Page 10
Story: Feral Beauty
“Good, then. Your hand, please,” she ordered, and he grudgingly complied. Once she’d made a thin slice across his skin, she pressed her smaller, blood-coated palm into his. “For the duration of your debt, do you swear to give me your complete submission, obeying me in all ways?”
His gut clenched. He’d not allowed anyone to have this much control over him since… He swallowed the thought, shoving down memories of his youth. “I swear it.”
Bells chimed in the distance, and her lips curled. “Midnight,” she purred in a way that made his ears twitch.
Warmth unfurled in his nether regions, and his cock responded. While part of him had been dreading this moment, the other part fantasized about his time with the curvy sexpot. Especially at night when he was alone in his bed with nothing but his fist for company.
Dove hopped out of her seat, flitted across the Oriental rug, and flounced down beside Armond. There, the two of them sat, watching their mistress like they were at the movies. Waiting to see what she would do next.
Liam was curious as well.
For the first time since he’d walked into Vivian’s home, he allowed himself to take her in. His lids went heavy, and his eyeballs set sail on a three-hour tour, traveling her body. Damn, but they didn’t make them like this anymore. Women these days were too lean and muscular to suit his tastes. Bunch of twigs doing yoga and eating kale. Vivian Laurent was more of a steak and potatoes gal. Every male’s pinup fantasy come to life. He could tell she’d taken some care, getting ready for his arrival tonight. Even he knew females didn’t lounge on their sofas dressed to the nines.
He wanted to wrinkle her dress. Smudge her crimson lipstick. Put some fuck curls into her glossy black hair.
First, he’d screw her hard and fast against the wall to take the edge off. Second, he’d bend her over the bed. Next, if she was still conscious, maybe he’d give it to her slow-like.
Vivian met his heated gaze, exhaled a breath, and shuddered as though she’d read every dirty thought in his mind. Instead of succumbing to the obvious lust she felt for him, she managed to compose herself, getting all starched and bossy.
“Before we delve into the details of what I will require of you, there are several things we must get out of the way.” She stepped back, commanding, “Remove your shirt.”
He flicked a glance toward Dove and Armond. Dove, the little twit, wiggled her eyebrows at him, a big grin filling her face while Armond pressed his lips together like he was fighting laughter. Asswipe.
“Uh…” Liam cleared his throat. “You want to do this here?”
“Yes, here.” Vivian squared her shoulders.
He frowned. No way she’d want him to screw her in front of an audience. The female was toying with him. Two could play that game. With one hand, he slowly drew up the hem of his thermal, giving her a shot of his abs. Experience taught him the ladies were into that sort of thing.
“You want me to strip, maybe you could give me some pointers first. After all, you’re the pro here.”
Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed. Despite his flirting, she grew even more frigid, her spine going rigid. “Since we’re still getting reacquainted with each other, I’ll allow your disrespect this once. However, in the future, you will obey me. That is unless you’re touched in the head and can’t comprehend my instructions?” Dove snickered in the background, and Vivian went on. “From what I understand, an assassin attacked you at Howlers, nearly ending your life. Then, before you’d fully recovered, you suffered a mysterious head injury.”
“I’m over all that.” He wasn’t even dizzy anymore.
A short time ago, he’d gotten tangled up with a religious zealot named Zion. When Liam refused to peddle his drug, black ice, the bastard had sent a couple of assassins to make an example of him. Liam had taken all but two of the bullets they’d fired as he shielded his former Chosen. Fuckwads tore him up bad enough that he was out of commission for weeks. Then, before Liam had even gotten back on his feet, he caught wind that Alex and Jericho had been captured by one of Zion’s henchwomen. When he tracked them down, Sunshine wasn’t herself. In her confusion, she used her new powers against him and nearly cracked open his melon.
When Vivian called Howlers looking for him, Gavin—the loose-lipped bastard—blabbed. It didn’t take much for her to track him down at Claymore’s medical facility. She’d even gone so far as to pay him a visit there. He hated that she’d seen him laid low that way.
“I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Still, I’d like to see for myself that you’re…up for the job.”
He drew back his shoulders, swallowing a sharp comment. Damn right he was up for the job. By the time he was done with Vivian, she wouldn’t walk straight for a week.
Centuries ago, during his days as a sell-sword, he’d been known to strut around butt-naked in front of an entire legion of warriors. Heck, during one battle, the enemy attacked them in the middle of the night. He’d fought that one without a stitch of clothing. Still, stripping for Vivian and her entourage was nothing like that and weird as hell.
“You’re the boss,” he said, hiding his discomfort. Without hesitating, he grabbed the material on his shoulders and pulled his thermal over his head.
Dove’s gasp sounded in his ears, and he resisted the urge to snap a rude comment at the girl. He didn’t have the flawless body of a sheltered aristocrat if that’s what she was expecting. Evidence of the life he’d lived was etched deep into his flesh. Bullet wounds and lacerations that almost spilled his guts on the ground. Between the scars and the tattoos, there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t marked in some way. Except for the scars on his wrist, none of it shamed him. His scars were proof he’d fought and survived.
Vivian tapped a manicured nail against her chin, circling him like he was some prized stallion she’d added to her stable. He stared straight ahead, refusing to meet any of their eyes.
Before he registered her intent, she pressed her hand to one of the most recent gunshot wounds on his chest. He sucked in a breath, his pectoral twitching beneath the gentle heat of her palm.
“This is the one that almost ended you. The one by your heart,” she said softly.
He couldn’t resist checking her reaction. When he did, he wished he hadn’t. In her eyes, he found something surprising, something soft and feminine.
Tender emotions that he didn’t need nor want from her.
Table of Contents
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- Page 10 (Reading here)
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