“Bad things happen to bad girls.” I repeated his words to him.
His gaze wandered over me. “That’s right. And a lot of bad things can happen here. There’s rooms built for just that sort of thing.” And with that, he stepped into the hall and closed the door. The bolt slid into place.
Dustan
“Dustan.” Arthur greeted me when I stepped into his office. I closed the door behind me and made my way to his desk to shake his hand.
“It’s been a while,” I said, releasing his hand and taking my seat across the desk from him.
“You don’t come down here often,” he remarked.
“Chicago’s home.” I grinned. My childhood home, now run-down from years of neglect, resided on the south side of the city. Even after everything that happened, I couldn’t leave Chicago.
“Hmmm.” He nodded. “And Cherise Styles, she’s with you?” Direct and to the point. Arthur was all business. I never had to guess what he was thinking or where I stood with him. He laid it out plain.
“Upstairs.” I steepled my fingers and crossed my ankle over my knee.
“I have information for you.” Arthur dragged a folder from the corner of his desk toward him. “You’re not going to like it.”
The muscles in my neck tensed. If I wasn’t going to like it—I’d fucking hate it.
“Okay, what is it?” I asked.
“Your intel guy, that friend of yours.”
“Bobby, yeah?” I leaned forward.
Arthur picked up the folder but didn’t hand it to me.
“He’s changed teams.” He dropped the folder on my side of the desk, but I didn’t reach for it. Arthur had more to say and, until he finished, I wasn’t touching it.
“What makes you say that?”
“That folder has everything you need to know about Cherise Styles and her family. It took one phone call to get my hands on it. She wasn’t hard to track down, her family not hidden or protected. Bobby’s been jerking you around because he’s trying to make a deal behind your back with the Merde family.”
My teeth clenched while my heart sank lower in my chest. Hot rage dragged through me. “You’re sure?”
Arthur tilted his head. Of course, he was sure. He wouldn’t be telling me if he didn’t have every confidence in the information he handed over. He wouldn’t give his men bad intel.
I picked up the folder and opened it. Bobby had been taking money from the Merde family. He’d given up my safe house. My fingers tensed around the edges of the folder, crumbling them.
“That farm up in Minnesota doesn’t belong to her uncle, it’s your girl’s. One hundred percent hers. Rolled over to her when her parents were killed.” He wasn’t giving me new information, but I sensed more was coming.
“The house fire?” I asked, already sensing the dread building in my stomach.
“Yes, but it was arson. That fire was meant to take out the whole family. Cherise was supposed to be home that weekend from college,” Arthur went on. “Her uncle has a large-scale farm, growing poppies.”
“She’s under the impression the farm grows poppy seeds? I’m guessing it doesn’t,” I asked, a little rattled by the information being spilled to me. Bobby had known all of this. He’d had all of this at his fingertips and withheld it from me.
“The Styles farm is the largest Midwest grower for the Merde family. From what I could find out, her father didn’t want to expand into the second section of the farm. He wanted out altogether, but his brother saw the potential.
“Merde gave permission for the family to be taken out. When Cherise survived, she was sent back to finish college—not welcomed back home. Randall Styles, her uncle, made it clear she wasn’t to come home. He convinced the Merdes she wouldn’t be a problem. But then they saw her on that tape at the bar.”
“Antonio.” I nodded. The night we met. The night all of this began.
“They want her taken out?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, but her uncle does.”
“He wants the farm legally. Why not just have her sign it over to him? She already thinks she did.”
“She signed over her inheritance, yes.” He tapped his temple. “Not a smart one to do that.”
“She was overwhelmed,” I defended her. She’d lost her parents and her uncle—who she feared for a reason I was going to figure out—forced her out of her family home. I knew what that pain was—to lose the love of family and see no hope for the future.
Arthur examined me silently for a beat. “I’m sure that’s what it was. Her uncle used her grief to his benefit. But the land has been in a trust, and now it’s fully hers.”
“And he wants her dead because he thinks he can’t get her to sign it over?”
Arthur lifted a shoulder. “I assume. Does it matter? He wants her gone.”
I sank back into my chair.
“She’s an innocent,” I said softly.
Arthur remained silent.
“The Merde family is helping her uncle get rid of her so he can keep growing for them? Not even trying to get her to cooperate?” I worked out the scenario in my head.
“Sometimes making the problem go away is easier.” Arthur rested his fingertips on the edge of his desk.
“You have a directive on this?” I asked with a raised chin. “Taking out Antonio for them started all this.”
“True,” Arthur agreed. “This is fallout from your assignment.” He stood from his desk. “How you handle it is up to you, but I would suggest getting her to let go of that farm. The Merde family won’t like losing their biggest grower in the Midwest.”
“I’ll handle it.” I got to my feet.
“And Bobby?” Arthur’s eyebrow arched.
“He gave up my safe house to the Merdes. He’ll pay for that.”
“I know he’s a friend—”
“Betrayal isn’t something to be forgiven,” I said with finality.
Arthur gave a curt nod. “You’ll handle it the way you know how. Anything you need, just ask.”
“Of course.” I opened his office door to find a beautiful woman headed toward us. I flashed a grin over my shoulder at Arthur. “I’ll leave you to your business. We’ll be spending the night but will be gone by breakfast.”
Arthur gestured for the woman to make her way inside. “Safe travels,” he said, but his eyes were already focused on his next meeting. I left him to it, and quietly shut the door behind me.
I pulled out my phone and checked for messages from Bobby. Still nothing, but I didn’t expect anything. The botched attempt on my estate would make him run scared. He’d suspect I was on to him.
I climbed the stairs toward my suite. Usually while in New Orleans, I’d enjoy myself in the club. Maybe grab a girl for some fun for the evening. But this wasn’t a typical visit. And I already had someone waiting for me in my bed. Someone I had promised to make squeal with pleasure.
Bobby’s betrayal sucked the breath out of my lungs, but Cherise—she’d be able to put it back.
Cherise
I’d finally figured out the television settings and snuggled beneath a blanket on the couch when the door to Dustan’s suite opened. He stormed in and slammed it, rattling the frame. A dark storm raged in his eyes, sending a lightning bolt through my body when his glare landed on me.
I pulled the soft cashmere blanket up to my chin and sank back into the cushions. His fingers stretched out at his sides. My mouth dried. I’d seen that look before, and he’d been holding a gun at the time. He was ready to kill.
“I stayed in the room,” I said weakly. It hadn’t even occurred to me to go wandering around. The sort of men there weren’t exactly in my typical circle.
He shook his head like he was trying to shake away his anger, but I could see it bubbling, ready to explode.
Had Arthur given him orders to take care of me? I bit down on the inside of my cheek, unsure if I should speak or move. It seemed anything could set him off at that moment. My heart ping-ponged its way t
hrough my chest, making thinking impossible.
Without a word, he shook out of his suit jacket and tossed it on a chair. With his eyes glued to me, he unbuttoned his sleeves and began to undo the row of buttons on his shirt, ripping it from his body once he was done. The shirt landed on the floor.
I swallowed, blinking back tears. There wasn’t anywhere for me to run. Every inch outside of that room was as dangerous if not more than the space inside it. He’d said there were rooms for bad things.
The blanket trapped the heat of my body, making me shiver in a cold sweat as I watched him start toward me. His white deco tee stretched across his broad chest, making it easy to see his muscles rippling as he moved. He stopped when he got to the arm of the couch. Three cushions. Only three cushions separated us, and with one step he’d be right on me.
My fingers loosened on the blanket, letting it fall into my lap.
“What happened?” I asked, still leery about knowing. If Arthur had called for my demise, would Dustan tell me?
“Good and bad,” he said in clipped words. “Mostly bad.”
I swallowed and pressed a hand to my stomach. The swirling emotions kicked up into hurricane strength when he didn’t continue talking.
“Bad for me.”
He wiped his hand over his face, scratching at the stubble growing on his jaw. “No, darlin’. You’re safe. Like I said.” His tone remained low, dangerous, but his words and the little kick up of his lips softened the air between us.
I shoved the blanket off and crawled across the cushions to the other side of the couch. Getting up on my knees, I rested my hands on his shoulders.
“You’re pissed though.” I ran my hands over his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles.
“Not at you.” He slid both hands around my neck, fisted my hair, and pulled my head back. “You were good for me. You stayed.”
I winced at the sting his fingers caused.
“The television sucks,” I said, his dark mood stoked my smart-ass side.
His lips spread wide into a grin. “The television is fine, darlin’. The remote’s a little confusing.”
Were we really talking about the TV? He pulled my head back more, his gaze floating over my face, my neck, my body before returning back to my eyes.
“Take off your clothes.” He released me with a little jerk. “I promised you a reward.”
I sank back until my ass pressed into my heels and looked him over. He needed a release.
In record time, I removed every stitch of clothing and stood in front of him, waiting. His eyes never left me. He seemed to be soaking me up.
The backs of his fingers skated across my collarbone and down to my breasts. Cupping them, he flicked his thumbs over my nipples. “I love your tits,” he said. Some of the darkness crept into his tone, making him sound ragged and raw.
My hands went to his belt, working the leather through the buckle until it hung open at his waist.
“Need something?” He chuckled as I unbuttoned his slacks and shoved his zipper down.
“You,” I said gruffly, slipping my hand into his boxers and wrapping my fingers around his hard shaft. Smooth and warm. I licked my lips.
Without asking, or waiting for direction, I sank down to my knees. Feeling his stress swirling around him, pressing against him. Whatever happened in his meeting, it’d left him rigid with anger. I couldn’t fix the big problem, but I could help him now. I could give him the release he needed to relax. Once he was soft again, once he’d expended the angry energy, he’d be able to find his answers.
I let him go and grabbed his slacks, pulling them down to his feet, along with his black cotton boxers. He kicked out of them and fisted his cock in front of my lips, slowly stroking himself until a small bead of pre-cum appeared on the head.
Looking up, I met his gaze and flicked the moisture from his cock with my tongue and ran it along my upper lip. His jaw tensed, and he grabbed my hair again.
“Hard, darlin’, suck hard.” He gave me no warning before shoving his dick past my lips and deep into my mouth. I gagged when the tip of his cock hit my throat, but he didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care. He pulled out and slammed back in again. I prepared myself, swallowing him down.
“Fuck, yes.” He growled over me and tightened his fist. Tears pricked my eyes, more from the sting in my scalp than his cock filling my throat with every rough stroke.
I remembered his dictate and closed my lips around his thick shaft, sucking hard on him as he continued to fuck my throat. I tried to breathe through my nose, but he cut off my air too easily with his cock. I gasped and pulled back, leaving a mess with all my saliva slipping from my mouth.
He chuckled and leaned down, wiping my chin. “Messy girl.” He smeared the spittle over my chest. “I like you messy.”
Yanking my head back to look up at him, he ran his thumb across my temple, gathering the tears that had slipped down.
“But I love your tears.” He brought his thumb to his lips, suckling on it with a smile.
I wrapped my hand around his cock, enjoying the second his control slipped, and he closed his eyes to the sensation I gave him. I gripped him harder and stroked him, slow at first, mimicking his own actions but then going faster and faster.
“Fuck.” He groaned, and his hips thrust toward me. “Your mouth, darlin’. I want your mouth.” He tapped my cheek with his hand, soft then hard when I didn’t comply right away. “Open for me,” he ordered, and dark eyes met mine when I looked up at him.
I parted my lips, and he pushed forward again. I tried to run my tongue along his length, but as in everything with Dustan, he controlled the actions. He fucked my throat again, hard, stretching me and taking away my breath. I steadied myself by pressing my hands to his thighs, his hard, muscular thighs.
As quickly as he’d taken me, he pulled away. “Over the couch,” he ordered, retreating a step. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and slowly moved to my feet. He ripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor.
Fuck, he was beautiful. I wanted to touch him, to trace every line of ink, every hard edge of muscle, but he didn’t look to be in the patient sort of mood. He grabbed my arm and spun me around, delivering half a dozen slaps to my ass and shoved me over the edge of sanity.
I looked over my shoulder at him. Need. So much fucking need burned in his gaze when he leveled me with his glare. My heart danced beneath him.
“More,” I said softly, raising my ass up in the air.
“More what?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
I wiggled my ass, and he laughed.
“More of this?” He slapped me again, and I sighed. “You’re already bruised.” He leaned over me, his cock pressing against my ass and his lips trailing up my spine. “I can’t use my belt, darlin’.” He bit down hard on my back and I sucked in air, closing my eyes and letting the burning pain spread to my chest, releasing the tension I’d gathered since he stormed into the room.
He licked the spot he’d marked.
“I need you,” he said softly, so quiet that I figured it hadn’t been meant for my ears.
I pushed my ass up at him, feeling his cock slip between my legs, through my folds. “I’m here,” I said over my shoulder.
“Exactly where you should be,” he ground out and sank his hand into my hair, pulling my head back, stretching my neck as he positioned his dick behind me. I felt the bulbous head of his cock against my entrance, but as much as I wanted to shove my hips at him, I knew he needed this. The control and power. He needed it as much as I did, and I wasn’t going to fight him over it.
He slapped my hip, sending a current of sharp pain through my ass just as he plowed forward and filled me with his cock. I cried out at the sudden intrusion, the fullness and stretch his cock created, but he wasn’t in a gentle mood.
Thank God.
He took me. He didn’t fuck me or make love but seized what was his. Every thrust bucked me harder toward the edge. He grabbed my shoulder
, digging his fingernails into my flesh and dragging them down my back. I hissed, curling my spine along with the burn. It fueled him.
His strokes came harder, faster, and all I could make out with any real certainty was the sound of our bodies meeting savagely over and over again. I pressed my hands into the arm of the couch, steadying myself as he continued to pound into me.
“Fuck. Fuck!” I chanted and cried out when his fingers once again scratched along my skin. “Fuck!”
“That’s it, darlin’,” he said between harsh pants. “That’s it.”
I stiffened with the next rake of his hand, my mind reeled higher and higher until the fog surrounding me was too thick to see through.
“So close,” I cried out. “So close!”
“Let’s get you there,” he said, but it was from far away. His hands were on me; he’d let go of my hair and was touching me. My back, my ass, my stomach, everywhere.
I arched my body to give him better access, and he slipped his hand between my pelvis and the couch. Finding my clit without any hesitation, he began to rub hard, matching the rhythm of his cock.
“Fuck! Dustan! Fuck!” I screamed, feeling the peak speeding down at me. The fog cleared, and I spiraled down until the explosion catapulted me up again.
“That’s it, come for me, darlin’, come.” His words followed me, but wave after wave drowned them out.
Slowly, the fog lifted, and I felt him again, felt him moving behind me, filling me, and I moaned. Perfect. The waves receded, leaving me in the wake of his movements.
He gripped my hips, dragging me toward him as he thrust twice. He stilled inside of me on the third time. He roared like the king of his pride, as his own release unleashed from within him.
I crumpled forward, resting my head on the couch cushions, chasing after air. Quietly, he slipped from my body and pressed kisses to my back. His lips touched every bite mark, every scratch before he stood up and patted my ass.
“Stay here, like this,” he ordered and then disappeared. I checked over my shoulder and noticed him walking into the bathroom. His back was bare but not smooth. Two long white scars crossed his shoulder blades.
Valor: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 10
