Black Listed Page 6

  The word “Master” tasted as good on her tongue as his cock would.

  Missing the collar she used to wear in honor of his ownership of her, she rubbed her neck as she kneeled on the smooth surface of the shower.

  “Yes, my girl. This counts.” He grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her forward. “Now stop talking and fill your mouth with me.”

  She swallowed, preparing for his invasion. “Yes, Master.” Opening her mouth as wide as it would go, she allowed him past her lips and took him inside. Sawyer wasn’t gentle with her, giving her no time to acclimate before he began fucking her mouth, sliding his cock across her tongue until it bumped to the entrance of her throat before retreating.

  She was helpless against the onslaught of his use of her mouth as his tool for getting himself off. In that moment, she truly belonged to him.

  “Fuck,” he swore, throwing his head back, the muscles of his neck protruding from his tension. His hands tightened on her head as he pushed her mouth farther onto his cock. “Swallow. Take me into your throat.”

  Breathing through her nose, she swallowed continuously until almost all of Sawyer’s cock disappeared into her mouth. Her tears mingled with the water of the shower, soaking her face.

  The more he made her feel as though she existed solely to satisfy his lusts, and the rougher his treatment of her, the more aroused she got. Her clit swelled and pulsed, demanding attention. All she had to do was touch it, and she’d go off like a lit firecracker.

  But she didn’t want to climax. She wanted to remain on this decadent pinnacle for a while longer.

  A colorful variety of expletives continued to fall from Sawyer’s lips as he increased his pace, fucking her mouth with reckless abandon. Adding vibration to increase his pleasure, she hummed.

  He dropped his head forward and looked down at her, his fingers wrapping lightly around her throat, no doubt to feel his cock inside of it. Groaning, his pace increased, and his thrusts went deeper from his excitement.

  She sensed the wild beast inside of him beginning to unleash, that part of him she both loved and feared at the same time. He’d never harm her.

  But oh, how he loved to hurt her.

  She used her eyes to give him permission. Not that he needed it.

  He hesitated, the good man in him warring with the bad, bad boy who wanted to show her he could do anything to her.

  His groans turned to a roar as he accepted what they both wanted.

  He slapped her cheek. Not too forcefully, but just enough so she could feel the sting.

  Her pussy spasmed from the pain, but she wouldn’t give in that easily. He had to work harder.

  More, she begged silently.

  He didn’t wait, slapping her other cheek, the sound of it echoing in the shower. Then another. And another. He alternated sides until the light tears she’d shed from him being inside her throat fell heavier. She had no doubt her mascara from earlier ran down her skin. Each tear was a release of bottled emotion that brought her closer and closer to complete surrender.

  His hands tightened in her hair, her pain and her submission always an aphrodisiac for him. “You’re going to drink your Master’s come and not spill a drop of it, aren’t you? Such a greedy girl.”

  He wiped under her eyes and showed her the black stain of her makeup on his fingers. Then, as his legs shook and his eyes widened, he pinched her nostrils with those fingers, sealing off her only present method for breathing.

  Deep, wicked exhilaration coursed through her veins, heating her body. The beat of her heart thudded in her ears, her vision darkening along the edges and brightening with bursting stars within the center from the lack of oxygen.

  Her clit pulsed in time with her heart. She clenched her pussy’s muscles. Once, twice. And then she was coming, hot lava flowing outward from her core, her juices spilling with every hard spasm.

  “Yes,” her Master cried as he removed his fingers from her nostrils and followed her with his own release, shot after shot of his come gliding down her throat.

  She swallowed continuously until there was nothing left to swallow, and his cock slipped from her mouth.

  Bowing her head, she gloried in the first real taste of submission she’d had in over four years. When she’d left Sawyer, she’d also left her true nature behind, and as a symbol, she’d placed her wedding rings and platinum chain collar on his pillow. He hadn’t just lost his wife when she’d run.

  He’d lost his slave.

  And she’d lost herself.

  But now, buzzing on the high from her orgasm and her submission, she’d stolen back a piece of identity. She’d cherish and cling to it, until once more, fate and circumstance ripped it away from her.

  Sawyer cradled her chin in his hand, caressing her cheek with his knuckles. “That was fucking amazing. I know you need your sleep, but I need to see you come.”

  She nuzzled his palm. “I just did, Master.”

  “Yes, but I was too far gone to appreciate it, so you’ll have to do it one more time for me.” Grabbing her under the arms, he lifted her onto her feet and nudged her forward until she was almost flush against the wall. “Hold onto the wall for support.” He raised her left leg and rested it on the seat in the corner, spreading her open to him.

  Without warning, he thrust his fingers inside her and twisted before retreating and repeating the process. “That’s two. Since I just stretched you with my cock and you’re nice and slippery from your orgasm, let’s see how many fingers of mine you can take.”

  A whimper of need tore from her throat as he added the extra finger. The delicious anticipation for more nearly pushed her into another climax, but she breathed deep, holding it off. In her position, she was tighter than when he had her lie on her back with her legs spread wide. There was no way he’d fit another one inside her.

  He stayed away from her clit, but as proven earlier, she didn’t require clitoral stimulation to climax. When Sawyer dominated her, it brought her to a mental and emotional state in which she and her body lived to serve him.

  In the months they’d been together, he’d taught her to come on demand. She couldn’t do it anymore—it was like losing any other skill without practice—but she could come close.

  “Come on, girl. Take one more for me.” An additional finger poked at her entrance as the other three rubbed the walls inside.

  She trembled from the pressure of it stretching her. “No, Master. There’s no room.”

  Giving her the pain she required to become mindless, he smacked her ass hard then yanked on her hair. “Do you get to say no to your Master? There’s only one way of stopping me. Are you going to use it?”

  No, she wanted him to decide when she’d had enough.

  She shook her head, and he slid his finger all the way inside. He gave her only a few moments to acclimate to the girth of his digits before he began wiggling the tips of his fingers over that perfect spot that made her eyes practically roll back in her head.

  All he’d have to do at this point was give her a little pain to push her over the cliff. A bite on her shoulder. A pinch of her nipple. A squeeze of her windpipe. He knew the greatest torture of all was to keep her at the cliff’s edge as long as possible without letting her drop.

  The pleasure grew every second, so intense it bordered on painful. “Please, Master,” she begged. “Help me.”

  “That’s right, girl. All you had to do was ask.” He grasped her face and turned it toward him. His jaw was rigid, and his eyes full of fire. “I want to see your face when I give you this gift. I want to hear my name on your lips. Stay like this.”

  His hand left her face, and in the next moment, he pushed his finger into her ass, the stretch and burn of it careening her into climax.

  “Sawyer!” She shouted his name in thanks, even while she cursed him for making her remember how good it was between them.

  It wasn’t just her pussy that squeezed in blissful waves of climax. Every part of her, inside and out, celebrated
the release.

  Even her heart.

  She stayed in position for several minutes, unable to find the energy to take herself to bed. Closing her eyes, she listened as Sawyer uncapped bottles of soap, cleaning himself and then her before shutting off the water.

  He wrapped a warm fluffy towel around her torso and scooped her up into his arms. She tried to tell him she could walk, but she was too tired to speak.

  He lowered her gently onto the crisp cool sheets of the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. As she began to drift off, she felt his weight depress the mattress and his lips brush her cheek.

  “See?” he said softly from above her. “All you have to do is ask for help. Trust me.”

  Even half asleep she realized he wasn’t talking about orgasms anymore.

  He wanted answers. Why couldn’t he be satisfied with what she had to give him?

  A week. Nothing more.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper. “I can’t.”

  She never would.

  Not when asking him for help would be a death sentence.

  Chapter Seven

  THE LIGHTING WAS shit for such a delicate job, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Sitting in the back of his beat-up truck with the parts he’d purchased from the Home Depot store laid out in front of him, he fisted the wires and got to work.

  Amazing what you could find on the Internet these days.

  He rubbed his chest as a stab of regret hit him behind his sternum. If only she hadn’t left him, he wouldn’t have to go to such lengths. But she’d forced his hand.

  She hadn’t changed. Hadn’t learned her lesson yet.

  The woman was unyielding.

  Unbreakable.

  Why hadn’t she fled?

  At least the desecration of her space should have raised serious doubts about Sawyer Hayes. But rather than slam the door in the man’s face, she had run into his arms.

  Watching their little scene from a distance in his truck, he’d used his binoculars to see the way her eyes had softened at her old lover.

  It was obvious that she still loved him.

  And as long as she loved Hayes, she wouldn’t be his.

  He lowered the wires to rub his temples as the pounding in his head increased. Every time he thought about her, the pain inside him grew, and he became more and more confused. Why was she cheating on him with another man when he’d given her everything?

  She was a greedy whore, and whores had to die.

  He thought he’d already killed her. But here she was, alive and well, living it up as he struggled every day with his memories, her last words still ringing in his ears.

  “Love? I never loved you. I hate you.”

  It didn’t make sense. Once Sawyer had discovered her whereabouts, he had every reason to call the police. Yet instead, he had driven her to his hotel and allowed her to stay with him in his suite.

  The fucking penthouse suite.

  With no way to spy on her in there, he’d driven back to her condo and sat outside, holding her shirt up to his nose to take her scent into his lungs.

  Barely an hour had passed before a cleaning crew had arrived. He watched as they came in and out of her condo, carrying bags of damaged clothes and books to the Dumpster.

  Just as he’d expected, she hadn’t called the cops about the break-in. But as hard as he tried, he still couldn’t understand why Hayes hadn’t. He had no reason to protect her.

  What was his end game?

  How easily she had allowed that man back into her life, a man she knew nothing about. She’d thought she was the liar in their relationship, but she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

  So many secrets.

  Lights flashed behind his eyes, the pain intensifying. He banged his skull against the wall of his truck, trying to destroy the rampant voices in his head that wouldn’t stop their chattering. He smashed it until a river of blood flowed down his face.

  The blazing agony stopped.

  The voices quieted to a dull murmur.

  He resumed his work, twisting the wires according to the instructions.

  He would make her love him again.

  He had to.

  And if she didn’t, this time he’d make sure she’d never leave him again.

  Even if it meant they both had to die.

  Chapter Eight

  LISA WOKE UP with a start, the heaviness of the blanket and the softness of the pillow foreign. She blinked a few times and rolled over, checking the clock on the nightstand as she remembered she was in Sawyer’s suite.

  Judging by the time, she’d probably gotten about four hours of sleep—enough to run to her office and function. She stretched, wonderfully sore in places she’d repressed since she’d become a born-again virgin.

  Seriously, how could she have gone so long without it?

  She hadn’t lied about needing to work. There were several appointments on her calendar she’d need to reschedule and at least five press releases that needed to be written for the week. Once she finished those tasks, she’d free up some more time for Sawyer. She couldn’t imagine why he wanted her available twenty-four hours a day, but she also couldn’t imagine anywhere she’d rather be than with him.

  It was dangerous.

  Thrilling.

  Wrong.

  Wrong had never felt so right.

  Sitting up, she smiled, noticing Sawyer had left her a fresh pair of jeans, panties, and blouse on the edge of the bed. He’d probably already ordered her an entire wardrobe.

  She twirled the La Perla underwear on her pinkie. Money might not buy happiness, but apparently it did manage to buy designer clothes on a Sunday before the mall even opened.

  Getting dressed, she thought about all the ways she could thank him for his generosity. Of course, none of them would result in her getting any work done this afternoon. She’d have to plan something for that evening.

  Maybe she could pick up a costume from the sex shop and play the clumsy maid to his stern hotel guest. She’d flash him as she bent to pick something up, and then oops—she’d knock a bottle onto the floor, so he’d have to punish her.

  He’d take her over his knee and spank her hard on her bottom until she learned her lesson. Until her skin was red and burning from his punishment. And then she’d retrieve the item she’d dropped earlier—a bottle of lube—and offer to let him fuck her ass. Or her tits. He loved to slide his cock between them and come all over her face.

  Now soaking between her thighs from the fantasy, she buttoned up her blouse and bounced out of the room, eager to tell Sawyer of her plans.

  Typing on his laptop, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, he sat behind the desk, so deep in concentration he didn’t seem to notice her presence. She took the opportunity to watch him in his element.

  Her husband was a techie, computers and gadgets like food and water to him. When they’d been together, he’d told her stories about his friends from the Army, men like him who could hack into anything.

  In fact, Sawyer and three of his friends had managed to use their skills to prove Logan and Rachel’s innocence in the murder of a local mobster. That must have been when Sawyer saw her photo and figured out where to find her.

  He’d never said the words out loud, but she’d gotten the sense that he’d resented having to take over as the CEO of his family’s multi-billion-dollar corporation when his parents died. Not that he’d ever admit it. That role was his job. A responsibility. While computers were his passion. He’d rather be lost in cyberspace than at a board meeting. But never once had he complained in all the time they’d spent together.

  She snuck up behind him and slid her arms down his chest, burying her nose into the side of his neck. “What are you working on?”

  He slammed his laptop shut with a force that startled her. “You’re up.” He pushed away from the desk and stood, leaving her feeling a bit awkward, since he didn’t seem as though he was pleased to see her.

  What
had changed between the shower and now?

  She clasped her hands together to keep from touching him. “I have too much to do to stay in bed.”

  Although he faced her, he kept his gaze trained on the wall behind her. “It’s Sunday. No one is waiting for you at the office.”

  Her stomach churned at Sawyer’s icy demeanor. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Had he changed his mind about their seven nights?

  “True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have tasks that I need to complete. Unless you’re easing up on your orders for me to take the week off?” She gave him the opening to let her off the hook, hoping he wouldn’t take it.

  “That may have been presumptuous of me. I can’t take all of your time. If you need to work, then work.” He shrugged, his tone flat and lifeless. “Just leave the nights open for me.”

  Something was wrong. He hadn’t broken their agreement, but he also didn’t seem eager for it. What happened to wanting to spend the days as well as the nights with her? Had he not enjoyed their scene in the shower?

  She took a step closer to him. “What were you doing on the computer that you didn’t want me to see?”

  He still wouldn’t look at her. “Work. Just work.”

  And he’d given her a hard time about needing to go into her office? “Hmm. Seems like I’m not the only one who works on Sundays.” She took another step toward him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “How is Hayes Industries doing?”

  “Why?” His gaze shot to her face, the anger in his expression almost palpable. “Planning on taking more of my money?”

  Screw him. She snatched her hand away as if he’d burned her and headed for the door. “Forget it. I’m leaving.”

  She didn’t need this. He was the one who wanted her here, and now that she was, he was treating her as if she was dirt beneath his shoe.

  Before she got to the front door, he caught her by the arm. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  She twirled around. “I’ve given you no reason to trust me. But I thought after this morning . . . ” She’d thought their connection was real. “If we’re going to spend the next week together, I at least deserve your respect.” She held her head high and squared her shoulders. “I may have been a thief and a liar, but I’ve spent the last few years atoning for my crimes and changing the direction of my life. I don’t have much, and I live modestly. But I’ve earned everything I have, and I won’t allow you or anyone else to shame me. The fact is I’m not the same woman you knew.”