Chapter 14
14
I nara
He prowls into the room, and once again, I’m struck by his beauty. The strong, square jaw and cheekbones, the skin smooth above the shadow of his five o’clock stubble. Dark eyes under brooding dark brows and the glossy sweep of his raven black hair.
“Detective Ramos. You’re here.”
I’ve all but ordered him to use my title, but it sets my teeth on edge. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
His smile lurks in the corner of his mouth as he advances into the room. “No. You’re nothing if not courageous.” He’s a few feet away and still walking toward me. I stiffen my legs so I don’t take a step back.
He seems to take up most of the space. He’s over six feet tall and built like a linebacker, but it’s more than that. His presence and the power I sensed from the beginning when I was blindfolded and eager to succumb to someone competent enough to take control.
All the scenes I arranged and participated in, and he was who I was looking for. Who I dreamed about. Safety. Homecoming.
It was all a lie.
“You told me you had answers for me. So talk.” My tough-guy act sounds like what it is—an act. Underneath is a desperate submissive, ready to melt and give over all her control. I work hard to hide her, but Rex Roy stripped away my armor and saw her. He might be the only one who has.
The way he looks at me now, I know he still sees her. If he were my Dom, he’d spend time soothing me until I let him peel back the layers and erase the walls so my true self could emerge.
I’m geared up to fight him, but really, I have to fight myself.
“I did promise you answers. But you can’t think it would be that easy.” He’s almost upon me when he changes directions and heads to the far corner. “Drink?” He opens a cabinet and takes down a glass and a bottle of liquor.
I hate how he’s acting like this is a pleasant social call. More than that, I hate how the distance between us allows me to breathe easier.
He returns, holding a cut glass tumbler filled with amber liquid.
“I thought there was no eating or drinking in these rooms. But I guess if you’re a billionaire, you can just break the rules?”
“Always. It’s the main perk.” He tilts the glass toward me. “Drink?”
I turn my head and mutter, “Coming here was a mistake.”
“By all means, go. But if you want answers, I’m prepared to give them to you.”
“Really? Just like that?”
A dark fire blazes in his eyes. “Not quite. I’m offering an exchange. For every orgasm you give me, I’ll answer a question.”
I choke on my own breath. “You’re joking.”
“I assure you, I am not. You want answers. I want your orgasms. This way, we both get everything we want.”
I don’t know what the fuck to say, so I blurt, “Why?”
He tilts his head in silent question.
“Why would you want this?”
He looks nonplussed, as if no one usually questions his motives. And why would they? He’s rich. What he wants, he gets. “Because I want to scene with you.”
My flesh should be crawling. Instead, heat floods through me. “You don’t need to go through all this to get a scene. You could have anyone.”
“I don’t want anyone but you.”
My stomach swoops like it’s untethered to my body. I stare until I realize I’ve fallen into his dark eyes.
Evil. Wicked. Murderer. I need to remember to hate him. “You could just force me.”
His thick brows rise. “Do you want me to?”
I ignore that, along with my quickening breath. “You’ve got almost a foot of height and a hundred pounds on me.”
“Quite a bit more than that, I’d say.” He looks me up and down. “But when it comes to you, little bird, I need every advantage.”
I’ve been hunching my shoulders, burrowing into my coat, but I make myself straighten. “I’m not your adversary.”
“No? Haven’t you been threatening to bring me down in your role as the long arm of the law?”
“That’s justice.”
“Is it? You have your brand of justice. I have mine.”
“Is that why you dumped a dead body on my doorstep?”
A shadow darkens his expression. His expression grows colder, and he looms over me. Suddenly, I’m staring down a warrior.
But when he cups my cheek, his touch is gentle. “He hurt you.” His thumb brushes my bruised cheek. “No one touches you and lives.”
I’m burning up in my winter coat. His touch is so soft and perfect.
I step back, reaching for my professionalism and my anger to hide the way his touch makes me shake. “You left the body on my front stoop. Like a welcome mat.”
Rex just looks at me. The heat in his eyes melts me and turns my core to liquid. I’ve never had anyone look at me like he does. I’ve never had anyone go to such lengths to protect me.
But it doesn’t matter. I can’t succumb to this. To him.
“I’m now a top suspect in the investigation. They should be looking for you. Instead, I have to convince them I didn’t go hunting down a random guy after he bumped into me.”
“He did more than bump into you. He meant to do you violence. And his friend called you a bitch.”
How does he know all this?
“As for the fact that you’re a suspect, that’s easily remedied.”
“What does that mean?”
He just takes a sip of his drink.
Would he come out and confess? I don’t ask because I know the answer. He’ll never confess to these crimes. Not to anyone but me.
Why?
“And Gregory Martin? Why did he have to die?”
“There were many reasons Martin deserved death. But he also served the same purpose as Joseph Daniels.”
“What’s that?”
He leans in. “It got your attention.”
My heartbeat booms like a bomb exploding in my chest. “If you wanted to get my attention, there are better ways.” I’m about to say send flowers but stop. The sprig of jasmine in my purse. The vase in my townhouse. That was him.
He’s watching me patiently. He knows I’m putting the pieces together. My face is heated under his scrutiny. And yet, all I want to do is step closer to him.
Gods, I’m in so deep. “Have you ever heard of subtlety?”
“I have. But I refuse to entertain it. Not when your safety is at stake. I sent a message to the thugs of this city. Stay away from what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours.”
He just smiles.
“I shouldn’t even be here.” I step back, and he catches my wrist.
“There’s nothing to fear, little bird.” I just know my pulse is wild under his palm. I stare up at him, panting like I’ve been running.
He strokes my skin, and I close my eyes.
“It’ll be so easy. Just give into me.”
One simple touch and he’s found a crack in my barrier. Maybe that’s why my voice is slight and desperate when I whisper, “I can’t.”
“You can, little bird.” His voice deepens. “I’ll help you.”
“No.” I wrench away from him and am halfway to the door before I realize he hasn’t moved.
He’s let me go.
“Then you’ll have to hunt me the old-fashioned way.” He’s back to looking like a bored billionaire, swirling the ice in his drink. “But it doesn’t have to be so hard. Imagine what you could do with a little bit more information. A few leads pointing you in the right direction.”
He’s right. As a detective, I solve crimes from the barest details. Each case is a fractured puzzle that’s missing most of its pieces, with only my instincts to fill in the gaps.
A few straight answers and I could have him in cuffs. . .
He sees me tempted, weighing the cost. There’s triumph in his voice as he says, “Just give yourself to me for a little while, and I’ll tell you whatever you wish to know.”
The floor under my feet shifts, and my stubbornness swirls away. I am trapped here, not by him, but by my own dedication to my crusade.
“No. I’m not playing a game.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“I know it is. You’re rich. You have nothing better to do than enact your sick fantasies on whatever victim you choose.”
“You see yourself as my victim?”
“You’ve been stalking me.” I rack my brain, trying to figure out all the ways he might have inserted himself into my life. “You sent me a dress, had me followed.” The last one is a guess, but he doesn’t refute it. “You knew my name.”
“I knew everything about you before you stepped foot in the club. Not just you, I thoroughly vet everyone who comes close to me. In my position, I have to.”
“You researched me.” Suddenly, there’s not enough air in the room. I rub my chest and throat.
His gaze follows my movements like a predator drinking in every flinch, every gesture. I’m only half a foot away from him. My dress is too tight. I want to claw it off.
If he did his research and knows everything, that means he knows about my past. The sordid details written in the papers. The headlines that screamed SERIAL KILLER BUTCHERS FAMILY, TERRORIZES SMALL TOWN, POLICE STUMPED.
He knows. I’m swaying, too hot. I can’t draw breath.
“Inara?”
The room tilts. The heat rolls through me, blooming in my head. I’m dizzy with it.
My legs give way, and I slump.
“Inara!” There’s a crash, the tinkle of broken glass. “Easy, little bird.” Strong arms around me, lifting me easily. Gravity no longer applies. There’s only Rex Roy anchoring me. My world’s shifted so he’s at the center of it.
I’m in his arms, in his lap. Cool air wafts over me, along with his delicious cologne.
I swim back to reality and open my eyes. He’s opened my coat and is holding me, concern etched on his beautiful face.
“Too hot,” I mumble.
He tips me forward so he can strip my coat off. The second he leans back, I slump against his chest.
“Please. Drink.” Something smooth against my lips. A water bottle. I gulp down the cool liquid. I’m letting him take care of me, again.
I close my eyes and soak it in.
He tilts me upright and rubs my back. With his other hand, he strokes my forehead, tucking tendrils of hair behind my ear. “Better?”
I nod. I want to stay here, in the darkness, with my eyes closed, and pretend I only know him as my mystery dom. No more, no less.
When I open my eyes, his face is inches away, his forehead creased with concern. “Who are you?” I whisper.
“You know who I am. More than anyone else, I imagine.” His hand is gentle, cupping the back of my neck. “You know the veneer I present to the world. And you know the things I do when the world is asleep.”
“Why did you kill him?”
“Ah, ah.” He leans back. “Not until you give me what’s mine.”
“My orgasms aren’t yours.”
He just smiles. His hand returns to my back and finds the zipper of my dress. He holds my gaze as he draws his hand down, unzipping me. He moves slowly enough that I could stop him or pull away, but I don’t.
The sleeves of the dress slide off my shoulders. I’m not wearing a bra, and when he notices, his eyes light up. Carefully, as if a sudden movement would frighten me away, he runs the back of his knuckles over my collarbone. Goosebumps rise all over me. He follows their path along my arms, drawing the dress sleeves down until my upper torso is bare. Then he returns to my chest, spreading his hand over my collarbone, grounding me.
“Breathe,” he orders. I stare at the darkness in his eyes, the pupils swallowing up the irises until all that’s left is the faintest brown corona.
I’ve never been so close to another person before. I want to surge upward and press my face against his, rub my cheek against his. Submerge myself in his woodsy, whiskey scent. I’m shaking with need.
How is it the person I most want to be close to is a serial killer?
“Shh, I’m here,” he says. “I’m going to take care of you.” Even his voice invites me to fall in. To trust.
I close my eyes and make myself imagine the crime scene in front of my apartment. The dead body curled up without any blood around him because he had been transported but with plenty of stab wounds in his chest. “You killed him.”
“He touched you, little bird. No one touches what’s mine.”
“So you think I’m yours.”
“Aren’t you?” His hair brushes my cheek. His lips are right at my ear. If I turned my head, I could find his lips with mine. “Will you let yourself go, let yourself be mine? Just for tonight?”
It’s too late. I can’t walk away.
I let my head fall forward and bob the tiniest nod.
His sudden exhale tells me my surrender wasn’t a totally foregone conclusion. There’s a slight tremor in his body. He needs me as much as I need him.
“Good girl.” He puts pressure on my chest, easing me back into the crook of his strong arm. I’m sitting sideways across his lap, with my dress half opened, exposing me to him. He skates his hand down my front, easing over my bare breasts and settling on my belly. My nipples pucker, begging to be touched. Almost as soon as he sees them, he darts his head down to swirl his tongue around one, then the other. My head falls back. I feel each sensation in my core. My hips jerk, calling his attention lower.
He presses his palm on my lower belly. “Easy. I’ve got you.” He bends his head again to murmur against my breast. “I’m going to give you everything you need.”
He tips me backward, laying me out. He lifts me, whipping the dress away and lowering me back down. His big body is a perfect frame, and I’m the pliant plaything he can move any way he wants.
With one arm braced behind my back and his free hand on my belly, he licks and sucks at my breasts. Each strong pull of his mouth sends a surge of need between my legs. I rock my hips, trying to relieve the building pressure. His hand on my abs skates lower until he can grind his palm into the top of my sex.
Now he’s over me, dark hair falling into his eyes. He probes my pussy, spreading my lower lips open. He pauses, staring at the flower of my sex he’s forced open. I want to squirm, but he’s holding me tight.
And then, he dips his head and licks me. I shout, arching upward. He shifts his weight so I’m pinned under him, my thighs splayed on either side of his broad shoulders, my sex hidden by his bowed head.
His left hand squeezes my breast while his right strokes deep into the grooves around my entrance, stimulating and splaying it so his tongue can find my clit. He teases me with the pointed tip, finding every itchy, needy spot. I stop trying to curl into a ball and dig my heels into the couch and his side, pushing upward so he can feast.
He takes his time, teasing the aroused flesh until my orgasm is one heartbeat away but backing off to let the sensations subside. He does it again and again until I’m a writhing mess under him. I go to grab his head, and he captures my wrists with laughable ease, shackling them in his strong grip.
The contradiction of his strength and the gentle tip of his tongue makes lights flash behind my eyes. He starts to raise his head, and I surge upwards, my body begging for him.
“Please.” I shudder. “Please.”
“As you wish.” And he thrusts his fingers inside me.
Lightning slices through me. My muscles clamp on his fingers as if they could draw them in deeper. He moves them slightly, stimulating me. His gaze is intent on my face, noting every twitch, every gasp. I turn my head. The pulses slow and die away, and finally, I can breathe again.
“That’s one,” he says and licks his fingers. Tasting me. My sex clenches at the sight.
He looks so elegant in his dark suit. He’s still fully clothed, not a cuff link out of place, and I’m naked.
I push up, propping myself on my elbows in an attempt to get a hold of myself. Get away.
“No.” He moves faster than I can follow and pins my wrists over my head. “We’re not done.” I thrash, testing his limits, and his grip tightens. “I’m going to tie you down. Test every implement. I know you love the vibrator, but what about nipple clamps?”
I whimper.
“Do you want that?” His voice holds dark promise. “Do you need it? Think of the questions you can ask.”
Right. The questions. I’d forgotten about my whole reason for being here.
“Why are you doing this?”
“This?” He runs his free hand down my well-plundered body. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re absolutely exquisite.”
“You sent the dress. You’ve been watching me.” My head swims. “How long? And why me?”
“I can give you answers. But you’ll owe me more orgasms.”
I press my lips together.
“I will say this. I enjoy hunting. And you are the perfect prey.”
“This is sick.”
“Is it?” His hand roams over my thighs, slapping lightly. I jolt, but he’s holding me fast. He cups my sex with his hand, and we both can feel it—how wet I am. “Or is it just what you need?”
I wrench away. I’m back to my senses, fighting him. He lets me up but catches me lazily and pulls me across the room. I kick and claw him, but he cuffs one hand and then the other to the cross.
“Does it make you feel better? Fighting me?”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“Oh, I will.” He grips my sex, this time squeezing my labia until I cry out. “But not tonight. Not until you beg me for it.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Do you want to bet?” He finds the spots he tormented before. The ones I’ve savored. The spot on my hip, the bruises at the crook of my elbows. He digs his thumbs in, and I writhe. “I know you. I know what you need.”
The pain blooms through me, washing me clean.
“There she is. There’s my girl.” He sets his knee between my legs. The ridge of his thigh brushes my bare sex. “Take what you need.”
This time, he does nothing to make me come. It’s all me. I grind down on his leg, angling my hips any way I need, chasing pleasure. Sweat rolls down my bare back, making me slide against the leather. I grab the cuff chains and strain, leaning back so I can slide on his pant leg. The slick sound it makes has me cringing, but the scent of him surrounds me, washing all shame away. There’s only him and me and need.
And the way he’s staring at me like he’s never seen anything so exquisite, so divine. “You’re beautiful.”
I make a desperate sound.
“Do you need more? Do you need me?”
I nod.
He plumps my breasts, pinching my nipples. And then, he twists them as if he’d tear them from my body. Pain slices through me, and my orgasm surges in my belly.
He steps forward, trapping me between his body and the cross. He’s everywhere, the wool of his slacks scratching my inner thighs, his crisp white shirt sticking to my skin, his cheek brushing the top of my head. Surrounding me, keeping me safe as pleasure claws at me.
At some point, he releases my nipples to hold me. The sting increases as the blood rushes in.
My sex throbs against his leg. I came, but it wasn’t enough.
“I need it,” I sob.
“I know, little bird. And I’m here. I’m going to give you everything.”
* * *
Him
She’s incredible, cuffed to the cross, her eyes glazed, pupils blown. Her golden skin glows in the low light.
I step back and remove my tux jacket. I didn’t take the time to strip before. The difference in power—her bared to my gaze, me fully clothed—is too potent a weapon not to wield in a scene.
But now I need to feel her against me.
She’s raised her head, more alert by the time I’ve removed my shirt, and stares at my bare torso.
I don’t think of myself as vain—nature, genes, and breeding gave me the height and proportions that give me an advantage as a hunter. I train like a warrior, in and outside of a gym. My preferred sport requires it. It doesn’t matter that society finds me attractive, except when I can use their interest against them to draw them in.
Maybe that’s why her perusal pleases me. She’s the one I’ve chosen to claim.
“So many scars,” she says, and that gives me pause. I can’t think of another partner who’s noticed the evidence of the battles I’ve fought and won. Or maybe I don’t really allow anyone else to see me.
But she sees me. She always has. Even with the blindfold on. Her sketches attest to that.
I crave her insight, even as I want to punish her for pointing out evidence of my vulnerability.
I head to the wall of implements and select a few things. Clamps for her nipples, a curved vibrator for her pussy. And a small whip.
She shivers when I ready her for the clamps and attach them and moans when I slide the vibrator home. I secure the vibrator with straps around her thighs so it will stay put and turn it on so it’ll pulse with increasing intensity before switching off for a few seconds. Her abs clench as it turns on, and she hums low in her throat.
I stand back and wait for the vibrator to fall silent. I flick the whip at the marks I gave her in our last scene. She turns her head and tries to tuck it into her arm, but she can’t hide her responses. Her sleek muscles quiver and strain.
I slash at her legs, whipping from knee to hip. Her head bows so her damp hair hangs down.
“Look at me,” I order.
She does, baring her teeth at me. Magnificent.
I snap the whip at her belly. She hisses but keeps her defiant pose. I make the whip bite at her breasts, reddening the tops before striking at the left nipple clamp.
She stiffens, throwing her head back to let out an anguished cry. I whip the right clamp to keep things even and step in close. I lean in to find her gaze and push the vibrator deep, turning it up to full power. She shudders against me, her mouth open as she pants.
I can’t help myself. I claim her lips.
Our first kiss while she’s in the grip of an orgasm. And it’s more than I could’ve imagined. More than I can take.
I undo the cuffs and let her collapse against me. My dick strains in my slacks. But I carry her to the couch and lay her gently down.
“No more,” she pants.
“Very well.” I grab the bottle of water. She reaches for it, and I shake my head, setting it against her lips so she can drink. If I had my way, I’d keep her bound and at my mercy, and every drop of liquid or bite of food she consumed would be by my hand. “It’s my turn. Is it true you’ve never been with the same top twice?”
“That’s true.”
“That’s not always safe.”
She blinks at me. “I kept the scenes simple. Just impact play. No exchange of bodily fluids. No. . . touch.”
“No getting too close. I wonder, why do you avoid touch?”
“I can’t stand it.”
I tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Is that because you don’t like it? Or because you like it too much?”
Her brain is catching up, catching on. “That’s too many questions.”
“I don’t need the answer.” How fascinating she is. Every layer I peel away uncovers so many more. She’s a mystery I plan to fall into.
Her brow is furrowed. She’s half out of subspace, and I shouldn’t take advantage, but she’s exactly where I want her.
If that makes me evil, so be it.
Her lips part, but she hesitates.
“You have a question for me.”
“Why. . .”
I wait for her to ask the question she’s braved a scene to ask. Why did you kill them?
But instead, she says, “Why did you choose me?” and steals my breath.
I smooth a hand down the dark waterfall of her hair and squeeze a few silky strands in my fist. Her skin bears my marks, but it’s not enough. I want to brand her so everyone—including her—knows she’s mine.
“I saw you.” I have to be careful how much I let her know. If I spill the entire truth all at once, as soon as she’s able, she’ll run from me. “And I wanted you. But the more I watched you, the more I knew you needed me. Not just a top. As a protector. Someone to take away your choices. Someone who could breach your walls and take care of you.”
“It was you. You broke into my home.”
“I had to see you. Know you were safe.” I’ve treasured those stolen moments standing over her bed. They were all I had until I could have this. My little bird perched on my lap.
“Did you watch me sleep?”
“Yes. I will always watch over you.”
Her eyes fall closed. Her expression is pained.
“What do you want, Inara? Tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.”
When her answer comes, it’s whispered on the barest breath. “I want to be warm and safe again. I want to be okay.”
“I want to make you okay. Will you let me?”
She shudders but nods. And once again, I am undone.
* * *
Inara
In my dream, I’m being carried. I’m small and scrawny, all limbs. My father jokes he can still lift me with one hand.
Then I come awake and remember my father is gone. But I’m still being held by someone strong. Someone who can keep the world, the monsters, and the nightmares at bay.
Cool air drifts over my face.
My body is hot and sore, but it feels so good. I snuggle deeper into arms that I instinctively know belong to a man, letting my forehead fall against his neck. His muscles flex.
“Almost there, little bird.”
Oh. It’s him. The monster and the hunter rolled into one.
He lowers me to a soft surface. My head sinks into a pillow.
He’s looming over me, the shadow from my visions and from my dreams.
“What are you thinking?” His thumb brushes my lip.
“I hate you. I was safe with you. And you took it away.”
“You are safe with me. You will always be safe.” His voice reverberates through my bones. I want to believe him. That what he’s saying is a law of the universe and something I can trust. Reliable as gravity.
No. I have to resist this. I gather every bit of strength. “You’re a killer.”
“I kill to protect.” His hand cups my cheek.
I can barely move, but I turn my head away. “I’m going to find proof.” My heart twists, and it hurts more than a flogger or nipple clamps could ever hurt me, sparking tears in my eyes. “I’m going to catch you.”
“I have no doubt.” He doesn’t sound threatened or resigned. He sounds pleased and almost proud. “You can do anything.” Finally, I feel the weight of a blanket being drawn over me. “But tonight, just sleep.”