She’s a pawn in a dangerous game.
Publisher’s Note: This steamy contemporary romance contains elements of mystery, suspense, action, adventure, danger and power exchange. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.
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with Asha Daniels
Tell me a little about yourself.
I’m a Southern girl with a penchant for the ocean and southern cooking. I’ve always loved writing books, but only recently decided that time was running short. You know how these southern girls are.
When did you first want to become an author?
Honestly? In grade school. I remember writing a short story that actually won an award. My parents were shocked. I was hooked.
What genres of books do you write?
I write emotionally charged romance including menage, mysteries, spanking and domestic discipline.
What are your favorite books to read?
I’ve always read horror books. I know, what’s a good southern girl doing reading about monsters!
What is your favorite movie and why?
Terms of Endearment. The movie always made me cry.
Do you have a favorite time of day to write?
In the morning, when the sunlight just comes over the horizon. I love the colors and the inspiration.
Do you write to music and if so – what is your go to music?
I love all kinds of music but for writing, 80’s music. What’s not to love about hair bands? Don’t judge me!
Where do you most often write?
In the kitchen, where I can look out on the yard and watch the puppies play.
What has been your favorite experience writing?
Getting published of course!
What is the best method of marketing that you’ve found?
Well, since I’m new, I guess I’ll learn but networking is really the key.
Do you have any advice for anyone longing to become an author?
Write. Write. WRITE! Don’t let anyone stop you.
How did you celebrate after your first book was published?
When Her Rugged Cowboys was published, my sweet husband bought me a pair of spurs. Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?
FUN QUESTIONS – First thing that comes to mind and any commentary would be delicious
Dogs or Cats?
Dogs with a capital D. They are my soulmates.
Red or Black?
Red, cause I’m a crazy gal.
Leather or Lace?
Lace. There’s nothing better to slink into.
Meat or Seafood?
Seafood. How can you pass that up in the South?
Chocolate or Twizzlers?
Twizzlers. They are far too delicious.
The Beach or the Mountains?
The beach. I love sticking my toes in the water.
Champagne or Beer?
There’s nothing like a cold brew on a hot day but… Champagne for celebrations.
Sunshine or Snow?
Sunshine! It helps me celebrate life.
Dancing or Dinner and a Movie In?
Hmmm… When I can wear my cowboy boots? Dancing.
I hunger for a man to dominate me, give me the reasons to trust, to understand the woman inside. I will surrender, but only if he captures my heart…
The sentiment was one she’d thought of often, fantasies about the perfect Master, a man whose power and influence was second to his love and protection. She could see herself enraptured, her entire world surrounded by the one man who’d freed her from a dark and suffocating prison. She could envision his strong arms and tender heart, yet a man so commanding that one look and she obeyed.
That was never going to happen.
Didn’t she sound like she’d been reading one too many romance novels?
“You look bitchin’ tonight and good enough to eat. Come here, baby.”
Jasmine Rush gave him a harsh look. This particular man wasn’t included in her nightly fantasies. Johnny Falk, Pitch to his fans, was one of the hottest and possibly the sexiest guitar players, but in her mind, the man was an asshole. Breaking up with him twice had been disastrous. What was the line, three time’s a charm? “What are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be tuning your guitar or applying another suffocating amount of cheap cologne?” You bet she was anxious, her emotions bordering on anger. She had damn good reason to be.
Another threat had been made, this one to her life.
“Maybe I should change that to aren’t you the bitch tonight?” Snuffling, he grabbed both her wrists in one hand as he shoved her against the wall, the hard thud echoing into the room.
“What are you doing? Get off me!”
“Giving you exactly what you crave.” Johnny growled as he pressed his open mouth against her ear, dragging the edge of his teeth down the length of her neck.
She wanted to push him away, to deny him any reaction, but her body failed her. As usual. Craving the rough touch of a man had become her nemesis, preventing her from ending the tragedy shared between them. Moaning, she arched her back as he ground his groin against her stomach. She was wet, her pussy throbbing, her nipples aching. The line between love and disgust was thin and she hated her body for deceiving her.
“You want me. Don’t you? Say it. Say you want my thick cock shoved inside that sweet cunt of yours.” He nipped her skin, suckling on her tender flesh.
Swallowing, she tried to resist, even allowing her growing hatred for him to enter her mind, but as with everything else in her life, she failed.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. “I want you. God, I want you to fuck me.” Had the nasty words actually left her mouth? Pathetic. You’re fucking pathetic.
Chuckling, the sound laced with a dark and evil tone, he rubbed the palm of his hand down her arm to her face then beside her breast to her hip. “You don’t deserve it, you little slut.” He rubbed his mouth up to her chin, breathing out, the sound strangled. “But I’ll tell you what you’re going to get.”
Jasmine wiggled as he kicked apart her legs, forcing them wide open. The moment his hand yanked at the hem of her leather skirt, jerking the material to the top of her thighs, her knees buckled. “What? What am I going to get?” You bet there was disdain in her voice. Something snapped, creating a fog around her vision, hatred in her heart. She deserved far better than this monster disguising himself as a man.
“Don’t be a twat or I’ll blister your ass.” While he grinned, he fingered his belt. “Maybe that’s what you need, a bruised ass before you go on stage. Yeah, wearing my marks. Might even show the guys in the band later what an obedient submissive you can be.”
“Stop it. I don’t want that any longer.” But she did. She wanted a hard whipping, punishment every day but her desires were going to remain fantasies. This man, this bully had plucked her last nerve.
Johnny drove his fingers under the thin lace of her panties, finding her pussy, fingering her swollen tissue. “Hot and wet. As always and just for me, baby.” He plunged all four fingers inside her pussy, flexing them open as he thrust hard and fast.
“Wait. Stop.” Panting, she blinked several times, finding focusing out of the question. The force of his actions rocked her body, slamming her back against the wall. She tipped her head, biting back her cries. He was going to make her come. “I said stop.”
“That’s it. You’ve always wanted this, but you know what you need. A hard spanking. That will calm your ass down.”
She could almost see the glee in his eyes. How the man loved to lord over her the fact she was a born submissive. “Not tonight.”
“Yes, tonight.” Yanking her around, he bent her over, keeping his arm under her waist.
“Stop it!” Jasmine ordered, fighting him, her nails scratching his skin.
He hit her ass hard, using the full force of the muscles in his upper arm. “You need this every day.”
Yanking free, she took a step back, pointing her finger. “Not from you! Not ever.”
“Hell, yes. You’re always bitchin’ about everything. Sick to death of it and so is the rest of the band.” He snarled and rolled his eyes. “You’re nothing special anyway.”
“Leave the band out of this!” Echoes pounded in her ears. Hate. Hate. Hate!
Johnny snarled. “I wish like hell you hadn’t been hired.”
“Trust me, the sentiment isn’t yours alone.” She adored the concept of being a part of the band but hated the arguments, the nastiness that had surfaced.
And she loathed the man standing in front of her. This was it. No more pain doled out like she was a Barbie doll, willing to break to his desires.
Johnny exhaled through clenched teeth and lunged forward, pinning her back against the wall. “You’re going to suck me off later and I don’t care if anyone watches, discovers just how slutty you really are.” Crushing her mouth, he drove his tongue inside, tasting her, instilling his command.
She wanted nothing more than a man to take control, to use her, drive her to the point of sheer ecstasy, to require her submission. She’d allowed Pitch to learn about her dark desires over a second bottle of wine on a lonely night after a bitter argument with her father. Then, he thought he owned her.
But Johnny wasn’t man enough. Still, she remained turned on and despised herself for it. She’d shut down before, cutting off all her emotions. She could do so again.
“That’s it. Do you want to come?” Johnny murmured as kept his face hovering over hers.
“Yes.” She spat out the word, defying him with her attitude. Just let it go and this will never happen again. Never. The little voice had been a constant reminder of her failures, her inability to accept the woman inside. This time, the nagging voice was right. She was finished with assholes.
“Yes?” He pulled out then pinched her clit, twisting.
“Oh!” The pain was harsh yet exquisite and she rocked up onto her tiptoes. “Yes, sir.” He didn’t notice the nasty tone, the flash of anger in her eyes. He was too much of a prick to think any woman could play her own game.
Another chuckle erupted from the base of his throat, the sound guttural, demanding. “I’m the only man who knows what you need.”
“Yes, sir.” As he resumed finger-fucking her, jamming his hand to the point of fisting her, he threw his head back and howled.
She hated his bravado, loathed his control over her. Dropping her head, she refused to come. Not this way and not with this man any longer.
Johnny seemed to sense her change in demeanor and snarled. He released her wrists and slapped his hand against the wall. “Such a fucking tease. That’s all you are. I should whip you right here.”
“Then do it!” Embracing her defiance, she used both hands to push him away and righted her skirt before folding her arms. You bet the stance was protective, even threatening. She shook her head and looked away, fearful his dark eyes would draw her back into his web. “Just get out of here. Find some starlet to suck and fuck. I have to finish getting ready.”
Johnny hesitated as if shocked about her response. After a short laugh, he stormed toward the door. “You’re going to regret this later. Trust me. Matter of fact. You’re going to lose everything you ever worked for and think you have.”
“Threatening me? Take a damn number, asshole.” She wanted to shut out the world.
“Uh-huh. I’m just giving you the truth. I have no idea why Tyler picked you. You weren’t the band’s choice. You’re a lousy singer.”
She jumped when he slammed the door behind him then slumped against the wall. “Asshole!” Why had she allowed herself to get involved with him? Huffing, she hated the fact her legs continued to tremble, but she made it to the small cooler, grabbing a bottle of water. The cold liquid did nothing to calm her nerves. This was no way to live her life. All she’d ever wanted to do was sing in a band, write music. Becoming a star had been the last thing on her mind yet here she was. Fame and fortune were knocking, calling her name.
And at what price?
She grabbed a bottle of aspirin, shaking so badly she almost dropped the few pills. After tossing them down, she wiped her mouth. She was going to get through tonight. Then she was going to have a chat with her manager. Tyler would know what to do. Maybe. Shit, she was no longer certain. She lived in a bubble.
The sound of her email receiving a message on her computer gave her a new set of worries. She never looked at her fan mail, not until after the concerts, keeping the entire site closed. The sound meant this was coming to her regular email address. The monster continued hunting, forcing her into a corner. She controlled her breathing before walking toward her laptop. The nightmare was real.
You will die…
The words burned in the back of her mind, every letter highlighted in red, the block letters almost appearing as if dripping blood. This wasn’t the first time an email of this nature had been sent, and she doubted the last. She stared at the ugly words, her mind racing at the possibilities of who and why. A fan? Why? She was approachable, mostly. Okay, so there had been a few caustic articles written by reporters she’d refused to give the time of day, but fans? She adored them.
You’re terrified of them.
She dropped her head, an entire string of perspiration slithering down the side of her face. What the hell was she doing?
“Shit!” She almost crushed the bottle of water as fear turned into terror.
The door opened, a face peeking in. “Jasmine. Five minutes.”
Not the boogeyman. Not the monster. Not… Whew, she was losing it.
“Sure. I’ll be there.” Jasmine glared at the computer screen then slapped the lid closed, her hand shaking. She wiped the sweat with the back of her hand, staring at her shaking and very white fingers. All the blood had been drained as the frigid chill washed through her system. There was no way of knowing if he was here. Her stalker. The man who’d made her life hell during the last few months.
Was this even a man? A woman could do this. Yes, she could have some lesbian longing to be by her side. Stop. Stop! This was getting out of hand.
“Jazz, are you okay?”
She peered at the member of her crew and for some reason couldn’t remember the girl’s name. She’d been rattled more often than not, and tonight was the worst since the recent tour had begun. This was the last stop for two weeks. She’d been planning on going home. As if Daddy gave a flying fuck. No, he’d no doubt have some business trip planned with his latest mistress. Perfect.
“Jazz?” the girl asked again, this time, her tone of voice clipped as if annoyed.
She’d been unable to concentrate, let alone prepare herself for the concert. Johnny’s appearance certainly hadn’t helped one damn bit. “I’m just fine! I’ll be there. Okay?” When the girl remained where she was standing, her anxiety shifted into high gear. “I said, I’d be there. Got it?”
Her eyes opening wide, the pink haired girl nodded then retreated, leaving the door open a crack.
Jasmine jerked up from the chair, taking long strides and slamming the door. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes. Did this asshole really want her dead? There was no way of telling but his methods of torture had increased over the last thirty days, following her to every concert, at least by email or by making certain she had special ‘gifts’ waiting for her arrival.
Today’s choice? A dozen purple roses. At least they weren’t black, the color of death. There’d been no note, no blood oath of undying love, but she knew who they were from. Bastard. As anger rushed into her system, she almost ran to where the roses had been placed on her table, swinging her arm and knocking them onto the floor. The crash, the shattering of glass made her smile.
Almost instantly the door was flung open. “Fuck! Honey, are you okay? What the hell?”
“I’m fine, Tyler. Just dandy as candy. Just leave me the fuck alone. I have to be on stage in three minutes.” There was no sense in snapping at her manager, but at this point, she was beyond frazzled. She was freaking over everyone asking is she was okay.
“Jesus. What did the flowers ever to do you?”
“They’re from him. Him!”
“Who?” Tyler walked further into the room, gazing down at the flowers. After crouching down, fingering the various petals, he tilted his head, gazing into her eyes. “The stalker? The man who wants you at all costs?”
“Yeah. Who the fuck do you think I mean?” Tyler could joke, but this was no laughing matter. She headed to her makeup table, making faces at her reflection. Think. Go to your happy place. She was a rock star. She was an important woman. She was Daddy’s girl. Rolling her eyes, she realized even her thoughts were off kilter.
“Look, we need to deal with this jerk once and for all.” Tyler picked up the unbroken base of the vase, tossing it in the trash and gave her a comforting smile.
She shot a look over her shoulder. Tyler Markum had found her, wooing her to try out for the already infamous rock band. Infamous indeed. The boys had been all over the place, including on the charts. The various stadiums hated them because of the destruction following them to every concert, but they were the darlings of the media.
However, the guys had needed a fresh sound and she was an instant hit. After that, Tyler had secured the recent record deal and through his contacts had made her famous. But the band had been shoved into the background. People Magazine, Billboard, Music News. She was on almost every cover. Even Vogue had requested a spread, because of her ‘excellent fashion sense’. What a crock.
She studied the leather skirt and sighed. This was everything she’d ever wanted. This was what fantasies were made of. “I know we do and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just…” Slapping her hand on the table, she groaned then grabbed her lipstick. “But the show must go on. Sold out?”
“Honey, your shows have been sold out for almost a year. You’re riding high. Don’t let the asshole get to you. We’ll deal with this. Okay? Promise. You have to learn to trust me.”
Trust. She didn’t understand the concept. “Sure. Coming right out. And after the concert, I need to talk about Johnny.”
“Johnny?” Tyler lifted a single eyebrow. “I warned you about getting involved.”
“We’re not involved. We’re just…” Fucking. Fucking. Shit, she was acting like a child.
He waited as if to see if she was going to issue any other mandates. “We can talk but you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
A voice of reason, Tyler liked to call himself. Whose side was he on? Act like a professional, not a prima donna. She applied the lipstick and watched as he left. His advice would be to deal with Johnny and suck up to the cameras. Hell, her manager no doubt loved the attention and the fights had put them smack in the news. However, Tyler had no idea how many nightmares she’d had or the number of shots of tequila simply to try and go to sleep. This shit had to stop. There was only one person who could actually find the fucker terrorizing her.
While she’d resisted asking her father for help, she was at her wit’s end. With Daddy’s connections, he could task the FBI to hunt the man down, incarcerate him for the rest of his life. Yes. If she wanted to take back control over her life, she needed to start with this. Johnny was next. A smile crossed her face. She had a plan. Let the hunted become the huntress.
Standing back, she gave a nod of approval. This was going to be a great show. She was an actress as well as an accomplished singer. This would be another fabulous night. Jazzed, she walked out of the dressing room and headed for the stage. She could hear the cheering from the audience. They were all ready for a kick ass show and she was going to give them what they’d paid for.
“Here we go. Right this way, Ms. Rush.”
Guided onto the stage, she waved at two of the band members and blew her lead guitarist a kiss. Originally, Johnny had been fun to play with and their occasional sexy trysts left practice as well as her sex life interesting, but she wanted more, and had for some time. Johnny, on the other hand, wanted to add phone numbers to his little black book and keep his little submissive on the side. She’d found him on more than one occasion sliding his tongue past some buxom, blonde fangirl’s ruby stained lips.
She could only imagine where else he’d placed his tongue.
No, she was finished with the bullshit, on several levels. Threats. A cheating boyfriend. A monster terrorizing her. Life was going to be different. One way or the other.
She took her position and waited, hand on the microphone. Her normal aerodynamic stunts were well known, but tonight they had mixed up the beginning, allowing the audience to get an up close and personal look.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage, Danger!”
The lights shot on, neon colors flanking the stage, crawling back and forth in a glistening shimmer. She kept her head down, her stance provocative and the moment the hard chord was struck, she purred into the microphone, loving the tingling racing down her spine, the way her heart thumped against her chest.
“Hello, Philadelphia!” Waving, she moved down what she called the catwalk, hunkering down as she began to sing, belting out the lyrics and touching various hands. This was a perfect night for introducing the new songs.
The band knocked the song out of the park and as Jasmine danced around, moving back and forth, sliding her body up and down Johnny’s, she fell into her routine.
“Are we rockin’ it tonight?” She called, placing her hand behind her ear.
The whistles and cat calls were rowdy as men and women clamored closer to the stage. When the first song ended, the audience erupted, clapping and screaming.
“We’re doing good, baby,” she whispered in Johnny’s ear. Might as well keep the asshole on his toes.
“And you’re going to taste good later,” Johnny said then woofed.
What the man would be tasting later was crow or worse. She was fueled at the thought. Taking control had its perks. Fuck the asshole who’d tried to ruin her night. She strutted past the edge of the stage, twisting and turning, concentrating on making eye contact. She crouched down, her ass just an inch above her platform thigh high boots. The crowd went wild, clamoring to get to the stage, their arms outstretched, their eyes beseeching.
“You will die…”
“Danger. Danger. Danger!” the crowd chanted.
Her heart thumped as she scanned the audience. Had she heard the words? Jerking into a standing position, she scanned the perimeter, but was blinded by the glare. Wait a minute. The lights were glaring, flashing all around her and she struggled to find the man with the intense eyes. Yes, she’d seen someone, and they’d locked eyes. She also knew in her gut what she heard, even above the booming drums and full volume amp. She managed to continue singing, but echoes sounded in her ears, thumping, hissing.
God damn it. There was clicking all around her.
She thought she caught sight of him again, but there was nothing. Fuck. She was imagining shit now. Perfect. Turning, she undulated her body, sliding her hand down her chest to just above her groin, fueling the crowd. Concentrate.
Turning slightly, she smiled and licked her lips.
Then she saw the flash, the single bright light and she knew.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
“The Governor is moving.” Cutter Thomas whispered into the microphone carefully tucked into his sleeve. Immediately moving into action, he waited until Governor Wallace walked out the door, heading in the direction of the exit. Trailing behind, his eyes roamed the hallway as they moved in a group. Charles Wallace was highly respected in certain circles, his authoritative stance and take no shit attitude winning him points among various conservative groups. For the majority of his constituents living in Virginia, he was a hated man.
Hence the need for the extra security and Cutter was the man everyone called, especially given his dangerous persona. He would fight to the death, gutting a perpetrator in seconds.
“Dinner was fabulous,” she purred as she gripped the governor’s arm, leaning against his shoulder.
“Just wait until we get home, my dear.” Charles kissed his wife’s cheek and patted her on the ass, as if giving her a reminder that he was the man in charge.
Cutter had no emotion, no care about the conversation or the detail. He only cared about the money and he was paid extremely well for his expertise. Serving time in the Marines including special Black Ops training, as well as his expert skills in weaponry and various martial arts afforded him anonymity as well as the ability to be selective. This was a well-paying gig.
“But I’m such a good girl,” the governor’s wife attempted to whisper, her sultry tone of voice echoing in the aging halls of the stone building. Both were intoxicated, increasing their voices and their provocative actions. Although there was no surprise because they were considered a kinky couple. Cutter’s extensive reports prior to accepting the position included art, vivid photography within the bowels of several BDSM clubs.
Some would say their proclivities were disgusting.
To Cutter, they were fascinating.
“One that needs a hard whipping,” Governor Wallace stated then shot a look from right to left, prepared to admonish anyone giving him attitude or a second look. Not a single person would defy the Governor or face termination.
While Cutter heard the banter, his only concern was the very real threat the man had received only a week prior. There had been no attempts made since leaving the mansion, but the opportunity was ripe on the cloudless night. Given the number of surrounding streets and major highways leading to this location, a perp could get in and out with ease. The Governor, in his opinion, was a fool as well as an asshole.
But he’d certainly never open his mouth.
The moment they neared the oversized glass doors, the two front guards held out their hands, forcing the Governor to wait.
Cutter stood behind them and from where he stood, he had a clear shot of the busy street, the area packed with restaurant and club patrons, enjoying a night on the town. Standing at six and a half feet tall, over two hundred thirty pounds of solid muscle, he would be a viable threat to any criminal element. He listened to the basic radio chatter, nothing indicating suspicious activity. Still, he remained on edge, ready to take on any would-be perpetrator. His reputation depended on his keen insight and quick responses.
The two bodyguards whisked them outside, flanking their sides as they eased into the armed SUV. He stood on the sidewalk, scanning, watching. Waiting. The second the doors were closed, a car careened around the block, heading straight for the Governor’s vehicle, the tires screeching. Reacting, he raced onto the street, pulling the pistol from his side holster and pointing it in the direction of the oncoming vehicle. “Get them out of here!”
The driver took off, veering around the parked car in front, barely avoiding hitting an oncoming truck head on but managed to race away.
From behind, Cutter heard screams, people rushing away from the area. The dark sedan swerved then skidded to a stop only inches away from Cutter, who hadn’t moved a muscle. He stormed toward the driver’s side door, flinging it open and yanking the driver onto the street. Slamming the possible threat against the car, he made certain the wide-eyed man had an up close and personal view of the barrel of his gun. Adrenaline rushing into every muscle, he picked the man up by his throat, digging his fingers into the asshole’s jugular.
“Let… me… down,” the man choked out, his body flailing, his eyes bulging.
Grunting, he could tell his actions were drawing a crowd. He dropped the man hard and blocked him in. The bastard wasn’t going to get away.
“What the hell is going on?” His voice shaking, the well-dressed man slouched down, his hands in the air. “And who do you think you are?”
Cutter said nothing as he frisked him, finding his wallet. After studying the contents, he took a step back. “You need to work on your driving skills.” He tossed the wallet and turned around without saying another word.
There’d been no threat to the Governor.
Darkness. Loneliness. I want a woman to surrender to my needs, my raging desire, no matter what or when I demand. Total obedience. I will own her, keep her, protect her.
The thought had nearly driven him insane for ten years. Dreams. Nightmares and reality. No one would accept the monster inside. No one knew what he was capable of.
Least of all, himself.
Fifteen minutes later, Cutter sat at the end of the bar, nursing an expensive glass of bourbon. The darkened space was perfect. No one paid any attention to the man dressed in all black. They didn’t give a shit if he was carrying a gun or could kill every one of them with his bare hands. They were here, in the shithole of an establishment to get drunk.
Snickering, he took another sip, closing his eyes as he savored the smooth liquor. He limited his alcohol as he did other aspects of his life, but this seemed like a damn good time to let down his guard. The sexual conversation between the Governor and his wife had created a need, one clawing at his outer exterior.
Tonight, he’d break his months of chastity and find a woman who could suit his savage hungers. After taking another gulp, he studied the rundown shit hole. While there were mostly men, blue collar workers fretting over the basketball game, the few women inside were agreeable enough.
One, in particular, had no business being in a joint like this. Her long legs and voluptuous body were stuffed inside a two size too tight crimson dress.
His favorite color.
She would do. He could tell she’d been drinking but still had her wits about her. She’d also arrived with friends and all were female. No nasty connections. No alley bar fights. Cutter polished off his drink and waved the bartender away. He simply sat on the barstool, watching her every move. The moment she walked toward the bathroom, giving him a sultry ‘come hither’ look as she passed by, he inhaled her perfume. The scent was exotic as well as expensive. At least she had good taste.
Cutter sucked on the ice cubes then slid the glass toward the far edge of the bar. As he rose to his feet, no one turned to look in his direction. No one tried to stop him. He took long and silent strides toward the back, finding the ladies’ room without issue. He walked inside and studied the small area. There was no lock on the scarred and dented door, but he wasn’t worried about discovery.
When she walked out of the stall, looking down at her dress as she tried to adjust the skin-tight material, he leaned against the dirty counter. This wasn’t about romance to any degree. This was about sex as well as discipline. He’d never been wrong about a woman in any capacity and the instant she tipped her head, her eyes shimmering in the dim light, he realized that once again, his choice had been on target.
“What are you doing in here?” She feigned annoyance as well as surprise, yet her hardened nipples gave her away.
“You know what I want,” Cutter stated without inflection.
She gave him a once over before moving closer, swaying her ample hips back and forth. “To fuck me?”
He nodded once before pointing to her dress. “Take it off.”
If she was curious as to why he didn’t bother asking her name, she didn’t show it, nor any other emotion. She simply shifted her gaze down to his crotch then shimmied her dress up and over her shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Standing in only a slender G-string, she cocked her hip and gave him another smile. “What do you want?”
Cutter scrutinized her body, admiring her small waist, the way her breasts remained firm. He took a step closer, allowing him to reach out and cup her breast, squeezing.
“Oh, my.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes as he pinched her nipple, twisting the tender tissue until she yelped with pain. “You like it rough. You’re a big man. Hope your cock is huge.”
He remained silent as he cupped her other breast, repeating the action. Seconds later, he slid the flat of his hand down her stomach then slipped a single finger under the thin elastic of her panties. A single twist then jerk of his hand and the ripping sound was like music to his ears.
“Jesus! Those were expensive.”
Exhaling, he gripped her wrist, tossing her toward the counter. Placing his hand against the small of her back, he pushed then kicked out her legs. “You will do as I say. Period.” The tone of his voice was husky, filled with lust and as she stared into the mirror, watching his every move, she nodded.
“Yes, sir. Fuck me,” she whispered and planted her hands on the mirror, her fingers flexed open wide.
Taking a single finger, he brushed the tip down the back of her neck and along her spine, the move slow and decisive.
She licked her lips and arched her back. “That feels so good.”
His eyes never leaving her face, he dragged his finger down to the crack of her ass, rubbing up and down. The scent of her sex was powerful, and his cock was throbbing, pushing against his crotch. He dropped his head, sucking on her shoulder as he wiggled his fingers between the crack of her ass.
“Oh, yes. I love being fucked in the ass.”
Cutter opened his mouth, moving his lips across her back then biting down on her other shoulder. Sliding the tip of his finger just inside her dark hole, he could feel his blood pressure increasing, his adrenaline flowing.
She sagged forward until her face was pressed against the glass. “You are one hot man.”
Easing back, he glanced into the mirror, studying her look of sheer ecstasy. “With pleasure comes pain.”
“Oh, God!” Her body jerking, she dug her fingers against the glass, her moan echoing.
The slight sting on his hand was a damn powerful aphrodisiac and he was exhilarated.
How long had it been since he’d disciplined a woman? How long since he’d been fully in charge? Too long.
“Jesus. You’re strong,” she whispered, her mouth twisting.
“All women need punishment,” he stated and was unsure why he’d bothered. She didn’t need to know nor was she interested in his thoughts.
Only his cock.
“Yes, oh, yes,” she whimpered. “Spank me, Daddy. I’m such a bad girl.”
The harder he whipped her, the more she seemed to respond, undulating and moaning, her mouth going slack.
Pop! Crack! Slap!
Her skin was reddening, the shade like a perfect apple and he was more invigorated than he’d been in months. His balls were in anguish, pinched due to his intense need.
“Oh…” She closed her eyes. “So fuckin’ hot.”
After issuing several additional smacks, he rubbed both hands through his hair then pulled a condom from his wallet, the one he kept in reserve. She didn’t move, didn’t try and fight him as he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants. When the condom was secure, he gripped her hips and yanked, pulling her back.
She was panting, her chest heaving, and she kept her eyes open as he positioned the tip of his cock at her cunt. “Yes. God, yes.”
Cutter thrust the entire length of his dick inside her pussy, holding his breath as his cock throbbed, swelling and filling her. Sweat beaded along the back of his neck and he pulled out, slamming into her again. And again.
Moaning, she jutted her hips back, meeting every savage thrust, her mouth drooping, her eyelids lazy. “Damn. Fucking huge.”
He moaned and continued fucking her until his shaft was coated with her juice. Pulling out, he gave her a commanding look before shoving his cockhead into her asshole.
“Fuck!” Slapping the glass, she rose onto her tiptoes, the pain evident by her flushed face.
He was shaking, every muscle tense as the desire swept through him. Unable to hold back, he thrust the rest of his cock inside, holding back a roar as the feel of her heat, the way her muscles constricted around him was almost perfect. He’d waited far too long.
“Yes. Fuck me! Harder!” She wiggled as he drove in and out, the force pushing her stomach against the cheap plastic counter.
Cutter moved into a perfect rhythm, shoving every inch of his cock deep inside. He was on fire, current jetting through his blood, every cell and he wanted to be brutal. He needed to be the savage lurking deep inside.
And so, he continued fucking her.
She kept her position, her body shaking as he drove in deeper. Faster.
He could no longer hear anything but echoes in his ears, the pumping of his racing heart. As the climax rushed up from his tense legs, pushing into his groin, he threw his head back and allowed a single moan.
When he was finished, he pulled away, now disgusted with his actions. He removed the condom, tossing it into the trash can and washed his hands, every action methodical.
She wiped her mouth and reached for her dress, a smile remaining. “You want to do this again sometime?”
After reaching for a paper towel and taking his time drying his hands, he addressed her question. “You were satisfying, but we will never see each other again nor will you attempt to contact me. Do you understand?” He anticipated anger, even rage. When she blinked several times then nodded, he touched her face, rubbing his thumb across her mouth, gathering her scarlet lipstick.
The only gentle touch he knew or gave a shit about. After all, he wasn’t a man any woman would ever get close to. If she did, she could die.