Page 21

Quinn

Silver threw me a lifeline—a chance to have my old life back with Dad. Now I have to make sure I pay him back. I have my jacket on in the stage house I’ve been living at for the past few days, waiting for him to pack up the last of his supplies.

A part of me thinks he’s stalling because he believes this is his last taste of freedom. Actually, I have no idea what that man is thinking.

“Why are you doing this for me?” I ask against my better judgement.

He takes his time zipping up the duffle bag before walking up to me in his pristine grey suit. His red tie screams murder, tie-clip neat and shining, and his perfect mesh of beard and hair are right out of a GQ magazine.

He stands close to me and quietly says, “I’ve… grown obsessed with you, since I saw you peek out that window of yours.”

My entire body swoons, leaving a shell standing there. How could I be so lucky to have a guardian angel like him?

“Like some sick version of Rapunzel,” I scoff, recalling my earlier thought of it.

He laughs at that.

It’s nice to hear that rare sound.

“Too bad.”

“What’s too bad, Silver?”

“We’re worlds apart. I orbit the underworld, and you the authorities that enslave it. I’m of a different time… yours is just beginning.”

I grab his muscular obliques. “I don’t care. I want to be with you.”

“And do what? We’ll fall apart after this whirlwind of a honeymoon.”

My brow furrows. That one hurt like a punch to the gut, but I recover quickly. “Try me! We can talk about anything . Don’t you see our chemistry? We can have fun doing the dumbest things. ”

“We’re generations apart. I’ve already lived your years,” he says, mentally striking me again.

“Then why are you so drawn to living them again, with me?”

“Mmph.” He takes my hands so I stop wrinkling his suit.

“What movie sets are you working on?” I try, even knowing it’s probably some older style movie I probably would want nothing to do with.

“Right now? Some stupid soap opera called Chilling Desires .”

“ What? ”

“What?” He leans back. “God, don’t tell me you like that crap.”

“Like it? I’m obsessed . Why didn’t you say anything? That’s all I watch while I’m plugging away at spreadsheets. The over-the-top murder mysteries. Did you see the one where the chef killed the billionaire’s wife with two toothpicks?”

Silver sighs, rubbing his temples. “I was there for it. The scene was shot in the fifth stage house.”

My eyes bulge. “That’s the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

I’m not going to lie, I’m fan-girling a bit. Seriously though, I’ve been watching that show since I was a teenager.

“We’re definitely not going to work out,” he jokes, and I can’t help but laugh.

“How about the one where Ernie buried his best friend’s face in the turkey, which was stuffed with a cleaver? That was such a shocker!”

“In fact, I think I’m ending this little fling right now,” he continues to joke.

“Ha. Ha. Hilarious.” I grab his suit when he tries to turn away from me. His shadow of a smirk is starting to take shape. “Promise you’ll take me on set. Please .”

“Mm,” he growls.

“I don’t know what ‘mm’ means.” I deepen my voice to try and match his. “I want to hear the words. Say it with me. ‘Yes, kid, I’ll take you on whatever set you’d like.’”

“Is that voice supposed to be mine?” He tries not to laugh.

“Stop changing the subject.” I tap his face lightly.

“Fine. If we somehow get out of this unscathed—I’ll take you.”

“ Eeee! ” I squeal.

“I don’t like this side of you,” he says.

“Well get used to it, bucko. There’s fire and ice, and when it comes to Chilling Desires ? A giddy school girl.”

“Mm,” he replies, not sure if he’s horny or annoyed. “Alright, time to get this over with.”

I turn to stuff my feet into my boots with a big smile on my face. We have a date after all this madness is over. No more killing Russians. No more fearing for my life—

Zzzzp!

As soon as I hear the tape unfold, it’s around my mouth.

“ Mmm! ” I try to say, peering over my shoulder to see piercing green eyes boring down on me. Before I can complain again, his finger claws over my clit, and my tense body relaxes.

I was right, he’s horny.

Sick, sadistic, horny.

He did say this is our honeymoon, so whatever, I’m game.

“ You want it? ” he whispers in my ear, his voice making my hair stand.

I want it raw. I’ve wanted it for a while now, but regardless, that’s not how this game goes.

Shaking my head desperately no to fuel the roleplaying, he removes his finger, leaving an aching puddle pooling into my leggings.

“Then down in the cellar for you,” he threatens, and I shove my ass into his throbbing cock.

He’s already rock hard. I love that about his suit pants—you can’t hide anything in there, let alone his huge rod.

He growls lowly, trying to hide how bad he wants it, then pulls my hair, causing my head to whip back. I moan through the tape as his nose comes an inch from my neck. He takes in my scent, his eyes closing like some wolf playing with prey.

The idea makes my slit scream for him.

“Are you frightened?” he purrs, licking my neck.

I nod feverishly as he holds my wrists with one hand. I grab for his cock to tell him this is all just an act, but he stops me before I can get there.

He digs his hand beneath the leggings—ass-first—scratching my skin as he claws for what he’s looking for.

His pinky hovers over my second hole, giving me tremors I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.

It’s naughty and wrong, like our entire arrangement, and I’m interested.

He can tape me up like a freakin’ mummy for all I care.

When his index finger dips into my slit, I want to cry from the amount of pleasure.

“I thought you didn’t want it?” He rips his hand out of my pants and licks his finger.

He waits a moment for me to respond, staring into my pleading eyes.

“Then what’s all this? Are you lying to yourself? ”

I moan, knees going weak. Feeling helpless in his grasp is my new fantasy. Who would’ve thought this is what I needed in my life?

He spins me so we’re facing one another, holding my wrists high overhead. “You weren’t trying to escape on me, were you?”

I shake my head, pretending to be scared.

“Good girl. Otherwise, I’d have to spank you.”

This is getting all sorts of sick, and I’m here for it.

“What’s that? You were trying to run?” He tilts his head and grabs me by the hair, and when he does, my hand is free, so I lunge to grab his cock.

“Bad, bad girl .” He grabs me and brings me over to a kitchen chair—big windows wide open, facing into a snowy forest of trees. If we get interrupted this time, I give up.

My vision swims as he flips me over his lap and rips down my leggings. Heat claws up my throat like sharp nails. My ass is exposed to the air, and there’s nothing I want to do but grab onto the chair legs and brace.

Do I like pain?

Slap!

My ass jiggles, I moan, and he grunts.

I do like pain. Just a little.

Slap!

He looks at me to make sure I’m okay, to make sure I’m in this fantasy with him. I am. A wink his way tells him I’m all about it, so he resumes.

Two more slaps and my ass is bright red, and when he stuffs two fingers inside my slit, I’m in a heaven of pleasure.

The tingling all over my skin from the slap, plus the undeniable pulsing of an incoming orgasm is something I didn’t know should be combined.

He’s a blender of sexual energy. A master. And I’m his little plaything.

He throws off my one boot, my socks, and whips my leggings down the rest of the way to two bare legs riddled with marks. I don’t care about any of it. I want more.

I pull myself up to straddle him until he lifts me onto the kitchen table.

He rips the tape off my mouth and presses his lips on mine.

The taste of plastic is his doing, but he doesn’t seem to care.

His tongue is down my throat. I hear the belt buckle clacking as he races to unleash what I’ve been waiting for.

I grab it and start jerking it, wondering why it feels extra-long in my grip. The girth alone is something to salivate over, and the length is just the cherry on top, framed by perfect V lines that shouldn’t be legal at his age.

He growls and looks over to his duffle bag—probably for a condom—so I grab his tie and don’t let go.

“ You say you’re obsessed with me, ” I whisper seductively. “ Prove it .”

I tease his cock near my slit, and dare him to resist the amount of wetness.

He growls and grabs my neck, his lips inches from mine. “You don’t call the shots.” He clenches for a fraction of a second, showing me he could snap me like a twig if he wanted.

But he would never.

I don’t bend to his threats, teasing the head even closer to my slit.

“I’m helpless,” I pretend. “Whatever am I going to do?”

He narrows his eyes at me with that grin I long for, then licks my neck again. It’s too much sensation.

“ Stick it in, Silver, ” the devil in me comes out. “ I dare you. ”

He bares his perfect teeth at me, then goes back to kiss the other side of my neck. He pulls my shirt down just past the nipples and twists them lightly before grabbing a handful.

“ Mmph. ”

My eyes widen when he caves. Or rather, he’s in my cave.

His cock stretches my walls in a way that feels so natural without the friction a rubber brings, sullying it. The way he commands everything about the situation is intoxicating. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, and his huge hands around my beaten ass just adds to the pleasure.

“I’m your toy,” I say as he lifts me up and down—cock sliding with just the perfect amount of resistance.

“You’re more than that, Quinn.”

The words sober me into something real as he gently lies me over the table. My legs are up, feet near his ears, and his cock looks amazing from this angle. Only the head is in— mmph! Now the whole thing.

“Much more,” he says, pumping me gingerly while his thumb teases my clit.

Not long ago, I thought I’d hate this declaration… but now? I’m shivering even more, like he broke past my armor and cracked all the way to my heart.

“Silver,” I moan his name, not knowing what else to say.

My vision shakes as he pumps into me. Looking at him makes me weak to the point I might pass out, so I glance all around the kitchen, the cabinets shaking as I’m filled with pleasure.

I scratch at the finished wood my back slides on, and grasp at the edge I’m closest to in order to brace. He can hit me harder this way.

And he does.

Doubling down on my clit, he knows an orgasm is moments away. He holds one of my ankles and repositions my leg for a deeper pump. I love being filled by him. It’s warm and sexy and right . He’s raw. I beat him at his own game.

I toppled the silver fucking fox.

“ Fuck me, baby. Fill me up. ” As I say the words, heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m embarrassed at myself.

Then my whole pelvis pulses, my legs shake. I forget my name for the eternal moment of his pumping cock amplifying my orgasm.

He pulls out near the end of my orgasm and hits me with flying clear ropes that splash my breasts and streak my chin. I stick out my tongue because it’s the right thing to do, but I only catch one of many streaks.

Should I be flattered, or offended, or what?

Once we both exhale after the best orgasms in the world, after I relearn how to breathe, I say it.

“Did you just brand me?”

He slams both fists on the kitchen table in relief, catching his own breath. When he looks at me with his jizz all over my body, he can’t help but cackle. “It’s called a compromise. Get used to it.”