Deadly Obsession (New York City Syndicate #2)

Chapter 1 – Sage

I ’m getting railed by the man who owns the hottest nightclub in Brooklyn.

He has me folded over his office desk, slamming into me from behind.

The front of his legs slap against the back of mine, forcing my eyes to roll back into my head.

His strong hands grip the fabric of my rolled-up dress like a saddle’s horn, allowing him to fuck me deeper.

I scream with every vicious thrust as the tip of his cock repeatedly grazes my g-spot.

“Yes, Boss,” I whimper. “Like that.”

I don’t know his name, he never gave it to me, and I never asked for it. The first time I called him Boss, paired with a salute, he clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. I don’t know why that made him so mad. He’s literally a boss. He owns the nightclub .

I so badly want to give him orders. I want him on his knees in front of me, licking my pumps.

They’re Louboutins—a splurge upon getting my first payout from the app I signed up for where all I do is order men around.

I spent too many years being controlled by my ex. When I left him, I promised myself I’d be the one making the demands. Especially in my sex life. It began with the app and then I started going to sex clubs where I learned to dominate my partners.

But tonight, when I was brought into the office of the owner of Underground Park Slope, I knew he wasn’t the type to wear a collar and let me call him puppy.

I mean, I’ve never done that before, and this man would look delectable on all fours, but he’s also intimidating and powerful and there’s something about him that feels... dangerous, so I decided to let him take the lead.

Another orgasm builds, and he grunts the moment my pussy walls pulse around him.

“Fuck, Reine,” he wheezes, but doesn’t let up.

Reine?

Did he forget my name too? No, because he addressed me by Sage when I was brought to him. He knew my name before I even gave it to him.

His hand crashes down on my bare ass, the sound cracking through the near silence of the room. Silent except for my moans, his grunts, and the muffled beats of music from the club downstairs.

He spanks me again, harder this time, and I buck underneath him. When the third lashing lands, I’m sent over the edge.

Orgasm number two!

The moan I let out is mixed with a sob. Tears roll down my face and stars dance across my vision as pleasure from the orgasm ripples through my body.

Am I going to pass out?

That’s how well this man has fucked me.

He removes his cock and walks around the desk where my head hangs over the edge, as I try to catch my breath. He swipes his fingers over the condom, then grips my hair with his other hand to lift my head.

“Open,” he demands.

He barely gives me time to comply before he shoves his fingers past my lips—the fingers coated with my pleasure that he literally just swiped off that condom.

“Clean them off.”

I shouldn’t find this hot, but I groan as I flail my tongue over the digits.

“Do you like the way you taste?”

“Mhm.”

Once he’s satisfied that I’ve had enough, he removes his fingers to peel the condom off and pushes his cock into my mouth. I suck the shaft down to his balls before flattening my tongue and withdrawing back to the tip.

He lets out a sharp breath.

He hasn’t come yet, so I slide his length down my throat again. He moans and sinks himself deeper, causing me to gag. My eyes water, the tears spilling down my cheeks, adding to the streaks of mascara.

I’m ready to Hoover this man and let his cum pour down my throat, but he releases my hair and steps away, taking his hard cock with him.

I might have whined a little.

He walks to a black leather couch on the other side of the room and sits down.

“Come here, Reine.”

Reine.

He said it again.

Now that my brain’s not jumbled from getting fucked, I’m pretty sure the word is French. I took French classes in high school, but I don’t remember shit because I’m about to turn thirty-three, and high school was a long freaking time ago.

I dismount the desk, adjusting my dress to cover my bare ass and wonder where my panties went as I cross the floor of the office—which might be bigger than my studio apartment.

I stand in front of him .

I can’t imagine how unhinged I look. He’d been tugging on my hair. It’s surely a blonde bird’s nest on top my head. My lipstick is certainly smeared to match my streaked mascara. Red splotches decorate my body either from his mouth sucking my skin, or his hands leaving beautiful marks.

But whatever this man sees, his eyes light up with desire.

“Undress.”

Fuck he’s bossy.

Boss.

I can’t stand it.

Then why did your cunt just flutter at the order?

He combs his hand through his sweaty midnight hair. It’s short on the side and longer on top, and aside from the strand that fell across his forehead just now, most of it stays slicked back.

He really is a gorgeous man.

He’s wearing a suit, or he was wearing a suit. The jacket is tossed on a chair at his desk. His black dress shirt is partially unbuttoned and open, revealing a tattooed chest and soft stomach. His cock stands straight up through his unzipped pants.

He’s a big guy with a belly that jiggles, and he towers over my five-foot-eight frame.

“You first,” I say with a smirk.

He raises a brow as if no one has ever challenged him before .

Maybe no one has.

I also find myself having a hard time saying no to him.

Despite being intimidating, I don’t break eye contact with him because I’m determined to get what I want.

And that’s for him to be naked too.

We didn’t have time to fully undress before his mouth and hands were all over me.

It all started with me on the dance floor, moving my hips to a song I can’t remember, but I was feeling myself, so my hands sensually scrubbed over my body. My eyes closed as I swayed to the beat. Then a creep came up behind me, wrapped his arm around my waist, and cupped my pussy through my dress.

I didn’t hesitate to swivel around and punch the asshole square in the nose.

Turns out, the owner of Underground Park Slope doesn’t tolerate violence in his club, and security escorted the handsy man out a side door that I assumed was an exit. I was then brought up to Boss’s office.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do to him, Sage,” he said.

I was confused at first.

“He touched you without your consent. I can turn him over to the police or I can make sure he’ll never touch another woman again.”

I chose option two because, in my experience, police won’t be able to do anything unless there’s evidence, and even if he’s arrested, the jails are too crowded, and he’d likely be released only to go on and find another woman to violate.

Boss seemed pleased with my answer and made a phone call. I overheard him saying something about ‘tying him up’ and ‘I’ll be there soon to take care of him.’ I pretended not to know exactly what that meant, and I should have felt bad for dooming the groper to that fate.

But I don’t.

When he hung up, he approached me, putting himself between me and the door, never letting his eyes stray from mine.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know the name of every person who walks through my doors.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I punched that guy?”

He shook his head, some of his dark hair falling across his forehead.

“Okay. If you’re not kicking me out, then I think I’ll go back downstairs. I could really use—”

I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm.

“What do you need? Tell me.”

I needed a good fuck, but I wasn’t about to tell him that, especially with him being all demanding. Mostly because it pissed me off how much I wanted to obey his orders.

“Tell me. Whatever you want, it’s yours. ”

Instead of telling him, I showed him. I grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket to bring him down to my mouth—since he was so goddamn tall—and devoured him.

Then I let him fold me over his desk and fuck me into a near catatonic state.

Boss narrows his blue eyes and stands, realizing I’m not backing down.

So he can take orders.

Good.

“Go on then,” I say when he doesn’t make a move.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Come over here and undress me,” he says.

Touché.

We’re both fighting for control. I would fight harder if he hadn’t just given me two of the most mind-blowing orgasms I’ve ever had.

I walk to him. I’m taller than the average woman, but that’s nothing compared to this man’s height. He’s at least six foot six if I had to guess.

I unbutton his black dress shirt the rest of the way and place my palms flat on his meaty chest. It’s covered in an elaborate tattoo design: a skull in the middle wrapped in barbed wires with black roses mixed in. There’s a gun on his right pec and a knife on his left.

He closes his eyes as I skim my hands up to remove the shirt.

When it falls to the floor, more tattoos riddling his shoulders and arms are revealed to me.

My fingertips ghost over the design on the left: a snake hidden within greenery, slithering down his arm and its fanged mouth open and aligned with his thumb and index finger.

Boss sighs, but he doesn’t move. He also doesn’t stop me.

On his right arm is a design of butterflies perched on black roses and green vines down to his wrist where there’s a name and words written in script.

In Loving Memory.

Imogen.

She’s someone he lost. A grandmother? Mother? Sister? Wife?

It doesn’t matter. This person meant enough for him to immortalize their name in ink. I bring the inside of his wrist to my mouth and kiss the name.

His body freezes when my lips gently press over the permanent memorial.

Then something flips inside him, and he jerks his arm away.

He drops his pants to the ground and tears open another condom packet, rolling it onto his still hard cock. I yelp when he grabs hold of my dress and literally rips it off my body.

What the actual fuck?

With his hands on my hips, he drags me to the couch and once he sits, I mount him .

Fine.

He wants it rough and dirty?

That’s what he’ll get.

I sink down his length and groan at the feel of him inside me. As if he wasn’t inside me just minutes ago.

I hate how controlling he’s being, but at the same time, my body wants to be dominated. I’m confused and turned on.

Which is why I slap him.

His head jerks to the side, his eyes are wide, clearly not expecting the sting of my palm. I don’t give him time to react to the slap and start moving my hips. He moans, his head falling back against the couch—all is forgiven.

With his thick neck exposed to me, I wrap both of my hands around it. They barely reach halfway around his throat. I’d never be able to successfully incapacitate him.

Maybe that’s why he lets me choke him.

“Come for me, Boss.”

He growls and takes hold of my hips, holding me in place while he thrusts up into me.

“Elias,” he grunts, fucking me hard enough that I’m confident I won’t be able to walk properly for the next few days.

“What?”

“My. Name. Is. Elias.” The words are enunciated with each thrust. “Say it. I want to hear my name on your lips when I make you fall apart. ”

My grip on his throat fails as lust builds within me. I let go, allowing Elias to lean down to catch the peak of my breast with his mouth. He grazes my hard nipple with his teeth before lashing his tongue over it.

He lifts his right hand off my hip and brings it to my mouth.

“Open.”

I do, and he shoves two fingers inside.

“Coat them good, Sage.”

Once they’re soaked, he moves them to my asshole. A fingertip traces down my crack until it presses against my puckered hole.

“Yes,” I whisper, bucking into the touch.

He releases my nipple. “How tight is this little hole? Have you ever taken anyone here before?”

“All the time.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sage.”

Sage. I kind of miss Reine already.

I growl, frustrated and in need of release.

“Just put your finger inside my asshole already, Elias.”

And he does.

Orgasm number three.

A fter railing me in his office for over an hour, Elias is summoned away for club business. Or maybe he left to take care of the man who touched me. Elias insinuated that he was going to kill the dude. Does that mean I’m an accessory to murder? Yeah... I’m trying not to think about that.

He ordered me to get dressed and wait for him.

I can’t wait, though.

I can’t stay.

I’m not ready to get into another relationship, and Elias is giving me relationship energy.

Not to mention that I’ve never had a man fuck me so passionately.

.. so... thoroughly. Staying here and spending the rest of the night with him would spoil me.

I’d never want to leave. I’d ruin it by falling too fast, too hard.

The last time I let myself fall for a man, I married him, and he turned out to be a horrible person who did a lot of shitty things.

I shouldn’t have fucked Elias.

I definitely shouldn’t have let him give me five orgasms.

Elias.

No last name.

Since the man ripped my dress to shreds, I grab his suit jacket from the chair in front of his desk and thank whatever sex god is looking over me because it fits me more like a dress.

A very short dress, but at least my ass is covered .

I find my panties on the ground and slip those on, then use the shredded dress as a belt.

My clutch is in another chair in front of Elias’s desk. I grab it, open it, and pull out a ballpoint pen. I find a piece of paper on his desk, write out a note, kiss the paper, then leave the pen on top.

My heart is racing when I crack the door open and peer outside.

It’s not like I’m a prisoner. I can leave. But the demand in his voice when he told me to stay put tells me he’s going to be pissed when he finds out I’m gone.

I hate to do this to him. It’s my fault for letting him kiss me. Letting him fuck me. Letting him give me hope that there are good men out there.

Is he a good man if he vowed to ‘take care of’ the asshole who groped me?

Eh. Tomato, tomato.

The upstairs office area of Underground Park Slope is like a maze, but I manage to find an exit without running into anyone.

I slip out the back door. While waiting for a taxi to stop, I shift on my feet and glance over my shoulder a few times.

After a painful five minutes, a cab stops, and I blow out a long breath of relief when I get in and it takes off.

Then I cry because I’m an idiot for running away.

Like I always do.

Like a fucking coward.