Page 45

CHAPTER 43

SLOANE

I ’d never felt like this, so alive, so changed…

So free.

And suddenly, I was starving. Not for food.

But for him.

“Logan,” I murmured, getting up from my seat.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked.

“You.”

It was taking him too long to understand, so I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. Once inside, I let him go and slid my leggings and thong down my hips and legs before kicking them away.

He stared at me, hunger growing in his gorgeous green eyes.

“We don’t have to do this. And your back…” he protested feebly.

“I know we don’t have to do this. I want to. And my back is why I’m going to be riding that big cock.”

“I mean, when you put it like that…” he growled, finally stalking toward me and grabbing me by my waist. He pressed a bruising kiss to my lips, and I could feel it. All the fucking relief that it was over now. Everett was still out there…no doubt a lot richer?—

“I can’t believe that just happened. Fifteen million,” I said in between breathless kisses.

“It wasn’t enough,” he insisted as he undid his jeans with one hand and pulled out his enormous dick…the red outline of my lips stark against the pale skin. “There’s no amount of money that would ever be enough.”

He sat back on the bed, pulling at my legs as I moved into position over his jutting cock. I teased him for a second, sliding my wet folds across his tip.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Tell me you want me,” I purred. I felt like a different person. Like I was more.

Like I could do anything.

“Yes, fuck. I want you,” he begged.

His hips thrust up, and I shook my head. “Now, that’s not being a good boy. I’m in charge right now.”

He smirked and stopped moving. “Yes, ma’am.”

I grabbed his length and lowered myself back into position, rubbing up and down his shaft, pressing against my clit with every stroke.

“Please, baby,” he breathed desperately, his gaze trained on the sight of me moving against him.

My clit was throbbing from the perfect friction, and I was so turned on, I forgot that I was supposed to be playing with him. I gasped and then…

He surged inside me—only halfway, but enough to make me cry out from the fullness.

“That’s my good girl,” he said wickedly, grabbing my hips and thrusting in all the way.

We both groaned at the sensation, and I fell against his chest, trying to get ahold of myself.

“Fuck me, Red. Use my cock,” he hissed, his fingers digging into my hips.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered to him, and he groaned as I began to ease up and down, trying not to die of pleasure with how good it felt as his thick cock stretched me just right.

I was soaking wet, and even with the tight fit, I glided up and down easily. His thighs were coated with my wetness, his desperate moan had me rocking up and down faster, wanting to give us both what we wanted.

Grabbing his shoulders, I leaned forward, trying to ride him harder. My clit rubbed against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and I moaned with how good it felt.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted as I clenched around him. Logan tore at my shirt, pulling it up so my breasts were bare to him.

I winced for a second as my shirt brushed against my damaged back, but we were both too far gone for that to stop us.

His hips and thighs flexed, pumping into me as I moved. He bent over and latched onto my nipple, sucking it hard before he bit down gently.

“Fuck,” I panted as my orgasm crashed over me. He sucked my nipple again, and my entire body convulsed, squeezing his dick as I tried to survive the pleasure.

“Yes,” he growled as his mouth released my breast, his head falling back as his cock jerked inside me, his hot cum filling me up. I shuddered as I came down from the orgasm, my forehead falling to the crook of his neck as I tried to get my breath back.

We stayed like that for several long moments until I finally got my wits back enough to lift my head.

“Don’t ever handcuff me again…unless I ask you to,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his mouth.

His dick jerked again.

Logan grinned, his green eyes gleaming, a piece of his hair falling across his forehead. “Absolutely no promises, Red.”

* * *

LOGAN

The notification lit up my phone just as I was finishing my second cup of chai tea—props to Lancaster for introducing me to it. This stuff was the shit.

I unlocked my phone and saw the email from the PI. The subject line read simply: Everett.

There was a link below his name, and I clicked on it, my pulse picking up speed as the screen filled with a series of documents, photos, and emails. There were client lists—high-profile names—and payment records tied to the escort service Everett ran under the guise of a “consulting firm.” But it didn’t stop there. Hidden deeper in the files were records of a trafficking ring, complete with photos of women and girls who had been coerced, manipulated, or outright taken from their lives to serve his “business interests.”

My stomach churned as I clicked through image after image. Financial statements showed large payments funneled through shell companies, and email chains painted a picture of Everett as the cold, calculating architect behind the operation. He didn’t just run it—he thrived on it. The names of some of his clients popped up in my head like a taunt. Politicians. Executives.

One particular email stopped me cold. It was from Everett himself, instructing someone to “prepare” a new recruit. My blood boiled when I saw the language he used—clinical, detached, as if these were products, not people. Make sure she’s docile. No mistakes this time.

I gripped the edge of the table, fighting the urge to throw my phone across the room. He wasn’t just a monster. He was the devil in a tailored suit.

Before I could fully process it, my phone buzzed again.

Lincoln: Everything you need to bury him. Use the server I gave you to send it as an anonymous tip so you don’t get caught up in it. The PI removed you and Sloane’s names from the docs. Don’t screw this up.

Me: How the fuck do you always have this stuff ready to go so fast?

His response came almost immediately.

Lincoln: It’s a Circle of Trust thing.

I snorted.

Me: So it does exist.

Lincoln: …

Sliding over to my laptop, I pulled up the secure server Lincoln had set up for me. Uploading the files felt both satisfying and sickening. Every document, every photo painted an unmistakable picture of Everett’s guilt, but the faces of those women, their hollow eyes staring back at me in the photographs, made my chest tighten.

With one final click, the files were sent.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the confirmation message on the screen. The weight in my chest eased just slightly. The tip had gone through, hopefully anonymous and untraceable, and it was only a matter of time before the fallout began.

Everett was going to lose everything.