Every time I thrust inside Clara, it’s like I’m seeing the fucking pearly gates. I don’t deserve her sweet pussy, but I’m going to take it over and over again. Because it’s mine. She’s mine.
Her soft cries and the obscene sound of her wetness as I drive into her fill the room, and I think she’s finally let go of her hang-ups about the fact we’re in a public place. Or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore. Her need to come too great to give a fuck about anything but me and the pleasure I can bring her.
I slap my hand down on her ass and she cries out, her pussy tightening around me. God, if she does that too much, she’s going to drag me over the fucking edge before I can get her there. Her body trembles beneath mine and I tighten my grip on her hips, making sure that even if her arms and legs give out, she won’t fall. I’ll never let her fall.
“Tommy,” she moans, my name on her lips like a prayer, and she can worship me any fucking time she wants.
“Are you going to be a good girl and come all over my cock?” I ask on a growl.
“Yes. Fuck, please, yes.”
“Touch your clit, baby.”
She does without hesitation and her fingers fumble over her wet folds, brushing my cock and tearing a groan from my own throat.
“That’s it, Clara. Get yourself to the edge.”
“Tommy,” she cries, her hips pushing back to meet mine with each thrust.
My balls tighten and the tingling in the base of my spine alerts me to my own release speeding toward me. “Now, Clara. Come all over my cock right the fuck now.”
And she does. She explodes around me, her pussy pulsing and dragging me over the edge with her. Blinding pleasure fills my vision, but I can’t pull my eyes from Clara falling apart below me, her legs almost giving way beneath her. But I catch her just like I always will.
Hot cum fills her tight pussy and I revel in how she continues to milk me until every drop of my seed fills her.
Our heavy breaths fill the space, both of us panting from exertion, but she’s not done yet. I help her turn and she all but collapses into my arms, careful not to touch my chest and for some reason, that makes my heart constrict. I hate that she doesn’t think she can touch me, that I’ve put that doubt in her mind.
“On your knees, little fawn. You’re going to clean up the mess you made,” I rumble.
Her eyes shoot up to meet mine, the exhaustion evident, but there’s a heat behind them that makes my cock stir. We’ve already been in this room for so long and going for another round is a recipe for disaster, but it might just come to that.
I help her to her knees, careful not to let her drop the way her body seems to want to and without hesitation, her tongue darts out over my cock, lapping up our combined release.
A unified groan fills the room as she licks and sucks her juices from my cock and gathers the last of my cum from the head of my dick. Jesus, she’s perfect. I keep pushing her, knowing her experience is lacking, but she meets me toe to toe every single time.
When she’s satisfied with how clean I am, she looks up at me expectantly, and I help her to her feet, not missing the way she looks around for something.
“Lost something, Clara?”
“I just need a napkin or something to…” Her cheeks heat at the words that were about to fall from her lips.
“No.”
“No?”
“You’re not cleaning up. It’s part of your punishment. You’re going to sit on my lap while I feed you the lava cake, and then you’re going to walk out of here with my cum dripping down your thighs.”
The tunnels at night normally feel like home, but right now, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than wrapped around Clara. I waited until she fell asleep to leave, telling her I would be back by the time she woke up in the morning, and although her brows pulled together in question, she just nodded and snuggled into me.
It’s finally starting to feel like she’s trusting me, and the meaning in that isn’t lost on me. She’s had so many people disappoint and break her, and it’s only fair that she expects the same thing from me, but I won’t hurt her. I’d rather cut my own fucking heart out than do anything that would hurt my sweet fawn.
My black biker boots hit the damp bricks beneath my feet in heavy thumps as I make my way to the cell I left the assholes in. I can’t wait to hear their screams. It’s the only thing that dragged me away from Clara’s very naked body after I took her for a second time tonight.
It’s not until I round the bend and find the guard on the ground that my hackles rise, and I sprint toward him. I quickly drop to my knees and sigh in irritation. He’s dead. Storm is going to be pissed when he finds out, but that’s the least of my worries as I look up and find the cell door wide open and Mack missing.
Except, he’s left the other man behind, and I’m not sure if that’s a warning to him or to us. I push to my feet and shove the door the rest of the way open, the heavy metal groaning under the movement. These tunnels weren’t used for decades before I started using them as my own personal hunting ground, and the infrastructure leaves something to be desired.
The other man, the one I never bothered to get the name of because he was going to be squealing like a pig as soon as I got back here, is still passed out cold, which he shouldn’t be after so many hours, meaning one thing. They knocked him out on the way out.
How the hell did they know where to find them?
And who is brave enough to enter Saint James territory and steal a prisoner from right under our noses?
I sigh and slip my phone from my pocket.
“What?” Storm answers on the second ring, his voice clipped and quiet, meaning Ayvah is likely asleep next to him.
“Mack Johnstone is gone. They left the other guy knocked out.”
“Fuck,” Storm hisses and the sound of sheets rustling fills the line, followed by a few seconds of silence. “Who the fuck would know where to find our prisoners?”
“Whoever Mack’s working for, I would imagine.”
He sighs and I can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. Before Ayvah came along, he had a lot more patience for this kind of shit, but it’s long gone now. He just wants to do what he has to do and get home to his fiancée at the end of each day without being dragged into shit that shouldn’t involve us.
“Interrogate the guy. Find out what he knows and then kill him. They would have taken him if he was important and we don’t need any loose ends.”
“And Clara?”
“She doesn’t know you found her father?”
“No.”
“Then don’t mention it to her. It’s best we deal with this without her knowing it’s going down and then ask for forgiveness afterward.”
I chuckle but find myself nodding in agreement even though he can’t see me through the phone. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“I’ll keep you updated.” I end the call without another word and walk to the table on the far side of the wall where I keep my tools.
At least the assholes didn’t take my favorite knives. That would have really pissed me off.
Time to get to work.
It takes a few attempts to wake the guy up, which tells me he hasn’t been out for long. I need to check the cameras, but I’ll do that after I make this guy squeal like the pig he is.
I have the cameras at my apartment open on my phone, watching my sweet fawn sleep to keep me as calm as I can be. Torturing someone when you have a lot of pent-up anger is a bad idea for very obvious reasons, and I don’t want to kill this asshole before he can give me the answers I want.
I throw a third bucket of ice-cold water on him and he finally stirs, his body tugging against his ties before he realizes he’s strapped down to a chair and his panicked eyes fly open.
He takes in the space as whatever happened before I returned seems to come back to him, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” I say casually, picking up my favorite scalpel from the table and coming back to him. I had one of my guys strip them both when I dropped them off, but he was long gone by the time whoever came to get them arrived.
“Fuck you,” he spits, and I step back just in time to miss the saliva he tries to hit me with. After years of dealing with people like this, I’m always a few steps ahead of them, anticipating their every move.
“No thank you.”
His eyes flare with annoyance at my obvious dismissal of the meaning of his words, and I squat down in front of him until our gazes meet.
“Look, how about I save us both the speech about doing this the easy or the hard way, and you just tell me what I want to know, and I’ll end your miserable existence quickly?” It’s certainly not my preference for him to die a quick, relatively painless death, but he’s not at the top of my hit list right now, and all my energy is going into making sure Clara is safe.
He shakes his head, not bothering to respond and I sigh. I guess I will get my fix for blood after all.
I bring the blade up to his thigh and hold it against his hairy legs. God, this motherfucker has a lot of hair, and he’s clearly never heard of manscaping. I slice along his leg, digging in until his flesh cuts easily away from his body, eliciting a hiss of pain from the man, but he doesn’t say a word.
I throw the piece of skin behind me somewhere and admire my handiwork for a second, watching as blood begins to bubble to the surface, and then I start working on another strip. And then another. And another after that. Until both thighs are stripped of the hair and skin that covered them when I walked into this room.
“Ready to talk?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my brow.
While skinning someone isn’t particularly physically exerting, the concentration involved in order to make it as painful as possible for the victim never fails to make me sweat.
“You’re a fucking psycho,” he snaps, his eyes wild with anger and fear.
“You don’t know the half of it.” I chuckle, eyeing off which part of his body I want to move to. There’s an art to it in order to put them in unimaginable pain but not push them over the edge so they pass out from it, and so I lean over and start on his forearms. “I’m sure your partner knew what I would do to you if I found just you here with him missing.”
He watches me as I brush my fingers along his skin, testing to find the best place to start to make my job a little easier. My knife is poised against his skin when he flinches, causing me to look up at him. “He said you’d just kill me.”
“And you were willing to die for that motherfucker?” I raise a brow.
He hesitates for a second but sighs. He’s backed into a corner and for once, I think he might actually give me some answers before I’ve made it through half the body. These assholes are always stubborn as hell. “Not him. His employer. Or, I suppose, our employer. He said he would take care of my family. I have a little boy who has cancer. His mother left me and won’t let me see him, but I still send them as much money as I can.”
I can smell bullshit a mile away, and this guy ain’t sprouting it, which only intrigues me more. Interesting. “Go on,” I prompt, sitting back on my haunches and drawing the blade away from his skin.
“Lombardi knows who your girl is and who she works for. I don’t know all the details, but when she fled that night, she managed to grab the USB drive with the files and gave them to her father, who then sold them to the highest bidder. He’s made a deal with Lombardi to spare his life if he hands over the girl. He has a son he thinks she would be good for and intends to marry them off.”
I growl. The idea of my fawn marrying anyone but me making my stomach draw tight with dread. That’s absolutely not happening. Not as long as I’m walking the earth.
“Do you know where they went?” I ask, trying to fight through the red that clouds my vision.
“To get your girl.”
