Boss: Complete Box Set: A Mob BDSM Romance (14 page)

I
straighten
in my chair as my shirt rubs uncomfortably against the healing welts on my back. They are mostly gone, save for a few that were deeper than the rest. I’ve stayed locked away in my office for the past two days, skipping meetings and basically hiding from the rest of the staff.

No one has bothered me and I’m not sure if that’s Brent’s doing or my own. My vibe is set on “serial killer,” and I’m sure everyone is picking up on it.

I despise falling into Brent’s trap, but I can’t stay away. It’s a vicious circle but the thing is, I’m not completely willing to let it end. This love-hate relationship I have with him is more lust-crave-need than anything else. Yet I’m drawn to the secrets he’s keeping and the peeks of the man he lets show now and then. I’ve known there is something deeper and richer to his personality than what he lets on for a while now. And I can’t stop myself from trying to pry it out of him bit by bit.

He’s hooked me on his shadows, and the way he plays my body and feeds my dormant longing for kinky, lustful things.

I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes. I’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for two hours. The accounting numbers I’ve been filing through since yesterday are tripping me up. Something is off and I can’t figure out what.

I’ve been combing through past records, reconciling and adding, and piecing the numbers together. The more I look, the more off everything is, but I can’t figure out the root of it.

Just then a message pops up on my laptop. It takes me a second to recognize the little app as it blinks on the corner of my screen. It’s the interoffice email system and no one uses it much since we’re all connected on Gmail or simply text each other when something comes up.

The return address is Brent’s.

He’s never contacted me this way before. Curious, I lean forward to get a better look at the message.

Meet me in our hotel room. Immediately.

Our hotel room? I delete the message before grabbing my cell phone to see if he’s also texted me. There’s nothing. Our hotel room . . . it has a nice ring to it, as if Brent and I really do have something special enough between us to warrant a secret rendezvous spot. He’s asking for this in the middle of the work day, at a place we shared a hell of a lot of pleasure.

I smile with an uptick of hope.

Maybe he wants to smooth over how we left things the other night. Rather, how he left them by walking away without taking care of me. I’ve been mulling over whether or not to apologize for digging about Liz, but I’ve decided against it. He taunted me with his past lovers. He left himself open to questioning and it’s not my fault he didn’t like it.

Apparently, Brent never learned how to play well in the sandbox.

If he wants to woo me to make up for acting like a hothead, than I owe it to myself to see what he has in mind.

Closing my laptop, I leave my office, slip through the hallways toward the casino, and veer off toward the elevators. I don’t notice much in my haste to get to the room, but as I get off the elevator and reach my destination, I realize how quiet it is, how still.

It gives me a sense of peace as I check the door handle and find it unlocked. Peeking my head in, I call, “Hello?” but there’s no answer.

A little nervous, but excited about what Brent has in mind, I find the rooms softly lit as I stroll through them, looking for Brent. I leave the bedroom for last, not finding him there either. But he’s been here.

He’s left me a gift.

I tuck my hair behind my ear as I wander to the bed and trace my fingers over the lacy bra and panties he’s laid out. A pink satin blindfold sits next to the bra. There’s no note giving me instructions but I know what to do. My nipples perk at the thought of waiting for him on this huge bed, blindfolded. Sensory deprivation really is a wonderful thing when you know something pleasurable and fabulous is on the other side.

Using the restroom to freshen up, I slip into the bra and panties and brush my hair until it’s falling in a soft curtain around my shoulders. There’s scented lotion and other toiletries all laid out for my choosing. After a few minutes of primping, I go back to the bed, lie in the middle and slip on the blindfold.

And wait.

I spend a lot of time waiting on this man, yet I’m always eager to do so. I need an expensive therapist—I know this, but it doesn’t diminish the high I get from knowing Brent’s hands are going to be on me soon. More than that, I just want to be near him. He does something to me, soothes me, enflames me, stimulates me. He makes me feel . . . alive. Even if he doesn’t always make me feel wanted in the way I secretly crave.

A light knock sounds from the door and my heart soars. The bedroom door clicks open and footfalls cross the carpeted floor.

I can’t hold back my grin or how my back arches a little in anticipation of his touch. A shade of warmth falls over my bare skin and I inhale deeply, relaxing into expectation—

And get a whiff of garlic.

I frown as the scent assaults my nose. Suddenly, painful goosebumps alight all over my body. I move to push myself up, but fingers pressed to the center of my chest stops me. A sob lodges in my throat as I get a stronger whiff of the repugnant odor . . . and I know. I know who’s touching me.

Stubby, calloused fingers trail to the valley between my breasts.

“Hello, Erica.”

“Brent’s not he-here.” I try and steady my voice, but repulsion and bile are welling up in me so thick, they threaten to choke me. This can’t be happening!

Georgios snorts and I cower on impulse. “I’m not here for him.”

Oh, God. So this is my punishment then, for being too jealous and asking too many questions? I remember what Brent said about his past submissive liking to be shared—how he got himself off while other men fucked her. Is this what he’s doing to me?

It’s too far. It’s gone much too far.

I take a shaky breath and clamp my jaw. Georgios’s fingers trail over my left breast before he cups it hard in his palm. I jerk away but he grabs the strap and yanks me in place. The fabric pulls away from my breasts as he probably peeks down at them, and then the cups fall back into place.

I’m going to vomit. He’s going to rape me. My heart can’t accept that Brent would do this to me, but the constant nagging doubt in my mind wants me to believe otherwise.

Remembering that he’d spoken, I scramble to reply. Maybe I can keep him talking long enough to give me a chance to get away.

“Then why are you doing here?” I force myself to lie still even as his hands wander over my belly. I can’t enrage him if I’m going to have any chance in hell of getting away from him.

He makes an appreciative sound and I gag.

“I went fishing is all. And look what I caught.” His thumb hooks the band of the panties and starts to lower them. Suddenly, I feel his big body hovering over me from the side of the bed. His garlicy breath assaults my senses and my hands come up to push him away. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m dizzy, and the flight instinct is pushing me to panic.

I have to get away!

He grabs my wrists in one hand as his other keeps working my panties.

“It pleases me that he’s taken to you, Erica. I thought you were just the pawn, but it seems he’s made you his Queen. This is very useful for me. By the way, did you like the flowers I left on Nathalie’s grave?”

I scream then, wrenching to the side enough that he loses his grip on me. I’m almost able to push myself off the bed, but he grabs the side of my panties and pulls me onto my back. The fabric tears, his hand quickly resuming its earlier position.

“I’ve waited a long time for this.”

“No!” I scream, pushing against him again, harder this time.

The door slams against the wall and Georgios moves away from the bed. I bolt upright and slip the blindfold off. Brent has Georgios by the arm and twists it behind the bigger man’s back. They struggle, but Brent maintains his hold. His face is red with rage, the veins on the side of his neck bulging. I’ve never seen so much anger and hate in him before. This is primal, murderous.

Barely holding my emotions together, I press myself against the pillows as Brent pushes Georgios out of the room. They start shouting at each other, but my head is ringing too loudly for me to comprehend what they’re saying.

I can’t believe that man’s hands were on me.

And I’m so relieved that Brent wasn’t behind this as a setup of some sort.

I want to curl up onto my side and just lie there, but if I do, I’ll cry and I don’t want to lose it right now. I thought I trusted Brent, until it was put to the test and I realized that I still have doubts.

Except that deep inside, I do trust him. My heart was right in knowing he’d never set me up this way. I gave him my body for pain and pleasure because I trusted him to do it in a way we’d both enjoy. I’d come here today to allow him to make it up to me. Instead, I came face to face with my repeated inability to trust.

“I want the fucking head of security fired! I’ll be over there in an hour.” Brent’s hard voice precedes him into the room and he throws his phone onto a chair next to the door as he finishes speaking into it. His eyes lock with mine across the space and his expression changes, softens. The worried look in his eyes, the flicker of grief that washes over his features, grab my heart.

He strides to me, never breaking eye contact. It dawns on me then that I’m not lying on the bed with the blindfold on as he’d wanted. Thinking about pleasing him eases the horror of what almost happened. Shaking, I move to pull the blindfold down, but he reaches me first.

Brent cups my face in his hands, his eyes so soft and full of anguish and flame that my tears fall. He sweeps my trembling lips with his thumb and kisses me softly, my name falling from his mouth and I lose it.

Sobs rack my body as he gathers me against his chest and strokes my hair.

And holds me.

I
need
him to want me, to
need me
. The way I need him.

For the first time in my adult life, I want to be cherished. It’s more than a girlish fantasy. It’s a basic human need to feel important, and as Brent wipes my tears with his hands, and murmurs softly that I’m safe, I feel it.

I feel like he really cares about me. And it makes me cry again.

He lays me back and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. I taste the salt of my tears on his mouth. I turn my head to align our lips better so I can get more. His tongue dives deep into my mouth and the tremors of fear Georgios left behind go away.

The kiss quickly turns frantic. Brent feasts on me like he can’t get enough, alternating hard, demanding kisses with soft, tentative ones. He caresses me, gently exploring the lines of my ribs and hips and down my thighs as far as he can reach. Our chests press together and he captures my face in his hands again, and that’s when I realize.

He’s apologizing with his body . . . the only way he knows how.

Desire builds in me, but it’s not the hot, flaming lust that I usually experience with him. This is quieter and slower to come to its peak, as if my mind and body are taking their sweet time. Enjoying this, reveling in the tender way he’s making love to me.

My eyes fly open and I catch his gaze. Brent pulls back just enough to look down at me. He tucks hair behind my ear and gives me a quizzical look.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s making love to me. This soft, sweetness isn’t our usual dom play. It’s not even our basic rough sex. It’s different and I’m not sure how to react to this new dynamic. I don’t answer and he seems to forget he asked, as he pulls away the scrap of my ruined panties. The fabric digs into my skin before it tears, leaving a pleasant burning sensation. I sigh at the familiarity of the pain, and something flickers in Brent’s eyes.

“On your hands and knees.” His firm voice snaps me back into the moment. Before I can readjust myself, he slips my bra straps down my arms and unsnaps the back. My breasts fall into his hands and he groans. His thumbs sweep my nipples and I lean into his touch. He pulls them hard enough to make me gasp and then I’m moving into the position he demanded. Brent guides me in front of him, his hands stroking over my hips and ass. I want to part my legs, but I don’t.

Once again, I wait for him.

He rewards me by trailing his lips over my hip, biting and nibbling as he goes. His fingers trail between my ass cheeks and I quiver hard as he touches the sensitive flesh. I’m wet and pulsing by the time he slowly thrusts two fingers into my pussy. I cry out at the pleasure and hang my head as he starts slow, methodical thrusting. His other hand rakes up my side to cup my breast and I’m suddenly drowning in sensation.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my back. A new well of tears comes forth at his words, but I don’t let them fall. I know by his past reactions that he finds me attractive, but hearing the words loosens something inside my chest.

He plays with my nipples, pulling, raking his nails down the sides of my breasts, giving me a taste of pain. An orgasm is building fast despite how slowly he’s fucking me with his fingers. I’m edgy, needing more—faster, harder. But he’s making me wait.

Suddenly, he flips me onto my back and brings my legs over his shoulders. I didn’t even hear him drop his pants before, but he’s gloriously naked now, his thick cock hard and throbbing. I squirm because I need it so bad.

“Lie still. If you move, I’ll stop and I won’t let you come.”

We lock eyes and I’m moved by how the softness of his expression contrasts the demand in his voice. With one measured thrust, he impales me with his cock. Brent dives deep, all the way to the back of me until I’m sure I can’t take anymore. I want to tilt my hips, to throw my head back.

But I don’t move. And I don’t look away. Brent resumes slow thrusting, taunting me with his pace while he draws out long threads of pleasure. Little sounds work from my throat, but I don’t let them grow. If I do, I’m going to lose it and wrap myself around him.

He pulls my hips down lower so his thrusts bring the root of his cock over my clit. Pulling back, he jams hard into me. Once, twice, three times, stroking every sensitive place both inside and out.

He tenses, giving me two more hard strokes that send me over. Pleasure floods me as Brent cries out and buries himself deep. My fingers dig into his back. I don’t care if he punishes me for it. I look forward to it.

Brent collapses on top of me, his hands gripping huge handfuls of my hair. We breathe together for a long time, his skin cooling on mine, until he finally rolls to his side and gathers me up against him.

I try and wrap my head around this tender side of him, then give up and sink into him. His fingers stroke through my hair and its relaxes me in a way I can’t recall having ever felt before.

“I’d like to know something.” Brent turns toward me and trails a finger over my jaw.

“Okay.”

He pauses. “How did you get involved with Georgios?”

I cringe at the name. I ponder how to reply, what to tell him. There is no real benefit to lying or giving him a half truth. Not after what Georgios pulled today.

Taking a breath, I don’t overthink it. I just let the words come.

“My sister, Nathalie. She . . . she was a free spirit. Always impulsive, jumping from job to job, man to man. When she met Argos, I thought he’d be another come-and-go. But he stuck and so did the drug habit he got her hooked on.”

A flashback of meeting him the first time goes through my mind. I hated his sleazy smile and how he acted like he was the most important person in her life. She worshipped him and he encouraged it, leading her down a rabbit hole she’d never get out of.

“I told her there was something off about him, that he seemed dangerous, but she wouldn’t listen. By the time she found out he was involved in the Greek mob, her drug addiction was so bad that she’d do anything for a fix. She did whatever Argos said. Prostitution. Drug running. Other things she refused to tell me about. I tried to get her out, but she didn’t want to leave him. And then—“

I couldn’t say it, but I knew I had to. I watch the pulse in Brent’s neck pound against his supple flesh. Carefully, I touch him there, feeling the force of his life beneath my fingertip.

“And then she overdosed and died. And her drug debt was huge and Georgios wanted payment, in any way that he could get it. I either had to cough up the cash, or work it off. I was broke, so I had no choice but to work for him. Somehow I weaseled my way out of prostitution, but I was his runner. I made blind deliveries for him. Never knew what was in any of the packages, or who the recipients were.”

“That ignorance kept you alive.” His gravelly voice washes over me and I’m comforted. He’s still stroking my hair and it’s so nice, I don’t ever want it to end.

“Yeah.”

“And the debt? It’s paid?”

I look up and meet his eyes. “Yes.”

His brow furrows. With a soft kiss to my forehead, he rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

I run my fingers over the soft hair covering his chest. “How could you? I never told you about my sister.”

“No.” Brent shakes his head and looks at me. “I’m very sorry to hear about her death. And what you went through. But what I mean is that I didn’t realize you weren’t still working for him.”

I give him a quizzical look, but he pulls me tighter against his side and I snuggle in.

I enjoy this closeness, relish it.

Because I have no idea if it will ever happen again.