Wicked Pleasures (2 page)

“This won’t take long,” he said as he started his
way through the maze of desks.

“Excuse me?” The hair rose on her nape and alarm
made her throat constrict.

Both were coming her way and Bronte backed up. She
had a feeling she wouldn’t be making her flight.

****

Roark stared into the inky night from his position
on the second-floor balcony. The slight breeze swept across his
nude body and cooled his skin. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs
with fresh air and the scent of promise. The anticipation of what
was coming made him firm in a place where he’d had little
satisfaction in many years.

Taking his cock into his hand, he stroked his hard
length until he reached completion. He blew out a long breath
between his clenched teeth but tension remained.

An owl hooted in the distance and he swore he heard
howling.
Impossible…not tonight.
His gift wasn’t due to
arrive until dark tomorrow.

Turning on heel, he walked into his bedroom then
stretched his tired body. He’d been edgy for days and his patience
was thinning. Now that the gift was almost here, he could feel the
eagerness in his bones and every nerve ending was sensitive. He’d
dreamt of freedom night after night and had fantasized of
salvation. It was as if the sun was about to rise upon a land of
gloom and refuge was near. His heart quickened and sweat beaded on
his forehead.

There wasn’t much he could do except sleep. Rest was
always a place of seclusion, which he liked. He strode across the
cool stone of the floor and slid into bed. The mattress eased under
his body and the satin sheets comforted him. He was drained, but
not in a way that any amount of slumber could cure. His body grew
weaker with each day passing and he despised the lack of control he
had in easing his suffering.

Roark laid there for a few minutes before sleepiness
enveloped him in a warm, pleasing blanket. He gave into its sweet
seduction and closed his heavy eyes. Within this peacefulness, he
saw
her
and it always gratified him. It was the only place
love came without harm or pain.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out before being
pulled him from his restful cocoon. He listened closely and a loud
knock came at his door. Who would be brave enough to disturb him in
the middle of the night? His men knew better.

“Fuck off,” he bellowed. He’d hoped his roaring
demand would deter the intruder and help them realize the severity
of bothering him. When the annoying bang came again, he knew he’d
have to send them along the hard way.

Getting out of bed, nostrils flaring, he stomped
across the room and tore open the thick, mahogany door, almost
releasing it from its hinges. “Who the fuc—”

“Roark, my friend, it’s about time.”

He eyed his best friend through a blurred haze as
his heart fluttered in comprehension. Shelby would only come at
this late hour for one reason. “Have you brought the treasure?”
Roark asked. His grip tightened on the doorknob and he felt the
metal give under his fingers. He hadn’t expected the package so
soon.

“We have. There was a change of plans. Didn’t you
smell it?”

Roark scoffed. “I’ve smelled it for days.”
And it
had almost been his undoing.
“Where is it?”

“The gem is waiting downstairs in the back of the
Prombron.” Shelby scratched his scraggly, grey beard. It was a sign
that the brawny man hadn’t been asleep for a few days. “The package
wasn’t an easy transport.” The older man then swiped a hand through
his thick blonde hair.

“You like challenges, buddy.” Roark grinned. “Why
are you complaining? Bring it in.” He could barely keep the
eagerness from his voice.

“Yes I enjoy a challenge, my friend. I’m always
looking for entertainment.” Shelby chuckled. “Can I lend a
suggestion?”

“What?” Roark growled the word. Shelby’s casual
nature worked on Roark’s last nerve. Time wasted, which was
something they had little of.

“Put some clothes on, man.”

Roark looked down. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t
wearing anything. He looked back up at his friend and shrugged.
“I’ll take care of this.”

Shelby started to turn, but then he stopped. He
looked back at Roark with concern etching wrinkles at the corners
of his mouth. “You sure you’re ready for the package?”

“Ready isn’t the word I’d use. Maybe restless.
Anyway, what other choice do I have?” They’d been through this. The
plan had been in the works for six months and it’d been a very long
and stressful wait. Roark had felt like a bear hibernating,
anticipating the moment when he could walk out of the cave and back
into the sunlight.

“True,” Shelby nodded. “Meet in the den?”

“Yes.” Roark stood in the open doorway, listening as
Shelby’s heavy footsteps faded down the hall. The time was here and
all of his planning had come to a head. As prepared as he’d thought
he was, suddenly he was a bit displeased when he should be happy.
This was his opportunity for a new beginning.

Going to the armoire, he dug through his clothes for
something to wear. He grabbed a pair of jeans and tugged them on,
snapping the button at the same time he heard shuffling downstairs.
The package was inside.

Slamming the door shut to the cabinet, he quickly
left the room and headed to the top of the stairs. From his perch
in the darkened corridor, he watched below. Shelby and Crenshaw
carried the package between them as they disappeared inside the
den. Anxiety grew within Roark as he descended each step that
brought him closer to the gift. The nearer he got, the faster his
heart raced.

Roark paused outside of the door to the room where
they’d taken the gem and he could smell the strong scent—it made
the hairs stand on the back of his neck. He was a man with nerves
of steel, but they were absent.

Gaining his bearings, he marched into the room.
Embers remained in the fireplace but there was a chill to the air,
or maybe it was in his heart. Either way, he wanted the warmth of a
blaze. He motioned for Crenshaw, who’d been standing by the door,
to start one. The man nodded, grabbed the poker and began stoking
the ash. Shelby stood in the middle of the room, his burly
six-feet-five frame hid the chair. Roark moved further in as he
absorbed every noise.

Rustling sounds penetrated his senses as the package
moved. His blood pounded through his veins like a raging river.

“Your long awaited prize, Roark.” Shelby smirked as
he pointed a thumb downward and moved to the side.

“Yes, I can smell her.” Roark drew in long breaths.
The scent of vanilla tangled with fresh blood made his stomach
churn. “Has she been hurt?” He couldn’t see her face because it was
covered with a cotton bag. He ticked his gaze over her slender
curves as curiosity grew in him. She appeared small, almost
fragile, sitting in the huge leather chair. Her white top was
ripped at the neckline, showing the tops of pale breasts in a red
bra, and her black slacks were covered in blood. He edged his gaze
further down to her pink toenails, then quickly lifted his
attention back up. She was breathing so fast and her chest rose and
fell in rhythm with the beating of his heart. His upper body
tightened and his groin pulsated in a familiar sweep of emotions.
“Answer me, Shelby. Is she wounded?” Roark lost patience.

“The little wench wouldn’t behave. She threw a
tantrum, broke a vase and cut her hand,” he answered in an annoyed
tone.

“Did you clean up?”

“Of course,” Shelby answered.

“Why didn’t you wait until tomorrow to take her from
the airport parking garage, like we’d planned?” Roark asked.

“Because we had the ultimate opportunity. She was
alone,” he sneered.

“You should have discussed the arrangements with me
before acting.” Roark didn’t look at the other man as he continued
to watch the woman.

“I understand,” Shelby responded.

The fire cracked and popped as the room came alive
in golden light. Roark took a step closer to the chair. A blood
soaked rag covered her tied hands. “Remove the rope,” he
demanded.

“Think twice before you allow the hellion freedom.
Don’t let her size fool you,” Shelby huffed.

“The rope.
Now
,” Roark forced the words
through tight lips. He could handle men three times his size and
had no doubt he could control a wisp of a delicate female.

Shelby did as commanded. He removed the cord and
tossed it into the fire. The flames licked at the twine and sparked
higher as if the woman’s DNA fed the blaze. The aroma of woman and
blood swathed the room, making Roark hypersensitive. He gained
focus and moved to stand in front of her, pacing his breathing.
Although her hands were now untied, she stayed still.

“Leave us,” Roark ordered to Shelby and Crenshaw. He
didn’t need an audience.

Shelby opened his mouth, as if he wanted to argue. A
quick glance from Roark made him remain quiet, which was a good
thing. His logical reasoning was on shut down and his instincts
were on overload with the woman near.

“Come on, Crenshaw.” Shelby motioned for the other
man to follow. Crenshaw didn’t even give Roark a second glance as
he moved into the hallway, but Shelby stayed at the threshold.
“Would you like me to stay close?” he asked.

Roark folded his arms over his chest. “You can go. I
want to be alone with her.”

Shelby nodded and left, closing the door behind
him.

Minutes ticked by while Roark remained quiet,
watching her and wondering why she wasn’t making a move. If he were
in her position he’d fight, but fighting was in his blood. There
was a long line of great warriors in his lineage, yet he knew she
too had a stubborn streak.

Disappointment twisted its way through his chest. A
lot rested on this strange woman sitting before him. He realized
she had no clue of her power, and proving it to her would take
time. His heritage couldn’t stop with him and he’d do almost
anything to prevent that from happening. Others counted on him as
their leader and letting them down wasn’t an option, even if that
meant he’d suffer the consequences.

The silence became overbearing and he growled in
irritation.

“I’ll remove the mask,” he whispered and waited for
a response, but nothing came.

He moved in and slowly lifted the cover from her
head as if he opened the door to a panther’s cage. A large mass of
black curls rolled onto her shoulders and down her back. Her face
lowered and the hair blanketed her features. His fingers itched to
touch the length and he started to reach to satisfy his need but
caught himself. He moaned deep in his throat as he forced the
desire away and replaced it with anger, which numbed any other
feeling. He’d gotten used to putting up walls of fury.

Frustration spiraled through him like barbed wire.
“Lift your head, woman.”

Nothing.
He didn’t have the time for this. He
grabbed her chin and lifted.

She clamped her teeth down on his thumb and he
jerked his arm back, causing her to release her grip. He looked
down at the teeth marks and the blood oozing from his skin. “Good
try, but I’ve been bitten harder by a flea.” He laughed.
At
least he’d gotten a reaction from her.

Caught up in the moment, he hadn’t expected her next
move. She brought her knee up and planted it into his crotch. Humor
fled as he fell to his knees, a sickening pain flooded him and bile
rose into his throat. He coughed and sputtered as his vision
blurred. “Why does every woman have to go for the balls?” he said
through tight lips. He heard rustling and looked up as the woman
darted from the chair. “Fuck!”

Pushing past the throbbing ache between his legs, he
reached out and grabbed her ankle, sending her falling face first
onto the thick rug. While he had her foot trapped in his grasp, she
brought the other up and kicked him hard on the chin. He heard
something snap in his jaw but it was nothing compared to the misery
he felt in his balls.

Grabbing the other leg, he held her as she squirmed
like a fish on land. “We can do this all night,” he said. “Do you
really believe you can get away?”

“Let me go!” She continued to struggle against his
grip.

Shaking his head, he waited until she finally quit
moving, and then loosened his grip on both of her legs. “One thing
I know, as feisty as you are, I’m much stronger, but I don’t want
to hurt you.”

“Leave me alone!” Her scream resonated off the walls
and pounded through his skull. She jerked and whipped around,
attempting to free herself from him again. Her fist came up and
connected with his nose and he squinted. He felt wetness and wiped
his face across his shoulder, seeing a trace of crimson.

“That’s enough blood for one night!” He crawled on
top of her, pinning her under his two- hundred-twenty pound frame,
securing her wrists high above her head while his body constricted
her movement. She still thrashed underneath him although it was
unproductive. “Give up,” he whispered next to her ear.

“Screw you.” Her lips trembled.

He stared down at her, the pain in his groin
forgotten as the warmth of their bodies pressed together stirred
other sensations. His sore cock twitched and attempted to rise. He
almost found it embarrassing that she had that much control over
his nether region.

With each rapid breath she took, her firm breasts
pushed against his chest, sending waves of longing through him. Her
long hair was scattered across the floor and tendrils rested on her
face. He blew the wisps away. He wouldn’t have been more stunned if
someone had punched him in the stomach. Her eyes…they were an
amazing deep green, just as he’d dreamt night after night. They
reminded him of cat eyes, two glimmering mirrors that could see
through a person and into their soul.

Taking a deep breath, he refused to let her shake
him—not in his heart, his mind, or anywhere else. He had a slip up
in his barrier, but he’d make sure he kept his walls up.