Possess (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 1) (7 page)

S
enna

I
was taunting him
, just as he had tried to taunt me.

Maxim was the smartest man I’d ever met, but he was a fool if he thought a few harsh words, an insult, the insinuation I was a whore would be enough to send me away.

Because it wouldn’t.

Coming here had been rash, foolish, but I was grateful I had because I saw something in him.

Maxim wasn’t immune to me. His reaction, the anger that he had lashed out with, told me that, and made me as happy as I could remember being.

Because I knew now, knew that I hadn’t been in this all alone for all these years, knew that even if he couldn’t say it, something of what I felt for him was returned.

I moaned when he squeezed my nipple, and was faintly aware of the sound of ripping fabric.

But I paid little attention to it, nor the cool air that brushed my skin as the ruined gown fell around my waist and then down to the floor.

I couldn’t, not when Maxim had pressed my back against the wall and hitched my legs onto his hips. I was only barely aware of the fact I was no longer standing on my own two feet, and instead the feel of his hardness, his skin against mine, had me spinning.

He rocked against me, his cock brushing against my folds, wetness falling from me. Then he pulled back, his shaft warm and hard against my thigh, but his fingers replacing it against my pussy.

Maxim patted my sex, touching me, stroking me, circling one finger around my opening but not pushing it inside.

Instead, he moved down, coating his finger with my wetness until it was slick. Then he moved lower, prodding at my back entrance, wetting the small hole with my own moisture.

Eyes heavy-lidded and locked on mine, Maxim started to press against me. His finger only barely breached my tight entrance, the pressure of it against me intense, something I couldn’t decide if I wanted more of or less of.

More, I decided, lowering my hips until an inch of his finger went inside me.

We both moaned at the sensation and I peeled open eyes I hadn’t realized were closed and looked at him.

His eyes were open, his face and expression still calm, but I had heard the sound he made, saw the pant of his breath.

I dropped my hips lower until his finger was completely inside me, kept my eyes locked on his, saw the uncharacteristic emotion in his expression.

“Is that what it means, Maxim?”

My voice was rough, breathy, and brimming with my desire.

In fact I was surprised to have been able to speak, the slight burning of his finger, the desperate emptiness in my womb, moving through me so intensely that my body shuddered.

“What if it does, little flower?” he said, his own voice rough. “What if it means that right now I’m going to fill your ass with my cock? Still want to play the whore then?” he asked.

He was completely still, his entire body tense, so rigid that all of his muscles were starkly defined.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

His already-rigid muscles went even more tense and he withdrew his finger. I let out a disgruntled sigh at the absence, but it was cut off by the feel of his cockhead now poised at the entrance of my pussy.

I wanted him inside me, desperately, but he didn’t give me that.

Instead, he gripped himself at the base and slid against me, his cock sandwiched between my slick lips as he moved, his shaft soon wet with the moisture that now flowed freely from me.

I stilled when he went lower, pressing the head of his cock against the place that had been so recently filled by his finger. He was still watching me, eyes unreadable, his body was still rigid, tight with control.

The question was clear in his eyes.

All I had to do was say the word, and this would end.

But I wouldn’t.

Because if I did, I would never have this opportunity again. Somehow, I had managed to slip through his walls, had gotten to see some of what he had hidden from me for years. If I passed up this chance, he wouldn’t give it to me again.

I knew that with all my heart.

I also knew that I wanted him, wanted him in any way I could have him, wanted to take whatever he would give, give whatever I had.

I dropped my hips, sighing at the combination of pleasure and pain when his broad cockhead breached my ass.

Maxim’s eyes opened ever so slightly wider, and I saw the moment he gave in to what was happening between us. He pushed a little farther, the feeling of him in my ass so foreign, searing, and sending a spiral of tight sensation through me.

He pushed again, spreading more of me, filling more of me, still controlled, still Maxim, but different.

There was an urgency in him now, a need, and I wanted even more of it. He thrust and at the same time I pushed down until he was completely inside me.

My ass burned with the stretch of his invasion, my pussy flat against his stomach and fluttering, seeking something to fill the emptiness. That contrast, being empty at the same time as I was stuffed to overflowing, made my heart pound as I groped against his broad shoulders, seeking something to ground me.

When he moved, a burning mix of pain and pleasure spiraled through me, both combining to become a sensation I’d never felt but wanted so much more of. I squeezed around his thick shaft, clenched down hard, heard his harsh breath and tight grunt as he pushed again.

I let go of his shoulders and wrapped my arms around him, pulled him as close as I could and did the same with my thighs, again bringing him completely inside me.

Then I laid my forehead against his, exhaled harshly, and then breathed in, taking his breath with mine, mine with his, our bodies locked together.

I had thought of this, imagined being with him this intimately in some way, but nothing I had imagined was like the reality of it. But when he pushed again, everything emptied from my mind except for the tight burn, the delicious emptiness, Maxim’s strong body against mine.

When I threaded my fingers at the base of his neck and kissed his forehead, he pushed a final time and then emptied himself, his cock throbbing inside me.

M
axim

M
y heart thundered
with the intensity of my orgasm, but I still held her against me, her sweat-slicked skin against mine. I held her for as long as I dared, until my softening cock slipped out of her.

Finally, I lowered her legs to the ground, but didn’t let her stand. Instead, I put an arm around her waist and swept her up against me, cradling her against my chest. She gave into my hold, laid her face against my neck, and splayed her hands against my shoulders as she rested against me, her body limp with what I prayed was satisfaction.

I’d have to figure out what had come over me, what had driven me to do such a thing, but in this moment I could think of nothing else but holding her closer, the feel of her breath against my skin, her fingers against my arm, the knowledge that I had been so intimately close to her.

I hadn’t let myself think about it, hadn’t admitted that I wanted it, but now that I had touched her, had her, I couldn’t ignore that need any longer.

Now, even still, having just recently spent myself and after having had the most intense orgasm of my life, I began to harden.

But I paid my own need no attention.

I looked down at Senna, her face soft, dreamy, and saw wonder in it, knew that she was mine.

Instead of taking her to her room, I took her to mine.

The king-sized bed was made, a habit I hadn’t been able to break, so I pulled the covers back and laid her against them. Then, after a long, lingering look, I stepped away and returned with a warm wet cloth that I used to clean her.

Wiping away my seed reminded me of what we had just experienced moments ago, made me long to experience it again, and when I looked at her, her eyes soft, I realized why I shouldn’t have done that, even more that even though I shouldn’t have there was no way I could not have her again.

After I finished cleaning her, I took the cloth back to the bathroom and then returned to the side of the bed.

“You should sleep, little flower,” I said as I watched her dreamy face, eyelids heavy.

“You too,” she said.

“Soon,” I replied as I covered her body with the sheets, sad at the loss of the sight, but happy for a slightly lessened distraction.

“Good night, Maxim,” she said.

I just turned my lips up in a smile that was genuine with happiness, something I only did with her, and then I watched as she drifted off to sleep.

As she slept, I watched her, trying to understand what had come over me, trying to understand the hold she had on me.

But as the minutes and then eventually hours passed, I got no closer to reaching my understanding.

Hadn’t understood that first day, hadn’t understood it in the ten years since, and I doubted I would now.

There was nothing to understand, maybe there was nothing to explain. Maybe it was simply the case that Senna was my obsession. Or maybe she was the only person with whom I could ever express something like love.

There were no answers, so I stopped thinking and then got into the bed beside her, and when she curled against me, her warm, soft body against mine, I fell asleep.

S
enna

W
hen I woke
, I knew exactly where I was.

I had dreamed of this too many times not to.

Me, in Maxim’s bed, surrounded by sheets that were still warm from his body, that still smelled of him.

Everything I had imagined, had only allowed myself to think of in the deepest, darkest night, everything except for him being there.

I turned, inhaled deeply, letting myself absorb the smell and warmth, but saddened by the fact that he wasn’t there. But I wouldn’t let his absence dampen my joy.

Last night may have been an aberration, may have been something that I would never be able to explain, but it had happened.

If he didn’t acknowledge it, never touched me again, I would be sad. But I would always have last night, always have the knowledge that Maxim, no matter how detached he tried to be, felt something, had wanted me, if only for those few moments.

I turned over to lie flat on my back and stretched, the new sensations in my body drawing my attention. My hips stung from where he had squeezed them. My thighs burned from the position he’d held me in, and lower, between the thighs, I felt that delicious stretch that served as a reminder of the thing that had happened between he and I.

“Are you sore?”

I looked up as Maxim came in, dressed in a dark gray suit that was breathtaking on him, as everything was.

“A little. Not bad,” I said, smiling.

“Tell me if that changes,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected, what our first conversation after this would be like, but it hadn’t been this. It wasn’t Maxim’s way to express any deep emotion, and I had halfway expected he wouldn’t acknowledge what had happened. His tenderness now, though, the slight softness in his eyes, warmed me.

He got closer to me and sat on the edge of the bed, eyes sweeping the outline of my body through the sheets and then up again until he met my eyes.

“It’s a shame,” he said finally.

I frowned, watching him as he moved closer. “What’s a shame?” I asked.

He brushed his thumb across my lips. “You’ve taken my cock in your mouth and in your ass, but I’ve never kissed you,” he said.

I was frozen by his words, the dirtiness of them, the truth in them, the fact that he was moving closer to me now.

I wanted to meet him halfway, more than halfway, but was frozen, watching as he moved closer and then closer and then pressed his lips against mine.

A soft brush of lips, a faint exhale, and then more. He kissed me deeper, took my mouth with his command and thoroughness and left me breathless, throbbing with need to be filled by him.

When he broke away, I looked into his eyes and saw that they were deep with passion, a look I was finally coming to recognize. “So many other places to taste,” he said.

My body shivered with the promise in his words.

“Will you?” I asked, voice coming out trembling, shaking with desire and anxiousness to hear his answer, leaving me almost breathless.

“Yes,” he said. Then he stood. “But I have an appointment. So do you.”

I’d forgotten about my plans for the day completely and would have pretended I still had if it had meant a chance to be with Maxim again.

He paused, looked at me, his expression telling me he knew the direction of my thoughts.

“Soon, little flower. Soon,” he said and then he left.

S
enna

T
he day passed
in a joyous haze. There were few moments when I wasn’t thinking of him, wishing he was with me, wanting to touch him again.

I could hardly believe what had happened, what Maxim had told me was to come. As the afternoon passed, I still hadn’t completely wrapped my mind around what had happened, and I didn’t really want to.

The whys didn’t matter. All that mattered was that finally, after all these years, one of my closely held and most unlikely dreams was on the verge of coming true. That thought in mind, I showered, letting my hands linger but not for too long. Then I dressed, choosing a white peasant blouse to pair with my jeans and sandals.

I was excited about Maxim, but also excited about the day’s activity, and focused on that as I left the building, heading farther into the city’s downtown. I didn’t see my companions, the men Maxim insisted accompany me everywhere, but I knew they were present, even if they weren’t visible.

They didn’t have my attention, though, and instead I thought about what I was about to do, nerves biting at my stomach and growing more intense as I got closer to my destination.

I always got nervous, but I still went anyway. I’d started doing this about five years ago. Anytime I thought we might be somewhere for more than a few weeks, I’d find some volunteer activity. Cleaning off a dirty lot, building a playground, or, like today, working in a community kitchen.

They were small contributions, and in truth, they were more for my own benefit. I never lingered and didn’t get too personal, but simply being there gave me a sense of connection and purpose that had nothing to do with Maxim, and allowed me the opportunity to spend time with people who weren’t a part of the Syndicate.

I followed the signs that led volunteers toward the entrance. I’d heard about this place on television. It was a food bank, but twice a week, it offered a pay-what-you-can dinner that welcomed all and always needed volunteers.

Just the sort of activity I preferred, one where I could get lost among the crowd and not draw attention but still enjoy.

“I’m here to help with the dinner?” I said when I stopped in front of the table labeled Volunteers Here.

The words came out more like a question, but the woman manning the table didn’t seem to notice. She smiled up at me brightly. “A new face! What’s your name, dear?” she asked.

“Jo-Jolene,” I said, quickly rushing over my stutter.

“Welcome, Jolene,” she said, seeming not to notice how embarrassed I felt at giving the false name. I’d said the first thing that came to mind, but next time, I would pick a name before I left.

“Thank you,” I replied, taking the name tag that she handed me and trying to smile past my nerves and embarrassment.

“Thank you. You know how to peel potatoes?” she asked, a gleam in her eye.

I smiled, this time the expression genuine. “I have done it a time or two,” I said.

She clapped. “Great! Head back that way and you can get started.”

I nodded and then went into the kitchen and stopped in front of a tall man who stood at the door. “Hi,” I said.

He looked down at my name tag. “Hi, Jolene. First time here?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Great to have you. You can wash your hands over there,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said and then headed to the sink, washed my hands, put on a hairnet, and then went toward the mountain of potatoes.

I said brief hellos to the three women and two men who were also peeling and then I started working. I said little but happily listened to their chatter. Conversations about kids’ activities, television, work. Normal stuff that I so rarely heard about in my life with Maxim.

Two hours later, we had finished the mountain, my fingers scraped and tired.

I was ecstatic.

Today had been everything I’d hoped, more, even. It was always so easy to lose myself in Maxim, in his world and the world of the Syndicate. But days like today, meeting the people I’d met, helping people, always gave me much-needed perspective.

I said good-bye, waved at the woman who’d signed me in, and began to venture down the street, practically floating. I made it a block before Adrian pulled up beside me.

“Get in, Senna. I’ll take you back,” he said through the lowered passenger-side window.

Initially, I wanted to protest because I treasured these times alone, wanting to maintain the feelings that peeling the potatoes had brought. But as much as I loved that feeling, sought it out, it wasn’t my life. A diversion, yes, one I welcomed and needed, but it was only a very small part of my life. Unlike Maxim, who was my entire world.

I got into the SUV.