Demon's Plaything (10 page)

After one last stroke and a swipe of her clit, he held her tight against him, and they came together, him on a long, low moan, her on an exhausted exhale. He held her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his hips pressed to hers, cock still buried inside her; the warm, solid weight beneath him was a disorienting mix of comfort and arousal that made his heart beat even faster. He wished they could stay like this forever, as close as two people could be, the craziness of the outside world completely separate and unable to penetrate the bubble they’d created. But then she shifted and the movement dislodged him. They sighed in unison, and he didn’t doubt that Shayla felt the loss as acutely as he did.

Desperate to hold the moment for as long as he could, he kissed the tender skin that connected her neck and shoulder and caressed her ass with one hand as he cupped her breast with the other, tweaking her ripe, pebbled nipple. He was rewarded with another sigh, and Shayla pushed back against him. To his amazement, he felt blood rush to his groin and despite his recent climax, the stir of arousal fluttered through him.

Vaguely, he heard the squeal of tires and low roar of what sounded like several engines, and Shayla, having heard it as well apparently, stiffened and shrank away from him.

“It’s okay,” he said to the startled expression on her face and then kissed her again, trying to soothe her.

“I know,” she said, waving a hand. “It’s nothing. We’ve been getting more random traffic, motorcycles and whatnot in the neighborhood recently, but the police say it’s just jerks who don’t care about common courtesy.”

He caressed her cheek again, tried to rekindle the connection. But the spell was broken; he could tell in the line of her shoulders and back, so pliant and welcoming just moments ago, but which now practically screamed,
Do! Not! Touch!

He rested against her an instant longer and then stepped back in an unspoken admission of surrender, at least for now. Then he watched her repair her clothing, hands steady, her smooth, efficient movements reminding him of his own state of undress and leading him to adjust his own clothing and wrap the discarded condom in a tissue.

When she turned to look at him, the vulnerable, willing woman who had stood before him seconds ago was gone, replaced with the coolly efficient professional facade she so easily—and often—displayed. Her mask was back in place, and there was no evidence of what had happened between them at all. He bristled at the thought that she could so easily brush aside the moment, and he heard himself say, “This happened. You can’t pretend it didn’t.”

Her gaze flew up to his, revealing shock, before she completely schooled her features and became the robot again.

“Of course it happened,” she said, her tone infuriatingly even. “But it means nothing.”

It means everything,
he wanted to say, disgusted by the lie and by the fact that she thought him unobservant enough to believe it.

Instead, he took a different tact, picking up the subject that had led to this all. “Shayla, I’m serious. Don’t go back to the fights.”

When she looked away, he reached up and placed a hand under her chin, tracing her lips with his thumb as he tilted her head toward him. It occurred to him that he hadn’t kissed her since that first time, and, unable to resist, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his, smiling when he was reminded they really were as soft and succulent as they looked. She reached up and grabbed the ends of his hair, tangling her fingers in the strands and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Their tongues dueled in a battle for dominance, and when she finally sighed her defeat, he pulled her close, bringing her body flush against his before he pulled back.

“Don’t go back, Shayla,” he said, his voice stern.

As if in a trance, she stepped closer and hugged him fiercely, resting her head on his chest. He squeezed her, wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.

“It’s not safe,” he said, softer this time.

“Then it’s not safe for you either,” she responded, voice muffled.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her deadpan tone.

“We’re talking about you. Why do you insist on doing this, Shayla? I know Ian has you in this. Is it money? What?”

She placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him.

“I have to protect him.” Her face crumpled. “I love him, and pretty soon he’s going to be all I have left.”

He remembered her comment about her grandmother, supporting her only sibling, and it all clicked into place. He’d known how much Shayla wanted to protect Ian, but this gave things a new dimension. She thought, misguided as it was, that she was saving her family.

“Shayla, I know what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t the way.”

“Then what is?” she implored.

“I’ll think of something. But you can’t go back.”

He looked her in the eye, held her gaze to show how serious he was. Her lips tightened, but she didn’t contradict him, so he counted that as a win.

“I’m going now. I know you have to feed your cat,” he said, wanting to brighten her spirits.

She laughed, a light tinkle of sound that seemed to surprise her. Unable to resist, he gave her one last kiss and left.

After he left, Shayla peeled off her clothes and climbed into bed. Nana would have killed her, cleanliness and godliness and all that, but she didn’t care. She was bone-tired from the day, sex sleepy from the night, and more than she wanted to admit, she wasn’t quite ready to wash off traces of Demon.

She couldn’t suppress the chuckle at his name. Silly name for a silly man, yet she wouldn’t pretend she wasn’t infused with warmth at the sound of it, by the man himself. She lay on her back staring at the ceiling, goofy smile that she couldn’t wipe away spread across her face. When she shifted her body, it set off a series of throbs between her legs, and her pussy clenched, grasping at the remembered feel of his thick cock filling her, the emptiness that he’d left in his wake burning inside her, making her crave him again. She wished he’d stayed. That sweet pang in her womb was something she suspected only he could satisfy, but beyond that, she just wanted him, wanted to hold him, touch him, stare into those twinkling eyes.

Demon brought her comfort, took her mind away from the world and made her
feel
. It was ridiculous, she knew, but no more ridiculous than her letting Ian pull her into his scheme. Demon was right; she knew he was, but Ian had seemed so desperate…

She pushed away the thought, refusing to let Ian, or anything else, take her mind away from the beautiful, brief moment they’d shared. And anyway, she couldn’t solve this tonight. So she let her mind wander as she drifted off to sleep, letting thoughts of Demon float to the surface.

••••

Demon walked in and settled across from Elah a bit uneasily. He hadn’t been sure the man would be there, let alone whether he’d have time or the inclination to see him, but to his surprise, the receptionist saw him right in. Demon thought Elah had a favorable opinion of him, but still, he felt a bit of trepidation. Elah was unreadable, but Shayla was worth the risk. Elah looked up and leaned back in his chair, his cold eyes assessing.

“You needed to speak with me?” he said, his voice that same even, somewhat bland tone he always used, circumstances not withstanding.

“Yes, I wanted to ask for a favor.”

“That’s direct. I usually get a whole song and dance before people get down to it.”

“You’re a busy man. I thought I’d spare you.”

“Much appreciated. So what do you need? And please speak freely.”

Demon nodded at the acknowledgment. Elah was maniacal about security, so the statement was an indication of his comfort.

“You asked me to keep an eye on the fights.”

Elah nodded.

“Well, I have been and with the exception of one small issue, things seem to be running smoothly.”

“Go ahead,” Elah said.

“There’s a guy, Ian, who owes. I’d like to pay his debt.”

“Ian Rodgers?” Elah asked.

“Yeah, that’s him. I think he’s in for a lot, a hundred thousand at least, maybe more. I’ll pay the appropriate party, but I need him cut loose.”

“Answer a question first. What’s it to you? That guy is scum.”

It seemed the rumors were true. If Elah knew about Ian, he had to be tied in at the very lowest levels of the streets. Ian should have been beneath Elah’s notice.

“It’s for a friend.”

“That nice doctor, I presume?”

Demon couldn’t help but smile. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you know that, but I am.”

“No, you shouldn’t be. You know I like to keep tabs.”

“Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”

Demon waited as the other man considered him. Then, he finally said, “I’d be happy to arrange this if I could. But Ian Rodgers doesn’t have any debts. At least not in this city.”

“What?” Demon asked, surprised at the news. From what little Shayla had shared and from what Demon knew of Ian’s past, he’d expected Ian to be in deep. It wasn’t uncommon for gamblers to pay debt in trade, and Demon hadn’t asked any specific questions about it, figuring he understood the circumstances. Seemed he’d been wrong.

Elah shrugged. “He’s clear. And he makes a nice cut off the fight. Collects the doctor’s cut too from what I understand.”

“You mean that son of a bitch is making money and not working off a debt?”

Demon couldn’t keep the shock and anger out of his voice. Elah lifted his brow a millimeter, the most animated reaction from him Demon had ever seen.

“Yeah, and a nice amount of money. He and the doctor are working together. Or that’s how he portrayed it anyway, so I’m told.”

The red at the edge of Demon’s vision spread and his heart rate spiked. The anguish on Shayla’s face, in her voice, when she’d told him about Ian, her concern for him, played on a loop. He’d dealt with some low motherfuckers, but even the worst of the worst protected their family.

“You want him out?” Elah’s voice penetrated his brain.

“Oh yes,” Demon said as he formed a plan. “I want him out. Completely if possible. Her, too. I don’t want her allowed anywhere near that shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“No.”

“Good. Now I need to ask a favor of my own.”

Demon nodded and sat up to listen.

••••

The next night came, and Shayla found herself driving to the warehouse as if on autopilot. She’d wavered back and forth all day, Ian on one shoulder, imploring her to go, Demon on the other, insisting she stay away. The irony of that fact was not lost on her.

Yet, she didn’t have the wherewithal to resist. If something happened to Ian and she hadn’t done everything she could… She shuddered at the thought. This situation was unsustainable, but the alternative was unthinkable. Maybe Demon could help. The realization buoyed her. He was, to an extent she wasn’t interested in exploring too deeply, familiar with these people, this world. He could help her figure out what to do. Ian hadn’t given her specifics, but with Demon’s help, she’d find a way out of this mess, for Ian and for herself. Then the details wouldn’t matter. They’d be free, and perhaps she and Demon would have a chance to explore things between them, figure out whether there was something more than amazing chemistry and good conversation. Her gut told her there was, that this man was something special, but with everything swirling around her, she couldn’t be sure. And while her instincts had rarely misled her—even when it came to Ian—she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. Still, in spite of what was or wasn’t in the future for her and Demon, she knew he’d help her if he could.

Excited by the new course of action, she hurried to her usual post in the space between the private clinic area and the main arena, responding to the polite head nods and hellos that floated her way. Seemed she was becoming a regular, but the thought didn’t scare or concern her as it would have even minutes ago. She had a plan!

“I told you not to come back here, Shayla.”

She started at the deep voice whispering in her ear, but fright turned to elation when she realized it was him. Without thinking, she turned around and wrapped her arms around his waist, breathing in the scent she had come to love, pressing as close as physics would allow, the feel of her curves against his muscled body reminding her of last night. But beyond just the physical, being near him, touching him grounded her, made her believe everything would be okay. He seemed surprised by her display, but after a moment, he put his arms around her waist and closed the last millimeters of distance between them. Shayla wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but she could have been on the fifty-yard line at the Super Bowl and she wouldn’t have cared a whit.

He pulled back an inch, but she immediately closed the distance. He tried again, and this time she relented.

“I appreciate the warm greeting,” he said, smiling down at her before he sobered, “but I told you not to come back.”

“I heard you the first two times,” she said, slightly annoyed at his high-handedness, but still so ridiculously happy to see him that her irritation didn’t bleed into her voice.