smooth and slender and so damn fragile. It would take almost no effort on my part to snap it in two.
The errant, unexpected thought hovers like a dark shadow, because that’s exactly what I did to the man who stained Aislinn’s skin with his touch.
The muscles lining her throat are like a damp sponge within my grip, collapsing under the pressure I exert. I can feel the blood rushing through her veins, the frantic beat of her pulse, the fresh surge of panic rising like a rogue wave.
I am taking, fuck I’m taking … but she is giving too. And Aislinn giving—it’s the sweetest surrender.
Easing my grip and ending our kiss, I rain kisses over the skin I’ve marked as my own. I can feel the heat of my fingerprints as Aislinn gulps at the dry, temperature-controlled air of the car.
A few minutes ago, I killed a man. In front of Aislinn.
And yet, she’s here with me now.
No matter what Aislinn thinks she knows about me, about my reputation, now she has witnessed my nature with her own eyes. I have committed the most fundamental of sins in her presence. I am a murderer.
And yet, she kisses me like a lover.
Once Aislinn’s need for oxygen is sated, her breaths evening out, I bite down on the plump flesh of her earlobe, hard enough that goose bumps break over her skin, racing outward like a line of falling dominoes. I run a hand over them, pride flaring at the texture beneath my fingertips. “When we get back, I’m going to take this pretty throat of yours. Has anyone ever done that to you?”
I know the answer. Aislinn hasn’t been with anyone but Chad in years, and that asswipe wouldn’t dare to be so sexually aggressive with James Granville’s daughter. But I pull back so I can see her face when she answers me.
“No.” The word is husky with arousal but still hesitant.
I press a kiss on her lips. “I’m going to fuck your face and you’re going to swallow every inch.”
Aislinn shakes her head, eyes going wide. She might not realize it, but she likes to ride the edge. I’ve known this from the very first time her breath turned to needy pants when I threatened her with a spanking. From the way she squirmed so sweetly on my lap when I teased her ass.
And now desire and dread are waging a war in her head, opposing undercurrents battling each other below the flawless surface of Aislinn’s skin. “I don’t think …”
I know she’s feeling the sizable bulge pressing into her right now, recalling the length and girth of the organ that had filled her so deeply just days ago. Imagining it in her mouth.
She swallows, and I watch the bob of her throat, knowing my cock will be there soon. I’m so fucking hard right now. “Don’t think. For once in your life, just let yourself feel. Feel me.”
That’s my mission. To push aside everything Aislinn saw and experienced tonight. To destroy the memory of a man who had only malice on his mind, to erase the image of his dead body, to end this night with Aislinn’s throat aching for an entirely different reason and because of an entirely different man.
The car pulls to a stop. I don’t wait for the driver to open the door before stepping onto the curb, tugging Aislinn with me. It’s time to make her forget the pain of this night, and embrace the pleasure only I can give her.
31
Aislinn
I ’m still clutching my purse tightly in my hand, even though there’s no chance of my phone ringing. I can only hope that whoever was calling will try again tomorrow. That she won’t give up.
That she is safe.
We’re barely inside Damon’s bedroom when he plucks it from my hand and drops it to the floor. His strong fingers plunge into the hair at the back of my neck, trapping a fistful of it with a turn of his wrist. I yelp softly as he presses me against the nearest wall, his breath hot against my ear.
I know what he’s doing, putting me in the same position I was in earlier. But it’s not the same at all.
A different wall. A very different man.
“You’re safe with me, Aislinn. I swear it. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I murmur.
“I don’t.”
I want to believe him. And I almost do. “Not even you?”
His hold on me loosens until his fingers are curved around my neck, tenderly coaxing the tense muscles lining my spine. “I’m the exception, always. When I hurt you, you enjoy it.”
This is the truth. I have yet to feel pain at Damon’s hand that wasn’t liberally laced with pleasure. Even my fury has felt good.
After a lifetime of being the dutiful daughter, the good girl, minding my manners—I am intrigued by the darkness Damon has exposed me to.
Tonight, I want to dance with the devil.
I’d willingly beg for the privilege.
For a moment, I allow myself to enjoy Damon’s gentle caress.
But gentle isn’t what I crave.
Sinking to my knees, my hair slips through Damon’s fingers like silk, my dress pooling around my bare legs in a whisper of satin. I hear his sharp intake of breath as my hands reach for his belt buckle, feel the shudder of his abdomen as my fingers curl over the waistband to unbutton his tuxedo pants, followed quickly by the more subtle whine of his zipper.
Damon’s cock springs loose, bold and ready. It is my first glimpse of him, and the sight has me entranced. Long and thick, with a broad, flared crown, his cock is impressive.
I am awed he was able to fit inside of me … even as the needy throbbing between my own legs is proof that he did. Pleasurably. Perfectly.
Bracing one hand on the wall behind my head, Damon cups his palm over my jaw, his thumb riding the crest of my cheekbone. I look up at him, into that brooding stare that somehow blazes with light, offering a window to the conflicting dark monster and save-the-damsel-in-distress knight that make up this multi-faceted, fascinating man.
Damon’s lips twitch, as if he’s about to say something. But a long moment of silence passes. He says nothing, and neither do I.
Tonight, it is my choice to fall to my knees at his feet.
My desire to taste him that is making my mouth water.
Without a word exchanged, I look away from Damon’s face and back at this most private part of him, wrapping my hands around the ridged skin that is flushed and unexpectedly smooth. With a curious tongue, I lick the salty bead of precum that clings to the tip. A fat, juicy pearl that dissolves as I swallow.
Emboldened, I slide my hands to the root so I can explore the rest of him. Open-mouthed, I drag my tongue along with the underside of his cock, savoring the ridged surface that somehow manages to feel velvety smooth, giving long, fluttering licks along the sides and top.
And I savor each of Damon’s shaky breaths, too. The ones he sucks in throug
h gritted teeth. The ones he gulps down, then chokes on. His exhales are long and drawn out, his sighs interspersed with quick bursts of air that ruffle my hair.
I work my way up and down Damon’s entire length, his balls hardening against my hands. Until I draw back, just slightly, to swirl my tongue around the flared crown. His desperate groan is all I need to press my forehead against the hard plane of his lower abdomen, the expensive cotton of his shirt an unfortunate barrier.
I open my mouth, wide, then wider. Feeling a momentary flash of panic that I won’t be able to take him in. But I do, the swollen head just barely making it through my teeth.
I keep moving forward, pressing the flat of my tongue against the base of his cock as he fills my mouth.
Deeper and deeper, until he hits the back of my throat. He’s still only halfway in and I push a little farther, gagging. I retreat, wiping at my eyes, taking quick, shallow breaths as I consider my predicament. When I look up at Damon, he’s wearing a smirk that manages to be both sexy and sympathetic at the same time. “Too much for you, princess?”
Yes. “Not at all.” I lick my lips and take one more breath before leaning forward again. Now that I know what to expect, he doesn’t feel quite so invasive. My lips stretch around my teeth, the head of his cock sliding eagerly into my mouth. This time, when he hits the back of my throat, I push a little farther. But again, I gag.
Damon’s hands return to my head, and he doesn’t let me pull back. “Breath through your nose, Aislinn.” His hold is firm but not cruel, and I relax into it, letting him set the pace.
Maybe I don’t want to be in control. At least, not entirely. Even now, I know I could push off Damon if I wanted to.
I don’t want to.
And that’s exactly the point. Everything we are doing right now is about what I want, what I need. I am in control of a man who always controls.
It’s scary and seductive, and each minute in this room is making the recent past seem like a bad dream, the sharpness of it already blurring at the edges. I want to be lost in this. Not that.
I want to be lost in him.
I’m making a deal with the devil, but I’m all in.
And Damon knows it.
He hits the back of my throat and pushes past where I had given up. I gag again, my neck muscles convulsing as my eyes water and my hands curve around his solid thighs, holding on for support as he steers deep into my throat. I can feel the hard length of him pulsing inside my mouth, the scratch of his shirt against my face, the throb and clench of desire deep inside my core.
And then he is pulling out of my mouth, the crown of his cock remaining just within the gate of my teeth. Oxygen floods my brain, the sound of rushing blood filling my ears. I am dizzy, high on the taste and touch and scent of Damon King. Drugged by the weighty thickness that stretches my mouth, the tense fingers that grip my scalp, the ragged groans that slip from his lips.
One last breath and I am drawn forward again, taking him deep into my throat. I relax into the rhythm Damon sets up.
I don’t have to think. I don’t want to think.
I simply feel.
I feel the plush rug that cushions my knees, the exquisite fabric that kisses my skin, the sway and slide of my hair over my shoulders. I feel the strength of Damon’s limbs, planted so solidly in front of me, the tightness of his muscles, the controlled restraint of his thrusts.
I revel in his ironclad control, even as I want to shatter it.
Damon’s speed picks up, his grip on my head tightening. With each thrust, my nose is pressed against the short, cropped hair at the apex of his thighs.
One of my hands drops to my lap, creeping beneath my dress. I am grateful to be bare, my fingers wildly circling my slick clit.
I am not the only one of us desperately seeking release, intent on breaking free of the lust that had wrapped around our chests so tightly. Right now, it feels like a cage.
Damon smacks one of his hands against the wall behind my head, “I’m gonna—”
He grunts, the muscles in his thighs trembling, his balls drawing up so tightly that they hit my chin for the next several thrusts.
His explosive yell is what pushes me over the edge. It is the sound of a man who has finally succumbed—to pleasure so overwhelming it has become pain. Right now, I own that pleasure. His pleasure. The power is all mine.
As Damon’s dick pulses within my mouth, my own orgasm rushes through my veins. Thick jets of salty warmth flood my throat, coating my tongue as I swallow it down.
Eventually, Damon’s thumb reaches beneath my chin. I meet his eyes, our stare unbroken as his cock slips from my lips. It is still hard and thick, and I tilt my head to the side, instinctively rubbing my cheek against its length.
I have been naked with this man. I have been fucked by this man.
But right now, for the first time, we are truly intimate.
I don’t love Damon King. Most of the time I don’t even like him.
But what I just did, what we just did … would never have been possible with a man I didn’t trust.
I trust Damon King with my life and my body.
And tonight, he has proven himself worthy of both.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice a raspy husk of itself.
Damon rubs the rise of my cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, a look of surprise crawling onto his features. “You’re thanking me?” His voice sounds raw, too.
“I am. I …” I break off, unsure how to express what I’m thinking. But after a moment’s hesitation, I simply admit: “I needed that.”
And I did. I needed the terror I’d felt earlier to be diluted with lust, with desire.
He chuckles as he pulls the back of his shirt over his head, not bothering to unfasten the remaining buttons, and tosses it in a corner of the room, then reaches down to sweep me into his arms, drawing me against his bare chest.
I expect to be dropped into the center of his enormous bed, to be pressed into the mattress as he crawls over me. But he walks right past it. “Where are you taking me?”
I haven’t even finished asking the question when my feet are set onto the marble floor of Damon’s bathroom. As he turns away from me to start the shower, I notice the streaks of mascara on my cheeks, the wild tangle of hair that tumbles over my shoulders.
But when Damon turns around, the look of naked appreciation on his face makes me feel beautiful.
And desired.
And like I want to have shower sex.
If this is an exchange of power, I am ready to cede mine now. To submit and enjoy Damon’s mastery of my body.
32
Damon
I leave Aislinn asleep in my bed. I have to.
I can’t lie beside her, knowing I haven’t completely eradicated the threat to her safety. Knowing I am responsible for the deaths of two men, and another kidnapping attempt is undoubtedly imminent.
I won’t lie beside her, with her hair on my shoulder, her back to my front, my spent cock nestled between the perfect globes of her ass, pretending that what is waiting outside my bedroom walls can just … wait.
Finley is downstairs in the subterranean office, multiple security feeds of the ballroom running on the screens mounted to the wall. I stand silently for a moment, watching and listening as she directs her staff with a stern hand. Under her guidance, the video is cleaned so that strategic bits of static appear throughout the tape, obscuring my face.
After several minutes, I ask, “Are we clear?”
Finley doesn’t turn and shows no surprise at my voice. “We got lucky. There’s no camera pointing directly at the ladies’ room. It took a little more work to hide you and Aislinn leaving. I had to hack into external CCTV cameras to erase the few seconds you were outside on the sidewalk.”
Somewhat relieved, I ask her the most important question. “Has anyone discovered the body yet?”
A flash of pride streaks across Finley’s face just before she strides to a computer and enters a series of
commands into the keyboard. All of the screens become one image—the lobby of the gala. A maintenance man enters the picture, pushing a garbage bin with a mop and bucket attached.
“This was less than forty-five seconds after you left.” Finley adds, “Good call on having a couple of our clean-up guys waiting, by the way.”
I nod in acknowledgment as we watch a woman in a black dress approach.
“That’s the event coordinator. She wasn’t happy about our guy shutting down the bathroom, but he explained that someone had called maintenance about a toilet backing up. She took his word for it, told him he had better get it cleaned and back in working order ASAP.”
On screen, he enters the bathroom with his garbage trolley. Our other guy, also in a maintenance uniform, walks over, discreetly wiping the surface of the door and handle as if he’s just doing his job.
My stomach clenches as another woman walks toward him, but now the one Finley said was the event coordinator runs interference, re-directing her to another bathroom on the opposite end of the main hall.
Thirty seconds later, the door opens, the maintenance worker and his garbage trolley reappearing. Because I know exactly what is inside, I notice that the cart is moving more slowly now, taking slightly more effort to push across the carpeted lobby and back into the bowels of the building that no guest will ever see. The kitchen and utility and laundry facilities with their own set of elevators leading to an underground parking garage.
They didn’t find the body. Thank. Fucking. God.
“Have you tracked down his accomplices yet?” I ask.
“Working on it.”
“What about Sebastián Cruz?”
“He remained in his seat the entire dinner. No sign that he knew what happened in the bathroom.”
Which was proof in itself. Cruz was only a few feet away from where Aislinn was sitting. He had to know that she rushed out of there and never returned. “Clone his phone.”
“I’ll need to get someone close to him for that.”
“Do it.”
